When she opened her eyes and saw through the half-shut window that the world outside was still ill-lit, in the first moments of daybreak, Nagisa thought that she had been the first to wake, but was quickly disabused of that notion when she rolled over to the side and saw Honoka's eyes, already wide open and full of life, looking straight at her, and, beneath them, her lips in gentle smile, the best greeting Nagisa knew, the finest way to start a morning.
"Did you sleep well?" Honoka asked her, and Nagisa nodded. Only a few seconds later did she think of asking the same thing to Honoka, but the words came out a sleepy mumble. Honoka responded with a giggle, and a kiss. Nagisa then presumed that she was well, too.
Nagisa got out of bed, wanting to at least be the first to get up. She found her clothes quickly, thanks to Honoka's neatness in organizing their belongings. Atop the drawer was Reika's letter. Nagisa looked at it briefly, remembering its contents, wondering if she and Honoka would heed Reika's call to accompany her south. Nagisa hoped so. She felt uneasy, trapped inside the Phoenix Tower, Mirage's punishment for their disobedience in leaving to Trump, but Black was certain that the Rosehearted would soon reconsider. She smiled at the idea of disobeying her once again, going south in a mission that didn't have her blessing, her consent, or even her awareness. Most importantly, she rejoiced at the fact that even Cure Beauty was willing to go out on this mission without asking for Mirage's permission, which would be certainly denied. She is learning, Nagisa had told Honoka when they first read the letter, delivered to them by Ekaterina the day before, and White had agreed with a gentle nod.
When both were dressed, they picked up Mepple and Mipple, made the bed on Honoka's insistence and, once done, left, closing the door behind them. Nagisa knew what was the first thing they had to do this morning, and she sighed as she remembered the countless flights of stairs leading up to Mirage's office. It made her wonder if the first of the Rosehearted purposely chose to settle in the place of the Tower that kept them most separate from the commons.
"I don't see why you complain so much," said Mepple. The way he grinned always made Nagisa expect some terribly smug teasing, and he never failed to disappoint. "It's not such a bad ascent, ya know? You just gotta have someone carrying you, heh."
"Now listen here-"
"I don't suppose anyone would want to carry you, though," Mepple continued, but before he said more, Nagisa threatened to let go of him and toss him on the floor. That shut him up fast enough.
"How about you carry your own ass, for once?" She said.
"Now, now," said Honoka, "let's not wake up everyone with your bickering, alright?"
Nagisa felt ashamed when she realized how loud she was being. Then, she nearly laughed, remembering that there once had been a time when Honoka and Mipple would try to stop them from fighting, but now they were content to just make sure they weren't too troublesome to others. Nagisa agreed that it was for the best; most people would not understand the relationship between her and her fairy, and would say they were continuously terrible to each other, but in truth they got along pretty well, despite the harsh words they exchanged. The fact, Nagisa had to admit, is that the two of them were prickly, but understood one another pretty well.
Soon they reached the highest floor of the Phoenix Tower, and Mirage's office, its door closed. Nagisa presumed that, as she and Honoka woke rather early, they would have to wait a little bit, so she wasn't surprised. What did surprise her, though, was seeing Mr. Momoi and Namakelder by the door, chatting with one another. The two seemed pretty close, Nagisa thought, although Mr. Momoi was usually at work, tutoring the Precure in magic, and Namakelder was… Well, doing whatever it was that he did, which didn't seem like much. Mirage kept him around for information, but Nagisa never thought he was of much use.
Momoi bid them good morning and gave them an affable wave, which Nagisa was quick to return. At Verone he had been almost a celebrity, not just for his skills but for his good looks and charisma. Nagisa found it all laughable, the way all his students idolized him, but never paid it much mind. He seemed nice enough, and helpful, and that's what Nagisa valued.
"Business with Mirage?" Momoi asked, running his fingers over his own hair, as he would do almost like a compulsion, while Namakelder stared at the tip of his cane, almost unaware of Black and White.
"Yes," said Nagisa. "You too, huh?"
"It's really early, though, isn't it?" Asked Honoka.
"Namakelder and I were up all night," said Momoi, and Namakelder lifted his head slightly, to look at the girls, "and realized we had to ask a few things to Mirage, and decided that hey, since we're already up anyways, why not just hop there?"
"That explains it," said Nagisa. "I had never taken you to be someone to wake up early."
"You're right about that," he said with a lazy smirk, "and I'll be going straight to bed as soon as I'm done here."
"Mirage hasn't answered yet, though," said Momoi. "I don't even know if she's in there, but it'd be quite rude to just barge in and see if she's in bed, wouldn't it?"
"Terribly rude," said Namakelder. "Terribly, terribly. No decent person would disturb someone who's asleep."
"Ah," said Nagisa. "What if it's urgent?"
Namakelder shrugged. Momoi pointed at the door handle.
"There's no one stopping you," he said. "We were thinking of checking up on her to see if she's fine."
"A distant possibility," Namakelder said with a shrug.
"What do you mean?" Asked Nagisa. Honoka didn't seem to particularly care, so she whispered something to Mipple instead.
"Mirage doesn't get much sleep, we fear," said Momoi. "She's dedicated to her work, perhaps to a fault… It's not healthy."
"I see," said Nagisa. She decided to enter, then.
Nagisa knocked on the door, hearing a soft whimper as response. She put her finger on the doorknob, and by the time Honoka protested and said that maybe it would be better to wait, that it wasn't all that urgent anyways, Nagisa's hand was already turning, the door creaking a soft, droning whine. She grimaced, trying to look apologetic, and walked inside.
There she saw Mirage, asleep on her chair, head resting awkwardly atop her arm, dishevelled black hair cascading upon countless sheets of paper and open books. Her soft breathing made a curious rhythm. Nagisa covered her own mouth with a hand, and coughed to get Mirage's attention. She lifted her head, slowly opening her eyes, blinking intensely. As she rose, the light shining through the window behind caught her, shrouding her beneath the hazy orange of morning.
"I hope we didn't disturb," said Nagisa, knowing very well that she had, but not actually minding all that much.
"By…" She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. "No, by no means, you… I mean, sit down."
They sat as commanded, Nagisa making certain that Mepple was not on her back pocket (an embarrassingly frequent accident), and let her weight collapse on the cushioned seat. It didn't surprise her that Mirage could fall asleep on it.
"Are you alright?" Honoka asked softly. "At Verone I'd fall asleep on my desk, atop research materials and exams I had to grade, theses I'd review."
"Oh, you ought not to worry about me. I have always been capable of handling my duties, and was never late on my obligations with my students."
"Admirable," said Honoka, mouth wide with surprise. "I suppose it is easier to be so timely when you take a liberal approach to research and value opinions above facts. Besides, having few students depending on you is also convenient for that purpose."
"Cure White," said Mirage with a kindly voice, "have you come here to nurse old wounds and keep them alive and well, or do you have a purpose?"
"I do, actually," she said, looking rather content with herself. Nagisa always found that look very striking. She wondered why she was so proud, though. "I have finished organizing your files. I have taken the liberty of sorting them by time period, and further by author. I have also put each category into its own folder."
"And have you brought them with you?"
"I have left the folders with Ekaterina. All nineteen of them."
"Thank you," she said in a tone that Nagisa suspected was actually annoyed. "I'm happy to have friends I can count on. Not only the two of you, but my dear Katyusha, Lovely, Fortune, Nile, Echo, Waved, Southern Cross… Yes, it's good to have so many people I can count on. I hope you too can enjoy this comfort."
"I've always had a mind that quality triumphs over mere quantity, personally," said Honoka. Nagisa started to think that White and Mirage were speaking on a level that she did not quite understand. "Regardless, you have promised to consider a request of mine."
"Ah, yes," she said, setting her books aside. Nagisa caught a glimpse of her neat and diminutive handwriting. "I presume you mean-"
"Access to the libraries, yes," Honoka said at once. "To everyone, not just myself. The libraries of the Tower have been locked away for too long, and now is no time to keep secrets. So on behalf of everyone else, I ask you to open them."
