This fic is unlike anything I’ve ever written before. It is not meant to be glanced at, skimmed, and then forgotten. This story was meant to be read slowly, details studied, and symbolism analyzed. It is a mystery, in that you, the reader, are to unlock exactly what is going on. So, in short – this fic was written to make you think. All the answers are in the fic, but they aren’t concrete. They aren’t something that you can see so easily as to know beyond a shadow of a doubt. In the end, there may not even be an ultimate conclusion to what this story is – although I have my own idea. However, what I want is the reader to draw their own conclusions. I want you to read this, and put it together the way you think it happened. This is a truly experimental story for me. This isn’t how I plan to tell all my stories from now on. This is a conglomeration of ideas I had, brought into one story. It will be very, very bizarre, almost to the point of incoherency. However, this was intentional. You are the reader, and you are the one who will draw your own ideas, and find your own answers. There will be pieces of the puzzle all over the place – it’s up to you to decide exactly what and where they are, and ultimately: what the puzzle is.
Obviously, this story is not for everyone. It will be breaking the rules, in that a story must be understood to be enjoyed. Or that it must read chronologically and easily to be understood. Therefore, many will not like this story. This story must be read slowly, taking in everything as if the most miniscule thing is incredibly important… because they are. Also, this story has some rather intense sexuality, and a little controversial violence. Not only is this story not for everyone, but it is definitely not for younger readers. Please proceed with that in mind. I’d like to thank Beautiful Mirage, Incantrix, Rowsdower, Ministry Agent, Beagle-san, LittlePriest, JC and Zelgabunny for helping me on this dark, gritty, and incredibly odd plunge into my mind. I would also like to thank David Lynch, whose films (Lost Highway in particular) were the chief inspiration for this story. HUGE thanks to Ministry Agent for tinkering with this to make it look better – aesthetics are important, after all. ^_^
Lastly, despite what it may appear to be, this fic takes place in the
OAV universe. I can’t give an exact moment when it begins, however,
as that would defeat the purpose of the story. And now, dear readers,
the rest is up to you. From here on out, you will discover your own
answers and conclusions. I hope you enjoy finding them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Opening Theme: I’m Deranged (Edit); David Bowie
“I like to remember things my own way… the way I remember them. Not necessarily the way they happened.” - Bill Pullman; Lost Highway
~*~ First Breath: “Devour” ~*~
Kiyone was afraid of the dark. She didn’t know why, but she just was. She didn’t even really feel that she needed a justification for it – it was an age old fear, and she knew that she wasn’t the only one who possessed it. Darkness concealed many things within a shroud, replacing certainty with apprehension and knowledge with doubt. Her boots clicked lightly against the steel walkway she ran across as she continued to make her way further into the darkness, piercing through shadows like a spear of flesh. The light that so delicately touched the steel surface was receding as if it were afraid of her, just as she was afraid of its absence.
The various tools – her blaster, her cuffs, her clip-snag, as well as a small pouch – tinkered against her belt as she ran. A voice inside of her was screaming, frantic with the desire to draw the blaster and kill whatever it was that was making her run in such a panic, but she couldn’t listen. The hypnotizing fear drove her further into darkness, her sense of reason eclipsed by specters of uncertain admonition.
Dry clacks resounded from behind her, a dim resonance that reminded her of her pursuers. She had forgotten why she was running for a moment as the darkness suffocated her, but the sound of footsteps forced reason back into her flight. She didn’t even know who was pursuing her or why she was running. It was almost as if she had just been born, her senses dilapidated and her direction pulled across leagues of water, and she knew nothing of who she was or what she was doing. It was so utterly terrifying.
Not stopping to ponder her situation, Kiyone continued to run as fast as she possibly could through the darkness, away from the footsteps that grew closer with each moment that passed. Her entire body began to ache with overexertion. Her breath felt like shattered glass across her throat, while her insides felt like fire. There was a tremendous roaring in her ears, the ability of sensation quickly joining the light that fled from her.
“No!” Kiyone cried out, reaching for something, anything. “I… can’t… let it leave me…! NO!”
The world had just begun.
Kiyone stumbled for a moment, her resolve nearing falling with her. She managed to maintain her balance at the last moment, however, and pressed on with a renewed sense of urgency. The light seemed to be growing closer to her, and her vision was becoming blurry. Soft, inviting light began to spill over her, and she felt warm. Like pure water running down her skin, over all of her senses, pulling back the veil of darkness and letting her finally awaken, for the very first time.
“Almost… almost there…” she strained through gritted teeth, as she broke into an outright sprint.
A brilliant flash of blue energy wisped across the steel path, but only for a quick moment. The light was upon her, and she would not be beaten. She couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore, nor the roaring in her ears. Everything had suddenly become pleasantly blurry, nothing becoming everything. Just as she was upon the light at long last, her flight of sheer terror finally eclipsed, another blue flash ran across the floor. Her skin shuddered as poignant slivers of blue ecstasy flickered on her skin for the briefest of moments.
Kiyone didn’t care. “The light… the light is here… I’m finally free of this place… this wretched prison… it’s… it’s so warm… I…”
Strange yellow eyes, flickering against the power that held together what she knew as her own self.
Then the light was gone.
A door slammed somewhere in her mind, and then there was nothing.
“You must have faith in your own power.”
“The transformation of objects… the wings of the Light Hawk!”
Oppressive shadows were all that remained. The darkness was everywhere, slinking and pulsing with nothing to restrain it. Shadows enveloped her as if she was their own, black becoming penetrating and sentient. The answers were right in front of her, her birth, her recognition of what she was and what she had, but she had nothing in her hands. She couldn’t see them. Her soft, delicate hands accentuated by smooth skin of silk were hidden from her, even though she held them in front of her face. There was no sound, as black had eaten even that away. It was all empty space, penetrating yet infinite.
An elaborate, boundless prison. Kiyone couldn’t breathe.
“No… no… NO! Get me out of here! Get me out get me out get me out get me out I hate this I hate this shit shit shit shit shit shit—“
The staccato of lingering terror was impaled and muted by the sound of a door slamming once again. Directly in front of her, where the light had once been, stood a girl. Kiyone could barely register that this was indeed a small child in front of her, because the darkness still pressed itself in over her senses. Even still, it had ebbed partially upon her appearance, making it possible to see a vague representation of a young child. Her eyes were cloaked from view, as were most of her features, but her voice penetrated into Kiyone’s thoughts with absolute ease.
“It’s okay…” she murmured, sympathetically. “It’s okay…”
“So! You’re giving up, eh?”
The absence of her touch seared pain across Kiyone’s skin. She needed comfort; she needed to be released from this nightmare, from this prison, because everything was not okay. Everything was terror. Kiyone tried to reach out to the small girl as if to justify her existence, to prove to herself that she was in fact real. She wanted anything but to fade away and become part of the darkness that she so feared. She needed the touch of another person to show her that she wasn’t nothing.
The small girl’s face, or what could be made out at least, stood perfectly still. “I’m still here, Kiyone…”
Kiyone paused, unaware that she was crying.
“I’m still here with you. I’ll be with you, until the end. I promise. I promise.”
A sharp click resonated behind her ears, and then she felt the cool metal from the end of a blaster pressed firmly against the back of her head. She had forgotten completely about her pursuers, although she didn’t hear them approach her once the lights had gone out. She couldn’t even detect movement behind her as she stood alone with this strange girl in the darkness. Nonetheless, the feel of an unchecked blaster against her head only brought the darkness crashing down upon her all over again.
Kiyone swallowed, trying to stop herself from crying, futilely.
The small girl spoke again. “The end. I promise.”
“End of the line, Kiyone,” a male voice spoke from behind her ears.
Kiyone’s eyes opened slowly. “…Ryoma…?”
The gun went off.
Nothing.
__________
It wasn’t a very nice day. Bleak, ashen clouds populated the sky above, blocking out any means of sunlight. A muted excuse of the sun’s incandescence sifted in to the small room through a bland, square window positioned on the far wall. Whenever the weather got like this in the spring, it usually meant a very cool day outside, to be followed with a chilling drizzle. It was a great day to stay indoors and get further acquainted with one another. It was also a great day to sleep in.
Aeka frowned slightly as she nudged Sasami gently. “Sasami, wake up.”
The younger Princess of Jurai mumbled incomprehensibly in her slumber, unwilling to be disturbed. Her cerulean hair fell to the side slightly as she shifted positions, facing away from her sister. She obviously was still very asleep, or had no intentions of awakening.
Aeka sighed while resting on her knees. Her fingers wrapped calmly around her sister’s shoulder, and shook her again, this time with a bit more force. “Sasami, it’s time to get up. It’s time for breakfast.”
Deep eyes of coral blinked open slowly, the land of dreams now gone. “Uhhnn… huh? Huh? What…?”
Smiling to herself, Aeka removed her hand from Sasami’s shoulder. “It’s breakfast time, Sasami.”
Yawning, Sasami rolled over on to her back and then sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Breakfast…?”
“That is correct.”
Suddenly, Sasami was very awake. “Breakfast? Oh, no! I slept in!”
“Hush, dear,” Aeka assured quietly. “It’s already been taken care of. Breakfast has been prepared by Mr. Masaki, today.”
Sasami shook her head, quickly trying to get herself awake. “But I forgot! Everyone must be upset!”
Her attempt to stand was thwarted as Aeka’s hands fell upon her shoulder, forcing her to stay in her futon. “Nonsense, Sasami. No one is upset. You needn’t worry about such a thing.”
“But I forgot to make breakfast! I feel so bad…”
“It’s only breakfast, Sasami,” Aeka noted, catching her sisters gaze with her own. “But that’s not what’s important.”
“I guess…” Sasami conceded, still not too pleased with herself.
“However, Sasami,” Aeka began, her gaze and voiced concerned. “I am worried about you.”
Sasami blinked. “Huh? I’m sorry, Aeka. I didn’t mean to. I won’t do it again.”
“I told you not to worry about that,” Aeka sighed. “But that is not what I am referring to. You have been sleeping in much more lately. Plus, you have been going to bed quite a bit earlier than normal. You also seem to be most tired during the day. I am concerned for your health, Sasami.”
