Hep hep hello there people! ^_^ How are you all Noir readers out there? Still kicking? No forks? Terrific. Since, I need you guys fresh, alive and in the mood to reeeeeeeeeeeead. ^^! To all of you who have replied to my other Noir stories, I own you a lifetime of gratitude, you are the ones that makes this worth it. My thanks to all of you who have taken your time to drop a precious comment line by either the review system or by mail. I love you ALL.
Ok, time to dig into the third instalment of my little post-anime story of Kirika and Mireille. As always, written from everybody's favourite blonde's perspective. And, of yeah…
NOTE! Reading especially Wishes upon a Tree and of course the two earlier stories in chronological order will make this story a LOT easier to get and will spare you a lot of "Huh?"s. You have been warned; don't give me the "That aint in the anime!" look if you skip out ok?
Now, Part III in my little corner of the Noir universe…
Sing for Me
By: Shigan
I never liked winter. Sure, big pretty snowflakes in the wind were nice and warm chocolate was definitely a hit together with cosy woollen sweaters. Yes, the whiteness and calamity the season brought was indeed a pleasant rest to the modern turbulent society, a kind of natural meditation for a stressed mind.
Especially a mind which's conscience should be stained beyond recognition in human blood and sin.
Staring out from my window, I frowned at my own chain of thoughts. Come on woman, ok, you don't like winter but that kind of musings were downright depressing. The cup of luke warm tea in my hands had lost it's usual appeal more than half an hour ago, it's only purpose now plainly being to occupy my hands until further notice. I adjusted the knitted black pullover I was wearing, giving a silent curse to the landlord for being such a cheapskate with the gas. Sure, no one would freeze to death but it wasn't exactly boiling in the apartment. In a matter of fact, the degrees had sunk so low lately that the both of us were forced to change our usual sleeping attire to pyjamas. It wasn't like I was craving the physical contact like a cuddle grubby old woman, quite contrary, dressing Kirika in my hand chosen PJs had been something of a little secret dream. Especially when Kirika had given in to the choice with her usual nod of confirmation, being happy as long as I was, life was good.
Hmm… wonder how Soldats would react to that. Their most reverend tradition of the feared black hands turned a pyjamas party.
I failed to restrain a bemused smile. Altena would have been very pleased indeed, even if the visual of Chloe in the fluffy sleeping garb gave me the weebers.
Still, despite the privilege of seeing Kirika, the best this world had to offer in the knife and dagger society, in a pyjamas decorated with teddy bears; despite the increased occasions of well motivated cuddle sessions and, despite all the hot chocolate Paris had to offer, a cold apartment had its obvious downsides.
"ATJOO!!!"
Speaking of the devil.
I turned around, putting my teacup on the pool table to greet the other permanent resident of the apartment. She must have woken up when she felt my missing presence in the bed. Her hair in total disarray from sleep, dressed in the baggy cotton pyjamas that was riddled with small bears all over and looking as sleepy headed as ever, Kirika managed to out-cute most people and still look her deadly best.
She still hadn't recovered from the explosive lost of control three months ago, not completely anyway. My wounds had been minor despite their serious appearances and had healed quickly; a seasoned assassin should be able to take more than just a few hits, even if you were a woman. Kirika, as expected, hadn't received a scratch from the fight. But while her physical self remained as sharp as ever, the ongoing merge of her personality sides had become rather polarized. The darker side of her self had surfaced and settled to the point where I nowadays rarely could see the look of delicate innocence on her face.
More than ever were the eyes which greeted me in the morning the hard, narrowed slits that screamed of incoming danger. The crucial difference from before was that now, the face was no longer empty. All traces of her cold apathy were now gone together with the lack of life she had so clearly emitted before the events in the underground basement. Her presence still spoke of danger, a violent one as her being imposed but it now also carried a strong feeling of … …determination, or deeper motivation.
I could feel it clearer than ever when her eyes raked my still figure beside the window, she had always been a strong person but this was so very different. It felt like if she would be able to carry the world, or destroy it, by the whim for my safety. The strength was almost suffocating pressing at times as she left traces of it along with her touches, making me quiver in delight at the smallest contact. She was like a intelligent, leashed beast, ready to burst into killing frenzy at the smallest indication of threat. It scared me yes, but enthralled me likewise when I could feel a small flare of excitement at the very sight of her, since all that frenzy also took its toll during our more private nightly activities.
