The energy spilling on the wall as though it is all that remains, do you remember your hopes? The beats that once sounded, do you recall your own feelings? The ceiling is the wall, as the floor is the sky… do you even know what you are? Is it possible your emotions do not make you, but instead turn into a shell you hide within? Poor child, a cheap imitation of life because you love.
Entering the shop they looked around curiously, blue and mahogany eyes intent on finding just the right flowers with which to complete their mission. What kind of flowers would make Izumi happiest? At the counter a lone woman glanced up before tilting her head at them. Seeing the two a smile spread forth from her petal pink lips, satin and without a crinkle in them - perfectly smooth in appearance. Thick green dreadlocks of hair fell about her shoulders and reached her shoulder blades, one unusual rose tucked behind her right ear with every other petal a gold shade. She wore a plain pink dress that reached to her thighs, and over it was a white apron with four gold wire stems with fake leaves intertwining on it. She had on a pair of glasses that made her brown eyes appear larger than average, and the lighting of the shop made them almost a black colour, nearly eradicating the pupil's visibility. The pair of earthy green boots that went up to her knees and their painted yellow flowers at the top were made of the same rubber the gloves she wore, as well as being the same colour and design. Giving a light bow at her new customers she turned to look at them, all the while a kind smile kept her face as bright as the dandelions next to her. "Good evening, may I help you?" she inquired politely. Pinned to her shirt, just barely visible due to the apron, was a name tag that read, 'Yuri.' How... fitting.
"Err, y-yes..." Kouichi stammered, immediately looking down upon his attempt to answer fully. He couldn't stare the woman in the eye, one of the reasons was obvious - he was shy. The second was that she wore so much pink and all her colours matched that she almost reminded him of Mimi, whom he had always seen hang out with Izumi...
"My friend here is trying to tell this girl he likes how he feels, and we really need help picking out flowers for her. You know, something that'll match his words," Takuya explained as he scratched the back of his head nervously and laughing softly.
"Something that'll match his words?" Yuri tilted her head, smile going away briefly as she became slightly unsure of what that meant. She gasped before clapping her hands together, startling both teenage boys as she laughed herself. "Yes yes, flowers with meaning! All right. So tell me, how do you feel about this lucky young woman?" the woman inquired.
"I... err, well that is..." Kouichi stumbled over his words, taking his sentence from one direction to an entirely new and different one. All the while, the woman who worked at the flower shop listened intently, still smiling earnestly with her hands clasped together over her heart the entire time she listened. She looked hopeful, half as if she was thinking it was she they were referring to.
"Give her the note if you can't say it," Takuya whispered before gently nudging his friend in the ribs with his elbow. Squeaking at the ticklish spot being poked, the ravenette hurried over to the woman before thrusting the note into her hands, his face so red it matched the roses right by him. Wonder if there were sunflowers the size of Takuya's smile of amusement right now beside him? Nope. No such continued coincidences.
"All right, let's see here..." she murmured, unfolding the note. Her peaceful visage slowly turned to that of contemplative. Adjusting her glasses she peered at the paper, going over the words and every few seconds she'd glance around the store curiously. Each time blue and mahogany eyes would follow where hers trailed, silently wondering if she was staring at the brilliant blue violets, the soft textured irises, or mayhap even the enchanting white acacias. Then when her eyes traveled elsewhere on the store, they were startled to see grapevines coiling all along the walls followed by several hauntingly blue and crimson anenomes, and bright purple French willows. The third time and last time she looked up was right past them, causing the two teens to swirl around and stare at the various vases of purple lilacs, white lilies, and many-coloured oleanders that made her frown. No, it wasn't the flowers... Glancing up, the teens saw two strange men and one unusual woman. All three wore black suits and glasses, and hats on their heads that shadowed their faces in the shop and setting sun in the background. A deep burning red of the lowering orb shone through, shadows rising slowly from its position. The woman had long white hair to her waist, skin so frighteningly pale that the red from the sky seemed to be her very own skin. She stood between the two males, her purple lips almost mocking of frostbite and devoid of any hint of what she thought or felt. The man on her right side had bandages wrapped around his neck, looking so tight that Takuya and Kouichi had to wonder if he was silently being strangled to death by it. A few more bandages wrapped around his right eye, which made the glasses on him almost redundant. The third and tallest man on the woman's left had platinum blonde bangs protruding from beneath his hat and skin equally pale as the woman's - his lips had the same frostbitten appearance as well. They stood in an ideal line and perfectly erect.