Sasami bit her lip. “Aeka, I’m okay. Honest.”
“Of course you are,” the violet haired Princess quickly agreed with a nod. “But I want you to know that if you ever do feel sick, you mustn’t be afraid to tell someone. We just want to help you.”
“Okay, Aeka… but I’m fine. Really. And I won’t miss making breakfast again. I promise!”
“Alright, alright. But you shouldn’t feel so obligated towards preparing breakfast, Sasami. No one will hold it against you if you are ill, or aren’t in the mood, or—“
“Aeka.” Sasami interceded, leveling her gaze with her sisters. “I mean it. I won’t miss it again.”
Sighing once again, Aeka nodded, clasping her sister’s hand in her own. “I know, dear. I know. Now why don’t you come downstairs? It’s already half-passed-eight. Do you not want anything to eat?”
The younger Princess managed a smile. “Sure, Aeka. I’ll be there.”
Aeka stood carefully, matching Sasami’s smile. “Very good then, Sasami. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs, then.”
Sasami watched quietly as Aeka made her way over to the door, and let herself out of their room. She just didn’t understand. No one understood. No one knew what it was, and what if felt like. Not that she ever expected them to, of course. She never wanted them to, either. She was happy to bear the burden all on her own, and there was nothing that could stop her from doing just that. Even still, though, it was tiring. She was still young, and the act of managing, incorporating, and processing unfathomable energies at the speed of thought was incredibly taxing. She wasn’t too terribly sure how much longer she could maintain the pretense that ‘everything was okay’.
Her head tilted to the side, facing the corner of the room. For a moment, she could almost discern the lines of a faded bed. White sheets messily scattered across an ivory mattress, supported by wooden beams and planks. It was crude, but it was comfortable. But it wasn’t even there. Sasami’s eyes were hollow as the image that she wasn’t even certain was there at all faded once again. Absently, Sasami could’ve sworn she caught the scent of a stain of blood.
The faint sound of the wind gently stroked against the window on the wall, and she opened her mouth slowly. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was speaking. “I promise…”
Her words were so concise and small that she didn’t even know if she heard them. Swallowing tightly, Sasami began to achingly extract herself from her futon, and prepared to join the rest of her family for breakfast.
__________
He rose over her. His breath was so warm; it absolutely intoxicated her. His skin against hers was like velvet, wrapping itself across silk and entwining itself upon her. He touched her, in that way that only he could. She felt his hands over her shoulders, her chest, across her breasts, only to repeat the cycle of need. His lips kissed the soft skin of her neck urgently, fluttering all over her as if he wanted to taste every single facet of her entire body at the same time.
Kiyone couldn’t have enough. This wasn’t enough. There had to be more. There had to be a way to press themselves even closer, to mold themselves into a single entity. As he lay on top of her, thrusting himself into her again and again, her legs wrapped around his waist. It was absolutely inebriating. She had to have more. Her entire mind was a blank slate of passionate savagery. Soft sheets lay on her back, cradling them into a satin cocoon.
His black hair flickered in and out of sight as her vision slipped in and out of focus. Her entire being was fluctuating between surreal existence and agonizing pleasure. He murmured her name again and again as he continued their rhythm, clearly in a mirror state of urgency as her. Her power, her essence, her lust was just so absolute that nothing else mattered. In fact, at that moment, there was nothing else.
That’s why you did it, then.
Kiyone ran her hands up his back and grabbed a tangled mess of his black hair. “Ryoma…” she moaned, unable to say anything other than his name. There was no love here. She had never even really thought about that. She had wanted it, yes, but it wasn’t here. This was comfort. This was her unrelenting desire to feel the touch of another. She had to be with him. She couldn’t stand being alone. Alone was darkness, darkness was emptiness, it was her birth and she hated that she hated the dark she hated nothingness and emptiness and
You put the gun into his fucking face.
A gradual warmth of golden power surged inside of her, channeling through a small crevice inside of her essence. The crevice gave way as it all shattered, her world, her everything, her nothing, it all crumbled in one systematic burst of horrendous pleasure. It hurt so much, that it felt so good. Her eyes were nothing to her then, because she couldn’t even see anymore. Everything was fuzzy. Everything became blue, a strange shade of warmth and comfort. It enveloped her, pouring over her hot and sticky.
Then you pulled the trigger.
He wasn’t finished. She could feel him even stronger now, as if he could never get enough of her. They were animals, savage and brutal, unleashed upon each other. Everything was taboo, and it all had to be shattered. Every rule needed to be broken, everything they could say needed to be said, and it all had to happen in one single instant. A systematic rocking further delved Kiyone into pale blue, a warm place from which she never wanted to leave. She didn’t need to care about anything, here. She didn’t need to worry about how she didn’t love Ryoma, about how she was just using him to alleviate her loneliness. She hated being alone. Anything, anything was better than being alone. Alone is where the
Darkness
lives. The darkness is fear, and fear is the end. Sinful contamination was nothing compared to fear and death and hatred.
That’s why you did it.
To keep you from fading away.
Reality quivered, pleasure quaked, and everything suddenly became one being. Unrighteous pain splintered into blissful zenith, a scream that etched itself upon her memory and then faded just as quickly, washed away by their own cries of release. She had nothing to give him except this. This was all she had. It was all she could do to keep herself from succumbing to hatred, knowing that she was using him. Using him to keep the darkness away. To keep the loneliness away. Descending down into a spiral, a never ending crux teetering atop shattered glass. The explosive moment of physical ascension, followed by a shudder down into soft blue. So, as he did for her, she gave hers to him.
Her ultimate everything.
__________
Relentless metal shackled across soft flesh; chaffing her wrists. Her hands were bound, her head was drooped, and her eyes were empty. Kiyone didn’t even know where she was going. Shapeless, unmemorable walls of rusted taint past her by as she continued to tread onward. Gruff hands held her arms as two men continued to escort her further into dilapidation. Her hair was matted and messy, green splinters caught amongst a web of dirt. Tattered circles gestured underneath her eyes, sleep aching to be dwindled upon.
The cuffs really hurt. Her delicate skin became inflamed from consistently being crushed against the braces, but she could barely even register the pain. Her mind wasn’t with her as she was escorted further into the prison by two security guards. A drab, single-piece vanilla uniform was her sole means of clothing, ragged and worn from overuse. Across her right breast was a numerical marking, which read:
GP6741948 : Makibi Kiyone
Vague cells passed her by as the three of them walked further into the depths of the prison, a sense of enforced holocaust stripping over her senses. Inmates jeered and commented snidely as they marched past, but Kiyone couldn’t even hear them. There was a world in which she lived, a place in which she visited – become of her own design. That was her world, now. Her eyes were vacant, as Kiyone was no longer looking through them. She had withdrawn like a frightened and wounded animal, cowering in a corner of her own mind, hoping beyond hope that something would come to take everything away.
Faintly, Kiyone realized that they had stopped marching. The two guards had forced her to a halt in front of what she gathered was to be her cell. One guard continued to reaffirm his grip on her arm while the other dangled a set of keys from his belt. After fishing around the myriad of studded silver, he found what he was looking for. Casually, he unlocked the cell with the correct key, pushing the large reinforced metal door open into the decrepit room within.
Dank walls rustling against stained floors awaited Kiyone, along with
darkness
Suddenly the world returned. Terror screamed inside of her head, pulling her underneath in an overpowering undertow. Reality swiveled and collapsed on top of her, fear becoming all that there was. Kiyone’s breath quickened, and she began to backpedal from the dark hole which was to be her cell. The guards acted quickly, grabbing a hold of her arms again, her face stricken with sheer terror.
“No… no… no…” she whimpered, a scared child all that there was. “Please don’t put me in there!”
The first of the guards, Kanno by nametag, backhanded her across the face. “Shut up, murderer! Shut the hell up! Get in the fucking cell!”
Kiyone, not fazed by the slap to the face, looked pleadingly at Kanno as a trickle of blood fell from her lip. “Please… please don’t… the dark…”
Kanno leered at her unsympathetically; his eyes nothing more than detached spheres of control. Kiyone saw nothing of remorse in those eyes. “Get in the cell. Now. If you don’t, we’ll have to sedate you.”
Kiyone took another look at the dark cell, the stained crusts against the walls peeling off. A chamber of filth, oppressing with infinite darkness. She looked back at Kanno frightfully, and petulantly shook her head. “No… please! PLEASE!”
Frowning, Kanno looked at his companion and nodded. Kiyone was continuing to frantically maneuver herself as far away from the cell as possible, the world of terror still all that was. Kanno kept his powerful grip on the frightened Kiyone, while the other, Kintarou his nametag read, removed a syringe from a pouch on his belt. As Kiyone’s eye fell upon the needle, she began to thrash, her fright seeping off out of her and into the real world through her cries and shudders.
Growling in frustration, Kanno continued to overpower Kiyone. “Dammit, hurry up and sedate this bitch!”
The clouds parted, her vision cracked open, and a white essence of agony spewed through the cracks. Kiyone was paralyzed in the horrid admixture of pain and terror as she felt the needle pressed into her vein, pumping horrific chemicals into her bloodstream. The world began to bleed away in a dazzling white brilliance, before everything became crimson, and her eyes were red ruin. She could feel her strength leaving her, and her mind frantically began to withdraw into her blue place.
Arrogantly, Kanno smirked as Kiyone began to grow limp, and her thrashing ceased. “’Bout fucking time.”
Kiyone’s unintelligible murmurs were ignored as the two guards hastily moved Kiyone forward to her cell. As everything spun around itself in Kiyone’s eyes, they removed her cuffs, and then tossed her roughly on to the decaying cot in the corner of the cell. Kiyone stared blankly at the ceiling as everything was crashing down upon her, the darkness of sleep veiled across her senses.
The door slammed shut, bathing her in black.
A single tear fell from her eye, as she blinked slowly. “Please…”
Darkness fell.
