Minazuki had expected: Miyako had apparently had Maron's living room
wiretapped for the past several months. So, there they were, sitting in
Miyako's room and listening to the tinny conversation from a small speaker
set upon the desk.
It was not, needless to say, Minazuki's original conception of the first
time he would have been in Miyako's room.
He glanced over at her briefly as Maron explained her relationship with
Fin. Her face was drawn and tense, as it had been since the first angry
words had come through the speaker, clearly audible from the kitchen's
bug.
"Miyako?" he asked, tapping her shoulder gently. He still relished being
able to call her by her first name.
"Ah? Yamato, what is it?" Her attention had been entirely focused upon
the
explanation. She shifted restlessly in her seat, stealing a glance
towards
the speaker. He stood and turned it off, frowning at her. She opened
her
mouth to protest, then subsided. "Chiaki was right, though," she said
defensively after a tense moment of silence.
"Maybe he was. But it isn't our business to know every single detail
of
their conversation." As important as that conversation may have been,
it
was a private conversation nonetheless. "Miyako, Maron is the most
important person in the world to you." At her nod, he sighed inwardly.
It
was tempting to try and break that determination through sheer force
of
logic, but logic, he'd found, was harsh and did not care for broken
hearts.
He let the subject drop. All he did was sit down next to her upon the
bed,
running a hand through his hair. He needed a haircut.
As soon as he sat down, she heaved a wistful sigh and glared halfheartedly
at him, then at the speaker. "Maron was the only one who would be my
friend
when we were little, and when we were growing up," she said, tentatively
leaning against him. He felt his cheeks turn slightly red. She'd punched
him when he'd told her how he felt; this voluntary contact was unexpected.
"We just... stayed friends, going into gymnastics together, going through
the high school exams with eachother. I've always been one of the most
important people in her life, and I don't know if I am now."
It had to be about Maron, of course. She raised a point, however, that
had
troubled Minazuki for some time. Chiaki had been everything he'd wanted
to
be: suave, handsome, and perfectly capable of winning any girl's heart
--
even the unreachable Kusakabe Maron. And so, he'd wanted to be like
Chiaki
for the longest time. He'd gotten contacts, changed his attitude...
and
discovered that he wasn't Chiaki. All in the span of a couple months,
he'd
learned that he was himself, and not definable by who he looked like
or was
friends with. "Miyako," he said gently, "You aren't only Maron's friend.
You're Toudaiji Miyako, one of the smartest girls in our class, and,
if you
know it or not, one of the strongest people I know." He looked down
at his
hands, made suddenly shy by his words. "And one of the most beautiful."
He could feel her tense beside him, pinning him with a glare. "Is that
what
all this is about? You told me you liked me, and you're using the situation
to get just that little bit further along with me?" He flinched away
from
her hurt, sharp tone. "I thought better of you, linchou. Get out. Now.
Before I show you just how 'strong' I am." The whiplash of sarcasm
on that
one word sent him out the door.
He never even noticed Miyako's sister watching him as he left, her
expression thoughtful. The door slammed, and, had he been able to see,
he
would have been startled at how Miyako's sister casually entered her
sister's room and began to ask questions.
*
Damn, damn and double-damn. Minazuki stared blankly at the mirror in
the
elevator, only barely noticing the rhythmic ping of the indicator as
it
counted down the floors. He scrubbed at a wayward tear with the edge
of his
coatsleeve, turning just in time to see the doors open and Kusakabe
Takumi
frown at him.
The man looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. And, considering
the
conversation he'd had, Minazuki couldn't blame him. "Kusakabe-san,"
he said
politely, trying to slip past the older man and out into the night.
Takumi
moved to block him, still frowning.
"You're Maron's class president, correct?" Even his voice was rough
and
tired. "I need to speak with you. I need information."
Minazuki shook his head doggedly, making another futile attempt to get
to
the door. "Kusakabe-san, I can't give you any information. I don't
know
anything." He knew he was a bad liar, but he wasn't about to give details
about Maron to someone who had walked out on her not once, but twice.
"Let
me pass."
Takumi reached out, hand closing on his shoulder. "No. You have
information. And it's important to me to know every single bit of
information about Maron." Minazuki struggled, trying to escape the
iron
grip, but it was as though the man were stronger than he ought to have
been. "Stop it, boy."
He wrenched his shoulder out of Takumi's grip and stared angrily at
him. "I
am sorry, Kusakabe-san, but you don't deserve to know the first thing
about
Maron. She can forgive almost anything, but I don't know how she could
forgive you for what you said and did! You said you couldn't tell her
who
to love. And now you're saying that this isn't true? How dare you."
And, with that final word, he whirled on his heel and stalked out of
the
door, hands clenched at his sides.
