It was raining when she was wheeled screaming bloody murder into the ER. She feels as if every move triggered a live wire, as if needles had replaced every vein in her leg, and it is so unbearable. On the way, she catches a glimpse of an adolescent girl clenching her teeth as the doctor before her carefully bandages her hands, sees the angry red blisters and charred, ashy flesh. She passes out as she is rushed through the blindingly bright halls.
When she regains consciousness, her head's muddled from the anesthesia. She's in a white room, that much she can make out, but when she sees the contrasting reds and yellows, she thinks she's burning again, and she shrieks. Someone tries to calm her down, shakes her shoulders until she wakes up to the streamers and balloons scattered around the sterile bed. There's a girl in front of her, dark-haired with a dusting of freckles across her face.
She pulls back when she sees the new girl has calmed down. "Thank god you're okay. You nearly gave everyone a heart attack." She chuckles at her own joke and straightens up. "I'm Mukuro, nice to meet you." She holds out her hand, which the currently bed-ridden patient tentatively shakes. "I share the room next to you with my sister."
She blinks. "Oh, where are my manners? My name is Celestia Ludenberg, but you can call me Celes. Delighted to meet you." She tilts her head and smiles. "Thank you for helping me."
Mukuro grins back. "No problem. I've got to get back to my sister now. Just shout if you need anything." She lazily waves her hand before turning on her heels and exiting.
Celes then realizes that there's another person in the room. She was so quiet, she hadn't noticed until the other girl had left. She begs her pardon and reintroduces herself, again with her alias. She has no reason to trust the people here, so passing out her real name like business cards is absolutely pointless. The girl in the other bed can tell. Her name isn't Japanese after all, and she's intrigued, but she knows better than to ask. There's obviously a reason "Celestia" won't tell.
"My name is Kirigiri Kyouko. Pleased to make your acquaintance." The practiced line is void of any real emotion, said so many times to so many others, it's long since lost its meaning to her. Celestia racks her mind, trying to figure out why this girl looked so familiar. It was right on the tip of her tongue, scrabbling to resurface from the murky waters of her addled mind.
"Have we met before? Your face looks awfully familiar…" Celes' brow furrows in concentration. Just where had she seen her before? Walking along the streets? On one of her visits to the bigger cities?
"I was in one of the rooms you passed by while they carted you into the ER." Her stoic expression breaks into a slight smile. Celes suddenly became very conscious of how her hair looked like a bird had made a nest out of it and the bags under her eyes. "You were causing quite the racket there. May I ask why you're here?"
Celestia explains that she had lost a bet against her "friends" during a camping trip, so she had to put out the fire. One thing lead to another, and they soon came to dare her to stomp it out instead of extinguishing it with water. When she tried to back out of the dangerous act, they taunted and sneered at her. Of course the queen of liars would try to talk her way out of doing something that would muss up her pretty little dress. Celes had watched them shake and reel, holding their stomachs, and fall to the ground laughing.
Celes became hotheaded, ears bright red. She may be able to endure the shit they constantly threw at her, but that was something that struck a chord in her, something that infuriated her to no end. If looks could kill, those guffawing buffoons would've been dead a thousand times over.
Celestia had ground her foot into the smoldering fire in anguish, throwing precaution to the wind in her rage. A spark landed on her stocking, lighting it aflame within seconds. Fortunately, they had the jug of water they were originally supposed to use to douse the campfire. Her so-called companions had driven her to the hospital, leaving her with a burn that barely reached the bottom of her kneecap.
"I've told my story. I believe it's only right that you tell me yours in return." Celes rarely found a listener as quiet or patient as this one. She'll lend her her ear, if only to hear in her voice the person behind her guarded words.
Kirigiri started her story walking home from the grocery store. She'd seen a shadow slinking away in the corner of her eye and her ears had picked up a low, muffled growl. Curious, she made her way down the alley, following the sound of shuffling clothes and occasional whimpers.
She opened a door at the end of the narrow passageway, and a musky smell hit her like a wall. Dozens of dogs had been shoved into cages clearly too small for one of them, much less four. Kirigiri had accidentally kicked over one of the many empty beer cans dotting the floor, alerting the breeder of her presence. He dropped the cigarette clenched between his yellowed teeth, lunging toward her. It landed on a trail of gasoline, leaked from at least half a dozen barrels of fuel. They exploded and the building went up in flames.
The criminal escaped, but Kirigiri stayed back. Those dogs would've been reduced to nothing more than a pile of ashes if left in their cramped prisons any longer. As she unlocked the last of the cages, a burning slab of wood landed on her hands. She quickly yanked them from under it, but her hands were on fire, and they had blackened before her very eyes. She had screamed in pain and rushed outside. She is so grateful it was raining when she made it out of there.
After hearing both sad tales, the girls feel strangely empty. Almost as if someone had cut them open, violently torn their guts out, and had stitched their hollowed out corpses back together. Neither could put their finger on what exactly they were feeling, but they don't talk much after that.
