Written for Shirei. Dedicated to Julia Cukier Siegler, who I hope is resting in peace.
Chandelier
The first time I really, truly thought of Mikan Sakura as a human being, I think, was when Tobita Yuu asked me a question.
"What do you think of Mikan-chan, Hyuuga-san?"
美
She stares at me calmly right now, with those strong, beautiful hazel eyes, and reaches out to take my hand. For once, hers are even whiter and colder than mine.
"I'm not scared."
I know it. How could you not, if you really looked at her? Even with all her long, chestnut colored hair gone, and her body looking thin and frail as humanly possible, the straight arch in her back that holds as she rests against her pillow and the regal way she lifts her chin up shows what words can not explain.
Mikan Sakura is not scared of death.
But I am.
The monitor next to her bed continues to show her steady heart rate, not betraying the serenity of her poised face. Her lips are not stretched into one of her signature heart-warming smiles of bright, flashing teeth, or an angry pout whining for attention from the people around her, but are merely set into a curved 'M', waiting for yours truly to speak.
"What's the first thing you'll do when you're up there?"
She laughs. She does not giggle, nor snort, nor chuckle or guffaw, but laughs-a hearty emotion-filled sound that colors the white room with something more than stillness and sorrow. "Who says I'll be up there?" Her eyes shine with amusement, and she fingers the tassels of the thick shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders with the other hand that does not hold my own. "I've done plenty of bad things in my life, you know."
"All for me." I was the one who reached out and grabbed a hold of her hand. I was the one who begged her to stay, to brave the dark, bloody thorns surrounding me so I could have a chance at love. At happiness.
She wouldn't have exhausted her alices to the point of irreparable body debilitation if it weren't for my demand. She wouldn't be dying if it weren't for me.
Stupid, selfish me.
"Don't think like that." Her tone turns serious and her eyes droop down in conflict. "Don't blame yourself, Natsume. It's all thanks to you I'm not scared anymore."
"But," she muses, withdrawing her hand from my clasp and stretching out to lightly touch one of the many paper cranes hanging from the walls of her room. These paper cranes were made by the toiling hands of friends, loved ones, and all the people who have been blessed by this girl's radiance. A thousand paper cranes of blood, sweat, and tears were created and put to form for a single wish.
A futile wish, she had said, when first waking up enclosed in these very white walls. But still, she had smiled, finally seeing how much she meant to everyone else.
It's funny, really, how people don't realize their own worth until the very end.
"Natsume?" I blink, and turn my attention onto her face. The hazel color in her eyes change once more, turning darker in worry.
I didn't want her to ever look like that again.
"Sorry. Caught up in my own useless thoughts. What were you saying before?"
She frowns, clearly not believing me, but decides to avoid the topic. "I was saying how, if I were to go up to heaven, I'd probably greet Mommy and Daddy first."
Mommy and Daddy? Seriously?
Her innocence and childishness have always captivated me.
The knock on the door finally comes, and in walks the great medical prodigy, Subaru Imai himself, followed by his demon clone of a sister. He holds his plastic clipboard to the side, scrutinizing its contents. "How are you, Mikan?" he asks, checking off a few things on the medical forms in front of him.
If you were only an ordinary member of society, witnessing this particular scene unfold, you would have probably seen a nonchalant, experienced doctor casually asking his patient how they were doing. However, if you looked rather closely at the corners of his eyes, you would have noticed his pupils slightly dilated, shifting rapidly back and forth in anxiety as he took a couple of more steps forward.
"Tired," she replies truthfully, executing a loud, lazy yawn to only prove her point further.
Imai, the younger one, takes a step forward, the rims of her dark purple eyes red and ill-disguised. "You don't have to do this," she practically begs, reaching out to take her friend's shoulders. "You can wait. We can find a cure in a few months, I-"
"Please." Mikan reaches out to touch the other girl's face, carefully grasping it in a gentle embrace. "I'm tired, Hota-chan. I don't want to fight anymore. Stop pushing yourself for the impossible."
In response, Imai's face scrunches up into an entirely broken expression: eyebrows angled sharply inwards, mouth held in a tight line, eyes half-closed in absolute pain and sorrow. Her hands flail in open air, drowning in her despair as she clutches onto the one person she's been with forever. "I need you," she moans, tears fluidly sailing across her cheeks.
I do too, Imai.
But this is what she needs.
"Are you ready?" Subaru pulls his sister away, spinning her towards my other side. It's not that he's being cruel and inconsiderate, but he knows, as I know, that the longer the two spend together, the more the best friends will end up hurting.
"I…I think so." Her confident expression falters and she starts to tremble faintly. I scoot my stool closer to her and hold both her hands in mine once again. "It won't hurt, will it?" she whispers, staring frantically into the doctor's eyes.
He shakes his head. "Quick and painless. Like falling asleep."
"I wish people would stop saying that," she sighed, forehead creasing slightly in frustration. "Death isn't like sleep. We're all bound to be touched by death at least once in our lives; the least we can do is to acknowledge the difference. I don't want anybody to say that I'm sleeping at my funeral. I'll be dead. Plain dead."
"You're rambling again," I say, reaching over to brush an eyelash off her face.
"That's because it's time to go. I hate goodbyes."
My voice comes out harsher than I mean it to. "You chose this ending."
Her face crumbles in pain. "I know," she says quietly.
Immediately, I feel awful. What am I doing in her last moments of life? "It'll be fine," I whisper. "You're Sakura Mikan. You can do anything."
You turned me into a human being.
"But I can't beat death."
The door closes, signaling that the siblings have slipped out to leave us two alone. They're probably expecting us to have one last 'passionate exchange' before she slips under.
It's passionate all right, but it's a different kind of passion. Instead of lust and kisses all over, merely staying by each other's side at till the last moment stirs and moves my heart.
How am I supposed to survive without this girl? What will I even do once she's gone?
"Natsume." Her voice causes me to stiffen and slowly look up from my musings. It's a strained, weak sound, coming from the red expression of someone about to burst into tears. "Natsume, I'm not scared but-"
I hold out my arms and she flies over. Finally, her serene mask shatters and the Mikan Sakura I first met and fell in love with is back for a single, precious moment. Tears flood her cheeks and drops one after another onto the white sheets, staining them with random dots of gray.
It takes all my pride, and the reminder that Mikan would only hurt more, not to cry along with her.
"I'm not scared of death," she sobs. "But I wish I had more time with everyone else."
美
"What do you think of Mikan-chan, Hyuuga-san?"
I think for a moment. This is the first time I've actually given any deep thought of the brat other than trying to guess the color and pattern of her panties. Maybe I should really make this opinion count.
"A chandelier," I finally declare, thrusting my hands into my pocket.
Inchou's expression furls into one of confusion. "How-?"
"A chandelier," I call out, as I begin walking down the hallway to class, "hangs steadfastly from the wall, bringing joy by being beautiful and bright."
"But eventually, they'll sway, buckle, and crash to the ground."
"Everyone will miss that chandelier, but they'll always appreciate its splendor."