Name : A very normal day

Author : Rain

Disclaimer : Shaman King belongs to Hiroyuki Takei.

Note :

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUGIA-CHAN! … It's very late, I know, and the second gift is still stuck somewhere in the depths of gaiaonline. Oh, well. I had some fun writing that piece! It just… Slipped through my fingers. Just like that. Happy Rain! %) Contrary to Heavy Rain, of course, Happy Rain is way less gore and rain-related murders filled.

Okay, bad joke is bad. Let me die in a hole somewhere.

You'll also find… Well. Many refs to the diverse canons, and maybe some to our rps as well, can't remember precisely… Oh, and my usual Jeanne/Marco/Rackist issues, of course.

Pairing : … Well, that's one obvious, isn't it ? MarcoXMeene.

Marco put on his special earplugs – decorated with car stickers – and secured them mechanically. He then took his handgun from his holster, walked to the box and emptied his mind. The low buzz from the machinery of the ship slowly vanished, along with all thoughts of his awaiting day, filled with anxiety and stress-inducing activities. Soon enough, he was ready for his practice session, and raised his arm to aim at the shifting targets.

Each of the X-Laws – except, of course, Jeanne-sama – came into that room daily, but it certainly was not for entertainment purposes. Located behind the machinery room and beneath the large deck that housed Meene's training pool, it was a cramped, dark vault – all the contrary of the next room, which housed the different Archangels when they weren't attributed. Until a few hours ago, it was empty… But not anymore. Zeruel was held there now, mourning his Shaman lost to Hao's hounds. Another reason the bastard deserved to be taken down. Jake had been a very nice and very strong member of their team…

No. Not thinking about fallen companions. Back to the training room. (Running through the basic pieces of the knowledge he had about his own "home" helped him focus – or at least he liked to think it so, despite hitting way less targets when he wasn't only thinking about finding them. ) According to a very tight, seemingly complicated schedule, each X-Law came into that room for an hour of shooting practice, from 9:00 to 12:00 am, by groups of two (as there were two shooting boxes. At noon, the place was emptied as everyone gathered for their meal… and then came Meene, the new recruit, from 3:00 to 6:00 pm. She had the room for far longer than all the others, and was never accompanied when she came there – mostly because the possible suitors feared she might hit something (or someone) else than the actual targets. It had happened in the past three weeks – twice – and now no one took the risk anymore, despite her… ahem, relevant visual assets.

Marco was the only other X-Law to have the room for himself, and for as long as he so desired, though the reason behind that was completely different. He usually came at 6:00 am, and shot dummies for as long as he could keep his arm raised, and no one ever bothered him. He was more than fine with that. Actually, if anyone entered the training room while he was in it… He wasn't quite sure what would happen, but it probably wouldn't be pretty.

Well, he was about to find out, on this day like all other days. Why should it be different? November 17th was a very, very normal day. Supposedly.

The blonde man aimed and shot a dummy, on which belly was painstakingly written AHO – courtesy of John, who apparently couldn't spell with his life on the line when the arrogant murderer was concerned – and immediately changed his position to shoot another. However, that decision was never carried to its term, because just as his index finger began to press down on the trigger, a foreign hand touched his shoulder.

With a manly shriek, Marco jerked away from the 'enemy', taking two steps back and ramming himself into the wall of the box in the process. At the same time, he aimed his gun at the 'malevolent presence', more than ready to just shoot him/her without question…

… And found himself face to face with a shell-shocked Meene, who immediately raised her hands and mouthed words he couldn't hear. At her feet laid the remains of a tray, which had once been used to carry a cup of coffee and a small stash of Belgian chocolate. The coffee was splattered on the floor – though he supposed he ought to be thankful none of the scorching hot liquid had found its way to his or her skin – and the chocolates were smashed to pieces. Great. Ahm. Back to the situation at hand, Marco.

