Story 05: Welk & Faul

It was time for tea in the Mikuni mansion.

One expected butlers, maids, and gardeners to be swarming the inside and outside, but only one lived here. There used to be two, but one departed recently. Only one lived in this mansion fit for seven families, and that one was Oriko Mikuni.

She wore what looked like a nun's outfit, but she didn't pay allegiance to any church. It was simple in design but it fit her quite well. The other had said she looked good in it, but she always said that concerning any article of clothing.

Her face had a haggard look, her eyes like an emerald in a deep grave. No happiness radiated from her, no bright and cheery colors; only a wraith walked.

She was in the kitchen, boiling tea. To the side stood two fine white translucent porcelain cups on saucers, also simple in their design but very expensive. Gold embroidered the lip of the cups and rim of the saucers, like a smock.

No lights were on anywhere in the mansion, and only select windows were drawn open to let the noontime light in - specifically those in the kitchen and on the way to the rose garden outside.

Oriko's mind was empty. If she thought of her, she would break down, but she had to move on. She had to stay strong. Especially now, while making tea, an activity the two shared frequently.

She rubbed her hands together, waiting for the teapot to whistle. She noticed the coldness of them, as if they belonged to a corpse. Smiling a fraction she decided she would use the teacup to warm her hands.

The teapot whistled, steam jetting out of the spout. Oriko turned the stove off and took the teacups outside. The round table that stood waiting -  not smashed, repaired from that one instance of her former housemate horsing around - with a white tablecloth covering it, had a lot of memories associated with it. Too many painful memories. A facial tic manifested itself for a second on her face. The wind picked up, swaying the cloth like a hand waving goodbye. Oriko set one cup on one side, and the second on the other side. A straight line can be drawn between the two points.

She went back inside and brought the pot of tea out. With utmost care and practiced precision, she poured tea into each cup, filling them up to the three/fourths mark; where another gold band would have been if they had painted it on.

Oriko sat down in her seat, staring straight at the empty seat. Steam rose from each cup like a coiling snake. Why did she set places for two when she was the only one living here? Her, and the wind, shared a table; no one else was here. Old habits died hard.

Firm hands raised, shaky hands gripped her tea cup and saucer, even shakier hands brought the cup to her quivering lips and the saucer just under it. A single tear streaked down her cheek like it was a snow covered mountain, sledding to her chin only to free fall to the saucer.

"Kirika..." She whimpered, biting back her sorrow as she stared at the tablecloth.

"... Seeing you like this kills me..." A voice spoke up. Oriko snapped her head up.

"Kirika...?" Oriko muttered, astonished to see her friend sitting on the other end of the table.

"Yep, it's me!" Kirika grinned. "Not even death can keep me away from you."

Oriko was speechless. Kirika Kure sat across the table, leaning back in her chair like she always did; a look of open adoration on her face. Tears flooded her eyes, her vision blurred.

"N-no, you can-can't be Kirika.." She murmured, her heart converting into lead, pushing all her pent up tears out. "You're dead, you're dead, you're dead. This is all just, just, just a trick of the light and my addled mind!" She shook her head. Her eyes closed like a fort during a siege. The cup and saucer somehow found their way to the table intact.

"I am dead. Never knew what hit me," Kirika giggled. Oriko opened her eyes and stared at her friend. Was she hallucinating? No? Maybe? She didn't know. She could hear her friend, see her friend, but she was dead; even she admitted it!

"There is something I want to tell you, Oriko Mikuni," Kirika said the girl's name with caramel tenderness. She straightened up some, coughed into a fist, and said, "Ich liebe dich."

"But, that's German, you silly child." Oriko smiled, eyes still shimmering.

"Ehehe, I know. Point is, words won't ever capture my feelings for you. I may be dead, but I am your's, forever. Not even Death has domain over me, over us."

"Love is finite in infinity?"

"That's right, Oriko. So stop crying, stop feeling alone - I'm here, forever, right behind you, beside you, in front of you; always." Kirika reached out across the table with a bare hand. She looked like she was reaching out to someone who was about to fall off a cliff.

Oriko stared at the hand. Was it real?

Did it matter? She was insane if this was all make believe, and she wanted Kirika to be there so bad she would give up half her soul to share with her. She reached a hand out, hesitating as she gripped the soft hand. Both hands clutched the other tight, for dear life, passionate; lovingly.

Oriko burst into tears. She felt warmth! Kirika was there! She really was there! Across the table! Holding her hand! In this rose garden her father planted!

Her hand felt warm. Kirika was really there! Her hand felt warm. Kirika was really there! Her hand felt warm. Kirika was really there! Her hand felt warm. Kirika was really there! Warm! Hand! Kirika! Kirika! Kirika!

Kirika...!

Oriko sobbed with renewed vigor. Animal noises were all she could make as her entire body shook. Oriko's posture collapsed in on itself, her face burying itself into her chest. The phantom disappeared, leaving only the wind to hold Oriko's extended hand.