Yes, I'm a pervert, sue me.
All her impressive magnificence of the perfect assassin was of course ruined when she suddenly jolted, thrown back by the mother of all sneezes. Taking her to the skating rink maybe hadn't been so much of a hot idea after all.
"What are you doing up and dressed like that?" I asked, not even trying to restrain the look of amused fondness on my face. "Your cold will get worse."
She made one of those small noises that signalled agreement in Japanese and proceeded with rubbing the sleep out from her rather blank looking eyes.
"Are you hungry? I can make some tea before we go to bed." Another nod from the introvert girl.
"I'll help you." She mumbled. Making her way towards the kitchen despite my reminder to dress herself in something warmer. Honestly, the girl should really look after her health more carefully, a sneeze could ruin a hit as good as any stray bullet.
I put away the newspapers that had gathered on the table and fetched my teacup; the clinking sound of china told me that she had probably started without me, as usual.
"How about eggs? Or shall I go and get us a few buns?" The idea had been Kirika's, she surprised me one day with a tray of fresh baked cookies which had put me to awe before she admitted with a rather shy look that there was a new opened bakery just around the corner. She replied with another agreeing 'Mmh' as I made my way towards the kitchen.
A sudden crash rallied me out of my fond memories and sent me flying around the wall, just in time to see Kirika falling to the floor, taking the tray with bread, tea and the carton of milk she had put out for us with her.
She lay with her face down against the floor, breathing unevenly with her eyes closed. Seemingly unable to get back up or even attempt to do so. My heartbeat rose to a deafening drum in my ears as I dived down beside her, sending the teacup with the remaining tea all over the sink. I put my hands on her shoulder and turned her around, lifting her petite figure into my arms.
What had happened all of sudden? She had only been caught in a bad cold what I knew off, or had it been something worse? Dread gripped my heart, Kirika knew a lot about first aid and medical treatment but she lacked the knowledge of how to cure or even detect sickness, probably because of that she with her well trained body had never really been sick before. I gripped her hand, she was as cold as ice. Quickly pressing my palm against her forehead in realization, confirming my fears, she was literally burning up.
Not giving the tea a second thought, I scoped up her limp body in my arms and bolted towards the bed. Wrapping her into the large blanket we shared while fetching an extra one. How long had she been walking with this fever? The stupid girl had probably not even realized it herself and kept it from me, afraid that I would worry about her. She was such an idiot sometimes, despite all her genius qualities. Cursing my own ignorance, I hurried of to the bathroom, drenching a hand towel in cold water while filling a bowl with it at the same time. I did have a small storage of medicines against most of the common diseases since an assassin could rarely go to a hospital without raising any suspicion, due to the lack of all personal files.
Balancing the whole load carefully in each hand, I carried it into our sleeping quarter where Kirika had begun to stir. Her reddish brown eyes following my moments.
"Mireille…? It's cold…"
"Of course you silly, you're having a bad fever." I put away the things in my hands, wetting her forehead with the towel and gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll have to take a few pills." She nodded and closed her eyes again, letting me feed her the bitter pills.
"I don't like this…" She mumbled, narrowing her brows in displeasure.
"You will be better by morning after the pills kicks in, I'll stay with you 'til then."
"Mm.."
**********
I woke up by the pleasant sensation of having a pole rammed into my ribs, the punch had been hard enough to knock the air out of a seasoned boxer, never mind me who had been off in la-la land while receiving it. A few moments of confused gasping sent me up from my place in the bed, senses alert while my mind raced to register everything around me that could be used as a weapon. It didn't take long to recognize the source however when another hand shot out, ramming into my back, almost knocking me out of the bed.
The pale moonlight, against the newly fallen snow, cascaded trough the windows. Kirika had tangled herself into the blanket in an impossible strangling way and was now trashing around like one possessed, take in account that my bed wasn't exactly fit for two either. Her breathing was even more uneven than earlier, she was literally gasping after air while her eyes remained closed.
