Description: The disaster in Metro City reunites two old friends long separated by a tragic death. Alma and Mimiru are torn apart by their different fates: he has chained himself to leadership, transforming suffering into a cause; she roams free to redefine herself, unable to forge new bonds. Yet each is in desperate need of the other, the only one who could possibly understand what Jiro's absence has wrought and their desperate efforts to make meaning of their grief. Is it possible for Alma's light and Mimiru's darkness to come together? Or is the one precisely what the other has been missing all along? For a moment, the two, knowing that fate will soon tear them apart again, reach out and touch. (This scene occurs prior to 'The Boy Who Defied Time'.)
Wherever he turns, the world is in tumult.
So it seems to Alma as he neatly stacks sandbags before the entrance to the Metro City Community Center, a vision of studied calm as frenzied volunteers and officials dash and shout around him, seemingly immune to the rain pounding down. With natural disasters occurring simultaneously in completely different parts of the globe, he had finished fortifying the Southtown YFCC headquarters only to fly immediately to rain-lashed Metro City, a metropolis which many others are eager to leave. In the years since he was made head of the YFCC, he has carefully cultivated an international organization of community centers catering to young people and fighters to ensure their talent does not go astray, with his fundraising prowess making him de facto leader. It felt important to come here, not just to sustain this political connection in a time of trial but as a moral obligation to those he's agreed to represent.
But perhaps he needed to step away from Southtown for a moment as well.
Alma rolls his shoulders, tall and lean body rippling under his finely-tailored dress shirt, having hung up his jacket as his only concession to practicality over style during manual labor. Somehow, his clothes don't have any dirt on them. He picks up another sandbag, his face, burn-scarred after his legendary confrontation with Seishirou Ryouhara but still delicately sculpted, contemplative despite the chaos about him. He is older now, able to see beyond the entrancing souls just before his gaze, to aim toward greater goals. The desire to do good on a greater scale has changed his mentality and made him question himself, where before he believed his psychic sight to provide its own proof. And because he has changed, he is not sure how he feels about meeting Jira Kasagi, alleged cousin to Jiro. Probably their meeting means nothing, and he feels it should mean something, which is why he is confused.
But perhaps he is afraid of meeting a figure from his past again, not knowing whether he is happy with who he has become. Could he look Jiro in the eyes and say that this is Alma's ideal life? So when he had the chance to leave--
"Mr. Towazu," a voice cuts in, an assistant interrupting his ruminations. "Has the replacement part for the water filtration unit arrived yet?" The hammering of rainfall on tin and steel is akin to gunfire in a war zone. "I'm not sure how long we'll be able to hold out once the flooding hits without it."
Alma looks up, then turns toward the road to the community center, which remains abandoned. "I was told they'd found someone to deliver it," he murmurs, "but I'm not sure how they'll make it now."
Due to the incoming natural disasters, most services in Metro City have been totally paralyzed. The looting and rampaging had made it difficult to get even the basic supplies from stores and, even then, most have been running out.
Fortunately, even in such crisis, there's always a way to get the right supplies if you pay the right price. Express and personal delivery with a performance bond of delivery and a guarantee to be on time.
Neither the wind nor the rain would stop this special delivery girl -- one of their best agent. Luckily, she happened to be in America for this job and doesn't fear any of the unruly citizens and thugs that might lurk the semi-evacuated city.
Wearing a light transparent raincoat over her outfit and the package she carries, the girl skates through the streets hastily despite the heavy rain and winds that constantly blew in the city. Thankfully, the streets weren't flooded yet and she'd be able to leave before it gets worse.
After what might have seemed to be an eternity for Alma and the members of the community center, someone finally appears in the streets -- the hampered vision due to the rain makes her appear in sight just a few seconds before she actually arrives at her destination.
The delivery girl passes over the barricade of sand bags and makes her way into the Community Center, pulling down her hood and lifting her fogged goggles over her head. Her raincoat and face are drenched, as well as her lower legs, but thankfully, everything under the raincoat is dry.
"I've got one special delivery for the YFCC..." She says, glancing around, hoping one of the person around might be in charge of the community center.
Alma smiles, turning to his surprised assistant as a rollerblading young woman appears as though a curtain of rain has parted for her. "We never should have underestimated their spirit," he remarks, sounding pleased and mirthful. The perseverance of other person banishes his current doubts and speculations. What matters now isn't his own problems. The repetition of his task distracted him from what truly matters: that the people of this city are safe.
Witnessing this woman's determination reminds of that, and he feels a swelling of gratitude as she skates in. The assistant steps forward, but Alma places a hand upon her shoulder, nodding once before approaching the delivery girl himself. "I'll sign for that," he says, voice low and gentle as always, as he sees from behind that she has an unusual hair color, visible once she pulls back her hood and removes her goggles. She's also surprisingly tall, if not quite as tall as him. "It's brave and good of you to come under these circumstances." He begins to circle so that he can speak to her head on. You have my personal--"
Alma's eyes widen, his usual composure evaporating.
What is going on? Why is all this happening now? How could so much change all at once, so many gears begin to turn? What does fate have in store for the lot of them?
None of those questions occur to him now. None matter.
"Mimiru?"
Alma smiles, turning to his surprised assistant as a rollerblading young woman appears as though a curtain of rain has parted for her. "We never should have underestimated their spirit," he remarks, sounding pleased and mirthful. The perseverance of other person banishes his current doubts and speculations. What matters now isn't his own problems. The repetition of his task distracted him from what truly matters: that the people of this city are safe.
Witnessing this woman's determination reminds of that, and he feels a swelling of gratitude as she skates in. The assistant steps forward, but Alma places a hand upon her shoulder, nodding once before approaching the delivery girl himself. "I'll sign for that," he says, voice low and gentle as always, as he sees from behind that she has an unusual hair color, visible once she pulls back her hood and removes her goggles. She's also surprisingly tall, if not quite as tall as him. "It's brave and good of you to come under these circumstances." He begins to circle so that he can speak to her head on. "You have my personal--"
Alma's eyes widen, his usual composure evaporating.
What is going on? Why is all this happening now? How could so much change all at once, so many gears begin to turn? What does fate have in store for the lot of them?
None of those questions occur to him now. None matter.
"Mimiru?"
Even the sound of the rain fades into nothing.
"Is... that you?"
Mimiru was probably one of their only delivery agent crazy enough to perform a task like this -- though she knows well enough how this company works : by performing unlikely deliveries like this, she also gets to pick up the better ones later on as rewards.
The young woman gracefully controls herself on her wheel and remains steady on her spot -- she also doesn't want to get further in the community center so she doesn't drip around the floor further than the entrance.
When someone finally steps in toward her, Mimiru's lips curl into a bright smile, "Right," She says, opening her raincoat so she can unstrap the special box that was fixed to her back. She gives it to the man that came to her, "Right, just a moment.." She says, looking into her shoulder bag for a special numeric pad, "Just sign here and make sure the package is in good condition," She says, offering the pad and stylus to him.
"Brave? Huh, I guess... I think reckless is more what you mean." She smiles and offers a shrug, "Anyway, someone had to do it, right?" Even if she doesn't say it, she's pretty sure they must have paid the high price for this delivery... The fee of the company she works for are generally relatively high.
When she hears her name, Mimiru arches a brow, "Huh, yeah..?" She asks. That confidence in her voice seems to have fade for a moment, her facial expression a bit dumb founded as she stares back at the scarred man. She doesn't ask, but it's obvious on her face she tries to figure out how he knows her name...
She looks so different. Her height, her figure, even her face has changed. He missed all of the formative moments in her physical development, remembers her as a short cheerful girl, indefatigable but hardly a woman.
