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Silver Millennium Soldier
-21- Ordinary People
by
Mike Macdonald
(Age: 27)
copyright 12-10-2006
Age Rating: 18 to 127
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The young princess couldn't breathe. All she could do was stand there, frozen, with her eyes wide and her heart hammering inside her chest. He was so perfect--tall and handsome, a purposeful gait, and, oh, the warmest eyes in three worlds--and here he knelt before her, so many inches from her face, with her delicate hand cradled in his own. And all she could do was stand there and stare like a fool.
The royal families of Gaea, the Sylvan Kingdom, and the Black Moon Kingdom were dispersing beyond him, their congregations laughing and jabbering together like best friends; moments ago the kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, princes and princesses had joined hands in one large circle, and made vows of peace betwixt three societies in the hopes that one day they would become one. She had paid little attention, herself, preferring to watch the noble Prince Endymion, who now scared her witless with his presence.
"Now I decree," Her Majesty, Queen Serenity said, "as the queen of this land, that we all get to celebrating in the ballroom. The wine shan’t drink itself."
Everyone laughed as they crossed the royal garden toward the palace doors. The princess, herself, could not move.
"Such bright, wandering eyes," Endymion cooed. "May I know the name of their owner?"
Mother nudged the mortified child with her knee, and her voice returned to her.
"Beryl, M’Lord," she said. "Third Princess of the House of Metallia."
The prince lowered his head.
"Prince Endymion of Gaea. ‘Tis an honor to make your acquaintance, Milady."
With a flick of his wrist, a dark red rose instantly blossomed from his palm, and pulled a surprised squeal from the princess.
"Allow me to present my new ally with a gift," he said. "To match her own radiance."
"You had better accept the Prince of Gaea’s offering, Beryl, Dear," Mother said, gently placing her hands upon her shoulders. "With the new truce in play, you may come to marry him someday."
Beryl accepted the rose and smelled it. Her golden eyes shimmered with delight and her fair white skin blushed to match its petals.
"Thank you, M'Lord," she said. "Whenever I see a rose I shall think of you."
Prince Endymion bowed humbly again before rejoining his own family on their way to the palace. Beryl watched him as she and her mother followed the rest, her heart pounding so furiously it threw her off-balance and she could hardly walk straight.
"Her eyes would not stop following me," she heard the prince say to a fellow knight ahead of her. "I felt it would make her smile, and it did. No harm in it."
The biting cold of the nether-realm woke Beryl from her meditation. The beautiful garden was gone; a plane of crystallized nightmares now took its place in a rather unpleasant contrast. Malachite stood before her, awaiting her words. He never spoke out of turn in her presence, even when she was little. She nodded to him, and he bowed.
"Forgive me if I have disturbed you, Your Grace," he said.
"You haven’t, Malachite. I am merely revisiting old memories. What news have you from outside?"
"Your Grace," Malachite said, taking on a grave tone, "Colonel Jedite has perished in his attempt to slay the Sylvan Guardians. The Hesperides still search for his remains."
Beryl waved her hand dismissively. "Tell them not to bother."
Malachite bowed again. "Very well. Shall I cancel his remaining operation, then?"
The Queen rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply, taking a moment or two to let the magnitude of her failure digest. The frigid air molested her skin again; the thing was summoning her, and it was angry.
She felt sick to her stomach.
"No," she said finally. "Keep it on standby for now. It has become painfully clear to me that we were too ill-prepared for our resurgence. Covertness alone will no longer suffice. The gods know how long it will take to recover from this loss…"
"Then we must take that time to strengthen our forces," Malachite said. "Our only shortcoming was underestimating the Sylvan Guardians. I shall see to it that when we recover, no mythril covey of birds will hinder us."
"Make it so," Beryl said, cuing the general's departure with a wave of her hand. "Leave me now in peace."
With a third and final bow, Malachite pivoted on his heels and marched swiftly out of the throne room.
