The Maid-sama's Close Memories
The day her mom died, she thought she would die.
But at the same time, she wanted to live.
The turbulence that struck her seemed to take her breath away. She would rather Takumi leave her a thousand times than to experience that pain of her flesh and blood being cut away by some worthless drunk.
Funny, Takumi left her drinking too.
Alcohol…
What was so good about it?
She hated it.
The man was a typical eighteen-year-old boy who just left high school; she was two years older than him when it happened. It was summer vacation; he had been accepted into a good university quite a distance away from home. As a result, he ended up drinking with his friends while his parents were not home and taking his dad's car out for camping at the beach.
He didn't have a license.
He was barely a ten-minute drive from home when he ran over the woman carrying some bags after returning home after a long day at work.
Misaki's mother, to be specific.
She was either extremely lucky that Igarashi was beside her, or she was extremely unlucky, she was not quite sure which.
Maybe it was shock that spun her first, or pain. Misaki didn't know which one hit dock.
She could not feel a single thing; her dry eyes and mouth hang open as she pressed the phone back onto its seat. She grabbed Tora's kitchen chain and threw it across the room as adrenaline completely over took her. The chair smashed into her wall with a loud crash and knocked over the lamp, where it crashed on the kitchen floor in an ear-splitting high noise.
Her body could no longer be hers, because the pain was too far away from her, her eyes and clammy hands could not be her own, for they were in another's control. The heart-wrenching scream could not be from her throat; nothing could make such a tortuous noise.
That's right, Misaki must not be there anymore, it must be someone else that was in her body. Must be someone else screaming the ceiling down as Igarashi tried to calm her down. Must be anything but reality.
Because Misaki must have already died. Her world had already collapsed, taking down with it Misaki. Everything stopped.
So why is the clock on the wall still running?
By the time she finally laid down on the sofa, Igarashi had already ordered a private jet to send her back home immediately.
So she lay, once again, not quite broken, not quite together, she was… simply gone. Separated her mind from her body as she drifted away, allowing her mind to remain blind. Nevertheless, she was still there, the pain teared through her body again and again, burning her with that fierce fire that she could do nothing about but to wait for it to end, hope for it to end.
Though it never ended.
The dull pain that she must carry, never really left.
Never once had she thought she would want to hurt someone so passionately. She wanted to tear him from limb to limb, to dissect him, to make him feel every ounce of pain that he inflicted on her family.
She wanted him to die, but death seemed too easy and much too painless.
Then, she didn't want anything to do with anymore, she craved to forget. It was Igarashi, and Igarashi again that pulled her out. He, who tended to her day after day. He, who tried to bring the smile back onto her face and the pain out of her eyes.
Yet, she also thirsted for him, for Takumi.
Not because she liked him more than she like Igarashi, but simply because she missed him.
That's right, she never did stop missing him. Day in and day out, he was always with her in her subconscious mind.
She hated him.
Really, really did, or at least, that's what she told herself.
(*)
Drowsily, she found himself covered warmly in an unfamiliar bed.
Where am I?
She reached out and grabbed her purse from the table beside her and swore out loud in her hoarse voice.
50 missed calls: Igarashi
72 new messages: Igarashi
Desperately, she shook her cell phone and attempted to make a call.
"You're awake?" A voice murmured from the doorway, "if you're going to call him, I would wait a bit."
Misaki frowned, "why?"
Yesterday felt so long ago, yesterday when he pushed him out of her apartment in an outburst of fury. By now, that little bit of fire had already died.
"Because he is unreasonably angry at the moment."
Misaki's frown deepened at his grin.
"Why?"
Takumi walked towards her and pulled her cell phone out of her hands and then sat right down on the edge of the bed. Misaki could not help but move slightly to the other side.
He ignored her.
"Here, see how all his calls and texts are before two?" He began to explaining, pointing at the times on the device.
"Well you see, I called him back once." He chuckled and dodged when Misaki tried to grab her cell phone back.
"Give it back." She growled, and she attempted to get up, but fell back immediately as a surge of hangover completely overtook her.
Takumi rushed to her side and caught her by the arm.
"Are you alright? Want a bath?" Misaki shook her head.
"Wait here." He muttered in her ear after setting her back down onto the bed.
Tired but amused, Misaki fell into his rhythm. He was cooking, the sound of him doing so calmed him.
