Disclaimer: I do not own Negima, Ayaka, Kotaro or a piano.
Despite not being up to date with the manga, this is a oneshot I've had in mind for a while. It's sort of AU-ish, because Ayaka and Kotaro are both older then they usually are. Some angst, nothing too serious.
Enjoy!
Spring sunlight filtered in through the room, creating beams of whitish light in the large, glass-ceiling roof. A melody played on a dusty piano, fitting in very well with the serenity of the room. The boy, who held himself with a strange, savage grace, watched the woman inside the gazebo, eyes clouded. If she is aware of his presence, she does not acknowledge it.
Kotaro-
You hit the piano keys with those ivory-white fingers, trying to concentrate on playing the song just right. Because that's the way things have to be with you, Ayaka; everything has to be perfect.
All I want to do is let you know that it's okay to mess up, sometimes. Nobody expects you to be a marble statue, except it's just not that simple. I know that you're trying not to look at me. Like maybe if you keep playing, eventually I'll take the hint and slink back out that door?But you know I'm not like that.
It's okay; I know why you're playing. It's because you're not supposed to know things like that about me. You and I, we're in different worlds. Or at least, we're in worlds that are trying not to touch. I thought you were spoilt when I first met you. Still do, as a matter of fact, but it's different now. You're not like most rich people, if you had a choice, you'd stay with us. It's like you're all locked up in a pretty cage. Nice to look at, sure, but you know that you're in one all the same. I'm not stupid enough to think that I'm the one that can free you. But I don't want you to hide. It's okay, Ayaka.
This song is familiar. Are you playing it on purpose to tell me something? I don't know. Even though I'm older now, I still don't really get subtleties. Especially not when it comes to girls. But it's like I have to grab things I can't see to communicate with you.
He is standing next to the open doorway, not quite inside. The melody continues to play, the tone slipping into a minor key, becoming softer. The blonde woman- she is definitely no longer a girl- still does not look at the young man.
Ayaka~
Sometimes I hate the fact I ever let you in, Kotaro.
You're so much like a wild dog that there's no poetry about it at all; You never think before you speak, you are totally unrefined and you'll never be tamed.
You're the exact opposite of me, and sometimes I hate you for that.
It's not really fair. You came here, knowing it's because I can't face anyone, and you stand there pitying me. Perhaps I seem like a fool, perhaps I am one. But telling me it's for my own good, that I'll be safer here, it just kills me. You haven't said the words, Kotaro, but I know you're thinking it. I don't want to be safe. What I want is to make sure I'm not placed somewhere else, out of reach. Like some kind of glass doll.
I know that I'm weak, that all I can really do is use my money to help Negi-sensei. I don't resent that, not at all, but I wish you'd all stop pretending it's for my benefit, like you're all doing me a favour. It hurts to think of all of you, out there, doing whatever ridiculous, dangerous things you're doing, getting hurt, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. All I do is sit here, pretending everything's fine, when really inside I am breaking.
I don't want to admit it, but it's true. I hate that you leave me behind.She can hear his footsteps over the piano. The boy stays a respectful distance away, but this seems to make her angrier. Although her posture is perfect- shoulder's straight, head only slightly bowed, there is a tension in her back and a glimmer in her eyes. Her face is impassive, otherwise.
Kotaro-
You know, if I had any choice, I wouldn't let you go. You know that, don't you?
It's not your fault you're not a fighter. I think that you could be a great one, if Negi would give you a chance. Maybe he's just too scared to let you perform a pactio with him? I don't know his reasons. Maybe Asuna-san or Konoka-san made him promise not to bring you with him? They aren't doing it because they hate you, Ayaka. They don't want you to get killed. The truth is, I know what it's like to feel weak. To feel like
But I know that telling you that doesn't make it any easier, hearing that.
For what it's worth...
I miss you when you're not around, Ayaka.
He is obviously uncomfortable in these surroundings. Everything in the room is clean and pretty and polished. He is exactly the opposite.
Ayaka~
Please don't make this harder then it already is, Kotaro.
You're standing close to me now, but I don't want to look at you. If I do, I'll break down, and I'm tired of getting hurt. Even if I cry, even if you comfort me, I know that you'll still leave eventually.
I don't want to get hurt by your world anymore. Not by Negi-sensei, not by his 'partners', not by you.
Why is it so hard for you to accept that I'm not trying to be part of it anymore?
Yes, I know the rumours. That my parents are looking into an arranged marriage for me. What of it? I can't carry on living my life half-heartedly, my head and my heart still with you, with all of you, wherever you are.
I'm not a high school student anymore. I have to think about my future. I have to let all of you go.
Why won't you let me, Kotaro?
She inhales, slowly, as the fabric of his slightly damp jacket accidentally brushes against her arm. It had rained earlier on- the plants outside are shining with the clear residue, the rain making everything smell fresh and earthy. She wishes that she didn't associate that scent with him.
"Maybe," Kotaro says, quietly, and Ayaka notices how his voice has broken, "I didn't know what I had until I had to leave it behind."
"Don't," Ayaka says, fingers pressing hard on the keys of the piano, her words laced with anger. "Don't come in here, after showing up from doing god knows what, god knows where, thinking you're allowed to feel sorry for me, that you're allowed to undo everything I've done since then-"
"Ayaka," Kotaro begins, but she is not finished.
"-Did you think that I'd just drop everything now you've all come back? What were you expecting, that I'd just wait for you forever? I have a life of my own- yeah, it might not be as exciting or dangerous or as important as yours, but you can't just come waltzing back into my life and ruining everything, I can't- I won't let you!"
"Is this what you're calling a life?" Kotaro asks her, still hardly raising his voice, "Are you happy, playing at being some kind of socialite? Learning when to fake a smile, looking pretty, getting married to some rich guy you don't care about?"
"No."
Ayaka refuses to cry, but there's a lump in her throat. Her fingers have frozen.
"No, I'm not happy," she half-whispers, "But I wasn't any happier, wondering and waiting. It might not be perfect, or even close to perfect, but it's better then being on the outside, looking in."
"It doesn't have to be an either/or situation," Kotaro tells Ayaka, and she wonders when he became so damn mature.
"Yes, it does," she says, finally turning away from the piano, finally looking at him, "For me, it does."
Kotaro says nothing. Ayaka stands up, wondering if she, of all people has defeated him. For a second, they do nothing but look at each other. It's hard to tell what their expressions mean, whether it's a battle of wills or them trying to figure each other out or any of the possibilities.
Then suddenly, with no warning and with barely a flicker, Ayaka pulls Kotaro to her, because for once, for once, he's there when she needs him to be. And she's not ready for him to leave. Not yet.
Kotaro stands there, a little stunned, but he wraps his arms around Ayaka and buries his head into her shoulder. She stands there with her face in his chest, wishing that she could do more, wishing that she had any say at all in the situation they're both in. Then Kotaro whispers something to her, and finally, the tears do come.
"Then next time," he tells her, with no room for uncertainty, "When I'm strong enough, I will take you with me."
And the few tears, which fall freely to the marble floor, are not ones of sadness or frustration.
She is relieved.
Argh, this story was a pain to upload. It was fine on Wordpad, then suddenly when I uploaded it, the concept of italics and rulers were too much to handle.
Anyway, reviews would be wonderful.
