"Missing"
Disclaimer : Yes, I am a GinjixNatsumi pimp. It's a weakness of mine so go ahead and kill me. But don't sue. For while I have but one life to give for the sake of this lame excuse of a fic, I absolutely have no money. Whatsoever. :D
A/N : Fluffy post-canon one-shot in two parts (uh, two-shot?) set a year after the end of the ongoing "Lost Time" manga arc. Contains details from both anime and manga-verse plus minor spoilers concerning Paul. Semi-AU, since with all the crack that's going on right now in Act 12? Anyone who can even remotely guess who's gonna survive; who's related to who; who or what the heck Akabane REALLY is; and what Pandora's box the three Keys are supposed to open - will win the whole Internet.
Hey, is this "Lost" or what?
Anyway, enjoy!
I.
POP! Chorus of surprised, delighted gasps.
"Oh!" Mizuki Natsumi exclaimed, slightly jumping back as a cork sailed past her face and a fizzing cloud of bubbles gushed forth from the nozzle of a bottle and over Wan Paul's hand. He poured the effervescent drink into the glass flute she was holding.
The Honky Tonk owner put down the bottle of his best champagne on the bar, wiped his drenched hand on a rag, and slowly reached into his apron pocket for an envelope. Paul's gesture was as anxious and careful as that of a rookie surgeon deliberately lifting out a broken, still-beating heart. He slid the packet against the waitress's palm and gently curled her fingers around it.
"Your last paycheck -- and a little something extra that I hope will cover the cost of your books, or… or… whatever." Sheepishly, Paul's other hand grasped uncomfortably at his bandanna-covered redhead.
Speechless, Natsumi set her glass down on the scratched, well-worn counter she had lovingly cleaned and tended for nearly four years and gaped at the plain white envelope. She could vaguely make out the outlines of a check and a couple of folded sheaths of paper which she surmised was a hand-written farewell letter.
Her shiny chrome eyes drifted upwards to gaze at the wise, sadly smiling face of her now former employer, finally resting on the twin black abysses of his glasses. Natsumi knew not what secrets and sins and pains and curses were held within those enigmatic, hidden eyes; nor did she care. But even behind the convenient screen of his lenses, the young woman could swear Paul's eyes were softly misting over.
A tear of her own welled up which she tried to blink back, but it fell anyway. "Master, you shouldn't have." Natsumi sniffled. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry. However, intuition told her it was a vow that was fated to be broken, and sure enough, it was. Wiping the tear away with the side of her forefinger, she flew at the café owner and threw her arms around him.
"Thank you. Thank you so much for taking me in and giving me a job, and letting me meet all these wonderful people, and…" Natsumi mumbled into his apron. "…I'm going to miss all of you."
Paul patted her head, silently telling her she needn't say anymore. For a second, he worried about how a barely-sixteen-year-old waitress embracing her boss might be misconstrued as inappropriate behaviour. Apparently, he forgot that as of ten minutes ago, she was now the almost nineteen-year-old former employee; heading off to university to begin the next phase of her charmed, adult life.
No one noticed as Paul closed his eyes and felt his heart go heavy. He thought that for everything he'd been through, he was already immune to the sense of loss, having lost so much in his solitary life - time, partners, battles… opportunities. After all, hadn't that been the reason he gave up on his power and privilege to put up this hole-in-the-wall? A place where he would have nothing else to lose but money?
However, Natsumi's impending departure came as a sad reminder that even if what was lost could eventually be recovered, the feelings of loss would never totally be erased.
Natsumi, the high school waitress, would be gone forever.
"I'm sure you'll soon have a reason--or two--to visit us as much as you can," Paul cryptically said, a knowing grin cutting through the grimness in his expression.
A pair of thin, bangled arms encircled Natsumi's waist from behind. "Do you have to leave so soon, sempai?" Sendou Rena trebled as she snuggled her head on the other girl's shoulder. "I think I need more coaching. My coffee's still not as good as yours. Master might fire me!"
Paul sighed amidst the hug of his two teenage assistants. Rena was being overly dramatic as usual.
Natsumi turned and pinched the wild child on the cheek. "Rena-chan, you know perfectly well your coffee is as good as Master's. I mean it should be. It only took you two years." She giggled with the exasperation of a sibling messing around with a precocious kid sister.
