Disclaimer Ruba'i:
Whose story this is I quite obviously know,
And thus claim no credit or money. Although
Sunrise will not care about what I've produced,
Those folks will still own what I've written below.
That day was a busy one on Eastgate Road – the debris of humanity mixed freely with tradesmen and gentry as all travelled that convenient thoroughfare. The clattering of heavy carts, the cries of optimistic vendors, and the chattering of pedestrians, could clearly be heard inside the fine old houses which lined the street.
Natsuki Kruger spent the remainder of that long and sunny day listening to those sounds, in an agony of anticipation. That crawling, anxious, feeling was by now routine. What was more unusual, and what held Natsuki on the edge of action all day, was that Shizuru Viola – normally so cool and collected - was also visibly unsettled.
It was terribly dreary inside that old house; teasing, empty, shadows danced all through the deserted rooms, stretching tired nerves to the breaking-point. A restless Natsuki reacted by patrolling constantly, scrutinising every security arrangement. The movement helped her relax. Shizuru, by contrast, stayed in the kitchen near the kettle, but also tended to appear near Natsuki, frequently at odd moments. Sometimes these moments were long enough for the duo to exchange a few words, but oftentimes Shizuru appeared only fleetingly, as if just seeing her young friend soothed some nameless worry.
Every visitor that arrived at the heavy front door was greeted with grim suspicion. Natsuki simply refused to let any person into the hallway until a combination of blunt questioning and physical searching had proven them to be harmless. Lunch-time came, almost disappointingly, without the slightest hint of trouble. Over that quick and hurried lunch, Shizuru was even more silent than normal, and if her dusky eyes brushed over Natsuki more frequently than might be usual – well, it could be forgiven. The tension had ruffled Natsuki also, and caused her food to settle uneasily in her stomach. It was almost a relief to escape the warm kitchen to resume her restive watch.
It was nearly two in the afternoon, when, whilst engaged in re-shoring up the coal-flue in the cellar, Natsuki felt a cold rush of air at her back. She turned sharply, snuffing her candle instantly and ducking sideways.
"Show yourself!" Natsuki growled, her ears straining for sounds of movement.
The gentle footsteps stopped their fall. The slow swish of skirts stilled. The very darkness seemed to draw breath, waiting.
"My - Natsuki is watchful," came that familiar, lilting voice.
The younger let her hackles fall, mastering ragged breathing. "Shizuru! – you gave me a fright!"
Another candle was lit. Through the dim coolness, vibrant green eyes met dusky red, reminding Natsuki of one very important thing.
We both seek reassurance from the other.
She is afraid.
Natsuki coughed to cover her awkwardness.
"How are you holding up, Shizuru?"
Flickering light played gently across the empty barrels of the wine-cellar, sinking into the darkness of the spaces between. Shizuru held the candle-stick in both hands, fingers wrapped around it as if seeking warmth.
"My - Natsuki should not be concerned about me." Shizuru said, walking forward. Her tone was open and airy, at odds with the stress her perfect posture could not hide. Shizuru's face was so serene that even an unobservant onlooker would have suspected deception.
Natsuki threw her a tight smile. "Well, your Natsuki is concerned anyway. You're holding up alright?"
Shizuru paused. She tilted her head sideways slightly, and then bit her lip. "I…" Another silence fell, and Shizuru's eyes focused on a vision only she could see. She paused again. "I am very much afraid I have put Natsuki in danger."
That same untroubled tone was even less convincing to Natsuki when used for a second time.
The younger woman turned away from Shizuru to continue her work securing the flue. A few lumps of coal were carelessly kicked out of the way, raising dust.
"We went over this before, Shizuru." Natsuki said impatiently, waving one grimy hand, intent on her work. "I'm not leaving you. That's final." She dusted off her hands and turned back to her friend.