***
Once again, Kaiki was standing in front of the painting, looking up
with a
smile. The moment broke as a laughing Yashiro darted down the hall,
carrying a single light bag. He turned, and, as expected, a heavily-loaded
Kagura followed, his face expressionless save for a tiny hint of laughter
in his eyes. "Shopping again?" Kaiki asked, gesturing at the packages,
eyebrows lifted.
Yashiro swung about, beaming at him. "Oh yes, we went shopping. And
we got
some really nice clothes -- dresses and hats and all sorts of things.
And I
even got Kagura to get something for himself, too!" She was bright
and
cheerful and young, and her grin was infectuous. Kaiki's smile grew.
"I'm glad that you had fun, Yashiro-chan. Did you see either of our
guests
while you were out?" The question was not mere curiosity; he attempted
to
smooth away the worry that tinged his voice and expression, but it
refused
to leave. Koron and Takumi had far too much to learn in too short a
time,
and too much -- Maron's happiness -- depended upon their learning the
truth. Though, admittedly, what that truth was, Kaiki wasn't entirely
sure.
Yashiro paused, absently taking a couple packages from Kagura as she
thought. "I did. I saw Kusakabe-san's father with one of her teachers
at a
cafe. They were talking, so I didn't say anything." She smiled at him,
green eyes dancing merrily. "You worry too much."
He returned the smile easily, feeling his muscles relax. Yashiro had
been a
favorite child of his, as she'd grown up. Her parents had been friends
of
his first wife, Mizuki, and when they'd died, he'd lost another link
to
her. She had become his ward soon after, and she and Chiaki had grown
up
together. "I do, and you're right. I shouldn't, should I?"
Kagura cleared his throat, looking faintly pained -- but then, Kaiki
mused,
he always did look as though he were in a bit of pain -- and Yashiro
turned
pink. "Well, we should go. Don't forget to come to dinner!" The last
was
shouted over her shoulder as she once again started down the hallway,
Kagura following behind her. Kaiki shook his head in amusement, then
walked
off towards his office. He had a shift at the hospital tonight. Perhaps
he
would learn more about what had happened to Takazuchiya Zen.
***
"How could he still be working against you?" Koron asked, eyes widening
in
horror. Her hands were clenched in the fabric of her loose skirt, and
she
could feel the nails digging into her skin. It was impossible. It had
to be
impossible.
Chiaki leaned forward, the suspicion and anger that had been present
upon
his face now gone. His voice was rough as he began to speak. "How does
one
kill an aspect of God?" he asked, entirely solemn. His hand, she saw,
was
still entwined in Maron's, for mutual comfort.
"Mother, I didn't kill the Devil. I... I don't know exactly what I did."
A
futile wave of her daughter's hand indicated Maron's lack of complete
understanding. "I couldn't get rid of God's unhappiness fully..." Her
voice
dropped in sorrow. Koron could only watch helplessly as what should
have
been her right -- to comfort her only child -- fall to a man who was
barely
known to her.
It hurt to know that that child had grown away from her.
Maron had been a happy child, a bright spot in their life. Her smiles
had
brought laughter to quiet Takumi, delight to herself. And they'd left,
and
those smiles had been lost. There was nothing to be done, she knew,
but to
try to become a part of her daughter's life once again. She looked
down at
her hands, their shape blurring from gathering tears. "Maron, it never
was
your fault," she said shakily, looking up once again. "Nothing could
be."
Koron was startled to see a smile, wan though it was, appear upon her
daughter's face. "You are the second person to have told me that today,"
Maron said, releasing her hold upon Chiaki and standing up. "Miyako
said
the same thing." She tugged self-consciously at the shirt she was wearing,
smiling down at her mother. "And I know that it's true. But things
still
hurt. Like..." The smile wavered, then disappeared. "Father doesn't
understand. Something is making him not understand."
Chiaki stood up, offering Maron a bright smile. All the recklessness
that
he'd shown earlier had returned, along with a slight hint of mischief.
Koron had to choke down a sudden hysterical giggle; he was not only
bare-chested, but barefoot. Certainly not prepared to go out and fight
battles against the Devil and an angry, disillusioned father. His hand
shot
up in the air, and, as Maron watched him quizzically, he announced,
"Kaitou
Sindbad will force the evil spirit out of the fair lady's father! But-"
He
paused, holding his index finger upright. "-first, let me just get
dressed."
That was when Maron hit him with a pillow, her laughter a twin to Koron's.
Through her mirth, Koron watched the pair fight gently. Indeed, her
child
had grown up, and was a child no longer. There was an aspect of fated
love
in their lives, and that love was the sort to never die.
***
Takumi watched Minazuki stalk out the doors, feeling the most desolate
he
had in years. Rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion, he saw his reflection
in
the night-mirrored glass; his hair was dishevelled, his eyes shadowed,
with
grim lines drawing his lips downwards.
