Chapter 6

Stillness

Why was it always her who survived? Her to survive alone? In guilt . . .?

It was warm. Something brushed against her, barely tickling her.

"Mireille!"

Kirika shot up in bed.

It was empty next to her. Not even a spot indicating that someone once laid there; the bed was warm because of her body alone. Kirika looked around. It was so quiet, that it hurt. It was the silence that sang loud, telling Kirika she was alive and that this was real—that Mireille was really gone.

"Kirika?"

Farther down across the room from her bed were sliding doors. They flew open, Tsuki and Rhain peeking in. They rushed over to Kirika, hushing her to lie back down. She didn't seem to register them, or just didn't care, as she sat up her legs and cried into her hands.

"Mireille," she croaked.

"She's in another room," said Rhain softly. "She's fine, trust me. We had to reassure her you were fine, too."

Kirika stared at them, as if afraid they were just protecting her feelings. She wasn't stupid; she remembered all the blood, the sound of two gunshots. She looked at Tsuki and Rhain hard, tears brimming her eyes.

"If you can't trust us now, why trust us back there?" exasperated Rhain. "If it makes you feel any better, just a half an hour ago she said, 'I'll feed you to the Soldats' hellhounds, you blonde American stripper, if you don't tell me where Kirika is now'!"

Tsuki laughed. "That is not what she said. Stop playing victim." She locked eyes with Kirika. "All she said was, 'Who are you? Where's Kirika? I'll shoot you' . . . you know how she is."

That did sound like Mireille. Quick to the point.

Rhain glared at Tsuki. "Either way, it's not something to laugh at lightly."

"But you two are so alike, more than you want to admit!"

Kirika couldn't help but ignore them. She looked around, realizing they weren't in Mireille's apartment. Machines beeped all around her, strung to her. It was a more homely and rugged than most hospitals, providing her with her own bedside table with its remote controller for the TV in the upper corner across from her, and a giant plant in a rounded vase in the corner. A humble drawer with a large, wide mirror stared back at her next to the small bathroom.

Kirika whipped off her covers. Her legs were bandaged, yet barely blotched from blood. Her thigh throbbed, but the bullet removed. Kirika bent her knees, the effort not anywhere as painful as before. It still pinched, but it was bearable. The bullet in her shin was gone, as if there was never a boulder trying to move around in her bones.

"So this is a hospital?" asked Kirika.

"No, it's a children's daycare center," said Rhain sarcastically.

"Sis, sarcasm," growled Tsuki, threatening another slap.

"You're sisters?" asked Kirika, looking at their obvious differences.

"We like to think we are," said Tsuki, smiling warmly. "Nothing better than finding family, right?"

Kirika immediately started crying, not out of despair but relief that Mireille was alive—and yet she cried because she so badly wanted to see Mireille. She wanted the proof.

Tsuki tilted her head sympathetically. "It's alright. Everything's alright for now."

This alarmed Kirika. She narrowed her eyes at the two women. "What does that mean?"

Tsuki gave an impassive expression. "You can never escape the world you grew up in. Sooner or later, they'll come back to find you."

"I know who they are," said Kirika slowly. "But . . . who are you?"

"Not them, that's for sure," chortled Rhain.

"That doesn't answer anything."

Rhain sighed. "If you really want to know, we'll meet you at . . . hm, let's say at Oakhaven Lake. Mireille will know where that is."

The two started toward the door, but Kirika called out to them. "Why won't you answer me? Who are you? How'd you know about us, about V, about Noir?"

"Who doesn't know Noir," said Tsuki, shrugging solemnly. "As for the rest, we'll explain at the lake. We'll see you soon, Kirika. Rest. A doctor will come in soon to check up on you. You're in safe hands—."

The door to the hallway slammed open, nearly hitting Rhain in the nose. Mireille marched in, ripping off all those hospital suction cups. With a gun pointed.

Rhain jumped backwards, cursing. "SHIT, woman!"

Mireille glanced past her at Kirika, then back at them. "Move." She walked past them, turning around to keep her aim on them. She slowly walked backwards toward Kirika.

"Mireille, it's alright," began Kirika.

"Are you alright?" stressed Mireille, even though her eyes never left the other women.

