(no subject)
Symmetria
Author: Mushroom
Series: Vision of Escaflowne
Wassup: Mentions of Van Fanel x Hitomi Kanzaki, OC
Drabble for my star_flare, because she requested it. I love you, dear.
1. When we parted, he embraced me. I could feel his heart laugh. We were that close.
Kanzaki-san’s fierce eyes were glued to the laptop screen late in the afternoon, after a harrowing business transaction in the office. You could see the strain on her forehead, in the way her muscles jerked. The swift fingers slamming on the keys blurred my vision, so I focused instead on the black stilettos she hurriedly flung towards the corner of the room. I always wanted a pair of those.
“Tell me a story,” I urged. “So, so boring.”
Kanzaki-san bit her lip. “...Working on something.” She opened a can of coke and sipped on it loudly, her fingers never leaving the keyboard.
The business executive was easy to prod, however; soon she started sharing her inventive stories to me in great detail. I heard fancy stuff about a prince with raven hair (“always a messy top, perfectly matched his scandalously grubby attire”) and a shy smile. There were also mentions of surreal countries she already visited, with their astounding landscapes and eccentric customs. Kanzaki-san was always good with stories; I used to discard my work duties just to listen to her tales, and her elegant voice was an added bonus. It was absolutely fun sharing an apartment unit with her.
As a businesswoman, Kanzaki-san was impeccable. She regularly styled her rich brown hair with an elegant chignon, like a huge twist of braids above her nape, and wore the best khaki suits even in the simplest of labor days. Kanzaki-san’s tongue was sharp but honest, and she usually imprisoned herself in her cubicle to kill herself with work, so a promotion was highly likely.
Who would’ve thought she could be this imaginative, this dreamy? In our apartment she usually wore one of her faded sweatshirts and lots of skimpy running shorts. Kanzaki-san would hug her knees and gaze through the window, often speaking to herself about ‘a boy’ and ‘a cat’...sometimes ‘a loud, but cute, cat’.
I’m obsessed, I know. The things I commit to memory.
2. I try to keep myself busy so as not to be distracted. But one can’t help but remember. The important things-like specific dates and notes-are ideas that slip away often. I tell this to you, because I cry to myself sometimes. It hurts keeping it all a secret.
“I hate my life,” I whined to her the subsequent week. Unemployment was impending. “Wish I could be taken away by one of your princes or something. Are there other nobles in the country you’ve visited?”
Kanzaki-san grinned. In the workroom, her forehead was often creased with anxiety. In our own little story-telling world, she was invigorated.
“There are a few. But there are knights, just like those in fairy tales.”
“Hmmm…how romantic. I really want to go there, somehow. Sounds like fun; I’d love an adventure.”
3. Oh my god, you mean you didn’t even get to kiss him before you left? I started rolling my eyes. Are you out of your mind? You should’ve grasped the chance!
She looked through the window, her face defined by a knowing smile. “It would be so nice, wouldn’t it, if you could just fly through this window, along with the breeze...if you could do it with just your memories…”
“…We should think happy thoughts,” I suggested. “Just like that Western book, Peter Pan.”
I felt really stupid that time, entertaining childish beliefs, but whenever I was with Kanzaki-san I felt like I could really believe in anything. Like everything was possible.
“…If the people in a faraway place need you, need you so badly, that’s the only time you can fly.” Kanzaki-san gazed upon the moon. “That person should call you with strong emotion. There should be a common agreement. You can’t decide things for yourself.”
I tried my best at work the following morning, and my colleagues looked at me in a better light. Kanzaki-san was rushing back and forth in every room, holding a bunch of papers with a blank look on her face. She did not suit this kind of lifestyle; she deserved the romance of her past experiences. Adulthood kept her feet to the ground-it just wasn’t fair, she was still quite young. I didn’t care about myself, I could fare well in reality…but her barrenness ate at me. Every night I would wake up and listen to Kanzaki-san as she wept; and yet she smiled during those personal moments, not because she was elated, but because she couldn’t stop remembering.