The cold bit Beryl's flesh yet again. Swallowing hard, her hands shaking, the dark queen slowly rose and approached the glimmering window into the Void, too frightened to imagine what kind of torment the shadow creature would subject her to.
She stood before the sea of shadows and waited.
****************************
"The hell did you do to yourself, anyway?" Lita said.
Sprawled face-first across his sofa with three ice bags sitting in a heap on his lower back, Darien Shields was a pitiful sight, indeed, looking as though he'd been rolled up in a carpet and swatted against a tree for four hours straight. His face was cut and bruised under his left eye, and enduring a mean-spirited iodine treatment from the tall, self-proclaimed nurse sitting on the floor next to him. She'd called him from a pay phone to invite him out for lunch with the crew, and on the first mention of his accident she was at his door with a bag of medicine.
"I fell down the stairs," Darien said. "Taking the garbage out."
"Clumsy oaf," Lita said, dabbing an iodine-soaked cloth on his cheek again.
He made a sound like a hamster in pain and swatted her hand away. She slapped him on the head with a laugh and dabbed it again.
"That hurt?" she said.
"Yes, it hurts!"
She dabbed the cut once more, then planted a kiss on his forehead and smiled.
"Thanks, Lita," Darien said. "I mean it."
"You lie there and rest. Long as I'm here, I'ma do a little housekeeping. Looks like this place could use it somethin' fierce."
She patted him on the rump, stood again and went into the kitchen. A sticky, plastic sound, then glass bottles clinking together.
"Don’t you dare raid my fridge," he said.
"Come and kick my ass, Gimp."
She drained half a bottle of Corona with two swigs right where he could see her before plopping it on top of the microwave. Then, surface cleaner bottle and paper towels in hand, Lita began a systematic wipe-down of the kitchen while humming a J-pop tune to herself, though by no means beyond sharing the tune with the rest of the apartment complex. Darien hadn't seen her in this good a mood since they first met; she just went on tidying up the apartment for him, singing as if she'd just won the lottery. Definitely the strangest girl he ever knew. He shook his head and closed his eyes with a sigh.
There was no sign of the goddess. No malicious shadows or demons, or old-timey European cities. No fancy dress. Just a sense of tranquility and, oddly, contentment. Whatever happened during his most recent episode, something was apparently resolved, and his bizarre curse lifted.
In two seconds, Darien Shields slipped into the most peaceful, dreamless sleep he'd had in months.
**********************************
"They're better off not remembering."
The harbor was in plain view now, only a hundred meters out and closing. The heat on the ship had been almost unbearable, but by nature's good grace the wind was active throughout the entire trip and fanned the passengers morning, noon, and night with its breath. And by the ship designer's good grace, there was a large swimming pool topside. And by whoever else's good grace, not a soul on the ship disliked music, so Mina never found herself in boredom's company on that voyage. The last cruise she played on was too lethargic to care about anything beyond eating and letting their children wreak havoc everywhere.
Not a cloud was in the sky, just like the rest of the trip. No wonder it'd been so hot. The sun was making its way down toward the shore, streaking the horizon red and pink. Mina sighed and leaned against the upper deck's rails as the wind stroked and brushed her hair like a close girlhood friend. It caressed her neck and shoulders under the collar of her blouse and eased the tension growing in her stomach as she watched the harbor draw ever nearer.
She was alone on deck apart from an old couple admiring the view at the front of the ship, and the white cat sitting on the chair at her side. She didn't have to look to know he was watching her.
"Are you sure?" he said.
"Wouldn't have done it if I didn't think so," Mina said. "Tough times are over. They'll just be friends who met under odd circumstances from now on. Until something else comes up, God forbid. They'll remember when they're ready."
She sighed again. The people busying about the harbor were like little bugs. Not a trait discernable among them yet.
"Something's troubling you," Artemis said.
Mina's gaze dropped from the harbor into the churning blue slapping the side of the ship. She sighed again to see if there was anything alive inside her. Nothing but an echo. An empty jug.
"I suppose I'm disappointed that I survived after all," she said.
