This is my first fic so comments would be greatly appreciated. Arigatou.
Disclaimer: None of the characters in FoR belong to me (*sob* I want Mi-chan). I'm just using them so that I can write fanfic and procrastinate the rest of my work. Do not sue me because, at the rate I'm going, I'm never going to get a job anyway.
Her long purple hair danced in the wind. She looked out her balcony and gazed into the setting sun. As though trying to remember…Miasma Through the looking glass
He stared out the classroom window as she walked by. The teacher had just given them a short break, so he had taken to glancing out of the glass panels every now and then.
He saw a lone figure in the open. His thoughts wandered slightly. Probably transiting from one class to another, she walked through the assembly area. Or maybe she was just having a free period or something.
He couldn't have cared less about who the girl was, but her purple hair reminded him of something, a whisper from the past.
She was the only thought on his mind.
The teacher called back the students' attention and continued with the lesson.
As the bell rang, he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder in cool elegance. A bunch of females swooned at the doorway, which was the norm.
He walked out without giving the girls a second glance. How annoying they are.
Just then, the same purple-haired girl he had seen walked by. His eyes followed her movements. There was something so familiar about her.
A cool breeze swept through the corridor, sweeping her purple hair off her shoulders in a gentle caress. He found himself wondering who this girl was.
He swept his own black hair back into place.
The unusual suaveness of his gesture caused the girls around him to swoon some more. This time, aloud.
"Ahh. He's so gorgeous I could just die."
The purple-haired one turned around at the high-pitched commotion. As she flipped her head, her hair bounced up and then fell back to her shoulders with a style befitting a Vidal Sassoon model. What gorgeous hair, he thought.
As she saw who the commotion was over, she gave him a mysterious smile and shook her head. "How typical." She muttered to herself.
He saw her smile and her lips mutter something inaudible. But he could not see the rest of her face on account of the dim lighting. That smile. So familiar…
Oh well, he walked off in the opposite direction.
She smiled at him then walked away.Why had she smiled? He reminded her so much of -
She smiled inwardly thinking of him.
Her smile faded as her amusement turned to confusion.
She ran her fingers through her purple hair, as though trying to recall.
The name of the one he was a reminder of - what was it?
Who was he?
She remembered having a dream and the trouble she got into for it.
"Hey! What's going on?" She herself had awakened from some dream.
"I should be the one asking you that." He was the one speaking.
She had awoken to find herself leaning on him, her head rested on his chest. It was certainly a compromising position, for them both.
"You said something strange in your sleep." He looked straight at her as she quickly pulled away. "You said, 'I wish we could be this way forever.' Who were you talking to?"
She vaguely recalled being made fun of for days after. But she still could not recall. His name. His face. That boy reminded her of him,
As she sat at her dining table, she faced her blonde younger sister. "Hey kid, do you remember…" She let her voice trail off. No, she wouldn't. She had been safely uninvolved then, and surely she would have forgotten.
"Never mind. It's nothing."The dream… A boy and a girl… Somewhere…
Had it been him in her dream? Perhaps it had not, but still, there were things not known, not understood, and she had…
She got up.
Her sister tilted her head quizzically. "Nee-chan?"
"There's some place I need to go." Her lips spoke the words before her mind realised what she was doing.
Some place to go…
So long ago…
A place…She remembered…
But what was it…
She walked out of her house, trying to remember. How long had it been since she had left her past behind? Or had she?
Images floated in her mind.
A boy with a plaster on his face.
A girl with the gift of healing.
There were others too. Her blonde baby sister. A boy with a Rubik's cube.
And then there had been him.
Pain tore through her as she fell to her knees.
Why doth it hurt me so?
Darkness suddenly descended upon her.
"NEE-CHAN!!!" A girl screamed as she ran towards the front door.
Two children played together. A boy with jet-black hair. And a girl with long purple tresses.
"I will always be here." He told her, gazing into her eyes.
They stared at each other for a while, then started laughing.
They would be together,
The dream… from so long ago…
Broken as she heard herself called.