__________
Pristine sheets of alabaster were like velvet; dry warmth from simple contact. Flawless ivory skin entwined with layers of satin snow, peaked by a flowing elegance of moss hair splashing over soft pillows. Faint essences of bland light seeped through closed drapery, cultivating the gentle silence of the welcoming room. Kiyone stirred gradually in the bed, her naked body feeling the cool wisp of exposition. She yawned heavily and stretched, rubbing her thighs together absently. Turquoise eyes blinked slowly, accepting the pain of light.
With a sigh, Kiyone smiled to herself, rolling towards the wall. She stopped, becoming more awake. She had been anticipating the warmth of another, and yet here was nothing. Slowly, Kiyone began to sit up, a puzzled look crossing her features. The white sheet fell from her grasp as she sat up, exposing her bare torso to the vacant room. A quick glance solidified the fact that she was indeed alone. Her eyes fell to the floor, expecting to find a mess of clothes, but there was nothing. His clothes were gone, while hers were neatly hung over a chair on the far side of the room.
Kiyone frowned. “Gone…?”
Yawning once again, Kiyone extracted herself from the bed, and stood atop the hardwood floor. She walked over to the closet and pulled the door aside, revealing a change of clothes and a soft, blue flannel robe. She took the robe and wrapped it around herself, grateful for the warmth it provided. Compelled by a strange sense of curiosity, Kiyone walked over to the dresser where a various smattering of objects lay. A blaster, some jewelry, a mirror, inexpensive cosmetics – and a small violet velvet box.
Gingerly taking the box into her hands, Kiyone snapped the top open, unsure as to what she was doing. She blinked, finding that the box was empty, a single slot for a ring vacant. A moment of uncertainty passed over her, as she stood, staring at the empty box. Eventually, she slowly closed the box, and placed it back on the dresser as she found it. Curiously appraising the room once again and the unmade bed, she shrugged, and walked over to the door and left the room.
The hallway was the same. It was empty, making Kiyone feel strangely on edge. The house seemed unnaturally quiet and calm, something that unnerved her on this particular occasion. She had expected to find something to designate the signs of life – the scent of coffee, the faint claptrap of the television, or even the subtle hints of the sounds of someone walking across the hardwood. However, nothing indicated life. It was odd, since she lived alone, but she had expected him to still be here.
Don’t… he’ll kill you…!
Kiyone’s grip around her robe tightened as she walked down the hall, past the empty rooms, towards the staircase. Her bare feet made dull thuds against the floor, the only sound present in the large home. Brushing a strand of emerald hair behind her ear, Kiyone slowly began to descend the stairs, still waiting for any sort of indication that he was still here.
A picture hung from the wall, above the telephone. It was a quaint image of Kiyone standing in front of a lake with a shy smile on her face, holding down a sunhat with her free hand. Standing next to her was a tall man with black, spiky hair who was grinning. They were holding hands. The picture was tinted artistically in a copper hue, giving it the façade of a painting.
The phone was off the hook.
Kiyone frowned as she saw the black receiver lying next to the body of the phone, the lingering yet incessant staccato of the electric chime indicating that no one was on the line. It was an old phone, a spin-dial receiver attached by a black twist cord. Kiyone picked the receiver up, and went to hang it up. However, just before she rested the phone atop its cradle, she stopped. Timidly, driven by some unnamed emotion, she raised the receiver to her ear to listen. The sound intensified as she rested the phone against her ear, and she stared numbly at the picture that hung on the wall.
Subdued, Kiyone murmured, “No one’s there…”
She hung up the phone.
And once again, the house was bathed in silence. Muted light crept in from various windows, indication that it was a cloudy day. The house seemed almost still, as if it had been suspended in a state of dusk. Kiyone walked into the living room to find it empty, and the television off. She swallowed, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was alone. Her pace picked up as she briskly walked into the kitchen to find it as all the others. Empty. Everything was neatly put in its place, and nothing seemed out of order.
But that just wasn’t possible. They had made a mess of the entire house the previous night. Their lovemaking had been so spontaneous and unbridled that it had taken them a good while to eventually find themselves in the bedroom. They had knocked over furniture, left doors open, left various articles of clothing everywhere – and yet the house was as if it had never been touched.
Sighing to herself, Kiyone walked across the kitchen to the refrigerator to fetch herself some orange juice. A cool blast from the interior brought Kiyone further awake, and she began to shiver somewhat from her state of undress. Grabbing the carton of juice, she quickly shut the door with her foot and fumbled for a glass, eager to drink something. Desperately, she began to gulp the orange fluid, wishing that she could wash away along with the juice itself.
Emptying her glass, she glanced over at the digital clock embedded in the oven. She crossed her arms and sighed. “Well, gotta go on patrol.”
Her eyes were sad as she glanced around herself once again, futilely wishing that she’d find him in her second look. Knowing that it was impossible, she wasn’t let down when her eyes didn’t find him after gazing around the kitchen again. Kiyone felt scared, lonely, and repressed. Where had he gone? Why wasn’t he here? Didn’t he even leave a note?
Kiyone took a deep breath, and slowly began to make her way back to the room upstairs to get ready for work. She sighed, scratching her arm absently. Before she managed to leave the kitchen, however, she was abruptly stopped at the doorway. She paused, collecting her thoughts as she locked her eyes with that who now stood in her presence. Coral splashed upon teal.
Kiyone bit her lip. “Hi, Sasami.”
__________
The door slid open abruptly, the sound of pelting rain intensifying as there was nothing to restrain it. Lucid cracks of thunder bruised the ash sky, promising more of the same. Kiyone, with a large paper bag of groceries in one hand and an umbrella in the other, darted into the house quickly. She turned and slid the door shut behind her, effectively sealing her off from the pouring rain.
She grinned, wiping rainwater from her brow. “Whew! It just won’t let up!”
Smiling to herself, she closed the umbrella and placed it in a small whicker basket adjacent to the door. With her free hand, as she still held the groceries in the other, she began to slip her shoes off. She looked out into the hall. “I’m home!”
Not receiving a reply, Kiyone shrugged, and moved into the hallway. Sniffling from the cold mixture of sweat and rainwater, she mentally noted to change clothes. Stopping at the desk in front of the stairs, Kiyone examined the phone and the answering machine. A single message was recorded on the small, black box. Delicately placing the groceries on the ground, Kiyone pushed the button to play the message back, and began to wring water out of her hair as she listened.
“Hey, honey,” the voice spoke.
Kiyone grinned to herself, squeezing her hair.
“Sorry, but I’m gonna be a bit late. Don’t worry, though – I’ll be right on time for dinner, you’ll see. Hell, I’ll even bring the wine. Promise. Work’s been a bitch, today, I’m afraid. Well, anyways, hope patrol wasn’t too rough on ya. I’ll see ya tonight. Love you.”
A single electronic beep indicated that the message was over, and Kiyone was smiling happily at the machine. “Love you too, Ryoma.”
Kiyone picked up the grocery bag, and as she stood, she wistfully appraised the faded photograph hung above the telephone. She had always been rather awkward around cameras, and she always came off as shy in every picture that she had ever received. Not Ryoma, though – he seemed so cavalier in his pictures. Kiyone chuckled to herself as she looked at his strong face grinning broadly at the camera with his arm around Kiyone, his untamed black hair waving in the wind.
“Well, don’t want to disappoint,” Kiyone commented smugly, as she began to make her way through the living room with the groceries and into the kitchen. The rain outside was pouring just as heavily as ever, and it created a gentle, comforting atmosphere indoors. It had been a long time since Kiyone had felt so utterly happy and fulfilled, and there was really nothing that could bring her down when her spirits were this high.
Whistling to herself, she began to systematically empty the contents of the grocery bag on to the counter, feeling that for once, all was right with the world. This feeling lasted only a few flickering seconds, in the end, as she heard a loud crash in the adjacent living room. Kiyone whirled, her eyes wide. Instinctively, she reached into the grocery bag and withdrew her thin blaster, and began to slowly creep towards the door.
“Ouch…”
Kiyone blinked, the sound from living room that of a small child. Carefully, Kiyone made her way through the door with her blaster lowered, not really wanting to point a gun at a child. She stared astonished at what she saw when she entered the room.
Sitting on the couch, rubbing her head was a small girl. The girl appeared to be no more than eight or nine years old, Kiyone imagined, and she was expressed by two large, rose eyes and a head of mesmerizing cerulean hair which fell behind her in two extravagant pigtails. “Ow…”
Placing the gun on the counter at the edge of the kitchen, Kiyone turned sternly to the little girl. “Excuse me?”
The girl blinked at Kiyone. “Oh… hi.”
Kiyone stared at the young girl for a moment. “Um… dear… exactly what are you doing in my house?”
The young girl giggled. “Huh? But this is my house!”
“That’s not very funny, little girl,” Kiyone admonished. “It’s not a good idea to be breaking into someone’s house. You could get arrested.”
Unsure, the girl looked hurt. “But… this really is my house!”
Sighing, Kiyone walked over towards the girl and looked her straight in the eye. “Alright, whatever. Let’s call your parents, okay?” She wasn’t about to blow her top at a young child.
“Why?” the girl smiled. “What’s your rush? Ryoma’s not coming in for a while, you just got back from the grocery store, patrol was murder, and you want someone to talk to. Why don’t we just have a nice chat, Kiyone?”
Kiyone was left speechless. “B… but…”
The girl giggled, and then smiled happily. “My name is Sasami! Let’s be friends, okay?”
Mouth hanging open, Kiyone could only nod numbly. “Yeah… friends…”
“Great!”
Kiyone plopped down next to Sasami, and appraised her seriously. “How do you know all of that, Sasami? How do you know so much about me?”
Sasami giggled, playfully kicking her feet against the side of the couch. “Because I am you, silly!”
Thunder crashed overhead, accentuating the calamity of thought that was raging torrentially through Kiyone’s consciousness. The silence stretched between the two, the only sound being that of the pouring rain above. Slowly, Kiyone swallowed. “That’s… not funny, Sasami.”
Sasami looked cross. “Do you think I’m lying? Why would I lie?”
Kiyone shook her head, gently putting her hand on Sasami’s shoulder. “Are you feeling ill, Sasami? Perhaps we need—“
“You see?” Sasami interjected. “You said ‘we’. So you know I’m telling the truth.”