"Yeah, and two years of getting our stomachs pumped," Mido Ban added.
Rena pulled down a lower lid with her finger and stuck her tongue out at the sea urchin head.
Ban scrunched up his nose and vaulted gracefully into the bar. "Ugh! All this sentimental sap is making me sick!" he said as he positioned himself behind Natsumi and began untying the strings of her apron.
"Ban-san!" she gasped. A bright pink tint feathered up her cheeks and Ban's deft fingers flimsily grazed her clothes as he made short work of the fabric. In the years Natsumi had known him, the hentai never once attempted any of his infamous gropes on her. The girl held her breath. She hoped he wasn't about to start now that she was leaving.
But her fears were unfounded as the spiky-haired retriever whisked the apron off over her head and carelessly tossed it onto the counter. "Now that you've been released from the command of this cheapskate Nazi, feel free to treat us all you want," Ban simpered. He then swept the waitress into his arms. "You're an ordinary customer now."
Natsumi shrieked and instinctively latched on to her captor's neck. Briefly, their eyes met. She'd always been intimidated and somewhat terrified of looking into those stormy blue oceans that could drown souls. But to her happy discovery, they were now placid and pristine as mountain lakes; twinkling fondly, kindly, and--she could swear--with affection.
Ban and Natsumi traded playful smiles as he gently sat her down on the lacquered bar, whence Emishi Haruki took over by lifting her off and setting her down on the floor. He handed the champagne glass back to Natsumi and raised his own.
"This calls for a toast, don't you think?" the whip master announced.
The guest of honour cringed slightly with embarrassment as all heads turned to face her. Ban volunteered to lead the toast by standing up on the counter and holding up the nearly empty bottle of champagne.
"Natsumi-chan…" he said, in one of the rare instances he used an honorific to address someone.
Everybody braced themselves for whatever was about to spew from the snake man's notoriously foul mouth - whether it be a crude pun or a humiliating roast.
"… may your new life treat you as well as you have treated all of us poor, hapless fools." Ban lost the raspy harshness of his smoke-ravaged voice, sounding almost like a different person. "Because no tab, no amount of money in the world will ever be enough to repay you for how much you've cared. And for that, we can only wish you find the thing that will make you the happiest girl on earth…"
He tilted his violet specs down and winked at the angel who had fed, fretted, and fussed over the destitute GetBackers all those years. However, before shouting out his cheer, Ban glanced stealthily at the tousled nest of golden hair below him. The owner's head was downcast, his fingers limply hanging onto the stem of his flute. Lifting his gaze, Ban couldn't help but smile.
"Cheers!"
A muted, stunned second passed as the crowd was caught by surprise at this uncharacteristic display of sensitivity and poignancy from the Jagan master. Finally, they chorused in agreement.
"Cheers!"
Natsumi swung a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, but she couldn't stop the tears from drizzling past her cheeks as the party - comprised of an eclectic assortment of underground professionals, VOLTS members, the odd Honky Tonk regular customer, and Natsumi's high school friends - drank to her success and began gathering around to shower hugs, kisses, and best wishes.
"Remember, Natsumi-chan, college isn't just about drinking parties and dating the whole baseball team," HEVN joked as she rumpled the younger girl's hair.
"Don't worry, I hardly think she's going to turn into you," Fuuchouin Kazuki snidely remarked with a chuckle.
"Well, if you ever happen to get a single Nobel Prize-winning scientist for a professor, send him my way, would you?" she chirped.
Natsumi laughed. "Sure, if I ever get my nose out of a book long enough to notice."
Otowa Madoka gingerly padded over, while a more grizzled, but just as rambunctious Mozart pawed at the waitress. Madoka reached out and entwined her friend's hand within her slender fingers - one of them sporting a platinum-and-diamond solitaire ring. The two raven-haired women exchanged girlish giggles.
"Promise you'll come back to be a bridesmaid at my wedding, okay?" the blind violinist whispered mirthfully into her ear.
A few feet away, Fuyuki Shido's keen beastly hearing caught the snippet of conversation and flushed. One could swear he just mimicked a flamingo.
