Credits: La Vie En Rose as performed by Louis Armstrong, lyrics written by Mack David, Louiguy, Edith Giovanna Gassion
La Vie En Rose (Part III)
Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose
-La Vie En Rose, Louis Armstrong
They requested for the check after their breakfast plates were cleared.
Kagome sipped her cappuccino in Café Le Carré Élysée, surrounded with animated chatter from the other tables.
She watched the busy barista at work as they made their gourmet coffee, the smell of freshly roasted beans rising in the air, mingling with the quiet French song playing overhead. When her eyes landed at Jyohaku across the table, she realized he was watching her.
It was a peculiar thing to know you're being watched by someone. It didn't help that his eyes wore a dark, brooding gaze. She looked over her shoulder.
"Don't turn. I'm looking at you."
"Why, do I look odd?" Did she have a parsley leaf from her sandwich up her teeth?
His posture eased as a smile grew. "No. Just that you look different today."
"Oh. Must be the sunlight."
"Has to be. You appear more—how do I say—radiant."
Her cheeks went aflame. Jyohaku was in an unusually good mood since morning. Charming, if she even dared. A complete switch from his depressing moods. The man changed like the weather itself. He moved with surprising vigour too. Just like the way the rain had suddenly stopped, flooding the city with warm sunshine, it was purely and simply, by the grace of the gods.
"Hoo boy. You know I don't take compliments very well," Kagome replied good-naturedly, waving her face. "Especially from you."
Jyohaku laughed. "I can see from your reaction. Shall we get you a glass of water?"
It felt like that night in the bar, except they were married now.
Kagome had planned the day's itinerary the morning itself, and they will need to abide by its schedule by hook or crook.
"We must leave the hotel latest by nine and take a taxi to Champs-Élysées. We'll have breakfast there, do a little shopping and make our way slowly to the Arc de Triomphe. Are you listening?" she told him when they were still in the hotel.
Jyohaku grunted.
"Since the Eiffel Tower is the closest here, we'll make it the last stop. I already bought special tickets online and we're granted a slot at four p.m. to go up the tower. Narumi, you're not saying anything."
He frowned. "How am I supposed to speak when you have a knife near my jugular vein? My life is in your hands right now."
Jyohaku was sitting in the bath again, Kagome assisting with his grooming routine.
"Worry more about your carotid artery instead," she replied, scraping the stubble below his chin carefully. "One good slash and you'll be out in three minutes."
"How do you know these things?"
"High school."
"High school, again."
The waiter came with the check. Jyohaku received it, and Kagome looked at the time.
Ten a.m.
They'll leave the Eiffel Tower by five and head back to the hotel. Jyohaku will need to take his medication and it would make him drowsy. He'll rest. And then she'll leave, because she had a rendezvous to catch at Pont des Arts at six.
It was the perfect plan.
Kagome will do anything to see Sesshoumaru again.
Kouhei unlocked Jyohaku's door with the house keys entrusted to him. They heard a chorus of mews from inside, and little furry heads, all bright-eyed and eager, began to poke themselves out from the open door.
He immediately bent down to pat them. "They're so darn cute, Amari! Look at them!" He opened the door wider. "Omigosh, it's like a cat sanctuary! A cat paradise!"
Behind him Amari was wailing in her spot, as two cats scampered out to play at her feet.
"I didn't know you're scared of cats. You should have told me earlier," Kouhei scolded her after they were done with their feeding duties. They had cleared their litter boxes and changed their water too.
It was only their first day taking care of the cats. They were instructed by the priest to come here daily for the whole week, and Amari was already close to fainting. Each time a cat brushed past her legs or even mewed at her, she would immediately stiffen up like a rock.
"I'm not scared of them, I'm just scared of what they might do to me..."
"Ehhh, that pretty much sounds like the definition of "scared"."
Amari and Kouhei sat on the floor as they watched the cats. They gathered obediently, munching from their bowls, their tails wagging in contentment.
Amari craned her neck to study Jyohaku's house. It was a large traditional home, boasting many rooms, and a large garden. It was meant for a family unit. However his parents were long gone, and it proved too spacious for a lone man to live in. But now he had his cats...and a new wife to accompany him.
With the priest so far away, this was the closest Amari could possibly get. The closest she would ever get, she realized. Her feet caressed against the tatami flooring, her soles grasping the tingling sensation. Did his feet touch this spot too?
