Rosebuds, Chapter 7
Already several days had passed since they had first arrived in Japan. Mireille had spent most of it in bed, drifting in and out of sleep. Kirika hadn't yet admitted it to her partner, but she was beginning to consider taking on the contract.
She still hadn't told Mireille about actually seeing their target-but then again, she and Mireille had hardly exchanged any words since the plane landed. Yet the memory had clamped onto her mind like a barnacle on a whale. Andre Charbonneau. The innocent target. Those three words kept running through her mind as she made dinner. Would she kill him, now that she knew he was innocent? Or would she choose instead to track down the one truly guilty of the crimes? Kirika sliced carrots rapidly, her mouth set in a line. And to do this inside her old school, in front of thousands of innocent children. . .
It wouldn't be possible, she reminded herself. She and Mireille had come for enjoyment, not an assassination. They had no weapons. They had done no detailed studies of Tsubaki High School. Yet Kirika knew they were being watched.
She kept all these thoughts to herself, knowing that there was no need to bother the still-feverish Mireille now. Kirika reached for a cucumber.
Her fever was going down and she kept trying to get out of bed, but Kirika had insisted that she stay until she was well. Despite running her own household for five years, it still felt strange to be ordering Mireille about. Mireille, on the other hand, was deeply annoyed with herself for becoming a burden to Kirika. She hated knowing that she was incapable of taking care of herself right now, but it couldn't be helped. Kirika knew that Mireille would be out of bed the moment she was perfectly healed.
That day came on their fifth day in Japan. It was Kirika who woke late and Mireille who was in the bathroom first, humming as she did her hair. She came out looking vibrant and full of life, nothing like the limp, wilted woman who had arrived here nearly a week ago.
They decided to spend the entire day at an amusement park. Mireille hadn't been to one since her early teens, during which her Uncle Claude had accompanied her, and Kirika had never been to one-at least not one that she could remember. Kirika arranged for a rental car at the front desk and Mireille drove them fifteen miles down the road. She rolled the windows down, feeling the wind on her face and blowing her hair back, and felt happy again. No more worries of Noir. Kirika, too, tried to forget all such thoughts, but neither admitted it to the other.
Kirika discovered quickly that she didn't care for roller coasters, but Mireille loved them and laughed on every ride. Kirika covered her eyes and screamed nonstop, and after a few rides Mireille gave in to Kirika's pleading for her to stop. They headed to the pool, and Mireille rented a raft.
"When I was little," Mireille told Kirika, as they stepped into the cool water, "Uncle Claude took me to the pool a few times to teach me how to swim. After awhile I became fairly proficient at it and decided to go into the deep water. Of course, before I knew it, the water was over my head and I began to panic."
"Un," Kirika said, her eyes focused on the perforated panels at the end of the pool. They were creating huge waves-but Kirika wasn't sure how that was possible. Part of her wanted to run to the deep water and find out how it was working, but the other part wanted nothing more than to hear the rest of Mireille's story. Mireille didn't notice and continued.
"Soon I was underwater and I opened my eyes, only to see a large dark shape coming towards me-and I tried to scream, but it turned out to be my Uncle Claude. He swam under me and placing his hands on my feet, pushed me up out of the water." Mireille smiled at the memory. "Needless to say, I never went that deep again until I'd had many more swimming lessons."
Kirika turned towards Mireille and smiled, obviously liking the story.
"So," Mireille placed the raft in the water, "get in. I'll push you along."
Kirika was shocked, but obligingly stepped into the center of the donut- shaped raft, unsure of how this was supposed to work. Mireille laughed and told her to step back out, then showed her how to sit in the middle, her legs and arms dangling over the side. Once Kirika was comfortably settled, Mireille walked deeper into the water and eventually began to swim, pushing Kirika along in front of her.
The waves grew bigger and bigger and Kirika was scared like a little girl, but soon overcame her fear. "This is fun!" she called to Mireille, who was bobbing along in the waves beside her, hanging onto the side of the raft for flotation.
Mireille laughed.
Kirika was floating closer and closer to the panels now and her curiosity grew. She shifted her position slightly but only succeeded in slightly rotating the raft. Each wave pushed her farther away and she flailed desperately in the bright yellow raft, trying to figure out how one was supposed to maneuver.
"Mireiyu!" she called, intending to ask if she could have some help. However, Mireille didn't seem to be there. Then Kirika's stomach lurched as she felt the side of her raft rising under her left hand and her right hand dipping into the water. There wasn't time to scream before she was flipped over.
Kirika had never had swimming lessons and wasn't an avid swimmer, but came to the surface anyway. Kicking her feet madly to stay afloat, Kirika rubbed at her eyes, then heard someone laughing behind her. She whirled around to see Mireille, her long blond locks plastered to her face and neck.