"You..." Yuri whispered, eyes widening in fear as she took a slow step back. Releasing her grip on the paper rather than tightening it, the piece fell from her hands and fluttered down to the floor. The three people merely stared at her, but the woman's head slowly began to move down, glancing at the two teens who stared at them with confused expressions that mirrored each other. Silently gazing at them briefly until she sighed, she pulled out a glimmering gun... or at least, that's what it looked like. Just what type it was or its country of origin neither teen knew, as they had never seen such a device on television or in books.
"We've come here to rob you, hand over the money and no one gets hurt." This new woman spoke with a demanding tone, her articulation not once wavering. She was calculating and straight to the point, not a hint of fear or insecurity about the act she was committing. "You two." She motioned to the teenagers. "Go into the backroom and stay there. You," without her gun ever leaving the two males that stood flabbergasted at her blunt manners, her head turned in the slightest to Yuri. Her gaze could still be felt regardless of the head altering its position. "Stay out here. You're the one we want for this." The girl glanced over to the two teens and bit her lower lip, and then nodded before scurrying over to the counter.
"No, he stays," the man with bandages stated in a raspy voice. To clarify which 'he' was being referred to, he pointed at Kouichi. Blue eyes widened in horror, almost as if a new understanding came to him. The brunette, however, did not have the faintest idea as to what was going on. The woman turned to the bandaged one as though challenging his decision, but the blonde haired man moved over to whisper something into her ear. Her lips parted, a thoughtful look coming over her. She turned back to the two teenagers standing in front of her own trio. "A hostage," came the brief explanation. A pale hand gripped a tan one, clasping over it tightly.
"Do as they say," Kouichi whispered quietly, his eyes wide. He stared ahead at the three figures, now more of silhouettes than people. He slowly let go of the other's hand before offering a warm smile. "I'll be fine, promise. Just go back there, okay? I don't want you to get hurt." In all the years they had known each other, with every passing event that smashed into the pair of friends, not once had Kouichi done or said something so brave, so fearlessly. The brunette had trouble to not stare at his friend, eyes widening at this unexpected turn. The red was almost taking over the room, black shadows flitting about. The only person visible to mahogany eyes was a friend; an old friend, being slowly washed in red light.
"N-no," Now it was his turn to stammer.
"Takuya, please..." Begging motions, reds turning to shadows.
"I'll count to three." The woman readied her weapon, a clicking sound following it.
"Here, I'll take you to the back. It'll be all right." Yuri put a gloved hand on his shoulder; he wouldn't budge.
"I'm not leaving Kouichi here!" A hiss, clasping a hand over something warm and familiar - a friend.
"One." A white acacia, friendship in the hand.
"It's okay, they're just using me as a hostage..." Soothing words masking a darker undertone.
"Listen to your friend." Twisted words from a man hidden beneath writhing bandages.
"But--" A protest to never let go.
"Two." Crimson anenomes, claiming otherwise.
"C'mere, I'm sick of this." Blonde hair swaying as he reached forward to snatch what they wanted.
"Just wait, we'll put him in the back!" A lily on the water, fighting against the current.
"Wait--" Eyes widening in fear.
"Let go of him!" Ruby eyes shining as brightly as the untainted bravery to protect what was most important.
"Three." Colourful oleanders of warning, splattered in a colour that remained the same in the red setting sun as its whispers remained unheeded. Aside from the ringing that remained long after the fire came hurtling forward to a target it missed, there was nothing but a horrific silence. Black eyes widened in fear, the three robbers recoiling instantly at their mistake. All at once sound resumed, boots stampeding as the two men and one woman raced out of the store - gone. Yuri rushed to her counter, knocking over several vases and cases as she did so before reaching under and smashing down on a button - summoning. In all the fragmented moments only two shadows were on the floor. One was kneeling, and the other bleeding.
"...Kouichi?" Takuya whispered, a shaky tan hand reaching down to touch black hair turned red. "Kouichi..." He whispered, clenching a pale hand that gave no returning squeeze as he still clasped it tightly. He was dead.