Kirigiri is seeing her hands for the first time since she arrived. She keeps a stone cold exterior, but Celes can see all the sadness welled up in her those violet orbs as she stares at the hands life had so cruelly mutilated. No words
needed to be said. They all knew her hands would never make a full recovery.
Celestia won't get her leg unwrapped for another week. Walking sends shocks of pain up her leg, so she either uses crutches or a wheelchair. Sometimes, Kirigiri asks her if she wants to walk around the courtyard, but every time she refuses. Celes isn't ready to trust her. She's had her heart thrown on the cold, unforgiving ground, had it chopped up into a hundred pieces, fed through a grinder, and ground to dust by the heel made of contempt and disgust. When it had finally been buried in the dank, muddy dirt of despair, the monsters that had so cleverly disguised themselves within the masses of their own had spit on its grave. She doesn't know if she'll be able to trust anyone ever again.
Kirigiri has a bad habit of thinking of others as mind games, always trying to figure out what makes their gears turn and the thoughts behind every action. Celestia Ludenberg is... complex. She tends to stray away from large crowds and is very reserved, yet she spreads wild stories of exaggerated achievements. Her answers to prying questions seem farfetched and judging from the way she holds herself, it's plain she is not, or she doesn't want to be, clumped in with the rest of the people around her. For once, her bullet can't shatter the glass wall between them, can't find a weak point in her defenses.
Kirigiri socializes with some of the other patients, even forms a few friendships. Celestia can't comprehend why she insists on sitting with her, the outsider who'd rather sit out and observe the fun, the black sheep in the flock. At first, she only makes small talk, poor excuses of attempted conversations. Sometimes, Celes would ignore her inquiries entirely, refusing to address her presence, especially if they became too personal for her liking.
The girl always talks first, casually shooting questions at her. They all start the same way, simple how was your days and the weather is lovely todays, testing the waters before moving onto more intimate questions. Kirigiri thinks she's finally warmed up to her when she greets her first.
Eventually, the girls begin to wonder why no one bothers to come pay the other a visit. The subject is brought up while they eat lunch. Kirigiri recites that her mother had died when she was still a young child, no older that 6, and her father left two years after. She was taken in by her as-of-now late grandfather, a strict man who lived by many rules. She'd wished for her dad to come home for so long, but he never looked back, never came back to whisk her away from the iron-fisted man. She has long since discarded that figure she once called her father.
Celes simply tells her that she had done many terrible, terrible things, and she wishes more than anything to rewind time and undo her past. Celes doesn't know why she's opening up to the violet-haired girl. Perhaps she pities her, with her heavyhearted story, or she wishes to be pitied herself. Maybe it was that look she had when she talked about her father, that melancholic expression flashing across her face before returning to its uniform emotionless shield.
They eat in silence after. That night, Celestia turns her head toward the other side of their blanch room to see Kirigiri sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her thin legs and head buried in her knees, shoulders trembling.
They interact more often after their conversation, slowly breaking down their walls, as though they've found a kindred spirit among the hundreds of strangers housed within the building. Kirigiri says she favors the mystery genre and Celes tells her she has a soft spot for vampire novels. They even argue a bit about whether there really is no answer to why a raven is like a writing desk (they eventually give up after getting headaches trying to think up a response before the other). During their increasing hangout sessions, Celes teaches Kirigiri a few tricks to winning a poker game. The other girl shows her a couple ways to defend herself if the situation calls for it.
Other times they'd do something silly, like have contests to see who can hold up poker faces longer. As the days go on, Celes finds it harder and harder to keep a straight face as she gets closer to the quiet girl. It isn't too long before she realizes she's got more than a little crush on Kirigiri. She wonders when and how she'll reveal the girl that had been too terrified of letting others come into the confines of her heart to give her real name to potential genuine friends.
"You've told me you don't have feelings for your father anymore, but do you ever think of him?" Celes questions Kirigiri one morning.
Kirigiri physically stiffens. "I no longer want to have anything to do with that man."
Liar. That was a lie, a pretty bad one at that, and Celestia would be damned if she couldn't tell just from the way Kirigiri looks to the side instead of in her eyes when she forces the words out of her mouth.
The next time Celes is woken up in the middle of the night, it is because of loud sniffling from the bed across the room from her. "Kirigiri?" No response; she doesn't seem to have heard her. Now wide-awake and slightly worried, she silently slides out of bed, wincing as she lands on her injured leg. It had healed significantly, but it still stung when she put weight on it.
She made her way to the other bed, limping slightly. Kirigiri was curled up again, oblivious to the world around her. "Daddy…"
That broken, choked up call tugs at her heartstrings and she reaches out and pulls the girl into a tight embrace. "You idiot, don't you dare utter another word about not missing your father."
They stay like that for a while, Kirigiri sobbing and mumbling into her shoulder and Celes gently stroking the shaking girl's hair, giving her a comforting pat every now and then. She stills after a few minutes and Celes thinks she's finally asleep, but as she moves to get up, Kirigiri grabs at her sleeve. "W-wait… Celes-"
"Taeko."
Kirigiri's watery eyes are blurred with confusion. "What?"
She looks away. "My name. It's Yasuhiro Taeko."
