Blake, That Book, and a Mango

She likes to think of herself as the calm, cool, serious one. But she isn't.

"So," said Sun Wukong, "where are we going?"

"We are not going anywhere," said Blake Belladonna. "I am going somewhere and you ... are going somewhere else."

"But there are so many nice things to do together in Menagerie!" said Sun. "Lots of things to ... eat."

"You were going to say 'steal', weren't you?"

"No! Well, maybe. A little. Part monkey, you know, that's what we do."

Blake considered. "As I recall, on the south side of town there is a mango stall where the manager often falls asleep," she said. "Why don't you go there?"

"Mangoes? Great!" And he was off.

Blake sighed, watching him go. She liked Sun, yes, but he was ... well, she wasn't sure what. She had been surprised how much concern she had felt when he had been injured – not that she would ever have told him. Let's just say that she was not as interested in him as he was in her. Or at least not in the same way. Which brought her to the next subject. The bookstore. There was only one on Menagerie, and there had only ever been one. Not great readers, faunus. Except cookbooks. They all loved cookbooks. And, for some reason, books about shoes.

She wound her way through the streets until she came to The Bookshop. She had not been here for some time. She hoped that the owner would not remember her. She went in.

"Miss Belladonna!" said the Shopkeep, a goat faunus. "Wonderful to see you again."

Damn, thought Blake.

"How did you go with the book you and your friend bought last time you were here?" he said.

"Uh, well, it was alright. But ... I lost it before I had the chance to finish it. No, I wanted to read it again. I left it in my room at Beacon Academy. No, I loaned it to a friend and she lost it. Or wouldn't give it back. Or something. Do you have another copy?"

"Hmm, maybe, let me check down here amongst the stock I keep under the counter. The ... special ... books." As he rummaged around, he said: "How is your friend? The one who bought it for you. I think she wrote a special message on the inside for you. A very romantic message, as I recall. What did it say again?"

To my dearest Blake. I will love you forever. Illia.

"I forget," said Blake. She had torn that page out and thrown it away. Not after the first time Illia had tried to kill her. Not even the second. The third.

"Who was the author again?" said the Shopkeep.

"Patty Berdioler," said Blake automatically.

"Ah, you must know the book well."

I read my copy so many times it was falling apart, she thought. It gave me very ... pleasant ... feelings.

"Success!" said the Shopkeep. "Last one!"

Thank god, thought Blake.

He handed it to her.

Ninjas of Love. She took it and hugged it to her chest. All was right with the world.

Then she realised that such an expression of affection for a book – especially this book – might not be entirely appropriate. She gave a little cough and put the book on the counter. The eyes on the front stared up at her. They seemed to be smiling. Or smirking. Quickly, she turned the book face-down.

Now the rather provocative description was staring at her. She sighed.

"Can you, er, put it in a bag or something?" she said, as she paid.

"Sorry, no bags left. But you can just carry it. Not like it's heavy, eh?"

She sighed again. As she left The Bookshop, she wished she had worn a jacket or something.

"Mango!" said Sun.

She jumped. She put the book behind her, as casually as one can do such a thing.

"Er, hello," she said.

Sun was hanging upside-down, by his tail, from a branch. He was holding a mango out to her.

"Watcha got?" he said.

"Er, nothing, nothing," she said. "Just a book."

He swung around to get behind her. She did her best to hide the book but instead dropped it. Sun picked it up. "Ninjas of Love, eh?" he said. "Any good?"

"I doubt that you would like it."

"Hey, why didn't you just borrow your mother's copy?"

"Uh, what? My ... mother?"

"Sure, there's a copy on the bookshelf at your place. You didn't see it?"

Blake realised she had never looked.

"I guess it's pretty popular," Sun continued. "I saw Professor Goodwitch carrying a copy with her other stuff at Beacon. I think Nora has one too."

Blake thought: Nora!? And then: GLYNDA!? And then: MY MOTHER!?

"Huh," she said. Sun leafed through it. Please don't see the picture, please don't see the picture, Blake thought.

He closed the book and handed it to her. She gave an inward sigh of relief.

He handed her the mango. It was a combination of hardness and softness. Warm and fleshy in her hand. Ripe. For the eating.

Stop thinking, woman! Blake shouted silently at herself.

"Well," said Sun. "Where to next?"

"Next, home," said Blake. "First, I need to have a stern talk with my mother. And then I would really like to eat this mango."

END