Alma stands there unmoving, the pad and stylus she has handed him looking like they might slip out of his grip at any moment, his lips parted and eyes frozen wide.
He can tell. Her spirit hasn't changed. If you look, of course, similar features are there. If you pay attention, you cannot but realize it's her. But for most people, it's the sort of encounter where you bid farewell and then minutes later slow and pause and wonder if you recognized them. For Alma, that's impossible. Experience has transformed her, but that vibrance has never changed. Indeed, as she has grown into a woman, its brightness has become intoxicating in a way that few are.
Perhaps that is what stuns him more than anything.
"Mimiru... it is you."
His eyes soften with something like profound relief, even as his lips form a smile as radiant as the sun now hidden behind stormclouds.
"Mimiru Kasagi. You don't recognize me?"
He pauses for a moment, then seems to remember something he's completely forgotten, and his eyes grow a bit rueful, though his smile does not fade. "Ah, well," he adds quietly, "I suppose I've changed a bit myself."
"Mr. Towazu," says another assistant, clad in a thick raincoat and approaching with a clipboard, "here's the checklist we've--"
"In a moment," Alma says without looking away from Mimiru, briefly flummoxing the other man before he nods once and withdraws momentarily. But Alma simply gazes at Mimiru in silence, taking her all in.
"You've truly grown," he finally says, quiet still. "Jiro would be happy to see it."
Many years have passed since they've last seen each other. The little girl that once was Mimiru is no more, even the color of her hair have changed. She has blossomed into womanhood and, to most, it would be hard to recognize her. She grew in height, but also her features have matured enough, not to mention her dark hair have been dyed pink.
Even her aura might feel somewhat different -- experiences have shaped her life, her behaviour and changed her for the better or the worst, but it shared many similiarity with what he might remember of her from her youth in South Town.
The man's reaction causes her to frown even more, her teeth biting her lower lip subtly, "Huh, well..." She says in a soft tone. Weren't it for the heavy rain pouring, one might almost hear the little hamster spinning in her head. After all, it's not like she knew anyone personally in America.
It's Alma's assistance that finally gives her the clue needed to solve this mystery. Mr. Towazu. The way her eyes widen makes it quite obvious she's making the connection in her head, "Mr. Towazu? Alma...?" It has been years since she's had anything to do with someone from South Town...
"No," She says, almost in disbelief, "Is that you? What happened to your face! And... Your hair!" She says, her eyes scanning him, gauging him in a very different way than she did before, not longer looking at him with a professional, business eye, but a more human one.
Alma laughs.
It begins a low chuckle, deep-voiced, and builds to a crescendo, shoulder-shaking mirth that cuts through the storm and causes several of the volunteers to turn in perplexity. Alma laughs whole-heartedly, joyfully, one hand reaching up to cover his heart, tears faintly coming to his eyes. He hasn't laughed like this in a long time. The antics of the young please and amuse him, but there's little he finds truly hilarious.
"Mimiru," he says, reaching up to wipe moisture from one eye when he somewhat regains his composure, "you're as plain-spoken as ever. What happened to my face? Wouldn't most people have the delicacy not to ask the most obvious question?" Alma is grinning widely, eyes sparkling with delight.
"I got in a fight," is his answer, as though that explains everything, before reaching up to run a hand through his hair, a familiar gesture with a much different effect now that it's shorter. "And I got a job. I'm the head of the YFCC, as appointed by Rose, my teacher." It's possible Mimiru has heard of the famous fortune-telling fighter as well. "I've been doing this for a while now. Hotaru and Frei still work with me from time to time. We've mostly retired from fighting." His smile softens. "Southtown is where our headquarters is, but we have locations all over the world -- as you can see."
Alma takes another moment to regard Mimiru, actively measuring her changed appearance against the girl she was.
"How have you been? I'd heard you were traveling and difficult to get ahold of, but I didn't realize you'd gone into deliveries. I never thought we'd meet like this."
The mirth fades from his smile. There's happiness in his eyes, to be certain, brought by her arrival. There's confidence in the worth of the work he's doing, and conviction in the ideals that guide it. But something yawns beneath it, something like doubt but not quite it. And maybe only now, in this very moment, does he begin to understand what this feeling actually is, that which was born as soon as he accepted that Jiro was gone and that he had to move on.
"I've missed you."
Loneliness.
His laughter brings an honest and gentle smile to Mimiru's face -- she was used to Alma's antics, just as she remembered. He was always so hard to seize, she's never quite understood him. She offers him a shrug, "On the other hand, wouldn't it be insensible of me not to ask?"
She gives a slow nod to Alma, tilting her head to one side as she seems to assess the scar now. She rests her hands on her hip and answers, "Quite a lot... I could show you all the places I've been too. Things have been... Difficult, to say the least..." She glances around for a moment and says, "Who could have imagined I'd meet you here or all places..."
His last sentence makes her lips curl into a warm smile. It had been a long time since she heard words like these. They were heart-warming, "Yeah..." She whispers softly, lowering her gaze for a moment. "I guess I've been a bit selfish..." She admits.
She lifts her gaze up, staring into his eyes and after a few seconds, without a warning, she opens her arms and rolls foward, wrapping her arms around the tall guy, giving him a firm hug. Thankfully, she didn't have her raincoat on her back, or she would have messed up Alma's suit.
It lasts only a few seconds before Mimiru pulls away, lifting her hands up on his chest so she can push herself back, "I... Hum, you look rather busy and there seems to be a lot of people waiting for you to help them out..." She says softly, glancing about, "How about we meet up after you're done here? I... I won't be leaving too soon, maybe we could find a pub or something and take a beer or coffee, have a nice chat and forget about the storm, eh?"
Alma's smile eases away, leaving him soft-eyed, almost somber. Of course her life hasn't been easy since then. The two of them didn't even have the opportunity to mourn together. Alma doesn't know how she's processed Jiro's death, how her family has fared beneath the surface. But he's always believed that people make meaning from misery in their own way. That's why he can reassure her without hesitation.
"No, you--"
But she cuts him off with a surprise movement. A psychic is not a mind-reader. For a moment, he is actually uncertain whether she will accept this invasion of her past into her current life, or whether she will turn on her heel and skate away into the rain, never to be seen again. She chooses instead to embrace him, to throw herself against him, and Alma finds himself choked by emotion at this, eyes widening again. But as soon as he processes what has happened, his arms reach up to embrace her in turn, holding the woman against him, feeling the warmth of someone who has suffered like him. When she holds him, it is as though the whole of his past forgives him.
As though saying it's okay to be who he is today.
Only once Mimiru pulls away does Alma blink and hear the faint giggling of a couple of the younger volunteers, realizing that many people have stopped despite the desperate straits to stare at the unfamiliar sight of Alma having an intimate moment with another. He flushes slightly, of all things, which will no doubt also be remembered. "Ah, yes, of course. When I saw you, I forgot myself. That would be--"
Alma looks into Mimiru's eyes and trails off. He is frozen again for a moment, silent. Now that he realizes that he is lonely, he regards with bemusement a conflict within himself that has always been quite rare. The answer is unavoidable.
"--impossible."
But the pain of giving it is unusual.
"Within hours, I have scheduled a private flight back to Japan before the storm hits. I can only leave the Southtown headquarters unattended for a brief time. The ash from Mt. Fuji is covering the city and I must ensure the students are off the streets and the filtration... systems... are..."
That's right. For most people, desires and responsibilities clash. He forgets that, sometimes. All he wants is to bask in beautiful souls and to see them flourish, complementary goals. And that works so long as no one soul means more to him than any other. That works so long as he gives of himself equally to all.
"Mimiru--"
But is that any way for a human to live?
"Will you come with me?"
