A/N: Critiques please. Thanks to TheRavenSlayer13 for reviewing! Sorry for the short chapter. Will update soon. Revised.
Chapter 2
It was difficult.
Studying, learning was more difficult than she had ever imagined. But she persisted, diligently poring over the books and not so diligently relaxing once she felt bored. She had to. Because she was never going home. Japan was where she would be staying till she grew into an ugly, wrinkled old lady made of nothing but saggy wrinkles and crumbled into bones. Eventually, she learned how to read and write in Japanese.
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Since its creation five years ago, at exactly two pm in the afternoon, whether it was rain or shine, a fight would occur in the small orphanage backyard. No one but the organizers had knowledge of it, it was all hush-hush and secret, of course. Witnesses were silenced immediately and effectively, to ensure none tattled on their game.
From her rusty still unfixed window, Charlene could spy on the entire withered lawn. The punches, the pummelling, the kicking and eventual begging of the victims were morbidly fascinating in the beginning, for Charlene had never seen anything like it. Mama had raised her as a "proper, respectable lady of an esteemed family" and lectured her whenever she attempted to skip her lessons to play with the less uptight boys downtown.
They brought her more fun than those boring lessons, at which she would usually sleep. The teachers were too afraid to wake her up, lest they get involved in a temper tantrum. Foot stomping, screaming the head off, crocodile tears, all that share of drama. Plus, who wouldn't jump at the chance to get paid without actually having to teach?
... Now that Charlene thought back to it, her previous tutors probably weren't as "virtuous as Confu-sius!" as she had ignorantly believed. And cheerily written on their gold wrapped Rolls Royce chocolate teacher's day cards.
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Every day, with wide eyes, and her nose pressed against the glass, she would watch them attack, breathe catching when one of them landed a hit, or performed a terrific trick, that she had read of. She had often heard of one of the older boys in the orphanage bringing their girlfriend(what a curious word! But Lover sounded much nicer) out for a movie, which was described her trusty pocket dictionary as a moving picture version of a story, but had never actually seen it. Mama never permitted her to, as she thought that she had better things to do than waste an hour of her life on watching one. The orphanage was also too poor to afford such a luxury, what with the dozens of mouths to feed.
Though that prompted the dangerous(but thrilling) thought of where exactly those boys had obtained the tickets.
For a while, Charlene had joined the dark side, and been converted into an ardent fan of theirs. On those afternoons, she would completely abandon her books, guiltily stolen from the neighbourhood library in favour of those 'movies'. She had a favourite fighter whom she rooted for whenever he turned up - he had wild hair, a lean muscly stature and a few scars marring his face. His eyes were like a bottomless pit of black, his pupils covering the entire expanse of his eyes, resulting in a rather bug-like look. Sometimes, with his languid, confident walk and supernatant ability of simply knowing where his opponent was, she had to pinch her skinny arm to convince herself that this was reality thus he did not have creepy compound eyes that allowed him a three-hundred and sixty degrees view.
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Jikai. She had picked up his name through the cacophony of hooting and hollering one cold lightly snowing afternoon. Charlene had been eagerly watching through her thoroughly wiped window sills, when his name had been shouted. Her ears had perked up, sought it out and automatically stored it, as if she had known about it beforehand. Maybe from a past life? Ooo! Maybe they had even been lovers in the Edo era, tragically separated from their love by the rift between their families! She did love her romance novels.
Not much thought had been given to specifically who he was, as she had been more focused on what he was, when she watched him in battle. His practiced, fluid movements that struck awe into her heart and fear into others made up most of her impression of him.
But still, she didn't expect him to possess such a common, ordinary name. When the man in question was simply... Extraordinary. Charlene thought that if he was to have a name at all - she preferred him not to have one as he would seemed more mysterious that way - it would be something exotic like Jakzylwan.
Though that was just her opinion. Which no one listened to. She was "stupid," after all. Charlene sighed. She jumped down from her bed and sneaked out her room to the kitchens. The matron was still on the prowl for her, but hadn't thought to look for her in the most likely of places. A refreshing cup of water would make her feel better. (She wanted to drink some hot chocolate but she didn't know how to make any, and it was too embarrassing to ask the matron - The powder was expensive, and Mama had always told her not to seem spoiled - so she had settled for plain water.)
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She loved watching Him the most. Charlene refused to call him Jikai. He performed the most splendid of somersaults, with impossible twists and turns through the air, before finally landing gracefully. On sunny days, the sweat covering his skin shone with a sparkle, and the sun would bestow its golden rays of light upon his head like a halo.
On those days, Charlene would be tempted to breathe "angel." But she had always resisted. Because it was sacrilegious. He fought, and created chaos, hence he would never be an angel. Unlike Mama. And maybe her cherubic self. He was agile and unpredictable like a cat, and would strategically strike his foe suddenly and unexpectedly. Unlike the other dumb brutes built of all brawn and no brain.