Shizuru had closed her eyes, and in that dimness her mask slipped slightly to reveal traces of fear. "One is not like the other!" she cried in pure anguish, causing Natsuki to jolt. "My uncle may be a foolish, gambling… but the… the second person is not! Natsuki must be on her guard today. She will be the target. She must be the target, there is no… do not answer the door without me! "
Shizuru locked eyes with Natsuki, her eyes tormented. "Please. Please. Natsuki is very… Natsuki is very dear to me, and if she… if she was to..."
Shizuru turned her face away, her voice trailing off into a charged silence.
The mark of this impassioned plea stood frozen for an instant in complete astonishment, before lucidity returned. Natsuki leapt over the small coal-pile and rushed to Shizuru's side, hesitating only briefly before enfolding her friend in a warm hug. "If that's what you want, Shizuru." She said softly. "I won't answer the door without you."
Shizuru's reply was to bury her face in Natsuki's shoulder. "Thank you. Thank you."
When Shizuru returned to the kitchen this time, Natsuki went with her.
At four o'clock on the dot, a knocking alerted the two women to the presence of two men at their doorstep; one was heavily-built policeman with his helmet off respectfully, and the other was a sharp-faced lawyer holding a leather briefcase. These two gentlemen were slightly startled by Natsuki's suspicious growling, but luckily the cause of this – Shizuru's proximity to the door (and thus potential danger) – was also the solution, on-hand as she was to rescue them. Tea was soon served for their benefit in the drawing room.
It transpired that these two men had come in the hope of asking further questions about the attack in the street, and to ensure the accuracy of information collected at the scene. In return, sympathetically, they confirmed that Edward Clyde had been arrested earlier that day. A casual observer would have been forgiven for believing Shizuru was only gently regretful at this news, but the rapidity with which her tea disappeared might have provided a clue that she was more disquieted than she appeared.
It was nearing five, the winter sun settling low on the hidden horizon, when a second knock was heard on the front door. Natsuki, restless and territorial, was not in the least bit pleased to be waved back onto her window seat by the policeman. The Peeler clearly intended to send the newcomer away with the weight of his official authority, and then resume his interview without bothering his subject.
Natsuki let the dying sunlight warm the curves of her face, before standing up from the seat to pace a little. The heavy footfalls of the Bobby receded down the corridor and stopped, to be replaced by the barely audible sound of the door being opened. Muffled voices came from the corridor, the deep bass of the policeman echoing clearly, contrasted against the complete inaudibility of the visitor. Natsuki's edgy gaze travelled over the room to her companion. Shizuru had been drawn into a conversation with the lawyer, her face calm; the tranquillity of still water.
Still waters run deep.
The creak of the drawing-room door announced the return of that fine policeman, but he wasn't the figure that entered the drawing-room first. A slight shape scurried in ahead of him; a mousy, drab one; carrying a worn-looking handbag. This figure paused, giving each person in the room a frightened, anxious look. It was Aunt Mitsuko.
Natsuki, now leaning idly against the wall, looked up from contemplating her friend. Her surprise was palpable. "Shizu… what are you…?"
At the incoherent words, those red eyes swivelled round to land on Natsuki, familiar eyes in the face of a stranger. Those eyes lent a lie to that mask of fearfulness. They were utterly cold and devoid of emotion.
"You." That sweet voice was bland. "My husband was arrested today because of you."
Natsuki blinked in surprise, pushing off from the wall. "What the… wait!"
Mitsuko began to advance, every step quick, light, and perfectly grounded. Dangerous.
From across the room, Shizuru cried out something desperate, but Natsuki had no attention to spare - she began quickly to back away, raising her hands, desperately attempting reason. "Wait! Wait! He sent some heavies to attack me! Don't you think that's a little…"
Without a single word or cry, Mitsuko Clyde attacked. Faster than the eye could track, Natsuki's centre was flicked out from under her, sending her sprawling flat on her back. Without a single change in expression, the slender aunt swung her handbag like an oddly shaped club, bringing it down into Natsuki's torso with some force. There was a ghastly crunching noise, and our heroine howled in pain – the bag was clearly weighted; the effort Mitsuko needed to raise it up again only served to prove it. What saved Natsuki from the second powerful blow was luck; the young woman instinctively flinched away from her assailant, and the bag glanced painfully from her side to slam into the wooden floor. As Mitsuko raised her weapon for a third blow, Natsuki desperately rolled out of the way, escaping at the expense of a surprisingly brutal kick.