She opened her eyes to find her sister looking down at her.
"Are you okay?" Her voice was filled with concern.
And worry. "Kid? What just happened?"
"You blacked out when you were about to leave. Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry I made you worry so." She felt bad about making the kid so anxious. I'm sorry, "Could you leave me alone for awhile?" but I need some time alone, time to think.
She sat up on her bed. How did I get up here? She couldn't have carried me up.
As her blonde sister headed towards the door, she noticed someone standing in a corner. It was
You know it can't be him. Something at the back of her head was telling her.
No it can't, but why can't it? There was something she should have remembered. But she couldn't quite place a finger on it.
The blonde girl beckoned for him to leave.
"Oh yah, nee-chan, he carried you up to your room after you fainted."
She was slightly confused by the whole incident.
"Oh, arigatou." She said as he walked out silently.
Why had he helped her? They were strangers.
…or were they?
Who _was_ he? She asked herself. But a distant memory, like a whisper in the wind.
Why do I not remember? His face, his countenance.
She watched as he brushed past her.
No one knew his name. He was a mystery to all. So why did she feel like she knew him?
She watched as the tear from her eye fell onto the water, disturbing its smooth surface.
Like a passing breeze, the memory of something swept by her. But as quickly as it came, it left her mind. And all that remained were tears.
He walked away. She reminded him so much of another, and yet
But he knew not, and understood even less.
She peered into the pond, into her own reflection. For a moment, she saw the stranger with the long black hair join her. Then, his image blurred as he reached out to touch the face of her reflection.
She stared as the ripples spread out and the water soon regained its calm surface. Just like someone she knew, except it took more than a person's touch to create a ripple. Him.
"Mizu kagami" She muttered under her breath. Her head bent over the pond, she continued to stare at her own reflection.
He had long since gotten up. Standing behind her, he watched as she bent over and stared at her own reflection.
The water suddenly rippled again.
Why had he been there? She did not know. But he was always around. And he was always at the back of her mind.
Her hair was swept away from her face as she stood there.
I'll wait for you…Forever…
She looked down at the water she was standing above. The water rippled as someone's tears, not her own, fell. And then she found herself falling into the water.
She shut her eyes tightly and then opened them.
She found herself looking into a pond. In it lay not her own reflection, but that of a young girl and boy.
She watched as the boy pushed the girl playfully, then caught her as she fell. She turned to smile at him, before punching him lightly and then running away. He got up to go after her, and ran after her. Then as he caught her, a sad look came over his face as his lips started to move. He had something to tell her.
She wanted to continue watching them, but found herself reaching her hand out to touch them. As they disappeared, she closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she found herself staring at her bedroom ceiling.
And like a breeze it came to her, a whisper from the past.There had been…
Had she made it?
Or had it belonged to someone else?
What a strange dream, she thought.
She was still in her own world when she bumped into someone. Her books fell from her arms and she scrambled to pick them up.
"Gomenasai." That voice, so familiar, but…
She looked up, to see him staring down at her. Wait, no. It wasn't him. She was getting confused. He bent down and started to pick up a book. Of course, there was no use. She grabbed her books before he had a chance to help her. There was just something so eerily familiar about him.
"Sorry, I should have looked where I was going." She got up and walked off without letting him say anything else.
He should not have come. But he was already here. Standing in her room, he watched as she slept. He watched as she tossed and turned uneasily in her sleep. That day, in school, bumping into her, hearing her voice. He had to see her.
He could not bear to see her in such pain.
He touched her cheek lightly before he even realised what he was doing. At which point, he quickly withdrew his hand. He turned to leave, but stopped when he saw what had happened.
She had stopped tossing and turning when he had touched her, but now, tears flowed down her cheek.
She reminded him so much of her. He finally turned to leave.
Under a tree the colour of silver,
He hugged her playfully. She smiled inwardly. For his touch had always brought her comfort.
And then, he was suddenly struck with a premonition.
Something was going to happen.
