Digimon Fan Fiction / Utena, Revolutionary Girl Fan Fiction / X/1999 Fan Fiction ❯ Blindness & Anarchy ❯ Blindness & Anarchy 05 ( Chapter 5 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

SEMI-SERIOUS NOTE - Is there yuri? I dunno... The situation seemed to blare it out, so... A forewarning...



BLINDNESS & ANARCHY

written by K-chan



Les Cristallines, one of the most popular and expensive French restaurants to grace Tokyo, and the place that she loved to dine every once and a while when her financial account allowed her to ravish haughtily. However, that night seemed quite suspicious, receiving a sudden invitation from the elegant woman across from her.

Her extravagant style was of the upper class and pure European influenced with the black, silky evening gown that clung to her body with obsession, although her naturally lavender hair was in a loose braid that draped over her left shoulde, illuminating her carefree spirit. But her violet eyes gleamed with mysterious mischievousness, and her crimson lips curled into a slight smile as she sipped the burgandy wine of the noble Carbernet Savignon.

Any man would find this high-class woman attractive and most of all seductive in her diminutive gestures, like her well-manicured finger nails tapping once on the wine goblet and then slowly caressing it with great care. Whatever her intentions were from the little scene, Mimi had to admit the woman would be a natural on stage. She was bored being in the darkness; there had to a reasonable explanation to sudden have dinner at that certain French restaurant.

"Miss Inoue," she said calmly, "I appreciate this dinner invitation, but please do not consider me as one of your dates. It is very disturbing to see you work your charms on me."

Even her laughter was melodious in one's ears. "Oh Mimi!" Miyako smiled, "Why the formality? You must loosen up, dear." She rest her right elbow on the armrest and shifted her weight onto that arm, staring into the actress's eyes with an unknown challenge. "You're a strong woman, Mimi. I saw that light of determination and passion in you when we first met." She gave another quiet chuckle, "I was tempted to sweep you off to Paris with me!"

Mimi remained unaffected.

"But that was six years ago. You're different now, and that light is not as bright as before." She paused, letting those words settle into the young woman's mind, before continuing, "Let me tell you a story...

"Long ago, out in the countryside, there was a poor, young man who decided that he must journey to the city to make a living to support his ill-stricken parents and his florid, little sisters. He found a lowly, sanitization job in a hotel, and despite the crudness and long hours, he worked hard. He kept just enough money to sustain him while the rest was sent home to his family."

Mimi interrupted with a slight snort, "And then somehow, his hard work payed off, and he was promoted to become manager, married a beautiful woman, had many children... and lived happily ever after, right?"

"No. He was hit by a car a week later and died."

She tensed at the curt ending but manage to keep her voice leveled, "And why are you telling me this story?"

Miyako shrugged, which stirred quite a flame in Mimi, but before the latter could say a word, a bouquet of red roses filled her vision. A deep, loving voice breathed against her ear, "I've missed you."

Mimi looked up and stared wide-eyed at the owner of the voice. "Ta-Takeru," she whispered, slowly blinking the reality, that he was leaning down to her, back into her slow-processing mind at the moment. She put the roses aside and stood up to face him, "What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be back for three more days."

Before he could explain, Miyako stood up, motioning for her departure from the couple, "It was pleasant to entertain you, Mimi." She walked over to the confused woman and took her into a loving embrace. With a soft kiss to her cheek and a mirthful giggle lingering near Mimi's face, she whispered for only her ears, "Don't EVER forget what I've said tonight." She pulled away and turned her eyes on the smiling, blonde man, "My my, Takeru. You're as handsome as ever!" She gave him a quick kiss and bid the couple a farewell without any enigmatic purpose.

Mimi frowned at something creepy she saw in the seductive sway that Miyako purposely left behind, but she was soon lost in the serenity of Takeru's face. She felt his arms wrap around her petite waist and pull her close to him, and she didn't resist, find comfort against his chest. It was in that euphoric reunion that made her realize their petty arguments were nothing, and her unanswered question should just be left untouched like the goblet of volumptuous Pinot Noir.



Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen... The numbers continued to countdown as she stared at the microwave. Her eyes held a sort of void with a hint of flickering life, as if entranced by the numbers, anticipating its end. She inhaled and unknowningly held her breath until the annoying beep of the appliance alerted her to the completion of its purpose. She blinked once.

Twice.

And released the held breath. She had thought the end had truly come. The end where only blackness enveloped her whole self, and she would drift forever in that emptiness, isolated from the reality that did nothing for her.

She saw.

She heard.

She felt.

But she did not truly live.

Her world was a head of lettuce, layers upon layers of tasteless obstacles to the core of existence. She had found that core long ago, shredding through the green leaves like the impatient child on Christmas morning, but disappointment washed over her. The core was so small, so hard, so useless...

Crushed in anger and disappointment, she fled.

She fled across the waters to a strange world that carved a small place for her and nurture her until she could stand again and return to the city that had thrown her aside like a ragged doll. And once again, she was a stranger in another land, but this was the city of her origins.

Nothing was the same again, and even now she was still on her own, but the only comfort she ever held onto was...

A cup of warm milk.

So small, so stupid, but it did its purpose in comforting her every night when she couldn't face her past in guise of haunting dreams. Just a tiny sip of the warm milk eased her mind, and she found herself curling up in the corner of the kitchen with her hands wrapping protectively around the cup, for fear that her last comfort would be ripped from her. Even with the embrace of warmth, her body was shuddering uncontrollably, like a frightened child lost from her parents...

And Sora wept.