Mireille in Japan, Chapter 3
Mireille took her time brushing her hair. She was beginning to regret pulling out those knots yesterday-already her hair was beginning to thin out, and she was just twenty-five years old. Crystal stood on the edge of the sink and watched her interestedly.
"You lucky thing, you hardly have to do anything for that gorgeous coat of gold."
Crystal mewed.
"I guess I'm stuck with you." She pulled a lock back and drew it into a tight French braid. In an effort to forget Kirika and build her new self, she had tried various hairstyles. Nothing fit her as well as the simple draping about her shoulders, but she didn't mind the braid.
Crystal mewed expectantly. Mireille sighed; she did hate having to hide the kitten in her bag, but how else was she going to get her out of this hotel? She tentatively wrapped Crystal in a couple of tank tops, leaving her head uncovered.
Mireille checked out of the hotel (the clerk gave her some strange looks when she claimed that the mewing in her bag was caused by a toy she had bought for her niece) and walked down the street in the crisp spring air. She was in downtown Tokyo now and had no idea how to get to Kirika's ex- home from the ground on which she was standing. She let her mind wander back to that fateful day. . .
= = = = = = =
"I. . . can kill people. . . this easily. But I wonder. . . Why don't I feel regretful?"
Mireille watched suspiciously as a tear ran down the face of the Japanese schoolgirl who had claimed to be Noir. Eventually she interrogated the girl rather harshly, which was understandable given the wild chase she had been led on. Instead of answering then and there, the girl known as Yuumura Kirika led Mireille to her home.
= = = = = = =
Mireille opened her eyes. She remembered that Kirika's home had only been a short walk from the school, and the school's name had been engraved in the wall. Excited yet apprehensive, she hailed a taxi and fortunately, the taxi understood her heavily accented Japanese.
Now that she knew where she was headed, Mireille relaxed and enjoyed the scenery. They drove through busy city streets filled with banks and other large offices; later they passed through calm and peaceful neighborhoods where young children, too little to be in school, were outside playing. Little girls sat under the shade of a tree and played with dolls while the boys played dolls or chased each other with action figures.
The mewing from her bag was growing desperate, and it drew Mireille's gaze back to the kitten.
"Oh no, you must be suffocating in there!" Mireille quickly unzipped it and lifted the weak little kitten into her arms. It mewed weakly, but perked up after a few minutes of fresh air.
The cab driver smiled at her in the rearview mirror. "Anata no neko wa kirei desu."
Mireille thought quickly. She'd caught "Anata no", meaning "your", and "kirei", meaning "pretty" or "clean". She wasn't sure if she was being told that she was pretty or the cat was pretty, but she figured a simply thank you couldn't go wrong. "Arigatoo gozaimasu."
They traveled in silence the rest of the way, until the school came into sight. The schoolyard was empty, which temporarily confused Mireille. The last time she was here students had been everywhere. She supposed they were all in class. She briefly wondered what day of the week it was, then gave up. She'd long forgotten.
With a smile and another "Arigatoo", she paid the driver and stepped back into a schoolyard she hadn't visited in six years.
The air was deadly silent and it seemed to Mireille that it was filled with suspense. Had Crystal not been there with her, she might have turned back, but the little kitten's mews gave her courage and she pressed on, searching for the dirt path bordered by bamboo shoots that Kirika had walked down many times. There-there it was. Evidently no one had used it for awhile, as the bamboo plants had luxuriously spread out and nearly covered the entrance. Mireille took a deep breath, then brushed them aside with one hand and stepped inside. She almost wished for her gun to protect her in case someone came out from behind a tree-something she hadn't wished for since they had left Altena's shrine.
The canopy of bamboo and other deciduous tree leaves had woven a thick mat that prevented nearly all sunlight from coming in. Crystal mewed in distress, but Mireille paid no attention to her. She climbed over dozens of dead trees before coming to a clearing, where a flat area of grass stretched out and eventually reached a road. Just beyond that was an apartment building that Mireille recognized at once.