"I wish we could be this way forever." She had previously told him that her parents planned to leave.
"Things can never be as they," he paused, "were"
She got a shock at the seriousness of his voice, and broke away from his arms. What was once the comfort of being held suddenly became unbearable. It was the pain of holding on to something you knew you could not have. She couldn't understand what he was saying, but it made her fear, though for what, she knew not. She turned to leave. He grabbed her hand. She pulled it back, away from his grasp. He pulled her close to him, then whispered in her ear as he released her hand.
"But I will wait for you." It was a promise. One, that she knew, he would not break. But it mattered not. She knew she could not return.
As she ran into the distance, she felt his beautiful blue eyes watching her, with tears flowing from them. As she ran, she heard the wind carry a voice, his voice.
She turned to watch his image fade away, with the sunset.
She looked up into the dark sky and watched as waves spread out through the black velvet.Why did I run? What did I fear? Change? Fear? Pain?
She felt the wind sweep her away, as she became nothing, one with the night.
She awoke to find herself kneeling at her bedside, hands grasped on something which had not been there before.
A silver branch lay in her hand.
I waited for youBut you never came
Why is it that I cannot remember his face? That the closest image I see of him is that of a stranger. Is that why I find myself falling?
Mizu Kagami. Why?
Words without meaning that race through my mind…
Why? Emotions I don't understand…
For them all…
She ran her fingers through her hair. It was long once before… A voice in her head told her.Long?
But you cut it… Do you remember why? The voice sounded so much like her own. What did she mean?Why?
She didn't want to think about it.
She stared at a knife lying on her table. She picked it up and examined it, then was stabbed by a scene from so long ago:How could he leave me? Doesn't he know?
She picked up the knife and unsheathed it. She grabbed her waist-length hair and drew the knife straight across it. The soft purple strands fell to the ground.
Like the confusion she was feeling, the wind swept through her backyard. The gust picked up the purple mass and they danced in the air as they were carried away.
A lady walked in and started screaming.
She found herself getting up, as though in a miasma.
She felt herself getting up from her bed and walking, no, it was almost as though she was floating. The quality of it all was so dream-like. Compelled to do so, she walked out the door and drifted down a path towards some place.
It all seemed so familiar. Too familiar.
Had she walked down this path before? Suddenly, she saw the ghost of a girl run past her. A child with long hair. Long purple hair. And green eyes.
She turned her head to stare, but the ghost was gone. No, it isn't a ghost. It is, was
Her body continued to move without her conscious command. She was being drawn somewhere, but where?
A path so familiar…
That girl was me…
Like a dream, she found herself somewhere. In the distance, she saw someone standing under
A silver tree.
A man with long black hair. No, she blinked. And saw the ghost of a young boy, as he turned around, with blue eyes. Under the moonlight, there was a haunting reality about everything.
I must be dreaming.
They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, before
She suddenly found it too unbearable. And like the child, she turned to run.
As she turned to run, she felt the wind sweep through her hair. It blew her hair into her face.
The wind swept her waist length hair about wildly as she ran through the streets, returning to shut her eyes tightly to this strange phantasm.
When she finally opened her eyes, she was lying in her bed. She got up and caught an image in the mirror. It should have been her, but in the mirror, a child with waist length purple tresses stared intently at her.
The sadness in the child's eyes struck her painfully as the image returned to her own. As she felt the pain that had remained within her ever since
He rubbed his eyes, then leaned on the silver bark. As he tried to recall what had just happened.
She had come.Or had she?
He tried to remember:
A beautiful purple, shoulder-length-haired lady had appeared. He had seen her but when he looked into her eyes - Those green eyes. He recalled their beauty wistfully. - He had seen her.
Her face echoed in his mind.
The face of a child with waist-length purple hair and green eyes.
Had he really seen her?
It all seemed so unreal.
No, it cannot be.
He tried to put the miasma out of his mind as he walked away from the tree.
He couldn't stop thinking about her. His head was in a mess. And he found himself thinking about the other purple-haired girl as well. The one that he had seen yesterday in that strange miasma of his.
