Tracks
By Riffraff (the artist formerly known as Distant Sky King)
vera@nerv-9.net
"Excuse me," a familiar voice said. "May I sit down?"
Michiru blinked in surprise. Haruka was in bed with a cold! What was she doing wandering the city streets?
Her gaze snapped up to meet that of a boy no more than fourteen years old, still dressed in the nondescript black and white of his school uniform. He held an overstuffed bag with both hands and watched her while patiently awaiting a reply. It wasn't Haruka. Ever one to maintain the outward appearance of unruffled calm, Michiru settled her momentary flash of irritation by straightening a fold in her skirt and smiled at him slightly. She was apparently imagining things.
"Of course," she said.
"Thank you," he replied simply and sat on the bench beside her.
There it was again. It was uncanny how much he sounded like her. Studying him carefully he appeared to be a normal young man with common brown hair and painful, sorrowful green eyes. She recognized the pain in them for what it was, and something to which she was familiar with seeing in Haruka when they first met. She knew what had caused it in Haruka, but what was a boy like this doing with that much hurt?
"Excuse me," he said again, "but you don't look like someone who should frown."
Michiru arched an eyebrow, unaware that she'd been frowning. "Oh?" she asked, amused. "And who are you, who is so wise in the hearts of women?"
He blushed and lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Realizing he was far gentler than he appeared, Michiru felt a bit of shame at her trite words. "No, I'm sorry," she said. "You're right; I don't often frown. How could you tell?"
"No wrinkles," he replied sheepishly.
Michiru gazed at him levelly for a moment before smiling lightly. "Very observant," she appraised, "but didn't your mother ever tell you it's not polite to comment on a lady's wrinkles?"
The boy blushed again but didn't say anything, and once again Michiru found herself wondering about him. Most children these days were taught to be strong, self-reliant individuals with square jaws and iron will, but this strange, shy boy appeared to be anything but. Come to think of it, it was strange to see a boy on the city streets at all. Most had either been evacuated or moved with their families since the disaster and to her knowledge only one school in the city remained open. And to find him at a train station alone with a single packed bag...her intuition told her he was running away from something. Didn't anyone care where he was?
"Where are you going?" she asked.
He looked up at her quickly and cleared his throat. "I don't know," he murmured. "South, I guess."
Michiru nodded slowly, watching him all the while. "You don't look like someone who should frown, either," she noted.
"What?"
"No wrinkles."
"I'm a kid."
"Only adults can frown?"
He looked at her suspiciously. "No, only adults get wr--" he stopped suddenly and blushed, facing the ground again. "I understand now. I'm sorry."
Michiru smiled genuinely at him. He was a sweet boy; why was he sitting here alone with such a look of woe on his face? "No apologies necessary, young man," she told him gently.
"Where are you going?" he asked suddenly, looking at her.
"South as well."
He nodded. "Performing in Atsugi?" he asked.
"Yes, on Friday night. I have a--" she stopped short and stared at the boy. "You know who I am?"
He blushed again and grinned sheepishly. "I have all your albums," he admitted, somehow managing to deepen the color in his cheeks. "I listen to your Bach album all the time, especially 'Jesus Bleibet Meine Freude' and 'Cello Suite Number One.'" He self-consciously started playing with a pebble by his foot. "I'm really happy you arranged the suite for violin. It was always my favorite."
Michiru was impressed. She'd always felt classical music was lost on the day's youth and to find such appreciation in this strange boy at a train station... "Do you play?" she asked.
He nodded. "A little. Cello."
"And you're not bringing it with you?"
The smile fell immediately from his face and he resumed staring at his feet. "I won't need it where I'm going," he murmured.
"What are you running away from?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied quickly.
"Now, now," she said with a reassuring smile, "we musicians never leave our instruments for long. They're part of our souls."
There was a pregnant pause as the boy appeared to wrestle with his thoughts while the ever-present buzz of the cicadas in the midday heat seemed to lengthen the lull into an unbearable stretch. Michiru could feel small beads of sweat collect under the collar of her blouse and she shifted uncomfortably, waiting. Then he broke.
"I'm a coward."
To say she was shocked would have been an understatement. "How can a boy with such beautiful music in his heart be a coward?" she asked, bewildered.
"Because I am," he continued. "I'm a worthless, good for nothing coward who can't even face his own father!" Tears started streaming down his face and Michiru resisted the urge to reach out and hug him. She didn't know how he'd feel about a stranger putting her arms about him, no matter how well-known she was. Her heart went out to him. But as quickly as the tears began, they stopped. He scrubbed his cheeks with the back of his hand before Michiru could fish a handkerchief out of her purse, but she handed it to him anyway. He took it gratefully and held it in his hands as he continued staring at the ground.
Maybe a verbal hug would do. "Did you ever learn about Sailor Moon in school?" she asked him.
"Of course," he replied sullenly. "She saved the world."
