Improper Guardian
Chapter Ten
By: Brenli
A 6:00 alarm rang right on schedule, but Nema was already awake. Her red eyes stared moodily at the blaring clock, until she smacked it with her rosary-wrapped hand and silenced it.
Nema hadn't slept much that night. She was too enraged and embarrassed to do so, but when she'd slipped into some kind of slumber, she immediately envisioned Michael's eyes gone blue. Nema kicked off her boots and slipped into a pair of black pants, accented with red, inverted crosses, and then stomped back into her boots. Even as she closed her eyes and pulled her black tank top over her head, she saw those blue eyes. She grumbled and slipped on a white shirt, hating those eyes. Well, she hated the man who owned those eyes.
She opened her bedroom door, and there he was. All slouched against the wall, sleeping. Damn it, how could he sleep so well after what he did? Did he care at all?
Well, that was a dumb question. Nema buried away the answer deep inside her and sneered down at him. She was angrier at herself than at him, suddenly. He treated her like shit, and she found it in herself to be ATTRACTED to him. What was she thinking? Her stupidity was enough to make her cry. Nema didn't understand… just about anything, anymore…
Nema hissed crossly at herself and delivered a sharp kick to Michael's side, watching him snap into alertness and pain, listening to him curse.
"What the Hell, Nema?" Michael immediately grabbed Nema's ankle before she could leave. "I don't need your damn wake up calls if that's what that was!"
Soon they were struggling again. Now they couldn't even last one minute without fighting each other… this was ridiculous. "Get… off of me…" Nema hissed through gritted teeth, pushing him off to the side and proceeding to the kitchen.
Michael wasn't having any of that attitude, for several reasons. For one, he most obviously didn't enjoy getting assaulted in the morning, and for two, Nema didn't even try to fight against his retaliation. That wasn't how it was supposed to work…! She was supposed to fight back! "Well, good fucking morning to you, too, Nema!"
She offered him a blatantly fake smile and snatched an apple from a bowl placed on the island of her kitchen, quickly biting into it.
"… So what the fuck is your problem today, huh?" Michael snarled after a stretch of silence.
"How could you act like you have no idea…?" Nema said coldly, before taking another large bite of the apple.
Michael knew quite well that she was still fuming because of last night's forced kiss, and admittedly… after thinking it over for about an hour, he was willing to admit to himself that his actions MIGHT have been over the top. Not that he was willing to admit this to anyone else. "Feh! Are you still pouting 'cause of a little kiss?" He watched Nema's shoulders stiffen. "You're only proving me even more right, the more you sit there like that…! Makin' a big deal out of it 'cause you thought that I might actually WANT you…"
Nema knew Michael was heartless, but he really took it too far, then. She spun and flung the apple at him, watching it ricochet off the top of his red head. She followed the apple's path to him, and before either of them knew it, they were fighting each other in the cluttered kitchen. They were surrounded by breakable objects, but they managed to shove themselves and kick themselves around without harming anything.
"Starting the training extra early today, are ya?" Michael said with the fake tones of glee in his voice. Really, they were fake. There was no competitive gleam in his opponent's eyes, but the dull emptiness of hatred, and he'd seen this look several times before. Nema honestly wanted to hurt him…! A small part of him believed he should have expected this, but that didn't mean he was going to treat this like a real battle. After all… he didn't REALLY want to hurt her…
But then what did he DO last night?
The sudden revelation made the Fire Angel falter, and Nema, being as bloodthirsty as she was right now, took advantage of it, throwing more weight into her arms as she slapped and shoved him back. "… D-dammit!" Michael swore. This wasn't normal at all…! HE was the one who always won… ESPECIALLY against Nema! ALWAYS him! And now just ONE thought was making him weaker!
His theory was so true… women always made men weaker… It wasn't like Nema had any RIGHT to do this to him…! He wouldn't let her…! That was… that was WHY he did what he did last night! He had to put her back in line… for BOTH their sakes! He hated doing this, but he desperately flung himself forward and struck her twice as hard as he wanted to, watching her fly back across the kitchen, knocking over the bowl on the island.