Had he just been seeing things? Or had he actually seen her and thought of her?
He wanted to speak to her, but decided against it. He had long put away his emotions. And he would only reverse that for one person. He could only find the strength to do so for one person. Her. If only because he had made her a promise.
He walked away.
The purple-haired child held her hand out, beckoning her to Come.
They stared into each other's eyes. Green poring into green. Then the child turned to run.
Was she real?
It was all so surreal. She felt like she was floating underwater, staring at the girl. As the girl ran, she felt like the water bubble surrounding her had broken and released its contents. Free from its confines, she ran after the girl. Somehow, she knew.
Deep within her heart, she knew, that the child would lead her to an answer.
As in her miasma, she ran through the same streets, the same paths. Finally, she found herself in the midst of a forest, by a small hill. On the hill was a tree with -
This is the place.
She heard his voice like the murmur of the wind.
I will wait for you…
- A tree with silver bark.
She walked up to the tree and touched the bark, running her hand over its smooth silver. So unsure was she of the whole event's reality.
He had come to wait for her, not that she would ever come. But instead of reaching his destination, someone else had done so before him. He watched the purple-haired child run her fingers over the smooth bark of, he thought angrily, her tree. That tree was his proof that she had, in fact, existed. But, much to his own disgust, he found himself wondering what _her_ caress might fell like. Having her fingers run over his cheek, as hers once had.
She turned to find him staring at her. She was shocked, but instead found herself staring right back into his eyes.
Blue into green.
He felt himself so drawn to her. But, this is not how it should be. He could no longer bare the pain of gazing at what he could not have. He turned to run from her.
Why was he so drawn to her? She was a stranger. But she reminded him so much of her.Why?
Who was he? Was he the one who had made the promise? But, was the girl even her? She could not remember a time when she had such long hair. In fact, she did not even have any photos of herself as a young child.
She stared at the mirror, trying to imagine herself with hair to her waist. The girl appeared once again, staring straight back at her through the looking glass, mouthing the words: help me.
And then, she was gone.
He sat in his room, unable to get her out of his mind.
He had known that she would never return, so why had he waited?
The voice of a young boy whispered to him, "Because I, no, we, promised her."
That binding promise. Had he made a mistake in committing himself to those meaningless words?
A young boy suddenly hugged the girl, then was torn apart by the feeling he had. One of intense sadness, and ominous premonition. He had said goodbye.
Goodbye. Things can never be as they were. He had known then that no thing could come to a good end. Not with him.
But he had given himself one last chance, in a girl with long purple hair. He had made her a promise. And he would keep it, he would learn to live again,
if only she would return…I will always be here…
He opened his eyes, then walked into the next room to pick up his brush. Even if she was not her, he had to paint her. Some how, she had returned to him, even if not in her true form. He could never be as he was until she truly returned, but till then, he decided
He began to paint her.
He began to paint them both.
"Why have I no pictures of myself as a child?"
"Because, there came a day when you screamed and cut off your long hair."
The memory returned to her. So it had been her.
"You seemed haunted by it, so we decided that it was best you not remember."
So it had been real. Everything she had dreamed of. Or were they more than dreams?
She had asked around and found out his address, but she did not know his name yet. It was so strange.
She knocked on his door, then turned the knob. Finding the apartment unlocked, she let herself in.
What a lovely apartment. She thought. The apartment had only a few pieces of furniture and no fancies, but there was an artistic quality that lay in its sparseness.
She walked into the first room she saw. She could not have been thinking logically, for this was not something she would have done before. But confusion leads people to do strange things.
She walked through a bedroom. There were two closed doors within. She headed to the door at the opposite end of the room, instead of the side one.
As she opened the door, she was astounded by what lay there. Paintings. Sculptures. Art materials were lying in an artistic mess, if there was such a thing, around the room.