Kirika couldn't help but smile, her heart over churned with joy. "Yes."

"We told you—," began Tsuki, but Mireille fired, her bullets punching holes in the wall behind them.

They both froze.

"Before we walk out here unscratched," growled Mireille, "you're gonna close that door and explain everything—."

"NOPE, bye!" exclaimed Rhain and Tsuki, who fled through the still-opened door. On instinct, Mireille fired after them—but they were gone. She roared, furious.

Rhain quickly peeked back out. "By the way, Barbie, you're paying for those holes!" And disappeared before Mireille could raise her gun again—which, with two arms, hurt.

"Mireille, your arm," cautioned Kirika.

"It's better than before," admitted Mireille, gasping.

Kirika paused. "How did you get a gun?"

"They put guards on me."

Kirika couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Because they knew you'd do what you did. You stole the gun from them, didn't you?"

The French grinned weakly, but continued to grit her teeth in pain.

Kirika gasped. "Mireille, you're bleeding!"

The way Mireille burst into the room made everyone believe she had fully recovered. The blood seeping from the blonde's hospital gown, however, reminded them of V's gunshots. Mireille felt the area between her collarbone and heart. How close she had been to death.

She grunted, sinking to the floor.

"Mireille!" panicked Kirika. "Someone, help!"

Just as Tsuki and Rhain promised, doctors ran into the room. They helped her up, Mireille's arms around their necks.

"If you ever want to leave this place, please don't do anything rash," one of them said. "Tsuki and Rhain worked hard to get you out of harm's way."

"Apparently," growled Mireille, almost in thought. She looked back at Kirika, who sat there, watching after her protectively yet with relief.

"I'm sorry, Mireille," said Kirika, overlooking the long hill winding down to a pond.

"For what?" asked Mireille, leaning on the rail. They were out on the veranda outside of Kirika's hospital room. It turned out it was a section attached to Tsuki and Rhain's house. The simple yellow-ochre building didn't boast royalty, but the fact that it had a hospital section said so much about their background—and yet, it still didn't explain anything. They clearly weren't the enemy, so who were they?

"For blindly going after V to retrieve his cat," answered Kirika. The last time she saw the creature was in the middle of the fight. She can't remember whether or not Mireille got struck in the line of fire.

"I'd be pissed too if something important to me was taken like that," said Mireille, frowning at her. She closed her eyes, looking away. "In fact, I was pissed." Her mouth became a tight, thin line, but her eyes said everything.

Kirika watched Mireille, saying nothing. The silence stretched on, seemed to tighten like taffy, until Mireille spoke again.

"So. You fully healed?"

"The doctors said we could go within the next few days."

Her friend snorted. "Humph, telling us when we can leave. They rescue us wounded strays but throw us into the pound."

Kirika shook her head, frowning. "Maybe them—but Tsuki and Rhain? I don't think so . . ."

She couldn't put her finger on it but she felt safe here. The house's interior almost had a log cabin feel to it. Wooden walls with their gnarly, knotted patterns. A stone fireplace elevated on a stone shelf inside the rugged living room. Two bedrooms decorated with personal, ancient things like Bhuddist necklaces, Asian incense burners that were little tea cots on top of larger tea pots, hand-size Zen gardens, or silky red and gold or white and black Asian-themed bedcovers. And yet, the exterior still maintained its Parisian flair with the vines crawling the walls and the ebony iron French furniture . . assuming they were still in Paris. Rhain had mentioned Mireille knowing about a nearby lake . . . assuming that was nearby. Regardless, there was something about the simple house on its secluded, rolling hills and scattered trees that made Noir wonder how young girls like Tsuki and Rhain made a living.

Both their expressions darkened. Something heavy stirred within them . . .

They both knew. So, why couldn't they admit it together, aloud, this time? It was no different from before, was it?

They enjoyed their remaining two days, in the luxury of not having to clean up their own place or make their own breakfast. That was Mila's job, the housemaid. She came by early every morning, and left around early evening. On weekends, she stayed there in her own separate room. She was a bittersweet older woman, but nonetheless, loyal. Especially whenever Noir tried to investigate certain parts of the house. She'd often poke them outside with a broom to wander the trails leading from the house. She also defended against anything Mireille said about Tsuki and Rhain if she was within earshot of Mireille's mumbling.

