[Disclaimer: I don't own them, and after writing this, I'm glad I don't.
They're too deep. Besides, if I owned them, why would this be published
here?
My second fic, Tokyo Mew Mew or otherwise. Reviews, positive and negative, will be read and considered.
This is a one-shot. There will be no second chapter. Also, read my Minto fic.
Thanks, and enjoy.]
"Eh, Retasu-chan, you're looking a bit, well, chubby. Don't you think you ought to not be eating that slice of cake?"
Midorikawa Retasu looked up from the piece of strawberry cheesecake she had been slowly picking at with her fork. What did they mean by that? Sure, she was slightly chubby, but so were they. So was everyone, in fact. Until they got older, taller, longer, they would all have some baby fat on them. But now Retasu was having doubts. Maybe this wasn't normal, or there was something wrong with her, or she just plain ate too much. Yes, she worked at a cafe where there was pretty cakes and delicate pastries around her every day, but it wasn't like she ate them all the time, not any more than Ichigo or Purin at least. Could it be that she was gaining weight just by smelling them? That didn't sound logical, but you would never know. Retasu was smart, but she didn't know everything, and she wasn't too good with the little facts.
She could have said the same thing right back to them. But, why didn't she? Something stopped her. There was always something she could have said right back to those girls, to make them stop teasing her, being cruel for no reason in particular to her. Why didn't she say it? So many questions, and Retasu didn't know the answers to any of them. It seemed she was always asking questions about herself. Doubt. That was what it was. She doubted herself.
But that just came back to the main question: why did she put up with this, every day at school? It wasn't to have friends. Retasu easily had other friends at the cafe, Ichigo, Minto, Purin, Zakuro. They were kind to her, didn't make fun of her, and weren't cruel or mean. She didn't really understand them, but then again, they never understood her. They had some sort of beautiful balance; they didn't ask questions, only accepted each other for who they were and what they did.
The other girls had never had some sort of balance with her. They shared with her personal secrets, but she didn't get the feeling that they were confiding in her as a friend. They never wanted to listen to her, only to talk. And when she did share a differing opinion, they ridiculed her, calling it incorrect or pointless. What kind of a relationship was that, to only speak one way? It was either agree with every idea, or suffer. Retasu didn't want to suffer, so she agreed.
Although, despite their differences, their hatred, and their cold demeanor, there was something beautiful about those other girls. Not beautiful like a fresh spring flower or a frolicking dolphin, but beautiful as in a cold, cold morning, or a carved, sharp, deadly sword. Painful, unwelcoming, but beautiful. And in a way, there was a beauty that they brought out in her. It may sound strange, but there is something beautiful about a suffering soul, straining against the bonds of reality. A sick beauty, just like there is beauty in both death as well as life. A disgusting beauty that made you sick to your stomach, but that you couldn't turn away from, like a butterfly slowly being crushed by a child, or a whale dying under its own weight on a beach. Retasu felt that sort of beauty like an aurora around her.
And finally, why she stayed. Drawn like a moth to a lamp after dusk, Retasu staggered hopelessly toward that deadly beauty. She couldn't turn away. That was what made her fellow soldiers different from these girls. They had a fresh, gorgeous beauty. Retasu had learned to avoid that beauty, that true beautiful shine of a pure soul. It would be her doom.
But there was something more than that. There was the hope that one day, she could save them, and melt the steel of their sword-like souls down, and sculpt them into something much like a steel sculpture in a garden. Art. Gorgeous, pure, but hard and cold at the same time. Maybe, just maybe if she kept trying, she could save their souls and make them truly beautiful. But to do that, she had to sacrifice her self esteem, her love. Her hope for something brighter. Retasu had to sacrifice herself.
"Ah...well...maybe you're right. Would you like the rest of my cake?"
Someday she would fight herself free and become truly beautiful. But until then, she would sleep within a deadly, steel shadow.
My second fic, Tokyo Mew Mew or otherwise. Reviews, positive and negative, will be read and considered.
This is a one-shot. There will be no second chapter. Also, read my Minto fic.
Thanks, and enjoy.]
"Eh, Retasu-chan, you're looking a bit, well, chubby. Don't you think you ought to not be eating that slice of cake?"
Midorikawa Retasu looked up from the piece of strawberry cheesecake she had been slowly picking at with her fork. What did they mean by that? Sure, she was slightly chubby, but so were they. So was everyone, in fact. Until they got older, taller, longer, they would all have some baby fat on them. But now Retasu was having doubts. Maybe this wasn't normal, or there was something wrong with her, or she just plain ate too much. Yes, she worked at a cafe where there was pretty cakes and delicate pastries around her every day, but it wasn't like she ate them all the time, not any more than Ichigo or Purin at least. Could it be that she was gaining weight just by smelling them? That didn't sound logical, but you would never know. Retasu was smart, but she didn't know everything, and she wasn't too good with the little facts.
She could have said the same thing right back to them. But, why didn't she? Something stopped her. There was always something she could have said right back to those girls, to make them stop teasing her, being cruel for no reason in particular to her. Why didn't she say it? So many questions, and Retasu didn't know the answers to any of them. It seemed she was always asking questions about herself. Doubt. That was what it was. She doubted herself.
But that just came back to the main question: why did she put up with this, every day at school? It wasn't to have friends. Retasu easily had other friends at the cafe, Ichigo, Minto, Purin, Zakuro. They were kind to her, didn't make fun of her, and weren't cruel or mean. She didn't really understand them, but then again, they never understood her. They had some sort of beautiful balance; they didn't ask questions, only accepted each other for who they were and what they did.
The other girls had never had some sort of balance with her. They shared with her personal secrets, but she didn't get the feeling that they were confiding in her as a friend. They never wanted to listen to her, only to talk. And when she did share a differing opinion, they ridiculed her, calling it incorrect or pointless. What kind of a relationship was that, to only speak one way? It was either agree with every idea, or suffer. Retasu didn't want to suffer, so she agreed.
Although, despite their differences, their hatred, and their cold demeanor, there was something beautiful about those other girls. Not beautiful like a fresh spring flower or a frolicking dolphin, but beautiful as in a cold, cold morning, or a carved, sharp, deadly sword. Painful, unwelcoming, but beautiful. And in a way, there was a beauty that they brought out in her. It may sound strange, but there is something beautiful about a suffering soul, straining against the bonds of reality. A sick beauty, just like there is beauty in both death as well as life. A disgusting beauty that made you sick to your stomach, but that you couldn't turn away from, like a butterfly slowly being crushed by a child, or a whale dying under its own weight on a beach. Retasu felt that sort of beauty like an aurora around her.
And finally, why she stayed. Drawn like a moth to a lamp after dusk, Retasu staggered hopelessly toward that deadly beauty. She couldn't turn away. That was what made her fellow soldiers different from these girls. They had a fresh, gorgeous beauty. Retasu had learned to avoid that beauty, that true beautiful shine of a pure soul. It would be her doom.
But there was something more than that. There was the hope that one day, she could save them, and melt the steel of their sword-like souls down, and sculpt them into something much like a steel sculpture in a garden. Art. Gorgeous, pure, but hard and cold at the same time. Maybe, just maybe if she kept trying, she could save their souls and make them truly beautiful. But to do that, she had to sacrifice her self esteem, her love. Her hope for something brighter. Retasu had to sacrifice herself.
"Ah...well...maybe you're right. Would you like the rest of my cake?"
Someday she would fight herself free and become truly beautiful. But until then, she would sleep within a deadly, steel shadow.