The two stared at each other for a few more seconds, until Marco finally lowered his weapon and Meene her arms. Hurriedly, he discarded the gun and took off his earplugs, fidgeting with the equipment like he meant to tear it into pieces. "Sorry," he managed to blurt out, feeling his temples heat up in embarrassment, "… you surprised me."

The surprise passed, Meene offered him a feeble smile,

"It's my fault, Commander. They always told me not to bother you when you're down here… Now I know why."

A forced, false laugh passed the barrier of his lips, and he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers finally finding the egg-like protrusion that was the result of his meeting with the wall. A distraught grimace must have found its way through to his face, as Meene immediately frowned and took a step forward.

"Are you hurt anywhere? Commander, I really am sorry for what just happened. Let me accompany you to the infirmary."

Surprised, the blonde man stared at her for a second, before saying reluctantly: "Everything is perfectly fine… It doesn't hurt. I don't need…
- Ah, but you do," she maintained, a worried expression plastered across her pale face. "If there's a serious trauma, it can impede your judgment and take you by surprise later. I really don't want you to fall overboard or spill your scalding hot pasta water all over your body, Commander. Please?"

Marco felt his frown melt from his face without him having any say in it. She really was determined to get him checked up, ah… Oh, well. Letting her do her thing seemed to be less time-consummating than resisting, at that point.

With a small, polite smile, he nodded, and let the surprisingly strong Lieutenant drag him all the way to the infirmary.

"OK, Commander, I think you're good to go. There aren't any signs of trauma, and no open wounds. However, if you ever feel light-headed, nauseous – or anything really – during the next few days, don't hesitate to come back here," smiled Porf. Until that very day, infirmary duty was reserved to Jake, whose skill at healing, if it did not come close to Jeanne-sama's, was on par with most good human doctors. But now, with her gone, her shifts were to be redistributed… And awaiting that redistribution, Porf had taken them all.

With a small nod of thanks, Marco exited the infirmary. Meene followed, feeling better now that she didn't have to bear the X-II's amused stare. Porf was nice, but she still had admitted in front of him to have potentially seriously wounded their Commander… You could do better for a first month feat. Oh, well. At least, the fearsome Commander did not seem to be angry at her for spooking him. Really, during the whole check up, he had been the one to constantly reassure her that he was alright and didn't hurt anywhere, while simultaneously telling Porf the story in the least-humiliating way possible for her. So kind…

"You are really nicer than the others say," she finally observed out loud, though she did not seem to realize it before he stopped abruptly. "Oh, please pardon me. I didn't mean to –
- What do people say about me?"

She did not immediately answer, eying him warily as she visibly tried to formulate a polite answer. Or, at least, that was what he liked to think. Oh, he knew most of the tales the X-II shared on his account, but he couldn't pretend to be angry at them if he already knew them.

On the other side of the hallway, Meene found herself fidgeting. "P… Plenty of things.
- Ah, Lieutenant," he chuckled, "you can't escape the question so easily."

Why was she so intimidated suddenly? Why was she so damn scared? Well, it was probably because she had the bad impression of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. This sort of conversations wasn't her forte at all. "Well… Ahem… They say… They say never to bother you when you are in your study or on the training grounds. They say you are always alone, even when everyone's gathered, as if a ghost stayed between you and us. They say facing your fury is a worst fate than facing the great plague," her voice wandered off.

"I suppose that's a compliment…," he commented, a chuckle escaping his lips. She imitated him nervously, not sure whether him laughing was a good or a bad thing. "And what else do they say?"

For quite a long while, she stayed silent, trying to figure a way out of this increasingly dangerous conversation. Then, without really thinking about it, she blurted out: "They say the worst anyone could do is to bother you on November 17th."

His head jerked in her direction, and she suddenly wondered why she even voiced that last rumor. It was Larky, good-hearted but mischievous Larky, who told her about that last one, more as a warning than anything else really. It had stayed on the back of her mind, cluttering her interactions with the leader of the X-Laws. But- but for her to actually mention it on that very day… Was she mad?

