a Gravitation fic by
'Souls are strange beings. The move where they will and are yet confined
within the contours of the body. Greeks thought the body the temple of the
soul, where it dwelt freely. During the middle ages, it was thought that
the body was the prison of the soul. It is hard to tell which is correct,
in this day in age, though it seems to be elements of both. Yet when
bouncing around on the pinball board of life and existence, certain souls
find and attract others. There is no pattern in these kindred souls,
perhaps they belong to man and woman, man and man, woman and woman, human
and animal; each attraction and bonding is a special thing. In strange
instances when a group of souls are brought together by one...
It is called Gravitation.'
Chapter I - This is My Box
I Never Travel Without It
The sharp sound of black stilleto heels echoed in the hall within the
majestic, yet somehow unflattering corporate builting of SoundSoft Tokyo.
They clacked along indignantly, sometimes faltering, as if the wearer
carried an unimaginibly heavy weight upon her shoulders. Cross mutterings
followed the sound of the heels like a piece of metal infallibly drawn to a
magnet in a trail that could have easily been picked up by anyone looking
for the sort of inane mutterings only one who has just become put out
utters. Only an ant could have detected the subtle differences in the
rhythm of the pounding footwear to gather the knowledge that though the
wearer was quite irate, there was a bit of freedom in their feet. However,
such knowledge is useless to an ant, and no one would listen to one given
Yamishika Hikari emerged from the building that was a symbol of the
company that had been her support, her backbone, and her encouragement for
almost half a year; she felt absolutely no remorse in doing so. In fact,
she felt freer than she had in ages. The worn strap connecting her
shoulder to a loved and worn piece of metal and plastic squeaked
encouragingly, though it, as always, had nothing much to say. She paid it
no heed but for a loving pat, and continued her walk to the street just in
front. If she was lucky she would get a cab, and if she weren't, she would
continue to wait until she was lucky, for walking long blocks home with
one's shoulder attached to a piece of metal and plastic is not the most
Abandoning the unshapely burden was out of the question, however, for
like the lump of ugly rock which holds a beautiful quartz, her burden was a
precious one. Within the unweildy box which held only the vague shape of
the wonder encased in it lay Hikari's most important thing that she could
remember; her specially crafted jewel, her wooden cello.
In fact, the reason Hikari was in the SoundSoft building at all, for
it was indeed one of the more well known labels in Japan, was because of
her cello and her music. Maybe she didn't have as much of a rabid
following as any one of the new J-pop and rock bands, say Bad Luck, but she
was pretty popular if she did say so myself; and it happened that she did
say so. It was SoundSoft that had taken her in and re-mixed her into
something the public would eat, even if they had to be spoonfed. Since she
was something new, they didn't even have to be spoonfed. Everyone knew
about her, even if they didn't happen to like her at all, and it was all
the doing of SoundSoft.
That was what stuck in her throat, and wouldn't go away. Something
about the SoundSoft 'family' just wasn't what she wanted. Sure the
promotion was nice, and she was doing fairly well, but something was still
off colour; sort of a sickly hue.
"Yamishika-san is doing well enough," they had said, as she passed by
the president's office on her way out one day, "but we're afraid that if
we don't convince her to get something besides that acoustic cello she's
always using, sales will go down. Sure she's good, maybe even gifted. She
can make you feel things with that cello, sure enough, but so many solo
albums of piece after piece gets monotonous after a while. It's not
showing now, but I fear for the future." Soon after, she bought her first
six stringed electric cello. It was a beautiful and shiny ebony cello,
and she named it Tsuki and had it inlaid in silver on the back in romanji,
because it looked more graceful at the time. Going a little farther, she
had a crescent moon done on the front, just for the namesake.
The company never suspected that Hikari had heard them speaking, and
were quite surprised when she showed them the addition. She produced a new
array of songs within months, and buisness was doing well. However after a
few weeks they stopped recognizing her, so she assumed they still weren't
happy, and then proved they weren't today, when she passed the office
"Yamashika-san's ratings are doing well now, but I think we're
scheduling too much for her. Yamashika Hikari may be one of SoundSoft's
hits, but she's a girl; and she's a soloist. How much longer do you think
she can keep this up?" Three and a half seconds later, Yamashika Hikari
severed her contract, and departed the monolithic building forever. For
the first time, she was feeling free again.
'Of course the press'd be all over me, but I could handle it. The
million yen question now was... How am I going to support myself?' she
thought to herself, the syncopated rhythm of her awkward heels (for show
only,) was creating another percussive song in her head. She'd just moved
out of her old apartment, and had been staying at a hotel downtown, and
was pretty sure that she wouldn't be able to afford anything else, what
with the bills on Tsuki still coming. Shaking her head clear of cobwebs
and the spiders that went with them, she looked up as a cab turned the
corner. Ah, she still had it; lucky until the end.
She asked the driver where she should set her burden; the reply being
the obvious, the trunk. She sighed, and nestled her cello back there
carefully, before returning to her seat in the back of the cab, and
directing the driver to where she had wanted to go. The drive was
uneventful, and before she knew it, she was humming again, making up yet
another piece for a company she no longer belonged to. Pressing her face
close to the window, she breathed a cloud of air on the surface, and began
doodling in hiragana all over the cloud it left. The weather was beginning
to turn cold, and her breath made a suitable writing surface.
