Have a fic AND a meme!
Sep. 17th, 2010 05:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chieriiFirst, the meme:
And now the fic:
Title: Mementos
Rating: G
Category: Gen
Source: Imagine/![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smtdressingroom
Characters: Izumi
Warnings: Rambling stream of consciousness, angst.
“Are you Miss Izumi Kobayashi?” A shadow loomed over the Demon Buster and her Angel partner, in the bright light of Shinjuku Babel. Izumi looked up from her seat on the stairs to see a professionally-dressed man carrying a briefcase adorned with the seal of the Commune.
“I am, sir,” she said, standing up to bow politely in greeting.
The man returned the bow. “My name is Uchida. I’m from the Shinjuku Babel Housing Department.”
“What can I help you with, Mr. Uchida?”
“Your mother’s name is Miharu Kobayashi, correct?”
Izumi felt cold apprehension creep into her heart at the mention of her mother. She’d had enough bad news delivered this way. “Yes, sir.”
“You didn’t inform us she’d left her residence.”
“I…” The tightness in her chest eased a bit. For a moment, she’d wondered if her mother, too, had died. “It was an emotional moment. I forgot to report the vacancy. I’m sorry.”
“In any case, we need to clear the apartment for a new resident. If there is anything of hers you want to take for yourself, now is the time to do it. Everything else removed from that apartment will be broken down and recycled.”
Izumi didn’t want any reminders of her mother’s half-wild, teary-eyed stare. “You haven’t asked her?”
“We managed to get in touch with her, she’s at Home III now, but she vehemently denies ever having owned a residence in Shinjuku Babel, much less wanting to recover abandoned belongings.”
Angel made a soft sound, putting a sympathetic hand on Izumi’s shoulder. The Messian herself looked down at the ground. “I see… Could you please take me there?”
Uchida nodded. “Of course. Please come with me.”
The Commune worker led Izumi to the elevator, where they ascended to the residential district. As they walked through the streets, brightly-lit in a shade meant to mimic natural sunlight, Izumi remembered that day, the day her mother ran from her, the day everything had changed.
In a sense, Izumi couldn’t feel too badly about the way her mother had acted. It was because of that event she had found that other world, so wonderful and dangerous in a way entirely different than this one. It was because of that event she had met Dominion, and experienced feelings she’d thought were too damaged from Ryo’s betrayal, somehow even stronger than before.
Speaking of her relationship with Dominion, she had never learned the outcome of Uriel’s report to his original. Perhaps it was overlooked, the love life of one human too minor for the heavenly host to pay any mind to. But if that was the case, would she have been directly punished for that initial night with Dominion, fueled by the other world’s psychological effects? Maybe Uriel hadn’t reported, afraid of the results himself. Or maybe the report was accepted favorably, and the angels in this world were willing to dismiss the issue in favor of things more important. After all, the angel in question wasn’t even native to this world. But even so…why had she been allowed to retain her official affiliation with the Messian Church if she was known to have a sexually active relationship with an angel of a commanding rank? She hadn’t even been summoned for an audience with a church official, nor had the original Uriel spoken to her again. Had Uriel perhaps not informed the Archbishop? That seemed to be the most likely scenario. After all, Judah hadn’t even mentioned anything about her…relations in the first place. Uriel had shown recognition of it, though. It made sense, for Uriel to keep things from Judah. This probably wasn’t seen as something the human world needed to deal with.
She wondered sometimes, given how fortuitous it all was, if it was somehow God’s plan for her, but…no, there was no way He would plan for a human to fall in love with an angel. This couldn’t be right, but, by the same token, could it possibly be wrong? Love was love, no matter what, and didn’t God approve of love? She was a preacher, these were the things she had to make sense of for other peoples’ sake, but this one question eluded her, too personal to examine in detail.
It was in her genes to run away from her emotional issues rather than confront them. Her mother, after all, couldn’t stand to see her husband’s blue eyes staring back at her when she looked at Izumi. It had been years, and she hadn’t moved on. And if what Uchida said was true, she was slipping further and further into a near-maniacal depression, even though she had removed herself completely now from all reminders of her family.
