“The Common Denomination - ii”
Friend.
The building shook with the deafening boom of yet another carrier lifting its manmade wings towards the heavens. Just above her, the sound of rusted metal on metal groaned in protest as the aftershock finally hit the currently-being-rennovated building.
Best friend.
As the shock subsided, debris was loosed from the rafters above. Fine bits of drywall wafted in stale air before they came to rest upon bronzed shoulders. Running on pure automation, the young woman lifted a delicate hand, dusting her shoulders free of the particles. A practiced motion, especially for a place such as the one she found herself in.
With a tired and heavy sigh, the raven-haired Japanese Native clapped the periodical closed. It was no use, she resolved. She had read the same line ten times, and the article still didn’t register in her mind. Save for one thing that played over and over in her thoughts, a mantra.
Rei was good at that. Having a staunch mindset, had its advantages. But for all that training, it didn’t seem to work.
My best friend.
As she lifted her eyes, a sea of bodies and white noise greeted her senses – quite the change of pace from what she had grown accustomed to for the past month or two. The airport of Cote D’Ivoire, Abidjan played host to the international world; pock marked with all shades of colors. But the most prominent were those that she was constantly compared to. The Ebon hued people of west Africa. When she first arrived, the priestess had been taken aback with their curiosity of her fair skin, especially by the children she was sent to school for a time. Adaptation was the key to each country she was sent to, for this, her prized solitude was bombarded on a daily basis.
Friend...A best friend...One of four...Nothing more...
The miko’s now sun kissed flesh, was covered with a light sheen of her sweat. Despite having her hair twisted into a top-knot, Rei was suffering through another of Abidjan’s infamous winters – a humid ninety plus degrees in the shade. Taking her heavily condensed water bottle, she pressed it against the nape of her slender neck – it eased her discomfort for only a second. What battle waged in her mind remained prominent, even among the din of incomprehensible terminal chatter.
A hand slipped into the depths of her khaki pantaloons. The miko fished out a worn envelope. Having lowered her eyes towards it, Rei pulled out its contents. She unfolded the piece of paper it harbored. A ghost of a smile twitched upon her unblemished countenance as her eyes roamed its surface. It had been handwritten, as she would have expected it to be, considering from whom it originated. Words had been written, then erased then re-written. An unexpected laugh then had broken free from past her lips. It had been far too long.
The arrival of this letter had amazed Rei. How Usagi had managed to pinion where she was, just tipped the iceberg, once determination set in, nothing could stop the Odango headed woman – was she still sporting that look? Though dated – the basic gist of the letter revealed that she would be returning to Japan. Rei wasn’t initially going to accept the invitation. Not only was it to participate in welcoming her back, but it served as a little reunion for their little clique.
But the miko longed to be home.
Besides...it was a silly little crush. Asinine little curious feeling...long dead, long dead.
So...why not? There was no time to compose a reply to Usagi’s invitation.
Rei purposely ran from that life. Distance, time...they would be her weapons of choice. Older, wiser, experienced. She was not that angst ridden teenager. She couldn’t completely wipe her from her life though. Minako didn’t deserve that.
A friend didn’t deserve that.
As the priestess promised, she maintained correspondence as much as she could – it wasn’t her fault when her mission was sent to remote ’s all.
She once had haphazardly outed herself towards Usagi – of all people – but the would be Princess surprisingly reacted with little shock. Or...she absolutely didn’t get the cusp of her comment...
“...you don’t like boys Rei-chan?”, gasped Usagi.
“No. Didn’t I say I was that type?”, simply replied Rei, almost too matter of factly.
“Four hours more,” sighed Rei, who had then stolen a glance towards the nearest timepiece. Anxiety set into her as she noticed the clock wind itself towards the Zero Hour. Her attention was soon held captive though, when a BBC newscast flared to life right next to the digital announcements for departures and arrivals.
She couldn’t hear a whit of what was said, but she didn’t need to. If it weren’t for that signature Cowboy Ten Gallon she sported, it would have been that walk – though the images on the television were distorted, it was...is her... The Songtress was flanked at Narita International. Hordes on hordes clamoring for her. Her bodyguards were there, Thank Kami. But...one, tendered off a different vibe. His massive arm, hooked snugly about the Star’s nipped trim waist as he guided her carefully into the bowels of a limousine.
The newscast slipped into commercial break.
She’s there.
Nibbling on her lower lip...The twenty-six year old woman sighed her resignation. Irately she stuffed the letter back into its housing and into her pocket. Rei then grabbed the periodical she originally lobbed aside, and affixed her intense eyes to the bold typeface.