It was a habit she never grew out of.
4. She started giggling too, and a faint blush crept on her cheeks. I wanted nothing more than that good-bye hug, she whispered. But he kisses me to sleep, sometimes. Yes, in this exact room. You should listen hard enough.
I spotted a deck of tarot cards hidden carefully underneath her boring books about accounting and graphs, and asked if she could read my future. Kanzaki-san grew red and confessed that she hadn’t been reading since her high school years; said she matured quickly. It was all in good fun, but my coworker looked apprehensive.
“I thought I could control these things, but it was the other way around.” Her trembling hands held the deck-not fondly-and placed it in her bottom drawer.
I changed the subject. We started discussing mystical things over cups of hot chocolate. She slowly inhaled the warm smoke rising from the hot liquid, and pursed her lips as she drank. I watched intently, drinking her image as well.
Kanzaki-san was very mature in speech and action, but held the honest wisdom of a child. If only the world could hear her, could believe what she always told me. Kanzaki the hard-working. Kanzaki the industrious. They were only titles to hide her escapism. There was a side to her nobody could comprehend.
5. Do you wish to go back so that you guys could have a proper kiss? I wiggled my eyebrows.
Yes. I wish that.
Winter came rolling by rather quickly; the dried leaves fell in several amounts, scattering themselves along streets and burying the crisp grass. I viewed the wonders of late autumn while Kanzaki-san was talking on the phone with someone she knew in the past, and there was immeasurable pain in her eyes.
“They could live without me, right?” She inquired in a business-like tone after the teary phone call. “I have to know where I’m most required.”
I nodded, unable to come up with a reply.
I heard from former schoolmates that Kanzaki-san was quite a boisterous high-schooler, your typical teenage girl. Then she changed drastically, surprising all who knew her. The cheerful, inquisitive Hitomi Kanzaki became quiet and pensive. The mystery lay on the places she sought, and I envied her source of inspiration.
6. I don't belong here. I confess it.
I went home on a freezing Monday, rubbing my palms together as I kicked the door close behind me. The window was open and the wind blew our books and papers away, so I hurriedly ran and locked it securely. I sighed, inspecting the room for damage.
She was gone.
Kanzaki-san left only her material wealth, not those that truly nourished her. I looked at the tarot cards strewn without direction on the wet carpet and picked up a random card in an instant.
An upright Ace of Cups.
I went to sleep, feeling emptier than usual. I didn’t even bother to clean up the mess.
Since her departure, I spend most of my time looking out the window to daydream. Then I talk to myself in lisps. I can’t help but wonder. I walk along sidewalks, running over dogs with their leashes and owners and strollers. I brood in my cubicle, playing with the Ace of Cups in my hands, sliding it between my fingers. The boss told me that I was wasting my time waiting for change. I told him to shut up. I get fired and all that. I find another job-it’s a cycle. I listen to the radio, sometimes my own breathing.
Then I remember Kanzaki-san’s stories. Come to think of it, I never really asked where she went. I was never given a picture of her and the black-haired prince with his dragon. She must’ve made it all up.
7. Here's to hoping.
I dreamt that Kanzaki-san really flew through our apartment window and traveled to Never-never land among the clouds, armed with nothing but her black stilettos.
My ears have grown used to her romances. Even my mind exercises such passionate nonsense. My imagination keeps me sane-there is the risk of boredom without it.
When I close my ears to the honking of cars and the operatic screams of my supervisor, oftentimes I concentrate on her voice, and then I fervently wish that she brought me along with her. But nobody knows I exist in those places, and nobody actually cares.
I searched my mind for happy instances and joyful thoughts. They took me nowhere; gravity and sensibility were firm.
Now that Kanzaki-san is out there somewhere, probably kissing her prince, I hope that even if she’s having a happy time, she’ll someday feel the need to call me.