Kiyone blinked. She didn’t realize she had said that. It just came out. Could it really be true? No, that was just ridiculous. This was just a sweet girl who had broken into her home, and was now playing mind games with her. Simple as that. There was no way that they were the same person, and there was certainly no way that Kiyone was going crazy. She wouldn’t believe it. She had things to do. She didn’t need this. Ryoma was coming over for dinner, and the food had to be ready. Preparing an entire meal was hard work, and she wanted to do her best, so—
“I could help if you, if you want,” Sasami spoke suddenly.
Kiyone bit her lip, bringing herself back out of thought. “Huh? What did you say?”
Sasami giggled. “With the food. You were just wondering how long it was going to take, right? Well, I can help. I’m a pretty good cook, you know.”
Blankly staring, Kiyone didn’t know what to think. This girl had just appeared out of nowhere, proclaimed that they were the same person, and then read her thoughts as plainly as if they were her own. It was almost is if
We are the same
A shroud pulled over Kiyone’s senses, her heart rate increasing. Suddenly, she began to tremble, as if she had never been afraid before in her life and now, in this single instant, she needed to compensate for everything that she had missed out on. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t. There was no way no way no way no way no way no way
No. This ship belongs to Sasami.
Sasami scooted closer to Kiyone as she felt her other self curling into a ball of fear on the inside. She reached up and put a childish hand on Kiyone’s still damp shoulder, her face sympathetic. “It’s okay, Kiyone. Don’t be afraid. I’ll always be with you, okay?”
Kiyone was trying to breathe.
Sasami exhaled honesty, open and free. “I promise.”
__________
Constable Kintarou Oe smiled nervously as he sat in his leather chair behind his desk, stacked to the brink with paperwork. His eyes followed her back and forth as she paced throughout his small office, chatting about this and that. He cleared his throat, grasping her attention. “Miss Mihoshi, please, if you wish to discuss something, have a seat.”
Mihoshi stopped in her tirade, and blinked. She hadn’t really intended on talking so much, but she just started getting carried away. Doctor Clay was a very important case, and there was a lot to it, so there was much to talk about. “Umm… okay, sir.”
Kintarou gestured to the padded chair across the desk from himself. Mihoshi smiled happily and obliged, her demeanor as unbreakable as reinforced steel. “Thanks, sir. I’ve been standing all day long, and my feet are getting really sore. They shouldn’t make you give oral reports and have to stand the whole time. It’s not good on my feet.”
Kintarou chuckled, pulling up a datapad. “No, of course not, Miss Mihoshi.”
Mihoshi had just recently captured the infamous criminal Doctor Clay, and not too distantly before that, she had been involved in the eventual capture and destruction of Kagato. Great things were in store for Mihoshi’s career, despite what some of her superior officers desired. The GP had no qualms about choosing justice over monetary expenditure, and since Mihoshi never failed if money wasn’t an option, leaving her at her rank as she was now would be downright stupid.
Kintarou adjusted his glasses as he read the datapad. “Might I offer you a cup of coffee, Miss Mihoshi?”
Mihoshi smiled happily. “Please, sir! I’d love one right about now!”
Sniffling, Constable Oe pressed a button on the console that was part of his desk. “Martha, bring Miss Mihoshi some coffee, please.” Satisfied, he returned to his datapad to continue skimming Mihoshi’s elaborate report. “Now, let’s see here, Detective…”
Mihoshi fidgeted in her seat, trying to get more comfortable.
“You came into contact with the event horizon of an artificially constructed black hole,” Oe read, impressed. “And yet here you are, in one piece. That’s quite impressive, Miss Mihoshi.”
“Umm…” Mihoshi started, biting her lip. “That is…”
Kintarou laughed in good nature and waved his hand, adjusting his glasses. “No, don’t worry, Mihoshi. I’m not debriefing you again. I’m just making conversation.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Mihoshi wiped her brow. “That’s good to hear, sir.”
A sharp hiss interrupted their inane banter as a young, cybernetic female entered the room with a circular tray and a mug of coffee. She discretely maneuvered over to Mihoshi and offered the java without so much as a word. Mihoshi thanked the robot and took the coffee, blowing gently on the steaming beverage. The robot turned to the Constable. “Will that be all, Constable Oe?”
Kintarou waved the question aside, his expression passive. “Yes. Thank you, Martha.”
As the cybernetic secretary made her way out of the office, Mihoshi looked at Kintarou seriously. “You know, sir, I was wondering.”
Kintarou chuckled as he leaned back in his seat. “Ah, the heart of the matter. Yes, I assumed you’d have some reason in coming to visit me,” he commented with a wry grin. “So tell me, Miss Mihoshi, what’s on your mind?”
“I heard an awful rumor, earlier today,” Mihoshi began, simply holding her coffee. “The boys from Section35 were talking about how there was some accident on a routine test flight. I didn’t mean to listen in, you see, I just happened to be walking on by to deliver my report. Honest.”
Kintarou smiled, lacing his fingers together behind his head. “Of course not, Miss Mihoshi. Continue.”
Mihoshi coughed delicately. “Well, you see, they said that some people were killed in the accident. It was terrible. But they also said that Captain Hibiki was killed in the accident.”
Kintarou’s jaw tightened.
Mihoshi was silent for a long moment, as she was staring at her mug of coffee. “It… was… just a rumor… right?”
Slowly, Kintarou sat up, withdrawing a single cigarette from an open slot on his desk. His face was a blank slate as he dabbed the end of the cigarette into an automatic lighter, and spoke. “No, Miss Mihoshi, I’m afraid that’s not a rumor.”
He swallowed harshly as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth. “About a week ago, actually.”
Mihoshi sighed despondently, hoping to death that it was indeed just a rumor. “That’s so sad. She was such a nice person.”
Kintarou raised his eyebrows daintily in agreement as he fell back into his chair with the lit cigarette in his mouth. “Yeah… yeah, she damn well was.”
An awkward silence cast over the two of them, as they both momentarily reflected on their times spent with a fellow officer and a friend. Mihoshi tried to refrain from crying, so she drank from the steaming hot coffee, hoping that she wouldn’t start bawling in front of her superior officer.
Oe took a long drag before speaking again. “In any event, what’s done is done, unfortunately. I believe they’re going to begin the encephalon deconstruction tomorrow.”
Mihoshi blinked. “Oh, really? Why?”
He shrugged, staring off at nothing in particular. “Well, she was Jurain. All Jurain GP’s have the encephalon deconstruction after they die. As you know, it’s standard procedure for all memories of all active and inactive GP registries to be uploaded into the main databank. Well, according to Jurain religion, all minds have to link to Tsunami’s or something, even through death. So all memories are to be duplicated and then handed over to the Jurain government so they can stream them into Tsunami’s lifestream.”
Mihoshi nodded, recalling such an instance before. There weren’t very many Jurain police officers. “Right… that’s how they make new space tree ships, right?”
Kintarou shrugged, nonchalant. “Yeah, I think so.”
Nodding, Mihoshi returned to staring at her coffee.
Kintarou coughed, and extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray. He looked at the younger Detective seriously. “Mihoshi, I have to ask. Why did you come to see me, of all people?”
Thinking for a moment, Mihoshi answered honestly. “I don’t really know, sir. I just remember that you and Captain Hibiki were close. I… I thought I could relate to someone, I guess.”
Kintarou blinked. “You and Amaiko were close?”
“No, not really,” Mihoshi admitted, feeling herself beginning to cry. “But she was just so nice to me, sir.”
Sighing, Kintarou sat up and looked at Mihoshi seriously. “I’m sorry, Miss Mihoshi. Go on; take the rest of the day off. You should go home to your family now.”
Mihoshi sniffled, and placed the mug on the desk. “O, okay, sir. Thank you. Thanks for the coffee.”
Kintarou smiled. “Don’t mention it. Take care.”
“You too.”
__________
The erratic resonance of a fan clicking against its bolts brought her out of sleep. The methodical clank of the ventilation duct was irritating, and never really allowed her to fully fall into slumber when she was without any form of suppressants. Her uniform had grown itchy over the last few days, and her skin felt as if there were microscopic parasites crawling all over her. The stagnant stench of neglect coupled with her frayed clothes and sheets; a marriage of desecration. None of this really mattered to Kiyone at this point, of course, since Kiyone wasn’t even really within herself at all anymore.
Her tarnished face was hollow, a void expression. The dark cell had immobilized her in terror upon her awakening, and she had retreated into her blue place. She couldn’t fully escape her reality and what it had become, but she found ways to suppress what was real and immolate herself in the scalding fire of disconnection. If there was nothing but fear, she created a place where she and she alone could go to.
She was lonely, but there, she had friends. In that place, she was somebody. People looked up to her and cared for her there. She didn’t care that it was an illusion – a desperate attempt to compensate for the weakness that she possessed deep down inside. She closed her eyes and saw blue. Everything was blue in her world. Her body was filthy, she hadn’t eaten anything in the last few days, and she was beginning to show signs of malnourishment. She had become withered and frail, and if this pace kept up for much longer, it wouldn’t be long at all until she simply became an effigy – cold, and dead.
But Kiyone didn’t care anymore. She was awaiting the time when it would all end, when her blue world would become fuzzy and start spilling out of her head, and then she’d finally go to sleep. The fan wouldn’t be able to stop her. Those guards wouldn’t be able to stop her.
Nothing could stop her.
She had been looking for an exit her entire life, trying desperately to find a way out of the world, and at last, she had found it. She found her exit – the only way to escape the fear of her life. The place that brought her utter pleasure would be that which would take her away. A fitting irony, she decided. So, she lay there on the cot, rotting like a corpse. She didn’t move, and she barely even breathed. Her eyes were closed, and she had become like a broken doll.
Faintly, she wished she had a gun.
Yes, now that would be irony.
Interlude
Interlude Music: Fred’s World; Angelo Badalamenti
introjection: n. (psychoanalysis) the internalization of the parent figures and their values; leads to the formation of the superego.