Could he too have the kind of happiness that belongs to others?
"On the plane, we can talk. Afterward, I'll have them take you anywhere you want, if you like. Just-- I can't--" For some reason, he can't say it. He has the intuition that he is asking her to sacrifice for his happiness, an experience he finds very strange indeed. And he realizes that he is asking this because he is unwilling to sacrifice anything or anyone else. He doesn't know if this is hypocrisy. But what he wants shines before him, and he pushes all doubts aside in pursuit of it.
"I can't leave them, and I want to stay with you."
He reaches out to take Mimiru's hands in his. There's more whispering, but he doesn't even hear it, eyes fixed on the young woman's, his gaze clear again.
"Will you come with me, back to Southtown?"
There's an hint of sadness in her eyes at Alma's words, but that glee in her eyes mixes itself with comprehension and resignation. "I understand," She replies with a slow nod of her head. Her words were not a lie nor empty, she truly understood Alma's answer, how his responsabilities came first and that many persons had expectation toward Alma. That's what it meant to be an adult.
She lowers her gaze and turns on her heels. Guess it meant farewells. Though before she can say anything, Alma calls out to her and makes his offer. She blinks, surprised, "What...?" She whispers under her breath.
She lowers her gaze and stares at his hand as he reaches out for hers, his warm soothing her cold, wet hands. "I..." She lifts her gaze up, slowly pulling her hands away from Alma's own, "I can't go back to Southtown..." She whispers. It almost seemed painful for her to say those last words.
She hesitates, bitting her lower lip, averting her gaze from Alma's eyes. "I can go back to Japan with you though," She finally concedes. "I'm sure I could perform some delivery there," Mimiru says with a faint smile.
Of course. He asked too much.
Alma lowers his gaze as well as Mimiru pulls her hands from his, a tremendous weight upon his heart. How can he make such a painful request of another when he is unwilling to sacrifice anything himself? It's impossible to imagine himself casting aside the needs of others in favor of being with Mimiru. The man who stood by Mimiru's side then would no longer be anything like the Alma she knew. He can't abandon the people he's sworn to protect.
But this heartsickness-- can this truly be right?
Alma parts his lips, knowing not what he'll say in the face of this contradiction, how he can express both his desire to be with this woman -- this fragment of what was best about his past -- and remain the person he's striven to be. He has a terrible sense that if he simply lets her go, even should they meet again, it will not be the same. He must say something. But he is powerless.
"...Mimiru...?"
Until she smiles.
"You mean...?"
Alma grasps her hands again, this time with a wide smile, almost childish in his enthusiasm, eyes bright. "Yes! We'll go together." The rains lash and the winds thunder and Alma hears them as though in a dream. There are a great many questions left unresolved, he has realized, questions buried along with his grief. Is the man he is now truly the person he wants to be? Though it has been a natural progression from doing good individually to building an institution and doing good systematically, is this the right life for someone who thrives on the intensity of person-to-person encounters? Or is that very thriving symptomatic of a fundamental short-sightenedness he's always had, a morality built around what he sees in front of his face rather than what might operate behind the scenes? Should he change? Should the world change? Should the whole world change, all of it, from the ground up?
He doesn't know the answers to these questions any better than before. What he does know is that his ideals, resolute though they are, are empty without the experience of love. Love as the ultimate selflessness--
"Just you and me," he says softly, "in the skies together."
--and as sometimes quite selfish, too.
"Ahem," interjects his first assistant, a woman whose ears are burning at Alma's last words, seemingly much more conscious than him of their overtones. "Forgive the interruption, Mr. Towazu, but we are on a very tight schedule, and if you would just see to these forms--"
"Yes, of course," Alma says now, straightening, the burden entirely alleviated from his heart. He grins at Mimiru, eyes sparkling now, as they sometimes did years ago. "Duty calls. Will you wait for me a little? Once we're finished here, we'll have all the time we need to ourselves."
They'll land in an airport eventually. It's not as though the time will actually be infinite. But perhaps, from the look in his eyes, it will be enough.
The joy on his face is enough to bring a warm smile on Mimiru's lips. His behaviour made her forgot about her saddness for a main, overshadowing it. As if nothing had ever happened, as if those seven years had never passed away.
His words make her blush faintly for a moment, "Don't get any ideas.." Mimiru answers, turning her eyes away. When his assistance interjects, Mimiru pulls her hands away and she reaches out for a piece of paper and a pen in her shoulder bag. She scribbles down a few things on it, "No -- actually, if we're leaving, I'd best go pack my things up. Here's my number, you should be able to reach me with it.. Give me the details on the flight, and I'll make sure to be there," She says, handing out the piece of paper to Alma.
Once Alma reaches out for the piece of paper, Mimiru uses her other hand to get a hold of Alma's shirt, to drag him closer, so she can whisper to his ears, "If it had been seven years ago, you know what I would have done?" She asks, "Just to embarass you, I would have kissed you..." She grins and pulls away, a wicked smile on her face. "But... I've changed.." She simply states.
She turns on her heels and reaches out for her raincoat, putting it back on. "Don't forget to call me..." She says.
She then skates closer to Alma, leaning over rapidly in an attempt to steal a peck on Alma's lips. She then gracefully skates backward, winking playfully at Alma. She moves her lips exageratedly and says softly, "Waiting for your phonecall," She gestures the phone with her left hand, before she adjusts the hood of her raincoat as well as her goggles.
And off she goes...
"Ideas?"
Alma's expression of innocent curiosity at Mimiru's words causes his assistant to go deadpan and roll her eyes heavenward before thrusting the papers she's holding in the pure saint's face. While Mimiru reaches into her bag, Alma is signing off on some of the forms that have been proferred him, entering back into work mode in high spirits. Concluding that he is back on the job, some of the other volunteers who have finished their labors begin to gather around with questions they have been saving until he becomes available again. Thus it is that Alma has a somewhat distracted look when he glances back at Mimiru, smiling as he reaches for the paper she extends to him. "Great," he replies, his composure restored. "Then I'll call-- hm?"
Suddenly her face is close. Very close. Alma's eyebrows raise slightly, his expression otherwise unchanging. It's not like he minds her being so close, though it feels a bit different from before. At her words, though, he becomes baffled. But not nearly so baffled as the group which has crowded around, thinking his interaction with Mimiru was over.
She leans in to him--
"Ehhhh!?" go about seven voices at once.
--and then pulls away with a teasing smile.
"Ohh," go the voices, though whether with relief or disappointment or simply exhaustion, it is hard to tell.
Alma watches her blankly as she skates away, very slowly processing her words, and continues to watch blankly as she skates right back-- and kisses him, their lips touching briefly, but the contact soft and warm.
"EEEHHHHHH!?" cry the surrounding volunteers and assistants, some of them throwing their papers up in the air to be lost in the winds and waters.
Alma stands in silence, Mimiru's number in his hand, as the mischievous woman skates away. Gradually he raises his fingers to his lips, which still tingle with the feel of her mouth against his. For a long while, he does not speak.
"That's right," he finally says, almost conversationally. "She was my first kiss."
The silence takes solid form.
"EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHH!?!?"
And shatters.
Packing things up -- a few hours later, Mimiru receives the information on her smart phone about the incoming flight. She always traveled light, having no home or anywhere steady to stay, it was easy for her to prepare her things for the airport.
She shows up at the airport right in time, the cases she brought with her already all packed up in the plane, leaving her only with her shoulder bag.
She has to rush out to make it up to the plane, the rain pourring down heavily. Whether she liked it or not, she had to leave America if she could, she didn't want to stay here when the real storm would hit, after all.
She walks in the plan, taking her time to stare and look around... She never had the chance to take on a private flight before and it was quite different than the normal ones..
