A/N: I have done the unmentionable, the impossible...I have tried to get into Kirika's head to tell the story from her point of view. @_@ LOL. Best luck to that anyway. -_-;; The ending's really anti-climactic...it's too hurried (this ending chapter was a bit of a rush job); che, guess emoting vignettes really isn't my area...just needed to get it out of my system ^^;;. Oh well, better luck next time *bows and runs off*.
The hands of the clock had lost much its luminous glow by this time, but I could still see its faint outline pointing towards ten-thirty. Hours later I will have to rise to leave for the airport.
I rolled on my backside, pulling the covers closer. I had tried fixing myself a glass of warm milk, but to no avail. Sleep was apparently not going to come easily tonight.
I stared at the vague form of the empty chair opposite the bed, seeking answers. Mireille, why have you been keeping away from me? Do you or do you not want me to go? You know my decision rests on yours; if you were to say that you don't want me to leave, I won't. But you said no such thing; you did not stop me from going. Yet I can't help thinking that that is not your decision. I'm confused, Mireille. What is it you want me to do?
I closed my eyes for what seemed to be the thousandth time tonight. She had not been with me for two days, the two days that I thought would be the most precious to me before I left for Japan. Instead, I had spent them alone in the apartment, packing my bags and clearing the shelves and the wardrobes, wondering if it was something I said that had caused the only true friend and family I had to avoid me.
Our last conversation had pierced me and finally made me think that perhaps I had been too presumptuous to think that Mireille felt towards me the same way I felt for her. Maybe what was between us was merely professional, but I had read too much into it.
I forced the tears welling not to sting my eyes and I buried my cheek on the pillow, clutching the edge of the mattress with my fingers. I had no one to blame but myself for that. It was my own desperation for a companion that had led me to fool myself into thinking that way. And now Mireille is feeling forced to return that affection, but she just can't; maybe that's why she is avoiding me, to avoid an unpleasant confrontation for the both of us.
I had left my Beretta on her bedside table before I went to sleep. Perhaps it is the least I can do - that I give her what I had found on the very first day of my life that I could remember. To her, it might be a parting souvenir from the business deal we had; to me, it will always be much more.
Mireille said something very meaningful on the very night that I left Japan to come to France. She was wondering why I would feel a sadness in leaving the hometown that had never provided me with a family. She had leaned on the doorjamb, looking a little amusingly quizzical, and she said,"'Even when I'm surrounded by people, I'm always alone.'"
It was a quote from Ernest Hemingway, and the moment she had recited it, I knew I had found the perfect person to help me find out who I am. She had promised to kill me, but I had answered, "I'll be waiting," because, perhaps, I had almost wished that she would kill me when the time comes. I had been afraid, had always been afraid, that the one who would strike me the death blow would be no other person's hand but mine.
Ernest Hemingway had shot himself with his own gun. I was afraid I would do the same.
But I knew that while Mireille was still with me, I would never do such a thing - for the very simple reason that I knew someone was waiting for me. I knew there was someone who cared whether I was dead or alive, who would shed tears if I were to depart from this world - that gave me enough reason to live.
But now I am not so sure. I may had just been deluding myself without my knowing it, so desperate I was to grasp on any straw.
I feel as empty as I had felt on the very first day I woke up.
There was a faint sound at the door of a key being inserted into the lock and turned. Mireille was finally back. I looked at the clock, squinting. It was ten-forty. Mireille must have thought it safe to return without running the risk of having to deal with me.
My ears strained to hear her footfalls echoing on the floor, her high-heeled boots clacking. With bold strides, she made her way to the bathroom and I heard the squeaky tap of cold water being turned on. Then she went for her room and locked the doorknob. I heard nothing else.
I sighed and turned again to face the wall, my back facing the door. How did things come to this?