And then the content of the painting caught her eye. At first, it had just seemed like a beautiful piece of art. But it was more than that to her. A picture of a beautiful silver tree under the light of the moon. It was done completely in dark shades of black and blue, all except for the silver of the tree, the white of the moon, and the startling blue eyes of the child who stood under it. A sad, dark silhouette whose blue eyes held a certain deep regret. It had a haunting, yet beautiful quality to it.He must be the one I dream of. For who else could it be?
A sculpture of a girl with long waist length hair. She was just a child, but the way he had sculpted her, she seemed like a long-lost lover. Eyes that might have belonged to
And then there was the painting. She had found it as she carefully stepped into the deepest end of the room.
A painting of a girl looking into the water, her hand raised out, having just touched its surface. The water rippled faintly, but within it held the distinct image of a child. The former had shoulder-length purple hair. The latter, waist-length purple tresses. Both the exact same shade of purple. Both with identical eyes. Intense green eyes which held a mystery to them. What was the girl feeling? would be the question that struck any viewer's mind.
But she already knew. After all, she was that girl. Are you still waiting? But why?
He had given her his word. Was this artist with the long black hair the child who had made her that promise?
Mirror of water
He stared at her. What was she doing here? He was not ready for her.
As she turned around, their eyes met, and they suddenly recognised each other.
"I never knew your name." She whispered softly, as though afraid that if she spoke too loudly, this fragile image might break.
"Are you real? Are you really her?" He reached his hand up to touch her cheek, as though not believing that she was really in front of him.
And then as she caught sight of his wrist, she realised who he was.
The whole time…
All the allusions…
She had never noticed…
The scar on his wrist. So many years ago.
No one else knew. Only her.
It had been blurred in her memory, by her tears, by her sadness, but she remembered it only too clearly now.
He stood by the river with her.
"I've had enough." He decided.
He picked up the knife and made the cut across his wrist.
She could not believe what was happening. She had never thought it would end this way.
He had looked at her and said something which she had previously forgotten, "Things can never be as they were."
And to the wind he had whispered, something which she had not understood before, "I'm sorry Artemis."
He had let himself fall into the river. And all she had done was watch. In spite of how she had felt, even then.
Perhaps that was why she had not known him when they met. She had tried to push all the hurt and pain out of her consciousness, and along with it had gone everything about him.
But she remembered now.
She took his hand in her own, afraid to let go of him again.
"It was you. All along, it was you, and I never knew." He stared at the purple-haired beauty before him. Had he been so obsessed with the goddess of his childhood that he had not even seen her when they met? She could not have been expected to know him. He had changed, too much.
"Do you even know who I am?"
"You are the angel from my childhood."
"My name is Kirisawa." She deigned to continue. "Or did you forget after" she fingered his scar.
"Kirisawa." He repeated the name. There was something so painful about recalling that name.
It had been so long ago.
What exactly had happened?
He tried to remember.
"Who are you?" He recalled nothing.
She just sighed.
"And why did you call me Mikagami?"
She looked at him. He was most certainly the same person she had known before. Yet he was different as well.
So he did not remember. "Oh, nothing."
"No. It is not _nothing_. Who is he?" He asked suspiciously.
Since he does not recall, perhaps it would be better to allow things to remain. "He's no-one."
"No. I heard the tone in your voice. You love him, don't you?"
His accusation pierced right through her heart. Hearing his voice blaming her hurt so much. She shivered and put her arms around herself in an attempt to keep herself calm. But she could not, did not know how to answer his question.
"I don't know."
He watched as she walked away.
As she had walked out of his apartment, she felt a torrent of emotions sweep over her.
She felt her mind go blank as she fell to the ground.
He heard a crash outside his apartment. When he went to investigate, he saw her lying there.
She had fainted.
He carried her in, then lay her on his bed. He walked away, unsure of what to do. Then he walked back towards her.
Lying on his bed, she looked like an angel, his angel.
The love and passion he had felt for her rushed through him and he suddenly felt an urge to do something.
He looked at the image he had painted.