Alma has never been a man for opulence, but always one for comfort and style. It's said that while YFCC donations paid for the plane itself and its basic necessities, useful in crisis situations such as this, Alma paid out of his own pocket for finer furnishings, all of which evince not showiness but good taste and very high quality. The front of the plane is where the YFCC workers and assistants, some of whom Mimiru encountered previously, rest, many of them already napping even before the plane has taken off. Even in the best of times, these people work hard and get their sleep in whenever they can.
But in the back, to which Mimiru is directed, is Alma's private cabin, in which the sounds of the other room are muffled and the hum of the plane fades. The windows have drapes drawn back, soon to reveal a clear and expansive sky, and there is a polished work desk and comfortable chair in the corner, unobtrusively bolted down. The stacks of papers there suggest that is where Alma spends most of his time, but as Mimiru enters he on the other side of the room, where a simple but comfortable bed is situated in one corner and a kitchenette takes up the other. Alma, still in slacks and a dress shirt, looks up in the midst of pouring steaming water into a teapot and smiles. "Tea will be ready in two minutes, if you would like some," he says. Apparently brewing tea is something he prefers to do himself. There's no sign of a drinks cabinet to store anything else.
In the middle of the room is a low table with cushions arrayed around it, a simpler sitting situation than bolting down more chairs and taking up more space. But Alma doesn't move to sit right away. Instead he looks at Mimiru for a few long moments, eyes softening, before he steps forward and moves to gently embrace her, this time taking the initiative in the hug if he may.
"Thank you for coming," he murmurs.
Mimiru seems to walk in slowly -- assessing her surrounding. She didn't quite feel at ease inside of this plane, or at least, she made it look like that way. Those sort of things weren't really what she was used to, and it's obvious she's out of her comfort zone.
Her eyes wander around this part of the plane, then up to Alma. "Huh, sure... Yeah, tea would be nice," She says, her hands idly holding up the leather straps of her shoulder bag.
When Alma approaches her and wraps his arms around her, Mimiru leans in and she returns the hug. She closes her eyes for a moment and nods, "I'm always moving around... Might as well make this flight enjoyable with an old friend... Beside, I've got some special deliveries to do in Tokyo," She says. Mixing business with this travel.
Mimiru lets go of Alma and takes a few steps into the room, making her way to the obvious place to sit, the cushion near the low table. She sits down on her knees, heaving a soft sigh, "So... Why don't you tell me more about yourself and all that happened to you... Looks like you've grown to be quite someone... Private jet and everything..." She says.
Alma smiles slightly. It's likely this experience is a bit overwhelming, but hopefully with just him and her here, she'll be able to relax after a while. "It's not mine personally, of course," he says as she steps away, turning as well to busy himself with the tea. "It belongs to the organization. Rose remains the nominal head, but she hasn't been involved with its day-to-day affairs in years. From the beginning, it seems she planned on delegating that task to me. After the invasion of Southtown and the problems in Sunshine City, the role of the YFCC has expanded significantly. At its heart, though, the point is to get young fighters who might be confused about what to do with their strength off of the strength and give them support and direction."
He pauses for a moment, watching a tea leaf float delicately along the surface of the water, before taking up the pot and placing it on a small tray with two porcelain cups. "If only you listen to them, if only you reach out," he says softly, "young men and women have the power and the will to help themselves, and turn away from evil."
He walks over to the table, setting down the tray upon it, before kneeling down upon the cushion next to Mimiru. "I don't want to let anyone fall through the cracks," he continues, gaze fixed on the teapot, expression serious, "ever again."
He pauses for a moment, glances back at her, and smiles again, reaching out to pour them both steaming cups which release a rich and soothing fragrance. "But that's an ambitious plan," he then says in a lighter tone, "and it's taken a lot of hard work even to get this far. Earning trust isn't easy, and when you work within the system, everyone has their own interests and motivations. Sometimes I must ally myself with people whose righteousness I doubt." There are a lot of bad rumors about the government of Southtown, even now. "When I think of the children I help by doing so, I have no doubts. But I've begun to wonder how much one can change from within the system. I wonder how much I can change by helping people individually day to day, without fixing the underlying causes of their poverty and despair." As he takes up his tea, Alma sees that his reflection is a tired one, more than he realized. He smiles again at Mimiru, but this time the expression is a little sad. "The man who scarred my face and I argued about those very questions."
Alma then tilts his head slightly, feeling his energy returning with Mimiru's presence and the aroma of the tea. "And how about you, Mimiru? How long have you been traveling? Do you typically travel alone?" Have you been by yourself this whole time? It's a difficult question to ask.
Mimiru's eyes remain fixed on Alma as he goes about to prepare the tea and pour its liquid into their procelain cup, "Thank you," She mutters as she reaches out for the cup, holding it in both of her gloved hands, enjoying its warmth against her palms.
She listens silently to Alma's story, lowering her gaze to stare into the liquid contained in her cup. Her lips curl into a faint smile and she says, "Huh, you've always wanted to see the good in other people. I'm glad that didn't change... And that others believed in you. I mean, look what you've built for this purpose, worldwide, no?"
Mimiru hums softly and she tilts her head to one side, "And I suppose the argument didn't end well?" She asks. She doesn't press on the matter though, figuring Alma will speak about it if he wants to.
"Oh, me?" Mimiru says, "It's... A long story. I've come a long way since Southtown..." Mimiru says. She puts her cup down and she stretches her arms, "I've been travelling for the past six years..." Mimiru says, "Right after I graduated from Taiyo..." She says, "I always travel alone, and I never stay in the same place for too long..."
She glances down at her shoulder bag and opens it up, digging through it for her passport and she hands it to Alma, "I've been to fifty two different countries," She says, beaming almost proudly. "I generally don't stay in one place more than a month before I go some place else.." She admits.
"Yes," Alma says as Mimiru evokes his achievements, "it's been a long process." But his voice is a little fainter than usual, and his gaze is somber as he reflects. Hearing the words come from Mimiru's lips, he feels somehow dishonest, but is not sure exactly why. He's still thinking about this as she asks about the 'argument,' at which point he smiles slightly and glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "Unfortunately, no," is his only reply, sounding somewhat amused. But that's also a long story, and he hasn't seen Seishirou Ryouhara since their dreamlike showdown in Taizhou, after he'd been hurled from the flying Blacknoah with a bomb embedded in his chest. Dramatic though the tale is, he'd prefer to hear Mimiru's story.
His smile fades as she speaks, listening quietly. He takes the passport as she hands it to him, flipping through the pages, seeing countless stamps and temporary visas. It is impressive, and surely it must be fun, but Alma doesn't say anything, finally placing Mimiru's passport back down upon the table. He's thoughtful for a moment, and when he finally speaks, he looks at the steaming teapot, not at her.
"I've sought to live a life that would make meaning out of loss, to do whatever I can to prevent the past from being repeated. I never thought I was burying myself in work. I believed I was facing my grief directly. But I still come home to an empty room. Being of service to others fulfills me. But some voids cannot be filled. I tell myself that is, in some sense, the point. But making sense of it doesn't change the reality. Whether I'm right or wrong, I'm alone."
The steam curls through the air as Alma takes up the cup.
"I don't know ... what I'm supposed to do about that."
He drinks deep. Then he exhales, long and slow. Finally he sets the cup down and looks back at Mimiru, his expression gentle and somber. What is it he wants? He almost always knows the answer to that question, but right now he is at a loss. Does he want her to say that she is like him? Does he want to ask for her help, he of all people, when she no doubt struggles more than he ever has? Does he want her to rely on him? Alma simply doesn't know how to deal with loneliness. Someone whose life has been entirely defined by the experience of psychic interconnectedness with others--
"What do people normally do ... about loneliness?"