Finally, Noir decided to leave for Oakhaven Lake. It wasn't till late into the evening, though. They threw on their new simple tanktops, jean shorts, and sneakers Tsuki and Rhain left in their rooms. But when Kirika saw her friend slip a gun into the back of her jean shorts, covered by a sleeveless brown leather hoodie, she was alarmed:

"Why the guns?" said Kirika.

Mireille hissed in annoyance. "Varrichione's 'buddies' will soon realize his absence in their line of business."

"Enough with the guns. We have Tsuki and Rhain."

"Hmph," snorted Mireille. "They barely made it in time to even save us."

"But they saved us."

"Well, I wouldn't call them pros."

Mila drove them to the edge of a national park, and far into the woods was a lake. It was in a clearing, crowned by thin woodland. Two nearly-perfect oval-shaped islands of golden grass sat across from each other in the water. There was a little bay where land jutted out toward the water, patched with enough trees to make shelter.

And there, under those trees, sitting on rocks, were Tsuki and Rhain.

Mireille and Kirika walked toward their saviors. All the while, Kirika sensed something different in Mireille. It almost felt peaceful and longing, and yet there was something haunted about it. The Corsican looked around them, inhaling the fresh air. Her eyes carved out the details of every plant, bush, tree, or tall grass.

It was still drizzling from the midday shower, silver slices in a rare lighting. They had never seen the sky this pale gold and mystical, as if someone had added a sepia layer over the scenery. Everything seemed to glow.

When they approached the two girls looking into the water, Mireille couldn't help herself. "So. Tell me."

Rhain turned to face them. "Ha. The same thing you told Kirika when you first met." Kirika's eyes widened, Mireille slowly reached for the gun stuffed into her pants behind her. "We know about the guns—after all, we left them there by your beds for you."

"Only a handful know about that fateful day," said Mireille, glaring. "And the only ones who knew about this lake . . . was my Uncle Claude, after our exile from Corsica . . . and the Soldats. You're the Soldats, aren't you?"

Rhain shrugged, blowing her full crown of bangs from her face. "Who else would we be?" She folded her arms, leaning against a skinny tree.

Mireille fought an expression, as if to contain her rage. She lowered her eyes. "We knew . . . and yet, we wish it wasn't that."

"Why?" asked Tsuki, tilting her head.

"You know why," murmured Mireille, looking into all their reflections in the still water. There was a moment when she thought Tsuki and Rhain looked so much like them. "Because the Soldats took everything from me. My home. My family. My childhood. They nearly took Kirika . . ."

"And yet," added Kirika, squinting in confusion and hurt. "Here they are, standing in front of us . . . after everything they've done to us. How could you be the Soldats? Why did it have to be you two? So young, so kind . . ."

"I mean, yeah, we're one of them," murmured Tsuki, "but we only represent the small part of them that we agree with: our belief in nurturing Noir."

"What is Noir to you, then?" hissed Mireille, as if insulted by their presence on sacred grounds. Her gaze seemed to caress the lake she had cherished in the remainders of what little childhood she had.

"That's why we came to find you—to find that answer ourselves," said Rhain. She smiled grimly. "Well, the way we see it . . . is like this. This lake, for example. Have you ever felt so peaceful? Like you understand everything all of a sudden? Even here, looking at our reflections, we understand how cruel the world is. We accept it, for some reason. This is you, Noir. A life of solitude, peace, yet darkness."

"How can those go together?" croaked Kirika, glaring.

Tsuki's brow wrinkled in thought, dipping her bare foot into the water. It was the kind of fresh lake where the water was clear enough to see the defined pebbles in the underwater mud. Underwater vegetation stood tall like skyscrapers. Salamanders basked on the leaves while crayfish paroled the floor, snipping at the lazy tadpoles floating by.

"You go and kill the corrupted things of the world, cleansing everything until it's clear again," said Tsuki, looking through the water. "Well, when getting rid of corrupt things, along the way, we get tainted with that corruption, too. That darkness and hatred leeches to us. We feed it on in return, to remind us again why we draw our swords and walk into the night."

"That makes no damn sense!" said Mireille through gritted teeth.