Was she still asleep?
Worried that she would hurt herself in her feverish rampage, I caught her icily cold hands to hold her down while attempting to free her from the blanket at the same time.
Which was easier said than done.
I guess Kirika wasn't the best of the three of Soldats' Inner Trees for nothing. Even in her feverish state, wrestling her down was like trying to calm a raging tiger. Losing the mobility of her arms clearly registered as a sign of threat even in her sleeping mind. I had just managed to untangle her legs from the now more or less, ruined blanket when her feverishly eyes shot open.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that it was a bad thing given the circumstances.
Looking past me with a familiar blank expression, her eyes narrowed into slits. A sound that reminded of a growl escaped her throat as she arched her body backwards, sending the both of us tumbling. I let out a small yelp in surprise at the loss of balance when I fell while still holding onto her wrists. Taking the moment to her full advantage, she wrapped her legs around my midsection, locking us in what could have been a rather interesting position if it wasn't for forty degrees worth of a fever.
Not even pausing to look up, she moved again. Tightening the hold around me to an almost choking level as she made a violent pull, tugging me sideward as her grip around my hands strengthened.
The whole unpredicted wrestling match was over in a few seconds, our positions were now reverted. She had seized me in an iron grip, her legs locking the lower part of my body in a highly efficient judo lock while my arms were above my head, pressed down against the bed with her whole weight backing it. I stared up at her rather unfocused eyes, her breathing were now ragged to the grade where she was whimpering.
Fever dreams. And by the looks of it, bad ones.
"Kirika…?" My voice sounded dry and a bit shaken. I didn't dare to move, afraid to upset her and trigger another aggressive reaction by the slightest action. She lowered her head and became still, for a moment, the only sound that could be heard in the apartment was her choked breathing. We stayed like that for an extended moment that seemed like hours, her body was still rigid, alert and ready for anything as she merely stared down at me. Her eyes still unfocused, blurred but never losing its dangerous edge while she traced my face with a look that reminded me of a wounded predator.
Her furious strength seemed to drain all of sudden as she let go of my hands, her legs buckled as she fell and sprawled over my body. I was just in time to catch her limp form in my arms. Placing a soothing hand over her chin, I lifted her and cradled her now unmoving body against me to give her some more warmth. She let out an incomprehensible mumble into my neck as she stirred.
Being the youngest child of an aristocratic family had never given me any chance to test my more maternal sides. And never, even in my wildest fantasies, had I ever imagined in my earlier training days that I would end up taking care of sick high school aged girl. I could only recall blurry images of my mother and Marie holding my brother when he was sick to console him and the warmth of mother's arms when it was me who had fallen ill. Yet it felt strangely familiar if not natural to hold Kirika tightly against me in her fragility caused by the fever. I wonder if this was how my mother had felt while holding us in her arms, a warm feeling of cradling something loved to you by protecting it in your own embrace. She was still mumbling and seemed restless as her eyes wandered back and forth until finally settling on my face.
Sing.
I blinked. Where had that come from?
But nevertheless, by some unknown instinct, I did.
The tune I picked was neither one I knew or could recall, but it was a song. The humming sound that escaped my lips held no grandiose nor refined a melody, still it sang like water against a shore. Brushing, soothing –yet strong in it's tune while it filled our silent apartment. Maybe it was something I had picked up in my early days in Corsica or something I had heard across the world, but right now, I doubted that anyone could really trace the origin of this song as my mind brimmed by its simple beauty. The elders on Corsica had often talked about Sacred Remaints, songs of ancient times and ages which humanity could no longer remember. The tales spoke of songs which may have originated from the Garden of Eden, or born when man had learned to love. I had never believed in those folktales but now, I must doubt, if the tune which emerged from the hidden parts of my bloodstained soul was not what I once would have laughed at.
A tune singed among lovers.
A song passed from mother to child.
A hymn, or token, men in generations have passed to the loved ones in our lives.
It was a song my mother had sung when she had held me to her chest, still weak from childbirth yet strong in her joy. A tune my father had hummed for me and my brother while we had drifted to sleep at night. And it was the same melody which I now sang for Kirika, to sooth her fever and mind as she lay in my arms.