Mireille's expression turned to concern as she asked, "Can you swim?"
"Yes," Kirika ground out through a mouthful of water. Mireille offered her arm and together, they set off after the raft. For the rest of the afternoon, Kirika stayed either on the raft or hung to the edge. Waves were fun, but she didn't want to get washed under again.
The sun was already plummeting slowly in the sky before the pool closed. Mireille pushed Kirika (in the raft) back to shore, aided by the force of the waves, and Kirika climbed out, strangely not wanting to leave. She hung behind for just a few moments, wanting to feel the water run over her feet just one more time. When that desire was satisfied she picked up the raft and ran to Mireille.
The Corsican blonde stood facing the pool chair where they had left their bags-and Kirika saw that it was empty. Even their shoes, which had been left to the side of the chairs, were gone.
Mireille whirled around, her eyes narrowing. She knew exactly what Kirika did: this hadn't been done by someone who had accidentally grabbed the wrong bag. Someone had bothered to pick up their shoes along with the towels and clothes had been strewn all over the pair of chairs and take them away. She turned and walked away. Kirika didn't follow, just watched her from their empty chairs.
Mireille was halfway down the row of chairs before Kirika saw her head sink. She turned back to look at Kirika, and Kirika instinctively understood. To do anything she would need a translator. She hurried after her partner.
They returned the raft and Kirika asked hurriedly about their bags. To their immense surprise, the young woman behind the counter replied that someone had turned in two lost bags-and brought out their bags. Mireille asked about their shoes in halting, heavily accented Japanese and felt stupid when Kirika had to translate for her. The young woman shook her head and apologized. There was nothing she could do since nothing had been turned in, and as the park was closing, they would have to leave.
In the car Mireille found, to her shock, that all her clothes and shoes had been neatly folded and packed strategically so that everything fit perfectly. She pulled out her shoes and a tiny slip of paper fell out.
It was only half the length of Mireille's finger and about an inch wide, the few characters handwritten in Japanese on a rectangle of simple white paper. She heard movement stop behind her and called out, "Are all your things there too?"
"Hai." Mireille felt the Japanese girl's eyes on her back. "What's that?"
Mireille handed it to her. Kirika read it and gasped. Highly annoyed with herself for not being able to read Japanese, Mireille closed her eyes and called back, "What does it say?"
Kirika lowered the paper. Her lips barely moved.
"It says, 'The contract?' ."
Already several days had passed since they had first arrived in Japan. Mireille had spent most of it in bed, drifting in and out of sleep. Kirika hadn't yet admitted it to her partner, but she was beginning to consider taking on the contract.
She still hadn't told Mireille about actually seeing their target-but then again, she and Mireille had hardly exchanged any words since the plane landed. Yet the memory had clamped onto her mind like a barnacle on a whale. Andre Charbonneau. The innocent target. Those three words kept running through her mind as she made dinner. Would she kill him, now that she knew he was innocent? Or would she choose instead to track down the one truly guilty of the crimes? Kirika sliced carrots rapidly, her mouth set in a line. And to do this inside her old school, in front of thousands of innocent children. . .
It wouldn't be possible, she reminded herself. She and Mireille had come for enjoyment, not an assassination. They had no weapons. They had done no detailed studies of Tsubaki High School. Yet Kirika knew they were being watched.
She kept all these thoughts to herself, knowing that there was no need to bother the still-feverish Mireille now. Kirika reached for a cucumber.
Her fever was going down and she kept trying to get out of bed, but Kirika had insisted that she stay until she was well. Despite running her own household for five years, it still felt strange to be ordering Mireille about. Mireille, on the other hand, was deeply annoyed with herself for becoming a burden to Kirika. She hated knowing that she was incapable of taking care of herself right now, but it couldn't be helped. Kirika knew that Mireille would be out of bed the moment she was perfectly healed.
That day came on their fifth day in Japan. It was Kirika who woke late and Mireille who was in the bathroom first, humming as she did her hair. She came out looking vibrant and full of life, nothing like the limp, wilted woman who had arrived here nearly a week ago.
They decided to spend the entire day at an amusement park. Mireille hadn't been to one since her early teens, during which her Uncle Claude had accompanied her, and Kirika had never been to one-at least not one that she could remember. Kirika arranged for a rental car at the front desk and Mireille drove them fifteen miles down the road. She rolled the windows down, feeling the wind on her face and blowing her hair back, and felt happy again. No more worries of Noir. Kirika, too, tried to forget all such thoughts, but neither admitted it to the other.
Kirika discovered quickly that she didn't care for roller coasters, but Mireille loved them and laughed on every ride. Kirika covered her eyes and screamed nonstop, and after a few rides Mireille gave in to Kirika's pleading for her to stop. They headed to the pool, and Mireille rented a raft.