I arched my head to look at the window. The rain had already stopped early this evening and the clouds had already cleared. Look at the full moon tonight. It's beautiful. So round, and so bright; not flawless, but beautiful all the same. By tomorrow night I would be looking at the same moon in another place - a place, if I found no success, that would hold nothing for me but the consoling sight of the moon.
Perhaps it was best that I now knew that whatever I had ever thought of Mireille's friendship towards me had been nothing but a foolish fantasy. It was only sad that I had believed in it too much.
I closed my eyes again, determined to go to sleep. The earlier I sleep, the quicker the morning would come. I had already set the alarm on the clock to wake me at five in the morning. I would dress, take my bags, and quietly leave the place I had used to think of as home.
It was best this way, I thought, as I felt a tear slide from my eye to my pillow. I felt no embarrassment, only a distinct numbness.
Suddenly, I heard Mireille wrench her doorknob and open the door. My eyes snapped open as her feet padded cautiously towards my room and she quietly turned the doorknob. My door opened with a creak and a ray of light spilled into the floor and climbed to the wall that I was facing. I could see her silhouette clearly.
I froze. Then I closed my eyes again and consciously mimicked the serene, breathing movement of a person in deep sleep. Mireille thought that I was asleep; I will, at least, respect her for that and give her no further embarrassment. This way, both of us will save face.
I heard her coming near me and looking over to see if I was truly asleep. After a few seconds, I thought she would go away, but instead, she pulled the chair closer and sat down quietly. She didn't sound as if she was going to leave for quite some time.
I could barely keep my perplexity as I forced myself to look even more convincingly asleep. What is Mireille doing here?
Then I heard it, the cock of a gun. I was facing the opposite direction but I knew it was my Beretta that she had just cocked, just one foot away from me. The sound echoed in my room, bouncing in all directions, and it filled my ears to the brim. I closed my eyes even tighter. This was it. Mireille was finally going to fulfill her promise, just as she had said. She had been unable to do it the last time she had tried, that one rainy night that had seemed so long ago, but this was our last chance to repay all debts.
I felt no fear. I felt nothing but peace. She might as well do it; now that I had realized the truth and had lost my joy over being accepted by at least one person, I had nothing else to lose. I may find my entire clan in Japan, but they would mean nothing to me. Not now.
I waited, but nothing happened. Minutes passed, the gun cocked and ready, I pretending to be asleep, Mireille sitting in front of me - but she did not pull the trigger nor did I hear a bang. She just sat there, not moving.
I could not wait any longer. I did not mind dying, but I minded the wait very much. This was like that rainy night in the graveyard again, after Chloe had revealed to her who I truly was...
"Mireille," I whispered, more to myself than her. "Ute. Shoot."
There was a very loud pause. Then...
"Kirika?!"
I forced myself to turn around to face her. From the moonlight, I could see her, still dressed in her outdoor clother, her eyes gleaming brightly and her cheeks a little wet, and in her trembling hands was my gun. But it was not pointed at me.
"Kirika?!" Mireille's voice had a strange quality to it and she dropped the gun onto her lap in utter amazement. "You're...you're still awake?"
"Shoot now, Mireille," I pleaded, trying very hard to keep my voice steady.
"What? What are you talking about?!" Mireille's eyes widened and she sounded confused. "Wait, you thought I was going to..." Aghast, she looked at the gun then back at me, shock registering on her pale face. "No, no...oh, my dear, I would never-"
Then she caught herself. She stood up and turned away from me, leaving the Beretta on the chair.
I sat up. "Mireille, wait-"
She raised a hand and I stopped. Then she turned back to me again, looking more composed, but her eyes were still bright.
"Mireille-"
"I came to say...to say thank you," she began, before I could say anything else. "This is a beautiful gun you are leaving me with."
My breath caught at my throat and I could not speak.
"But...but I can't take it," she finished. After a moment of deliberation, Mireille picked up the gun and sat on the chair, handing the weapon to me gently. I could see she was biting her lip. "I already have a gun," she said evenly. "I don't need another one. You do."