It took a long time for him to find himself in the place most people begin.
Mimiru lifts the cup to her lips and she gently sips some of the tea. It was still too hot for her to take more than she did. She remains silent and listens to Alma, obviously just happy to hear about him and his tales, to hear about how he has felt through those years.
She moves her hand to take the passport and she puts it back inside of her shoulder bag, "Everyone deals with loneliness in a different way, Alma," Mimiru answers, giving him a nod of her head. She tilts her head to one side and says, "You've never thought about getting settled? Having a pet, someone waiting for you back home?" Mimiru asks, a gentle smile spreading on her lips.
She leans back some and says, "You know, you've also struck me as someone who would end up with a nice girl... Have a family, some kids..." She takes a pause, pondering, then she asks :
"Do you feel happy with your life as it is, Alma?"
She shakes her head and adds, "That's the question you should ask yourself. Was that the life you imagined you would have?"
"Getting ... settled?"
Alma looks slightly baffled by this suggestion, before smiling lopsidedly. "It's a little difficult for me to imagine," he admits. There are a couple people he's felt strongly for, a very particular kinship with their spirits and personalities, and through that he's come to understand what romantic love is. But since then he's never experienced a connection like that. "Without a specific person I'm attracted to, a vision like that is too hazy. But ... I suppose that is what people do, isn't it? They fall in love..."
There's no reason why that should be impossible, right? But how does one get oneself to fall in love, if that's the right thing for them? If he's powerless to fall in love, is he powerless to alleviate his loneliness?
He can't say that. That sounds too depressing.
He distracted from this train of thought by Mimiru's question, Alma's eyebrows lifting slightly. Her query is one that has arisen for him again recently, the most insistent of all the questions that plague him now at this juncture, even when his success seems so evident. "I wonder if I had the capacity to imagine a life like this," he says a little ruefully. "I had a goal, and this has been the best way of making it a reality." Though even that effectiveness he questions now, despite the lives he sees changed. "But when I return to my childlike dream--" He hesitates for a moment. "No, I suppose it was quite different. I wished to be bound close with a small group of true friends, never to become a leader like this. I'm happy every time I see a young person succeed through my efforts. Through that, I'm made content. But perhaps my own enduring happiness is something I've sacrificed along the way."
That might be hard to admit to himself, even with his vaunted honesty, but with Mimiru sitting there besides him it's surprisingly easy to say. He turns to her, meeting her gaze.
"And you, Mimiru? Are you happy living this way?"
After a moment, he smiles ever so slightly.
"Have you managed to fall in love?"
What else could fill the void that opened up within the both of them?
Mimiru can't help but giggle, "Yeah, getting settled!" She says, "You know, I can easily imagine you with the whole family life -- the wife, the kids and the dog... You know, the whole package deal?" She hums softly, lifting one hand up to tap her chin. It seemed so right in her mind, though Alma's personality might have clashed with this vision of himself.
Her intonation grows a bit more serious and she nods to Alma, "I suppose you just haven't found the right person... You know, back then, that's what I thought it meant, to become an adult," Mimiru says. The way she shrugs her shoulders though obviously shows she must have changed her mind on the matter though.
Her hands move back on her cup of tea and she lifts it back to her lips. It had cooled down just enough to let her drink more of it as Alma carries on with his explanations. When she lowers her cup from her lips, Mimiru looks thoughtful, "I guess you could say I just keep moving foward..." Mimiru replies.
She averts her gaze from Alma for a moment, staring off at the distance, "It's the only thing that seems to feel right," Mimiru offers. She lowers her gaze and says, "Nothing's been the same after... My brother's death. There was too much failures and sadness in Southtown, I had to leave... I left, the summer after my graduations, a sort of escape, I guess... But when the time to come back home rang... I just couldn't. I didn't want to go back, it felt right, to be away... To start anew. I just wanted to forget everything about that time.. I've had my share of good times, with you... And others but..." She lets her words trail off.
She shakes her head, "I can't say I've had any real true love, Alma... I constantly move away whenever the people around me seems to get too close..." She lowers her gaze some, as if wondering why she keeps doing that, "Guess I must have broken the hearts of a few.. I've done... Lots of different experiences, you could say..." She heaves a sigh and adds, "Thinking about all this makes me feel selfish..."
She trails off and remains silent, her voice a bit shaky before she asks, "Do you know if Yoko's well...?" She asks, obviously afraid to hear the answer.
Alma lowers his gaze.
She finally mentioned it, the topic around which they've been dancing. Jiro's death. It unites them and it divides them. The two of them have suffered some of the most from Jiro's absence from their lives. Yet Alma cannot pretend to truly fathom her pain, even as an empath. Only once she trails off does he look up again, eyes soft, the set of his lips kind.
Moving away when people get too close. He almost flinches when she mentions that. Mimiru was always a bit impossible to understand -- though he's the last person who should be saying so -- but the thought of that effervescent girl becoming someone who shies from intimacy is painful. But is he any better? Striving for connections between souls, but without a true partner in his life.
It's just too sad to let things end this way.
At her final question, Alma pauses a moment before offering Mimiru a reassuring smile, some of his weariness evaporating. "I check in on your mother from time to time," he says. "She's doing well enough, still working, tough as ever. A couple years back we spoke about you when I asked if she'd heard from you, and she began speaking about how after she and your father divorced and she left Metro City for Japan, she cut off ties with everyone back in America for years until she felt as though she had regained her confidence and her pride. Her true friends, she said, were still there for her when she called them back up." He's silent for a moment, still smiling, before he continues softly: "I couldn't say for sure, Mimiru, but I think she understands."
He's silent for a few moments more, his smile fading, until eventually he begins to appear somewhat troubled. "Um, sorry, Mimiru, I didn't quite understand," he admits at last, unusually hesitant, brow knit in perplexity. "What did you mean by ... different experiences?"
Like, traveling?
Mimiru's lips curl into a faint smile. It was a smile of relief, and she turned her head away as she hears Alma speaks about her mother... It had been years since she last saw her, and Mimiru didn't try anything to get in contact with her since she left. "I suppose it must not be easy for her to talk about it either..." Mimiru admits with a slow nod of her head, "I hope she doesn't worry for me too much... I just never stay at the same place for too long so..."
She heaves a sigh, hearing herself try to justify her own actions, as if trying to ease the guilt she felt, "I still send her letters, from time to time..." She admits, "Once or twice a year, to give her news..." She says. She nods, mostly to herself, "That's good to know," She says, her eyes a bit watery at the thought.
"I've never been rich, so I've done lots of job to earn a living at first... I've often stayed in youth shelters, with other young travelers like me." She grins and says, "I haven't been in vacation for those six years... It's a weird sort of wanderlust, but just keeping on going foward, with no objective, seeing different part of the world..." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and says, "I felt free... Relieved..."
She gives Alma a slow nod and says, "A lot happened in my life, but I've managed to put everything behind me," Her lips curl into a wide grin and she says, "I guess you could say, I'm a new Mimiru... All this... This traveling, the wanderlust, the people I've met, it helped me be at peace with my past, have a new start, reborn... Fresh and new..."
She heaves a sigh and turns her eyes away, "I hope you managed to do that too. It took long enough, and I've been over Jiro's death..." She smiles weakly and says, "And everything else... I..." She looks up at Alma and adds, "I don't really have the intention of talking about it, unless it would make you feel better, but for me, it's a thing of the past and I've moved foward,"
She hums softly and then adds, "But... I've travelled a lot, and I guess... I could say a lot about the things I've done though, if you want..."
Alma, still looking a little confused, smiles nevertheless.
