Disclaimer: Let me list the things I view as my property in this fan fiction: Rione, Rune, Millie, The Romancers, the plot and story. I would dearly love to have an eighteen-year old Iron Maiden Jeanne as my own, too. But I can't, because she is an ideal not of this world. Besides, Marco will kill me. Or maybe I should kill Marco and then take Jeanne as my own.
Hmm, a rather interestingly tempting idea...
To all the fan fiction writers I admire, including JSF, li long, Chisaii404 and my fellow Filipino, Fluffychans.
Finally: Chapter Five is served! Itadekimasu! Ikuyo!
The Romancers
Set One: Shaman King
By: Sheo Darren
Iron Maiden and Dowser Knight
Chapter Five
A Moment to Ourselves
Never before had Lyserg ever dreamed this would come, not in his wildest fantasies, never. As the door closed behind the irate Marco, hapless Millie and unconcerned Rune; as the lock clicked into place –privacy, an illusion all on its own–, this time was sealed into eternity, recorded into history as written within his heart.
For a second that felt like a lifetime to the young dowser, unbidden came the fear that this 'once in a blue moon' moment would irrevocably break into the grimness of reality; that this was a daydream or a figment of imagination or the proverbial 'head in the clouds'.
But it was no illusion, no dream and no half-truth.
It simply was.
And deny it he could not. Deny it he would not.
For the fact was that the long-dreamed of moment –that fleur-de-lis baton of tragic D'Artagnan and The Man in the Iron Mask fame– had finally come true.
Lyserg was alone, at last, alone with his beloved Jeanne.
He turned at the sound of sparkling laughter and found its source a beautiful angel bedecked in white and blue, her artistically emboldened silvery mane rippling in the light, eyes all too evidently delighted. Jeanne looked up at him, her hand slipping back to her lap, her sight and her smile wonderful to behold.
"Poor Marco; I didn't really mean to do that to him, but I just couldn't help it. Wasn't he a funny sight, Lyserg-kun?"
And he couldn't help himself –he made himself do it, in fact. Lyserg smiled back at her with all the warmth and love that he could summon.
For he found it funny as well: Marco, that greatest of foils, had been outsmarted by a trio of girls whose actions had not been planned in the least way, but had perfectly come hand-in-hand as in any Broadway stage play. It was as if Fate –that fickle instrumental angel of God– had decided to admit this one kink in her previously faultless tapestry, and then God had heartily helped out for a change.
All of that just to pick on a certain abominable X-Laws.
And some people say God is an old man with no sense of humor at all, and Fate a cranky old grandmother stuck with knitting sweaters.
But Lyserg was not interested in the why. He was interested only in the now, the moment itself and whatever would come out of it.
And he quickly but earnestly prayed that he make the most out of it.
"Lyserg-kun, won't you sit down?"
"Hai, Maiden-sama." He made a gesture to take a chair from nearby but caught Jeanne cutely shaking her head.
The girl who was the Iron Maiden patted a spot on her bed, a spot that happened to be a distance of one inch beside her.
"Please sit here, Lyserg-kun."
Left alone once more –technically incorrect, considering she wasn't really alone– Rione Asuka Hunter flicked open her mini communicator and began:
"Romancers Report: Agent on station is Hunter, Rione Asuka. Subjects confirmed as Diethyl, Lyserg and Jeanne, Iron Maiden (if that's her first name?) Subjects are alone with each other and in a good position to resolve their crisis on their own. No immediate hindrances, not even that annoying bespectacled killjoy or that creepy puppet guy."
Taking in a quick breath, she added, "I guess this is it. Either they say 'Yes' or 'No'. I'll watch what happens next. If it's good, I'll let it be. If not, I'm going in. Wish me luck, guys."
"If I ever see that Architect ever again," Rione sorely reminded herself as she turned off the communicator; "I am so going to kick his ass. Stupid Colonel Sanders rip-off messing up my head with gibberish. Poor KFC."
Then the same cutely-pitched voice from earlier piped up from her bag. "Hello? Rione? Lux! Romancers!"