"No."
The word lingered in the air, and Honoka kept her mouth hanging open, awkward, shreds of unsaid words festering on her tongue, coming out only as mumbled, slurred vowels. Nagisa felt uneasy.
"If you have not yet understood," Mirage said after the silence had begun to hurt, "I will put it plainly. You do not speak on behalf of anyone. This should have been clear after no one supported your candidature and I was chosen as Rosehearted, instead. Your interests are misaligned with those of others. While you two went out on an adventure - as intruders, I must note -, the Cures at the Tower and at Last Light instead focused on ensuring the survival of our Order, expansion of our safe lands, exploration and the rescue of innocents in danger, and not on trying to relive our better days," Nagisa felt the urge to get up and smack Mirage in the face, but there was something in her voice that made the notion terrifying, so Nagisa sat and listened, humiliated. "What do you expect to find in the libraries? There are no great secrets there. I've been there, I know it," she pushed a book close to Honoka with certain roughness, "take this if you want, or this one, or this, you'll learn nothing, I am hiding nothing from you. But I will not have you come here to distill to distill your vile poison and old grudges before asking for a favor I have no obligation to grant you, when there are so many other matters I must attend to, even at loss of sleep. No, I will not let you into the libraries. Is that all?"
"Yes," Honoka said meekly, with a trace of attempted but crushed defiance. When she started to get up, Mirage commanded her attention, handing her a letter, carefully sealed with a rose in scarlet wax.
"You'll be going to Last Light, I presume," said Mirage, and Nagisa nodded when Honoka didn't. "Please deliver this to Cure Princess."
"May I ask what this is , at least?" Nagisa said, expecting a refusal, but Mirage didn't deny her.
"You were with Fortune, Beauty and Dream," said Mirage. "In your report, you said you heard about," her words seemed heavy with displeasure, but not directed at them, "the Blue Rose," indeed, Mirage had not taken it well when she heard Honoka speak of it. Nagisa suspected that their role as bearers of ill news had done much to increase Mirage's animosity. "I will take measures to ensure that we will not have to be troubled by the Blue Rose in the future. I will grant it no chance to bloom. It shall be trampled while it is still a bud."
"And you need Princess for that?"
"Yes," said Mirage. "In truth, she is likely queen of the Blue Sky Kingdom at this point. I doubt her parents yet live. She, of course, does not want to accept the possibility. All the same, to have one of blood as noble as hers by our side grants immense credibility to the Red Rose in a time where credibility is beyond price. To have Princess working actively to bring down the Blue Rose will send the world the message that the Red Rose still preserves the traditions and values that have always been held dear by the Precure, that we still have our allies, that we will not change in spite of the ruin around us."
"So…" Honoka began, stretching the word. "You're using Princess as a puppet for your purposes?"
"I am making certain that we have some degree of stability as we fight to restore the power of the Red Rose. The princess of the Blue Sky Kingdom will be a powerful symbol for that, yes. You call her a puppet to make me look bad, but I call her a friend and ally, so perhaps you are the one with ill intents and a dark mind. Perhaps that is why you are so quick to assume the worst from others. Hime knows she has a part to play, and she does not run from it, just as I do not, even though my part involves hearing snappy retorts from empty-headed women who still have the minds of children who think they know all."
"I did not mean to-"
"You did, and I don't care. You cannot offend me. I suspect I cannot really offend you, either," she said, scratching an eye, "so I think we'll both be glad once you're headed south to the Bad End Kingdom."
"Y-You… What?" Asked Nagisa. "How did you-"
"Reika's letter was not sealed," said Mirage, "and I suspected she would, influenced by Cure Dream and Cure Fortune, try something reckless such as liberating Märchenland, so I asked Ekaterina to make sure to inform me of any letters. Reika has grown bold, despite the failure at Trump. She wants your assistance and advice. They admire you. You do understand that, don't you? They look up to you two, and listen to you. Please be mindful of that. As Rosehearted, I appear too distant from most Cures, so they would not come to me for guidance, and instead they'll need your help."
"We will help."
"I know you will," said Mirage, "and I ask you to lead them on a wise path. If they have their way, they will take all of Last Light to the south, leaving the village undefended."
"Reika's not a fool," said Nagisa.
"It's not a matter of her being a fool," said Mirage, "but the matter is that it's friend she's trying to save. She will need your guidance. Steer them well. They are brave and skilled, but they are still young girls whose hearts are in turmoil. Be good to them. I can't even begin to imagine how they are able to cope, how they can be so strong."
"Alright," said Honoka. She handled the letter with care, and walked away. Nagisa did the same, and looked back only once, and when she did so, she saw that Mirage was skimming a large book, without paying attention to them as they left.
Momoi and Namakelder entered, then, but Nagisa and Honoka hurried to the stairs, and began to make their way down. Nagisa's stomach made a funny sound, and Honoka clutched tighter to her hand.
"So this was a failure, huh?"
"A complete failure," Mepple added, though no one had asked his opinion.
"Not quite," said Honoka. "I can't stand Mirage, but she had a point. We can really help the girls at Last Light, can't we?"
"Yeah," said Nagisa. "If they still want to listen to the words of two have-beens."
"Now, that's a bit too harsh, isn't it?" Honoka said with the smile that Nagisa loved the most. "Let us not look down on ourselves, alright? The days of fighting will go on for long, and it will do us no good to let ourselves be defeated before doing anything."
Reika knocked insistently on Yayoi's door, but no answer came. It had been like this every morning since Reika returned with the news that Akane was lost, and Yayoi showed little sign of getting better. Her mood would always improve as the day passed and she was surrounded by friends, but until then, while she was still abed, shut in her bedroom, she would let silence and sorrow smother her.
"Yayoi?" Reika called her name, gently. "Are you alright?" There was no answer. "I'm coming in, okay?"
Yayoi gave no sign if she was alright with it or not. Reika opened the door, and stepped into the dark bedroom, windows locked shut. She nearly tripped on something she could not see. She walked up to the windows, opening them, but even that drew no reaction from Yayoi. She hid beneath her blankets, silent.
Reika took a look around. Yayoi's bedroom was plain, furnished only by her bed, a chair and a table she used to draw. She had not accepted any of Hosshiwa's gifts, as most of Last Light had. Even Reika had not refused, taking a small snow globe that enclosed a minuscule castle. It reminded her of Fabelpfalz, though of course without its grandeur. Before sleeping and turning off the lights, she would stare at it with nostalgia, and, sometimes, with sadness. Somehow, she felt herself longing for that sadness.
Yayoi's table was covered by papers and pens, pencils and ink blots. It filled Reika with warmth to know that even now Yayoi had not given up on what she loved. Reika hoped it brought her any comfort, no matter how small. She took a glance at the drawings, and at once she had to look away. She felt a sudden pain when she saw that Yayoi had drawn herself by Miyuki's side, with Akane, with Nao, with Reika and Candy, even Pop. The most painful was the drawing of all of them together in a nondescript scenery of greens and whites. Reika did not look upon it long enough to say for sure, but some of the faces were stained by what she had no doubt were teardrops. Nao's face was a smudge, and Candy's was not much better.
"You're looking at it, right?" Yayoi said without rising from bed.
"Yes," said Reika. "When did you draw these?"
"The bigger one was two nights ago," she said, her words hard to comprehend, under the blanket, but Reika made an effort. "The others I drew over the week. Akane was the first."
"Ah."
"It's pathetic, isn't it?" She said, her voice clearer now. Reika looked back and could see Yayoi's face. She didn't look like she had been crying; her face was clean, composed.
"Of course it isn't," said Reika.
"I think it is," said Yayoi. "I tried to draw other things, happier things, but nothing would come out. I had to draw this, even though it made me cry," so they were teardrops after all. "It made me cry so much. I would draw when I knew you were asleep, so you would not hear me."
"Right," Reika lied. She had heard, but knew that it was better to allow Yayoi some space, and time alone. Some tears, she knew, could cleanse the heart. She had cried those, too, until she grew used to the sorrow and stopped weeping. "Did it make you feel better? To cry, I mean?"