…to realize is to
learn
…to realize you are alive is to
breathe
…to realize you are a self is to
think
…to realize you can climb is to
fall
…to realize you can feel joy is to
hurt
…to realize there is hope is to
break
…to hold a gun in your hands is to
bleed
…to end everything in one flash is to
discard
…to kill everything away is to
live
this door is open | this is not an exit
A door closes.
A life ends.
Endless blue, killing him away.
Tsunami…?
Red eyes, laughing at us.
Stopping the darkness at the edge.
What is this that I’m feeling?
Don’t take him away, Tokimi…
I didn’t want to kill him.
The assimilation will…
Now I’ve got you!
Fascinating…
What did you just do?!
End of the line, Kiyone.
I want to make him mine!
My blue place…
The gun is in her mouth.
Do it.
I shot him dead.
Hurt me.
Well done, Tsunami… splendid plan.
Ahh…
So this means that…
Do it.
It begins, here.
Red eyes, not her own…
Do it!
This boy is… your successor…
Fuck, I…
And then…
DO IT!
Yes.
Then she…
i am an exit
== End Interlude ==
~*~ Last Breath: “Driver Down” ~*~
Strangled light sifted through the massive, desolate home, coating everything in rather uninspiring shades of gray. The home itself was bustling with activity, however it was all calculated and meticulous. Denizens of Galaxy Police officers examined various different articles of interest while many took photographs of others. A light murmur of constabulary babble was the conversational undertone. Detectives, those who wore charcoal suits as opposed to the rigid cuffed uniform of a beat-officer, wore translucent gloves as they studied areas of interest under intense scrutiny.
First Class Detective Kanno sighed as he weaved his way through the large house, being careful not to disturb any of the other officers or a stray object that might have any sort of pertinence. His hands were casually held within the pockets of his business suit, and his eyes were sharp and precise, despite his aura of nonchalance. He came to a flight of wooden stairs, where several beat-officers were discussing something. A small black desk was situated at the foot of the stairs, where an old-fashioned film noir telephone was perched.
Kanno stopped for a moment; as such a phone wasn’t one that was common to be found in the home of a Galaxy Police Official. As he stopped, his eyes fell on to a large photograph that was framed and nailed to the wall directly above the phone itself. The picture was color-schemed to a dull bronze, giving it the sense of an artistic painting as opposed to that of a simple photograph. In the picture, a single woman stood alone in front of a lake. She gazed shyly at the camera while holding a sunhat atop of her head. Her other hand was held empty at her side.
“Hmm…” he clicked his tongue in thought. “Pretty girl.”
Shrugging and electing to leave the more finite details to Forensics, Kanno casually made his way up the wooden stairs, and into the long hallway. A large cluster of GPs were gathered around a single room, chatting and taking pictures. Sniffling, he made his way over to the larger group, taking in his surroundings as they came. The murmur of chatter was growing louder, and he immediately came to the conclusion that this room was the location of the crime scene.
He walked up to a pair of Patrol Officers who were discussing something, but barring access to the room. “Hey, fellas.”
They stopped talking, and faced him. One spoke. “Yes?”
Kanno pointed to his identification which was attached to his left breast. “First Class Detective Kanno, here. Wanna let me in?”
After a brief glance at his tag, they parted like water. “Of course, go right on in, sir.”
With a nod, Kanno made his way past the two officers and into the room itself. It was a small room, containing nothing more than a bed, a dresser, a closet, and a lone window on the far wall. Within the room itself was nothing but dark suits. Just over half a dozen detectives were analyzing and discussing things within the room itself. He could smell the familiar stench of blood, now, and it was tainted with the gradual erosion of decay. A fellow detective tossed him a pair of translucent gloves as he entered the room, and he systematically donned them as if it were reflex.
And there he was, right in the middle of the room.
Kanno let out a breath of air as he casually sauntered over to the corpse, and then knelt down next to it. “Well, let’s see what we got here…”
The body had been decimated. An average Caucasian male, no immediately distinguishing features placing him to immediate memory. A tattered mess of blond locks were adorned atop of his head, or at least, what remained of it. The back of his head had exploded outward, obviously from an orally inflicted gunshot wound. Crimson essence stained the floor around his head, while dainty scraps of skin, flesh and bone hinged tenuously around the back of his skull. Previously festering now rotting exposed brain tissue was splattered across the floor, back towards the wall.
Gently, Kanno leaned in towards the deceased’s mouth. As he did, another Detective kneeled down next to him. “Poor bastard.”
Kanno smirked. “No kidding. Self inflicted?”
“No blaster.”
“Shit, I hate murder cases.”
The other Detective chuckled. “You’re telling me.”
Kanno squinted carefully, and then grinned. “Ah hah, so there we are.” He leaned forward, and the other Detective watched curiously. Kanno ran his index finger along the man’s cold upper lip delicately until he found what he was looking for. “Alright, buddy, give it up.”
Closing his thumb on his index finger, Kanno pulled upwards, taking a thin strand of hair with him. He appraised the hair carefully, and took in a deep breath. The other Detective began to rummage around for a plastic bag to store the hair in. As he did, Kanno tilted his head, trying to get better light on the follicle. “Hmm… green. Kind of like…”
His memory drifted back to the picture he saw above the phone. He nodded. “Yeah, like that.”
The other Detective returned, holding the transparent bag open. Kanno carefully lowered the hair in as evidence, and the other Detective was quick to seal the bag back up. The two of them then stood, appraising the corpse. His eyes were shut, and he had a surprisingly serene facial expression, as if he had welcomed his fate. Something about that bothered Kanno.
“I think it might be suicide,” he finally commented. “Or maybe euthanasia.”
The other Detective didn’t take his eyes off the corpse. “You think? But there’s no gun.”
“Well, look at him. He’s one happy camper. Maybe someone just tampered with the evidence.” Kanno sighed, looking around the rest of the room as the other Detectives discussed their opinions with one another. “I don’t know. Probably has something to do with that girl in the photo.”
The Detective blinked. “Huh? What photo?”
Kanno yawned, and turned and walked over to the dresser. “Downstairs… you should check it out. Nice pic. She’s a real cutie.”
The dresser was clean, save for the few droplets of blood that had fallen atop its wooden surface. There were a variety of random objects in an untouched state, none of which really had any sort of value. Save for one. Kanno tilted his head in interest as a small, violet box caught his eye. He carefully lifted the box off of the dresser, and turned it over to look at the bottom. The other Detective joined him.
“What is it?”
Kanno wrinkled his mouth in thought. “Hmm… well, this here’s a ring-case. And… yeah, for sure. This is the Galaxy Police Coat of Arms on the bottom.”
The other Detective blinked, turning from Kanno to the corpse and then back. “You mean this guy’s a GP?”
Letting out a breath, Kanno shrugged. “How the hell’d I know? Probably. Well, someone is, since someone used GP funding to buy this ring.”
Turning the small box back over again, Kanno gingerly clicked the top open, and then lifted it, exposing the interior for all to see. Held within the box itself was a very decorative wedding ring. A circlet of gold with silver enamel carved along the rim. Crafted out of diamonds, an elaborate design of tree branches entwined upon themselves, emerald upon auburn.
Kanno took in a breath. “Hmm… well, this is a surprise.”
“Heh,” the other Detective agreed. “No kidding. A Jurain. That ring is proof of that.”
Appraising the ring closer, Kanno shook his head. “No… I’m thinking that dead-head back there is the GP, and whoever he was proposing to was Jurain.”
The other Detective was silent for a moment, as he was visually scanning the dresser for himself. He was deep in thought, as they all were, trying to decipher as much as they could with the little clues that they had. His train of thought was derailed as his eyes fell upon a picture frame resting on the top of the dresser. He blinked, and then tapped Kanno.
He pointed at it. “Hey, maybe her, do you ya think?”
Kanno
stopped looking at the Jurain engagement ring, and looked at the picture.
The photo itself was black and white, but it appeared to be relatively
recent, taking into account the similarity of the man in the photograph
to the corpse lying on the ground behind them. In the photo, the
blond man was grinning with his arm around a beautiful young woman while
sitting on a boat. The woman was mesmerizing in her beauty.
Her cerulean hair fell to her knees, and her smile was soft yet loving.
She radiated kindness, by simply looking at her.
Kanno blinked. “Shit, man. That’s Tsunami.”
The other Detective quickly peered closer and the photo, and then shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned! It sure as hell is! Or at least, someone who looks exactly like her. What the hell is some Jurain Goddess doing with this guy?”
Kanno looked at ring again. “Who knows. This is crazy shit.”
Meticulously, Kanno’s eyes examined the engagement ring again. After, he slowly glanced at the photo, taking in Tsunami’s features as they were permanently engraved within the image. His eyes then fell back to the corpse lying on the ground, and he allowed himself to remember the green hair he had extracted, as well as the photo of the single woman who had been standing alone down the stairs. As he tried to tie all of these together, he found that he was left with a supreme shortage of clues, and finally returned his gaze to the ring in his hands.
He closed the box with a smirk. “Weird.”
__________
“Kiyone, hurry up!”
Stumbling slightly in the darkness, Kiyone managed to catch herself before she fell face first onto the pavement. She wasn’t used to wearing high-heels, so it took some getting used to. Night had fallen, stars cresting the sky in celestial permanence. It was a warm summer’s night, without the burning aid of the sun; it was quite pleasant. Streetlights cast their pale glow, illuminating Kiyone’s trek down the sidewalk with her friend. She wore a black silk dress, shimmering, soft to the touch. The dress hugged her body tight from her ribs to her legs, exposing cleavage and thigh.
Her friend, Mitsuki, was growing impatient. “Come on, Kiyone! We’re gonna be late!”
Mitsuki was adorned in a similar dress, only red where Kiyone’s was black. Kiyone was still trying to adjust to wearing the heels, so her steps were calculated, if not shaky. “I, I’m coming, Mitsuki!” Kiyone sputtered, wavering again. “I’m just not used to these damned heels…”
Mitsuki sighed, and placed her hands on her hips. “Kiyone, dear, no one in their right mind would date someone without proper understanding of the virtues of punctuality. Really, it’s amazing that you haven’t gotten us thrown out of the academy yet!”