"When I was little," Mireille told Kirika, as they stepped into the cool water, "Uncle Claude took me to the pool a few times to teach me how to swim. After awhile I became fairly proficient at it and decided to go into the deep water. Of course, before I knew it, the water was over my head and I began to panic."
"Un," Kirika said, her eyes focused on the perforated panels at the end of the pool. They were creating huge waves-but Kirika wasn't sure how that was possible. Part of her wanted to run to the deep water and find out how it was working, but the other part wanted nothing more than to hear the rest of Mireille's story. Mireille didn't notice and continued.
"Soon I was underwater and I opened my eyes, only to see a large dark shape coming towards me-and I tried to scream, but it turned out to be my Uncle Claude. He swam under me and placing his hands on my feet, pushed me up out of the water." Mireille smiled at the memory. "Needless to say, I never went that deep again until I'd had many more swimming lessons."
Kirika turned towards Mireille and smiled, obviously liking the story.
"So," Mireille placed the raft in the water, "get in. I'll push you along."
Kirika was shocked, but obligingly stepped into the center of the donut- shaped raft, unsure of how this was supposed to work. Mireille laughed and told her to step back out, then showed her how to sit in the middle, her legs and arms dangling over the side. Once Kirika was comfortably settled, Mireille walked deeper into the water and eventually began to swim, pushing Kirika along in front of her.
The waves grew bigger and bigger and Kirika was scared like a little girl, but soon overcame her fear. "This is fun!" she called to Mireille, who was bobbing along in the waves beside her, hanging onto the side of the raft for flotation.
Mireille laughed.
Kirika was floating closer and closer to the panels now and her curiosity grew. She shifted her position slightly but only succeeded in slightly rotating the raft. Each wave pushed her farther away and she flailed desperately in the bright yellow raft, trying to figure out how one was supposed to maneuver.
"Mireiyu!" she called, intending to ask if she could have some help. However, Mireille didn't seem to be there. Then Kirika's stomach lurched as she felt the side of her raft rising under her left hand and her right hand dipping into the water. There wasn't time to scream before she was flipped over.
Kirika had never had swimming lessons and wasn't an avid swimmer, but came to the surface anyway. Kicking her feet madly to stay afloat, Kirika rubbed at her eyes, then heard someone laughing behind her. She whirled around to see Mireille, her long blond locks plastered to her face and neck.
Mireille's expression turned to concern as she asked, "Can you swim?"
"Yes," Kirika ground out through a mouthful of water. Mireille offered her arm and together, they set off after the raft. For the rest of the afternoon, Kirika stayed either on the raft or hung to the edge. Waves were fun, but she didn't want to get washed under again.
The sun was already plummeting slowly in the sky before the pool closed. Mireille pushed Kirika (in the raft) back to shore, aided by the force of the waves, and Kirika climbed out, strangely not wanting to leave. She hung behind for just a few moments, wanting to feel the water run over her feet just one more time. When that desire was satisfied she picked up the raft and ran to Mireille.
The Corsican blonde stood facing the pool chair where they had left their bags-and Kirika saw that it was empty. Even their shoes, which had been left to the side of the chairs, were gone.
Mireille whirled around, her eyes narrowing. She knew exactly what Kirika did: this hadn't been done by someone who had accidentally grabbed the wrong bag. Someone had bothered to pick up their shoes along with the towels and clothes had been strewn all over the pair of chairs and take them away. She turned and walked away. Kirika didn't follow, just watched her from their empty chairs.
Mireille was halfway down the row of chairs before Kirika saw her head sink. She turned back to look at Kirika, and Kirika instinctively understood. To do anything she would need a translator. She hurried after her partner.
They returned the raft and Kirika asked hurriedly about their bags. To their immense surprise, the young woman behind the counter replied that someone had turned in two lost bags-and brought out their bags. Mireille asked about their shoes in halting, heavily accented Japanese and felt stupid when Kirika had to translate for her. The young woman shook her head and apologized. There was nothing she could do since nothing had been turned in, and as the park was closing, they would have to leave.
In the car Mireille found, to her shock, that all her clothes and shoes had been neatly folded and packed strategically so that everything fit perfectly. She pulled out her shoes and a tiny slip of paper fell out.
It was only half the length of Mireille's finger and about an inch wide, the few characters handwritten in Japanese on a rectangle of simple white paper. She heard movement stop behind her and called out, "Are all your things there too?"
"Hai." Mireille felt the Japanese girl's eyes on her back. "What's that?"
Mireille handed it to her. Kirika read it and gasped. Highly annoyed with herself for not being able to read Japanese, Mireille closed her eyes and called back, "What does it say?"
Kirika lowered the paper. Her lips barely moved.
"It says, 'The contract?' ."