A couple steps brought him to the glassed-in lobby, next to the doors.
The
coolness of the glass against his forehead was soothing, and the normal
world outside was so tempting.
"But it's not a normal world," he said aloud, stepping away from the
glass
and looking longingly at the elevator. It would be so easy to just
give in
and say that he was sorry, but pride -- and a certain lingering anger
and
shame -- wouldn't allow him to take the easy way out. Self-flagellation,
he
mused, was really quite tempting.
The soft ping of the elevator behind him drew his thoughts back to the
world. As Miyako stepped out, the same irrational urge to grab her
and
demand information siezed Takumi, forcing his hands into fists.
Miyako turned to face him, and the urge disappeared. Traces of tears
still
lingered on her cheeks, and her purple eyes were strained and red.
He
watched as her expression changed from open pain to a closed mask;
she'd
seen him standing there, watching her. She lifted her chin and strode
past
him, heading for the doors.
Perplexed at the sudden change, Takumi almost missed the sudden mis-step
as
Miyako's ankle twisted under her, drawing a pained grimace through
her
frozen expression. The next step didn't come; he had quickly offered
her
his arm, unsure as to exactly why. It was, after all, clear that she
didn't
want to speak to him. Hell, he wasn't sure if he wanted to speak to
himself.
"Toudaiji-san?" he asked, looking down at her wary face. "Are you all
right?" The courtesy was comfortable, keeping his mind away from Maron
and
Koron and the irrational hurt and anger that thoughts of them would
bring
to the surface. "What happened?"
Myriad flickers of emotion crossed her face as Takumi just stood there,
watching. Hurt, pain, sadness, wistful longing -- they almost mirrored
his
feelings, in a way. "Nothing. I'm fine, Kusakabe-san. Please just let
me
go." She had turned her head away from him, and her voice was wavering
as
though tears were soon to follow.
A split-second decision forced all thought of painful emotion away from
him. Takumi offered Miyako a smile, strained though it was. "Come,
come,
Toudaiji-san, let's go find that young man that just stormed out of
here. I
have to apologize to him."
"Ya-Linchou?" Miyako had turned back to him, leaning a bit more weight
upon
his arm. "I don't... I don't want to see him, really, Kusakabe-san."
She
wiped at her eyes surreptiously with a corner of her sleeve, and Takumi's
smile faltered slightly. She was definitely hurting as much as he was,
and
the anger that he'd felt earlier had been completely destroyed.
***
Somewhere, a solid mass of darkness cursed angrily, shrinking into itself.
What little power it still had had gone into manipulating the human's
pain
and hurt, and it had just slipped out of his grasp. The plan was ruined.
In the same place, a small ball of light watched the darkness sadly.
She
could do nothing for any of those she loved.
***
Minazuki stared up at the cloudy night, shivering slightly in the chill.
The undersides of the clouds looked orange from the glow of the city
lights, unlike the star-filled blackness it had been the night before.
He
was a glutton for self-punishment, sitting by the cold water of a fountain
in the middle of the night, but the soft splash of water on marble
was
soothing, though it didn't help the angry whirlwind of thoughts that
plagued him.
He looked up at a carving of an angel, her arms wrapped around a jar
of
water that endlessly spilled into the bowl below. "Ah, why am I here,
of
all places?" he asked rhetorically. The sound of his own voice blended
into
the fountain's music, coaxing him to continue. "Toudaiji-san doesn't
understand that I really do..." His voice dropped to a mere whisper,
which
was somehow louder than his earlier speech had been. "... love her."
The memory of her light steps as she danced along the edge of this very
fountain brought a flush to his cheeks, and he looked down at his hands.
"Is this what Nagoya-kun meant by always wanting to be with Maron-san
and
to be touching her? That he loves her?"
He looked up at the angel again, envying the ever-serene expression
upon
her face. Minazuki Yamato, class president and perfect student, head
of his
class and all-around geek, could never be so perfectly happy. No human
could do anything but search for happiness -- for real happiness, he
mused,
could never be found save in brief moments.
"So cynical for one so young." It was a new voice, that. A man, half-hidden
in the shadows on the other side of the fountain, was watching him.
He
stepped out into the low light, a slight smile playing about his lips.
"I
have nothing to gain from helping you, but I might, all the same."
He'd said it all aloud, apparently. Minazuki's eyes narrowed slightly,
his
jaw tightening. Shikaidou Hijiri was not one to be trusted, to be sure.
There had been more to Maron's tale than she'd said, he knew. And it
involved this man. "Why would you, of all people, want to help me?"