And it felt right.
She was my loved one, whom my heart had decided to give the song. And undoubtedly, I would hear it again, sung by her, as I drifted to sleep in the future.
A tear rolled down my chin and landed on her face as the silent tune came to an end. She looked up at me, calm and with eyes suddenly filled with wonder. The pallid light bathed her delicate skin in a pale shade of silver, I traced my finger down her flushed chin and smiled, as she opened her mouth to speak. Her fever was still raging but the dreams seemed to have left her at least, or maybe not completely by the contrasting look of relieved happiness on her face.
"I'm glad…" Her lips curled up to a relieved smile. She lifted her arms, like if they were weighted down with lead and encircled my torso. "I'm glad you're alive…"
Did she dream of me dying?
"I thought I had- I'm so sorry…!" She was whimpering now, her reddish maroon eyes were brimming with tears as she tightened her embrace around me. Oh god, was she dreaming of someone she had killed, mistaking me for that person?
"… can't atone. I… please…" Her body was trembling in cracked sobs as she stared into my eyes, like a damned seeking salvation. Her fingers clutched against my bared skin to an almost painful level while tears were now freely spilling out from her eyes. My heart cramped in pain at seeing her like this, but this was all we could do, until her fever had subsided.
"Shhh, it's ok, I'm here Kirika, I'm fine." I said, catching her eyes between the violent sobs. Whoever she thought I was must have held an important role in her life, and I wondered if this was not one of the painful ordeals of her past that were best left forgotten. The fever must have reawakened some of her memories, to replay themselves as dreams in the fever state where reality and imagination easily blurred.
"I promise- I…!" The eye contact was almost painful to bear as I met her heartbroken gaze. But I couldn't help but feel a bit curious despite the circumstances.
Kirika's past had always remained something of a mystery for both of us through our relationship. It was with little possibility a happy one consider that she had been in the hands of Soldats probably since birth and, due to the twisted tradition of difference in upbringing among the Inner Trees, she had been the one who had been neglected of even a name. No, maybe it was best to let the past be forgotten, certainly if recalled memories could bring her pain like this.
I rocked her shaking body back and forth, hoping that the maternal action would bring her some comfort.
"I'll take care of her…"
Wha…? Take care of who? The sudden stream of words from the usually introvert girl was startling to being with, was she really dreaming or just imagining things?
"Thank you, shhh- it's ok. Everything will be fine." I whispered. My voice choked from emotions. Her pain was hard to watch, as it became my pain as well.
"Really?" There was genuine joy in her eyes at my every word, like if she was clinging to a shadow which could dispense at any moment.
"Really, everything will be fine tomorrow when you wake up… I'll stay here, beside you." Her grip around me was getting desperate while her sobbing got worse, there seemed to be no end to her tears as she leaned herself against me. I cuddled her even closer, literally crushing her into my arms like a woman to her dying lover.
"You will? De… despite what I d…?" She was suddenly thrown backwards by a couple of violent coughs, but still refusing to release our eye contact as she struggled for air and tried to talk. When she finally settled down, she was clearly out of breath. I massaged her back to make breathing easier while feeding her a few mouthful of water. She smiled weakly at me, so serene that I almost forgot that she was fever dreaming, mistaking me for someone else from a buried past.
"Yes, I'll stay and sing for you…shhh, sleep now." I whispered into her hair.
"Tha…nk y…ou…" I was relieved when her eyes began to fog again in sleepiness, her voice weaker than ever as she looked at me. Her eyes blank from sickness while contrasting between her both sides. "Y..ou are s-so kind, like h-her…." She whispered. Serenity and death in battled over her features as she slowly glided into, hopefully, a more peaceful sleep.
"I-I'll take ca…care of Mireille f…for you…" Her eyelids fluttered as she turned those reddish maroon orbs towards me a last time, still refusing to let go.
I'll be her strength.
"…Mrs Bouquet ……I promise… " And she was gone, asleep, leaving me flabbergasted in utter disbelief and astonishment at the last name uttered by my slumbering partner.
Mother?