It was a month since the failed robbery, and three weeks had passed now after the funeral of Kouichi Minamoto. A few days ago, after finally working up the nerve, Takuya explained to Izumi how much his friend had cared for her - she had cried - but he left out the reason why they were at the flower shop was because they wanted to get her a bouquet. No reason for her to feel blamed, after all... it was his fault to suggest something so ridiculous. It was his fault he didn't listen. It was his fault... that Kouichi pushed him out of the way... and in the end, he still had to let go of that hand. Lying on his bed, he stared up blankly at his ceiling with a vacant expression. A gray sheet was disheveled beneath him, the matching neutral blanket kicked to the side and hanging off the side of his futon and so was also all over his floor. Barren walls surrounded him, portraits and sketches all drawn by his close friend cautiously taken down before being put away for safe keeping - to hide away the fresh memories that burned with guilt and accusing eyes that his friend had drawn without knowing. Little holes littered the walls where they used to be pinned, most on the side where he currently lay. The pillow tucked beneath his head was a plain white, the case still in the dryer with the others. A dirty wooden floor half-covered in papers with scribbles of apologies was empty as well, its usual covering of clothes actually put away where they belonged. Without a friend to hang out with, he had nothing better to do than clean his room up. With no Kouichi to laugh at as he dragged a disgruntled artist to play soccer, the game suddenly seemed so pointless. A television sat patiently in a corner, a game console attached but starting to gather dust due to lack of usage and care. It was just another reminder that he didn't have someone to watch him play games as they doodled the craziest possible pairings they could conjure, laughing all the while at how deranged some became.
A controller was wrapped up on top of it, the second one tucked gently beneath the entertainment center that supported the electronic device that relinquished the scenery from the games. Plastic cases protecting the discs of movies and video games sat idly, waiting for the day they'd be shared by two souls close enough to see even the most demented of a film and come out laughing by the end. All to feel safe, all to know they weren't alone in their fear. The hard surface of the support was a maroon colour, its close relations to red almost working as the catalyst for hours of tape-looping, the last moments of his friend's life playing over and over nonstop, the horrific scene always as fresh as the moment it happened. Perhaps it was happening, over and over again with Takuya merely thinking it already happened. By where the television sat was a small desk, the pencils all gathered into a singular cup with pens inside a paper plate besides it. A black laptop littered in stickers of various images lay quiet, it's cord set next to it and the charge all gone. After two weeks he had given up finding any reports on the internet regarding the three robbers - not even any information on them as citizens could be found. It was as though they were there just to kill Kouichi, and then ceased to exist. No name, no thought, no nothing beyond that singular event.
Since that day, not once had Takuya gone anywhere near the flower shop. Yuri had told the officers everything she had seen and assured them of all the events, and then he was also questioned. The police didn't outwardly scold him, but he could get the basic underlying meaning in their words - you should have listened, otherwise your friend wouldn't be dead. The guilt was eating away at him, and the unexplained continued to haunt him. Why did Kouichi and Yuri look as though they recognized these people? Why was it that he was excluded from all this? Giving a dismayed sigh Takuya rolled onto his stomach as he stared ahead at his empty red wall - mocking him. Why was his favorite colour red? It was sick, liking the same colour as the fluid that pulsed through your veins. Disgusting. No wonder he was so stupid to not listen, he was sick. Twisted. An inexcusable existence that was the downfall of those close to him... Scrunching his eyes closed the brunette quickly clutched the uncovered pillow close to him. Why did Kouichi have to jump in the way for him? He was the protector, not Kouichi! It wasn't right...
"Takuya, phone call!" His mother hollered up at the teen. Burrowing his face deeper into the soft pillow he sighed. He didn't have it in him to answer. Rubbing his watering eyes on the fabric of his sole comfort at this point, he dragged himself out of bed before going downstairs to answer. Taking the phone from her he put it on his ear, face clearly showing there wasn't enough heart in him at the moment to force out emotion or fake cheerfulness.
"What?" came his inquiry, devoid of any care.
"Hello Kanbara-san, this is Wolf speaking. I was just calling to let you know that your clone is complete."
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon. I never have, and never will. The entirety of this fanfiction is merely that - a fan-made piece of fictional prose with no other intent that to amuse. None of these characters are mine, with exception to one or two of my trade-mark OCs who tend to appear for comic relief.
A/N: Yeah, you THOUGHT Yuri was a mary-sue... now what? Also, I am aware that Kouichi's real last name is Kimura, however for story reasons I changed it to Minamoto.