Nema barely caught herself before she went flying onto the stove, and she felt the waves of pure rage fill her… she felt the wings she owned sprout themselves from her back, but she wasn't able to see that overnight, they'd grown twice as large… and neither was Nema able to see that her eyes had begun to glow in crimson hatred.
There were only two words that could form in Michael's mind.
Oh. Shit.
Nema let out an angry cry and flew at him, grabbing a chair and bringing it down on him. The Archangel's head was safe from any impact, but he'd been caught in the space between the backrest and the seat, and Nema flipped the chair about to bring him down. Nema was practically inhuman as she pinned her trainer down and broke the chair apart, as it had served its purpose and was no longer needed.
"You cheated!" The Fire Angel said, though he knew the protest was pathetic. And Nema replied with what he already knew…
"We aren't training…" Her voice was so low it sounded raspy and inhuman. Michael watched her face contort into one holding back tears, and Michael wanted her to cry. He wanted her to act more like herself. He was beginning to miss her. "I don't wanna be angry… You're not supposed to let me be angry…" Michael could feel himself almost nod, and he still wanted her to cry. But Nema disappointed him, quickly losing her drops of humanity, returning to the low, raspy whisper that… believe it or not… made Michael a little bit scared. "… I'm not stupid. I know what I am, and what the means for me. I know… I know that I am too ugly, and that I am not worth your time. I know that you will never want me… You didn't need to sexually harass me to make me realize that. Because I know… I've always known. Those thoughts of mine… regarding you… I know they won't come true. You didn't have to do that… You didn't have to…" Nema was shaking her head and her fingers were unintentionally digging into the flesh of his chest. "Today… today, I am going to do what I want, because I am angry, and I do NOT want to deal with you…"
'I don't wanna be angry…'
"… And you are going to leave me alone… because even though I've always been angry with… everything… I am mostly angry with you."
'You're not supposed to let me be angry…'
"Nema…"
"Shut up." She said coldly. Michael realized that she was keeping herself in check… She didn't want to get carried away now that she had powers she couldn't control… Nema didn't want to do something she might come to regret. "… I don't care what you do… I don't care if you leave."
"Now you're lying."
"I think I told you to shut up, didn't I?" Nema hissed quietly. "I don't care what you do… just don't do anything… around me." She delivered one more blow: she scratched her fingers into his chest, pleased with the wince that crossed his facial features. And with that she left, picking up another apple which had fallen to the ground, and biting into it.
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"My goodness…! That dear Rabbit is getting stronger by the second…!" Cheriour commented. "… She's even got a great Angel like MICHAEL stunned…! Is he going to move…? Oh, there, he sat up… Would you look at the look on his face? Do you think he is mortified that he lost to an I-Child?"
"Don't you think this spying is getting a little childish if all you're doing is giggling about their squabbles…?" Another Angel approached Cheriour, staring up into one of several screens, for Cheriour had set up a system around Nema's house in order to keep watch over her.
"Well if it isn't Raphael-sama…!" Cheriour's smile lacked emotion. "What are you doing here? … Are you changing your opinion on the Rabbit Hunting?"
"You wish that I would, don't you?" The Wind Angel said boredly. "I'm here to see if there is any way that you would consider changing Michael's listed opinion."
"Not a chance."
"Oh, come on!" Raphael suddenly dropped the bored demeanor and became abnormally moody. "I'm willing to bet you just manipulated him into saying that, anyway…!"
"No, actually… the way I recall it, I did calmly ask him, and he, in his usual manner, replied quite passionately in favor of their removal."
"But if he honestly feels that way, why doesn't he just give up Nema? You KNOW where he really stands."
"And YOU know that once an opinion is put into ink it does not change! Michael-sama was careless enough to say those words, and now he must deal with it! If he would like to become a traitor and lose his head, that's his own affair!" Cheriour said all these words darkly and quickly. It was a rare glimpse into the inner rage of his heart, and Raphael had to pause before saying anything else.
"But traitors of I-Children are welcomed into your game with open arms?"
"But of course. It is not my fault that there are no angry I-Children about who would like to behead them all, and if there were, well then, they may have a go at it." Cheriour's voice had returned to its smooth, cold nature.