They do say interesting things about me," he muttered in a very quiet, blank voice. She wished his tone would betray something, anything, but it didn't. "… Is that why you came looking for me on the training grounds?
- Yeah, actually that was why I came," she admitted, hurriedly, with a forced smile. "I hoped I could make you feel a little better. Obviously, I failed…"

The brunette threw a little apologetic glance to his head, which he swept away with a hand gesture. "I should thank you, Lieutenant."

Startled, she raised her eyebrows, not quite sure what he meant. However, that did not stop her from appreciating the kind words, especially when they came from such a rigid, distant person such as the Italian volcano. "Commander…
- Yes?
- "You can call me Meene, if you like. I have had many occasions to see you're not comfortable with first-name basis, but it must get lonely after a while. I won't mind, and I certainly won't feel insulted or anything. We can even keep it a secret…"

She did not actually feel as assured as her tone and words may make her look, but it seemed to work. Or, rather, it did not make him irate, which was as much as she would ever dare to hope. She was so engrossed in her reasoning that she did not notice the change in their surroundings before he actually stopped and turned to look at her.

Ah. They were finally in front of his study. Now she should go back to sparring with John and sort through the diverse reports they received from the Headquarters about Hao's evil deeds. But she couldn't really leave without him telling her to… Not without risking to offend him, at least.

"Well…" She stared up at him, almost expectantly. She thought he would simply dismiss her – after all, both of them had plenty of tasks to accomplish before noon, and with her little feat, they only had two hours and a half to accomplish them all. But no, he seemed to still have something

"Thank you for this surprise breakfast, Meene, despite its results," he finally said, apparently processing each word before finally letting it go. The foreign name slipped off his tongue almost too fast, giving him no time to savor it properly.

"You may go," he smiled gently, and the brunette had no choice but to go, even if she wanted to linger some more. He'd said her name with such an accent… It was almost ridiculous, she had to admit. But she didn't have the heart to correct him. So, without another word, the brunette walked away, leaving her Commander on his own. Said Commander did not, actually, disappear into his study immediately. Instead, he lingered, his fingers running through his hair.

"Thank you for everything, Meene," he repeated to himself, staring out of the window.

Dinner was over. It had been quite tense. Marco and Jeanne's silence seemed to influence the whole table, which was way quieter than it usually was. Lunch wasn't nearly as bad, as most of the angels only came in for a few minutes to grab a sandwich and go back to their daily tasks, but dinner had been… long. Especially after an – admittedly bad – jest from John earned his whole team an extra training session in hand-to-hand combat. To be honest, Meene was happy it was over, and a bit bewildered to behold the kind if apparently a bit awkward Marco from the morning switch to this sullen, murderous-looking man.

Finally Jeanne dabbed her mouth with her napkin, and announced she was leaving for the night. That was the signal for departure, Meene knew. Everyone stood, and while the X-II prepared themselves for their extra session, Christopher motioned for his team to return to their quarters. Marco quickly exited the room by a door, Jeanne by another, and soon the place was empty.

The Canadian had every intention to follow the gentle giant's command, but she felt something disagree from the pits of her stomach. Apparently, she did not digest the otherwise good-tasting fish Marco had made for dinner…

Feeling nauseous, the brunette turned towards the stairs and climbed to the outside deck. The cool air of the evening would probably do her good. As she expected, the evening breeze allowed her to breathe more freely, her stomach unknotting itself.

With a small smile of relief, the Canadian walked up across the large deck towards the other staircase. It was a shortcut that would bring her directly in front of her chambers. Hopefully no one would have noticed her absence, she thought as she came around the last corner…

Then she heard the voices.

Meene immediately stopped walking, and ducked behind the corner. A few meters away stood, massive and fear-inducing, the metallic Iron Maiden, in front of which even Marco seemed frail. Said Marco seemed oblivious to his surroundings, entirely focused on his discussion with their leader, whose iron casket's head mask was open.