For a second, Yayoi was silent. Slowly she lifted herself up, putting her feet on the floor, looking for her slippers, letting out a sigh.
"It didn't make me feel much at all," said Yayoi. "When I look at those drawings, I'm filled with the same sadness that drove me to painting all my friends in the first place. I don't think it'll stop hurting."
"No, never," said Reika, "but life moves on regardless of our hurt. We can't ever stop."
"I know," said Yayoi. "I want to stop, though. Akane is gone, we have no idea of where Nao may be, and Miyuki is… She's with them. We'll lose her too, if we don't act fast, and then… And then…"
Her eyes reddened. Tears fell on the wooden floor, on her own knees, on her feet. Reika let her cry, and did not interrupt.
"I don't want to go on. I don't want to get up. I get up every day, but it feels like I'm living a liar's life, pretending I'm strong, pretending I can cope. I don't wanna get out of here, Reika. Not ever. I don't want to do anything."
"Please don't say something that silly," Reika finally acted, wrapping her arms around Yayoi, touching her face on hers, feeling Yayoi's cold tears drip down her own cheek, slow, uncomfortable. "I don't want to lose you either. It's hard for all of us. I won't ask you to smile, but I must ask you to keep being strong, to keep fighting, yes, because sometimes even finding the will to keep going is a fight."
"I know," said Yayoi, her arms squeezing Reika as tight as they could. "When I lost my dad," at those words, Reika held tighter to her, too, "I was too young to even understand it, to know what I had lost. I grew up with that hole, and accepted it as part of me, because I knew nothing else. But now that I can understand… I'm so afraid. I feel so small, so hopeless."
"So do I," said Reika, though her first instinct was to tell her that there might still be a way to save Akane. She knew, however, that she could not be sure of that. To give Yayoi a hope that she herself was uncertain of, a hope so easily crushed, would be a great crime. It was one thing to cling to hope, but another to fill someone's heart with half-truths so that they would feel happy. "Will you come with me?"
"Outside?" Asked Yayoi. Reika nodded. "I always do in the end, don't I?"
"That's because you are so strong," Reika said just as Yayoi's face was beginning to redden. Yayoi took her hand, and Reika pulled her up. "Thank you, Yayoi."
"Miyuki," Yayoi spoke with sudden determination, walking up to her drawings. "We'll find her, won't we?" Reika nodded. "We can still save her, if we set out soon. We still have a chance, don't we?" Reika nodded again, and looked as Yayoi picked up the drawing of Cure Happy and took a look at it. "I want her to see this. I want her to see my feelings for her. When we meet her, I want her to know that she has not been forgotten."
"I want the same," said Reika. There were so many things she wished she had told Akane, when she was still in Trump, that she did not. And now she was gone. With Miyuki, this time, Reika swore the end would be different.
The construction of Hosshiwa's house was proceeding with astounding speed, though Yuko felt that to call it a house was an understatement so great that it was almost comical, and thought it had to be a joke, but Hosshiwa was apparently completely serious, and so after the Choiark laid down the foundations for her immense mansion that was nearly half the size of Last Light, she insisted on calling it my humble home.
The sudden appearance of the manor was so fast and unbelievable that no one dared to question it, at first thinking their eyes were simply mistaken, until everyone decided that since no one spoke a word of protest, there was probably nothing unusual about it, and so Hosshiwa's unfinished manor quickly became an ordinary part of Last Light. The Choiarks worked on it endlessly, day and night, and, oddly enough, they never made a sound, never disturbed anyone's sleep, bringing further incentive for no one to question the necessity of such a large house, almost a palace. Yuko thought it was all madness, and madder still were the people who didn't even seem to care, but sometimes she wondered if she wasn't the one who was mad.
The people of the village had been quick enough to accept Hosshiwa as one of their own, though her generous gifts were, of course, very helpful. Yuko was still skeptical of her intentions, but could not deny that the new fridges were quite useful.
She reached the manor after a few minutes of walking. Yuko always enjoyed to walk around Last Light, and did so almost all mornings, and so she was able to watch as the village changed, grew. She could see each new face, each accomplishment the Precure and the villagers had achieved. Though, granted, she had never seen a change as sudden as the appearance of Hosshiwa's manor. Usually they were slow, allowing her to ease into them.
The Choiarks greeted her with small nods as they went back to world, sawing planks and hammering nails on them, carefully, making only a muffled thud. They always stayed out of Yuko's way; in fact, they always seemed to avoid the people of Last Light, and were always apologetic when they crossed paths. It struck Yuko as a rather sad behavior, and she wished to tell them that they weren't being a bother, but she never got a chance, as they all scurried out of her way when she approached, save for the ones busy at work, whom she did not wish to interrupt.
"Oh, a visitor!" Yuko heard Hosshiwa's voice, and found her supervising a group of Choiarks, pointing at blueprints laid upon a crude wooden table. It was a bubbly voice, but it sounded forced. "I believe we've met before, when I arrived."
"We met, yes, but were not properly introduced," Yuko said. "My name is Yuko Omori."
"Well, I'm Hosshiwa. Just Hosshiwa," she said in a tone that Yuko understood as a desire for privacy. She obliged, of course. She didn't want to intrude. "It is good to meet you. Such a pity my humble home does not yet have a roof, or any furnishing, in fact, so I fear I have nothing to offer you."
"No, it's fine," said Yuko. "I only passed by to say hi, you know?"
The contents of Hosshiwa's innumerable crates smelled of an attractive newness. Yuko thought she could see a fine set of dinnerware on one of them, a crate marked Hope Kingdom. It came from far away, then, and Yuko couldn't even put a price on such a valuable thing.
"Things seem to be going well here," said Yuko, for lack of much else to say. "Big place, too."
"I was raised in houses like this, so I cannot bear to live in any other sort of place. In truth, this will be my smallest home, once it's complete," she said in a sorrowful tone, but Yuko couldn't feel much pity. "No pool, no tennis court…"
"I'm sure that's very bothersome," she said, polite. Hosshiwa sounded more than a little bit whiny. Hime had grown used to all manner of luxuries, given her status as princess of the Blue Sky Kingdom, but she had never complained about her considerable deprivations.
"You can't even imagine," she answered, and smiled. Yuko smiled back, vaguely annoyed. Then she breathed in for a long time, as she always did when she felt herself plagued by ill, unwanted thoughts. The annoyance went away.
"Will the Choiarks stay with you, once they're done building?"
"Only some," she said. "Most will return to General Oresky when their contract is fulfilled."
"Who is this General Oresky?"
"Oh, he's not a real general," Hosshiwa laughed, "he only finds it fancy to call himself that. He was forced to leave the military of the Blue Sky Kingdom a long time ago, for endangering his troops to try and finish his missions quickly, to gain all the credit. He found the Choiarks, god knows where, and has been a mercenary ever since."
"Hm," Yuko nodded. "Odd, how I never heard of that, even though I lived in the Blue Sky Kingdom."
"It was very discreet," she said, not missing a beat.
"Alright," she said. She did not approve of Oresky's methods, and much less of employing the services of someone like that. She kept her silence, so that she would not say anything too judgmental. It was hard not to. "Well, I had better get going. I just wanted to introduce myself, get to know you a little bit. I like to know everyone in Last Light."
"That is nice of you," said Hosshiwa, and for a second Yuko thought she was being condescending. "Feel free to visit me anytime. Once my house is finished, I'll be sure to host a proper reception."
"I'll look forward to it."
"Oh, you had better," she winked.
"See you, then. Perhaps you'll join us for lunch today?"
"Perhaps, perhaps," she said. "I will certainly consider the offer. I hope you too consider coming to me if you ever need anything. Or if anyone else does, for that matter."
Yuko waved goodbye and walked away, with no intention of accepting Hosshiwa's offer. She knew that most would, though. She could only hope that everyone would continue to work hard, and not simply depend on Hosshiwa. That was her greatest fear. Yuko knew that Last Light's joy and stability was flimsy, volatile.