The sound of the card reader on the door beeping in acknowledgment of Uchida’s entry key brought Izumi back to reality. The businessman opened the door for her, and gestured for her to enter.
Inside, a fine layer of dust clung to everything, but other than that, every object was in perfect order. It wasn’t at all obvious that the owner had been emotionally disturbed. The majority of the personal belongings were pots, pans, articles of clothing, and other things Izumi had no particular need of. Uchida followed behind her at a respectful distance as she and Angel sorted through everything, moving methodically from room to room.
And then it hit her. This was a multi-room apartment. Her mother must have used the rest of her father’s savings just to live in this place. She had never been a greedy woman, and Izumi could even faintly recall a time, she couldn’t for the life of her remember when, or where exactly, when she and her family had shared lodgings with another family of three. Her mother had never complained.
Before she could begin to make sense of it all, Izumi pushed open the door to the small bedroom. She felt the stirring of air from Angel’s wings behind her stop suddenly, the Divine’s chain clinking quietly against itself in the sudden silence.
The floor was not visible for all the food containers and pieces of paper strewn about, the bed looked more like a storage shelf for what excess couldn’t fit on the desktop below. Izumi’s eyes traveled to her feet, and right there at the toes of her boots was a cracked picture frame, inside a hand-painted portrait, synthetic paint still true to color.
She bent down to pick it up, holding it carefully. The portrait was of a man in his early thirties sitting in a chair, smiling kindly, his eyes painted with a violet-blue color, looking so much like her own in their sympathetic gaze, almost seeming perpetually sorrowful. On his lap was a young girl with long, black hair, messy in the front just like his. Izumi reached up to touch the part of her bangs that still always came down over her eyes no matter what she did. The rest had tamed itself as she grew, becoming neat and low-maintenance like her mother’s.
“Excuse me. I’ll wait outside, Miss Kobayashi,” Uchida said behind her. She heard him, but didn’t acknowledge him as he left.
Someone had stood behind the seated man, hands on his shoulders. But the portrait above the top of his head had been cut off.
“If she couldn’t stand to see his eyes in you, why did she keep this?” Angel asked, breaking the silence. Izumi drew a breath for the first time in what felt like several minutes, turning her head to sneeze at the dust.
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Maybe…she found it recently.” She quickly stored the half-portrait in her COMP before her falling tears could stain it.
“Let’s leave, give everything to the Commune. Maybe it’s best you separate yourself from this, too.”
“No,” Izumi shook her head. “No. I need to know why…what was she thinking?” Pressing her lips tightly together in determination, she made her way to the desk. Angel followed mutely, staying at her side.
The desk was piled high with things: the ever-present food containers (when had her mother become such a slob?), various papers of many natures, and a thick Bible sandwiched between it all. Izumi carefully removed this, and ran her finger along the raised gold kanji on the spine that read “Kobayashi”. The once jet-black cover was stained with food and drink.
“Mom, how could you do this to a war hero’s gift?” she whispered, putting it, too, into storage. Just before it vanished into COMPspace, though, a smaller, slender paperback fell from inside of it as it dematerialized. Izumi knelt to pick this up.
She remembered this book. She could see her mother, in older days, when she was healthier, energetic and loving, sitting with this book in front of her, pen scratching away.
“What is it?” Angel asked quietly.
“Her diary,” Izumi said, her hands shaking as she flipped it open from the back to find its last entry.
It was dated for three years ago. Two words stood out in black ink on the off-white page, written small with a shaky hand.
”He’s gone.”
Izumi stared at the page, feeling her stomach and chest tighten, tears stinging her eyes. Her mother had learned several months before she had.
The cold metal chain hanging from Angel’s neck pressed into her back as her otherworldly guardian hugged her from behind, and she felt the tears rolling warm down her face.
“Angel, I don’t know what to do with this…” It was the last memento of her mother’s sane thoughts, but keeping them would only remind her the woman who had taught her everything her father wouldn’t was now a miserable hermit in Home III. On the other hand, was it right to give this over to the Commune, let them recycle it? It was valuable paper, but it was more than just paper.