Grinning, the black-clad girl tapped the contents affectionately. "Soon, soon, wait a while longer. Promise to behave a little while longer; you'll be in the thick of things soon enough."
"Sugoi, sugoi! Promise!"
"Good." Brushing back a few tardy fronds of her dark hair, Rione smiled in anticipation. "The lights are on, the curtains are raised, and the act begins."
"Please sit here, Lyserg."
Jeanne was not surprised to see him hesitate at that simple command. She had already known beforehand how shy he was around girls in general and herself in particular–which was exactly why she was doing this.
"Anou? Jeanne-sama?"
"It's safe, you know; my bed won't eat you."
And Jeanne's reassuring smile and encouraging words were enough to assuage his shyness and fear of Marco. Lyserg obligingly sat down beside her and madly tried to suppress his burning cheeks. Staring at his shoes helped, but every now and then he found his eyes flicking towards the very pleasant distraction on his left –a particular object of attention who was herself also sometimes glancing back at him.
For a while they simply sat there and fiddled with their own thoughts, dwelling upon the silence and loneliness to be found in the human person. Then Jeanne began to absently play with one of her braids, daintily twirling the end of the plait and bringing it close to her lips as if to breathe upon it and so bring it to life.
Lyserg was mesmerized all too easily, the quick glimpses he snuck at her coming more frequently and lasting longer with each attempt. He felt his stomach go funny and his throat dry up and his cheeks heat up.
There was the scent of baby shampoo –a sweet-smelling garden of flowers– wafting from those silken locks, beckoning to him, teasing the young dowser's thoughts. Like how many laughing images of Jeanne danced upon a sea of flowers so gracefully, their every dainty step accompanied by angelic laughter, drops of essential oil of sweetness cascading upon her waist-long mane and her bare milky pale skin...
It was all Lyserg could do not to hit himself on the head for that thought, or to even think continuing the thread his mind was taking. Impure thoughts, evil, evil... Must not think of Jeanne-sama like that... Must not think of her in the shower... Marco will kill me if he knew... so, must not think of us in shower...
Eh?
Us in the shower?
Bad Lyserg! BAD Lyserg! Shame on you! If he ever learns of this, Marco will kill me!
NO: Marco SHOULD kill me!
From ecchi to prude to fatalist... what is happening to me?
Please don't let Maestro be reading my mind. Anything but that, please...
"Lyserg-kun?"
Jeanne found herself inordinately absorbed over the spectacle of a green-haired dowser turning tomato red right before her very eyes. Lyserg had an amusing way of expressing embarrassment: First he'd seem a touch too quiet; then the blood rapidly rose up to his cheeks as he realized whatever mistake he made, and then so cute when startled at having his name called that he'd be stuttering rapid apologies and tripping on every word.
Just like now.
"A-Anou, sorry, Jeanne-chan– err, I mean, Jeanne-sama! Um, err..."
She smiled in that beautiful way she always did, and on some strange impulse she let her hand pressed upon his own most gently. Her concern at his odd actions abated and was forgotten; his panic died away and replaced with sheepish reluctance.
Though everyone in the X-Laws was duty-bound to always respectfully address Jeanne as 'Mistress' –hence the formal –sama suffix– the girl who was the Iron Maiden secretly preferred a cutesy endearment of –chan far more than all the titles in the world. And somehow Lyserg saying it made her heart even lighter and beat faster. To hear him call her such sent a surge of emotion through her, a quick release from the heavy burden she bore daily and without question.
"It's all right, Lyserg-kun; you can address me any way you want."
"Really –I mean: No! Sorry, Jeanne-sama, I can't just– uh, it's improper of me to do that, what will Marco say..."
"Marco isn't here. But to allay your fears," and here the slightest hint of mischief showed itself in her smile, "I hereby allow you to address me in any way you like. I can give commands that you are bound to follow, ne?"
He wasn't blushing as fiercely now, but Lyserg was still highly embarrassed. "Y-Yes, Jeanne-sama– uh..."
"Jeanne-chan," the angelic girl suggested as her secretly impish delight increased. "Or just Jeanne, if you like, but I think I prefer Jeanne-chan."
