'We have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression is our lives' – Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
Ohayo, rooftop-san. We meet again.
On a rare day that both Charlotte and I do not have any club activities, we decide to meet after school. The sky is falling light snow to our head, as winter chases autumn away. It has started snowing a few days ago, and from the top of the building I can see the tops of many houses in the area are painted in white. As I raise my head to the sky and watch the droplets fall, I notice Charlotte is exceptionally quiet today. Usually she'll start a random conversation or make a descriptive observation that somehow infuriates me playfully. Yet, the stillness is not uncomfortable. I feel like after getting closer over to each other over these two months we are capable of staying in the same room in complete silence, as the mere presence of each other gives us enough reassurance of tranquillity.
Yet that does not mean I am not worried over her beings. I asked her this morning that I wanted to talk. As she agreed, I noticed something different about her today. Right now as she stands next to me she looks gloomier than usual. Putting on a long grey scarf over her neck, she has her hands in her brown coat's pocket. She looks around the city aimlessly as if trying to find something interesting to spot on. What makes her that blue today?
'So what do you want to talk about?'
Her violet orbs beam in a swift change of emotion which surprises me. Along with her warm smile, she looks just like the normal Charlotte Dunois that everyone encounters in school every day.
'Where is the ring?' she grins, bending her upper body part to look at me expectantly. 'It's okay if you don't have it though. I'll still accept your love if you just say it,' she teases, swinging her arms in perfect circle freely.
Yeah, yeah. I'm saving money for the perfect ring for you, you know.
She snickers. I sense there is something more to that laugh, as if a mild sadness lies in that. When I asked this morning she joked that I must be preparing to propose to her with the most expensive and beautiful ring that I had just somehow managed to find, just for her. Typical Charlotte. Never failing to find a chance to treat me as her personal toy. Right now my attention, though, is on somewhere else.
'What's with your forehead?'
'Oh,' she blinks awkwardly and hides the white adhesive tape above her right eye, adjusting her bangs to cover it, 'it's nothing. I just accidentally fell last night, that's all.' She gives me a reassuring smile to confirm that she is fine.
Liar.
That has to be a lie, but I figure if Charlotte wants to hide something from me, she must have her reason.
'Rather, what do you want to talk about?' she turns away from my glance, 'you seldom initiate to talk, Ichika. Is this about Shinonono-san?'
Charlotte one, Ichika nil. I am startled. Did she read my mind? Or is it that I am just too easy to read?
'Did she say something about us?'
Not exactly, but close. I guess she is a good mind-reader after all, just like Chifuyu-nee is. I guess women are all good at reading men's mind genetically so as to detect if an affair has taken place. Genetics.
'I guess right, huh?' her eyebrows twist a little, and her eyebrows sadden. She casually take off some snow from her blond hair and leans on the fences in a relaxed manner. 'Isn't that good though, that you finally will confess to her after she gets jealous like this?'
It's not like that, Charlotte, but I somehow cannot get myself to tell her that. I have a feeling if I say so, our relationship – the closeness that Charlotte and I share for the past two months – will be ruined. And I don't want that to happen.
'I'm envious though, you know,' her voice turns dimmer that I am not sure if she's whispering to me or to herself, 'being in love makes one glow. Two people who go to school together, discuss where to go after school, meet together on a weekend, do ecchi things at night and then still smile at each other on the next day…
'It's too charming. It's too bright. It's too beautiful.' Her eyes are closed now as she mutters the last statement. I am at a loss of words. Is that what she thinks love is? Is that what she longs for? Is that what she…longs for?
'Why are you still here, Ichika? She sighs, 'I should not be the one you're seeing now.'
Stop it, please. Stop it.
If she turns around, she may find me struggling to stop my lacrimal glands' functions. My body is shaking. I feel an urge to bark at her, to defy what she has said. Her quietness further enrages my mind.
Why are you saying that?, I growl. Why are you acting like that?
No response, still that smile. The smile. One sad smile that breaks my heart.
Are you toying with me? Are you satisfied with that? Is that what you–
'It's not that,' there she faces me with her head turned, violet eyes gazing at mine, 'but it's because Ichika is not interested in me.'
My consciousness freezes.
'When I say I like you, I mean it.' It is not a typical Dunois-prank. It is not any humorous attempt to tease me. Her fleshy blush on her pale skin confirms that. She is looking at me with her most sincere face. It is not a serious or a flat face. It is a real one. This is the real Charlotte Dunois talking to me now, the one who she has been hiding from at times.
I just stand with my jaws parted. Staring at her truthful eyes does not help at all.