Out of the five fights he partook in that month, he had emerged champion of three. So she was stunned when she received news from the grape vine - almost literal grape vine, as she had heard it while accidentally eavesdropping on some older girls gossiping during their gardening shift as she ran from the matron - that he had been admitted to a hospital after being stabbed.
That night Charlene cried her eyes out, tears soaking her tattered pillow cover.
She didn't know why.
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Charlene had grown accustomed to the orphanage. From the lack of mountains of presents - or even one - and invited esteemed guests on her birthdays, to her absolutely awful bedroom. She had settled into the truth that her fate was to live a frugal life, friendless - unless you counted the matron still chasing her but not the way she dreamed, and forever alone. Because no one wanted a wife without a dowry. She would know. She had mailed Fredrick, only to receive a mocking, insulting reply which she immediately burned after reading.
Thus she was pleasantly surprised when she found herself sitting on a dusty but undeniably expensive blanket in a broom closet while hiding from the matron.
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She pulled out the blanket she was sitting on. Her eyes roamed about, inspecting the silken fabric longingly, that reminded her of a past life. Precise, near invisible stitches lined the hem. High quality cloth that was fluid and silver like mercury soothed her hand, that was feeling around the blanket, but stopped short when she saw the name 'L Lawliet' embroidered at a corner in gold.
Perhaps this was the owner! Maybe, maybe she would be the daughter of a rich tycoon who was orphaned, but had eventually summoned the courage to regain her wealth and succeeded! Maybe, L will be a sweet, kind girl who could relate to her plight, and would help her. They would become the best of friends, sharing secrets, painting each other's toe nails like she'd read about in books. Yes!
Charlene would pull out a gorgeous dress from a rack in a boutique, and say "this looks beautiful on you."
But L would giggle, "no, you look better in it!" Because she was nice and sweet and pretty!
And all would be better! Because L would be there, so she wouldn't be so alone again. Staring towards the groups, that were laughing happily while she was huddled in a corner reading her books, whilst wistfully glancing up every once in a while. Wishing. Always yearning.
Perhaps, now she would finally be able to live.
(What irony)
Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "This is going to be such an adventure!"
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Charlene crept out of bed, tiptoed to the door and peered out of a small hole in the it. "Ouch!" She hissed softly through her teeth when her skin pricked against the splinters in the door that stuck out like a bed of wooden nails. Wincing, she drew I a deep breathe and adjusted her body to position itself at an apt place to avoid the splinters and resumed her scouting.
Fortunately for her, the hall was empty, no matron, or do-gooders that would undoubtedly keep her from meeting her soon to be best friend in sight. Charlene double checked the halls again. Once satisfied, she grabbed her plastic bag of hoarded food and other items she would need on her journey and slowly pushed open the door that she had oiled a day ago. The extra oil, she had borrowed from the kitchens under the pretence of doing her chores. Charlene felt slightly guilty about disobeying Mama's orders never to steal, and betraying the matron's trust, but it had been a necessary evil on her quest find L.
She warily glanced around as she silently headed out of the orphanage. The lights were switched off, but she was familiar enough and knew its routes like the back of her hand, to steer herself safely out of the orphanage. Eventually, she reached the door. She remembered when she had first entered the orphanage, alone, afraid and stupid. How she had suffered, the humiliation and the sickness, and all that loneliness. But soon, she would be happy again.
She took a deep breathe and unlocked the rusty lock with a click, before pushing it open.
A smile stretched across her face as the curved moon, that she had gazed at for such a long time, with so much yearning shyly spread its silver rays into the cold dark orphanage.
A step. And another. And another. Soon, she was running down the steps and laughing, exhilarant. She giggled and waltzed around the street. Finally, After all those years of yearning and yearning and sighing, she was finally free of the bed bugs, the chores, the naggings. Her heart truly lifted for the first time in years - not by the kind of happiness she gained from books, that vanished without a trace once she had reached the end of her journey in stories.
But true happiness. That she had never felt before.
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Once she had come down from her high which lasted a year and consisted of lazily trepanising around the whole of Japan using stolen money and train tickets to travel from one part to another, Charlene returned to Kanto and began her search for L.
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She stared at the looming building above her in awe. This library was bigger, and fancier than any other she had visited. Thus, by extension, it would house top secret information of L. Because L was rich, smart and wouldn't just leave any information of herself lying about in random rundown libraries like the one near the orphanage, where anyone can access and take advantage of.
Charlene quickly glanced at the people milling around her. She suddenly felt terribly small. Here she was, in her tattered patchwork dress, sticking out of the well dressed crowd - who were staring at her - like a sore thumb. Should she have even been there in the first place? Should she run away? She wanted to stay, to find L, her soon to be best friend. A glow of happiness lit within her at the thought, but was briefly extinguished by a crushing, inexplicable sense of fear. She was afraid. But then she remembered that she was a Du Blois, rich or not, she still carried the family name. Confidence surged back and a moment later, she was walking through the automatic glass doors into the library.