After stumbling once more, Kiyone caught up to her friend, and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah… sorry about that. Well, it’s not like this is the academy or anything.”
Mitsuki smirked, as the two of them then turned and continued to walk down the street. “True enough.” She appraised Kiyone out of the corner of her eye. “You really up for this, Kiyone?”
Kiyone shrugged, changing shoulders for her purse. “I guess. I’ve never been on a blind date before. Nothing to lose, I suppose.”
“You must get really lonely by yourself on this backwater world, Kiyone.”
“It’s home,” Kiyone replied, as if that justified everything.
Mitsuki rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Whatever, kid. You really should move out to a colony or something. This is nowhere’s-ville, Kiyone.”
Kiyone sighed, exasperated. She never really liked explaining to everyone why she had chosen to live on Earth. It was just her choice; that was all it was. When she was younger, she had lived with her mother and father on Jurai. However, when Kiyone was no older than six, her mother fled with her from her father, due to the fact that her father had become abusive to both of them. She came to live on Earth, where her father wouldn’t be able to find them. Kiyone had grown up here, in nowhere’s-ville. It was home, and that was enough.
Kiyone cleared her throat, not liking where her thoughts were heading. “So, anyways, Mitsuki… tell me about this guy.”
The two of them turned a corner, and began walking downhill towards a large cluster of restaurants. Mitsuki blinked. “You mean I haven’t told you anything yet?”
Kiyone bit her lip, embarrassed. “No… you just said ‘he’s cute’.”
Mitsuki laughed, and patted Kiyone on the back supportively. “Sorry, kid. Well, my boyfriend is a friend of his. Let’s see… his name is Ryoma, and I think he works at some Intelligence Bureau or something. He’s pretty tall, and he’s got blond hair. He’s nice. You’ll like him.”
Kiyone sighed, beginning to wonder why she had decided to go along with this in the first place. “Alright. I’ll probably blow it. I’m not good with these double dates.”
“Look, Kiyone,” Mitsuki snorted, rolling her eyes. “You’ve never dated a civilized guy. You’ve only been with these weirdo earthlings. Trust me, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Besides, you look great, he’s a great guy, he’s cute… what more do you need?”
Kiyone absently scratched the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am. I’m always right. That’s why I’m going to be the best damn cop in the universe.”
The two shared a small laugh, passing by a few strangers on the street. It felt good to laugh, Kiyone found, as it relieved some of the tension of meeting a total stranger and being their date. Kiyone never put forth much effort into this sort of thing, as she always concentrated on making a life for herself. She wasn’t really much of a people person, as she was very withdrawn, and almost timid of interaction with others. She’d do what had to be done to get somewhere, of course, but when it came down to simple socializing, it was a whole different world altogether.
Kiyone stopped for a moment when she heard a soft giggle. It was strange that she’d even be caught off guard by such a gesture, which made all the more curious about where it came from. She began to curiously scan the street for the epicenter of the emanation. Mitsuki stopped as well, looking at Kiyone curiously.
“What’s up, Kiyone?”
A gentle laugh cut through the thick night air once again, causing Kiyone to turn around and look across the street. Underneath a tall streetlamp stood a small girl. She was dressed in a series of peculiarly elaborate raiment’s, nobility manifest under gentle magnitude. Her smile was soft and playful, and she locked eyes Kiyone for a long moment. Kiyone found herself bound to those eyes, as if she was born to live to come to this moment and look upon them.
Mitsuki looked across the street, and then over to Kiyone. “Hey, Kiyone, what’s gotten into you?”
Kiyone blinked, and looked over at Mitsuki. “Oh, sorry, that girl just caught my attention.”
“Girl?” Mitsuki looked across at the streetlamp. “What the hell are you babbling about? There’s no girl.”
Kiyone turned, and the streetlamp was vacant. The girl, if she was even there in the first place, was gone, leaving nothing more than the faintest ethereal whisper of her laugh. An apparition legion within the light of the fire, melted away into darkness. Kiyone swallowed and looked at Mitsuki, her face pale. “I… thought I saw a girl over there…”
Mitsuki sighed, and patted Kiyone on the back. “You’re just getting the pre-date jitters. Don’t worry, okay? Let’s just get going.”
Taking in a sharp breath, Kiyone nodded, subdued. “Yeah… let’s go.”
The girl watched them, unseen from spindles of darkness. Her lips pulled back into a faint smile, hollow eyes become as light.
All was right with the world.
__________
We, the jury, granted the power invested in us by the Galactic Council, find the defendant: Guilty. On all charges.
Kiyone Makibi, as the jury finds you guilty of manslaughter and murder in the first degree, of a Galaxy Police Officer no less, I hereby sentence you to life without parole. Bailiff, please remove the defendant and escort her to section 00 so that she may have her sentence carried out as soon as possible.
The persistence of memory. A tainted aspect of her humanity that still dwindled within her rotting excuse of a body; something that even her precious blue place couldn’t remove. The anger and pain that came with the memories filled her with a sense of anticipation; she burned for the moment when she would finally be able to sleep and then never wake up.
Kiyone drew a painful breath, her stomach quaking in its desire to be satiated with sustenance. She still hadn’t eaten in more than two days, and her lips had become cracked. Her head was pounding on the inside, a headache that just wouldn’t go away, making it all the more difficult for her to delude her own escape. Kiyone opened her eyes, a strange essence of pain from the disgusting air touching her sensitive optical membrane. She didn’t know why she was awake, all that she knew was she didn’t want to be.
Retreating into blue wasn’t easy, and it was a painful process. But there seemed to be no escaping it. God, she wished she had a gun. That would make it all so much faster. She could just look at the gun in the
darkness
and then place the cold steel between her lips, and then it’d be all over. She’d be free, at last. There wouldn’t be the shackles of disillusion that were bound to her mind since the day she had been born. Rasping, Kiyone sat up, rubbing her throat.
“Water…”
She hadn’t had anything to drink in a long while, either. She had purposefully stayed in her cell as long as she could, and no one had come to stop her from doing just that. It was obvious that no one cared about her anymore, and that suited her just fine. She didn’t care about any of them, either. She was just looking for that one place, that
exit
that’d make everything come true.
Kiyone shut her eyes painfully, and fell back against the steel walls of her cell. The stench of this place was poisoning her mind, she was certain, and could be attested to the horrendous headache she was suffering from. Her hands were weak and fragile as she rubbed her temples, whimpering in agony. A subverted sense of negative bliss, turned against her.
Kiyone struggled to make herself stand, something that used to be simple now so utterly agonizing. Her joints were fighting against her, cracking and popping and making every effort to make it as difficult for her as possible. Once she was finally standing, she stumbled over to the door where those guards would most likely be stationed. She swallowed a few times, trying to lubricate her throat so that she could speak easier before calling out to them. Just before she was about to open her mouth, however, she was interrupted by a very peculiar sound emitting from the other side of the massive steel door.
Listening carefully, Kiyone placed her ear against the door. A muffled cry could be heard through the steel and stone, followed by a sickening rip. Moments later, disgusting thuds cracked through the doorway sonically, and then all was silent. Slowly, Kiyone took a step back from the door in fright, unsure as to what was going on. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She just wanted to be left alone.
Kiyone’s breath caught in her throat as her cell was studded with the thick, penetrating clacks as the deadbolts on her door were released, and a high pitched screech as the door swung open, pouring alien light and air into her chamber. The air was purer than her cell’s, and the light was welcome, although somewhat painful. There didn’t appear to be anyone on the other side of the door.
Dumbfounded, Kiyone walked past the threshold and into the long horizontal chamber where dozens of cells – including hers – were located. Her eyes widened when she stood on the last step before the edge of her cell and appraised what had come to pass. Kanno and Kintarou both lay sprawled out on the ground in bloody messes. Kanno’s throat had been slit, and his precious lifeblood seeped out of the wound in thick spurts. Kintarou suffered several brutal stabbing points along his neck and chest, as he too bled profusely, thick crimson pouring all over his corpse.
Trembling, Kiyone braced herself on the doorframe. “Oh, God…”
“Hi, Kiyone!”
Blinking slowly, Kiyone turned to see Sasami standing over Kintarou’s corpse with a playful smile plastered across her face. “S, Sasami?”
Sasami gave Kiyone a ‘thumbs up’ gesture. “Yup! The one and only!”
Kiyone frantically examined the dead guards. “You did this?!”
Smiling again, Sasami nodded. “Uh huh! I let you out, Kiyone! Yay!”
Kiyone dropped to her knees, unable to believe what was happening. “Sasami… you killed them!”
Slowly, Sasami walked over to Kiyone and stood above her. Kiyone felt Sasami’s gentle hands on her chin as the little girl raised her gaze to meet each other. Her rose eyes were sympathetic. “No, I didn’t, Kiyone.”
“But…”
“You did.”
Kiyone felt sick. “…what?”
Sasami looked sad. “The knife is in your hand, Kiyone.”
Frantically, Kiyone’s eyes dropped to her hand. Indeed, held within her clenched fist was a large knife, stained with blood, as was now her prisoner’s uniform. She shrieked petulantly and threw the knife aside, withdrawing into a fetal position. “No! No! This isn’t happening!”
Sasami let go of Kiyone and took a few steps back before smiling again. “Well, Kiyone, I let you out. It’s up to you what to do now.”
Kiyone wrapped her arms around her legs, desperately trying to force herself back into the blue.
Giggling, Sasami began to skip away. “I think you should run, Kiyone!”
That’s right, just run. Run! RUN AWAY!
Tenchi, no! Run away!
The world snapped back through ethereal whiplash, and Kiyone looked up, but Sasami was gone. There was nothing but the empty silence of an abandoned hall, and the gradual stagnation of two corpses. Kiyone slowly uncurled herself and stood, trying to work her body back into proper circulation. She had no idea what to do now, and she didn’t even know what was going on. This wasn’t at all what she wanted, but nothing ever went the way she wanted.
“Shut up and run, Kiyone,” her mind bit back. “Don’t think. Just RUN.”