Next, Kudo Himiko cut in and offered a quick hug. "Sorry to drop in and run, but I've got a job in an hour. I just stopped by to wish you luck and to give you this -"
The diminutive transporter slipped a tiny glass vial out of her belt and into Natsumi's hand. "Sleep Scent… for self-defense and stuff. One pinch is enough to knock out any college jerk out cold for hours," she explained with a smirk. "Someone as pretty as you might find it useful."
Natsumi stared in awe at the proud, confident eighteen-year-old in front of her. She had always admired the hakobiya's independence, skill, and pluck; especially as she braved her terrible curse. But a year after surviving the trials and changing her fate, fortunately, Himiko seemed much happier, less bitter, and more open to trust. Natsumi's only regret was that she couldn't have known her better. They were different as night and day, poles apart like Ban was to Ginji; but Natsumi hoped someday she and Himiko could eventually be friends. She smiled gratefully.
"Thank you, Himiko-san. This is very sweet of you."
"No problem at all. Besides, your leaving is probably a good thing. I'd like to see just how long those two dorks can live without your charity," Himiko said and gave Natsumi a final squeeze. She then turned and headed down the corridor.
"See 'ya around, Ban."
From his sitting perch on the bar, Ban waved lackadaisically. "If it's to save your ass again, I hope not."
"Ugh." She rolled her eyes and snorted. Before huffing out the door in a noisy protest of door chimes, Himiko flipped the brunette a dirty finger.
Soon thereafter, when most everybody got their chance to proffer regards, they swarmed over the spread of sushi, sake, and a big vanilla-frosted chocolate cake. Meanwhile, Natsumi remained dumbfoundedly rooted to her spot. She had been genuinely surprised at the outpour of support and sentiments on this, the closing hour on her final shift of her last day at the Honky Tonk. It puzzled the young woman to think she meant this much to these people. After all, she was only a waitress. What possible help had she been to them over the years other than to serve coffee and sandwiches and patch them up with bandages after a particularly rough assignment?
Natsumi's luminous eyes surveyed the boisterous crush of party guests milling between the balloons and confetti. Wistfully, she realised she would probably never again meet such extraordinary characters in her life. They with their great powers, tragic histories, and shared connection with that shell of a monster outside called Mugenjou. She felt lucky enough just to have known them at all, watching them triumph over that giant menace and finally bringing it back into the sphere of real time - and the real world.
They were saviours, heroes… all of them. Especially the two who called themselves GetBackers - even though the rest of Tokyo would never know it. But Natsumi knew, knew their sacrifice. And it was a secret she would treasure forever.
At last, the corner of her sight caught a glimpse of the person she was trying to find amid the crowd. He sat hunched on a bar stool with eyes askew from her direction, and - curiously - nowhere near the food he loved so much.
Natsumi dragged her eyes away and nibbled on her bottom lip. Amano Ginji had yet to amble over and greet her, and neither had he said anything, something, to her for the past couple of days. She wondered what he was thinking, if she had offended him somehow; if he was happy for her; or even if he cared at all. The waitress certainly didn't want to leave the Honky Tonk that night without them exchanging proper goodbyes, much less go not knowing whether she'd made some sort of mistake that bothered him so.
Natsumi felt a hot, sinking weight encumber her, like she was about to be overcome by the flu. Sighing deeply, she decided she needed some air. Picking up her discarded favourite apron off the counter, Natsumi quietly shuffled towards the coat rack where she hung it on the peg for one last time. Lovingly smoothening the apron out of its creases, she then wrapped her rainbow-coloured wool scarf around her neck, opened the door a crack, and snuck out with the bells hardly registering.
At the opposite end of the counter, Ban noticed Natsumi's exit in the periphery of his vision. Jauntily, he dangled his legs next to Ginji's moping form while the blond continued to stare absent-mindedly at the cake, reading and re-reading what was written on it in red icing as Rena began to cut it into slices. Farewell, Natsumi!
"You can't have your cake and eat it, too, you know," Ban quipped as he put his foot on Ginji's seat and unsubtly started to nudge his partner's butt off it.
"Huh?" Rudely awoken from his daze, Ginji frowned to see the tip of Ban's shoe firmly planted against his posterior. Then, intuitively, his eyes darted everywhere; growing wider and wider with panic and dismay as he failed to catch a flash of a blue-black ponytail.