The cats had really conquered the house as their own. Once they were done with breakfast they roamed around and hopped onto the shelves and climbed along the beams. Shippo stayed behind and cleaned himself beside Amari. She watched him with transfixed eyes, extremely tempted to touch him.
"Speaking of which, have you made plans to move in with your brother?" Kouhei asked. He sounded like he had been waiting to say it out.
"Nope. He outright rejected me over the phone. He said all I needed was a vacation. I don't know, maybe I should go to the islands. I haven't been there since I was a kid."
Amari looked at him. "Do you want to come? It'll be fun. We can go snorkeling, see the beautiful corals. Ah, did I tell you my nickname was Coral Girl as a kid? That's how much I really love them!"
Kouhei smiled uncertainly at her. Asking him to go to the islands. Was it just with him alone or was she bringing other friends? What did everything even mean? Ugh, women were always giving him ambiguous signals.
Then her hand was suddenly over his, squeezing.
"I… I want to know you better, Kouhei," she said shyly, her face growing beet-red.
Kouhei was so embarrassed that his hand jerked away. "What, am I going to be your rebound boyfriend?"
"Oh no, I didn't mean to offend you like that!" Amari cried, covering her face.
Kouhei laughed. "I'm just joking! Gosh, you should look at the mirror when you get flustered."
"Don't lie, you were flustered too!" She took his hand again, and it was big and it fitted nicely with hers.
She remembered when Jyohaku had talked about hiring a new staff. A young handsome chap, he had described Kouhei. I think you might like him, Kirihata.
"What's this?" she pointed out to his hand. There was a pale, discoloured mark on his palm.
"Oh, it's just a birthmark," Kouhei said simply.
Her thoughts were broken by a wet, rough sensation on her toes. She gasped when she realized Shippo was licking her.
"Kyaaaa!"
Kouhei smiled. "Shippo likes everyone, doesn't he?" He laid on the floor, sighing, his hand still linked with hers. "Man, I wish I can go to Paris too."
"Uh-huh," Amari went, lying beside him, gazing at the ceiling, "I wonder what they're doing right now."
Kouhei eyed her. "They're on their honeymoon. What do you think they're doing?"
"Eww don't be a pervert, Kouhei."
"I'm sorry," he said, and he was laughing, rolling to his side, "I just can't imagine them together."
Amari glared at him at first, until a giggle too burst from her chest. "I know right. They're going to spend their whole lives fighting with each other."
A pensive look then caught on his face. "But I really feel sorry for Sesshoumaru-san though. He and Kagome-sama really made a good couple, didn't they?"
Amari patted her chest from giggling too much. "They really were. And I really wish him happiness, wherever he is."
In the tourist guidebook, Champs-Élysées was dubbed as the most famous avenue in the world. The moment they opened the door out of the cafe, it greeted their eyes— a road stretched far and wide, flanked on its either side by impressive monuments and swanky boutiques and peculiar attractions. They could see the Arc of Triomphe at the far end, winking at the distance.
Jyohaku leaned on his majestic cane. He'd told Kagome he wouldn't be caught dead in a wheelchair. With his long coat, all he was missing was a top hat and a monocle.
"You know what I always tell you..." she started.
He rolled his eyes. "...Don't exert yourself."
They walked leisurely down the street, basking in the golden glow of the morning sun, soaking in the magical charm of Paris. He felt healthy, every breath a new surge of life in his lungs. And happy too, top-of-the-world happy, in fact. Just like in his dream.
Jyohaku was blissfully unaware of how Kagome was distracting his line of sight from the ugly realities of the city—giant rats, vomit on the sidewalk, sneaky pickpockets.
Let him have his picture-perfect postcard of Paris, she thought.
Without a word his hand had slipped quietly around hers. They held hands, fulfilled a dream. All the way, until they reached the end of the avenue before the Arc of Triomphe.
They took lots of photos. Kagome was dressed in black from head to toe, from her hat and scarf, down to her ankle boots. The historical landmark loomed tall and grand behind her. Jyohaku thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
Ichiro slurped on his ramen noodles. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing the blue sky from the balcony of his new house. There were still boxes lying around for months waiting to be unpacked. He had been too busy to touch them.
Earlier that day Amari had thrown him aback with a call. Move in with him? His sister was nuts. There were no jobs for her here.
This town was dead, and far from the city. The only silver lining was that housing was a lot cheaper. He could finally afford an apartment with rooms.