"If you've put it behind you, that's all there is to say."
Just as despite his doubts, it would be unfair to deny his achievements, so despite Mimiru's pain, it would be unfair to say she hasn't been free. No doubt the adventures she's been on have been good for her. Even if she's not yet ready to return home, and even if that means much remains unresolved, she has grown into a fuller person than before. That's not something anyone can prove, so it's important not to carelessly deny it.
"Maybe there's still something missing from my life," he says softly, "and maybe I don't konw where I want to be in the future, but I'm proud of what I've done, too, and I wouldn't take it back."
He still doesn't quite get what she's talking about, though.
"The things you've done? Yes... I mean, I want to know..."
Alma, puzzled but curious, awaits whatever it is Mimiru would like to speak of, reaching to take up the pot and refill their cups of tea in the meantime. The airplane hums quietly, the windows outside revealing a clear blue sky with cloudstuff far below.
Mimiru tilts her head to one side and she looks into her shoulder bag. She takes out her smart phone and lets her finger dance across the screen, selecting the proper files, "I've saved and taken a few pictures, through the years... If you want to see..." Mimiru says.
She hands the phone to Alma, allowing him to scroll and browse through the various pictures of places landscapes she has seen. Some of unknown places, though others clearly show remarkable landsite. Amongst those pictures, it's possible to see Alma with various persons -- boys and girls. Young adults, just like Mimiru. Sometimes they're alone, in others Mimiru's on the picture.
Due to her growth, it's easy to know which pictures came first and which came later on... It's as if the passing years were recorded in her book... For every place she's been to, she has exactly five pictures... A selection she must have done, keeping only the most evocative ones. It was a small record book of what she had done through those years.
Mimiru smiles and she leans back, "It all started in Europe... More precisely in France. That's where I started my summer trip... I never thought though I would have stayed there... But when I made my decision, it was different... I had nowhere to go, and I wandered off, crossing many borders. On foot, later using roller blades... I met many persons... There are many countries there, I've worked on a farm, in small places..." She lowers her gaze a bit and she says, "I... I've also been doing a lot of work on myself too, during that time... I suppose, trying to find happiness, eh? It's a never ending trip, but I've got out of it well enough," She explains.
Her lips curl into a wide grin and she says, "I met a lot of people too... But... I always left them before too long..." She admits. She lowers her gaze, thoughtful and she says, "I don't know why... Maybe I was afraid to lose my freedom? That they would take a too important place in my heart?"
She gives a shrug, "Anyway... I've wondered around easily a year... Until I found this delivery job in Copenhague... Which allowed me to earn a living as well as travel through Europe..."
Alma takes the phone proffered him and scans through the photos, smiliing as he settles on a photo of himself and Mimiru, taken long ago. "We both look so different," he murmurs. He keeps very few photographs, preferring to sketch from memory, but the ones he possesses are precious. Perhaps he should take more.
He listens as he looks through the neatly ordered photographs, a visual tour to accompany her story. The path she's taken is diametrically the opposite of what he's done, but he nevertheless feels a tremendous kinship as he sees her past reflected back at him. They've both been working on themselves. They've been building meaningful lives in response to what's been taken from them.
"Being an international delivery girl suits you."
Alma lowers the phone, placing it on the table, and smiles again. One way or another, they've both ended up in positions that suit them.
"It must be nice to have your traveling pay for itself."
Even if it can't go on forever.
"Why wouldn't you want someone to take an important place in your heart?" Alma then asks, his voice softer. "Would another person necessarily restrict your freedom?" He's not arguing with her. He wants to know what's behind her rhetorical questions. Why has Mimiru prevented others from growing close? What does that mean?
Alma wants to know. He hasn't consciously attempted to lock people out of his heart, but the fact remains that, though he is surrounded by allies and admirers, he too toils alone. If both he and she have suffered a similar loss, perhaps the answer to his dilemma is to be found in her own.
"You think so?" Mimiru asks, tilting her head to one side. She leans over, as if to have a look at the various pictures he has seen on her smrat phone. Her lips curl into a bright smile and she nods, "Thanks... I took a weird path, but... It feels right," Mimiru says with a slow nod, "I'm happy of everything I've done... I don't think I have any regrets, looking back at myself..."
She nods her head and says, "I've done all sorts of delivery... Everywhere. You'd be surprised to know the kind of customers we have... But, you know, curiousity isn't a good trait to have when you work for this business. The less question you ask, the better..." She explains.
Alas, Mimiru has never really thought what there would be after her life as a delivery girl... Surely she can't do this for the rest of her life, after all, but she doesn't seem to worry about that for now.
The next question makes her ponder. She lowers her gaze and shakes her head, "I don't know, Alma... It didn't feel right... I didn't want to settle down. I was happy, making new friends... But... I guess I've been constantly longing for this intense moment.. You know... New friendships..."
Her lips curl into a faint smile, a nostalgic one, "I... It's always been brief, intense and passionate. Some have been my friends... Others have been a bit more than that, but... After a while, I constantly felt the need to move on... It's hard to explain, as if I felt like I wouldn't find happiness that way..."
Mimiru decides to go on another tangent, not wanting to make Alma uneasy with the details of her relationships, "I've also trained a lot... I tried to put fighting aside but, in the end, training and focusing on myself helped me a lot too.."
In the soundproof private cabin at the back of the YFCC jet, a faint hum is all that can be heard of the aircraft's engines, dissolving into soothing white noise. Outside the expansive windows is endless blue, punctuated only by the faint intervening tendrils of steam that emerge from the teapot in the center of the room, a visual reminder of the cloudstuff far below. Amidst the tranquil aura of this cozy room, something inside Alma tightens.
He appears calm, his manner mild, but an unfamiliar sensation churns within his breast. He hears Mimiru's hesitant words, but he is focused on her face. Even when she smiles nostalgically, speaking of her past dalliances, a shadow seems to him to haunt her eyes. Perhaps he is imagining it. But if so, that is equally unsettling. Why would any part of him wish for her to despair? Her features and his own heart gnaw at him, and he turns within to seek the truth.
He wants her to be lonely, too.
Now that he has met her again, she who was also powerfully touched by Jiro's death, he wants to draw close to her, as close as possible. He knows their sufferings have been of different natures, as have their responses. But he wants her to understand. And, simultaneously, he fears that she does. Wishing for her suffering, and wishing that she wouldn't suffer. Is that contradiction producing the twisting of his heart?
Is that why her speaking of past loves is so unpleasant to him?
She changes the subject while he is lost in reverie, but this makes him all the more uneasy, as though now he'll never know the answer to the questions he's just posed himself. "When we are faced with our powerlessness to change what grieves us most," he murmurs, "training shows us what power we still possess. Gradually we may master and redefine ourselves, and gradually let go." Though he typically enjoys abstract conversations, Alma sounds a little distant and distracted as he speaks. "As fighters, too, the intimate intensity you spoke of seeking can be found in battle as well." Alma is all about that.
There follows a brief silence, in which he does not meet her gaze.
"I don't like it," he says quietly.
Why was the last time he said something so childish?
"I don't like that you've been alone when I've been surrounded by allies and followers," he continues, voice barely above a whisper, "and I don't like that you've found romantic partners, even briefly, when I barely understand what it means to do so."
The first emotion is guilt. But what is the second?
Mimiru heaves a soft sigh and she turns her eyes away for a moment. Her eyes are staring at something far away that doesn't seem to exist as memories of all those early morning where she trained and focused on herself.
She glances back at Alma, her expression thoughtful at what he just said about training. There weren't any reason for Mimiru to do all those things, or rather she didn't want to admit to herself why she did so much inner working and trained so hard, but Alma manages to put into words how she must have felt and it leaves her wondering about it.
