Fioro, Outskirts
As he stops the car, Kuro feels his heartbeat thundering against his eardrums. Within the noticeably silence, devoid of the car’s quiet engine, he forces himself to breathe slowly as he leans his head back against the driver seat and closes his eyes briefly.
Punching her wasn’t exactly his intention, only to give her frustration a way out, but once she came at him with everything…
Kuro allows a smile to play over his lips as an image of Seijuro appears in his mind, fire blazing in her dark eyes, fury written all over her face. Her movements, her body…
This time, he’d cage her against the wall, stopping her fruitless attempts at scaping, and once she found herself hopeless, he’d slowly approach his lips from hers…
Kuro abruptly opens his eyes, blood rushing through his ears. The car, which in the past was often a place of comfort for him, suddenly feels cramped, as if its metal walls are rapidly closing in.
It, he realizes, still smells faintly of her perfume.
In a swift, almost desperate movement, Kuro opens the door and steps outside. Only after a gulf of morning air has entered his longs, does Kuro run his hand through his sweaty hair and breaths with relief again, leaning against the car.
Gods, he’s made a mess of it this time, hasn’t he? What would they think, if they saw him in this situation, hopelessly falling for the person he’s supposed to protect with his life?
“Sir? I don’t… I don’t think you’re allowed to park in here.”
For the first time in a while, Kuro raises his head to pay attention to his surroundings; Another mistake, proof life in Fioro has made him soft. A couple of years ago, he’d have never allowed someone to approach him without being noticed.
Kuro shakes his head, laughing softly.
“Sir?”
“I heard you.”
Around, warehouses and factories have replaced Fioro’s usual futuristic view, and an open gate nearby showcases several machines as they help to load a floating vehicle vaguely resembling a truck, which is from where, Kuro assumes, the man has come.
Kuro inspects the hesitant man in front of him- Or, as he realizes after a moment, the boy, who might have reminded him of one of Seijuro’s classmates, if not for the grotesquely colored uniform covering his body.
As the boy stares at him with huge eyes and seems ready to bolt in the other direction, Kuro reaches inside his pocket only to remember he stopped smoking more than four years ago, when he was first assigned to take care of a much younger and not at all easier to deal with Seijuro.
“Got a smoke?”
The boy nearly jumps. “A s-smoke?”
Kuro rolls his eyes. “Yes! A tube, a tab, a burn? You know…”
Seeing the empty gaze caused by his words, Kuro mimics lighting something with his hands, which finally seems to illuminate the boy’s expression.
“Oh, you mean a cigarette?”
“Do you have one or not?”
The boy gives Kuro a strange look. “I… do believe they were banned in Elysium before I was born.”
Kuro curses something in his original language which would have made most people from his homeland blush.
“Of course they were.”
After a moment, seeing the boy still standing there idly, he waves his hand with annoyance. “Stop pestering me. Do you even know who this car belongs to?”
“Princess Seijuro?” the boy replies as he glances in between Kuro and the car, suddenly becoming excited, “Is she inside?!”
“No,” Kuro retorts abruptly.
“Oh.” The boy’s disappointment is clear in his expression. “You’re her famous bodyguard, aren’t you? The one who came from another country?”
“Something like that.”
“Are you sure she isn’t inside?”
“Yes!” Kure answers, the approaching end of his patience finally showing in his voice.
“Then… I don’t think you’re allowed to park in here. Some of the machines, you know… They kinda need the space to take off sometimes. Or to land.”
Kuro scans his gaze over the large, empty street surrounded by warehouses and factories, noticing the lack of living creatures for as far as his eyes can see, except for the occasional workers wearing uniforms similar to the one covering the boy’s body. In the distance, Fioro’s skyscrapers seem to cover the horizon, which is punctuated by metallic objects. As he watches, another “truck” takes flight from a warehouse nearby, surprisingly silent.
Once Kuro’s eyes find him again, the boy smiles awkwardly; A smile which Kuro has no intentions of reciprocating.
“Shouldn’t you be at school or something?”
The boy laughs. “People always tell me I look younger than I actually am. But I finished school last year.”
“And this is what you wanted to do? What do you do around here, anyway?”
The boy’s expression falls somewhat as he glances at his surroundings, and then towards his uniform. “Want might be a strong word in this case.” He shrugs. “But the hours aren’t that bad, and it pays enough. As for what we do around here… Well, sometimes the loaders drop packages, or one of the trucks doesn’t work properly. We just make sure things run smoothly, and deliveries are going to where they’re supposed to.”
“Why this, and not something else?”
The boy shrugs again. “I need some credits, obviously, but not a whole lot of them, just enough to go out with my friends and party. Buy a couple of luxuries... I mean, this is easy, and it doesn’t take all of my time.”