"… You are truly heartless, Cheriour."
"And I often think that many Angels have too much heart." The cruel Angel smiled chillingly. "Will you be going down there, soon? Michael-sama seems to need another talking to, now, doesn't he? Still such a child…!" Cheriour laughed silently at his own little joke, but Raphael found nothing funny about it.
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Cheriour's predictions were correct. Raphael approached Nema's house and walked right in. The door was never locked anymore, in spite of the fact that this implied that they were careless about protection. But then, all the windows were gone, too, so it really didn't matter either way, anymore.
The ever so great Archangel Michael was still seated on the ground of the messy kitchen with that classically blank, 'um… okay?' face of his on.
Raphael sometimes wished that the Angels had the right to behave more human… He failed to understand why God persisted in forming such strange laws when more than half the time, they were broken, leaving the Angels who committed the sin to feel immense amounts of shame. To him, it really wasn't fair. All Raphael wanted, personally, as to be able to kiss Barbiel in public. Just a kiss or two! Was that so much to ask? Was God so paranoid that He couldn't trust His own children to continue loving Him, in spite of loving another?
As the Wind Angel watched the Fire Angel blink up at him, he wanted more than ever to delete God's silly rules against relationships. Because by now, Raphael had decided that maybe Michael really SHOULD get together with Nema, even if he was so violent. Maybe it would have done Michael a world of good to actually care for someone. But here they were… Michael pushing her further and further away… and from the looks of things, Nema had finally decided to go ahead and stay back.
Who knows? Maybe if it wasn't such a sin, Michael wouldn't be quite so apt to rejecting her. Maybe.
"… Hi." The Fire Angel said shortly.
And Raphael promptly whapped him on the top of the head. "You sexually HARASSED her? What did you do? Cop a feel?"
"Hey! Fuck off!" Michael swiftly hopped to his feet. "It was just a kiss…! I had to show her that women take those weird affectionate things too seriously, so I did!"
"Or you just really wanted to push her away."
"… Yeah, that too!" Michael said heartily, nodding. "… What? She's gettin' all… mushy! YOU said it yourself! I'm just putting her back in line."
Raphael gave Michael that infamous, bored, secret-concealing look of his. "… You make a terrible Guardian Angel. All you're doing is hurting her to save your own bits of pride! You can't be selfless for one second, can you?"
"ARE YOU PICKIN' A FIGHT, RAPHAEL? STOP ACTING LIKE MY OLDER BROTHER, 'CAUSE YOU'RE NOT!"
"But your real older brother isn't here right now, is he?"
That made Michael falter. Out of all the people he expected to know about his brother, he least expected Raphael to be foolhardy enough to bring him up. Raphael seemed to realize that, too, as he ran a hand through his blonde hair.
"Ah… dammit." The Wind Angel rolled his eyes. "So where is she?"
Michael opened his mouth, but no words left him as he shrugged and pointed into the general direction of her bedroom.
"… You know what a REAL Guardian Angel would do right now?"
"No…"
Raphael shook his head and left. "Stop lying to yourself."
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Nema could hear what sounded like Raphael's voice mixed with Michael's. He was scolding Michael again, she could feel it. Idly she wondered if they were related somehow. They fought like cousins or brothers would…
Then Nema heard the loud stomping of boots approaching her door. "Oh boy…" She mumbled, looking over her shoulder at the door as it flung open.
Michael was gripping on the doorknob and piercing her with his blue-green eyes. "… You been crying?"
Her eyes narrowed and she turned to face him. "Make-up. Girlishness." She said the words coldly and quickly, and returned to the sewing she was doing.
"… Oh." He responded in the same manner. Her eyes were ringed thinly in black and then touched up with red eyeliner, and she had also painted her lips red, to go with it. She looked much like those weird geisha girls Michael had seen now and then, but she somehow managed to make it look natural, not overdone. That was hard feat for anyone, but Nema had that kind of otherworldly beauty to her. It let her pull off impossible things.
'I know that I am too ugly…'
So at first glace, Michael thought that it looked like the redness about her eyes were the result of tearing up. It didn't mean that she looked UGLY, or anything like that. So why he could hear her say that was rather beyond him.