The sudden change in his speech though causes Mimiru to blink and arch a brow, "What...?" She mutters under her breath. It takes her a moment to let it sink, as if she didn't expect this from Alma.
She processes the information for a moment, and all Mimiru can reply to Alma is a gentle, soothing smile, "I have made those decisions, Alma... I decided to leave Southtown, I decided to leave alone, I decided to keep on moving..." She bites her lower lip and tilts her head to one side, "I have no regret on how I've spent my life... It could have been different, sure... But the past is the past, and I don't want to look back at it with regrets. I just keep on moving, living my life to its fullest... Not letting go to waste.."
A faint smile spreads on Mimiru's lips as she moves her knees closer to her chest, hugging on them, "Why are you so eager to find it out...?" Mimiru asks, as if doing something like that could spoil things out. She hums softly, dreamly, and says, after a moment of silence, "You know, Alma... I think you were my first crush, when I was younger..."
She bites her lips and adds, "... I wonder if it was because of that special connection you had with Jiro," She shakes her head dismissingly, her cheeks flushing gently.
Alma feels his cheeks burning.
He is embarrassed at his admission of emotions of which he is not proud and which he cannot control. He is ashamed that a part of him took solace in Mimiru's pain when now she looks upon him with such kindness, and realizes he is foolish to think that Mimiru would need to suffer in order to understand, accept, and forgive him. And he is moved--
"Mimiru..."
--at how beautiful she is when she smiles.
Living life to the fullest, without regrets, and letting none of it go to waste. Hearing her speak like this soothes Alma's heart. Even if her world has been marred by tragedy, so long as she is living like that, Mimiru retains her essence, the soul of the girl he once knew.
His heart skips a beat.
"I remember."
She's the same girl.
"You were my first kiss."
Now a woman.
The sensation of her lips on his from earlier today returns to him unbidden. Alma's gaze flickers, disoriented. The displacement of time seems to constrict the space around them. Neither of them have moved, but she seems closer than before.
What is it he is looking for in the heart of another? Why is he so eager to find it? Alma, who is so sensitive to the play of others' emotions and so fascinated by their extremes, may have assumed unquestioningly that his psychic link was the most profound way to connect with another. He is used to an everpresent sense of togetherness. But that kind of love is not romantic love. He cannot direct his will to fall in love. He is missing something which none of his training prepared him for.
"Jiro was my other half."
He watches the blush grace Mimiru's cheeks.
"I stood in the light and he in the shadows. Without him, I do not know how to face shadows of my own."
Alma did not just love Jiro. Alma relied on him.
"The light in me shines too bright. It suppresses dark truths for too long. The part of me that hungers and desires selfishly has gone neglected in favor of my convictions. I cannot even recognize those feelings when they emerge. Now that I am alone, I--"
'Why are you so eager to find it out...?'
"I don't know where to begin."
There must be different ways to grow close to others.
"Mimiru, how--"
He turns to her now, leaning forward slightly, eyes intent on her own.
t"How does one practice love?"
The reminescence of that first kiss shared with Alma causes Mimiru's smile to grow wider. A soft chuckle escape her throat as she realizes how naive or childish she was when she was younger. She bites her lips and lowers her gaze a bit, "Yeah... You too," She adds with a nod.
Things were so easy, years ago... Her views on life so much more simplistic than they were before. She contemplates her actions with a totally different eye, her behaviour and how she felt for Alma back then. "I think a part of me was jealous of that relation you had with my brother," She admits, sharing her thought on the matter.
His last question catches her a bit off guard, the expression on her face showing it. She blins and then leans in a bit closer.
"Alma, I..."
She seems to hesitate on her reaction, but after a second of hesitation, she leans in a bit closer and reaches out for Alma's hand to hold it into her hand. Her lips curl into a reassuring smile as she replies, "When the you'll find the right person Alma, you'll know it... You'll feel it, deep down inside, and you won't think -- you'll just let that blissful feeling guide you," She pats Alma's hand gently.
Her previous experiences have left her a bit disillusioned on the matter, but Alma seems in a totally different situation than she was, and she truly hopes that he could feel a purer version of love, a more romantic and novelistic kind than she had.
"Don't rush things, or else you might regret it..." She adds.
Alma doesn't know what he wants.
His body and will are one, through the strength of his ideals and the nature of his psychic power and his thorough training. Physical or mental fatigue can disjoint them, but temporarily, with the assurance that they shall be restored. Now, leaning close to Mimiru, Alma listens to his own heart and hears only static. His body urges him forward with some intoxicating impulse he finds vaguely familiar, like the face of a long-lost acquaintance. But his will is simply silent. It does not protest against his body. It is absent. In this situation, his ideals do not apply. There is no right or wrong answer, no choice that is sure to produce happier and more meaningful lives.
There is only one question.
"Mimiru..."
What does he want?
"...Thank you."
She takes his hand, and the moment between them, whatever it was, passes. The room which a second before had been stifling seems to return to its normal size. Alma feels an opportunity to take action slip away, and even has a sense of what it was. But he does not know whether that path he's left behind is one he wanted to travel. Perhaps if he's uncertain, it's for the best he didn't act. Or perhaps it's something you can only know after you plunge in, once the mistake has been made.
He doesn't know.
He feels distant, somehow, but he is grateful for her words. He does not, however, know if they are true. Though Alma is naive when it comes to romance still, Mimiru seems to speak to him of an ideal that she herself has not lived. As one whose passion is so often unerring, he wonders if love simply is a messy thing, full of half-starts and uncertainties and wild descent.
He somewhat hopes it is. Nevertheless, he leans back.
"You're right," he says, smiling at last. "There's still time."
Time on this flight, and time in their lives. He and Mimiru have only just been reunited. Their work will tear them apart soon, but he already believes that they'll meet again now that their friendship has been rekindled. When they do, when he sees her again, maybe then he'll know. Until he does, he will be happy for what he has.
"I don't want any more regrets," he adds softly, "for either of us."
There is still time for Alma to discover what love is.
At least, Mimiru wants to believe so. Not only for him, but to believe that Alma will be able to find what she hasn't been able to, to believe that true and pure love exist.
Mimiru smiles at Alma ; a bright smile full of hope for him.
It was for the best that way, the only love Mimiru has ever known was tainted love. Passionate, fierce but evanescent... Every time, she would run away from this commitment, afraid to invest herself emotionnaly in a relationship.
Afraid that giving her love would hurt her.
Alma was different though. Unlike all the previous persons she met in those past years, Alma was not a stranger. He was one of her dear friend...
Mimiru rubs his hand gently and she lets go as Alma leans back. She tilts her head and stares at him for a moment, as if trying to see the true meaning behind his words, his true desires and intentions.
His last words about regrets make her smile faintly. Mimiru lowers her gaze and remains silent for a moment, thoughtful.
"The only love I've ever experience is tainted," Mimiru says. She lifts her eyes up at him, "And the only love I can give is a poisonous gift," She adds with a weak, apologetical smile.
Despite the panacae it would feel to give in to such offer, Mimiru's afraid to be devoured by remorse of inflicting a dear friend a heart ache due to her flaws.
Mimiru knows she's broken, but she can't help it. Just like a drug, she keeps going back to it, for this moment of bliss where one can forget everything and just lose themself into this act.
Mimiru was selfish... But not with Alma. Not with such an old friend.
"I don't want to do this to you," Mimiru says with a nod. She grins at him and says, "You deserve so much better than me,"
This pure and idolize love Mimiru wants to believe in, that's what he deserved. Unfortunately, Mimiru had nothing of the like to offer : "I'd only end up hurting you," She whispers softly, and just the thought seems to sadden her.
What world is this, that they live in now?