She felt the twang inside Artemis's chest and glanced over at him. His eyes had that odd human look about them again. He could never stand seeing her unhappy, the sweet little thing. It tortured him.
"Maybe it's better that you did," he said. "Like you said, the trouble's past for now. Why not celebrate by enjoying a normal life? One full of music and dancing and exotic locales and charming the socks off of eligible bachelors."
A small smile crossed Mina's lips and she picked up the cat, kissing him gingerly on the nose.
"Artemis," she said, "my heart could never belong to anyone else. If only you were human instead of a mangy cat."
She set him back on the chair and scratched under his chin.
"But," she added, "I gather you've got someone back home who's eager to patch things up with you."
Artemis laughed. "For what it's worth, I did love traveling around Europe."
The ship was pulling into port. Now that the bugs had grown into people, she could discern faces amongst them. Her eyes jumped from face to face, her heart catching in her throat with each one they met. No sign of her yet.
"How long has it been?" Artemis said.
Mina's eyes ceased their wandering when they came upon the figure of a thin woman with white hair, tied into a bun beneath a large-brimmed summer hat, a pink bow dangling from one side and swaying lazily in the wind. She was looking directly at Mina, and the moment their eyes met, the woman froze and put one hand over her heart, her mouth hanging half-open.
Mina's expression never changed, but the sight of the hat, and the gentle, wrinkled face beneath it, awoke something inside her chest that quaked up her throat and swelled behind her eyes. A face she hadn't given a thought to since she arrived in America, that she hadn't physically seen in front of her since the image of her dead father was branded on her memory.
"Long enough," Mina said.
"Well, don't keep her waiting, then," Artemis said as he leapt off the chair.
Mina carried her bags off the ship, turning around when she stepped onto the pier for one last look at her only friend in the world, discovering he had already vanished inside. Her heart ached, but she smiled; Artemis hated goodbyes. She could envision him sleeping in a secluded corner of the ship, curled into a miserable little ball, and she blew him a kiss knowing he would feel it later.
The woman stood at the end of the pier, too timid to make the first move. Bags in hand, Mina approached her with the calmest disposition she could manage as a storm began to stir inside her chest. The woman grew even more nervous and straightened her skirt. When they only had ten feet between them, Mina stopped and set her bags down, and the pair looked at one another without saying a word. The woman's lips began to curl into a weak smile.
"Salut, Mina," she said, her voice cracking.
Nine years. It had been nine years since Mina last heard that voice. As a tear rolled down her cheek, the pianist finally smiled and let out a sob and a laugh at the same time. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the woman's neck, kissing her on the cheek and laughing with her like she never thought she would ever laugh again.
"Salut, Mama," she said. "Je suis retourné."
****************************
Laughter never graced the Hikawa Shrine outside of the holidays, so Rei immediately knew something was wrong when she heard giggling and tittering in the bathroom, of all places. The real shock was sliding the door open and, after being greeted by the oddly out-of-place scent of jasmine, discovering a blue-haired artist and a noisy blonde lounging in a hot bath, laughing and chatting about every little thing. Even worse was how they smiled and greeted her as if she were just another member at a local health club. They weren't even phased by her scowl or her dramatic entrance shouting, "What are you two doing in here?" in her native tongue.
"Appreciating your grandma’s hospitality," Serena said, clasping her hands together on the water's surface and squirting Amy in the face. "I barely even mention my sore back, and she just tells us to hop in! Japanese Jacuzzis are weird, though. They don’t bubble."
"It’s a bathtub," Rei said. "We had a heater built into it to keep it hot."
"I told you," Amy said, cocking her eyebrow at Serena.
Serena squirted her again. "Lemme get you a plaque when we get home."
"Can you make that soon?" Rei said, picking up their scattered clothes and flopping them on the toilet seat, "I’d just love some privacy."
"To hell with privacy," Serena said, "or wherever evil Japanese people go when they die. Hop in and join us! Be social! Be a girl and stuff. Have girl talk."