"We've had our share of blood, too," said Tsuki, exchanging a look with Rhain. "And from each death, we understand the darkness. We accept it, and find peace."

"How do you find peace in that?" asked Kirika, lips quivering. Mireille looked over at her and immediately took a threatening step toward the other two.

"It's called balance," said Rhain, sighing, as if sick of the drama. "Think about it. This sky is going to be no more beautiful than it is now, knowing you could die any time."

"Is that a threat?" hissed Mireille.

"No one lives forever. And if you're Noir, who knows when that could be."

"We plan to live."

Tsuki and Rhain's expressions were blankly inscrutable. This made them strangers, who wore the same observant expressions of scientists watching their experiments thrive. It wasn't as condescending or regal, but Noir was sick of being looked at like that. They wanted to be free.

"So," began Rhain, "what will you do when the underworld calls for its grim reapers to judge mankind, including the sinners deserving of such?"

Mireille closed her eyes, smiling bleakly. "Tell them we're sleeping in."

Tsuki giggled; Mireille glared at her, insulted. "That's it? You won't pick up?" asked Tsuki.

"The Soldats . . ." whispered Kirika. She looked up at the other two. "We never knew enough about them to understand them completely, even after meeting Altena. But we understood it enough: they were once a group that sought to save mankind from itself. They thought that, as long as two of their chosen cut down those who fed on the innocent, their black deeds would be forgiven by God himself . . ."

"'Their black souls protect'," agreed Tsuki, nodding. "That's what Altena wanted, wasn't it? She saw the corruption in our modern world, and tried to lure Noir back down, deep under its roots, to remind them why they walked the earth. Except, Altena's sufferings have clouded her judgment, too, in a way, different from the recent Soldats. So, really, both Altena and the Soldats were wrong. Both parties had tried so hard to control you, stunting your growth through brainwashing and endless, relentless trials, rather than allowing you to grow naturally as saplings."

Mireille snorted. "And what makes you so different?"

Tsuki and Rhain lowered their glance to the ground.

"You assigned us to assassinate Varrichione. A typical, simple job. And it went wrong why?"

"Varrichione thought himself part of the Soldats of the Old, also to become the start of the Soldats of the New," grumbled Rhain, scratching her head. "He surprised us with his cat stunt. He fooled us both."

"You sent us after a dangerous man, one of the Soldats' very own!" shouted Mireille. "He was more powerful than you made him sound to be. I haven't faced so many gunmen since that Poisonous Insect! And if you were so concerned with us, with Noir—if you knew we didn't want to live this way anymore—why did you assign us V in the first place?"

"To see if you would take the contract. To see if you still thought yourselves Noir."

"I was always an assassin before becoming Noir," said Mireille in a flat tone. "I was doing what I've always been doing."

"But you knew Kirika didn't like it," said Rhain.

"I . . ."

"Why did you make her do it?"

"I . . . I don't know." Mireille felt a stab of guilt. Killing has always been part of their nature. She had meant to remind Kirika of that—but now that she looked back on that moment, that pain on Kirika's face, she realized it was more than just a life's lecture. She dragged them back into Noir, and for what?

"Killing's . . . all we're good at, isn't it?" croaked Kirika.

"That's up for you to decide," said Rhain sternly. "If you really were serious about quitting, you would've have picked up different professions right after Le Grande Retour."

Mireille opened her mouth to protest in Kirika's defense, but closed her mouth. They were sort of right. If they badly wanted something, they should have taken it long ago. It wasn't that hard to find any job, really. But thinking about what kind of mundane job they'd pick up was hard itself.

"It's not easy to break a lifetime habit," said Tsuki sympathetically. "We understand. So maybe right now, at this lake, is a good chance to start. Live the life you want. Simple and quiet. It's your choice after today's picnic whether you want to go back to that life."

"Picnic?" asked Kirika.

"Yeah, you didn't notice?" said Rhain cheerfully, pointing at the basket and blanket laid next to a giant rock. "We thought it'd be nice to get to know each other and have a picnic!"

Mireille gaped at the abrupt change of mood. She looked at Kirika to gauge what the Japanese thought, but her friend was already hypnotized by the idea as she sat down on the wool blanket.