Some horrible mistake was made, long ago. Jiro died, and Alma became a workaholic, and Mimiru came to think of herself as a ruined woman capable of only toxic love. It revolts Alma to hear Mimiru say these things about herself. His expression turns grim and tight as he resists the urge to cry out in dismay and defiance. He resists, because it is not her words that offend him. Who is he to deny what she says, however outrageous her claims, however absurd to think that a woman so young could already be finished with true love? For all he knows, she is right. He is having this conversation, after all, because he is ignorant.
What disgusts him is not her words but this reality, this world that the two of them have come to inhabit, symbolized by this room: two wounded people suspended in air, briefly transcending those circumstances which heedlessly throw them together and drag them apart. A world that has made it so that they desperately need each other and yet, it seems, cannot get too close. The heat he felt in her presence moments ago, which he still does not fully understand, has faded, to be replaced by the agonizing sense of his powerlessness. He thought he had achieved grace in the face of such things long ago. Perhaps he has in some ways. Perhaps in others, he simply numbed himself.
"I think..."
It's impossible to know.
"I've had enough of purity."
Alma is smiling slightly, wryly even, in response to Mimiru's devastating confession. His tone is a bit lighter, but his words don't sound entirely like a joke.
"The ideal of universal love has always been a reality for me." His voice softens. "Ever since my powers awakened, I've experienced the connections between myself and others viscerally and continuously. Being constantly reminded of how our lives are intertwined makes it easy to accept and to forgive. Our differences seem trivial in comparison."
Alma's smile fades at last, his brow furrowing faintly.
"But I don't think ... normal love is like that." It took him a while to tease the lesson out from his experiences, but romantic love is not like spiritual love. "Normal love involves doubt and fear and desperate desire. Its focus is not our fundamental unity but our fundamental divisions, driven by the impossible wish to become one with another autonomous will. That kind of love ... I think it will always be 'tainted.'"
He leans in again, expression still serious.
"But isn't that what I've never experienced? That incompleteness has always been covered over for me by other, more powerful experiences. Isn't it still true for me as it is for everyone, though? Am not I too a man?"
Even a saint cannot play the angel forever.
"You're not tainted, Mimiru. You're just a person, a woman, an adult."
What does Alma want?
"I'm not afraid of being hurt. If I can be hurt, that means I can live more like others do, and can experience the half of the world I've been missing this whole time."
He just wants what he always has--
"I want to be a little more like you."
To honestly express himself.
Alma's confession obviously seems to surprise Mimiru. The girl blinks and she arches a brow. It destabilizes her, at first, but she listens carefully to his words. Mimiru was trying to understand and figure him out, but she had always had a hard time truly seizing him.
Mimiru's lips curl into a gentle smile as she lowers her gaze her cup of tea, losing herself in her reflection. All of this speech forces her to look back at how she has lived her life so far, and the more she does, the more she feels regrets growing inside of her.
Would it have been possible to be happy with a different way of living?
Mimiru wonders. The more she looks back, the more she feels like she has been living like a ghost for the past years of her life, constantly wandering with no purpose. She desperately sought something, something she's never been able to find that would chase away her saddness and pain, but she never found it out.
All of her experiences were but temporary flames, anything that could make her feel alive again.
But in the end, the same patterns kept repeating themselves. Friends and lovers were all abandonned, again and again, because this feeling kept coming back to her, haunting her constantly, filling her heart and snuffing out the flame of happiness she constantly struggles to keep alive.
It was fear. The fear of growing too attached to them and losing them like she lost her brother.
It was irrational, Mimiru couldn't explain it, but this fear was always there. Looking back at all the things she had done, how she abandonned so many persons... It makes her feel like an horrible person.
Her smile falters a bit as she continues to look at her reflection in the tea. This was the Mimiru she had become and she had no idea how to change herself. This fear was so unbearable it was the only solution she had found.
Looking back at Alma, Mimiru says weakly, "I wish I was a little less like me..."
Never looking back, no regret. That is how Mimiru has lived. Only because she knows that looking back would only pain her and make her doubt.
Mimiru lets go of her cup of tea and she slowly rises up from her seat. She makes her way toward Alma, her hands reaching out for his, trying to guide him back up on his feet.
Mimiru leans down as she reaches for Alma and she whispers to him, "Let me show you, Alma..."
Mimiru shivers at the thought, her heart pounding in her chest. Her body was aching, she needed this, to soothe the pain, to forget everything.
There was no turning back now. Mimiru felt the need, the urge for it, her body craved this dose, needed this remedy to wash away this heart ache.
Alma doesn't know what he should do.
His faith has nothing to offer him here. No overpowering desire compels him. He simply cannot know what Mimiru needs right now, or even what he needs. He cannot know what will bring them closer together and what will drive them apart. In spiritual matters, it is obvious to him. Now, he feels completely adrift.
It's neither good nor bad, pleasant nor unpleasant. But it is different.
When Mimiru reaches for him, he watches his hands rise as though they belong to someone else. When she takes his hands, he rises as though weightless, feeling himself float to his feet. The experience is neither unsettling nor gratifying. It simply is what it is.
Alma's expression of conviction has faded. His lips have parted as though to speak, but he hears no words emerge. His eyes are aware yet innocent. He has set foot into a realm he knows nothing of. He has no means by which to judge it.
So he lets judgment go.
He relinquishes control of those hands of his, and they move as though of their own volition to embrace her. Gently he pulls Mimiru close. One hand rises to place a finger with a feather touch under her chin, easing her lips upward toward his.
When he kisses her, a single desire at last emerges coherent from the fog:
Whatever happens, he doesn't want to let her go.
Feeling Alma's body pulling closer to her filled her with excitment. Her heart races in her chest, the thrill slowly making the fear and pain go away, the passion and intensity of this moment overcoming all her other feelings.
His initiative causes Mimiru's smile to widen a bit playfully. Somehow, she had not expected that of Alma. Perhaps she was about to see a side of Alma she had never thought he possessed. She lifts her chin up a bit with his gentle touch, her blue eyes filled with lust and passion.
It was too late for regrets now, too late to look back. The object of her desire was right before her, and nothing would stand in the way of her passion.
Mimiru's arms slowly complete his embrace, one hand going around his waist to hold on to him. Her other hand goes up to caress his neck gently.
Mimiru lets him do the first move : he was already doing it on his own, and so she gives him that moment, closing her eyes to taste this soft kiss, lips touching gently. Her hand fingers slide further to caress his hair behind his head, holding on to him. She presses the kiss further, more fiercely, suckling on his lips. Her lips part to let her tongue slide out, trying to force it into Alma's mouth and let it swirl inside of his mouth.
The girl is more or less giving in to her needs and wants. She presses herself against the taller man, probably forcing him to take a few steps back as she tries to guide him somewhere in his airplane room.
Maybe she is poisonous.
Sweet intoxication numbs Alma's brain and trickles down his spine, spreading through his still-weightless body. He is clumsy, but patient, not overeager like a young boy. There is time, though he has forgotten it. He holds fast simply to that one desire: to be close to her now, to bring her as close as he can, whatever that means, whatever the consequences.
Having made that choice, the rest will come.
He allows the younger, more experienced woman to do what she will, and for the first time, though he will not realize it until much later, his psychic senses blur into insignificance in favor of his sensual experience. Touch, smell, taste, all outshine the play of auras between them despite their vibrance. The physical, the carnal, takes priority.
Pushed to the corner of the room, Mimiru in his arms, Alma falls backward onto softness and then falls still, endlessly, the floor has giving way to the open sky.
They descend together.
Log created on 12:31:12 08/20/2014 by Alma, and last modified on 19:08:32 09/18/2014.