Now Rei cocked her eyebrow. "About what?"
"Movies, music, clothes, boys…What, you don’t talk about that stuff with your friends?"
"I have no real use for such trivial things," the miko said indignantly, folding her arms. "It is important to look presentable, but I don’t obsess over my wardrobe like a juvenile pop star."
Serena squirted Rei with water and got a funny Japanese exclamation out of her.
"You’re really no fun at all," she said.
"You’re breakin’ my heart," Rei said. "Out."
"There's gotta be something you're into that we could all talk about," Amy said.
Rei rolled her eyes. "I like lots of things neither of you would take interest in. Like the bimbo said, I’m really no fun at all."
Serena squirted the miko again.
"Where’s your grandma at? I liked her better."
"Stop doing that!"
"Stop making those funny noises! You're like a dog toy. It just encourages me."
Rei grabbed a nearby towel and threw it into the blonde's face, and began to insist on her departure when she finally noticed the metal tray next to the tub. It carried a fine set of Japanese teacups, supervised by a stout, steaming kettle shrouded with the scent of jasmine flowers. So here was the culprit that sweetened the flavor of the air.
After taking a full minute to comprehend the kettle's existence, Rei said, "She brought you tea in the bathroom?"
"There's an extra cup if you want some," Amy said.
Serena squirted Amy again. "She’s making dinner right now. It smells sooo good. Way better than the food at school-"
"She’s cooking dinner for you?!" Rei cried. "Does she know we’re in America?"
A gruff sound startled the miko as Grandma Hino came into the bathroom with a pair of neatly folded yukatas, setting them on the edge of the bathroom counter. She didn't make eye contact with anybody as she spoke, like she was talking to ghosts while going about her daily chores.
"I tell you how important is to make good impression of our family," Grandma said, and then added with a smile, "Especially to any friends of Chibi-chan."
"Grandma, they’re not my friends!" Rei whined, and received a smack to the head as Grandma walked back out.
"Because you have no friends. You are stupid girl. You make these two your friends, and I keep them coming back to see you. Chibi-chan maybe spend less time alone. Oh-kay?"
Grandma Hino was on her way back down the hall before Rei could say anything further. She cursed under her breath and held her head.
"Damn crazy woman…"
She propped her hands on her hips and looked back at the two girls in the tub; they were watching the miko with a curious stare like they'd just learned she wore leather underwear.
"What?" she snapped.
"Why does your Grandma call you Chibi-chan?" Amy asked as Serena hit her with another volley.
"Would you just get out of there?" Rei said.
Serena squirted her again. Dejected by her failed attempts to learn anything about the grumpy Asian, Amy sighed.
"I’m turning into a raisin, anyway…"
"Spoil sports," Serena muttered, and squealed as a wrinkly foot rose out of the water and pawed at her face.
"Want a raisin?" Amy laughed.
"Ew! Stop that! No!"
"C'mon, let’s go help Grandma in the kitchen," Rei said, tossing the girls their yukatas. "As long as I'm stuck with you for the evening."
Serena and Amy dried themselves off and tied the eveningwear on with the ease of genuine Japanese natives.
"Lead the way, Rei-chan," Serena said.
Rei stopped and looked back at the blonde with a furrowed brow. Without breaking eye contact, Serena stood waiting for her hostess to say something in response, tying her hair into a bun on the back of her head with a pair of chopsticks. Amy stood close behind, looking back and forth between the two girls, wondering if any blows would be exchanged. Indeed, Rei's nerves twisted so under her skin and in her temples that just looking at the smart-aleck blonde's face was enough to make her want to slap it. Her wrist even twitched in anticipation.
She really was the first person in eighteen years who ever called her Rei-chan.
Shaking her head with a sigh, Rei turned back toward the kitchen and gestured for her friends to follow. The smell of miso and rice now permeated through the hallway, summoning the three girls to its delightful source; it was the smell of the most pleasant meal the three of them would probably ever taste.
The shrine was graced with a lot of laughter that evening.
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