Charlene shivered at the sudden cold, drawing her bag slung across her shoulder closer to her. The warm summer air was starkly different from the chilling air conditioned library which was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, most probably because everyone was either at work or in school. Rapidly, she walked towards the counter where the librarian was sipping a cup of coffee with a bored countenance. She had rather ordinary black hair and eyes, Charlene noticed, not that she would admit that to the librarian's face. It was rude. Charlene gave a little cough.
"Ano, Sumimasen ga, raiburari ni wa, L Lawliet-jō no nin'i no jōhō o motte imasu ka?" Charlene asked politely, fidgeting with her worn satchel that was digging into her shoulders with its weight. It contained six packets of tasty chicken instant noodles in case she was hungry and three books, again for when she felt particularly peckish. Though not in the physical sense.
"Mōshiwakearimasenga, watashitachiha izureka o motteinai," the librarian replied instantly without a glance in her direction. She tilted back her cup, downed the bitter brown liquid, turned around and slammed it on the table forcefully.
For a moment, Charlene was afraid that the fragile porcelain cup might crack from the impact.
"Ah-ah... Arigato..." Charlene replied hesitantly before fleeing out the library, with speed that rivalled a pervert caught in a woman's hot spring.
As far as she was concerned, that woman was crazy as her curly black hair that bounced with absurd vigour.
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Charlene panted heavily, her hands on her knees. Her head was facing the relatively lean ground and hair - not as afro like as before once it acclimatized to the change in temperature between France and Japan, but still too puffy in her opinion - formed a thin curtain separating her from the outside world. Her sore muscles burned with pain. She had never needed to run. Back in her mansion, definitely not. Her maids and servants had been her horses. Back in the orphanage, most certainty.
But she had never expected the wonderful world beyond the orphanage to be this dangerous. Why? She thought she was safe. She thought that once she had ran away from the dreaded place, all would be fine.
So why? Was it because she was a foreigner? Was it because she had spoken the truth, quoted from a book that it was ther home country - Japan that had ignited a war that resulted in the gruesome, sickening deaths of millions? Was she wrong?
Why?
How could people be so - so blatantly ignorant of the truth?
How could they be so blind?
It was the truth after all. The truth never hurt anyone, right? Wasn't she supposed to be rewarded and praised as a good girl for having told the truth, rather than gone along with their lies?
Her eyes slid downwards and traced the jagged uneven edged of her sliced hair witch now rested at her ears.
Her mind recalled the pain, of meaty hands grabbing at her beautiful, poor hair and lifting her up into the air. Her dry throat remembered her hoarse screams that accompanied her fierce kicking and struggling.
Her skin stung and remembered the chops of the knife that missed her hair and slit her pale flesh at the nape of her neck.
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Her wide, terrified so obviously foreign blue eyes stared back at his hazy black ones.
'shhing,' one last careless, windmill movement of the kitchen knife sliced through, and she fell to the ground, legs sprawled. His hands loosened. A bundle of platinum blond that was grasped by his hands scattered around her like cruel, silver needles of snow. Glimmering, the twisted and danced in the air, illuminated by the dim bar light. She was too stupefied to move. Too numb and frozen. A chorus of rowdy laugher resounded around her as they clapped in vicious delight at the display.
"Yeah! You show that nosy foreigner who's boss!" One hooted.
"Fucking stupid girl. Who does she think she is?"
"What an idiot."
"So pathetic.""Get out," the inebriated barkeep said gruffly.
She scrambled up and ran, ran, ran away from the fear, the jeers, as her hysterical tears that hadn't appeared for years rolled down her cheeks with an odd cold comfort. Until she reached the end of the road and collapsed against the brick wall.
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Telling the truth only resulted in her almost dying. So she would tell safe, lies. Lies, lies, lies.
"These webs are what weave this world together, aren't they?" She laughed. No one in the neighbourhood answered, bar the ubiquitous cheerful chirping of the summer cicadas.
No one would be hurt by a lie. So it would be better to tell lies. But police investigations would be obstructed by a lie. People would get lost if the street signs lied. But the truth was dangerous. But which was more dangerous? A truth, or a lie? She couldn't decide. She felt so utterly lost and confused. Her vision began to blur and the liquid, the crimson beads, dripping down - was... was it blood? - abruptly came into sharp definition before her vision was plunged into darkness.
A/N: So naïve. What will happen next? Will Charlene be kidnapped by a hobo? Will she ever find L? Find out in the next installment. Bye, and review please. Tell me what you think.
Ano, Sumimasen ga, raiburari ni wa, L Lawliet-jō no nin'i no jōhō o motte imasu ka = Um, I'm sorry, does the library have any books on L Lawliet?
Mōshiwakearimasenga, watashitachiha izureka o motteinai = Sorry, we do not have any.