Mireille in Japan, Chapter 5
A big thank-you to all my reviewers! I got the notification emails while I was in Cancun, Mexico (just came home a few minutes ago) and it was great to know you liked my story!
"I hate doing the dishes," declared Mireille aloud, to no one in particular. She'd never bothered to do it by hand at home; she'd simply stack them in the dishwasher and wait until it was full, but here things were completely different. Kirika's dishwasher was so old and dusty that it took Mireille all of ten minutes just to locate. Furthermore, when she tried to operate it, the machine spewed soapy water all over her. Mireille was not amused. Neither was Crystal, who was still wet and bedraggled- looking from the spray.
"Sorry," Mireille apologized. "I'll give you a bath when I finish with these plates."
When the plates were finally finished, she gave Crystal a slice of bread on one of them, then settled down to eat her baked potatoes, only to find that she had nothing to eat it with. Extremely frustrated now, soapy water still dripping from her hair, Mireille threw open cupboards and drawers until she found something that suddenly made her stop.
Its dusty silver handle was in her hand before she knew it, but she did nothing else for a few minutes, simply staring at it in a mixture of sadness and remorse. A slight twist of her hand and the sunlight streaked down the handle. She touched the fingers of her other hand to the four sharp prongs. Twice as many as the one she remembered. Twice as deadly, in the right hands.
It had always been Kirika's weapon.
The force of the past was becoming stronger again, overwhelming now, no matter how Mireille fought against it.
= = = = = = =
"LIAR!"
Chloe let one of her knives fly and it hit Kirika by surprise, knocking the gun out of her hand. Mireille sat dumbfounded, staring helplessly, numbly.
Kirika caught the second blade nimbly and Chloe launched into a jump, landing on her feet just before Kirika, and slashed at her viciously with the knife. Kirika used her blade only to defend herself and made no attempt to attack the purple-haired girl. Mireille did not-could not-move.
"Stop, Chloe!" Kirika screamed, their blades slashing through the air. "Please!"
"You and Mireille living in Paris," hissed Chloe, "it was..it was.!"
Mireille was taken aback by Chloe's words. Was Chloe. . .jealous?!
"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!" shrieked Chloe. This was not the cool and composed Chloe that knew what she was doing and did it with no regret and no emotion. This Chloe had lost all control.
Kirika jumped backwards and let the blade fall through her fingers. "Please, Chloe," she implored, her voice down to a normal tone now, "stop now."
Chloe's hand quivered. The blade remained at Kirika's feet. Chloe closed her eyes, then slowly held up the fork. Kirika said nothing as Chloe studied it before throwing it to the side.
"Chloe," whispered Kirika.
Chloe said nothing, just turned and closed her eyes. Then, without warning, she pulled out a blade and began to run, pointing it in not Kirika's direction-but Mireille's.
"CHLOE!" screamed Kirika.
Chloe did not move. The only sounds from her were a faint, weakening gasp, followed by the word "Noir". Mireille could only see her from under Kirika's arm, and she said nothing, only lowered her head in shock and grief. But it was Kirika who wept, Kirika who shed tears for the girl she had killed. It was Kirika who held the two-pronged fork to Chloe's chest and Kirika who felt remorse now.
"Chloe was. . . another me," Kirika said, tears still streaming down her face. "I . . . can kill people. . . I'm sad because I kill people."
= = = = = = =
Mireille held up the fork slowly, then let it fall. It sank into the potato in front of her, the prongs piercing deep. The sight of it made Mireille want to retch. She ripped the fork out of the potato and tossed it into the sink.
She sat down on the couch, causing it to emit a huge puff of dust. Crystal mewed and leaped up into her lap, and she stroked her soft fur without really noticing. Chloe's death had never touched Mireille as much as it had Kirika, but it had marked a turning point in their lives. Kirika had hardly ever spoken about Chloe again after they left Altena's shrine, but Mireille knew the memory had never left her mind. A few days after Kirika had left, she had found a crumpled up piece of paper in the trashcan and smoothed it out to find a drawing of a purple-haired girl. Kirika had signed it before drawing a deep slash across the entire drawing. She wondered sometimes if Kirika still painted.
Mireille stood up and picked up her potato before ripping it in half and taking a bite. She hadn't noticed she was so hungry, and devoured one potato after another, using only her hands. When her plate was empty, she stood up and stepped to the window.