What were they doing…? Usually, at that hour of the day, Jeanne was ten meters below the water surface, and Marco was locked up in his study with the reports of the day. Had something… Happened? Was he actually reporting her out-of-place behavior to their saint before finally firing her from the group? Or…

She should go. Whatever the two were talking about, she had no right to interfere, or even eavesdrop on them. Really, she should turn back and head to her room for the night… She should… Why wasn't she moving? Because her feet certainly didn't move. Why was she still there?

However, the Canadian was interrupted in her musings as a small gust of wind blew down the deck, immediately followed by a very surprising, and almost uncanny sentence from the Iron Maiden.

"Happy birthday, Marco," whispered said Iron Maiden. Her tone was odd – kind and gentle as ever, but uneasy, almost hesitant. And Marco's reaction – a glimpse of which she caught as she was turning around to stare confusedly – was just as strange. The blonde man went still for a split second, his features locking themselves into a blank expression. Meene held her breath, unable to think for a minute. So this was the reason behind his annoyance all throughout the day…? Odd…

"Jeanne-sama, you know I don't…
- Please, Marco," whispered the voice again, a voice so frail Meene couldn't believe it to be their leader's, "don't think about him. I just – I just want you to be happy today, even if only for a little while. It's important."

There was a pause, and Meene desperately told her limbs to move away. But apparently, her feet disagreed, and she stayed in place as Marco's response finally made itself heard.

"You are right, Jeanne-sama… I am happy now. Don't worry about me."

His smile was odd. Unlike his usual smirks of contempt or proud expressions, it looked weak, breakable, and fake, like it had been painstakingly painted on his face. Meene felt tears well up in her eyes, though she would have had a very hard time explaining why.

He's not happy, she realized. His furyoku was thicker and darker than she'd ever seen it be. What kind of nightmarish memory could make him so terrifyingly so…?

Jeanne seemed to shift inside the torture instrument, and suddenly she was reaching out through the mask opening with a bleeding arm. Marco was once again petrified, and Meene held her breath with him as the albino child (because, at that moment, the Canadian was unable to describe her in any other way) gently caressed the blond man's cheek.

Then this moment of eternity ended. The dainty hand retreated, and the mask of the Iron Maiden shut itself with a deep clang. From the inside of the iron monstrosity, the peaceful voice of the Iron Maiden requested to be lowered below the sea level, and Marco, after a minute, mechanically obeyed.

For a while, he stayed in place, his hands still affixed to the lever. Meene herself couldn't move; there was so much in that moment, a moment she should never have witnessed, that her heart was tearing apart. This… All of this seemed so surreal. Sure, Marco was their Commander, the only one to be under Jeanne-sama's direct orders, but this hinted at a relationship way more intimate than the Canadian could have ever imagined.

Wait, he was coming her way. She had to go, and fast – as soon as he'd turn the corner, he'd find her, and then… Then what? Would he actually explode and separate her soul from her body? Eh, that probably would be a happy outcome compared to what he'd do…

Cursing under her breath, the brunette tried to sneak her way back to the door leading to her room, but wasn't nearly fast enough.

"Li- Meene? What are you doing here?"

Dang it. She was discovered.

"Please receive my apologies, Commander. I should never have eavesdropped on you and Jeanne-sama like that. I never meant to either, please believe me!"

The formerly sweet night air had turned icy cold. Or maybe that was because of Marco's furious stare that Meene felt so many chills dance on her spine. Really, she should have listened to the others. The Canadian really didn't want to end up plastered across the deck, but it seemed more and more likely to happen with every new second.

They were still outside, though the likely furious Commander had dragged her away from the well-lit area down to the lower deck. His expression never changed, solidified into a placid mask. His silence, his expression, his grip – it frightened her, so she found herself babbling to fill it. Maybe if she managed to voice enough apologies and excuses, he'd forget about the whole thing… Nope.

He seemed to discuss with himself what to do with her, and she did 'not' meant that in the good sense of the term. His line of thinking seemed to wander between the simple "dismiss and ban from the X-Laws for life" and the much more dangerous (for her) "burn like a witch – worse, a car thief – at stake" area of the punishments district.