He repeated it to himself several times, mainly to boost his self-confidence and convince himself that it was okay, the Iron Maiden had said–wanted it so... Maestro is not listening on us... what Marco does not know can't send said X-Laws into a homicidal rage...
"H-Hai, Jeanne– Jeanne-chan..."
"Very good, Lyserg-chan." Then, unable to restrain herself much longer, Jeanne broke into peals of laughter that intensified poor his awkwardness yet brought a smile on his face.
He said: "You look very nice when you laugh, Jeanne-sa– Jeanne-chan."
There. He'd said it. Her fit was cut short as she looked at Lyserg with a bright tint on her cheeks and her ruby eyes looking quite taken aback. She asked:
"Do you think so, Lyserg-kun?"
"Hai." No hesitation, just straight-out from-the-heart honesty that he wasn't really planning to convey. "You should smile more; your natural prettiness comes out more."
Then Lyserg realized what he was saying and began blushing again.
At least he didn't hit himself on the head, Jeanne thought, like that card game we had once when Marco and the others were off on a mission... I don't want him to get hurt in any way.
That was a fun game, though... even though it's a bit silly...
I wonder, are those cards still around?
Millie: "Hey, I just remembered I brought a card game with me today! Rune-san, would you like to play it?"
Rune: "I have never played cards, and I have not seen any like the deck you're holding."
Millie: "It's a cool game my onee-chan gave me on my birthday. It's called 'Icebreaker'. Want to try it, Rune?"
Marco: "Gambling cards are a sin, girl. Throw them away or burn them."
Millie: "But, Sir Marco!"
Rune: "Marco, unless your name is now Rune, I believe I'm the one supposed to answer."
Marco: "I was simply voicing my personal opinions, Minor. It's a free country, isn't it?"
Millie: "It's not a gambling deck, Sir Marco... it's harmless, really. Ask Lady Maiden herself, she played it..."
Marco: "WHAT?!? SHE PLAYED IT?!? WITH WHOM???"
Millie: "...um, Meene told me she played it with Diethyl-kun..."
Marco: "WHAT???!!!??? WHEN???!!!???"
Millie: "...when you had left them all alone once..."
Marco: "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTT???!!!???"
Rune: "Hmm... Interesting..."
The room stood silent, save for slight breathing and the restrained beats of their hearts.
Reluctantly –almost forcing herself not to do it– Jeanne withdrew her hand away from its warm perch. Lyserg felt the absence of that reassuring weight immediately and longed –as Jeanne was also secretly feeling– to know that presence again, to finally hold it in his own hands and never let it go.
"Lyserg-kun?" she –Jeanne– finally murmured softly.
"Yes?"
"Do you think– do you think we mean something?"
"What do you mean, Jeanne-chan?"
"I mean the X-Laws and what we're doing."
Silence, then she continued: "I've been asking myself some time now about that. Sometimes I think that with the new peace in the world and the way things are going... I think we have become an anachronism. The X-Laws was formed to combat Hao and his evil. With his final defeat, we lost the reason for our existence, the reason why we fight.
"But maybe even back then we had already... we had already failed. In the past we thought ourselves to be the one true force that would stop Hao, the ones who would bring justice to him. That was the idea behind our very order; in fact, that was the idea behind my existence all along. That was the idea of me: The Iron Maiden.
"That was the idea of Jeanne."
Her deep ruby orbs were very sad. "Am I a lie, Lyserg?"
"I was the one person who could stand up to Hao. I was the new messiah against the evils of the fallen Shaman. I was the one they could believe in: Their savior, their protector.
"And yet I was not. I was not enough; it was. I failed their lofty hopes.
"I was a lie."
She wondered why she was not crying, why the tears would not come to her eyes. Jeanne had never cried before because it was unbecoming and unlike the image of the Iron Maiden. She accepted the biting pain of her armored coffin's countless pricking knives as a necessary sacrifice. She accepted the outcome of her X-Laws killing and suffering and dying in her name and the name of humankind. She did so because there was no choice, really; that it was all for the greater good.
Or so she had been led to believe.
But what about this immense feeling of loss her heart now felt? It was beyond anything the Iron Maiden had ever felt, this emptiness, this unhappiness upon her reminisce.