"Did your teachers ever tell you that prior to saving the world she was a cowardly crybaby who would rather eat sweets and fawn over her boyfriend than fight for love and justice?"
He looked at her as if weighing her words for the truth, but then his green eyes widened. "She was really all that?" he breathed.
Michiru nodded.
"What happened?" he demanded. "How could she save the world like that?"
"She had people who loved and believed in her. When you have that, even the most cowardly can find their true, strong selves."
The boy continued looking at her for any sign of insincerity, but then turned to face the ground again and nodded slowly, lost in thought once more.
The intercom crackled to life overhead with a young female voice. "An express linear train for Atsugi is arriving on track two. Please be careful to step back behind the yellow line."
Michiru stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. "That's my train," she informed him. "Will you be on it?"
"The train on track two is a special train, exclusively for government personnel. General passengers are forbidden to enter within the fences," the woman droned on. "Anyone without permission is absolutely forbidden to board."
"But you're not government personnel," the boy noted.
"Fame does have its perks."
Moments later the screeching sound of the braking train assaulted their ears and it hissed coolly as it halted before them, doors opening. Michiru picked up her single suitcase and violin, and looked to the boy expectantly. She half wished he would accompany her to Atsugi so she could learn more about him, but also hoped he'd stay and face whatever it was he was escaping. She didn't understand why, but she felt he was a very important youth and desperately needed where he was. Above all that, someone out there loved and would miss him. She broke her gaze, closed her eyes, and stepped aboard. She heard the soft sound of a bag scraping against concrete, and footsteps. The door slid shut. Was he behind her?
"A local train bound for Gora will be arriving on track four shortly. Be careful to step back behind the yellow line. If you are accompanied by little children, please watch them carefully."
A dark-haired woman climbed out of her car across the tracks and watched helplessly as the train pulled out of the station. She closed her eyes even before it completely left and heaved a sigh, leaning against her car for support. Saddened, she looked up toward the platform and immediately caught her breath.
"On track four is the local train which is turning back to Gora. If you are taking this train, please wait within it."
On the platform the boy stood erect, head bowed, bag held firmly in his hands before him. Sensing someone watching him he looked down toward the parking lot and froze.
"Attention! The train will be arriving soon. Please step back behind the yellow line."
The cicadas buzzed.
"I'm back," he whispered.
"Welcome home," the woman breathed.
Note:
Sailor Moon/Neon Genesis Evangelion crossover based on episode 4 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
Comments: vera@nerv-9.net
By Riffraff (the artist formerly known as Distant Sky King)
vera@nerv-9.net
"Excuse me," a familiar voice said. "May I sit down?"
Michiru blinked in surprise. Haruka was in bed with a cold! What was she doing wandering the city streets?
Her gaze snapped up to meet that of a boy no more than fourteen years old, still dressed in the nondescript black and white of his school uniform. He held an overstuffed bag with both hands and watched her while patiently awaiting a reply. It wasn't Haruka. Ever one to maintain the outward appearance of unruffled calm, Michiru settled her momentary flash of irritation by straightening a fold in her skirt and smiled at him slightly. She was apparently imagining things.
"Of course," she said.
"Thank you," he replied simply and sat on the bench beside her.
There it was again. It was uncanny how much he sounded like her. Studying him carefully he appeared to be a normal young man with common brown hair and painful, sorrowful green eyes. She recognized the pain in them for what it was, and something to which she was familiar with seeing in Haruka when they first met. She knew what had caused it in Haruka, but what was a boy like this doing with that much hurt?
"Excuse me," he said again, "but you don't look like someone who should frown."
Michiru arched an eyebrow, unaware that she'd been frowning. "Oh?" she asked, amused. "And who are you, who is so wise in the hearts of women?"
He blushed and lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Realizing he was far gentler than he appeared, Michiru felt a bit of shame at her trite words. "No, I'm sorry," she said. "You're right; I don't often frown. How could you tell?"
"No wrinkles," he replied sheepishly.
Michiru gazed at him levelly for a moment before smiling lightly. "Very observant," she appraised, "but didn't your mother ever tell you it's not polite to comment on a lady's wrinkles?"
The boy blushed again but didn't say anything, and once again Michiru found herself wondering about him. Most children these days were taught to be strong, self-reliant individuals with square jaws and iron will, but this strange, shy boy appeared to be anything but. Come to think of it, it was strange to see a boy on the city streets at all. Most had either been evacuated or moved with their families since the disaster and to her knowledge only one school in the city remained open. And to find him at a train station alone with a single packed bag...her intuition told her he was running away from something. Didn't anyone care where he was?
"Where are you going?" she asked.
He looked up at her quickly and cleared his throat. "I don't know," he murmured. "South, I guess."
Michiru nodded slowly, watching him all the while. "You don't look like someone who should frown, either," she noted.
"What?"
"No wrinkles."
"I'm a kid."
"Only adults can frown?"
He looked at her suspiciously. "No, only adults get wr--" he stopped suddenly and blushed, facing the ground again. "I understand now. I'm sorry."
Michiru smiled genuinely at him. He was a sweet boy; why was he sitting here alone with such a look of woe on his face? "No apologies necessary, young man," she told him gently.
"Where are you going?" he asked suddenly, looking at her.
"South as well."
He nodded. "Performing in Atsugi?" he asked.
"Yes, on Friday night. I have a--" she stopped short and stared at the boy. "You know who I am?"
He blushed again and grinned sheepishly. "I have all your albums," he admitted, somehow managing to deepen the color in his cheeks. "I listen to your Bach album all the time, especially 'Jesus Bleibet Meine Freude' and 'Cello Suite Number One.'" He self-consciously started playing with a pebble by his foot. "I'm really happy you arranged the suite for violin. It was always my favorite."
Michiru was impressed. She'd always felt classical music was lost on the day's youth and to find such appreciation in this strange boy at a train station... "Do you play?" she asked.
He nodded. "A little. Cello."
"And you're not bringing it with you?"
The smile fell immediately from his face and he resumed staring at his feet. "I won't need it where I'm going," he murmured.
"What are you running away from?" she asked.
"Nothing," he replied quickly.
"Now, now," she said with a reassuring smile, "we musicians never leave our instruments for long. They're part of our souls."
There was a pregnant pause as the boy appeared to wrestle with his thoughts while the ever-present buzz of the cicadas in the midday heat seemed to lengthen the lull into an unbearable stretch. Michiru could feel small beads of sweat collect under the collar of her blouse and she shifted uncomfortably, waiting. Then he broke.
"I'm a coward."
To say she was shocked would have been an understatement. "How can a boy with such beautiful music in his heart be a coward?" she asked, bewildered.
"Because I am," he continued. "I'm a worthless, good for nothing coward who can't even face his own father!" Tears started streaming down his face and Michiru resisted the urge to reach out and hug him. She didn't know how he'd feel about a stranger putting her arms about him, no matter how well-known she was. Her heart went out to him. But as quickly as the tears began, they stopped. He scrubbed his cheeks with the back of his hand before Michiru could fish a handkerchief out of her purse, but she handed it to him anyway. He took it gratefully and held it in his hands as he continued staring at the ground.
Maybe a verbal hug would do. "Did you ever learn about Sailor Moon in school?" she asked him.
"Of course," he replied sullenly. "She saved the world."
"Did your teachers ever tell you that prior to saving the world she was a cowardly crybaby who would rather eat sweets and fawn over her boyfriend than fight for love and justice?"
He looked at her as if weighing her words for the truth, but then his green eyes widened. "She was really all that?" he breathed.
Michiru nodded.
"What happened?" he demanded. "How could she save the world like that?"
"She had people who loved and believed in her. When you have that, even the most cowardly can find their true, strong selves."
The boy continued looking at her for any sign of insincerity, but then turned to face the ground again and nodded slowly, lost in thought once more.
The intercom crackled to life overhead with a young female voice. "An express linear train for Atsugi is arriving on track two. Please be careful to step back behind the yellow line."
Michiru stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. "That's my train," she informed him. "Will you be on it?"
"The train on track two is a special train, exclusively for government personnel. General passengers are forbidden to enter within the fences," the woman droned on. "Anyone without permission is absolutely forbidden to board."
"But you're not government personnel," the boy noted.
"Fame does have its perks."
Moments later the screeching sound of the braking train assaulted their ears and it hissed coolly as it halted before them, doors opening. Michiru picked up her single suitcase and violin, and looked to the boy expectantly. She half wished he would accompany her to Atsugi so she could learn more about him, but also hoped he'd stay and face whatever it was he was escaping. She didn't understand why, but she felt he was a very important youth and desperately needed where he was. Above all that, someone out there loved and would miss him. She broke her gaze, closed her eyes, and stepped aboard. She heard the soft sound of a bag scraping against concrete, and footsteps. The door slid shut. Was he behind her?
"A local train bound for Gora will be arriving on track four shortly. Be careful to step back behind the yellow line. If you are accompanied by little children, please watch them carefully."
A dark-haired woman climbed out of her car across the tracks and watched helplessly as the train pulled out of the station. She closed her eyes even before it completely left and heaved a sigh, leaning against her car for support. Saddened, she looked up toward the platform and immediately caught her breath.
"On track four is the local train which is turning back to Gora. If you are taking this train, please wait within it."
On the platform the boy stood erect, head bowed, bag held firmly in his hands before him. Sensing someone watching him he looked down toward the parking lot and froze.
"Attention! The train will be arriving soon. Please step back behind the yellow line."
The cicadas buzzed.
"I'm back," he whispered.
"Welcome home," the woman breathed.
Note:
Sailor Moon/Neon Genesis Evangelion crossover based on episode 4 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.
Comments: vera@nerv-9.net