Shikaidou -- Noin, for that was who he was, really -- stepped forward,
that
half-smile still upon his face. "Because you now know about Jeanne,
I take
it. And because..." A wry smile replaced the mocking one. "The human
left
in me has raised its ugly head. Jeanne would be happy if her friends
are
happy."
That was an unexpected turn. Minazuki stared up at the taller man for
a
moment, frowning. "And if I do know, Shikaidou-sensei? Why would you
want
to see Maron-san happy?" He shifted away from Noin, glancing up at
the
water falling from the angel's jar. Every bit of logic rebelled against
trusting Noin, and so, trust him he wouldn't.
Noin perched upon the edge of the fountain, amusement trickling into
his
voice. "Because, in spite of the fact that she loves a brat that will
never
understand her true worth, I still love her. And I am no longer ruled
by
someone with plans to hurt her." The last sentence was in a harsher
tone,
and Minazuki felt a small piece of logic crumble to emotion.
"Tell me, Minazuki-kun, would you ever want to see Toudaiji-san unhappy
for
any reason?" Another piece of logic fell as he considered the question.
He wanted more than anything to have Miyako with him, to be cherished
and
loved by her and for him to love in return. But... it hurt him to see
her
in pain. Any tear tore at him, and any unhappiness in her eyes drove
him to
distraction. "No," he said flatly.
Noin nodded, a gesture more felt than truly seen in the darkness. The
clouds were dispersing, and with them, the reflected light of the city.
"Then you understand why I want to see Jeanne happy. And-" He smiled,
a
real smile that made him seem more human, in spite of what Minazuki
knew to
be true. "-why I want to help you."
"Your situation is not all that different from mine, in fact," Noin
said,
glancing briefly up at the stars. Did he see the same things that every
other human did? The scientist in Minazuki was speaking up, and he
firmly
quashed it as the other man continued softly. "The one you love so
dearly
is in love with someone else, and thinks there is no space in her heart
to
love another."
Confusion spread across Minazuki's face, and Noin apparently noticed,
for
he sighed and shook his head. "Think about it."
He bolted upright, a flush spreading across his face as he stuttered.
"Miyako-san isn't like that! Maron-san is the most important person
to her,
but she doesn't love her like that!" he said, stammering over the words
in
his haste to deny what was gradually becoming more clear. He sat down
as
quickly as he'd gotten up, head in his hands. "She doesn't. But she
doesn't
know that the love she has for Maron-san is not the only real love
she can
have."
Oh, it was painfully obvious now. And even more painful was the fact
that
he had attempted to make it clear to Miyako and had been rebuffed by
the
hurt he'd caused.
"You see, then," Noin said, his voice expressionless. Minazuki was grateful
for that; sympathy at that moment would have made the pain worse. "The
difference in our situations, however, is that Toudaiji-san has begun
to
realize that Jeanne has found the one she wishes to be with. Also,
Toudaiji-san knows that she can like another person. She believes she
can't
truly love them, and that, Minazuki-kun, is what you must change."
***
Noin watched the boy struggle with the idea, then gradually accept it.
His
heart, long corrupted by the demon though it was, hurt. It was a strange
sensation, after so long of running on pure hope and the power of the
Devil.
Perhaps it was the fall of the Devil that made his heart feel human
once
again.
"Thank you, Noin." The soft words drew him out of his reverie, focusing
upon the boy once again. It was startling to hear his real name come
from
someone truly not connected to Jeanne and his past, and it, surprisingly
enough, made his human side warm further to the young man. "And I'm
sorry
for what had to happen to you."
Long-held cynicism and anger against the human race cracked at the words,
spoken by a mere youth. An apology from someone who had no reason to
apologize, save that he was a part of a world that had caused such
pain,
held a certain power. "Thank you," he said, surprised at the lack of
hoarseness in his voice. "Now, go and find Toudaiji-san."
As the boy left, Noin faded back into the shadows, slipping into his
demon
form to watch him go. There was much to think about -- the resolve
and
anger that had driven him for so long had little meaning now.
***
"Kusakabe-san," Miyako said, slipping her arm out of his when they were
a
scant hundred metres from the small cafe Maron had taken them to earlier
in
the day. She needed an answer, and it was time to ask. "Why do you
hate
Chiaki?" She stood, a silhouette against the glow from the buildings,
awaiting his response.
He had stopped, a frown creasing his forehead as he looked over his
shoulder at her. He seemed puzzled. "He..." Takumi paused, hand creeping
up
to rub at his temples. "Maron is my daughter. He's taken that away
from
me."
Miyako started to protest -- no-one could take away the biological ties
between father and daughter -- but he held up a hand, the words coming
in
more of a rush. "He -- and you -- have been there when I should have.
Maron
doesn't need me anymore. She doesn't need Koron, and she doesn't need
us to
be here to help her and to love her. I hate him because of that. She
was my
daughter, the one child who could make me smile even when I felt that
I'd
never be good enough for anything. And that boy has her smiles now,
and I
don't."