Author: Mushroom
Series: Vision of Escaflowne
Wassup: Mentions of Van Fanel x Hitomi Kanzaki, OC
Drabble for my star_flare, because she requested it. I love you, dear.
1. When we parted, he embraced me. I could feel his heart laugh. We were that close.
Kanzaki-san’s fierce eyes were glued to the laptop screen late in the afternoon, after a harrowing business transaction in the office. You could see the strain on her forehead, in the way her muscles jerked. The swift fingers slamming on the keys blurred my vision, so I focused instead on the black stilettos she hurriedly flung towards the corner of the room. I always wanted a pair of those.
“Tell me a story,” I urged. “So, so boring.”
Kanzaki-san bit her lip. “...Working on something.” She opened a can of coke and sipped on it loudly, her fingers never leaving the keyboard.
The business executive was easy to prod, however; soon she started sharing her inventive stories to me in great detail. I heard fancy stuff about a prince with raven hair (“always a messy top, perfectly matched his scandalously grubby attire”) and a shy smile. There were also mentions of surreal countries she already visited, with their astounding landscapes and eccentric customs. Kanzaki-san was always good with stories; I used to discard my work duties just to listen to her tales, and her elegant voice was an added bonus. It was absolutely fun sharing an apartment unit with her.
As a businesswoman, Kanzaki-san was impeccable. She regularly styled her rich brown hair with an elegant chignon, like a huge twist of braids above her nape, and wore the best khaki suits even in the simplest of labor days. Kanzaki-san’s tongue was sharp but honest, and she usually imprisoned herself in her cubicle to kill herself with work, so a promotion was highly likely.
Who would’ve thought she could be this imaginative, this dreamy? In our apartment she usually wore one of her faded sweatshirts and lots of skimpy running shorts. Kanzaki-san would hug her knees and gaze through the window, often speaking to herself about ‘a boy’ and ‘a cat’...sometimes ‘a loud, but cute, cat’.
I’m obsessed, I know. The things I commit to memory.
2. I try to keep myself busy so as not to be distracted. But one can’t help but remember. The important things-like specific dates and notes-are ideas that slip away often. I tell this to you, because I cry to myself sometimes. It hurts keeping it all a secret.
“I hate my life,” I whined to her the subsequent week. Unemployment was impending. “Wish I could be taken away by one of your princes or something. Are there other nobles in the country you’ve visited?”
Kanzaki-san grinned. In the workroom, her forehead was often creased with anxiety. In our own little story-telling world, she was invigorated.
“There are a few. But there are knights, just like those in fairy tales.”
“Hmmm…how romantic. I really want to go there, somehow. Sounds like fun; I’d love an adventure.”
3. Oh my god, you mean you didn’t even get to kiss him before you left? I started rolling my eyes. Are you out of your mind? You should’ve grasped the chance!
She looked through the window, her face defined by a knowing smile. “It would be so nice, wouldn’t it, if you could just fly through this window, along with the breeze...if you could do it with just your memories…”
“…We should think happy thoughts,” I suggested. “Just like that Western book, Peter Pan.”
I felt really stupid that time, entertaining childish beliefs, but whenever I was with Kanzaki-san I felt like I could really believe in anything. Like everything was possible.
“…If the people in a faraway place need you, need you so badly, that’s the only time you can fly.” Kanzaki-san gazed upon the moon. “That person should call you with strong emotion. There should be a common agreement. You can’t decide things for yourself.”
I tried my best at work the following morning, and my colleagues looked at me in a better light. Kanzaki-san was rushing back and forth in every room, holding a bunch of papers with a blank look on her face. She did not suit this kind of lifestyle; she deserved the romance of her past experiences. Adulthood kept her feet to the ground-it just wasn’t fair, she was still quite young. I didn’t care about myself, I could fare well in reality…but her barrenness ate at me. Every night I would wake up and listen to Kanzaki-san as she wept; and yet she smiled during those personal moments, not because she was elated, but because she couldn’t stop remembering.