She looked down and was surprised to see that the view wasn't altogether that much different from her window in Paris. There were sprays of cherry trees along the road in Japan, but otherwise it was almost the same. Mireille leaned out of the window, looking down, and watched dark heads walking back and forth. One young child was rather reluctantly following his mother when he happened to look up and notice the Corsican blonde. Suddenly his face broke into a smile and he waved at her. Surprised, Mireille waved back and heard him laugh before his mother dragged him away.
The sun sank behind the cherry trees, a sizzling ball of flames struggling to illuminate the world in its last moments before night. Mireille rested her chin in her hand and suddenly felt as if this was her home. She loved Paris, loved the culture and traditions, but her memories of Paris were always cloaked in the dark memories of murder. Noir.
One of her first actions after leaving Altena's shrine was to get rid of her gun. She had no need for it anymore, and she knew it would only remind her of the past. Mireille remembered Kirika's surprised expression as she told her she was going to get rid of it-and heard Kirika's brief reply, "Un."
She hadn't bothered to encourage Kirika to get rid of her gun. Sometimes she wondered if Kirika still carried it around.
Mireille had spent ages wondering what was the best way to destroy such a weapon-a gun that had taken the lives of countless Soldats and even her Uncle Claude. He was to Mireille as Chloe had been to Kirika. His memory had weighed heavily on her mind in the days after Noir, and she had deeply regretted the murder. He had given her so much and saved her life, but she had had no choice in the end.
She couldn't consider donating the gun or selling it. She didn't want to ever see it again, yet she couldn't bear the thought of someone else running their hands over it, examining it closely. Even Kirika had never been given that right.
In the end, Mireille had made a brief trip back to Corsica, and left the gun in the dilapidated mansion where her parents had been murdered. She made a vow then and there, never to return to Corsica.
She hadn't ever expected to come to Japan, but back then she and Kirika had been on good terms. Even several days after Kirika left, Mireille refused to believe that she was gone. She would keep telling herself, "She went to the grocery store. She found something new to paint. She'll be home soon."
But Kirika never came.
A big thank-you to all my reviewers! I got the notification emails while I was in Cancun, Mexico (just came home a few minutes ago) and it was great to know you liked my story!
"I hate doing the dishes," declared Mireille aloud, to no one in particular. She'd never bothered to do it by hand at home; she'd simply stack them in the dishwasher and wait until it was full, but here things were completely different. Kirika's dishwasher was so old and dusty that it took Mireille all of ten minutes just to locate. Furthermore, when she tried to operate it, the machine spewed soapy water all over her. Mireille was not amused. Neither was Crystal, who was still wet and bedraggled- looking from the spray.
"Sorry," Mireille apologized. "I'll give you a bath when I finish with these plates."
When the plates were finally finished, she gave Crystal a slice of bread on one of them, then settled down to eat her baked potatoes, only to find that she had nothing to eat it with. Extremely frustrated now, soapy water still dripping from her hair, Mireille threw open cupboards and drawers until she found something that suddenly made her stop.
Its dusty silver handle was in her hand before she knew it, but she did nothing else for a few minutes, simply staring at it in a mixture of sadness and remorse. A slight twist of her hand and the sunlight streaked down the handle. She touched the fingers of her other hand to the four sharp prongs. Twice as many as the one she remembered. Twice as deadly, in the right hands.
It had always been Kirika's weapon.
The force of the past was becoming stronger again, overwhelming now, no matter how Mireille fought against it.
= = = = = = =
"LIAR!"
Chloe let one of her knives fly and it hit Kirika by surprise, knocking the gun out of her hand. Mireille sat dumbfounded, staring helplessly, numbly.
Kirika caught the second blade nimbly and Chloe launched into a jump, landing on her feet just before Kirika, and slashed at her viciously with the knife. Kirika used her blade only to defend herself and made no attempt to attack the purple-haired girl. Mireille did not-could not-move.
"Stop, Chloe!" Kirika screamed, their blades slashing through the air. "Please!"
"You and Mireille living in Paris," hissed Chloe, "it was..it was.!"
Mireille was taken aback by Chloe's words. Was Chloe. . .jealous?!