She stood, stunned, as he paced angrily, his voice tightly controlled.
A
small gust of wind tugged at her hair, then ruffled his coat, and he
stopped his furious action, looking up through the city lights to the
stars
above. "God, it's not fair, because we don't even know why we left.
And
that, Toudaiji-san, hurts the most."
His voice had dropped to a mere whisper as the wind continued to swirl
around them, light gusts occasionally picking up a stray leaf and carrying
it away. Compassion flooded Miyako, but she remained silent for a moment.
Sometimes, a friend had to be like a surgeon, inflicting a little pain
to
spare a person from the greater. "Tell me, Kusakabe-san-" She had put
as
much ice into her voice as she dared, stepping towards him in even,
measured paces. "-is it the fact that Maron has been risking her life
for
God and Chiaki what scares you, and makes you hate? And that Chiaki
was the
one to save her, not you, her father?"
The wind gusted suddenly, her hair flickering across her eyes as she
lifted
a hand to tap Takumi's chest. She allowed the compassion and empathy
to
show in her expression as she continued. "Maron told me that her parents
had been manipulated by the Devil to forget their daughter, to leave
and
cause as much pain as they could. Kusakabe-san, you were wrong to hurt
Maron that way, and to accuse her."
Through the tirade, her mind returned to Minazuki, his pain at her
rejection clearly printed upon his face. Miyako's final words dropped
off
into a whisper, the truth therein sweeping her doubt away like a leaf
upon
the breeze. "And I was wrong, too." She could barely hear her own words
over the sudden rush of wind and the pounding of her heart.
Takumi was watching her, his face pale and his eyes widened with pain.
"Manipulated? All those years, away from both of them, and now I learn
that
I was manipulated?" His face twisted, and Miyako shed her own despair
to
try to help him out of his.
"Everyone around Maron was, Kusakabe-san. Chiaki-" He winced, and she
took
his hand, squeezing it tightly. "-was manipulated by me, while I was
possessed. I hurt Maron when I was possessed. Someone who had been
very
close to Maron, who had helped her become who she was, betrayed her.
Had
always been betraying her. No-one around Maron was left untouched by
it.
And you were a part of it, no more, no less."
***
No more, no less. The words hit a chord deep within Takumi, a sudden
lifting of his soul that brought with it the ease of forgiveness. Self-pity
and punishment were left behind. "Thank you, Toudaiji-san."
He had still hurt Maron. He had doubted her, and tried to build a cage
around her, when she was the very thing that brought freedom, in truth.
"Toudaiji-san," he said, musing slightly, "Have you heard the tale
that the
wind is God's sigh, that it brings hope to the world?"
She smiled through the pain that he could still see lurking in the back
of
her eyes, and nodded. "Maron is that wind, isn't she?" It was not a
question, rather, a statement of fact. Miyako released his hand and
stepped
away, spreading out her arms in the now-steady breeze. "I always thought
she was far too graceful for her own good." There was wry amusement
in that
comment. "Gymnastics, you know. She loves gymnastics."
He smiled. Such details were precious in a way; he knew very little
about
who his daughter was, he realized. Clearing his throat, he offered
his arm
to Miyako. "Now. Shall we go find Maron? Or should we look for that
young
man you seem so fond of?" Something akin to a grin replaced his smile
at
the sudden pink tinge in the girl's cheeks.
She seemed to notice his amusement, for she put her hands on her hips
and
stared at him. "You-" she said, tapping his chest with one firm finger,
"-should find Maron and Chiaki and apologize. I can find linchou on
my own.
I am a detective, and a very good one."
"Thank you, Toudaiji-san. For everything." They parted ways under the
yellow glow of a streetlamp, with the wind following their steps.
***
A soundless howl of anger and pain resounded over the misty darkness
that
hid the two of them. The ball of pure darkness contracted upon itself,
a
wounded, powerless entity that could no longer even touch the world.
The
light expanded a small amount, moving slowly towards the darkness.
She --
for the light was female -- held the memories of a life that both loved
and
hated this darkness, and she would not abandon him until her time came
to
melt forever into oblivion.
Fin Fish loved life far too much to ever give up entirely to death.
***
Suffice it to say, Kaiki was confused. The data from the small transmitter
Zen had been forced to wear had shown rapid heartbeats, steady and
smooth,
and then had simply stopped, though he had continued to breathe. And
then,
his heart had started again, as though whatever had stopped it had
disappeared from the face of the earth. And this was especially suspicious
when one took into account the fact that the painting above Zen's bed
had
disappeared.
The heartbeat had been abnormal, with an odd murmur. Kaiki sighed heavily,
resting his chin upon his hands as he studied the charts.