Through the faint ringing in her ears, she heard the policeman yell something in his deep bass voice. This worthy had apparently rushed forward as soon as the assault had begun, grabbing the aunt's frail shoulder in an attempt to restrain her. But Mitsuko had been underestimated again - the Bobby was quickly bloodied with a powerful palm-strike to the face, and sent ignominiously staggering away. The policeman's efforts were not in vain, however. He gained Mitsuko's victim precious time. Gasping for air, her chest on fire with pain, Natsuki scrambled to her feet and clawed at the mantelpiece. The Aunt turned to look at her, her face expressionless. The lawyer was saying something low and coaxing, which was universally ignored. Natuski was far too busy wondering how to ensure Shizuru remained safe to have any attention for a wordsmith attempting reason with a madman.
Mitsuko dropped the handbag, still with that terrifying lack of expression. With her right hand, she reached into her wide sleeve, and removed a large-calibre revolver, pointing it at Natsuki's head. All eyes swivelled to the gun, transfixed. Although the grip wasn't perfect, it was firm, and the set of Mitsuko's posture betrayed no hesitation.
Natsuki, for the first time, was afraid.
This brief flash of fear was about the same length of time it took for the last person in the room to take action. A flash of chestnut hair, and suddenly a tall figure stood between Natsuki and death. Shizuru held her arms relaxed by her side, facing the pistol with complete composure, as if murderous relatives with handguns were an everyday occurrence.
"Aunt Mitsuko."
The firearm tracked ever-so-slightly away from Natsuki, settling unwaveringly on a point roughly level with Shizuru's breastbone.
Natsuki snarled to herself. Threaten Shizuru will you?
With admirable stealth, the younger girl began to edge along the wall, ignoring the pain from broken ribs. The two Viola's attention was fixed on the other, and the men were fixed on the gun; the only notice taken of Natsuki was by the great glass mirror above the mantelpiece. Slowly, carefully, Natsuki moved out from behind the shield of Shizuru's body. The handgun did not falter.
The last rays of the sun lit the scene – a battered, injured Natuski; a furious, frozen policeman; a dumbstruck lawyer clutching a briefcase; and finally two women, superficially alike, facing each other over a bare wooden floor.
AN: Bunnyjoker. Black Mephistopheles. Thank you.
Also: Ruba'i are awesome. Go look some up; they're pure gold.
OUTTAKE: Courtesy of BunnyJoker, and also dedicated to that reviewer.
Ghost floats in, moaning softly, and dragging chains along the floor. Natsuki rushes out into the corridor with her trusty poker.
Natsuki: "Why are you here, ghost! State your purpose!"
The ghost says nothing, but instead simply drags herself closer. She steps right up in front of a surprised Natsuki, grabs her, and begins throttle her.
Ghost: ((raging)) "You dip****! That thing Shizuru said at the end of last chapter? That was a confession! In other words, moron, she wants in your pants! What are you DOING not getting laid by this person that you are obviously attracted to?
Natsuki: ((makes a surprised noise through the strangling)) "Wha… really?"
Shizuru and the ghost both facefault.
Natsuki recovers, drops the poker, and pounces on Shizuru whilst she's down.
Crosswood comes racing in.
Crosswood: "NOOOO! Get out! Get out of here with your obviously dirtier than k+ thoughts! OUT!"
The author charges with a bucket of ice-water, only to have the ghost crash-tackle her. After a brief struggle, during which the author gets a bucket of ice-water in the face, our ghost drags her away. It is doubtful the two young ladies on the floor either notice, or (at this point) care. The narrator decides that prudence is the better part of valour and begins a discreet fade out…