Swallowing tightly, Kiyone looked in all directions to see if there was anyone around. Fleeting shadows were her only friends, then, and if she had nothing else in that moment, she had resolve. Blinking back tears, Kiyone stumbled forward in the direction Sasami had fled. Then the only sound that night was the erratic clank of shoes against laced metal walkway as Kiyone ran for her life.
She didn’t even know what she was running from.
__________
Kiyone, simply put, was in hell.
Parties were never really Kiyone’s thing, because she never was really one for massive gatherings or exhibitions. She felt perfectly comfortable being around a select few individuals that she knew well and hanging out, as opposed to thrusting herself into a plethora of unknown faces and then trying to down as much alcohol as was possible. She didn’t easily associate with other people, and that made her a ‘corner person’ at parties. Which was bad enough in and of itself. However, it was even worse when she was hosting such a party against her will.
Her house was swarming with unfamiliar faces, all drinking and being rowdy. She couldn’t walk more than two feet without bumping into someone, and she hadn’t recognized a single person yet. It was rather depressing, and it made her wonder why she even agreed to this stupid idea in the first place. The whole thing had been her boyfriend, Ryoma’s, idea. Ryoma was the kind of ‘people-who-know-people’, and thus thought it would’ve been a great idea to have a large get-together. Unfortunately, he lived in a small apartment somewhere out in the middle of space, while Kiyone lived in a nice large home on a backwater planet called Earth. So lodging choices were limited.
Kiyone sighed for what must have been the millionth time that night, and downed the contents of her drink. She didn’t even know what she was drinking at this point, all that she wanted was to get stupendously drunk to the point at which she wouldn’t remember a damn thing in the morning. Sitting at a makeshift bar that she had set up in the kitchen, she continued to drown herself in her sorrows while everyone else partied around her.
She didn’t even look at what was in her shot glass as it was placed in front of her. It was all the same going down, she figured.
“You know, that’s not good for your health, Kiyone.”
Kiyone blinked, and placed her glass down on the bar. She turned to her left. “…Sasami?”
Sitting adjacent to her at the bar, was the eight-year old Sasami. She wore a sporty T-shirt and matching shorts, and she was nurturing a glass of soda through a straw. She giggled next to Kiyone. “Yay, Kiyone! A party!”
Kiyone scratched her head as she stared astonishingly at the young girl. “W, what are you doing here, Sasami?”
Taking a sip of her soda, Sasami blinked. “Umm… partying?”
Kiyone buried her face in her hands. “You’re just a figment of my imagination…”
“But I’m so fun!” Sasami cheered, hoisting her glass into the air. “We’re supposed to be together, Kiyone! We’re the same!”
Hesitating for the slightest moment, Kiyone turned to face the hired bartender. “Give me the hardest fucking thing you have behind there, and then I don’t care how, make it ten times fucking harder.” Kiyone said deadpan, looking up the bartender. “I want to be passed out by the time it hits the back of my throat.”
The young bartender arched his eyebrow, but began to fix something for her regardless. Kiyone turned to see Sasami shaking her head in teasing admonition. “Kiyone, I told you that’s not healthy. Think of the hangover you’ll have tomorrow!”
Kiyone turned to face the party. “Yeah, like I care at this point.”
Sasami put her cola down and appraised Kiyone. “You wish that Ryoma was partying with you, don’t you?”
Finding no point in arguing her presence, Kiyone shrugged with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess I can’t keep that from you, huh?”
Kiyone’s eyes began to scan the party, looking for her boyfriend. Seeing as he personally knew every single attendee to the party, he wouldn’t have to do a lot of walking around to find a decent discussion. It could take her forever to find him, seeing as there were people partying on all levels of her home. With a sigh of regret, Kiyone turned back to the bar. “Why the hell did I agree to this?”
Sasami patted Kiyone on the shoulder supportively. “It’s okay, Kiyone.”
With a subdued sigh of despondency, Kiyone turned around to retrieve her drink. In time, she hoped, this would all be over, and things would return to normal. The bartender placed whatever it was that she was going to be downing without a second thought in front of her, but didn’t remove his hand. Kiyone blinked slowly, and looked up to meet his gaze. Once their eyes met, he gestured with a nod behind her, an indication that she should turn around.
Kiyone slowly turned, and felt herself becoming utterly enraged. In the center of the living room, she could easily make out the familiar opaque head of hair from the figure of Ryoma while he danced and laughed with a strange red haired woman. The two seemed oblivious to anything else, and both were obviously drunk. Kiyone ground her teeth together as she saw the two of them begin to kiss right out in the open.
Sasami looked concerned. “Oh no…”
Kiyone stood, her face expressionless. “Excuse me, Sasami.”
The former cacophony of abstract conversation seemed so far away now. Everything seemed to focus on Ryoma and that woman, as if nothing else even really existed in the first place. People and voices were just wavelengths that were brushed aside by her calm fury as she stalked across the room towards the object of her antagonism. Despite the churning ocean of animosity that crashed against the rocks of her consciousness, Kiyone’s face was as calm as an undisturbed sea.
She walked right up to the pair, and tapped Ryoma on the shoulder. “Hey, honey.”
Ryoma turned to face her, blinking slowly. “Hey… Kiyone! Great party! Yur th’ best, honey.”
The red head giggled, an incessant noise that made Kiyone want to rip her throat out. “Who’s this broad, Ryoma?”
Kiyone reached out and pulled Ryoma away from the red head instinctively, her face still completely calm. “I’m Kiyone. Ryoma’s girlfriend. At the risk of sounding rude… who the fuck are YOU?”
The woman paused for a moment before breaking out into a fit of laughter, and Ryoma was quick to join in. The very sound made Kiyone want to rend this bitch’s limbs from her body with her bare hands. “Oh, how cute. I’m Martha, dear.”
Kiyone’s grip on Ryoma’s arm tightened, causing him to wince. “Well, isn’t that great. The tramp has a name.”
Martha finally caught on to Kiyone’s hostility, and attempted to win some ground back. “H, hey, now… that’s not very nice… dear.”
Using every urge in her body not to punch Martha or break Ryoma’s arm, Kiyone took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying her best to maintain control. When she opened her eyes and spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m only going to say this once, Martha,” she stressed, her eyebrows pulling into a frown. “This is my house, this is my party, and this is my boyfriend. If you can’t keep your damn hands to yourself, get the hell out.”
Martha paused for a moment, before she and several other men and women burst into a fit of laughter. Ryoma joined them, and Kiyone felt as if the world itself was stabbing her with every shard of rock that existed on the sphere. “Oh… okay, dear, don’t get so uptight.”
Kiyone continued to frown. “I think you should leave, Miss Martha.”
“Fine, fine.” She winked demurely at Ryoma and blew him a kiss. “You’ve got my number, right doll? I’ll see you later…”
Kiyone was about to snap. “Get the hell out of my house!”
Martha and her friends once again began to roar in laughter, and they chorused their childish anthems as they gathered their belongings and began to trounce towards the door, and hopefully in the direction that would involve Kiyone never seeing or hearing from them ever again. Ryoma watched them go despondently, as if his only source of entertainment for the night had been needlessly scorned. Kiyone was only going along for this party for his sake, but after that, well, too bad.
Once Martha and her group had left, Kiyone let go of Ryoma, who began to rub his arm. She looked at him seriously, a clear juxtaposition of hurt and displeasure in her scowl. “This party is over. Send them all home.”
Ryoma frowned, scratching his black hair. “Honey, come on, you’re overreacting. We don’t—“
“Send them home.” Kiyone hissed, glaring acidly at him. “We’re going to have to have a long chat tomorrow, honey. Until then, sleep on the damn couch.”
Ryoma sighed. “Kiyone…”
“Just do it,” Kiyone bit back, walking away from him. “You don’t want me to do it for you. I won’t be half as pleasant.”
As she weaved through the mass of people towards the stairs and her room, Kiyone felt herself beginning to cry.
Sasami watched the whole thing from her seat at the bar, her expression sympathetic. “Oh, Kiyone…”
__________
“Hi, Sasami.”
Kiyone clutched the robe tighter to her body, suddenly very aware of her state of undress. She stood alone in the kitchen, looking down upon the girl who radiated sunshine. Sasami stood grinning in front of her, the same smug and childish expression that was always on her face as present as ever. That smile, Kiyone didn’t want to admit, frightened her more than anything in the entire world.
“Hiya,
Kiyone! Good morning!” Sasami looked past her. “D’ya
want me to fix breakfast for you?”
Kiyone swallowed, trying to push her away mentally. “No. I
have to go on patrol. I have to leave.”
Without looking down at the small girl again, Kiyone pushed her way past Sasami and into the living room. She briskly strode towards the stairs at the end of the hall, eager to get away from the small girl who was tormenting her mind. The very presence of the girl sent shivers down Kiyone’s spine, because she knew that she was just a figment of her imagination. Something that she was stuck with and could never get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.
Sasami looked at Kiyone’s back curiously. “Why are you going on patrol, Kiyone?”
Kiyone didn’t stop moving. “Because it’s my job. I’m still a beat-cop, after all.” Without waiting for an answer, Kiyone turned to walk up the stairs, and make haste towards the shower. She figured a nice cold shower would wash away whatever it was that she was feeling. Even though she couldn’t place what it was, it was terrible. A terrifying aspect of displacement, loneliness, and doubt was strangling her from the emptiness of her home, and Sasami’s presence certainly wasn’t helping things.
Kiyone stopped as she looked up the stairs, Sasami already at the top, looking down at her. “Why are you going, Kiyone?”
Taking a step back, Kiyone found it hard to breathe. “It’s my job, Sasami. Now, please… just leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that, Kiyone,” Sasami told her honestly. “We’re the same.”
Kiyone shook her head, refusing to believe it, even though she knew it was true. “No. No. NO. We’re NOT the same, you’re NOT standing there, and I have to get in to Headquarters before I get my ass in a sling.”
Sasami took a step down the stairs and then sat, looking at Kiyone seriously. “What Headquarters is that?”
Kiyone couldn’t even begin to comprehend why she was giving Sasami the time of day. “The Galaxy Police Headquarters. What else?”