He'd known that Maron had taken Zen out, but had not said a word. He
knew
that there was something his son's love had been hiding, and it was
related
to this. "So why would his heart stop, then restart with no other signs
of
a heart attack?" he said aloud, leaning back in his chair. There was
a
correlation somewhere, and he would find it.
The painting! Bolting upright, Kaiki reached into his file drawer,
withdrawing a set of handwritten notes. The safest place to keep these
had
been his work, and therefore he'd been unable to give them to Koron
when
she'd asked for information. Times, dates, observations -- these were
his
personal notes on Kaitou Sindbad.
Reaching the page he wanted, he scanned through the notes, then nodded
sharply. Kaitou Sindbad's work did not replace the painting; it left
it as
a blank canvas. It was a shaky foundation to build upon, but it was
better
than what he'd had.
He turned the page to a blank sheet of paper, reaching for a pen. If
Zen
had been possessed by a demon, and that demon had been too strong for
the
boy's body -- it could account for the heart failure. Then, Kaitou
Sindbad
had sealed the demon away, allowing Zen's heart to beat again for the
small
amount of time that the strain of his exertions had left him before
he
died.
He set the notebook down, flipping to a random page and running a hand
through his hair out of sheer exhaustion. A sheet of paper had fallen
to
the floor from his earlier rummaging. Kaiki picked it up, setting it
absently upon his desk, and started to read it. He almost filed it
away as
he began to read it, closing his eyes in remembered pain.
Chiaki's frantic voice, rougher and deeper than normal over the phone,
telling him to get an ambulance to Maron's apartment building as quickly
as
possible. His examination of her, the strain of realizing that she
was in a
coma, unlikely to wake up, and the knowledge that he would have to
tell his
son that the person he loved before any other wasn't going to come
back.
And the memories of his own wife dying in a similar way, never waking
up.
The date of his notes caught his eye, and the correlation with the
almost-capture of Kaitou Sindbad. A flicker of some forgotten memory
-- a
brief flash of a bloodied Chiaki and then a frantic Sindbad after an
explosion of some sort -- pushed him onward, and he dove into his notes,
finding more and more evidence for what he had already suspected --
but had
not wanted -- to be true.
Chiaki was Sindbad. And therefore, Maron was Jeanne.
The real question was... would he be right to confront them about it?
***
A knock at the door disturbed their planning; Chiaki watched Maron peek
through the spyhole and pause, glancing over her shoulder at the pair
of
them. He smiled at her, and she turned back to the door, carefully
unlocking it and letting it swing inwards.
Kusakabe Takumi stood framed by the hallway's lights, looking tired,
but
happy. Chiaki stood up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "What-"
"Chiaki," Maron said soothingly, gesturing for her father to enter the
apartment. He grumbled, but sat down again, folding his arms across
his
chest and staring at the older man. It was only after Takumi had taken
a
seat next to Koron, absently reaching for her hand in a gesture that
was so
familiar, and yet he couldn't place it.
"I came back..." Takumi stopped, cleared his throat, then continued
doggedly. "... to tell you that I should never have said what I did,
nor
doubted you, Maron. Nor you, Nagoya-san." The formality startled Chiaki
into sitting down next to Maron, whereupon she leaned her head against
his
shoulder.
"What I said... I don't even know why I said it. And I don't know if
I can
forgive myself for saying it, much less expect you to forgive me,"
Takumi
said, gesturing with his free hand towards them as Maron sat up, her
eyes
filling with tears. "And... Nagoya-san, I cannot thank you enough for
being
here... and saving Maron's life." The last words seemed more painful
to say
than any of the others.
It was tacit approval of their relationship, Chiaki understood. He'd
never
told anyone save his father -- and that had been half in jest -- his
plans
for his life: his wish to marry Maron and find that happiness he knew
she
was looking for and the hope of helping people by becoming a doctor
had
always come second to his God-given mission. It no longer did. He leaned
forward, no hint of humor in his expression. "I love Maron. If you
do
anything to hurt her so much again, may God have mercy on your soul."
"Chiaki!" The protest brought a very reluctant smile to his lips. Maron was
hauling him backwards, her eyes angry and her lips set in a firm line.
"Access wouldn't like this. I forgave my parents. You should, too."
There
were only the faintest traces of tears in her eyes and on her cheeks.
"Chiaki-kun," Koron said, smiling at him through her own tears, "I never
had a chance to thank you, too. For saving Maron's smiles. And for
loving
her when we weren't able to."
He merely nodded in reply, taking comfort in Maron's closeness. Things
had
changed once again... for the better.
***
Minazuki looked up at the apartment building, the orange glow of the
interior lights blocking out all but the brightest stars overhead.