Hosshiwa did not join them for lunch, as she never did, always preferring to eat by herself, away from everybody else. It's her loss, Yuko thought, but at the same time it saddened her to see someone standing on the outskirts, apart from everyone else. In a village where until then everyone knew each other and all were in frequent association, Hosshiwa's isolation was a wound in Last Light's status quo, perhaps a sign that the village was growing too much, that it was overreaching its boundaries and original goals. Perhaps it is only natural, she thought as she ate in unusual silence, even as everyone around her shared pleasant conversation. Perhaps I'm the one who's got the wrong outlook.
Thinking that did her no good at all, so she finished her meal quickly, without waiting for Hime and Megumi to eat theirs, and left, saying a hurried goodbye. She felt like she should take a walk.
She drifted to the edges of Last Light, near the Thornwood. Yuko did not pay much attention to where her path took her. She simply walked, trying to keep her mind at ease, to not worry. It was increasingly difficult: to her dismay, she realized that she had let months of small frustrations and anxieties swell up within her, so now even the most insignificant of concerns had been enough to leave her bereft of tranquility.
Soon she reached the road that led to the Phoenix Tower. In the distance she could just barely see the hill, but no trace of the Tower itself. She hadn't been there since…
Since the time Iona forced Hime and I to leave, and left us to die.
She hadn't felt anger in a long time, but it came back now. At once she remembered why she avoided it so much. It was poison, she could almost feel it killing her. Iona was with them, now, one of theirs. She was a troubled girl, she had her reasons. Yuko kept telling herself that, until she believed it.
She heard signs of life coming from the road, people approaching, obscured by the branches of dead trees. Yuko stepped closer to observe, and saw Ayumi and Orina, with Nile just behind them. Good news from a scouting, Yuko hoped.
"Nothing good, sadly," said Nile when Yuko approached them with questions. "We went some ways north, and found some of the monsters from Labyrinth."
"What are they doing so far from their lands?" Asked Yuko. All possible answers were things she'd rather not imagine.
"I don't know," said Nile. "But if they are close, that means we must keep careful watch in the region. Mirage has spoken about trying to set up a system of beacons for warning, and that would really come in handy, if it's feasible.
"If it's feasible," said Orina. "There are too few of us to form any sort of meaningful watch. If Labyrinth comes…"
"If worse comes to worst, we always have the Phoenix Tower," said Ayumi. "It can be our last safe haven if we need it.
"Hopefully we won't," said Yuko. "Will you be going to the Phoenix Tower, though, to warn of Labyrinth's activity?"
"We stumbled upon Ekaterina on our way, so she'll give Mirage the bad news," said Nile. "Better this way, really. We got things to do."
"The Thornwood," said Ayumi. "We'll try to cleanse it soon. Mai will help us, I hope. She used to be a caretaker of the Heart Tree, so she knows a little about purifying nature."
"Mai cannot transform, though," said Yuko. "Are you sure it'll be a wise idea to take her with you?"
"No, I'm not sure of it," said Ayumi, "but I'm usually not sure of things, anyway. She told us she'd like to go with us. The three of us can keep her safe, too, and we'll need someone with experience by our side and, well, she's the only Cure around here who's not too busy to help us."
Yuko felt a sting of guilt for knowing that she too had been too busy to scout, to help the Red Rose in a more concrete way. Still, she knew she had to stay at Last Light. Not many could cook, and even fewer could make meals for so many people. She couldn't afford to go out and fight. No, I'm fighting here, too. I can't ever forget that.
She accompanied them back to Last Light, carefully listening to their descriptions of the world, words that only served to further dishearten Yuko. Past the Phoenix Tower, the forests were still deads, the rivers still ran dry, ridges formed on the ground where there once were plains, and cities were swallowed by abysses. Desolation had covered the earth, and all the efforts of the Precure seemed to have done nothing to hinder it.
Back in the village, Yuko felt her chest gripped by unease again. She said her goodbyes to Nile, Ayumi and Orina, who would likely join the others, but Yuko wished to be alone. Tonight, she remembered, it would be Kanade and Seika's time to cook. Yuko had already done so much work, and the two girls from Majorland wanted to relieve her a little bit. In truth, Yuko loved her duty, but now she felt grateful for their offer. Now she wanted only to weep, but one like her could never weep, she who was always happy, always eager, always there for whoever needed her. She was always the one who helped others, never the one who asked for help, for someone else's time, never the one to worry others. She tried to cry, there in the middle of the streets, and found out that she had forgotten how to do it, not when there were people nearby.
So she only needed a place to be alone.
Dark Mint distanced herself from the conversation that dominated the parlor, thinking of a way to ask what winter even felt like. She didn't think there was one, but she wanted to know. Komachi had never talked about it, and she knew frost and snow only in theory, and for her, those could never replace the feeling of it. There was so much she didn't know, and that ignorance prevented her from talking to all the other Cures. She studied everyone's faces as they spoke their minds, and when a question was directed at her, she was quick to think up of an answer that was similar to Nozomi's, but that wasn't quite the same. No one seemed to doubt her anymore, now that she was starting to get used to being seen as an actual person.
That made her feel warm inside. It was a pleasant feeling, so pleasant she wanted to cling to it forever, before it was taken away from her, as all things were. When people met her, early in the morning, instead of calling her a moron, they wished her a good day, asked her how she was. She didn't know how a good way to answer it, as she was always feeling so much, all at the same time, so she said she was fine. They seemed happy to hear that, and that only intensified the turmoil within her, the idea that others might feel joy at her own well-being. She didn't understand how that was possible. She didn't feel that way about anyone else. When other people said they were happy, she felt nothing. Still, she pretended that she did, so that she could fit in.
She presumed she was being a good enough liar, as the Precure were quick to accept her, even to seek her, to pass time with her. She wondered if they truly cared about her, or if they only gave her attention in the expectation of receiving some in return as well, like she did. Whatever the case was, Dark Mint found herself invited to the large building that served as a sort of meeting place at Last Light, to play something that Nozomi called a game of questions, whatever that meant. The name made her feel uneasy, at first; she remembered Shadow's questions, how he demanded his servants to justify everything they did, to submit every thought of theirs to his approval. It was with those questions that Dark Mint learned how to lie. Dream, however, insisted that it was just a fun way for the Precure to get to know each other better, so with some skepticism, Dark Mint followed.
She was seated on a corner where she could see everyone. Nozomi was by her side, of course, and Kanade by the other. Makoto was close to Iona and Reika, while Yayoi and Ayumi were sitting by the doors. Nile stood up, leaning against a wall, and Megumi and Mika were sitting on the floor. Mint took careful notice of every detail surrounding her, even though she had been told to relax. In truth she didn't know how to relax, so used she was to being careful with everything she did, so as to not anger her superiors.
"I'll start," Yayoi declared. It had apparently been her idea to do this. "I'll ask Komachi," she said, and then everyone turned to stare at her. It was uncomfortable, and she'd rather be elsewhere, but apparently this was normal, so she said nothing. "Let me see… Which is the most beautiful place you've ever seen?"
"Ah," she said, nothing springing into her mind. Dark Mint had a difficult time recognizing beauty, depending solely on the real Mint's words to guide her. Everyone thought flowers were pretty. She tried to think of a place with flowers. The gardens of the palace of Trump were covered in darkness when she saw them, and they weren't even that pretty, anyways. Suddenly she thought of something. "This will probably sound silly," she said, almost certain that she was right, "but I'll say Last Light. It's not a great palace or anything, and its flowers are scattered around, not laid properly, but still…" She saw Nozomi and Reika smile at her words, and thought that she was doing something right. She continued. "It's a simply beauty, I guess. Humble. But still beautiful because of what it represents. Yes, it's like…" She closed her eyes, thinking of a proper and convincing reference. "The flowers of a garden are beautiful, but not special, because there are so many of them. They are all the same, like… Like reflections of each other. One flower is like the others. But a flower blooming in a place where nothing grows, well, I find that more beautiful. Like a flower in a desert. That's Last Light."