“Keep it,” the Divine said, releasing Izumi from the hug and flying backwards a bit. “There’s more than enough paper here to donate.”
Izumi nodded, and stored the diary, too. The air was heavy with nothingness, weighing her limbs down now.
“Do you still think you need to know why?”
“…No. I’ve seen enough.” Angel offered no comment as she walked away, through the door, into the living room, out the front door.
“Ah, Miss Kobayashi. Did you recover what you wanted?” Uchida was waiting for her outside, as he’d said.
Izumi nodded. “Everything in there is the Commune’s to take.”
“Thank you for the generous donation of materials,” Uchida said automatically, smiling a bit ironically at the rehearsed line. He opened his briefcase and took out a miniature terminal. “Please connect your COMP to sign it over.”
Izumi did as she was asked, confirming the transfer of possessions without reading over the agreement that reminded her the woman that was supposed to do this wasn’t mentally capable of doing so.
“Thank you.” Uchida bowed. “Continue to fight for our safety, Demon Buster Kobayashi.”
“I will,” Izumi said, grateful to fall back on etiquette as she returned the farewell bow.
After Uchida had walked away, Izumi wandered back to the elevator, taking it back down to the market district. She’d made her way through the throng of DBs and demons around the Home Point and connected to it before she realized she’d done so. She stared at the teleportation option on her screen.
“Are you going to confront her?” Angel asked.
Izumi looked down. “I…I want to try.”
“I’m behind you all the way. You know that.”
“Thank you, Angel.”
Before she went, she pulled the half-portrait from her COMP, gazing on her father’s face once more before she returned her attention to the connection to the Home Point.
Still holding the portrait in her hand, Izumi confirmed the teleportation, closing her eyes as the data network took her body like her COMP took a demon’s, giving in to the floating sensation of being literally nothing. It would only last a few moments longer, and then she’d be able to put an end to this self-inflicted cycle of pain between them. She’d be able to get her family back.
And now the fic:
Title: Mementos
Rating: G
Category: Gen
Source: Imagine/
smtdressingroomCharacters: Izumi
Warnings: Rambling stream of consciousness, angst.
“Are you Miss Izumi Kobayashi?” A shadow loomed over the Demon Buster and her Angel partner, in the bright light of Shinjuku Babel. Izumi looked up from her seat on the stairs to see a professionally-dressed man carrying a briefcase adorned with the seal of the Commune.
“I am, sir,” she said, standing up to bow politely in greeting.
The man returned the bow. “My name is Uchida. I’m from the Shinjuku Babel Housing Department.”
“What can I help you with, Mr. Uchida?”
“Your mother’s name is Miharu Kobayashi, correct?”
Izumi felt cold apprehension creep into her heart at the mention of her mother. She’d had enough bad news delivered this way. “Yes, sir.”
“You didn’t inform us she’d left her residence.”
“I…” The tightness in her chest eased a bit. For a moment, she’d wondered if her mother, too, had died. “It was an emotional moment. I forgot to report the vacancy. I’m sorry.”
“In any case, we need to clear the apartment for a new resident. If there is anything of hers you want to take for yourself, now is the time to do it. Everything else removed from that apartment will be broken down and recycled.”
Izumi didn’t want any reminders of her mother’s half-wild, teary-eyed stare. “You haven’t asked her?”
“We managed to get in touch with her, she’s at Home III now, but she vehemently denies ever having owned a residence in Shinjuku Babel, much less wanting to recover abandoned belongings.”
Angel made a soft sound, putting a sympathetic hand on Izumi’s shoulder. The Messian herself looked down at the ground. “I see… Could you please take me there?”
Uchida nodded. “Of course. Please come with me.”
The Commune worker led Izumi to the elevator, where they ascended to the residential district. As they walked through the streets, brightly-lit in a shade meant to mimic natural sunlight, Izumi remembered that day, the day her mother ran from her, the day everything had changed.