He'd
been standing there for several minutes, simply looking up at the balcony
that led to Miyako's room, unwilling to take the step that would finally
close the chapter of his and Miyako's friendship. Whether it would
lead
into something else entirely... would be up to her.
He'd barely started towards the lit doors when a call from behind drew
his
attention. "Yamato! Wait!" Miyako. She'd been looking for him, and
she'd
forgiven him. Self-doubt faded into the maelstrom of emotion within
him,
leaving only the slightly bitter tang of its passing.
She stopped only a few steps away from him, breathing heavily from her run.
She was flushed, more so than would be normal for a simple run. "Yamato,
I'm so sorry. I shouldn't've doubted you, ever, but I did," she said,
her
purple eyes fixing upon his face.
"Miyako..." Again, the happiness that small freedom -- the use of her
name
-- gave him washed over him, dimming the worry to nothingness. He turned
slightly red, looking down at his hands. The next step would be difficult.
"Miyako, can I ask you something?"
The perplexed nod she gave him was answer enough. "What is 'love' to
you?"
he asked, the embarrassment having faded. It was important to know.
She watched him for a moment, suspicion, worry, unhappiness and then
dawning comprehension flickering across her face. "Love...? Real love
is
worrying about another person's life more than your own. Their happiness
over yours. But..." Here, her voice dropped off to a whisper, and he
reached instinctively for her hand. "... love can only be for one person,
really."
"No, you're wrong." He held her hand between both of his, warming it
and
savoring the contact. It was Miyako, the one he'd come to admire, and
now,
to adore. "Love doesn't have boundaries. It's not a single thing. You
love
your family. You love Maron-san. Both are real love." Her hand had
slipped
from his, the shock of realization having made her face pale. "And..."
Now,
the embarrassment returned full-force. "I love you, Miyako."
"But... you can't really love me! You love Maron." Her protests were
met by
his firm denial. He knew his answer on this. Miyako shook her head,
tears
beginning to fill her eyes. At this, Minazuki's doubts made themselves
known; his confession had hurt her, and he'd hurt her... and it wasn't
supposed to happen like this. "But I hurt you. I..." The tears overflowed,
and something within Minazuki ached.
He closed the distance between them, gently wrapping his arms around
her as
she cried. It was the last act of their friendship together, he knew.
And
oh, how it hurt to know that. Even the gentle breeze, touched with
the warm
scent of a summer night, didn't ease that ache. The only thing he could
do
was to hold her and whisper, "I'm so sorry."
Miyako's tears slowly dried, and her sobs died down. She remained in
his
arms, her face buried in his light coat. Slowly, so slowly, she looked
up,
her eyes red-rimmed but still beautiful. He braced himself for the
rejection of all that he wished and hoped for. "I'm so sorry, Yamato.
I
didn't know..." A small piece of his heart shattered. She looked down
again, then shyly back up. He caught his breath at the tiny smile upon
her
face. "I didn't know I could love anyone else."
The ache that he'd been trying to hide vanished at her words. Minazuki
tightened his hold around Miyako, smiling brightly -- she was his!
After so
long, she was his! -- before kissing her gently on her brow, delighting
in
his very ability to do so.
***
Kaiki was reaching for his coat as Yashiro popped her head into the
hallway,
her eyes fastening upon him. There was a happy glint in her eyes, and
her
hair was mussed, as though she'd been out in the wind. "Chiaki and
Kusakabe-san and her parents are here," she said, reaching for his
arm.
She'd started simply using Chiaki's name, he noticed. She'd grown up
more
than he'd thought.
The notes dropped to his desk with a swish of paper as Yashro hauled
him
almost bodily out of the room. He chuckled, gently freeing his arm.
"Much
as I love running down hallways with beautiful women, Yashiro-chan,
I
think that our guests would like a bit more... decorum than that,"
he said,
his tone merry as he patted her hand gently. She turned slightly pink.
They walked along, passing the painting. It'd become all the more
significant than ever now that he knew her secret. Yashiro glanced
quizzically at him, and he merely shook his head. "It's nothing. Shall
we?"
He gestured towards the sitting room of the suite that Takumi and Koron
were occupying.
They knocked at the door, and, receiving a reply, entered. "Chiaki,
I found
him," Yashiro trilled, a faintly sly grin on her face. And, as quickly
as
she'd come, she left, closing the door behind her.
The meaning behind the rosary pendant at Maron's neck had also become
clearer than before, as well as Chiaki's constantly protective air.
It was
also understandable, then, that Takumi and Koron looked rather drawn
and
tired, the weariness in their eyes spotted with almost clinical detachment.
Kaiki held up a hand as his son opened his mouth, a faint smile on his
lips. He'd decided the moment he'd stepped into the room: he would
ask no
questions.