"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!" shrieked Chloe. This was not the cool and composed Chloe that knew what she was doing and did it with no regret and no emotion. This Chloe had lost all control.
Kirika jumped backwards and let the blade fall through her fingers. "Please, Chloe," she implored, her voice down to a normal tone now, "stop now."
Chloe's hand quivered. The blade remained at Kirika's feet. Chloe closed her eyes, then slowly held up the fork. Kirika said nothing as Chloe studied it before throwing it to the side.
"Chloe," whispered Kirika.
Chloe said nothing, just turned and closed her eyes. Then, without warning, she pulled out a blade and began to run, pointing it in not Kirika's direction-but Mireille's.
"CHLOE!" screamed Kirika.
Chloe did not move. The only sounds from her were a faint, weakening gasp, followed by the word "Noir". Mireille could only see her from under Kirika's arm, and she said nothing, only lowered her head in shock and grief. But it was Kirika who wept, Kirika who shed tears for the girl she had killed. It was Kirika who held the two-pronged fork to Chloe's chest and Kirika who felt remorse now.
"Chloe was. . . another me," Kirika said, tears still streaming down her face. "I . . . can kill people. . . I'm sad because I kill people."
= = = = = = =
Mireille held up the fork slowly, then let it fall. It sank into the potato in front of her, the prongs piercing deep. The sight of it made Mireille want to retch. She ripped the fork out of the potato and tossed it into the sink.
She sat down on the couch, causing it to emit a huge puff of dust. Crystal mewed and leaped up into her lap, and she stroked her soft fur without really noticing. Chloe's death had never touched Mireille as much as it had Kirika, but it had marked a turning point in their lives. Kirika had hardly ever spoken about Chloe again after they left Altena's shrine, but Mireille knew the memory had never left her mind. A few days after Kirika had left, she had found a crumpled up piece of paper in the trashcan and smoothed it out to find a drawing of a purple-haired girl. Kirika had signed it before drawing a deep slash across the entire drawing. She wondered sometimes if Kirika still painted.
Mireille stood up and picked up her potato before ripping it in half and taking a bite. She hadn't noticed she was so hungry, and devoured one potato after another, using only her hands. When her plate was empty, she stood up and stepped to the window.
She looked down and was surprised to see that the view wasn't altogether that much different from her window in Paris. There were sprays of cherry trees along the road in Japan, but otherwise it was almost the same. Mireille leaned out of the window, looking down, and watched dark heads walking back and forth. One young child was rather reluctantly following his mother when he happened to look up and notice the Corsican blonde. Suddenly his face broke into a smile and he waved at her. Surprised, Mireille waved back and heard him laugh before his mother dragged him away.
The sun sank behind the cherry trees, a sizzling ball of flames struggling to illuminate the world in its last moments before night. Mireille rested her chin in her hand and suddenly felt as if this was her home. She loved Paris, loved the culture and traditions, but her memories of Paris were always cloaked in the dark memories of murder. Noir.
One of her first actions after leaving Altena's shrine was to get rid of her gun. She had no need for it anymore, and she knew it would only remind her of the past. Mireille remembered Kirika's surprised expression as she told her she was going to get rid of it-and heard Kirika's brief reply, "Un."
She hadn't bothered to encourage Kirika to get rid of her gun. Sometimes she wondered if Kirika still carried it around.
Mireille had spent ages wondering what was the best way to destroy such a weapon-a gun that had taken the lives of countless Soldats and even her Uncle Claude. He was to Mireille as Chloe had been to Kirika. His memory had weighed heavily on her mind in the days after Noir, and she had deeply regretted the murder. He had given her so much and saved her life, but she had had no choice in the end.
She couldn't consider donating the gun or selling it. She didn't want to ever see it again, yet she couldn't bear the thought of someone else running their hands over it, examining it closely. Even Kirika had never been given that right.
In the end, Mireille had made a brief trip back to Corsica, and left the gun in the dilapidated mansion where her parents had been murdered. She made a vow then and there, never to return to Corsica.
She hadn't ever expected to come to Japan, but back then she and Kirika had been on good terms. Even several days after Kirika left, Mireille refused to believe that she was gone. She would keep telling herself, "She went to the grocery store. She found something new to paint. She'll be home soon."
But Kirika never came.