"Wow," said Nozomi. "You are right. Totally right, Komachi! You haven't lost your way with words, haha," Dark Mint hadn't expected to sound so convincing. She almost believed her own words. They were not so absurd, after all. For someone like her, who had never seen anything but the mirrors of Shadow's castle, Last Light was indeed the most beautiful sight she had ever seen laid in front of her.
"Indeed," said Beauty. "Last Light is made more beautiful by the desolation it blooms on, by its defiance. Our defiance.
She felt the warmth again, and couldn't help but smile. Her lips moved without her consent, and whenever they did so, that gravely disturbed her. She had not been made to smile, she had to remember that. She had once been struck by the desire to know what happiness was, after Komachi had mentioned it, but when she asked Shadow if she could be happy, he yelled at her, saying that creatures like her were not made to be happy, only to serve. But it was happiness that she felt now, and she recognized it, even though no one ever taught her.
"Ok, your turn," said Nozomi. My turn to do what? "Who are you going to ask?"
"A-Ask? Oh, alright…" Her first instinct was to choose Nozomi, to keep up appearances, but as the name reached her tongue, she realized that she could choose. She was expected to, even. Her hands began to shake. The warmth became colder, then turned to ice. "Choose… How… How can I…" It was too much for her. She wanted to get up and leave, but knew it would only do her harm. She had never chosen anything for herself, other than when she was left behind at Trump, and decided to live. That had not been a real choice, though, as she never had the intention to die. She froze, staring at everyone. "I… I don't know, actually. I'll… I'll think of something."
"Aw, alright," said Nozomi, so casually that Dark Mint felt stupid for being so anxious. She could not deal with all this freedom; worst of all, she could not share her fears with anyone, because she knew that even the most troublesome deeds to her were utterly insignificant to most. She felt jealousy, then anger. Everyone else was incomplete, everyone else was so used to being treated as a person that they would never even be able to comprehend why she felt so uneasy. No one would harm her here, she knew, but even so she could not let go of the fear of being yelled at, of being called an idiot, of being hit, of being reminded that she was less than human.
"No!" Said Yayoi, suddenly serious. "Not alright! We have to abide by the rules, or there's no point in playing! Komachi, why don't you think of a question, and while you do that, we let someone else ask a question?"
"That… That would be alright, yes," she said. Yayoi seemed satisfied. Nile raised her hand.
"May I?" She asked, and no one protested. "Alright, good. Iona," as she turned to Fortune, everyone else did, too. Dark Mint did so as well, understanding that it was the expected reaction. "When you were a child, did you have a dream job?"
"A dream job?" Iona asked. "Like, something I wanted to do when I became an adult, you mean?"
"Yeah," said Nile. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be a bus driver, you know? All those switches and buttons seemed so cool to me. I even saw a bus being repaired, once, but actually got kind of scared when I saw that the engine was magical. I was afraid of the magic running out while I was driving it."
"Heh," said Iona, and Nile blushed, very slightly. Dark Mint was glad she had not been asked this question. She had no idea how she would be able to lie her way out of it. "Well, I wanted to be a fortune teller. Even did it for a while during school festivals, actually. I still enjoy it, but I wouldn't make it my career. Not that I'll have the chance, anyways, I guess," she said, and sighed. "A lot of people think that reading the Fates is just an easy way to cheat suckers out of their money, but it's pretty complicated, actually, you know? It's a science and an art at the same time. Takes serious study."
"The… The Fates?" Dark Mint had no idea what Iona meant with that. It sounded like a grandiose thing; Komachi had said the word fate a few times, and it always seemed to carry a certain weight.
"Yeah. Should I perform a reading for you?" Asked Iona, and though Mint still did not understand what exactly that entailed, the eyes around her made her feel as though she was expected to accept. She nodded.
"Iona is very skilled at this," said Makoto. "She did a reading for me some days ago. The Trump Kingdom is- Or rather, was home to great fortune tellers, but Iona would not be out of place among them.
"Well, alright," said the false Mint, still wary. She knew she had a terrible future ahead of her, the only possible future for her and the rest of Shadow's servants. She did not look forward to it.
Iona guided her patiently. Dark Mint had not often seen her showing such gentleness, but she realized she was actually fond of Iona when she was like this. She enjoyed being with her, with Reika and Nozomi, with Makoto and Nile, Yuko and Hime, everyone. At first she was repulsed by this feeling, knowing it to be wrong and foolish, but the longer she spent close to these girls, the more she learned to appreciate their presence, and the more she began to crave their attention, attention that she had never received before, so new to her that Mint didn't even know how to react to it, despite her desire for it.
"Choose, now," Iona said, handing Dark Mint a handful of cards. She repeated the act four more times, always setting aside the cards which had been chosen. Then she gave them to Dark Mint, and gave her the command to put them on the floor, her eyes closed, the cards face up for all to see. Afterwards, she could open her eyes.
Iona studied the cards, then shut her eyes in what Mint presumed was reflection, and when she opened them looked up at her, she began to speak.
"Night, Girl, Mirror, Girl, Star," said Iona. "In that order. An interesting arrangement, with the Mirror at its center, with two Girls next to it, as if reflected."
"What does it mean?" Dark Mint was eager to know.
"It is an uncommon pattern, but I think the Mirror is of significance. It is reflecting something, but on one side, there is Night next to the Girl, and on the other, the Star. Perhaps it is indicative that you are influenced by someone you admire, but that imitating them is in vain, as you are fundamentally different," she pointed at Night and Star again, as if to make a point. Dark Mint understood all too well what that meant, even if Iona had no way of knowing. It meant she was a fake. "Do you agree?"
"Maybe," she grumbled. She could not admit her lie, could give no sign of it. "This means I should be my own person?"
"I mean, you already are," said Iona, nearly drawing bitter laughter from Mint. "It's more like it's telling you that you cannot perfectly imitate another person's actions, cannot perfectly follow their lead, their examples, so you ought to trust yourself more, and be independent."
"Right," she said. "I will reflect on it."
"That's wise," said Iona. "There's some people who will just follow the will of the Fates, even though they are usually quite vague. Perhaps the meaning is something else entirely. It is up to you to find out."
With that concluded, Dark Mint noticed that, all around the room, eyes were fixed upon her. Nozomi coughed. Oh, right. She had to ask a question now, and had no way of avoiding it. She faced Makoto.
"Er," she began, not actually having a question in mind. "What was it like to grow up in the Trump Kingdom?"
Just as Makoto opened her mouth, she was interrupted by knocking on the door. It opened with no hurry at all, and slowly Hime's head peered in. She froze when she saw that Iona was there, but braved on anyways.
"Um," she began, "have any of you seen Yuko?"
"I haven't," Iona was the first to speak, and, surprisingly, she was gentle about it. Hime was just as shocked, and seemed a bit relaxed after hearing it.
"I've checked the kitchen already," said Hime, "but couldn't find her. Does nobody here know?" Everyone shook their heads. "Well, thanks anyways. If she passes by, tell her I'm looking for her, okay?"
"Sure thing," said Nozomi. With that, Hime closed the door, and Dark Mint was left wondering what that was all about.
There was a short pause, and some Cures exchanged comments, but soon Makoto rose her voice.
"As I was about to say," she began, and Nozomi giggled. Dark Mint could not see what was so funny about it. "That's a bit of a long story."
"We're not in a hurry," said Nile.
"Well, I suppose I should start with my birth. My mother died shortly after I was born," she said, oddly, without a hint of sadness. Death was something that should only make people sad, Dark Mint thought. Did Makoto not care about her mother? No, that seemed awfully cold. She couldn't understand how Sword could even speak of it without being sad. She listened carefully. "It was up to my father to raise me, then. We moved to Trump when I was still a baby. My oldest memories are of him by my side, showing me the Amethyst Sea. Yes, I can see it vividly, now," she closed her eyes, staring upwards. "He's pointing at the waters. He is showing me a ship. He tells me that one day he'll own a ship like that, and sail across the Amethyst Sea with me, and will show me the world. Yes, he promised that he would be able to do it. He'd buy a ship, a small one, as soon as business improved. It never did. Even then, I never believed he would ever be able to buy a ship. But I liked to imagine it, so I always smiled."