It was hard to tell if it had all been imagination or truly a cruel replay of her childhood memories.
I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty over the whole thing, being forced to face someone you killed over ten years ago in the midst of a raging fever couldn't exactly be a highlight. But, Kirika had been happy hadn't she…? The respect and not to mention, joy, in her eyes at the sight of my mother's illusion matched the emotions those soulful reddish eyes so often projected at me. This was, in the least, surprising and intriguing on my part if nothing else. By my rather bleak and lacking knowledge of my young partner's past, I could not recall that Kirika should have more relations to my late mother than, by the twists of fate, being her murderer.
Or did she…?
I doubt many, if anyone but those who now resided in their graves knew where Kirika had spent her earlier years in life. By what she had told me about the ordeal in the manor, she had at some point been taken to the forgotten Garden of Soldats at an early age. Which meant, that she had not been fulltime brought up in eastern Asia, and judging by her mastership of all the greater languages in the world, it was likely that she had never resided in one country, or continent for more than a few years.
Could it really be, that the two most important persons in my life, linked tragically by Altena's fabricated fate, had actually, in lack of better terms, known each other? The thought was overwhelming if not surreal that mother could have known Kirika at that age, a Corsican aristocrat and a precious candidate for the Noir project. But if that was taken as a premise, Kirika's feverish illusions could indeed be given a logical explanation.
I rubbed my temples tiredly at the swarming, and if truth, overwhelming thoughts that circled my sleepriddled mind. Looking down at her sleeping figure between the sheets, I curled my lips into a small smile. The nerve of this girl, blabbering out all that and leaving me here with myriads of confused theories while she herself was happily snoozing off. I traced a finger down her delicate, now peaceful face, following her profile with my touch as I lay down again, reclaiming my place beside her. Pulling the covers even tighter around our bodies, I sighed. Whatever musings and wild theories could bring three am, it would have to wait. Kirika's recover was first hand prioritized above all the curiosity in the world. Slipping one arm around her slim waist and pulling her close, I continued my examination of her angelic face on a closer scale.
Yes, if there had even been a hint of truth in Kirika's ramblings, she would indeed be an angel sent by above.
A guardian angel sent by mother, bound by a promise to protect me.
I could feel the tears pressing behind my now closed eyes, Kirika mumbled something incoherent in her sleep as she draped an arm around me, placing the other hand sluggishly against my belly. It had been rather obvious for some time now that this silent, introvert girl loved me, like I equal obviously returned those feelings. But few times had I, if ever, questioned how deep those red coloured emotions really ran in me. Life was a short business for an assassin, and maybe had I taken things to lightly, trying to get as much out of our relationship as possible in the time we still had left to wander this soiled world.
Never had I considered how lucky I really was, or how loved I had been in all my life. My parents' love, rebounded and was now engraved as a testament in Kirika by mother, powered tenfold by the girl's own love and respect. I felt ashamed that I had neglected and apparently missed just how deep this girl's feelings ran. The emotions hidden behind her eyes while looking at me, was not only her but also those of my departed mother. This was even more a reason for me to feel ashamed. Kirika was not only my life partner and lover, she was also a living proof of my parents' feelings and to what ends they had been prepared to go to protect me. This soundly sleeping girl beside me harboured, rather ironically, the true heritance of my family, not my pride nor my sorrows but their love in its absolute, most crimson shade.
That was a lot, for someone like me.
I pulled my hand through her mop of unruly dark brown hair while reflecting on what I owned this enigmatic girl of the Far East. She whimpered and snuggled closer, resting her chin in her favourite place, the crook of my neck. Could I be happier really? Than holding my most precious loved one like this, close to me like a mother to her newborn. In a way, she was what my mother left me, a testament of how much she had loved me as a parent. I should have seen it in her, the purpose and motivation in those merciless eyes while looking at me. I should have seen one step further, beyond the passion and protectiveness.
I should have, but now I do.
Mother still looked after me, after all those years when I haven't visited their graves even once.
Kirika loved me, like a whole person. Those eyes, of the beast and the girl were now the same, aiming at the same goal and for the same purpose.
And what more could I ask for?
Mireille…?
Yes?