In a sense, Izumi couldn’t feel too badly about the way her mother had acted. It was because of that event she had found that other world, so wonderful and dangerous in a way entirely different than this one. It was because of that event she had met Dominion, and experienced feelings she’d thought were too damaged from Ryo’s betrayal, somehow even stronger than before.
Speaking of her relationship with Dominion, she had never learned the outcome of Uriel’s report to his original. Perhaps it was overlooked, the love life of one human too minor for the heavenly host to pay any mind to. But if that was the case, would she have been directly punished for that initial night with Dominion, fueled by the other world’s psychological effects? Maybe Uriel hadn’t reported, afraid of the results himself. Or maybe the report was accepted favorably, and the angels in this world were willing to dismiss the issue in favor of things more important. After all, the angel in question wasn’t even native to this world. But even so…why had she been allowed to retain her official affiliation with the Messian Church if she was known to have a sexually active relationship with an angel of a commanding rank? She hadn’t even been summoned for an audience with a church official, nor had the original Uriel spoken to her again. Had Uriel perhaps not informed the Archbishop? That seemed to be the most likely scenario. After all, Judah hadn’t even mentioned anything about her…relations in the first place. Uriel had shown recognition of it, though. It made sense, for Uriel to keep things from Judah. This probably wasn’t seen as something the human world needed to deal with.
She wondered sometimes, given how fortuitous it all was, if it was somehow God’s plan for her, but…no, there was no way He would plan for a human to fall in love with an angel. This couldn’t be right, but, by the same token, could it possibly be wrong? Love was love, no matter what, and didn’t God approve of love? She was a preacher, these were the things she had to make sense of for other peoples’ sake, but this one question eluded her, too personal to examine in detail.
It was in her genes to run away from her emotional issues rather than confront them. Her mother, after all, couldn’t stand to see her husband’s blue eyes staring back at her when she looked at Izumi. It had been years, and she hadn’t moved on. And if what Uchida said was true, she was slipping further and further into a near-maniacal depression, even though she had removed herself completely now from all reminders of her family.
The sound of the card reader on the door beeping in acknowledgment of Uchida’s entry key brought Izumi back to reality. The businessman opened the door for her, and gestured for her to enter.
Inside, a fine layer of dust clung to everything, but other than that, every object was in perfect order. It wasn’t at all obvious that the owner had been emotionally disturbed. The majority of the personal belongings were pots, pans, articles of clothing, and other things Izumi had no particular need of. Uchida followed behind her at a respectful distance as she and Angel sorted through everything, moving methodically from room to room.
And then it hit her. This was a multi-room apartment. Her mother must have used the rest of her father’s savings just to live in this place. She had never been a greedy woman, and Izumi could even faintly recall a time, she couldn’t for the life of her remember when, or where exactly, when she and her family had shared lodgings with another family of three. Her mother had never complained.
Before she could begin to make sense of it all, Izumi pushed open the door to the small bedroom. She felt the stirring of air from Angel’s wings behind her stop suddenly, the Divine’s chain clinking quietly against itself in the sudden silence.
The floor was not visible for all the food containers and pieces of paper strewn about, the bed looked more like a storage shelf for what excess couldn’t fit on the desktop below. Izumi’s eyes traveled to her feet, and right there at the toes of her boots was a cracked picture frame, inside a hand-painted portrait, synthetic paint still true to color.
She bent down to pick it up, holding it carefully. The portrait was of a man in his early thirties sitting in a chair, smiling kindly, his eyes painted with a violet-blue color, looking so much like her own in their sympathetic gaze, almost seeming perpetually sorrowful. On his lap was a young girl with long, black hair, messy in the front just like his. Izumi reached up to touch the part of her bangs that still always came down over her eyes no matter what she did. The rest had tamed itself as she grew, becoming neat and low-maintenance like her mother’s.
“Excuse me. I’ll wait outside, Miss Kobayashi,” Uchida said behind her. She heard him, but didn’t acknowledge him as he left.
Someone had stood behind the seated man, hands on his shoulders. But the portrait above the top of his head had been cut off.