Ban jerked his thumb towards the door and crammed a chuckle back down his throat. "Outside," he simply said.
Ginji's perplexed gaze focused on Natsumi's lime-green coat on the rack. She forgot her coat, he thought and instantly jumped off the stool.
Kazuki sidled over and daintily laid a hand on his former leader's back. "Ginji-san, would you like some dessert?" he asked and held up a saucer of cake in front of him.
Ginji barely gave it a second glance. "Um, thanks, Kazu-chan. Maybe… maybe later," Ginji replied with indifference.
Kazuki nodded and faintly smiled.
Not knowing what to do with the champagne in his hand, he hurriedly downed it in one gulp and coughed a bit before skipping to the row of hooks next to the exit.
"I'll be back in a while," Ginji said. Taking Natsumi's coat, he gripped the door handle and hesitated for a moment before finally pulling it open.
As the ringing of the door chimes faded, Ban cradled his chin in his palm while Paul crossed his arms and leaned on the refrigerator. "Paul?"
"Yeah?"
"Before we came along, you managed to get a along without an assistant just fine," the retriever wondered. "What made you decide to hire Natsumi in the first place?"
Paul lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and merely grinned.
●●●
Still nursing her glass of champagne (she would drink it eventually, she thought, it was Cristal, after all), Natsumi wrapped her arms around herself. She hadn't expected it to be this cold out as a nipping breeze suddenly whipped up from the north and swirled about her. But she knew it would be awkward to go back and get her coat, so Natsumi continued walking the dim, desolate side street she knew so well.
Officially, it was supposed to be spring, but the bite of winter was still clinging stubbornly to those last days of March. Gray days, it seemed, to match the loneliness Natsumi felt as she counted the minutes and hours before the onset of April - and the beginning of her new life in a new city. It was only a two-and-a-half-hour Shinkansen train ride away, but to the sheltered young woman, it might as well be a lifetime away - from the comfortable constancy of her home, family, and friends…
… and those two boys.
Natsumi blinked rapidly and halted beside the GetBackers' white Ladybug. Preciously gliding her hand over the car's smooth finish, she peeked into the window and took a mental snapshot of its adorably dishevelled interior - worn blankets draped over the seats, dirty laundry crumpled on the floor, winter jackets piled in the back. She then passed her fingers in caress against the cold curve of the aluminum roof frame. This was Ban and Ginji's home, their humble sanctuary which she occasionally shared when they brought her along on trips to the beach or hot springs.
Natsumi blushed and giggled as she remembered the time she and Madoka had to bail Shido and the GetBackers out of police custody after they trashed the mountain village near Madoka's cottage. That, and the fact she kind of saw the boys naked in the pool. Her blush deepened.
Those were carefree times, she reminisced; times they all probably thought would never change. Using her hand to cool the heat of embarrassment off her cheek, the girl inhaled the crisp city air. She wondered if she was breathing in the exact same mist that floated above Kyoto tonight. Kyoto -- where she was to spend the next four years of her life.
Almost blindly, Natsumi walked on further ahead until she reached the overhead pedestrian walkway. As she navigated up the steps, she debated whether she regretted not getting into Tokyo University. After all, she never really expected to pass its highly stringent, next-to-impossible entrance exam. The waitress knew she wasn't as naturally brilliant as someone like Ban, for instance. She had to study very, very hard to get into a good school. In fact, Natsumi considered herself fortunate she was able to make it at all into Kyoto University.
She stared into the thinning traffic on the road below and then up to the now diminishing shadow of Mugenjou, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. On the surface, Kyoto University had been her first choice; believing as did many others, that it had the finest Sciences Department of all the universities in Japan, having graduated the most Nobel Laureates and prize-winning scientists and doctors in the country.
But somewhere deep in her heart, a small part of Natsumi preferred Todai -- less for the automatic prestige and privilege it would lend her name, but more importantly, for the prospect of not having to leave Tokyo. And remaining in Tokyo, near Shinjuku, meant there could be a chance he… they… maybe…
The student shook her head vehemently as though dusting off her mind of a lost cause. It's too late now, Natsumi told herself, taking a timid sip of her drink hoping it would help her swallow the crushing lump that was now growing in her diaphragm. As her large, pewter-gray eyes glazed over, she felt tiny, icy pricks sparingly dot her skin. She held out a palm. A light snow began to fall.