"… Taeko… Stay for the night… Please?" Taeko can feel the refusal threatening to spill out of her throat, but those eyes that beg with so much need forces it back down. They fall asleep tangled up in each other's limbs, Kyouko's head buried in her neck and Taeko's arm draped across her waist.
The raven-haired girl wakes up first, and sleep still clouding her mind, she doesn't think twice before pressing her lips to Kyouko's cheek. The other stirs from the depths of slumber and Taeko bolts up, face in her hands and cheeks flushed. "Cele- sorry, Taeko? What's wrong?"
Taeko tries to make excuses, instead failing horribly and sputtering incomprehensible sentences. "Oh my god, you just looked so cute sleeping and I kissed you and-" Crap did I really just say that? She gets even more flustered and Kyouko's eyes widen. "Shit, I meant to say- I mean- Look, I like you a lot an-"
She freezes when she kisses her. "The feeling is mutual, Taeko." The shorter girl looks as if the world had been lifted off her shoulders, as if she'd been holding her breath for an eternity and had just been told she could let it out. Taeko throws her arms around Kyouko and kisses her again.
It's been a few days since that night. Even the hospital staff had noticed that the two girls had gotten closer. Holding each other's hands in the hallway, covering the other's face in kisses, giggling afterwards, they were hardly ever too far away from each other for too long. There were a few disapproving looks thrown their way but they were countered by friendly smiles and congratulations from others.
One afternoon, Taeko catches Kyouko staring at her bandaged hands with that kicked-puppy look yet again. She can't feel anything with her damaged hands anymore.
She gingerly takes hold of one hand and brings it up to her lips. "I've got the most beautiful person as my girlfriend and if any blind bastard dares to call you otherwise, they'll have hell to pay." Kyouko tries not to think so much about her hands and makes an effort to smile more.
Some nights, the girls lay in one of their beds with their arms wrapped around each other, reading a book borrowed from the hospital library (they're lucky the small hospital even had a library to begin with). Celes would have her head nestled into Kirigiri's neck as the taller girl read aloud, losing herself in the smell of roses and cinnamon, loving the humming vibrations on her lips accompanied by the soothing voice.
Celestia hates her own voice, hates the tone that suggests a false, underlying, all-knowing attitude. Kirigiri dislikes hers too, with how it lacks almost any emotion and the way it drives most away with its empty sound. Both, who are hateful to themselves, loves the other even with all their flaws because they cannot find comfort in their own sorry soul.
They celebrate Taeko's successful recovery by visiting the town. It's early spring, warm enough to not need a bulky coat, but chilly enough to wear a scarf. As they venture into the marketplace, Taeko buys Kyouko gloves, studded and leather. They decide to go see the cherry blossom trees in bloom and find a spot to take comfort in the silence, away from outside disturbances. Kyouko sings softly to herself. Taeko hums along, playing with the other girl's long lavender locks.
Taeko gets released and she is clearly upset about not seeing Kyouko as often, but is relieved when she hears that she'll get out in a few days. Taeko visits her each and every day until she, too, is let out of the hospital, where they met as strangers who shared a common injury and left as determined lovers who believed they could take on the world with the other by their side.
Overnight, their relationship takes a turn for the worse. Kyouko suddenly moves back in with her father, without a letter of apology or explanation, and Taeko is a weeping mess for days. They never quite forgot the feel of the curve of their lips against their cheeks or how their fingers seemed to fit between the crooks of the other's like puzzle pieces. But as the years go by, the heartache lessens and their faces slowly fade to memory, little more than pretty faces they loved when they were still young and broken.
When they meet again, they are vastly different from who they once were. Yasuhiro Taeko had embodied her alter ego, Celestia Ludenberg, making her way up the ranks of gamblers and earning her past nonsensical title as the "Queen of Liars". She's dressed up like a doll, wearing a dress with ruffles and lace that promises all eyes on her. Her hair's done up in a ridiculous fashion. They're probably extensions, she infers. We haven't been apart long enough for her hair to reach such lengths.
Kirigiri Kyouko had silently risen up as one of the world's greatest detectives, with a cold, hard glare trained to bore holes through criminals, revered as the young enigmatic girl who had yet to come across a case she couldn't crack. Taeko notes that she's wearing the gloves she bought her back when they were still unfortunate hospitalized victims of fire.
The gambler and the detective falter in their steps, but eventually they come face to face, each donning carefully sculpted expressionless masks.
Kyouko speaks up first, cold and clinical. "It's been a while, Taeko, too long I fear."
She warms up when she hears her call her by her real name, as if they still knew each other like the back of their hands. Maybe they still do, at least to some extent. "Likewise, Kyouko. Would you like to join me for tea in my room?" She takes hold of her hand, concealed scars hidden under worn leather, worn as the violet eyes that see carcasses on a daily basis, and traces her knuckles lightly. "I do believe we have some catching up to do." Perhaps this time she'll find it in her to tell her of all the things she's locked away in that prettied up, rotten heart of hers.
"I'll wait as long as it takes for you to be ready to take me back."