Kuro scratches his head. “It sounds…”
“Pitiful? Pathetic?” the boy says with a laugh, causing Kuro to raise his eyebrow. “Don’t feel bad for me, this was my choice. I have no talents, and I’m not particularly smart. Trying to compete there,” the boy says as he nods with his head towards the city, “Would only have hurt me. And besides, boring as it may be, somebody needs to get the job done around here.”
“Well, I was going to say it sounds very mature. Not everyone…” Kuro’s voice fades as he tries to think of something comforting to say, but can’t find the words.
Seijuro is right, he’s terrible at this.
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Seeing his obvious struggle, the boy looks down, his smile disappearing. “I understand. Not everyone can have a place at the top. But like I said,” he continues as he raises his head again, “I don’t need your pity, Sir.”
Kuro nods, stepping away from the car at last. “Don’t worry, I’ll move it.”
He turns and presses his digital against the door handle, causing it to open soundlessly after a second. But something makes him stop and glance over his shoulder before entering the car; Perhaps Seijuro’s perfume still emanating faintly from it, perhaps the memory of the talk they had about friendship days ago. Kuro had lied to her then, but the conversation stayed with him.
The boy has yet to move.
“From where I came from, people have to fight every day just to find something to eat; Simply to stay alive. I don’t know if it makes you feel any better or not… But things could certainly be worse for you.”
“I know. Thanks, and… I’m sorry you had to go through something like that, Sir.”
Kuro gives the boy a wink. “I’m a big boy.”
And yet, once more he hesitates to enter the car, which earns him another strange look. Kuro clears his throat. “Tell me, have you ever wondered how the princess’s car looks from the inside?”
The boy’s jaw falls.
***
Earth In Words Institute, Advanced Modern Fashion Classroom
Melinda taps her feet against the ground impatiently as the woman’s words fluctuate in and out of focus over the sound of her grinding teeth.
The sofas adjacent to hers have mercifully stayed empty since no one would risk taking Seijuro’s place, but the princess’s absence seems to be a problem in and on itself, attracting conspirative looks and whispers from the rest of the room.
For what seems like the thousandth time since class started, Melinda debates giving said princess a connection request, but figures that if she didn’t show up yet, she probably has a good reason not to…
As a familiar head suddenly appears coming up the stairs in the middle of the class, Melinda sighs with relief; That is, until she gets a good look at Seijuro’s appearance, and rises from her seat reflexively.
Seijuro stops in front of the class. Under her sunglasses, the room becomes dead silent, though her gaze seems lost somewhere, and not particularly focused on anyone.
“Sorry for being late,” the princess starts with a slightly hoarse voice, “And for interrupting. Won’t happen in the future, you have my word.”
“O-of course, Miss Aston, we all have unpredictable delays happen to us every now and then! Why don’t you take a seat a enjoy the rest-”
But Seijuro is already moving, walking through the rows of sofas as she does everything else; with her head held high, without ever looking back.
Melinda quickly retakes her seat as the princess sits by her side, ignoring the looks thrown in their direction.
“What. The. Fuck?” Melinda murmurs through a strained smile.
“Good morning. Sorry for leaving you alone today, I know you don’t exactly enjoy the club.”
“Seijuro, you sound like a fucking bad AI!” Melinda continues, now throwing daggers toward some of the more insistent onlookers as her patience reaches its limits, “And you’re dressed for a funeral!”
Seijuro’s lips quirk up ever so slightly, almost morbidly so. “For a funeral… Not far from the truth, I suppose.”
Her stomach sinking, Melinda takes another glance around the large room. “Okay, I won’t ask, because it’s obvious you’re not okay. Instead, tell me this: Would you rather have me take you out of here, or stay and pretend everything is fine until we have a chance to talk in private?”
For a long moment, Seijuro doesn’t speak, her gaze downcast as she knits her eyebrows. “I... I don’t know. You’re right in that I’m not fine, but I don’t think a different location would matter. Could you… Could we talk about something? Anything?”
Melinda smiles, even as she holds in the desire to scream in panic.
“Okay, I can do that.”
A topic. She needs to come up with a topic. Hopefully something unrelated to whatever caused Seijuro to become like this…
“H-have you spoken with Beatrice lately? How is she?”
Once more, Seijuro produces her morbid smile. “We were walking together to class, actually. She liked my clothes… Unlike a certain someone.”
Melinda holds in a sigh of relief. Safe topics. Stick to safe topics.
“Have they managed to fix her nose?”
“They did a good job. Shame they can’t fix her insecurities as easily,” Seijuro murmurs, releasing a sigh.
“Something happened? I mean, you arrived by yourself.”
“She ran away from me… Quite literally, in fact. I supposed being a friend is among the handful of things I’m not particularly good at.”
A friend? Since when did- No, forget it. Safe topics.
However, before Melinda is able to come up with another subject, Seijuro speaks again, “Oh, speaking of the devil.”
“Beatrice?” the teacher calls toward the blond head slowly climbing to the top of the stairs.