Pausing, Sasami tilted her head, curiously. “…Galaxy Police?”
“That’s right. Now if you’ll please just—“
“But… you’re not a Galaxy Police Officer.”
Unparalleled numbness coursed through Kiyone’s veins, arteries pumped frigid anesthetic. Everything seemed to bend and then pull itself backwards, as if she had just thrust herself like a spear through the flesh of reality. Ghosts of words haunted her mind until one slipped out. “What?”
Sasami nodded seriously, her eyes not leaving Kiyone’s. “It’s true. You know I’m not lying. I’m sorry, Kiyone.”
Kiyone shook her head. “No, no, no. Fuck this. FUCK this. You’re just a voice in my head!” Kiyone grabbed her temples, trying to push anything that had relevance to Sasami out of her mind. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not listening!”
Kiyone shrieked and leapt back as she felt Sasami tap her shoulder from behind, a facet of instantaneous movement that came with a deranged mind. Sasami was sad, and she looked truly hurt. “Kiyone, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Hand against her chest, Kiyone blinked back tears. “What’s going on? What’s happening to me?”
Mechanically, Sasami pointed behind Kiyone, to which Kiyone felt she had no choice but to turn and look. Trembling, quaking with splinters of swiveling displeasure and fright, Kiyone turned, afraid of what she’d see. When her gaze met with what Sasami was pointing to, her mouth went dry, and she felt tears beginning to streak down the smooth contours of her face. “No… no it… it can’t…”
Above the telephone, the bronze faceted portrait hung as delicately as it always did. The picture remained as undisturbed as the day she had hung it. Within the picture, Ryoma stood grinning at the camera broadly, his blond wavy hair a mess in the wind. Standing next to him with a shy smile on her face, holding his hand while supporting a large sunhat with the other: was Sasami. She was older, and bared an uncanny likeness to that of Tsunami. She must have been in her early twenties.
But that was just wrong. It should’ve been
US
in the picture. There shouldn’t be her. There shouldn’t of been anything other than what was supposed to be there.
A sharp click resonated through the air, indicating that the answering machine was now playing back some form of message. Looking down at the phone, Kiyone felt hot tears staining her face. She whimpered, not bothering to wipe them away, staring at the black phone. “No one’s there…”
The message began to playback. “Hi, Ryoma honey,” It was Martha, unmistakably. “After you lose that skank girlfriend of yours, gimme a shout, ‘kay? We’ll have a great time. Here, let’s see… you can get ahold’a me on my pager. Umm… I’ve got it here… ah, here we go. Get ahold of my colony with the area code, first. My number is six-seven-four, one-nine-four-eight.”
Memory poured into Kiyone’s mind. A number that was her own.
“Okay, then, Ryoma honey. Talk to ya later.”
The answering machine shut off.
It all crashed in on Kiyone at once. The loneliness, the fear of the dark, the unrelenting persistence of Sasami, and the doubt that had commiserated everything that she was. All of it spilled over the top like boiling water, scalding her, leaving scars that ran far beneath the surface that would never heal.
Kiyone was crying. “He was supposed to be HERE!!!”
Sasami sniffled. “I’m so sorry, Kiyone.”
Every semblance of sanity left Kiyone in that fateful moment, and she knew nothing other than run. Without even thinking, Kiyone bolted up the stairs to her room, trying to run away from everything, hoping that she could leave it all far behind. Someone discard the memories of what her life had become, and start all over again in one systematic burst of petulant fright.
The walls of the hallway seemed to bend and shift as if she was running through a teetering world, razors and shattered glass poised to cut her into pieces. She was searching for him frantically, purposefully forgetting that she had already looked all over the house. She had to find him, find him and make it all go away. He was the anchor that kept her away from the darkness, from the worry, from Sasami.
She just wanted to be with him.
You wish that Ryoma was partying with you, don’t you?
Kiyone threw the door open to her room, only to be met with the sympathetic features of Sasami. The young girl met Kiyone’s eyes, and tried to express how much she knew what Kiyone was going through. “I’m really sorry, Kiyone. Honest.”
Shaking her head, Kiyone marched past Sasami over towards the dresser. She was having a difficult time seeing through the haze of her own tears, but she knew where she was heading. Stopping in front of the dresser, Kiyone wiped her eyes, her face irritated red from crying. Sniffling, she picked up the ring box once again, as Sasami watched her from the center of the room. Kiyone, forcing resolve into her tattered psyche, opened the box.
The ring was still gone.
A faint image caught her eye. She looked up to see a black and white photograph on the dresser stand, one that she hadn’t noticed before. In the photo, which was obviously very recent, was Sasami again and Ryoma. Ryoma’s hair was pitch black and spiked, and he had his arm draped over the older Sasami as they sat lazily on a boat in the middle of a lake. Kiyone’s eyes widened as she noticed on Sasami’s finger in the photo, was the ring that was supposed to be in the box she was holding.
The silence was shattered as the phone began to ring downstairs.
The jarring noise snapped Kiyone back into reality, and she fell to her knees, crying. She clutched desperately at the velvet box, trying to hold on to whatever scrap of sanity she still possessed. Sasami continued to watch Kiyone, her expression of empathetic sorrow never wavering. The phone rang a few more times, cutting the silence further, until the answering machine finally kicked in. A faint gesture of voice lilted through the home as Kiyone could barely hear the person speaking on the other end of the line as they recorded their message.
“Hey, honey,” Ryoma’s rich, creamy voice spoke.
Kiyone cried out as if she had been stabbed.
“Sorry, but I’m gonna be a bit late. Don’t worry, though – I’ll be right on time for dinner, you’ll see. Hell, I’ll even bring the wine. Promise. Work’s been a bitch, today, I’m afraid. Well, anyways, hope patrol wasn’t too rough on ya. I’ll see ya tonight. Love you.”
A long resounding beep resonated through the hallway, effectively cutting off the elegy of sound, bathing the house again in the requiem of silence. Kiyone threw the box aside, and curled herself into a fetal position, and cried as hard as she could. “What’s happening to me? Why… why is… th… this… no…”
Sasami walked over to Kiyone, and knelt down next to her. She placed her hand on Kiyone’s shoulder, trying to comfort the utterly shattered woman. “Because you don’t exist, Kiyone.”
Kiyone’s cries slowed enough to register what had been said to her, and she faced Sasami. “What?”
Sasami nodded in cognizant honesty. “I know I’m at fault for all of this, and I’m really sorry. I didn’t want this to happen, but I was only just watching. I’m sorry, Kiyone.”
Kiyone bit her lip, tasting the salty essence of her own tears. “Please, Sasami… make it all go away. Please.”
Pausing for a moment, Sasami smiled. “Okay, Kiyone. Do you really want it to go away?”
Sniffling, Kiyone nodded. “Please… I don’t want this…”
Drawing a deep breath, as if she was conflicted, Sasami came to a conclusion. She hugged Kiyone tight for a long moment, trying to savor the feel of actual contact. When she pulled back, she looked at Kiyone with an almost disturbingly serene face. “Alright, then, Kiyone. If you want to make it all go away, you’ll have to pull the trigger.”
Kiyone blinked, and suddenly found that she had a gun in her hands. She lifted the gun up to look at it. It wasn’t a Galaxy Police blaster, it was a handgun that was found on Earth. A long metallic barrel with a simple trigger and a hammer. Six bullets were in the gun, and Kiyone suddenly felt more powerful than she had in her entire life. She found that holding the gun in her hand like this, everything was suddenly in her control. She was no longer being strung around by others to be manipulated to their ends – total dominion was hers. Nothing could stop her with the gun.
Sasami smiled, nodding. “That’s right, Kiyone. Just kill me, and then it’ll all go away.”
Kiyone blinked slowly, trying to maintain her tenuous grip on whatever scraps of humanity she still had. “Sasami… no, I can’t kill you. You’re just a child… I… I can’t do that! I can’t do that!”
“Yes, you can,” Sasami insisted. Her eyes were suddenly stern, as if this was the most important thing in the world. “If you don’t exist, and I’m you, then I don’t exist either, right?”
Kiyone
shook her head frantically, trying to push Sasami away. “No!
I can’t kill you! I won’t!
Sasami’s hands fell on Kiyone’s hand that held the gun. Her hand
was trembling, but Sasami’s hands were soft, warm, and steady. Kiyone
shivered at the contrasting touch, and looked at Sasami in the eyes, feeling
violently ill. Sasami maneuvered Kiyone’s almost limp grip so that
the gun was pointing at Sasami’s face, never breaking eye contact with
Kiyone. “You can do it, Kiyone. It’ll take everything away.
I promise.”
She never really did have much of an option in life, anyways. All the times that she had put faith in another simply led to her own self-doubt and merciless obsessions eating her alive. Kiyone had perpetuated herself into a career for which there was no chance of success. The scars from all the beatings she had received as a child had healed, but ran so far beneath the surface that they poisoned her from the inside out. She delved into escapism, and found, after all her searching; there was no exit.
Until now.
Timidly, Kiyone’s thumb pressed against the hammer, pulling it back, and moving the bullet into place at the forefront of the barrel. Two sharp clicks accentuated Kiyone’s whimpers, while Sasami gazed serenely at her ultimate fate. Kiyone and Sasami’s eyes never left one another, and it was then that they both knew what it was that had to happen. This was the exit. This was what they had to do in order to finally exist.
Slowly, Sasami leaned forward, opening her mouth, and placed the gun in between her lips, before closing them around the cold steel. Kiyone’s hand continued to tremble, dull clacks resounding as the barrel jittered against Sasami’s teeth, caught inside the small girl’s mouth. Their eyes never left one another. Resolve burned in both of their essences, and finally, the supremacy returned. This was all the power that they ever had been granted – all the power that they ever would be granted – burning inside both of their essences like saffron fire.
It was time.
Kiyone’s finger dropped onto the trigger, and Sasami gave a small nod. Kiyone began to squeeze, and another tear fell down her face, existence finally dawning upon her at long last.
Sasami shut her eyes.
Kiyone pulled the trigger.