Besides, Michael never said that she looked ugly to begin with. If he ever had, she was taking him too seriously. "You know I just kid around, right?"
Nema's ruby eyes gave him a skeptical gaze. "And you don't know when to stop. You don't even know when to leave me alone."
The Fire Angel scoffed and plopped down at the foot of her bed. "Feh… you don't wanna be left alone. You're just afraid I'm gonna hurt your feelings again."
Nema decided not to respond and continued sewing what looked like a red skirt. She was taking it up at points to create that scalloped effect she liked so much… Wait a minute. Nema MADE all her clothes? "… You know, I thought they had stores you could buy all those kinds of things at."
"… So?" Nema said shortly.
"… I don't know. Just sayin'."
Nema eyed him suspiciously as he lay back casually on her bed, claiming it as his own. Michael was having trouble looking her in the eye. Was he scared, was he sorry? She wanted to believe he was. She wanted to believe that somewhere inside that tough shell of a man there as a real, compassionate being. "… I like sewing. It helps me pass the time."
"Used to have a lot of time on your hands, huh?"
"Yeah… I don't know. I guess it's okay."
"Sure don't sound like it, you know."
"Since when did Michael-sama care?" Nema suddenly blurted out cattishly.
"Who says I care? I'm just sayin' stuff!"
"I don't need you to say stuff to me! Every time you do all you do is make me feel worthless! I don't need that kind of confirmation!"
Nema braced herself for a scream and maybe a slap, and Michael was suddenly inches away from her face, his eyes almost a pure green as they pierced into her. "I'M NOT TRYIN' TO MAKE YOU FEEL FUCKING WORTHLESS, YOU KNOW!"
"Yeah?" Nema glared back boldly. "Well that is ALL you have ever done."
By now, Michael was getting plain SICK of all the blame getting tossed on his shoulders. It felt like just about EVERYTHING was his fault, now. He didn't protect Nema, he doesn't make her feel happy… even now, when he's NOT picking a physical fight, he only managed to make her angry! What was wrong with him?
Since when did he care whether or not he made anyone feel happy, though? When had that begun to matter?
What happened to being a careless, wild War Angel? When did that become so wrong?
Hadn't it always been wrong?
But WHEN did Michael start to CARE about that?
"Are you mad at me, again? Do you need to hit me for it?" Nema set aside her skirt and continued to glare at him openly, bravely. "Go for it, then go away."
That did it. Michael began screaming. "WHAT THE FUCK? YOU THINK ALL I'M CAPABLE OF IS HITTING THINGS? I COULD BE CAPABLE OF MORE! YOU JUST CAN'T SEE IT! YOU JUST DON'T WANT TO BE PATIENT WITH ME! FUCKING BITCH!" Michael swore, spun away and left her. Maybe all he was capable of WAS hitting things. Maybe the idea of being capable of more… whatever "more" was… was a simple pipe dream, optimism he decided to rely on in the secret parts of his mind… the parts more human… the parts that cared…
Maybe he wasn't able to be human. Maybe all he was able to do… was hit something.
The Fire Angel stormed out of Nema's room, out of Nema's house, and into her back yard. He rarely went here. He guessed that no one else did, either, because the grass was a bit overgrown, and leaves littered the ground in spite of the fact that it wasn't the right weather for leaves to fall.
Wind picked some leaves up and blew them past the angry Angel's adolescent frame. Wind. Raphael.
What the Hell had happened to him, these days? Always dropping for the sole purpose of reprimanding him for this action and that one. Never patient with him. Never giving him any opportunities to prove that he had the potential to make sane, logical, maybe even compassionate actions. Not anymore. What happened to him?
Michael released his rage in an angry cry as he rushed forth and began slamming his fists into the rough, scratchy bark of the closest tree. He heard the wood shake and crack and felt showers of leaves crash upon his fiery head as he let loose scream after scream. This was all he able to do. Hit something, whether it be a person or a tree. Hit it and hit it hard, and over and over again. That's all he could do. All anyone had let him do. And they hated it and condemned him for it.
But this is what they wanted. This was all he knew. And even if he wanted to change, no one would be patient for him.