It was a habit she never grew out of.
4. She started giggling too, and a faint blush crept on her cheeks. I wanted nothing more than that good-bye hug, she whispered. But he kisses me to sleep, sometimes. Yes, in this exact room. You should listen hard enough.
I spotted a deck of tarot cards hidden carefully underneath her boring books about accounting and graphs, and asked if she could read my future. Kanzaki-san grew red and confessed that she hadn’t been reading since her high school years; said she matured quickly. It was all in good fun, but my coworker looked apprehensive.
“I thought I could control these things, but it was the other way around.” Her trembling hands held the deck-not fondly-and placed it in her bottom drawer.
I changed the subject. We started discussing mystical things over cups of hot chocolate. She slowly inhaled the warm smoke rising from the hot liquid, and pursed her lips as she drank. I watched intently, drinking her image as well.
Kanzaki-san was very mature in speech and action, but held the honest wisdom of a child. If only the world could hear her, could believe what she always told me. Kanzaki the hard-working. Kanzaki the industrious. They were only titles to hide her escapism. There was a side to her nobody could comprehend.
5. Do you wish to go back so that you guys could have a proper kiss? I wiggled my eyebrows.
Yes. I wish that.
Winter came rolling by rather quickly; the dried leaves fell in several amounts, scattering themselves along streets and burying the crisp grass. I viewed the wonders of late autumn while Kanzaki-san was talking on the phone with someone she knew in the past, and there was immeasurable pain in her eyes.
“They could live without me, right?” She inquired in a business-like tone after the teary phone call. “I have to know where I’m most required.”
I nodded, unable to come up with a reply.
I heard from former schoolmates that Kanzaki-san was quite a boisterous high-schooler, your typical teenage girl. Then she changed drastically, surprising all who knew her. The cheerful, inquisitive Hitomi Kanzaki became quiet and pensive. The mystery lay on the places she sought, and I envied her source of inspiration.
6. I don't belong here. I confess it.
I went home on a freezing Monday, rubbing my palms together as I kicked the door close behind me. The window was open and the wind blew our books and papers away, so I hurriedly ran and locked it securely. I sighed, inspecting the room for damage.
She was gone.
Kanzaki-san left only her material wealth, not those that truly nourished her. I looked at the tarot cards strewn without direction on the wet carpet and picked up a random card in an instant.
An upright Ace of Cups.
I went to sleep, feeling emptier than usual. I didn’t even bother to clean up the mess.
Since her departure, I spend most of my time looking out the window to daydream. Then I talk to myself in lisps. I can’t help but wonder. I walk along sidewalks, running over dogs with their leashes and owners and strollers. I brood in my cubicle, playing with the Ace of Cups in my hands, sliding it between my fingers. The boss told me that I was wasting my time waiting for change. I told him to shut up. I get fired and all that. I find another job-it’s a cycle. I listen to the radio, sometimes my own breathing.
Then I remember Kanzaki-san’s stories. Come to think of it, I never really asked where she went. I was never given a picture of her and the black-haired prince with his dragon. She must’ve made it all up.
7. Here's to hoping.
I dreamt that Kanzaki-san really flew through our apartment window and traveled to Never-never land among the clouds, armed with nothing but her black stilettos.
My ears have grown used to her romances. Even my mind exercises such passionate nonsense. My imagination keeps me sane-there is the risk of boredom without it.
When I close my ears to the honking of cars and the operatic screams of my supervisor, oftentimes I concentrate on her voice, and then I fervently wish that she brought me along with her. But nobody knows I exist in those places, and nobody actually cares.
I searched my mind for happy instances and joyful thoughts. They took me nowhere; gravity and sensibility were firm.
Now that Kanzaki-san is out there somewhere, probably kissing her prince, I hope that even if she’s having a happy time, she’ll someday feel the need to call me.