A girl his own age with long purple hair that fell to her waist was suspended in the air. She lay on a divan of wind, her hair floating in its mysterious power. Like a Greek goddess, she wore a dress of white linen. She looked like an angel in her innocence and beauty, but like a goddess in her allure and aura. On her arm was a rather strange accessory.
He examined it closely. Why did I paint that in?
A white band around her wrist with a connected ring on the figure's index finger. An orb lay within. An orb with the character of wind engraved on it.
Wind. Her element. Her throne.
Wind. Her child:
What were these thoughts rushing into his mind. Without cause, without reason.
He turned away. And caught sight of another painting
Of his angel looking into the water. Staring at the reflection of herself, the reflection that was a child. Staring at her self in a mirror.
A mirror of water
And he realised, that he did
I am Mikagami Tokiya… I am myself
And the child of wind, my angel, Kirisawa Fuuko has returned to me
She awoke, to find herself laid on his bed. What had happened? Her memory was blurred. She vaguely recalled herself falling. She must have fainted.
She sat up in the middle of the bed and was immediately shocked. Right beside her right arm lay a silver branch, but all around her, red roses were scattered on the bed. She got up, and saw a trail of roses leading into his studio. She got up and walked towards it, stopping right in front of the closed door.
She hesitated. She had no idea what she might be getting herself into. She entered the door and caught sight of a painting unfamiliar to her since she had last stepped into his studio.
It was herself, but with waist-length hair. The exquisiteness of a goddess and splendour of an angel fused into one. On her wrist
She caught her breath, for on her wrist was
She had not worn it ever since he had left her.
She felt arms wrap around her from the back. Like so long ago…"I never knew…"
His lips brushed past her ear as her whispered into it.
He remembered. And so did she. And she feared, for the last time he had held her as such, it was to leave her.
But this time it was different.
"You returned to me…"
Actually, I did not. She could not help but think."I waited… As I promised… I would have waited… Forever"
Tears flowed down her cheek as long buried emotions came rushing to the surface, threatening to erupt from her. "Tokiya." She had never called him that before, but it felt right.
She turned around.
And their eyes met again. His arms still around her, they were both plunged into the past as green met blue. Two lonely children on a hill, staring at each other.
And this time, he could not keep it hidden within himself. He pulled her closer to him to give her a kiss that had come ten years too late.
She pulled away from the touch of his lips to tell him.
"I did not mean to return. It was chance." He had to know this. She had to tell him that she had not come back for him. She loved him, but could he accept that it was not her love that had brought her back, but the winds of chance.
He stared at her. "You did not come back for me."
"No, but…" Could she tell him? She had to.
I always have…"
He pulled her back towards him. As he realised the truth of what he had said so long ago to her.
"Things cannot be as they were…
They must be as they are…"
He kissed her cheek. He would no longer live in the past. He would live for the present, but more than that, for her.
"Then… now… forever…
I love you…"
As she heard those words, she knew it was meant to be -
She lifted both her hands and he felt her soft caress on his cheeks, as she drew him towards her, as they finally poured ten years of longing into that kiss.
First of all, Artemis is a Greek goddess linked to chaste love. I was going to use Aphrodite, but she's way too wily for the child I wanted Fuuko to be. Artemis is also goddess of the hunt and sometimes linked to the moon as well. My assumption is that Mikagami is the kind of person who is well read in pretty much everything, and that he finds his childhood love most like the goddess Artemis.
This is slightly ooc, in the sense that I don't think Fuuko would ordinarily faint at every other thing, but as I said, confusion makes people do strange things. And Fuuko is very confused. And I don't really know if Mikagami would be able to paint, but he is a rather melancholic character and in my opinion, melancholics make the best artists. (Probably why they have such tragic ends.)
Oh, and I know the last bit is a bit sappy, but I couldn't think of a way to resolve their love for each other. And I hope you readers understood the story, cos some of my friends got kind of confused, especially since I don't use their names until the last quarter of the story, and there are no distinctions between what is real and what is just a phantasm.
Last but not least, thanks Ning, for proofreading it.