"FUCKING HATE YOU!" He screamed at no one, and delivered a final blow on the tree. Finally he opened his eyes. The tree had lost its bark on one side and had cracked so deeply that it required one more push before it would fall. Blood smears were found on the smooth white wood and all over his knuckles… somehow, it took actually looking at his fists to feel the pain that came with it.
He heard the tree fall over with a crash and looked up to see that Nema had pushed it over. She had taken of her pants and was wearing her finished, red skirt, looking more like the Nema he was used to. The Nema he liked more.
Nema was silent as she watched him glare at her with vivid, green eyes and bloody fists. Dirt and slivers of bark infested his self-inflicted wounds, so, without saying a word, she took hold of his elbow and brought him back inside.
Michael was also silent, save for a winces and restrained groans that escaped his throat as Nema used a clean needle to remove slivers and a hot washcloth to wash off the dirt from his hands. As Nema turned away to gather white bandages, he flexed his throbbing, painful fingers, watching the fresh blood appear as he moved. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a particular picture on Nema's vanity. It was from many years ago… Nema looked to be about 5 or so, and she was perched up high in a tree… the tree Michael had successfully finished off. Beside her was a boy who looked to be about the same age.
"… So who's that?" Michael's voice came out croaky and tired as he spoke to Nema who returned and flipped the picture down and out of his sight.
"Jinho. He was a classmate. Nobody talked to him because he was Korean and couldn't speak much Japanese, so he settled for me."
"You think he didn't really wanna talk to you?"
Nema shrugged silently. "… He carved his initials into the tree before he moved back to Seoul. I haven't heard from him, since."
Michael and Nema both fell silent as she finished wrapping up his hands. Nema didn't really need to say anything else, anyway. "… Sorry about the tree." The Fire Angel said gruffly, not able to meet her gaze as he felt it pierce into him with the feelings of shock and surprise.
Nema didn't have to wonder if he was sorry for anything else. It was written all over his face. "… I can be patient for you if you try harder." Michael looked at her with a scornful look on his face. Nema went ahead and cried. They were silent tears. Honestly, they were the tears she wanted to cry this morning, but she had kept them locked up until now. They mixed with her makeup and flowed down her face dyed a dark red, looking like blood. "… And only if you're patient with me… I can't live up to your expectations… so… I forgive you for being cruel… But only if you forgive me for being weak."
"You're not weak." The Archangel met her questioning glance with as calm a face as possible. "What? I said you're not. So there. You're not."
Her red eyes crinkled and she laughed behind her hand. "Yessir, Michael-sama, what you say goes."
"Damn straight!" Micheal grinned confidently. There… now things were… closer to how they used to be. And even if that meant that Nema was thinking of mushy thoughts involving him… well, fine, then. It wasn't like anything was going to happen, anyway. She acknowledged that, as did he… so it was okay… "… I look like I'm getting ready to box…" He took one tender fist and lightly tapped her cheek with it, the dyed tears transferred onto his bandages and off of her pale face.
"Go box with another tree… I'm in no mood for training."
"… Yeah. Okay."
Nema was half-expecting Michael to whine and continue tapping her face about, but that was all he offered. A passive agreement. She looked up at him and he was nodding, as though he was trying to convince himself that he had responded in the right way, the better way. "Okay." He repeated.
"… Arigatou."
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"… Oh, how boring, Cheriour-sama! All's well again!"
"Shh… actually… this is very interesting."
"But no one is angry or fighting! The rest of this day will be quite dull."
"How low of you to find pleasure in simple fights. We graduate to a higher form of entertainment… the romance."
"Romance? Hah! Michael-sama is not so stupid. You said so yourself."
"Yes, and yet, he is acting plenty stupid right now. Truly amazing that it takes a Rabbit to bring out the human side of the great War Angel… Truly disgusting, as well."
"Won't be long till he isn't much of a War Angel, anymore… and then we will assign a NEW War Angel. Cheriour-sama!"
"You flatter me, but thank you. That would be a delicious position, indeed. And when that happens, I will be the one to cut off the nasty black wings of Nemaelle… and the grand white wings of the former War Angel, Michael-sama!"