"Nagoya-san, we want to thank you." This was Takumi, breaking the tenuous
silence
with his soft words. "So much of what has happened has been because
we weren't
there to help. And you were. And your son... did more than we could
ever repay."
The admission clearly startled Chiaki; he straightened from his casual
position against
one wall, staring at Takumi blankly. Kaiki smothered the urge to chuckle.
Maron stood up and walked across the room, her eyes glowing with happiness.
She
leaned close, wrapping her arms around him in a spontaneous hug. He
stood, frozen in
place, as he felt her lips brush his cheek gently. Her voice, too,
betrayed her emotions
-- joy dominated, followed by suppressed mirth and the tiniest hint
of empathy. "I, too,
have to thank you for so much," she whispered simply, then released
him with a smile.
He must've looked a fool, standing there with a hand to his cheek and
looking rather
stunned. Maron, still smiling, turned back to her parents. "I want
to show you what's
changed," she said, offering them her hands. Kaiki broke out of his
frozen state, a
slow smile stealing across his features. Maron was happy. Truly happy.
As they left, Chiaki started to follow them, then paused. Maron didn't
even look back;
she seemed to have expected it. The door shut behind Maron and her
parents, and
Chiaki turned back to his father, his hands stuck in his pockets, the
very picture of
discomfort. "Oyaji..."
"I won't ask."
"Thank you."
"I got a kiss from Maron-chan!" This was a calculated attempt at cutting
through the
suddenly choked atmosphere. The faintly murderous light in Chiaki's
eyes told him that
it'd worked. Hastily -- for he had no wish to be picked up by the scruff
of his neck
again -- Kaiki changed the subject. "Have you asked her yet?"
Chiaki looked out the window, one hand resting upon the wall beside
it. "No. I- we're..."
He shook his head, frustration evident in his choppy gestures towards
the night sky outside.
"I want to wait... until everything has settled. I've never waited
for anything before-"
A rueful note entered his voice. "-but I have to now. Oyaji-" He turned
back, spreading his
hands in front of him. "-I want to be a doctor. I want to help people."
To help instead of hurt. To replace instead of steal. Kaiki closed his
eyes, nodding.
"I understand." It was the second time they'd been in complete understanding
since Mizuki
had died, and hopefully the beginning of their family once again.
***
***
They were all sitting out in front of the Nagoya mansion, sprawled lazily
upon lawn chairs or
upon the ground, enjoying the clear weather. The final years of high
school had wrought very few
changes in the four of them; Miyako's hair was longer, as was Maron's,
and Yamato had grown
far taller, but they were, in essence, the same as they'd been in those
final days of Kaitou Jeanne.
A ring sparkled on Miyako's hand, a small setting of sapphire in gold.
Maron was curled up on one of the lawn chairs, toying with a red rose
and talking with Miyako.
"And your father is letting you into the Forensics training program?
That's lucky, Miyako --
you'll be one of the greatest detectives in the world."
The other woman sighed, plucking absently at the grass. "I won't be
able to actually work until I
finish the training, though. And..." She paused, holding up her hand
to the light so that it sparkled
off the stone. "... there's always this to consider."
Yamato looked over, setting the article he'd been browsing aside. "I
would hope you'd consider it,
Miyako-/san/," he said, adding the honorific with the teasing note
he was prone to these days.
"Or I would worry."
Miyako looked down at the grass once again, twisting a few green strands
between her fingers. It
was logical, truly, for her to go into police work; she was expected
to, having been so involved at
such a young age. But was it truly what she wanted to do? "Only time
will tell," she murmured, letting
the blades drift away on the light wind.
Maron watched her knowingly, her eyes solemn as the blades drifted off.
It was difficult to know where
to go next; they'd left the world of teenagers and high school behind.
It was different now that there
were no jobs to be done, and no dangers to be braved.
A shadow blotted out the sunlight, and a sudden weight next to her on
the lawn chair brought a smile to
her lips. Automatically, she reached for his hand, and his arm slipped
around her waist. "I could tell you
that there's not enough space on this chair for both of us, Chiaki,"
she said teasingly, dropping the rose
to the ground.
"And I could tell you that you're lying," came his reply. "Of course
there's enough room for both of us.
There always is."
"Hmm. There always is, isn't there?"
*** Owari ***
This is dedicated to Meimi-chan, my dearest imouto and the best prereader
ever to see any bit of my
work. I couldn't've written this as well as it turned out without all
her input, and I would've written my-
self into a hole so many times if she hadn't been there to help me.
If any of you, dear readers, feel that I've made a mistake or any flaws,
please drop me a note at
keani@hydrid.com, or... see that little box down there? Fill it. Or
send me lots and lots of compliments!
I love compliments, and I love constructive criticism.
Yes, there's still an epilogue to come in, involving a series of vignettes
with all the characters. Pure fluff
and fun things, mostly.