Beatrice's swollen eyes inspect the room. Different from Seijuro, she barely gives the teacher a glance before heading into the rows of sofas. Melinda raises her eyebrow as the shorter girl approaches them, and Seijuro simply watches silently, showing no reaction.
Apparently, the teacher seems to know better than to comment on it, since the lecture restarts, hesitantly, as soon as Beatrice has silently taken her seat beside Seijuro, not quite touching the other girl as she usually might have.
Melinda watches, bewildered, as the petite girl adopts a straight posture, crossing her hands over her lap and staring straight ahead. Her eyes are red, and it doesn’t take a whole lot to realize she has been crying.
After glancing in between the two – both of whom seem determined to ignore each other’s existence – Melinda touches her own forehead, feeling a headache coming.
“So…”
“I’m an idiot,” Beatrice cuts in, “A hopeless, unsavable idiot.”
Seijuro smiles, surprising Melinda by how the expression seems a bit more real than it did moments prior.
“If you meant that as an apology, then I also apologize.”
“You… You don’t hate me?”
Beatrice stirs in her seat to give Seijuro what Melinda can only describe as the sidelong glance equivalent to a dog laying down to show its belly, ears lowered and puppy eyes shining with faint hope.
“Not any more than I did this morning.”
Beatrice blinks, her eyes quickly filling with tears as she quickly averts them toward the front of the room once more. From behind her sunglasses, the princess smiles.
Speechless, Melinda finds herself blinking rapidly in an attempt to process the chain of events displayed before her eyes.
“…I get it! She’s like a pet!”
Seijuro and Beatrice turn their gazes to Melinda, as well as about half their classmates, and both of their teachers.
Beatrice’s face grows red, her eyes igniting. “May I know who exactly you are referring to as a pet?”
“I… I meant it in an endearing way?”
“Like hell you did. You meant Seijuro caught me off the street like some abandoned dog!”
Melinda hears the rushing of blood in her ears, the sudden silence of her surroundings as the teacher stops in the middle of a sentence. Now, they’re definitely the center of the room’s attention.
“Beatrice, look, I’m sorry-”
“No, you’re not! You know what, Melinda?! I’m tired of trying to be your friend! You’re rude, and-”
Beatrice freezes midsentence as Seijuro presses a finger against her lips, before giving Melinda a glance she recognizes as exasperated even from behind the princess’s dark lenses.
“Beatrice, I don’t think of you as my pet. Now, would you both cease this foolishness lest we find ourselves kicked from class?”
Once both girls avert their gazes, ashamed, Seijuro clears her throat and speaks loudly, “I apologize for my friends. Please, continue.”
As the room's attention gradually dispersers, Seijuro murmurs, “Make up. I don’t care, just… Make up, the both of you.”
For a long moment, neither Melinda nor Beatrice speaks, the latter refusing to even look in Melinda’s direction.
Realizing she’ll never hear the end of it if she allows Beatrice to act as the more mature one in between the two of them, Melinda sighs. “Okay, fine. Beatrice, I’m sorry for calling you a pet. As… Surprising as it may seem, I suppose Seijuro has come to consider you a friend, and I’ll respect her wishes from now on.”
Beatrice snorts.
“And… I apologize for yesterday. You tried to cheer me up, and I threw it in your face.”
Her arms crossed, Melinda spots as the petite girl clenches her hand.
“And… You know, for treating you like thrash this whole time. You only deserved some of that.”
Beatrice gives Melinda a sidelong glance, though she still doesn’t speak immediately, flickering her gaze in Seijuro’s direction before doing so.
“I suppose… I suppose I wouldn’t mind being reborn as a pet if Seijuro was my owner.”
Seijuro freezes, as Melinda coughs silently against her closed fist in order to hide her laughter.
“Well, you have that in common with most of the boys in our school, and about a third of the girls, according to last year’s inquiry.”
“I told you to never mention that again!” Seijuro hisses, “I can’t believe they asked something like that! What sort of- How is that an even remotely relevant question?!”
Beatrice flattens her lips, her own attempt at hiding her laughter obvious.
“I don’t know. Maybe the school planned to have a day where we all pretend to be your pets?”
“They… They wouldn’t dare, right? M-maybe I should speak with Adela just to make sure…?”
“It could be, you know, a holiday or something. Dog ears for the boys, cat ears for the girls, and we all crawl around Seijuro while she pets our heads and scratches behind our ears…”
“Pet day!”
Seijuro groans, holding her face in her hands as she murmurs against them, “Gods, I can see it… It’s like a nightmare…”
Melinda and Beatrice share a conspiratorial glance as the petite rolls her eyes.
Fine, she mimics, I’ll put aside our differences for Seijuro’s sake.
How magnanimous of you, Melinda mimics back, only to have Beatrice stick her tongue at her.
And, as they settle their differences, both girls move their gaze in the princess’s direction.
She deserves good friends, Beatrice mimics, giving Melinda a meaningful look.
…Yes. Yes, she does.