Seriously though, Ichiro thought, eating his noodles glumly. How did Kagome get married with the priest? He almost spat his food when Amari told him, and he didn't need to rack his brains to know it was the very reason she wanted to pack her bags. Still.
It wasn't a question of why but how.
I can't believe it...that the psychopath would allow Kagome to marry another man less than a year after he bloody tried to kill me.
His mood became gloomier as he thought about it. His food tasted soggy in his mouth.
Kagome, I don't understand everything that's going on, but please, just be safe.
He threw a dreary sigh and got up to the kitchen with his noodles. His foot accidentally kicked a large box on the way there. He eyed the offending object contemplatively.
Why did I even bring you here? he thought. Wasn't it because of you that Kagome got mad at me, and…
Ichiro knelt down to the box. He ripped it open just to see its contents for the last time. A collection of white plastic limbs, clothes and a long wig. Kikyou's mannequin face, detached from its body, stared right back at him.
"You stayed with me for far too long, haven't you?" he spoke tensely. As if its dead eyes were capable of processing words, of understanding his feelings. "And what happened has miraculously cured me of my fixation. No more shrine maidens, I say."
Ichiro hoisted the box under his arm and went out of the door. He walked downstairs and out of his apartment complex, to the field behind. There was a large metal bin used by the residents to burn garbage. Probably in other places this was illegal. But here, you could do anything.
He chucked the box inside and lit his lighter.
The fire started to grow. Ichiro pulled on his shirt to fan himself from the heat then squatted on the grass, waiting, as the black smoke billowed into the open air, the box disintegrating, the mannequin melting in its fiery wake. It left an awful, pungent smell.
"Hey Kirihata!" Someone shouted from one of the kitchen windows. "Are you burning plastic? You know you're not supposed to!"
"Oops!" Ichiro yelled back. "My bad!"
"Damn you!"
He continued to sit there, watching the cinders rise and dance into the blue sky. After awhile he had to wipe his face with his shirt, for his bitter tears had begun to form and slip into his lips.
There was a protest on the main roads leading to the Eiffel Tower. Kagome wasn't sure what the riotous crowd was advocating for, but it was an eye-opening scene, something she would never witness in peaceful Tokyo. The police had blocked the area off. Taking any form of road transport was out of the question.
She looked at Jyohaku uneasily. "I think we may need to take the Metro. Do you think you can manage?"
His breaths had gone shorter from the growing strains of fatigue, his cane wobbling under his weight. "We don't have a choice, do we?" he huffed.
Kagome looked at her watch, mildly annoyed. They had taken a long break at the kebab store just now, too long apparently. It was three-thirty, and their viewing ticket was for four PM.
Who would anticipate this would happen?
She didn't speak on the way to the station, her thoughts roiling, on edge. It was packed due to the roadblock. As they waited for the train at the crowded, dingy platform, her anxiety started to creep at the back of her neck.
Tut, tut tut, is someone growing impatient? The little voice teased in her head.
Beside her Jyohaku sat on a bench, reading a French phrasebook. "Je voudrais parler français," he enunciated carefully in all the wrong places.
What if they were late and missed their turn? Kagome agonised. What if we have to take the snaking queue? Jyohaku can't stand for long periods.
The train came. The crowd jostled to get in. Kagome and Jyohaku will need to take a few stops to Trocadéro, then walk across the Pont de l'Alma Bridge to their destination. Walk, walk, walk. As if they hadn't walked enough. Kagome clutched a handrail as the train moved, taking a deep breath to compose herself.
No, if we miss our turn, we're not going to queue. God knows how long it takes. We'll just see the Eiffel Tower without going upstairs then. We can't stay later than five. We need to stick to the time. He needs to take his medication. We can't reach the hotel late.
I can't be late.
Kagome looked up. There were two more stops to Trocadéro. Suddenly, it felt like someone had splashed a bucket of cold water on her.
Jyohaku. He was not beside her. Or behind, or in front, or in the whole carriage for that matter.
He was still sitting at the busy platform, reading his book. She had left him behind.
To be continued…
A/N: I'm sorry if my descriptions of Paris are inaccurate. I've never been there, but I took a walk through Google Maps and downloaded the Metro map in the name of research. Why didn't you choose Amsterdam? my fiance said, because he went there. No, I said, because someone wanted to go to bloody Paris, the most cliche honeymoon place ever.