"He sounds like a very kind man," said Reika.
"He was, yes. Without my mother and without any family in Trump, it could get lonely, sometimes, but I loved him. Idolized him, really, even though I always knew of his… His issues. I knew he drank. A lot. I never thought much of it, until I was old enough to understand that his habits were less than perfect. He was always good to me, though. He was a sailor, so he would often leave on long trips, for business, and he would always make a great effort finding a responsible and reliable person to take care of me while he was gone. He worried so much about me."
"Worried, you say…" Dark Mint spoke up. She wondered if she was being insensitive, but she had to know. "Not worries?"
"Yeah," said Makoto. This time she sounded a bit sad. "He died, too. No one ever bothered to tell me why. Bad storm? Sickness? No one told me. He just never came back. I waited by the front door for two whole days. I didn't even think of getting out of the house to ask around, you know? I was… I was just so used to him always coming back that I couldn't see it any other way. I only learned when some government people came and gave me the news. I didn't cry when I heard it, actually. It didn't feel real enough for me to cry. They took me to Trump's orphanage, then. I only cried the next morning, when I woke up, when I knew that it was real, that there was absolutely nothing in the world I could possibly do to change what had happened."
Dark Mint wondered what it was that made people mourn. She had always thought that it was because they missed the attention they would never again receive from the person who had died, but now she wondered if it might be something else. She thought about her fellow reflections dying, as Shadow's punishment, and it filled her with unease, even fear.
"Makoto," said Nozomi, "if you ever want to stop talking about this, then-"
"Why?" She asked. "Should I be ashamed that my father died? Should I hide it? It happened. It's sad, yes, but there's no way it won't be sad, and pretending it never happened or avoiding it won't do me any good."
"My father died too," Yayoi said. "I didn't get to spend much time with him either. I… I feel strangely calm when I talk about it. It's almost like it's keeping him alive, in a way. In my heart, as cheesy as it sounds."
"It's true," said Makoto. "It's, uh, it's difficult, yes, but talking about it doesn't make me sad. What makes me sad is when I'm suddenly struck by the overwhelming feeling of absence and helplessness. But I can talk about it just fine. So," she continued, after an exaggerated cough. "The orphanage was very good, built near the palace of Trump, and the children there were always taken good care of, but I was problematic at first, so to speak… By which I mean I spent my first week there lashing out at everyone who got close to me. Almost bit off a caretaker's pinky, too," she sounded seriously embarrassed. "They took me to the office of the orphanage's founder," her eyes lit up as she spoke. "Marie Ange."
"Oh, so that's how you met," said Nozomi. Makoto nodded.
"Y-yeah," she said, her cheeks all red. "She was very proactive, Marie Ange. Always trying to make things better for everyone. She was, I think, just thirteen or fourteen back then. Basically our ages now, and she had already done so much," she laughed.
"Hey!" Nozomi said. "I'm fifteen, okay! Almost sixteen."
"Nozomi, that only makes you sound worse," said Ayumi. Most people in the room laughed, and Dark Mint imitated the gesture.
"Anyways," Makoto said, "Marie Ange said she had heard of my behavior. I felt so embarrassed about it, when I heard her speak, and she wasn't even scolding me! She was so understanding. So kind," Dark Mint noticed that whenever Makoto spoke of her princess, her eyes always seemed to drift away elsewhere. "She told me I should pursue more positive ways to express my feelings. So I began to sing," this caught Dark Mint's attention, "and it turned out I was pretty good at it. So good that Ange always wanted to hear me sing… Yes, we grew close at that time. I was invited to live in the palace with her, and, eventually, even became a Precure. But you already know that."
"Were you and the princess close?" Asked Nile.
"Yes," said Makoto, eyes shimmering again, "though I think that in the end, I believed we were a bit closer than we really were. Heh," she made a sound that was like laughter, but that was too sad to be it. "I guess that she saw herself as someone who was responsible for me. Maybe she saw herself as a mother figure, maybe a big sister… I always wished she had seen me as something else, though."
Dark Mint had no idea what she meant by that, but when she spoke of this Marie Ange, she sounded much like Komachi during the rare occasions she actually talked about Cure Aqua. This was love, Dark Mint understood. An idiotic notion; there was something she was far more interested in.
"You talked about singing…"
"Oh, right," said Makoto. "I joined a choir in the orphanage, but soon enough I was singing on my own. They were both fun, though, singing with others, and by myself. I don't think I ever performed a serious duet, though. A real pity."
"I hope I'm not too forward," Dark Mint said, drawing closer to Makoto, "but… Er… Can you sing for me?"
"For you?"
"Oh! I mean… Not for me in particular!" She didn't want Makoto getting the wrong idea. Sometimes it was hard for Dark Mint to judge the weight of her words. "But with me as your audience! If that makes sense."
"No, no," she said with a tiny smile, "I get what you mean. But, ah… I don't feel like singing. I always sang for Marie Ange, and for…" Her voice became softer as the words came out, until they were hardly understandable. "For Alice. They are gone, though, and now I don't want to sing anymore. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Dark Mint hid her disappointment. She realized, then, that she was just a few inches away from Makoto's face, and that everyone was staring at her.
"So, uh…" Makoto scratched her head. "You sound like you really like songs."
Crap. She couldn't say she hadn't ever heard one, not after this, and a short yes would be a terrible answer, the answer of a liar who was pretending to be someone else. Komachi had a way with words. Dark Mint had to make something up, something convincing.
"I… Yes, of course," she said. And then she knew what to say. "They are poetry, in a way, aren't they? Poetry with an unique sound. That's how Urara and I described it, after discussion," she thought about Dark Lemonade. Revoltingly, she found herself longing for her. The false Lemonade had never been good to her, but she wasn't always terrible. "She always sang for me. We were working on, er…" What was the word? "A song play… I mean, a musical. Yes, we were working on a musical together."
"I didn't know that!" Nozomi said, almost yelling. "I thought it was just a normal play!"
"Well, it wasn't a very serious project," Dark Mint spun the lie, "just something for the long term. Anyways, yes, Lemonade taught me the beauty of songs. How wonderful they are, and, er… The way they allow you to relate to a feeling you didn't even know you had. A feeling that is not even yours, in a sense. I miss her," said Dark Mint. Nozomi closed her fists at that. "I miss her so much. I can hear her singing, if I try to. Singing for m- For us. Do you remember, Nozomi?" She asked, but Nozomi looked away, hiding her face. "When we were all together. I remember that so well. The good times we had together, the songs Urara sang, and, ah, how Rouge would-"
Nozomi got up, wordlessly, and walked away. Reika tried to grasp her arm, but Nozomi just moved past her, and stepped out of the building, leaving the door open. Everyone looked at each other awkwardly.
"As I was saying," Dark Mint continued, now that the interruption was gone. "Rouge would-"
"Komachi," Reika said, gentle but firm, "do you think Nozomi is alright?"
"Oh? Yeah, sure. She's always fine," she said, impatient. Dark Mint knew very little about Nozomi, much less than she knew about Rouge, Lemonade, Aqua, and, of course, Mint herself. All she knew was what Komachi had told her, and she wouldn't often speak about her. Shadow had never gotten his hands on Dream, either, so there was no Dark Dream to speak of, so the liar Mint had no way of knowing much about her. "No need to worry about her. She never wants anyone to worry about her," the real Mint had said that, "so please don't worry. She's strong. If you worry, you'll just make her sad."
"Alright," said Reika, but she did not sound all too convinced. She kept looking at the open door, trying to catch a glimpse of something. Outside, the skies were grey, the clouds were heavy.
Dark Mint pouted. She didn't want this to be about Nozomi. She had so much she wanted to know, so much she wanted to ask, and she wanted to be heard. The question game progressed, then, and her voice rarely was heard in the building, as she, instead, was content to listen, for now.