I flushed. I could not bring myself to believe that Mireille would refuse to accept the only thing I could give her. "I...I could always buy a new one," I said hoarsely.
"No." She sounded gentle but adamant, handing the gun even closer. "This gun wasn't meant for anyone's hands but yours."
"And I'm giving it to you," I returned, my voice tight. I could not read her eyes and it frightened me.
She sounded almost coaxing. "Kirika...".
"No." I did not care any more about saving face; this charade had gone far enough. "I understand if you don't think of me as...as anything much, but please, Mireille, at least try to understand in return, in the name of everything we had ever gone through, that I want to leave you something to remember me by." I almost choked and Mireille's face altered. "I want to leave thinking I left a mark here. It may not be true, but at least I did all I could. Please." I reached out with shaking hands to close Mireille's fingers on my gun and I pushed it back to her. "Even just for the sake of appearance."
Mireille could not say anything as she stared at the gun before looking at me. She was not stopping her tears, tears that shocked me so much that I said in astonishment, "Mireille, you're...you're crying."
She gave a faint smile and she finally took the gun and set it aside. "Well, I thought you might as well see me do so before you leave, if it's so strange to you," she chuckled through her tears as she reached out and embraced me tightly with both arms. "My dear," she said, her voice muffled, "you have no idea how big a mark you have already left here."
I was too overcome to say anything in reply; I could only return her hug even tighter, my own tears streaming unceasingly on her shoulder. I knew the scent of her perfume all too well. Mireille...I'm glad...I'm so glad...
"I'm sorry," she said softly, gently stroking my hair like the big sister I've always wished for. "I'm sorry I had to go through some teenagery-tantrum the last few days. I guess I just found it hard to accept that you were leaving. I have to thank you for being so patient with me."
It felt so warm just to be held by Mireille; it was the best feeling in the world. I didn't want to let go, didn't want to speak in fear of ruining the feeling, but I finally found my tongue and asked in a small voice, burying myself deeper into her hair, "Do you want me to leave?"
Mireille gave an audible sigh and the regret was unmistakable, but she did not let go of me. "It's not up to me to decide that, Kirika."
"But I want to know if it's all right with you. If you don't want me to go, I won't. I'll stay here with you for as long as it lasts," I said earnestly.
Mireille gave a laugh and held me tighter. "Slice me and take my heart out, why don't you? As if it wasn't hard enough for me already." Then she dropped her hand from my hair and said, "If I could have my own way, I'd wish you could just stay here with me. But you have as much right as anyone else to try your best to locate your origins. And I place that above my own preference." She paused then placed a hand on my shoulder, the other brushing the tears off my face. "Just promise to come back, all right, no matter how long it takes?"
"I promise," I said, smiling in spite of myself, still sniffing.
Mireille smiled back at me. "Do you remember when you said the other day that there was only one thing you were certain of yourself - that you're Japanese?"
"Yes?"
"Well, you were wrong. There's one thing you missed: that you'll always have me waiting for you here." Mireille hugged me again before completely letting go. "There. You'd better get back to sleep, dear, if you don't want to miss your flight."
It took me quite some time to release practical, practical Mireille, but I finally did, and she tucked me under the covers, saying goodnight. Before she left, she took my Beretta and said, "You know I'll be guarding this with my life. I will miss you very, very much. Kanarazu. For sure."
"Sayonara, Mireille."
"I prefer to think of it as 'Oyasumi,' Kirika," she said smilingly as she closed the door. "Goodnight."
I stared at the ceiling again, feeling the most content I had ever felt in my entire life. One person actually cared for me in this world; I felt fulfilled. I felt human. I felt loved. I guess that's my reason for living.
I could not keep the broad smile from my face as I shifted by weight comfortably and closed my eyes, my mind drifting drowsily. Tomorrow...tomorrow I will leave this place for an uncertain future...so soon...so fast...
...but one day, I'm coming back, because someone is waiting for me.
Kanarazu.
end