Much to her dismay...and not realizing it till now, the line she had been trying to read, simply stated:
“Minako Aino, The Star for the Millennia – Japan’s icon returns home”
Weathering through controversies, age and time, the international
Star has proven, she’s stalwart and has no intent of leaving
Our minds and most importantly, our hearts...
Christ. She’s everywhere.
Japan
“Are you SURE?”
“Hai, sure.”, the young woman replied off handedly.
“...Positive?”, it was a softer timbre asking this time.
She glanced towards the source and grinned broadly, “Mm, positive!”
The young mother, paused in her stead, pivoted about and faced her lifelong friends. The taller female, crossed her arms over the full of her chest, whilst the petite one of the duo, glanced from behind her wire rimmed glasses, at one, then to the other – finishing with an arc of a slender brow.
“Trust me. That’s what friends are supposed to do,” Usagi remarked, “This is the place.”
Makoto looked about the dimly lit airport. Ami puckered her lips before turning her attentions towards the babe nested at the crook of Usagi’s arms.
“Soo. What do you think, little one?”, questioned the young Pediatric.
The child bubbled, spittled and giggled in reply.
Makoto strolled lazily towards a pillar, letting the massive structure support her frame. She chuckled eyeing Ami converse nonsensically towards Usagi’s child.
“Artimes and Luna promised to have the Temple prepared for when Minako arrives.” She paused in thought, tapping at the butt of her chin, “Do you think she’s changed much?”
“Minako-chan,” began Usagi, “Will always be Minako-chan.” A simple, yet psychologically profound statement – at least, to Usagi.
“I believe,” Ami reiterated clearer, “Since Minako-chan had already known what it was like to be in the spotlight for so long in Japan, she wouldn’t’ve let it cloud her.”
A nod, “We knew that. She IS on TV all the time, she’s never been snobbish – but...what I meant was...Rei,” murmured Makoto, “The only common thing we have now, are our ages. Sort of.”
They all fell silent at the mention of the miko. Save for the baby’s constant cooing. There was no reply sent to Usagi’s letter – so, there wouldn’t be a way of answering Makoto’s question for sure. The letter that was just one of a baker’s dozen that were sent out by Usagi. Ami insisted on typing it for the determined Japanese woman, but Usagi, gallantly refused. Deeming it more personable if it were hand written.
Usagi paid the price.
Makoto spent the better half of her lunch hour massaging Usagi’s forearm in the aftermath.
In truth, no one knew how Rei was. But...the day Minako left Japan, it was plain to the remaining threesome that a part of the miko had died. At first, they couldn’t understand why Rei had nearly shut herself off. Rei didn’t have an explanation for her actions either. It was astounding though how her face had lit as soon as any programming on Television announced anything regarding Minako. The girls knew that above them all, Rei and Minako had forged a close bond. How close?
Perhaps that’s why the priestess lept at a chance given to her, by none other than her estranged father, to play an almost ambassadorial role. An outreach program designed to spirit Rei from one corner of the world to another. Nary a chance was given, to maintain any sort of civil relation with the miko. Usagi understood, Ami respected, but Makoto was irritated by Rei’s brash decision...
“WHY? Why do this Rei? You have no idea where you’ll be, how can we reach you?”
“You know how to write, hai? Send letters.”, the miko retorted. “Everything is at rest – I’ll return if and when I’m needed to...Don’t ask me to stay.”
“You don’t have to run, Rei – you don’t have to hide from us now – she’s no longer...”, Makoto never finished. With a pivot of her heel, Rei faced the taller senshi. Brown played on brown, the electricity was so palpable it near drowned those that were reduced to just watching the verbal sparring.
“I hide from no one.”
“Then...will you chase her?”
Makoto shook her head free from the grips of yester-year, after all this time, she still snarled her dissatisfaction. A tired exhale was given before the culinary student made her way to Usagi’s side.
“She’s definitely your child, Usagi-chan,” remarked Ami before turning her attention towards the opening doors of the main terminal. “Ah good, they’re offloading.”
The three, in synchronous fashion began craning their necks at odd angles. But as the main part of the mass of people began to thin, Usagi began to fidget. Concern soon seeped in as she handed over the baby to Makoto.
“Minako-chan should....be...Chotto, let me find out...” Niether Ami nor the tallest senshi were amused at this point.
“...Your best dish will be fine,” Makoto conspired, after Usagi was far from earshot.
“I’ll...trust Usagi-chan,” replied Ami gamefully.
“Ami-chan...”
“Yes?”
“Gambling doesn’t suit you,” smirked Makoto.
Not more than a minute passed, as a piteous cry erupted from the demure young mother...garnering looks one end of the terminal to the other.
“USO!!”
Makoto grinned triumphantly, “Motoki-kun loves your cheese cake, Ami-chan.”
Back to The Song That You Sing Index - Back to Sailor Moon Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction