Nihi, this was actually written before Kubo showed us Riruka's backstory~~ Funny how in this fanfiction she collects random trinkets and in the manga she collects hotties :D :D ah well, close enough :D
Discl.: No ownage~
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Which of them all beginnings?
*~Exordium~*
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the only rattling cages are her own
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Yukio looks deadly pale on the bed, hidden under thousands of quilts, in a cruel parody of everything she – used to – hate. Humans meddling in her business, humans making trouble, humans being useless, humans making her feel… humans on the whole.
/humans being so damn mortal…
Why must she feel so guilty?/
The rattle of high-heeled boots alarm her that Jackie's approaching, but she doesn't even as much lift her head. However, a sudden weight startles her as the taller woman rests a hand on her shoulder for comfort.
Comfort she doesn't need.
She shakes the warm hand off, albeit in quite a half-hearted way. Her eyes don't leave his face. His small, pale face.
Oh, yeah, another thing she hated about him. His eyes, closed as though he is sleeping but much, much worse. And the salt leaking from beneath her lids is pretty annoying too.
Jackie has enough common sense to leave her to herself.
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…
She doesn't leave his side the next few days. At day, she'll tend to him and help the nurses (and yell at them more often than not) and sit by his bedside and by night, she'll fall asleep, nestled in her own hands, on his bed, hoping that a certain cliché will work and she'll wake up to a grumbling – what is his name anyway?
Yukio. Right, Yukio.
Doesn't that idiot know how it's done? The girl should fall asleep on the boy's bed and the next morning the boy should wake up to find her sleeping, using her own hands as a pillow, having proven herself as a good caretaker, tied emotionally to him. He would gaze at her lovingly, take her hand and fall asleep again, peacefully this time though, knowing his angel was guarding him.
But noo, all that stupid tween can do was lie like a moron and not do anything. Not even a pat of his eyelashes (an unneeded observation, but she'd noticed that he had long, dark eyelashes. Not that she needed to know that. Really.)
Hasn't he read at least one novel?
Wait, on second thought, she didn't want to know.
She figures he was doing that on purpose: for days on no end, a weird mountain of sorts has developed itself in her chest. It's heavy and uncomfortable and she has never experienced it before.
She calls it a 'lump', Jackie calls it 'guilt' and the resident doctor advises her to visit the psychiatrist.
But whatever it is, it's annoying and she wants it gone.
Oh, and Jackie's wrong.
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During one of her rare sleepless nights, when both she and Jackie stalk around the two beds (actually, when Jackie would do so; she'll stay by the white-haired boy's bed, not even moving) and check on both boys and mutter something to herself, Riruka gets a hold of Yukio's old PSP.
Despite its age, it is still shiny, polished after days and days of use, and she gets giddy while holding it in her hands. It's dark and pretty and it looks so fragile. Like the boy to her left, hidden under a number of blankets.
She holds onto the gadget carefully, as though it's made of glass, as though it's a frail token of trust between shy teenagers (the girl looks after the boy's possessions… hmmph, not surprising).
It's dark just like his eyes used to be and she wonders just how precious it has been to him.
(sleeps with it like a child snogging a teddy bear)
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"Okay, now! Listen to me you stupid idiot! You are driving both me and Jackie very crazy with this coma thing! I don't even care what's happened to you; hell, I don't care about you at all! But obviously, she cares for you and she'd be very upset if you don't wake up. And I don't wana see Jackie upset, especially over a little idiot like you! So, doofus, I am spelling it out very clearly for you! Wake. Up."
"Are you talking to someone?" asked a confused Jackie who was just entering the room.
"Of course not," she snorted arrogantly, "Who should I be talking to? This idiot over here?"
Jackie just smiled a little knowing smile and bent over Ginjo's bed.
…
Sometimes, after having stupid nightmares (like if all chocolate in the world is eaten by a giant snake or if all the teddy bears are burnt on a stake by some psycho or if he doesn't wake up), she wakes up all sweaty and panting. When (not if, when) that happens, she stays up all night thinking about various things (broken ballerinas twirling and twirling and twirling, a blast of something she doesn't recognise and breaking an old, polished PSP). Her lids never close themselves and usually they rest on his figure.
He looks better under moonlight.
That just did not sound like from a cheap romance novel!
It's just that, 'cause, you know, because of his complexion. Under the white light of the moon (she suspects Jackie deliberately leaves the curtains open so that it can shine in the room), the colour of that thin skin of his looks more natural and his hair looks like liquid starshine.
She knows that if he opens his eyes, she will see pearly eyes instead of the inky ones she has almost forgotten.
Sometimes, if the nightmares are very bad, she reaches over and clutches his hand.
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"Hey, why are you helping me anyway? I mean, yeah, I took you in, I promised you all that , but I haven't really asked you to do anything…"
She doesn't like the glint in Jackie's eyes. There's something evil in it.
A sigh escapes her lips.
"Well, common sense says so. I'm the reason they are in this bad condition now; the least I should do is help in any way possible."
Both of them know there's no such thing as common sense with them.
"Really? Is that the only reason?"
"… Ya really."
What? That woman expects that she'll say that she's crazy in love with him?
Tough luck.
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Jackie's question really gets her pondering why she's doing all this though. Sure, it is the normal and expected thing to do and she isn't complaining but still.
It's kinda hard to explain.
But she is definitely not guilty.
…
Fine, it was guilt. Okay?
She felt guilty she did that to them.
But she was trying, okay?
But that's natural, right? To repent for your mistakes…
Someone had once tried to teach her shit like that. She hadn't understood anything from that.
But now she knew.
She felt bad.
Wait. 'Bad' didn't even begin to cover it. She wished from all her heart that things returned to the way they used to be: her minding her own business, them minding their own business. Even if that meant she was going to leave that sorry excuse of a helpless idiot, then so be it. She wouldn't care less…
Just.
Let him be okay.
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