Steam rose from the cup, dissipating delicately into the cool air of the coffee shop. Jun watched it intently; waiting for the moment it was absorbed into the ambient ether, no longer hot steam, but cool, moist air. The coffee taunted her from its place on the table; its smell was rich and bitter, its color the same brown as her eyes. Jun leaned over the cup and was able only to make out her silhouette in the reflection on the liquid surface. She turned her head away to watch the street. Two teenaged boys strutted and posed in front of the shop, their ears twitching visibly, giving away their true state of mind even as they sought to appear outwardly composed. She smiled slightly as each of the boys swiveled an ear towards the same direction. The two girls came into sight a moment later. Jun watched as the courting dance became more elaborate; boys distant and cool, girls alternately coy and suggestive. The four walked off smiling, tails lifted, ears pricked. She looked back down at the table, and the coffee that mocked her with its ordinariness. Jun’s eyes closed against the image of the young lovers on the street. Love wasn't always sweet. It hadn’t been that long since her world had been destroyed by a single madwoman with a twisted messianic dream – for love. Jun could still remember the piercing blue of Asuka’s eyes as she had said, "you love me, don’t you?" Jun shook her head to clear away the image. It wasn’t love that had driven Asuka to cause the mutations. It wasn’t love of anyone else but herself, she corrected. The coffee steam rose, carrying its scent to Jun's sensitive nose. She thought back on the changes that she had seen - her country, ripped open by its own fear; people and places razed to prevent the very thing that might save them - the Beast Progress. Asuka had manipulated them all, caused one government after another to panic over what their own research had spawned; a genetic mutation in nearly every citizen, which had caused regressive DNA to become dominant. Jun gazed at the passers-by, noting horns, animal and insect eyes, tails and a host of other signs of the Progress. All done in the name of research by a crazy woman - all done out of a self-loathing so infinite that only by becoming a god could Asuka have absolved herself from it. The coffee was cooling now, the steam lower over the surface. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Jun lifted her arm and laid her hand heavily on the table. It looked natural, it moved naturally. It was natural. It was her arm - the arm she had had before her arms had been wrenched from her body by an insane goddess: The very same research that had been used to remove her from the humanity she had saved: the same research that had destroyed her life, her love, her home, had given her back her arm. And she hated it. She stared down with loathing at the thing. Gingerly, she pointed towards the mug, warmth radiating over the skin of her fingertip. She curled the alien hand around the cup and felt the warmth grow, felt the heat spread until it became too much and she had to pull her hand away. She looked down at the palm – it was red and angry. As if it were real. Still not convinced of the hand’s reality, she plunged a single finger into the coffee’s depths, and pulled it out again as the liquid quickly scalded the skin. Without thinking, she stuck it into her mouth to cool it, then pulled it out again in repulsion. This hand, where there had been none. This arm, where there were no arms. The thought elated and disgusted her…a feeling that seemed familiar somehow, until she remembered when she had felt it first. Asuka, dressed in a very business-like yet provocative suit, crossing her legs, drawing Jun’s attention to their length, their smooth, pale skin - even as her words - her filthy words - implied that she knew Jun’s innermost soul. A feeling made even more horrible by that fact that she had been quite correct. Asuka had known what kind of woman Jun really was all the time. Jun cast her mind back once again, remembering the trembling, the repulsion and attraction that she had felt every time Asuka’s eyes had traveled her body, every time the blonde had referred to Kazumi as her lover. Every time they had spent a moment in each other’s company. Jun shivered in the cool café at the memory of Asuka's touch. And she remembered too that the physical attraction heightened as her form changed, as her body – truer to her instincts than her mind had ever been – reacted to Asuka’s scent...that inviting, sexual scent. And dear, sweet Kazumi, so close that Jun could almost taste her; and Aoi, and Hitomi and all the other women who had wanted her, or that she had wanted, over the years – she remembered every nuance of their scents even now. Her sense of smell had been animal-sharp, long before the rest of her body had joined it. Reflexively, Jun threaded her fingers through the handle of the mug and lifted it. It was cool enough to drink now. She leaned forward, ready to accept the sacrament, her lips nearing the rim. "Fudou-san? Fudou Jun-san?" The voice startled her and the mug slipped from its place in mid-air down to the table with a messy thump. Coffee spilled over the edge, not enough to burn or stain, just enough to signal disruption. "Oh no! I’m so sorry!" A hand reached out for a napkin and mopped up the spreading puddle. Jun looked up, ready to comfort the voice…and stopped. "Ka…zu...mi?" Jun’s voice was hoarse, her surprise forcing itself out with each of the three syllables. She realized her mistake instantly, even before confusion had begun to spread across the girl’s face. Of course it couldn’t be Kazumi – Kazumi was dead. Kazumi was dead and they had hardly been together before they were torn apart forever. "I’m sorry," the girl said, again. "I’m sorry for interrupting you, startling you…" Jun found her voice and manners and smiled a polite little smile. "That’s fine. I was just surprised." She looked carefully at the girl now, seeing her as a separate person, not an extension of her memories. She had short hair, the color of sweet chestnuts; a rich, dark red-brown. She looked like Kazumi in a superficial way – short hair, wide and pleasant eyes, her face young, but not naive. Jun could not help notice the crimson eyes that looked sharply back at her; regarding her with the same measuring gaze she was herself giving the girl. Her smile relaxed a little. Jun waved her arm, gesturing at the other chair. The sheer normality of the gesture made her dizzy. "Please, have a seat, um…" The girl seated herself quickly, neatly. "Akami." She gave no family name. Jun didn’t inquire. "Akami-san," Jun repeated. So, she had been born with those eyes. They were not a sign of the Progress. Or, were they? Maybe this was a new name, taken in defiance of her appearance. Or was the reference to her red-brown hair? Jun could not help pondering the many mysteries this stranger presented. "I'm sorry to disturb you," Akami repeated. "I...I am...was...a big fan of yours before..." the girl's voice petered out and Jun realized that she was staring at the hand that pressed itself into the table surface. Self-consciously, Jun pulled her arm back and curled the hand into a fist in her lap. "Before the Fall." Akami finished quietly. 