But she kept thinking of Nozomi, even as night came, even as it began to rain and the doors were closed. Nozomi was sad, that much was clear. But Dark Mind had a hard time understanding why. It hurt not to know; not simply because she wanted to, but because she knew that the reason she could not understand was because she was a frail imitation of a human, a broken mirror of misshapen reflections. She could not understand, and she could not feel.
Or so she told herself until she thought of Nozomi leaving, again, the way she hid her face, she way she did not let anyone see her saddened face. Dark Mint felt, then, for the first time, sorrow, not for her suffering, but for that of someone else. She looked around, sweating, to see a room full of people who were not even capable of understanding what it was that she had just discovered. She couldn't name it, but she knew she felt it, she felt Nozomi's pain, and it hurt almost as much as if it were her own.
Eas ran under the darkened sky drowned in clouds, the clover amulet swinging forward in her haste, then falling back on her chest with a soft thump, its chains tinkling, sounds muffled by her quickened breathing and by the bellows of thunder.
Wisps of dead grass were torn from the ground she stepped upon, kicking up faint clouds of greenish dust around her. Cold droplets fell on her skin. She had felt them before, she remembered, though in Labyrinth the rains were warm, rancid, thick. These ones were clear, like crystal.
She had been walking away ever since she left Labyrinth, never looking back, but though she knew she had already covered a great distance, it did not feel as if she was very far. The world had been painted with the greys of Labyrinth, covered by its dull sadness, a far cry from the memories that peered through the fog that covered her memory. Still she ran.
The clouds gathered in thick clusters of grey, quickly turning black as the sky darkened. The rain would not be over quickly, Eas knew. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, desperately looking for shelter from the storm, but all around her was barren desolation. She moved forward, yet feared it made no difference which way she went. She never stopped running: something inside her forbid her from giving up.
She reached long, twisting chasms on the ground. A stone bridge offered her passage, and as she crossed it, she understood that she was gazing at what had once been a river. She looked at its course again, extending all the way to the horizon, all of it dead and dry. On the bottom, she saw thorns growing from the lifeless, rocky soil, and decayed carcasses of fishes gathered all over, pierced and scattered over the briars. Only their spines remained, but here and there Eas saw the pale glint of colors of scales that remained. But even those were greying, dying colors in a world that refused all colors but ruin's.
Soon the rain was falling hard, and Eas had no relief in sight. The thunder had gotten louder, the lighting harder and more insistent. As Eas ran, lightning struck close to her, shaking the world, threatening to bring her to the ground. When she looked up, the sky was a web, roaring, and from the clouds came neverending rain. When it fell on Eas' skin, it did so heavily, mercilessly, incessantly, hurting her. They were cold, and so were the winds that tried to knock her down. When she saw a house, veiled by the rain, she ran towards it at once, even faster than she was, while the heavens bombarded the world. Eas reached her safe haven, jumped inside and slammed the door shut. She realized, then, as she tried to breathe, that she was crying.
At once she felt ashamed. Fear should not bring her to tears. She was stronger than that, she always had to be. Her heart pounded, dissonant, her arms and legs trembled. She fell to the floor, and despite the shame, she kept crying. She wept loudly, with no restraints, and her voice filled the rooms, but next to the raging storm, it was frail and pathetic, and it drowned.
She heard no other sounds, and took that as a sign that she was alone. She sighed, and got up. Her stomach hurt in its emptiness. Rainwater could comfort her dry throat, but Eas didn't feel like it would be wise to drink that water. She knew that much of the world was blighted by a corruption that she had no doubt had reached even the sky. It had painted the sun red with its touch, so Eas had few doubts that the rain was poison. Everything was poison in this dying world.
When fear had passed and her body felt lighter again, and nimble, she took to investigating the house. She had no way of knowing it was safe, and knew it was wiser to assume that it was not. She was in a living room, she noticed, a clock hanging on the wall, but its hands were still. Couches were covered by a layer of dust, and spiders wove their webs on the legs of the chairs and the table on the other side of the room.
She found papers scattered over the floor. They were large, their texture grainy, the letters typed upon it small. They tore easily, and Eas found them unwieldy, wondering what purpose they served. Their content was not too different from the news bulletins she'd receive at Labyrinth, but she couldn't imagine why someone would go so far as to print out news on actual paper. She found a date at the very top of each paper; some of them differed, but they were all of the same week, it seemed.
She read the headlines with great interest, wondering what the people here would find of importance, fascinated by even the simplest news. The inauguration of a new well-equipped clinic at a certain neighborhood, to provide for the people far from the city centers. The opening of a new restaurant that served typical meals from Majorland; a rough picture with faded colors showed a man in front of a building, smiling, a large sign atop the façade. The passage of a comet and the best places to watch it go by. The news became less important as she read onward, until they ceased, replaced by commentary, short stories, offers. A litter of kittens, all up for adoption, one with a bad leg. An experienced gardener offering tutoring for aspiring workers. Discount ballet lessons for children, for those who brought a coupon; underneath those words something had been cut away, leaving jagged lines behind. Some phone numbers circled by a black pen. Obituaries.
Eas set the papers aside, and continued to examine the house, rainfall in chorus all around, bellowing in bass. She could not hear her own footsteps as the raindrops rapped on the windows, on the roof. Darkness enclosed her, its black deepening as night came, and the last rays of sunshine of the afternoon were covered by clouds. Eas walked in the dark, hearing only the sounds from the outside. In the tempest she felt small, insignificant, her steps muffled things that could not make themselves be heard. It did not feel altogether bad; Eas was not quite sure how it made her feel. The darkness was eerie, but as she grew used to the downpour and its sounds, she felt an odd sense of tranquility, almost safety.
The kitchen smelled of mold, but not of rot, so Eas was not surprised when she opened the fridge and saw that it was empty. The same she saw in each cabinet she investigated. On the counter were red stains that looked like blood from afar, but close inspection showed that its color was too clear for that, and even now it had a distinctive smell, heavy and unpleasant, but not blood.
Once she grew used to lightning and thunder, Eas started to welcome its shine, as it illuminated her way in quick flashes, even in the darkest parts of the house, revealing surroundings that she could just barely make out. Lightning struck; she saw a bed, its mattress gone. Then came darkness, and Eas waited for light again. When it returned, it showed her a wardrobe left open, and clothes scattered on the floor. Eas held them as she couldn't see them, and they felt rough, and she found holes in some of them. Each strike of lightning showed her something new. A stack of papers on the floor, a different sort from the one she found before, its surface smoother. A portrait on a table by the bed, though covered in dust, impossible to recognize. Darkness lingered shortly, and the sound of rain grew fainted for a few moments, but when the light shone through the window again, Eas saw a large black mirror, and the man held inside it, his eyes closed, his face strangely sad. Thunder roared, and Eas stepped closer, but when a bolt blazed bright again, she saw a smaller mirror behind the large one, as if protected by it. She did not look closer, and instead turned back, and ran, slamming the door shut.
She understood all too well what had happened here. Then she felt an odd sense of guilt over being in this house. This was not a place where she was welcome, not a place of shelter and rest. She could not get the sight of those people trapped in mirrors from her head, no matter how hard she tried. The realization that the whole world was like this felt like a crushing weight on her, smashing her. This happened because the Precure were defeated, because the stars were gone. And some of the blame lay on her own hands, too, even if she tried to deny it, and not only because she was of Labyrinth. She looked at the clover amulet and tried to remember Cure Peach, but could not. She had no memory of her, yet she had the the feeling that she had caused that girl great pain. As she tried to grasp at any recollection of Cure Peach, all she remembered was the sound of crying.
And she remembered she had been a Precure. That was the most painful of all. She couldn't remember who she was, and for so long at Labyrinth she had tried to hide all evidence of it, even from herself, trying to convince herself that she was not different, wrong broken. Now she could not run from it, from the fact that she had been a Precure. She ran from it once, when she abandoned the Precure and returned to Labyrinth. She had only been one person, had only been one Precure of hundreds, but now as she found herself in the darkness, prisoner of rains, she could only wonder if, perhaps, had she not been a coward, had she remained a Precure, she could have eased a little bit of the pain of the world. She wondered if it was too late now.
