Chapter 7: The Memorial Service
It was two months later, near the end of summer, when they all met at the Hikawa shrine. The Shinto shrine was at the top of a tall hill. It was old, and classic in its design. It seemed the best place for a memorial service for Ichigo.
For they had finally given up; they had to face the sad reality that Ichigo was dead. If she had been kidnapped, by that time they would have heard something. If she had run away from home, by that time she would have sent some word. She loved her parents, not to mention Aoyama, and would not hurt them so, to run away and not give them some word that she was all right. If she had been injured, and maybe lost her memory, she would have turned up, somewhere, somehow. But there had been not one word, not one sign of any kind. And so they knew: Ichigo was dead.
They were all there: Ichigo's parents, their eyes red from too many tears shed for too long. Her best friends from school were there: Moe and Miwa, silent and subdued, it seemed, for the first time in their lives. They had learned the hard way how short the "forever" of "best friends forever" could be. And all those from Café Mew Mew came. There were Keiichiro and Ryou, who bore a double burden, for they not only felt the pain of loss, but the pain of guilt: if they had not taken Ichigo as a Mew Mew, she surely would be alive still, a carefree teenager with no greater worries than her next date and next algebra test. And there were all the Mew Mews: Mint and Lettuce, Pudding and Zakuro, and Berry, each with her own thoughts and her own pain.
They lit candles in her memory, and then they spoke, saying nice things about her, as is done at such memorials. Her mother through her tears spoke of Ichigo's courage and strength from the very first day of her life, how the very-prematurely-born Ichigo had fought for life from her first breath, and had defeated death, that time; but her father could not speak, for his grief was too heavy. Then Miwa spoke, for herself and for Moe, about how Ichigo could always make them smile and laugh, even when no one else could. And then Keiichiro; and he spoke softly about Ichigo's kind foolishness, and her undying faithfulness to what she believed in and those she loved. But Ryou hung his head, burdened by guilt, and said nothing.
Then Zakuro spoke. Zakuro rarely showed emotions, and never shed tears. But this day, they flowed freely. And she told of how she had had such a sad, neglected childhood, and had learned to love and trust no one in this world, save herself; but then she had met the girls at Café Mew Mew, and they had taught her heart to love. Especially Ichigo; it was the red-haired girl who had taught her heart so much of what love was. Then her voice choked up, and she could say no more; and she wept in silence. And they all bowed their heads and wept with her; but Mint looked up, and her eyes were filled with anger. But none of the others noticed through their tears.
Pudding told them of how much fun Ichigo was, and Mint reminded them of courageous she was; though she could not speak of what Ichigo had done for the Mew Mews, with Ichigo's parents and school friends present. And Berry told them of how Ichigo had been the heart of all that happened at Café Mew Mew, and if she was lying, they did not notice. But Lettuce wept, and said nothing.
And finally Aoyama spoke, in a voice so choked that they could hardly hear. And he proclaimed his love for her, and swore that he could never love another, as long as he lived. And then he fell to his knees, and wept, and could say no more.
And then they were done; and each of them bowed to Ichigo's father, and embraced her mother, and then they walked away, each alone.
But Zakuro did not leave. She was not comfortable with this memorial service, nor with the Hikawa Shrine. She believed in One that the others did not believe in, and she closed her eyes and begged that that One would take Ichigo to himself, from wherever she lay. For she had not given up, as the others had. She had not given up on that One. And so she prayed long, on her knees, as the others walked down the hill, and scattered.
Finally Zakuro opened her eyes, and rose to leave. And then she saw that she was not alone. Far to her left, near the shrine itself, a dark-haired shrine maiden swept the path clean in silence. And nearby, to her right, Lettuce still stood at the head of the long flight of stairs that led down from the shrine. She was shaking, and crying. And Zakuro's heart filled with pity, and she forgot her own grief for a second, and walked over to the sobbing green-haired girl.
"Lettuce? Lettuce-chan?" she said softly, and the younger girl looked up slowly.
Lettuce's blue eyes met Zakuro's sapphire eyes, and searched them. And finding in those dark pools of mystery understanding and pity, Lettuce threw herself into Zakuro's arms. Her own arms embraced the tall, shapely form of the idol, and she pressed herself tightly against Zakuro's body, as if to burrow into it and hide from the world.
"There, there, dear Lettuce," Zakuro whispered. They all were heartbroken, but Zakuro was wondering why Lettuce seemed to handle it so much less well than the others. Lettuce did not answer at first, but just held ever more tightly. And then she whispered a question, and Zakuro was completely mystified by it. "Zakuro… is your word good?"
The older, taller girl looked into Lettuce's face with shock. What did that question mean? It was so insulting! Yet pity still ruled Zakuro's heart, and so she whispered back, "Lettuce, you have known me for more than two years. You know my word is good."
Lettuce stared at her in silence for a long while, trying to read the soul behind those dark eyes. Then she took a deep breath, and asked, "Zakuro, will you swear that you will never tell anyone what I'm going to tell you now?"
Zakuro had no clue as to what was going on. She feared, at least a little, that yet another of the younger Mews had developed a girl-crush on her! But pity still ruled her, and so she said, "I swear. Now Lettuce-chan, what do you want to tell me?"
And Lettuce took another deep breath, and then she took her eyes off those of the older girl and looked down before she spoke, in a gasping whisper: "Zakuro, I think... I think I might know what happened... to Ichigo."