'The Fall.' That was what people were calling it. Jun kept wondering if it were the descent of angels from heaven that they referred to, or humanity out of the Garden of Eden. She had never asked - she had no one to ask. "I see." Jun spoke quietly, politely. "Well, thank you." Akami blushed, but Jun didn't notice. Her eyes had strayed once again to the window. Akami turned to share what Jun was looking at. They watched in silence as people passed by the window in pantomime. Jun felt the awkwardness of an aging star - instantly recognizable, but with no recent credits to her name. "You were so beautiful." Akami said, affirming Jun's own thoughts of her past career. Those days were long gone - days of modeling, shoots in glamorous clothes, mentoring Kazumi... Kazumi. Akami was like her, and wasn't. Kazumi had the many beauties of her name...Jun was startled out of her reverie by Akami's voice, low and throaty. "When you fought over the city, my friends and I tried to get as close as we could, because we thought you were so beautiful." Jun stared at the girl in obvious confusion, but Akami was still looking out the window. "We were all members of your fan club." She smiled that inner, embarrassed smile that one does at one's childish habits. "But when you became the Devilman...it was like we all knew that it was right. You weren't just beautiful, you were strong too - you would save us." Jun was no longer listening. Her eyes closed, she could see her foes, one after the other; their pain and alienation turned to rage and destruction. Her own sense of being different made manifest in that bestial form - the strength she lacked as a woman, as a model, as a lover, come to life in her muscular body. She could feel herself becoming excited as she remembered the one good thing about the Progress - the sense of raw power. Her memories cast her into the familiar welter of emotions. Power as her body gained a strength unthinkable in her anemic youth; loss as she killed beast after beast at Asuka's bidding; strength as she came to realize her own truth; terror and grief as she was banished from the world into a hell of her own making; joy - deep, immense joy as she took Kazumi at last into her arms, both of them admitting what they had never before been able to admit...and loss once again, as Kazumi dangled off her enemy's arm, dead. In mere hours she had gained and lost the love of her life. And here was this specter, this ghost risen with Kazumi's face and voice... and her scent. The girl smelled of cinnamon and pepper and of desire. Jun's skin quivered as she recognized the smell consciously. "Fudou-san," the girl's voice pleaded, "where do we go from here?" Jun opened her eyes, opened her mouth in shock. Where did they go from here? Did she realize what she was saying? They had barely met! Akami was still watching the crowd pass by the shop window. Without turning to face Jun, completely unaware of the older woman’s reaction, she said, "Where do we all go from here?" Jun took a deep breath, relieved...and just a little disappointed. She turned once again to the street. "We celebrate," she answered. "We celebrate being alive. We celebrate our diversity - we celebrate..." she lifted her arm, a deliberate movement to bring the girl's attention back to her, smiled into the girl's eyes pleasantly and finished, "we celebrate my new arm." A moment later, Jun realized that she actually meant it. It was a celebration - today she once again had an arm. After months of being completely dependent on others to be dressed, to be fed, to be washed - today she was once again alive on her own terms. Akami opened her mouth to speak, but Jun broke in by calling the waitress over. After they had ordered more coffee and some cake, they were left alone. Akami was smiling now, cheerful, hopeful. Her crimson eyes lit with pleasure as she found herself in the presence of the object of her hero-worship. "Fudou-san," the girl began, but Jun corrected her. "Jun-san, what was it like, being a supermodel? Was it really all hard work and long hours - or was there any glamour at all?" A normal question, Jun thought. Two normal people going about their normal lives. "It was both." She smiled at the waitress and picked up the fresh cup of coffee. She brought it to her lips and sipped at the hot liquid. It burned as she swallowed it. A good feeling, a real feeling. "I love that one shoot you did for Kiki," Akami was gushing, "where they had you dress like a Queen. You looked very regal." Jun ducked her head in royal acknowledgement. She smiled at the girl's giggle. It felt good to be around this girl - she made Jun forget the darkness. Akami's ruby eyes held a kind of fire, a joy of life, which warmed Jun in its glow. They sat there, eating cake, drinking coffee and laughing. It was all so normal, all so very average, that Jun was choked by it. It was late - the sun had gone down long ago, and Akami kept looking at her watch. "You don't need to keep me company, you know," Jun laughed. "I can get home on my own." Akami blushed. "I have somewhere I have to...I'm sorry, I really have to go." She stood and made a stab at her pocket, pulling out an unruly wad of money. Jun waved it away. Waved, like she'd always had a hand with which to gesture. "My treat." Jun felt happy in a way that seemed unnatural to her. Giddy, almost high. "Thank you for your company." Akami stuck the money back in her pocket, then looked down at the table. When she looked back up, her eyes were so full of mischief that Jun practically recoiled - too much Kazumi in that glance. Only trouble lay there, and Jun had to stop herself from running. Akami held out a hand. Jun stared at it, but it took a moment for the point to set in. She raised her arm and put her own hand into the girl's - they shook, solemnly. "Thank you." Akami's voice was warm. Jun could feel the heat pass from hand to hand and pulled her own back. "Thank you," Jun said, not able to infuse her voice with coolness. It was too late - she had begun to thaw.
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