Natsumi suddenly realised how much darker her life was going to be without seeing the sun rising in his eyes ever again.
●●●
Ginji closed the Honky Tonk's door behind him, hesitated on the café's welcome mat and ruffled his hair. The warm fog created by his uneven breaths obscured his vision as he scoured both sides of the empty street trying to spot Natsumi's slender silhouette. Not finding her, Ginji stepped onto the pavement and folded the green pea coat over his arm.
The blond practically strained his untested brain cells as he contemplated how best to say his goodbyes to the waitress. He played a variety of sequence scenarios in his mind. Ginji would give Natsumi her coat, tell her goodbye, and say thanks for everything she'd done for him… the GetBackers. Or he could say goodbye, hand her coat over, and then give his thanks.
Or, he could be daring and put the coat on Natsumi, tell her his 'thank you's', say farewell, and - if he was up to it - give her a quick kiss on the cheek as well.
"Hn…" Ginji wrinkled his nose and expressed a soft groan. Well, he didn't have to make his choice now, did he? Ginji bit his lip and nodded to himself. That decided, the retrieval agent spun on his heels to the right. Instinct told him that Natsumi was probably strolling towards the flashing lights of kabuki-cho(1).
Ginji thrust his free hand into his cargo pants pocket as he walked, his sneakers scuffing the asphalt with every heavy footstep. Actually, he thought, saying farewell would merely be a formality. It was as though Natsumi had already drawn out her long goodbyes all throughout the year, making herself more scarce as the months went by. It seemed like it was only yesterday when they would spend downtime at the Honky Tonk sitting across each other in a booth and challenging her to a game of shogi, or childishly playing footsie with her under the table as Natsumi complained and giggled while trying to finish her homework.
Then the high school student graduated from Seisho Girls Academy and, just like that, Natsumi's bright, cheerful presence became sporadic on the premise that she needed time off for even more study. Ginji didn't understand at first why she needed to be at another school so soon after graduating, but the girl smiled sadly and simply said,
"My future can't wait."
So, spring segued into summer, and summer into fall, where in that time Natsumi disappeared and buried herself in the daily grind of twelve-hour review sessions at the yobiko (2) she attended. In the few days she did clock-in at the café, Natsumi broke away from her books only long enough to serve the coffee; and even then, Ginji and the waitress stopped playing their silly games. They hardly even exchanged words beyond pleasantries.
In fact, if there was someone Natsumi did spend more time with, it was, oddly enough, Ban - who relished the opportunity to brush up on his science and maths by sitting with her, reading her textbooks, and giving her pop quizzes afterwards; all while Ginji sat clueless at the bar, feeling like a basket case and wishing for once, he was as effortlessly smart as his partner. For the blond knew he no longer had a place on that bench, opposite that girl with her mountains of formulas, computations, and scientific tracts he would never understand.
And it was this unspoken drift, the subtle absences that signalled things had changed. Which - it seemed - both would silently accept.
By winter, Natsumi had taken all her exams and returned to the Honky Tonk, making up for lost wages by working full-time. Yet, as she awaited the results of her difficult tests, the waitress remained anxious and distracted; while Ginji couldn't begin to explain the dull, pulsating ache he felt seeing her go through all those trials - trials which she strangely chose to suffer alone.
Then, upon learning she had been accepted into Kyoto University, Natsumi relaxed considerably and began to bounce back into her normal self. She and Ginji even resumed their chess matches, which he curiously kept winning – unlike before.
He once wondered out loud why the sudden shift in his fortunes. To which Natsumi simply answered with a small smile and a pay-up in breakfasts of ham and scrambled eggs.
Ginji could almost convince himself that somehow, things had still remained the same. But he was only kidding himself. He knew Natsumi was slightly different, just as everybody - and everything else - was different.
Shido was now engaged to Madoka and had mellowed down, having lost a lot of his animosity and anger - even towards Ban.
Kazuki returned to the haunted ruins of his ancestral home with Juubei and embarked on a personal pilgrimage that lasted months as he tried to find the root of what went terribly wrong in the once honourable, centuries-old Fuuchouin School. Only then could Kazuki begin to rebuild a new discipline from the ashes of his crumbled legacy.