“If she couldn’t stand to see his eyes in you, why did she keep this?” Angel asked, breaking the silence. Izumi drew a breath for the first time in what felt like several minutes, turning her head to sneeze at the dust.
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Maybe…she found it recently.” She quickly stored the half-portrait in her COMP before her falling tears could stain it.
“Let’s leave, give everything to the Commune. Maybe it’s best you separate yourself from this, too.”
“No,” Izumi shook her head. “No. I need to know why…what was she thinking?” Pressing her lips tightly together in determination, she made her way to the desk. Angel followed mutely, staying at her side.
The desk was piled high with things: the ever-present food containers (when had her mother become such a slob?), various papers of many natures, and a thick Bible sandwiched between it all. Izumi carefully removed this, and ran her finger along the raised gold kanji on the spine that read “Kobayashi”. The once jet-black cover was stained with food and drink.
“Mom, how could you do this to a war hero’s gift?” she whispered, putting it, too, into storage. Just before it vanished into COMPspace, though, a smaller, slender paperback fell from inside of it as it dematerialized. Izumi knelt to pick this up.
She remembered this book. She could see her mother, in older days, when she was healthier, energetic and loving, sitting with this book in front of her, pen scratching away.
“What is it?” Angel asked quietly.
“Her diary,” Izumi said, her hands shaking as she flipped it open from the back to find its last entry.
It was dated for three years ago. Two words stood out in black ink on the off-white page, written small with a shaky hand.
”He’s gone.”
Izumi stared at the page, feeling her stomach and chest tighten, tears stinging her eyes. Her mother had learned several months before she had.
The cold metal chain hanging from Angel’s neck pressed into her back as her otherworldly guardian hugged her from behind, and she felt the tears rolling warm down her face.
“Angel, I don’t know what to do with this…” It was the last memento of her mother’s sane thoughts, but keeping them would only remind her the woman who had taught her everything her father wouldn’t was now a miserable hermit in Home III. On the other hand, was it right to give this over to the Commune, let them recycle it? It was valuable paper, but it was more than just paper.
“Keep it,” the Divine said, releasing Izumi from the hug and flying backwards a bit. “There’s more than enough paper here to donate.”
Izumi nodded, and stored the diary, too. The air was heavy with nothingness, weighing her limbs down now.
“Do you still think you need to know why?”
“…No. I’ve seen enough.” Angel offered no comment as she walked away, through the door, into the living room, out the front door.
“Ah, Miss Kobayashi. Did you recover what you wanted?” Uchida was waiting for her outside, as he’d said.
Izumi nodded. “Everything in there is the Commune’s to take.”
“Thank you for the generous donation of materials,” Uchida said automatically, smiling a bit ironically at the rehearsed line. He opened his briefcase and took out a miniature terminal. “Please connect your COMP to sign it over.”
Izumi did as she was asked, confirming the transfer of possessions without reading over the agreement that reminded her the woman that was supposed to do this wasn’t mentally capable of doing so.
“Thank you.” Uchida bowed. “Continue to fight for our safety, Demon Buster Kobayashi.”
“I will,” Izumi said, grateful to fall back on etiquette as she returned the farewell bow.
After Uchida had walked away, Izumi wandered back to the elevator, taking it back down to the market district. She’d made her way through the throng of DBs and demons around the Home Point and connected to it before she realized she’d done so. She stared at the teleportation option on her screen.
“Are you going to confront her?” Angel asked.
Izumi looked down. “I…I want to try.”
“I’m behind you all the way. You know that.”
“Thank you, Angel.”
Before she went, she pulled the half-portrait from her COMP, gazing on her father’s face once more before she returned her attention to the connection to the Home Point.
Still holding the portrait in her hand, Izumi confirmed the teleportation, closing her eyes as the data network took her body like her COMP took a demon’s, giving in to the floating sensation of being literally nothing. It would only last a few moments longer, and then she’d be able to put an end to this self-inflicted cycle of pain between them. She’d be able to get her family back.