The vehicle stopped on the street, and with apologies to the driver
for the window, Hikari left the cab. The cab pulled away, and she turned
to look at the drab hotel where she was staying and made a face. Five
seconds later, she made another face, not so pleasant as the first.
"Oh, Kami-sama!" was the cry, as the cellist scrabbled in her oh-so-
awkward heels to glance at the retreating cab which still contained her
cello. Kicking off her shoes without a second thought, she snatched them
off the ground and set off at a dead run, trying to catch the cab.
Block after block of feet pounding against the cold sidewalk did no
wonders for her feet, and before long she decided that it was useless. She
slumped against the wall nearest to her, stared after the damn cab that'd
taken her case, and looked generally pathetic; which was one of the only
options left for her after this escapade. She managed enough of a smirk to
laugh at herself, for this really was a wonderful situation. It looked
like, in spite of catching a cab, she would have to walk home.
Yuki Eiri was in trouble. He could vaguely recall Shuichi's inane
ramblings up to the point where he had given up on his lover's sanity and
had fallen asleep again. The last few words he could remember before
finding the pillows a comfortable place for his tortured ears were,
'Remember to come home early, Yuki, because-.' Because? So here he was,
driving back early because Shuichi had undoubtedly planned something. If
he missed it, he would be knee deep in tears, and everything would be
waterlogged; not a fun way to spend the afternoon.
He was just passing a group of buildings a few blocks away from his
destination when he caught sight of his sister, leaning against a wall with
an unusual smirk plastered onto her face. One of his eyebrows raised of
its own accord, and he vaguely wondered if he should stop and see what was
wrong with her. With that look she must certainly have cracked. Of
course, he'd never seen Mika in a black trenchcoat either... and was she
holding her shoes? That was the final straw; maybe he could pick her up
and drop her off at the mental institution on his way, and just hope
fervently that Shuichi had tripped over something large that would hamper
She looked up when the car stopped, wondering what the purpose was;
becoming quite surprised when that writer stepped out. Of course things
soon got much stranger.
Mika. What are you doing." he said, slowly. Somehow, Hikari could
almost feel the backward pulling of the words, as if the one saying them
had them attached to a rubberband, and they had to fight to get out and
"I'm afraid you've mistaken me. I'm not Mika." Wondering if she
looked like this 'Mika,' she crossed her arms over her chest, and realized
with a slight twinge of embarassment that she was still carring her shoes;
she made no move to put them back on, even though her feet were getting
quite cold. She then was the proud owner of a look that one receives when
the owner is about to give up the chase. Privately wondering if she had
indeed taken leave of her senses, Yuki looked at his watch, breathed out a
sigh of resignation, and then calmly stated that he had no time for this
sort of thing, and that if she'd just get in the car things would be much
Hikari sighed, privately wondering if he had taken leave of his
senses, before deciding that she could make this into a piece of good
fortune if she tried. Maybe after convincing him that she wasn't Mika, she
could get him to give her a ride to the cab company so she could get her
cello back. So she got in the car; the inside was almost as sleek as the
outside, if that was possible.
"Who are you then." Came the question, breaking the silence with a
bat similar to ones used to accidentally smash in respectable people's
windows. Hikari looked over to the driver, then down at her feet, which
incidentally were still not wearing shoes, and then forward again.
"My name is Yamishika Hikari. I've left my cello in the trunk of a
cab, and I'm not wearing shoes because I hate heels, and it is not possible
to chase cabs while wearing these death traps. I don't know if I look like
'Mika'," Yuki took this opportunity to scrutinize the woman who he had
just picked off the street, and with a mental wince he realized that it was
not his sister who he had picked up. Granted, she did look very similar,
but she had more of a wide-eyed quality than the materialistic Mika, and
she was definitely smaller; he cursed his luck, which was undoubetedly
taking a turn for the worse if that was possible, for not noticing sooner,
and realized she was speaking again. "or not, but since I'm already in the
car, would it be possible for you to give me a ride to the cab company so
that I could retreive my cello, please?" Closing his eyes for a split
second, Yuki worked out the time frame in his head, and decided that he was
already late enough, he didn't need this sort of thing right now.
"No." Was the simple answer, which always seemed to deflate people.
Hikari shrugged, and sat back. However, the thoughts were running like
mice behind her eyes, which made it quite easy to see that she was
contemplating something. She looked out of the window as the car began to
"Where am I going then?" She asked, raising an eyebrow as he parked
the car outside the place he shared with Shuichi. Wonderful, Yuki thought,
this day is not going at all how I had planned. The plan had been to sit
somewhere quiet, and write. These deadlines were giving his already
hairline temper split ends. He resigned himself to his fate, watched the
firing squad come into position, refused the blindfold and lit a cigarette.
"Come up and have some tea." He tried to make it sound as if the
entire event had been planned from the start, and sighed resignedly as the
young woman closed the car door and walked up the path behind him, still
Notes: First chapter up, Yatta! No notes yet, because nothing much has
It's only rated Romance/Angst because it will be, overall. ^_^;
Just getting warmed up.
Minna-san, review, Onegai?
Flames will be used to roast marshmellows for the starving cast and
All the characters are copyright of Maki Murakami, as is the series
as a whole (please don't sue me, I'm so poor I have to use flames to
eat. ;.;), except for Kari-chan, who is mine. You're welcome to use
her (Who would want to?) if you'd like *cough* just tell me beforehand,
because I want to read whatever happens to have her in it.
The moral of the story is, there are no morals.