Marco sighed softly, and finally pronounced her sentence: "Well, now you know why I don't like that day."

She blinked. And blinked. And blinked a third time, too. "No, actually, I don't. The fact that it's your birthday… Shouldn't that make it a joyful day for you? Wouldn't you want your squad to celebrate it?
- No. No," he repeated, in a lighter tone. "It would only distract them. And it wouldn't make me any happier.
- Bad memories?"

Was she dumb? She was already lucky to live after being caught eavesdropping on the active volcano that was Marco Maxwell, but to actively question his actions was suicide.

Despite this overwhelming anxiety of hers, her inquiry did not actually make the Commander of the X-Laws snap. "You could say that. It's more of a bad shadow tainting all those bright memories," he enunciated, after a few reluctant moments of silence. "Plus we're not here to celebrate such ordinary things. We have a mission. The date of my birth should not turn us away from the duty."

She observed him in silence for a while, before piping up: "That's not what you said to Jeanne-sama."

His face darkened alarmingly, and Meene suddenly felt very conscious of the discrepancy between their amounts of power – be it shamanic or otherwise. Did she really want to make him angry…? It was beginning to seem so. As the seconds ticked by, she found herself agreeing to the idea that she must have lost her mind somewhere. Marco had shown himself, during the month or so she'd traveled with the group, rather violently over-protective of Jeanne-sama… If he actually lied to her, he must have good rea…

"… Jeanne-sama's heart… She's completely pure, you know. She shouldn't have to worry about such puny matters. I don't want her to be tainted by them…
- … So you lied to her, because that way you're the one tainted? Is that it?
- … Yes, it's probably among those lines."

A split second she considered forcing him to see the truth. It had not worked. Their saint had seen right through him, Meene could have sworn it. But he probably knew that… Probably. After all, he was the first follower of their saint… Well. What did she know? And, first and foremost, she had no right to pry into those matters. Not yet, not when she was still only a newcomer into this strange little world that was the X-Laws' ship.

"Okay.
- Okay what?" He really was confused now. That made her giggle a second, like a schoolgirl, and she had to force herself to stop, just like a schoolgirl. Really now? He was making one hell of an amusing face, though.

"Okay I will keep your secret, Commander."

But please never smile that way again. No. She was as brave as anyone, but certainly not enough to allude one more time to what she should never have heard. Another awkward silence followed, as Marco processed her words and their meanings. He certainly looked younger when caught off-guard, almost childish…

Lost in her musings, the Canadian almost missed his call, and he had to repeat it, marring his features with a frown: "Meene?
- Y-yes?
- After what happened tonight… I guess you earned the right of being on a first-name basis with me. As long as we're alone, of course…"

There was another kind of smile adorning his face right then. It didn't seem forced, or fake, or even ironic. No, it looked almost genuine, and almost timid. That distracted her, and she had even more of a hard time understanding what he just said. Thus, when she actually did understand, a not-so-subtle blush heated up her cheeks.

"O-Of course, Commander! I mean… Marco…"

She said his name so naturally, even if she seemed hesitant to pronounce it at first. It seemed to him that she was tasting the sounds as she let them roll off her tongue, like foreign pieces of bitter candy. It was amusing, in a way, because almost no one actually called him Commander when not in front of outsiders or enemies, but it was also quite endearing.

Wait.

Endearing?

He wasn't quite sure he liked the idea. Or rather, he wasn't sure he liked the fact that he actually liked her. Ah, well. Too complicated for one night.

"See you tomorrow, then, Meene. At 6:00 am, right?"

She looked at him owlishly for a few seconds, apparently not processing the words she had been given. Despite the phrasing and the tone, she could guess it was, more or less, an order – an odd, out-of-place order, but one nonetheless. What was his point…?

Ah, well. She didn't really mind. After all, she could do with some help in the shooting department…

"Of course, Marco!"