I had a dream…
Oh? Tell me about it.
I met a really nice lady…
Did you know her?
Yes, I think so, she held me in her arms… is this strange?
Not at all, go on.
She taught me something important.
Hmm?
That olive trees… … are the best for hide and seek.
Someone was nuzzling my hair when I was able to collect my mind again, dim shades of the first morning light danced across the room when I blinked the sleep from my eyes.. I fluttered my eyes open to greet her, knowing that she would be waiting as always. Eyes of the beast met me, fierce, violent and god, maddening attractive. I took a deep intake, lingering in her smell as she played with my hair, wrapping my blonde locks around her index finger while eyeing me with a familiar look of hungry mischief. Fever gone it seemed, and all her wariness with it.
She did not give me time to protest as she reached out and pulled me towards her, a playful glint in those reddish orbs of passion, ready to drown me anytime I asked.
"Now?" I half yawned, half giggled. Face lesser than an inch from mine, noses brushing as I could taste her sweet breath. Her eyes were burning, not longer of fever but restrained desire as she moved her lower body, making her intentions perfectly clear. I felt my pulse quicken to match my breath, tingling ecstasy beginning to cloud my senses as all thoughts of sleep fled my sense of reason.
She was definitely cured.
"Now."
Not a suggestion, neither a plea. It was one word spoken as a command, which I more than happily obeyed.
Kirika?
Mm?
Come back down, the food is getting cold.
Coming.
Aren't we a little to old for tree climbing?
I like it.
Hmm? Playful little kitten aren't you?
…… Mireille?
Yes?
Have you ever climbed one?
She is beautiful, stretching over me like a fallen angel to shield my body against the surrounding world. I would trade my place in heaven anytime for this, heck, I would probably sign a contract with Mr Horn himself if he asked me.
Movement.
Warm silky skin against my flesh as my breathing paces up, her hands guiding, steering and raising me towards our common sanctuary. Her teeth rasping against my neck as I arch myself back, closing in the distance, melting into her warmth to give her better access. I can hear the small growl in the back of her throat, a sign of satisfaction at my eagerness and I smile, intending to be no lesser than her. She lets out a hiss in tortured anticipation as my own hands join hers, determined to prove, that which was for her alone.
Eyes.
There's no mercy and I certainly didn't need any as the beast leans in to begin its feast, encircling and devouring me like a demon with no name. I do not plead, nor do I beg as I reach aback towards her. Not in submission but encouragement as we match in our passion, souls intertwining in the most primal logics of life while loving to the tunes of an unwritten song. Proving to the fading night that we are one, matching goddesses of sin, one soul sharing the same darkness.
For that is what we are.
Two women bounded by fate, sharpened by hate and strengthened by love. The eternal darkness of human sin, Noir.
Voices.
Mireille?
Mmm…?
Can I … … sing for you?
Of course, why so sudden thou?
Does that matter?
Guess not. Go on, I'm listening. Which song?
I… don't know. I heard it only once.
And you learned it? Impressive.
I think I heard it in… a dream.
Oh?
The sunrays danced across my face as I rested beside her still form, lying as close as our skin would let us touch. My hair spilled across the sheets, still damp from sweat by the rigorousness of our previous activities. Her breath tickled my neck as I felt her calming presence resting into a relaxed half daze, literally purring in fulfilled satisfaction. Her one hand caressing my back in slow leisurely strokes as the other rested against my hips, making sure that I stayed where she wished me to be.
Like there were any other places I had rather be.
Tranquillity.
The nice lady… and someone else… sang it for me.
………
Mireille…?
Nothing… Let's hear it then.
And so, she sang.
-Fin
*********
Oh well, sorry folks but that's all. ^_^ I haven't really planned to write more parts in this particular serie, but who knows where my sense writing blows, maybe some day… :D
And ah, Those vampire stories popping up here and there lately kinda sent my mind boggling to write an Alternative Noir fic, I mean, Kirika as a vampy, how cool aint that eh? ^_- No? Drats… Be calm, my Noir days are far from over.
Later folks, and yet again, to you readers, I thank you. You are my inspiration and encouragement.
- Shigan, Inner Tree #4