Disclaimer : I do not own Tokyo Mew mew.
Naomi
Zakuro came back home quite late this evening. She had been working at the Café until three pm, then she had to go to a photo shoot for the rest of the afternoon. Needless to say, she felt kinda tired.
Her appartment was on the second floor. It was spacious, and decorated with good taste. The furniture was ancient – more precisely Victorian style. The whole place was very clean and there was a sweet perfume of roses in the air. The modern equipment was discreet : a computer upstairs, and a television in a wood cupboard. The dominant shade of the appartment was, of course, lavender.
Zakuro put her coat on the nearest hanger and gazed upon the chest of drawers in front of the door. It was covered with piles or letters and magazines. Practically all of the letters came from fans – fascinated girls who kept telling her how cool she was, how much they wanted to be like her. There were also boys who admired her beauty and told her quite vulgar stuff. Not to mention people who insulted her and told her she was nothing but a bitch...
Due to her work, Zakuro very rarely answered to her fan mail.
And tonight, it was the last thing on her mind.
Zakuro walked to the silent living room and sat down on an armchair.
She hadn´t see it coming.
The news had really been a complete shock.
A heart attack...
But, to be honest, the cause of his death wasn´t surprising.
Zakuro had, in truth, spent very little time with her stepfather, despite her mother´s efforts. She had barely spoken more than two words to him. But she had seen clearly which type of man he was : hard, quick, all devoted to his firm, obsessed with his work. This kind of men usually went to far. They overworked.
How many times had Zakuro wondered why Kana had left her dad for this man... this cold, rigid, silent man...
She bit her lip.
Yes, why ?
Fujiwara Haruki was the exact opposite of Denjirô.
"Hello Zakuro...
"Father !
The little girl jumped happily in Haruki´s arms, and laughed as he kissed the tip of her nose.
"My little princess... how was your day ?"
Zakuro closed her eyes. Father...
"His widow, Ishii Kana-san, was too distressed to answer our questions..."
She remembered what the newspaper said. Kana wasn´t well.
She was probably alone, in tears, wondering why Denjirô was dead, just like Haruki. Wondering why the men she loved kept leaving her.
It was her fault, Zakuro thought angrily. It´s her fault if Father is dead.
"You never let her a chance to explain herself.
"There is nothing to explain.
But still, she couldn´t deny that things were different.
Should she go... or stay like always, leaving her mother to her sorrow ?
She remained thoughtful.
"We´re still waiting for your return, whenever it might be..."
Mother´s day was tomorrow...
Zakuro sighed and stood up. She´d better go to sleep. Hopefully, on morning, she would be able to take a decision. Right now, she was too confused.
Walking up to the drawers, she picked mechanically the first letter she reached. She could always read it and write a short answer before sleeping. Climbing up the stairs, she looked down on the enveloppe.
The writing was feminine, hesitant, and seemed to belong to a very young girl. Zakuro frowned. Her female writers were usually teenagers. She rarely received mails from children. A bit curious, Zakuro stopped on the second floor and unfolded it.
« Dear Fujiwara-san,
My name is Nakamura Naomi-chan, and I am ten years old. I´ve always admired you a lot. Two years ago, my parents divorced. It was very difficult for me : but I managed to be strong, thanks to you. I told myself to be courageous, like you, that you wouldn´t let yourself down and face events bravely. And it worked. I live with my mom now and I feel much better. I can still see my dad too.
Thank you for everything
Naomi-chan. »