I have thought that my answer is ready. I have thought that I have made up my mind. Logic is not functioning well anymore. There is no logic in such matter. Descartes is wrong. It's all about senses. It's all about feelings. It's all about perceptions. It's all about instincts. You can't think too much and let go of your chance. You can't escape. You have to act. You have to initiate. Nothing waits. Nothing lasts. Nothing will begin.
'Ichika…is really different from other boys…I think you know that, right?' she slowly unties her scarf and removes her coat, letting them drop under gravity. She still wears that melancholy smile on her face, which strikes my sense again. I just keep staring at she unbuttons her uniform, not having the slightest idea what I should do in such situation.
'Father is like that. Uncle is like that. It really troubles me a lot.'
I stare, hard, as she unbuttons her uniform, revealing what is underneath to me.
'All kinds of people, all kinds of thoughts…I know a lot about them. I know what it means to have someone in your mind.'
She is exposing her bare white brassiere to me as her skirt drops a bit, disclosing her white underwear. I'll be killed by the whole male population of the school if they know Charlotte Dunois is standing in front of me with bare uniform on, showing her great figure and perfect skin to me without a care.
What attracts my attention instead is the marks on her neck, waist and thigh. Those dark purple spots that nauseate me. Several more white adhesive tapes are glued to her slim waist.
'The me in this condition…I never reckon I still can have someone lingering in my mind. I never thought about that.'
I gulp. The inappropriate bruises on her skin look like a curse that will haunt me. Her eyes…have become so soft, so tender, so miserable, that shame runs through my veins. The red spots and her milky skins do not match each other at all. I have been near her for the past couple of months but we are so far apart. Has she not mentioned her step-father and uncle I would have thought she got those bruises from her clients. Knowing that they're from people she is bound to be close to certainly darkens my mood even more. I barely know my relatives who do not care much about us since my parents passed away long ago, but causing pain to another is another story. Now I know why she wears long pants for her tennis training.
My mind floats to different dimensions. Various imaginary pictures of how she got those bruises occupy my mind. I could hear her screaming in pain, begging for mercy in vain, while the other person continued to entertain himself, looking amused at her dolorous countenance with a mischievous grin hanging on his brutal face. I mentally wail, crushing my eyelids together forcefully in attempt to remove such images from my mind. Charlotte's expression just sours as my internal struggles intensify.
'Hey Ichika,' I look up to face her, only to find her eyes closed in a relaxed state. She seems relieved to have let her secret out, as her shoulders are not as tense as a few minutes ago. In her bare exposure, she shows no signs of intimidation or shame. Shame is never on her side. Her gestures tell me that she is still genuine, and hopes to break her façade. 'Just once…just once is enough. Will you hold me?
'Even if it's out of total compassion it'll still be alright…I'll be happy still,' then she smiles again. It isn't the typical Dunois-style grin. Just a tiny, sheepish one. The one that I grow fond of. The one that I adore. The one that I dream about at night.
It is pure. It is sincere. It is too bright.
I tremble and refuse to look at her.
How can I?
It's not that her presence disgusts or threatens me. I just feel worthless and helpless. She has wanted someone to lean on for the whole time, but I have not been there for her. I did not give her a shoulder. I did not give her comfort. All I have done is laugh while she weeps.
She remains there, looking at me with a forlorn glint of desperation glowing in her violet eyes. I release my breath and feel very uncomfortable, as the rooftop becomes foggy to my sight. I no longer have the strength to support my will, and I make a cruel call.
The next day, Charlotte is gone.
The day after, she is nowhere to be found.
A week has past, and no one has seen her at all.
End of Part III
Writing something based on other's work seems more challenging than I thought, as at times I wonder if I should change its content and add my own interpretations or follow the work strictly. Striving for a balance between the two is hard yet fun to do so. As I read the Chinese version of the doujin, it's also hard to translate some of the beautiful phrases the author used to English and keep the same meaning. Further, using first-person narrative restricts my usage of words a lot too, as I'm not familiar with this writing style. However, that is also a challenge I made for myself, prior to posting this fic here, to explore more on this kind of writing style, so please bear with me if you find it odd.
As some of you might have noticed already, the next chapter will be the last. I'm still wondering if I should give this a happy ending or a sad one, as I labelled it as 'tragedy' at first. The doujin follows the latter (kind of), but I'm not sure if that's what I want to do. I'll be glad to hear from you to see what you think. Most of the things will be explained in next chapter, as I prefer leaving implication than stating things clearly.
Also, I've received messages from readers asking where they can read the original doujin. If you're interested you can copy the title of the story, 'せめて、あの雪のように', in youtube and you should be able to find it. It's translated in Chinese but you can get the approximate idea of its content. The background music that accompanies it is also nice, so check out the J-rock band Back Horn if you like.
I hope you enjoy reading this chapter too and please kindly review and let me know what you think. Also, please stay tuned to the last chapter!