It was a little different now. The trees that had once grown around the building had been replaced with gardens of flowers in a multitude of colors. Laundry no longer billowed from the balcony railings. Mireille steeled her resolve and walked towards it.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. Across the room, a woman was sitting at the counter going through some papers. She looked up at Mireille with a warm smile and said, "Ohayoo gozaimasu. Ogenki desu ka?"
Mireille understood the simple greetings and was able to respond with "Good morning! Yes, I am well, thank you."
The woman launched off into rapid Japanese, and soon Mireille was waving her hands desperately. "No, no-I mean, iie, iie! Wakarimasen!"
The woman stopped and looked curiously at Mireille for a moment, then called to someone behind her. A young man dressed in an impeccable suit came out and said crisply in lightly accented English, "Good morning, madam. How may I help you?"
Mireille thought, and then quietly replied, "I'm here to visit a friend of mine."
"Ah, madam. Who would that friend be?"
There was a slight pause before she responded, "Yuumura Kirika."
The woman gasped and the man looked shocked. They exchanged glances before the man replied, "Madam, perhaps you are not familiar with the story of the Yuumura daughter."
I know it better than either of you will ever know, thought Mireille impatiently, but she managed to put on a curious expression and said, "No, what happened?"
"Apparently the daughter had been living alone there for some time, although she never spoke with any of the neighbors so it is not known exactly how long. One day she simply stopped attending school and when her apartment was checked, it was discovered that she was simply gone."
Mireille managed to look shocked.
"A full search was conducted and it appeared that her disappearance had been planned. Her clothes were gone, the dresser empty. Had the daughter been kidnapped, she would not have had time to pack. The neighbors and school waited, but she never returned. It has been six years since she vanished."
Mireille said nothing for a moment in order to give the impression that she was thinking this over. Then she asked, "May I see her room?"
The man and the woman switched uncomfortable glances, but at last the man said, "Yes. I must warn you, madam, that it has not been touched since the Yuumura daughter's disappearance. People around here believe that it is haunted and refuse to go near it. Some even avoid the floor altogether."
"I don't care," said Mireille in a rather impatient tone, and regretted it at once. It had been much too harsh for the polite and delicate etiquette expected of Japanese people. The woman blanched just at her tone of voice and then man simply stared for a moment before saying "All right. Right this way, madam."
He led her into an elevator and pressed the number five button, which Mireille noticed was the only button not worn by use. Inwardly she scoffed. How superstitious were these people anyway?
"Right this way, madam." He led her down a familiar narrow aisle and opened room 523 with a key. "Here you are."
"Thank you," Mireille said. He bowed and said, "I shall leave the key with you, madam. Please return it to us downstairs when you have completed your. . . your visit."
Mireille smiled at him and stepped into Kirika's apartment, closing the door behind her.
It was just as she remembered-only much, much dustier. All the furniture was in its exact same place, the washed dishes still stacked neatly by the sink. There was a bamboo plant near the window that had long wilted from lack of water, its leaves curled and brown. And before she knew it, Mireille Bouquet, once the most reliable contract assassin, was on the floor sobbing.
She'd come to find Kirika. She'd known that Yuumura Kirika wasn't here, but in her heart, harbored a tiny hope that Kirika just might have returned to Japan. After all, where else would she go? Even the man's story had not destroyed that flickering flame of hope. Mireille felt as if invisible fingers had just closed around the flame, destroying it and leaving in its place a void of nothingness.
"Kirika, Kirika. . ."
Crystal's soft mewing drew her attention back to her surroundings. She was kneeling on the floor, her hands balled into fists on the ground, her head resting on the hard wooden floor between them.
"I'm sorry," whispered Mireille, to no one and everyone at the same time. "I'm so sorry, Kirika."
Author's Note: "Neko" means cat; therefore the cab driver was telling Mireille that her kitten was pretty.~*~ Mireille ~*~
Mireille took her time brushing her hair. She was beginning to regret pulling out those knots yesterday-already her hair was beginning to thin out, and she was just twenty-five years old. Crystal stood on the edge of the sink and watched her interestedly.
"You lucky thing, you hardly have to do anything for that gorgeous coat of gold."
Crystal mewed.
"I guess I'm stuck with you." She pulled a lock back and drew it into a tight French braid. In an effort to forget Kirika and build her new self, she had tried various hairstyles. Nothing fit her as well as the simple draping about her shoulders, but she didn't mind the braid.
Crystal mewed expectantly. Mireille sighed; she did hate having to hide the kitten in her bag, but how else was she going to get her out of this hotel? She tentatively wrapped Crystal in a couple of tank tops, leaving her head uncovered.
Mireille checked out of the hotel (the clerk gave her some strange looks when she claimed that the mewing in her bag was caused by a toy she had bought for her niece) and walked down the street in the crisp spring air. She was in downtown Tokyo now and had no idea how to get to Kirika's ex- home from the ground on which she was standing. She let her mind wander back to that fateful day. . .
= = = = = = =
"I. . . can kill people. . . this easily. But I wonder. . . Why don't I feel regretful?"
Mireille watched suspiciously as a tear ran down the face of the Japanese schoolgirl who had claimed to be Noir. Eventually she interrogated the girl rather harshly, which was understandable given the wild chase she had been led on. Instead of answering then and there, the girl known as Yuumura Kirika led Mireille to her home.
= = = = = = =
Mireille opened her eyes. She remembered that Kirika's home had only been a short walk from the school, and the school's name had been engraved in the wall. Excited yet apprehensive, she hailed a taxi and fortunately, the taxi understood her heavily accented Japanese.
Now that she knew where she was headed, Mireille relaxed and enjoyed the scenery. They drove through busy city streets filled with banks and other large offices; later they passed through calm and peaceful neighborhoods where young children, too little to be in school, were outside playing. Little girls sat under the shade of a tree and played with dolls while the boys played dolls or chased each other with action figures.
The mewing from her bag was growing desperate, and it drew Mireille's gaze back to the kitten.
"Oh no, you must be suffocating in there!" Mireille quickly unzipped it and lifted the weak little kitten into her arms. It mewed weakly, but perked up after a few minutes of fresh air.
The cab driver smiled at her in the rearview mirror. "Anata no neko wa kirei desu."
Mireille thought quickly. She'd caught "Anata no", meaning "your", and "kirei", meaning "pretty" or "clean". She wasn't sure if she was being told that she was pretty or the cat was pretty, but she figured a simply thank you couldn't go wrong. "Arigatoo gozaimasu."
They traveled in silence the rest of the way, until the school came into sight. The schoolyard was empty, which temporarily confused Mireille. The last time she was here students had been everywhere. She supposed they were all in class. She briefly wondered what day of the week it was, then gave up. She'd long forgotten.
With a smile and another "Arigatoo", she paid the driver and stepped back into a schoolyard she hadn't visited in six years.
The air was deadly silent and it seemed to Mireille that it was filled with suspense. Had Crystal not been there with her, she might have turned back, but the little kitten's mews gave her courage and she pressed on, searching for the dirt path bordered by bamboo shoots that Kirika had walked down many times. There-there it was. Evidently no one had used it for awhile, as the bamboo plants had luxuriously spread out and nearly covered the entrance. Mireille took a deep breath, then brushed them aside with one hand and stepped inside. She almost wished for her gun to protect her in case someone came out from behind a tree-something she hadn't wished for since they had left Altena's shrine.
The canopy of bamboo and other deciduous tree leaves had woven a thick mat that prevented nearly all sunlight from coming in. Crystal mewed in distress, but Mireille paid no attention to her. She climbed over dozens of dead trees before coming to a clearing, where a flat area of grass stretched out and eventually reached a road. Just beyond that was an apartment building that Mireille recognized at once.
It was a little different now. The trees that had once grown around the building had been replaced with gardens of flowers in a multitude of colors. Laundry no longer billowed from the balcony railings. Mireille steeled her resolve and walked towards it.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. Across the room, a woman was sitting at the counter going through some papers. She looked up at Mireille with a warm smile and said, "Ohayoo gozaimasu. Ogenki desu ka?"
Mireille understood the simple greetings and was able to respond with "Good morning! Yes, I am well, thank you."
The woman launched off into rapid Japanese, and soon Mireille was waving her hands desperately. "No, no-I mean, iie, iie! Wakarimasen!"
The woman stopped and looked curiously at Mireille for a moment, then called to someone behind her. A young man dressed in an impeccable suit came out and said crisply in lightly accented English, "Good morning, madam. How may I help you?"
Mireille thought, and then quietly replied, "I'm here to visit a friend of mine."
"Ah, madam. Who would that friend be?"
There was a slight pause before she responded, "Yuumura Kirika."
The woman gasped and the man looked shocked. They exchanged glances before the man replied, "Madam, perhaps you are not familiar with the story of the Yuumura daughter."
I know it better than either of you will ever know, thought Mireille impatiently, but she managed to put on a curious expression and said, "No, what happened?"
"Apparently the daughter had been living alone there for some time, although she never spoke with any of the neighbors so it is not known exactly how long. One day she simply stopped attending school and when her apartment was checked, it was discovered that she was simply gone."
Mireille managed to look shocked.
"A full search was conducted and it appeared that her disappearance had been planned. Her clothes were gone, the dresser empty. Had the daughter been kidnapped, she would not have had time to pack. The neighbors and school waited, but she never returned. It has been six years since she vanished."
Mireille said nothing for a moment in order to give the impression that she was thinking this over. Then she asked, "May I see her room?"
The man and the woman switched uncomfortable glances, but at last the man said, "Yes. I must warn you, madam, that it has not been touched since the Yuumura daughter's disappearance. People around here believe that it is haunted and refuse to go near it. Some even avoid the floor altogether."
"I don't care," said Mireille in a rather impatient tone, and regretted it at once. It had been much too harsh for the polite and delicate etiquette expected of Japanese people. The woman blanched just at her tone of voice and then man simply stared for a moment before saying "All right. Right this way, madam."
He led her into an elevator and pressed the number five button, which Mireille noticed was the only button not worn by use. Inwardly she scoffed. How superstitious were these people anyway?
"Right this way, madam." He led her down a familiar narrow aisle and opened room 523 with a key. "Here you are."
"Thank you," Mireille said. He bowed and said, "I shall leave the key with you, madam. Please return it to us downstairs when you have completed your. . . your visit."
Mireille smiled at him and stepped into Kirika's apartment, closing the door behind her.
It was just as she remembered-only much, much dustier. All the furniture was in its exact same place, the washed dishes still stacked neatly by the sink. There was a bamboo plant near the window that had long wilted from lack of water, its leaves curled and brown. And before she knew it, Mireille Bouquet, once the most reliable contract assassin, was on the floor sobbing.
She'd come to find Kirika. She'd known that Yuumura Kirika wasn't here, but in her heart, harbored a tiny hope that Kirika just might have returned to Japan. After all, where else would she go? Even the man's story had not destroyed that flickering flame of hope. Mireille felt as if invisible fingers had just closed around the flame, destroying it and leaving in its place a void of nothingness.
"Kirika, Kirika. . ."
Crystal's soft mewing drew her attention back to her surroundings. She was kneeling on the floor, her hands balled into fists on the ground, her head resting on the hard wooden floor between them.
"I'm sorry," whispered Mireille, to no one and everyone at the same time. "I'm so sorry, Kirika."
Author's Note: "Neko" means cat; therefore the cab driver was telling Mireille that her kitten was pretty.~*~ Mireille ~*~