Down Under
They met when she was ten, scarcely grasping the newfound power of Innocence (of innocence lost). A new girl, new weapon—tool and doll—brought to Headquarters. She had long flowing hair that curled gently between her thin, narrow shoulder-blades and wore an eternal smile.
– this was the one who could melt leaden hearts
She sauntered into his room one morning and gave herself a fright. Looked up at him in awe and wonder (so this was the infamous General Cross) and mumbled an apology. He bent down, face-to-face, and stroked her cheek like a good kitten.
– if only she mewed: that would be deliriously cute
Lenalee blushed—almost as good and sweet as a kiss. And General Cross stood to leave. This was the last time their paths would intertwine, a fated discovery, till much, much later.
(Lenalee stared after him—not wanting him to leave.)
The mystery hung in the air like the uncut torn ragged flag of an almost-apocalypse.
--
Her brother was a fanatic.
He doted on her, determined that no other man will ever lovely, pure Lenalee (Komui will slice his head and neck, nick and clean, and offer them to others as a warning). Sometimes, the vehement degree of devotion frightened her, like a maniacal enthusiast turned mad. But Lenalee was glad too.
After all, he was her brother.
And he was the one who mitigated the aching emptiness in the white death of night. Then she would ask, all of a sudden, who was General Marian Cross (that was a shaker in the atmosphere). Blankly, Komui would gaze back with haunting eyes and a void-less-voided mouth.
"Someone whom I knew a long time ago."
She fought her burning questions tooth-and-nail, hanging her head in mock-dejection and deep contemplation.
--
Once, she stumbled upon a treasure chest (emerald troves and pine-green groves, and the garish gray of graves). Inside, she found a photograph and a small silver box made for storing cigarettes. Lenalee held them close to her heart and imagined the owner's flaming hair and sharp eyes.
She dreamed a history for him, stories she invented to combat the curiosity.
"Will he ever come back, Nii-san?"
Komui's face flashed a brief spasm of distress. "I doubt that, Lenalee. General Cross is not the type to stay still."
"But can I still ask him?"
He laughed. "The General hardly knows you. Trust me, he won't ever come back."
--
The years passed. She trained she grew she lived. And still, she could never forget about him completely.
…so this is what they meant by "crush"…
He swam in her dreams, long strokes and bare, broad shoulders. He plunged through each layer of sonorous cerebral wishing, an osmotic particle sifting through with ease. He never stopped to wait, no matter how loud or how shrill her cries became.
Sweat prickled her forehead, damp beads trailed down her neck to shoulders to arms. Legs kicked the covers, feet bony and twisted, running wildly in air, desperate to reach some elusive silhouette, some inconstant and ephemeral concept just beyond the horizon.
Always just beyond.
Lenalee begged her legs to run faster, leap higher, to reach him no matter what. But she never did because he was as tangible as a ghost's embrace or a nightmarish love affair.
--
A boy named Allen appeared one day, introduced himself as the current and sole apprentice to Master Cross. Lenalee cringed, tearing up, happy but still wanting to kill the arrogant ass—for leaving, for not saying goodbye, for—she stopped.
Allen walked right over to her and beamed a killing smile. And that was the end of solving the crux of a cross. She took his hand and led him inside.
--
In her mind, she replayed the moment they met: a perpetual rewind, hit and record. Like a broken cassette tape or scratched flimsy disk, Lenalee's memories are jilted and unreliable. What her heart said (what she remembered) was fallacious and untrustworthy.
So, she stow them away in crooked, rough cemented crates and guaranteed (herself, adamant) that this was the end of everything.
That she had absolutely forgotten who this "Marian Cross" person was, that he was just someone she met a long time ago (Komui's words repeated). That he was someone she will never encounter again.
Because he was like a snake, slithering and slippery and incapable of getting caught.
--
Then one unfortunate day, she saw him again. Still rugged, worn down by years of incessant battles and the pugnacity of an unforgiving world.
He eyed her, and she knew: he still thought her beautiful. And that was enough. Lenalee smiled back brightly, ready to dash into his arms like she did as a child. (Because some things will never change.)
She was still down-under the current, having been the one to get entangled in the end.