She sat on the uncomfortable couch, leaned back, her body sore, and kept still, letting herself rest as her eyes followed the raindrops that wept down the windows, trying not to think, focusing on the storm.
The sky wept all over Nozomi, uncaring, as it wept over the world around her. She felt a strong smell of wet earth, and her feet sank slightly on the muddy soil. Droplets fell in tinkles around her, resounding on roofs, like drums being banged with no harmony.
People around scurried for shelter. She saw Ayumi's mother passing by, covering her head with a plate, Kenta and his mother under an umbrella, then saw Kaede photographing the clouds, seemingly without caring about the rain. She waved at Nozomi, who retributed hastily, and passed by.
"Have you ever thought about how the rain could be a song?"
Urara had asked that, long ago, and Nozomi couldn't help but think of it. She didn't want to think of Urara, so far away now, if she still lived, but now that she had remembered her, she could not get her off her mind.
"No, I never really thought about it."
That had been Nozomi's answer, but now she could not even remember when it was that they had exchanged those words. It was a memory behind haze now, yet it tormented Nozomi so.
She hadn't thought about Urara in so long. Even when she remembered Rin, at Trump, when her hopes were ignited again, Nozomi had not really thought about her. She chased that ghost, but she did so almost mindlessly. Now, however, under the rain, she drowned in her own thoughts, her own recollections. It hurt so much to know that they were so distant now, so lost in the past that she could barely remember them, had no way of reaching them. That happiness was in the past, and now it was gone, dead, and there was nothing Nozomi could do but think back and make the heartache sting harder.
And the rain fell harder. Nozomi knew she ought to find shelter, then. She was almost glad to be alone; only almost, because solitude like this could never be true happiness, but at least she could cry on her own, if the tears came. Then, no one would see how weak and lost she was.
When her hair touched her skin, it clung to it, wet and cold, and Nozomi shivered. She ran to the nearest building she could find, a small shack by the farms of Last Light, where grains and seeds were stored. Nozomi jumped inside, and closed the door. It was dark, and she bumped into something, making a loud thud. Then she heard a gasp, not hers, coming from the darkness.
"Who… Who's there?" She asked, and the darkness answered with a stifled whimper. A little light still shone through the window, but only a sliver, so all she could see were the vague outlines of boxes and sacks around the room. The rain fell on the corrugated iron roof like pebbles.
Nozomi lit the room with magical light, tingeing it in dark pink, and could see a girl scurry away into a corner. It was Yuko, Nozomi noticed when she drew closer. Her eyes were read, her knuckles wet with tears they wiped.
"Are you okay?" Nozomi had never seen Yuko cry. She, in fact always seemed like the sort of person who was never brought down by sorrow.
"Yes," she lied, almost convincingly. "I'm fine."
"Were you-"
"I wasn't crying. I wasn't sad. Don't… Don't worry about me, Nozomi," she smiled, but there was sadness in her lips.
"You don't need to tell me if you don't want to," said Nozomi, "but you do seem like you were crying. Am I intruding, or-"
"Kinda," she said, but not with any spite. "You're right. I was sad. I didn't want anyone to see it, so I came here, because nobody comes to this shack unless it's raining outside and they need shelter."
"Well, I guess you were right about that," Nozomi said, but Yuko didn't laugh. "Is something troubling you?"
"Something? No, nothing in particular, actually," Nozomi couldn't tell if that was truthful. "Lots of little things, though. I… Ah, forget it. It's stupid."
"It's not. Don't say that. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. You can trust me, if you don't want anyone to know you were crying."
"I do trust you," said Yuko. It made Nozomi a bit happier to hear that. "I'm just stressed. And worried. So, so worried."
"About what?"
"About the future. And the past, too, I guess. And the present. I'm worried about everything, that's the truth. I'm scared, but there's no one who can comfort me, because, well, I'm too scared to ask for comfort in the first place!"
"How so?" Nozomi asked, drawing closer. She found it almost uncanny how Yuko's feelings were similar to her own.
"I… Well, the world isn't doing that well. You know that better than most," Nozomi nodded. "We're happy here at Last Light, but it's a frail happiness. We all have things we try to forget, thoughts that can only make us sad, memories we can't leave behind. And there's nothing wrong with that. But… It does mean that almost everybody here is just a word or two away from breaking down. And I don't want that to happen. I don't want anyone to be sad. I know how easy it is to just give up when things are bad, to think that there's no way out, and when you see that everyone around you is also resigned to sorrow, well, then what reason do you have to be happy?"
"Yuko…"
"So I don't want to cry. And if I do, I don't want anyone to see it. I have to be the happy one. I have to. I have to smile when nobody else does. If everyone sees me as that girl who's never sad, who's always hard-working, always willing to help, then maybe that'll help people be happy. Maybe that'll inspire them. Maybe they'll feel like there's something in our future other than sadness."
Nozomi had to hug her after hearing that. She didn't even care that her arms were dripping wet, her clothes were heavy with water. She embraced Yuko gently, and the way she smiled made Nozomi think that it was what she needed.
"That's probably really dumb of me," said Yuko when Nozomi let go of her. "To think I'm important like that, that anyone gives a damn about me being happy, that-"
"You're not dumb," Nozomi repeated. "I… I do understand your feelings. I feel the same. Well, not exactly the same, but… You're not dumb, trust me. I do feel like you do, thinking I cannot cry, that I cannot show weakness. Everyone sees me as a person who's too dumb to be sad, don't they?"
"No one thinks you're dumb, Nozomi."
"Well, they don't say it, at least," she said. She was still afraid of it, constantly. "I don't cry, though. I try not to let most people know I'm sad. Reika's the exception, because I trust her so much, with all of my feelings, but… I can't even be honest with Komachi. I feel like it would be unfair to burden her with my sadness after we've been separated for so long. We should be happy, and I don't want to ruin that. We all should be happy. That's why I was outside."
"Hm?"
"I was sad," Nozomi almost had to laugh. "Didn't want anyone to see it."
"Ah," Yuko didn't have much to say, but Nozomi found her eyes comforting enough. What is it that made you sad, though?"
"I remembered her," she said, and could hear her voice. "Urara. She was my friend. I remembered her, and then…" She didn't want to say it. She was regretting everything now, feeling she should not have told Yuko anything. Nozomi didn't want her to worry either. "I started thinking about my friends," Nozomi let out despite her reluctance, "about my family, and how I might never see them again," this was the hardest thing to say, and she had to hold back from crying as she spoke. "I hadn't thought about them for so long. I had to avoid thinking of them. I… I can't deal with it. I legitimately have no idea how to stand it. If I think of them I just feel so hopeless, and they are all so distant, and I…"
She didn't know what else she could say. Yuko seemed to understand well enough, though, and sat by Nozomi's side. Her body was warm, while Nozomi's was still cold.
"We're kinda silly, aren't we?" Asked Yuko. "Worrying so much about others knowing we're sad, feeling it's our responsibility to be happy…"
"Yeah," said Nozomi. She began to feel warmer inside. "I guess that's just how we are. But sometimes it just gets too painful to keep everything inside."
"Tell me about it… I want to be reliable, that's all. I don't want anyone to worry about me. If Hime found out I'm sad, I have no idea how she'd react. It pains me to hide things from her, but she has enough in her mind already."
"I understand," said Nozomi. "Truly, I do. Maybe we got lucky tonight, then, being all alone here, where no one can see us be miserable?"
"That's one way to put it," said Yuko, covering her mouth with her hand. "Doesn't look like the rain will be stopping any time soon."
"Let us cry, then," said Nozomi, suddenly feeling like that was a brave thing to do. Yuko smiled, and Nozomi had to do the same. "Hey, it's just the two of us here. No one will know."
"I know," Yuko said, and stopped smiling. "Yes, I know. You are right, and yet… I feel like sadness is defeat."
"It isn't," said Nozomi, "and I want to be happy, too, but… We can leave happiness for tomorrow, for once. It'll be fine. Let's be weak. For a little while. We deserve it. We all do. It's difficult to be so strong all the time."