Takumi had a very organized cooking sound, like most chefs, but he was even more predictable. His chopping consisted of three quick chops and one slower chop. Misaki hummed to it, though she caught herself and pouted in anger to herself as Takumi returned with porridge and a glass of strawberry juice.
She sighed and took a sip of the porridge and felt her spine shiver.
They fell into step so easily, so normally.
And Takumi's cooking was as good as ever.
"Get up." He forcefully pulled her up after setting the tray on the bedside table and proceeded to sniffing her clothes.
"Eek!" She pushed him away, "What are you doing!"
Takumi pushed himself up and jerked his head to a door, "go take a bath, you stink."
Humiliated and confused at the exhaustion from the night before and the events of the morning, she pulled herself up from the bed and proceeded as ordered, allowing Takumi to assist her on her unsteady feet.
"You can drink quite a bit, I'm surprised." He commented as he braided his hand under her arms and balanced her to lean on him.
"It's demanded of me." Takumi's eyes shifted to her head, the loneliness in her voice stole his attention. Though he said no more after setting her in the laundry room.
"Leave your clothes here, and go through that door, I already filled the tub."
She nodded at his curtness.
"Or would you like me to stay?"
She wanted to punch him.
After shoving the perverted outer space alien out the door, she allowed her clothes to slip off her and left them folded on the counter top before stepping into his bath. The hot steamed air bathed over her, leaving her drowsy and filled in his scent. Moments after, she heard Takumi coming into the laundry room briefly and leaving again, no doubt with her clothes.
She missed this about him. Takumi always knew exactly what she needed without her bothering to say a word. It was that weird, bizarre connections they had that tied them together.
Slowly, she felt herself drifting away as she set herself in the hot bath. The drowsiness was taking over…
Mom… mom… where are you?
Why did you leave me, mom?
Where should I go? How can I see you again?
Mom…
"Are you done yet?" The voice woke her immediately, Misaki looked around and grabbed the large towel as she rose from the large bathtub.
She felt light-headed and thoroughly breathless as she draped the towel over her head, it fell to the floor and covered her.
It smelled like him.
No good.
The image of Igarashi's face blurred her memory as she flushed at the innocent hug they shared before she departed.
"Usui… give me my cell phone, I want to go home."
(*)
When her mom died, she was so fragile, so breakable.
Igarashi's hand suspended in midair, not knowing if he should touch her frozen cheek or gloss over her dark hair, her quivering lip or shaky breath.
Though the thing that disturbed him the most was her glassy gaze.
Void of everything but pain.
If he could take away her pain, he was prepared to do anything. That was how he felt. If he could close her eyes and bring warmth back into her, he would not care what he would have to do. He missed her smile, just when he thought she had finally cheered up, something else digs into her.
The poor, poor girl.
So in the end, he did nothing but simply stare at her, like he always did. He was so useless. She had the power to make him feel so weak, so powerless, when she needed someone strong enough to take the blow of the storm for her.
"Just cry…" he whispered to her, all the chairs in his dining room was destroyed, including a window and a lamps and various other things.
He couldn't care less.
"Just cry Misaki, just cry." The soft murmur of her name seemed to have reached her, since she flung herself into his arms and grabbed him in such a painful way that Tora had to spend several moments to catch his breath again.
She screamed incoherently and shrilly into his ear. She teared into his flesh, so that for several days, his arms were covered in a pair of bruises.
He couldn't care less.
He tried to think of something to say to her, though anyone who knew him, even just a bit under the perfect mask he wore would know that he was no good at this. So he simply held her until her tears ran dry, and her voice was hoarse, until he too, had tear tracks stained into her clothes.
It was sad to think that all he could do was to lend her a shoulder to cry.
"You need to be with your family." He finally said as he lifted them both off the floor feebly, pain stabbing at his back and lack of strength in his numb legs.
"Let's go." The walk to the waiting private jet was not long, neither was it long for Misaki to arrive in the arms of her weather-doll like sister and broken father.
"Your mother… she would rather be sent off with a smile rather than that crying face." The older man patted their heads, his own tears barely kept at bay.
"And you…" he addressed Tora, who looked up immediately with a slight bow, "thank you… for taking care of her."
The older man's tortured smile brought Tora a new wave of pain.
Never would he ever let Misaki show that face, he vowed.
Ever.
Just wondering, who do you think Misaki should end up with?