Paul… Ginji still found it hard to get used to the fact that the droll, mild-mannered, tab-hounding café owner was once one of Mugenjou's most powerful figures.
Himiko had survived the Voodoo Child curse and her seventeenth birthday long enough to reach her eighteenth. Now old enough to legally drive, she was as independent and feisty as ever; taking on even more dangerous, glamorous jobs in and out of the country that caused Ban to go into mild cardiac arrests every time she failed to come home in time. What would Yamato think, the porcupine-head had ranted, if his little sister had outlived the curse only to get hurt - or worse - while smuggling some nuclear scientist out of North Korea?
And then there were the GetBackers. For maybe it was he and Ban who had changed the most; having finally come to terms with their long lost families, their powers, and their pasts. They had solved the puzzle of who and what the third generation of GetBackers were; and now, Ban and Ginji could start completing a new puzzle that would foretell what they could become.
Ginji idly ran his fingers through the downy faux fur trim of Natsumi's coat and slackened his pace. He wondered if the student would be a piece that could still fit into the grid of this new puzzle, or if it was permanently fixed into the vast, finished mural of the old one; hung up only as a vague tapestry in his memory.
Sighing, the blond retriever stopped, grasped the chain-link fence that ran along the street and pressed his cheek against the thin, cold steel. Feeling a snowflake catch on his lashes, Ginji blinked and drew his large brown eyes up, instantly spotting the familiar pendulum sway of Natsumi's ponytail in the multi-coloured halo of kabuki-cho's neon lights. Watching her stand alone on that walkway with her back to him, Ginji acceded to the reality that this young lady wasn't the same carefree, genki friend he was--how should he put it?--so very fond of. Instead, she was now graced with a certain astute seriousness and had a slight tired look in her silvery eyes that tarnished the star-shine in them somewhat.
Not that it made her any less attractive in his view. No. Natsumi had blossomed. She had lost the baby fat on her face, which revealed a delicate bone structure and refined cheekbones. Plus, her curves had ripened and she cut her long, straight hair into trendy layers; sometimes wearing it loose just like she did when he first met her. Ginji always thought the high school girl was cute. But now, to his gaping awe, he found this Natsumi as mature… beautiful… a woman.
Why would a sophisticated college student like her want to continue being friends with an uneducated simpleton like himself, Ginji mused regretfully. He began to doubt the wisdom of coming out here, speculating whether if it was not, in fact, better for the both of them to just silently drift apart and leave with a remembrance of a friendship that meant something; rather than exchanging trivial small talk full of empty promises that eventually meant nothing.
Ginji desperately searched for some sort of sign to tell him what to do, for somehow, his normally keen instincts wasn't helping him any. At last, he sought what he was looking for in the stoplight below the overpass. If Natsumi turned her head toward him by the time the light turned green, he would go to her. If not…
He would walk away.
Then, the retriever saw the lights switch from red to green, and automatically, his eyes practically bored into the back of her head. He stared… he hoped… he willed her for any kind of response. And when her sights remained fixed ahead, Ginji's gaze dropped sadly; observing his feet swivel as his mind commanded them to march back to the Honky Tonk, yet with his heart pleading desperately for them to stay.
But just before his attention had swung too far behind to notice, from the corner of his vision Ginji thought he caught the shift of a ponytail in the bright haze. Peeking over his shoulder, he discovered not the snub of Natsumi's hair, but her lovely face as she waved to him.
Ginji smiled weakly and waved in return from beyond the criss-cross of the fence. "Small talk and casual goodbyes it is," he muttered to himself. He trudged forward and grasped the coat tighter in the crook of his arm. As he approached the stairs, Ginji couldn't help but notice Natsumi seemed distant. Even as she was physically near to him, it was as if her spirit had already left.
●●●
To be continued...
●●●
kabuki-cho – red-light district in Shinjuku with its bright, gaudy lights, hostess bars, and underworld charm.
yobiko - also called a cram school. Yobiko are private schools that help students prepare for college entrance exams. Cost of these year-long preparation classes is very expensive, sometimes equal to what a student pays for first-year university expenses, or higher. These schools also give practice exams throughout the year.