Then she felt the dampness upon her cheeks, realized them as salty tears.
The Iron Maiden had shed tears at last.
She now knew the bitter truth of it all.
She was all that she had accused herself of being.
Jeanne was nothing but a lie.
"Oh, Lyserg..."
Words would not suffice. Words sometimes couldn't.
But the smallest of actions often prove enough.
He held her frail form against his own tightly but gently. He could not help it nor did he think of it –the consequences, the embarrassment, the temptations and implications all. Not even the threat of Marco and death and eternal damnation fazed him. They didn't even begin to register in his mind.
Lyserg simply hugged the mournful girl who was the Iron Maiden to himself and tried to comfort her as much as he could.
His presence was reassuring, calming. She still wept, but her sorrow was mitigated by a new knowledge: Someone understood her sadness, commiserated with her, and would always do so; such was his belief and trust in her. She was not as alone as she had once thought; there was one out there who understood her and loved her.
Yes: Loved her.
She did not care if it was a rather tender embrace that many would mistake for one thing or another. Marco would be livid with rage if he ever saw them like this. Of course the man would have the wrong ideas and go berserk. Her reputation as the Iron Maiden would also be sullied: What kind of purity was to be found in a girl who was in such close and familiar terms with a boy her age?
But this time, just this once, she didn't have to care about that. She didn't have to sacrifice anymore. This time, there was something –someone she could call her own.
And so Jeanne snuggled up close to the warm and protective presence of this loving green-haired boy and was secretly happy.
Because whatever happens, however Fate and God make the world turn, he would always be there for her.
Lyserg Diethyl would always be the dowser knight of his beloved Iron Maiden Jeanne.
From where she leaned upon the wall, her eyes closed in pensive silence, the girl in black softly murmured words to herself.
"Violet... wisteria… peach blossom... bougainvillea… peony... camellia... marigold… daisy… iris… fennel… columbines… rue…."
Her voice echoed within the room, yielding to the heart's desire of this girl.
"Dandelion… sunflower… carnation… chrysanthemum… cherry blossom… rose… geranium… daliah… cyclamen… water lily… garbela… morning glory… juniper… tulip… poinsettia… titania…"
She fell still, then, a genuflection to sweetness and fragrance and ideals of passion and love that flowers conveyed all at once.
"Gardenia."
Her eyes opened. The opal pupils were soft and understanding.
"The Japanese words for gardenia… are 'I'm happy'."
Beside her the bag lay open, empty. Around her were dozens of small shapes, bouncing and rolling and hovering whichever way they wished to play, chirruping their noisy antics and verses as they went.
"Haro! Haro!"
"Hello!"
"Lux!"
"Rione!"
"Romancers!"
Smiling slowly, reluctantly, she held a hand before her slim black-clad figure, her fingers flickering into motion. Around her, the many shapes came to a sudden, quiet halt. The silence was fateful, waiting.
Rione Asuka Hunter breathed freely.
"Showtime: Romancers."
Sheo's Thoughts: Finally, this chapter is posted. As I have duly forewarned, this entire episode is mostly fluff, but unexpectedly some serious angst had to be factored in. I'm so sorry to have taken so long to update this; I've got so many things to attend to.
Some of the things that inspired me: You're Under Arrest OAV, Full Metal Panic/Fummofu (ah, Tessa-chan), the fan fictions Beautiful© by Misai (excellent piece of work!), The Courtship of Iron Maiden Jeanne© by Angel-wing2 and Icebreaker© and Chocolate Chip Cookies© courtesy Fluffychans. I couldn't help it: Those stories were so cute and cuddly and romantic and funny! Tee-hee, gommenasai; arigatou, kawaii no Angel-wing2-kun, Fluffychans-chan... ^_^
You'll see action in the next chapter, courtesy of Rione and her miniature army of sidekicks. Yes, I did say army. Yes, you will finally learn just what it is she carries in her bag.
This time: Be unafraid. Be very unafraid.
To Chisaii404: Sorry for misspelling your name!
Reviews wanted, waited for, longed for, etc...