Reset: Chapter 5

By: Seravy

When she first dreamt of that woman she had only thought of it as a figment of her imagination. How she knew the hazy figure, ambling towards her across a vast plain of flowers, was a woman? A soft feeling in her heart told her so.

In the dream, she could only ever reach out and scream. Nothing would leave her throat, the words obliterated as if forbidden. All the more desperate, she would extend her hand in vain hopes that they would be able to meet sooner. Around them, strong gusts of winds would wreak havoc across the plain, petals of all sorts of colours thick in the air, pulling her away and taking her into the bright blue sky. A pair of doors would then shut her into darkness. Every time she reached this segment of the dream, fear with a tinge of hope would enslave her as she anticipated the inevitable: Cold blades of pain would slice into her abdomen, followed by a burst of hot sadness in her chest. Yet she always told herself that she had to endure this. Someone was waiting for her and all she had to do was wait. It was as if she had split into two halves, one with knowledge that the other part didn't have. She would obey until the agony became unbearable, breaking into reality with tears streaking her face, remnants of the dream echoing within its absence.

The first time she had this dream was on the night of her sixteenth birthday. Ever since, she had been searching for her. Throughout the world, on a sacred quest but all in vain. She wasn't one to simply wait for destiny to claim her and yet, this time, she decided to wait.

So when Kurusugawa Himeko approached her today, Fushio Miya responded only with calm and tact. Desperation was evident in every gesture and word of the blonde photographer, not unlike other fans in the past. Were it anyone else, it would have been acceptable: the awe that people have towards celebrities is a condition that society has imposed upon them. But she was supposed to be the one from her dreams, wasn't she?

She wanted nothing more than for this trite conversation to end but at the same time, she wanted to wait… just a little more. She was immediately disappointed as the girl brought up her necklace. It was a well-known fact that she wore this piece of jewelry, having even seen imitations of it on a few fans.

She humoured the blonde on this topic until she found herself caught completely off guard. People always exercised caution around her, showing only what they want others to see. Expression, she had found, is a calculated endeavor.

Yet Kurusugawa Himeko offered her nothing but the truth, allowing her to decide what it was that she wanted to see. And she saw kindness, strength and innocence. Furthermore, she saw devotion. While she had wavered on her quest, this girl before her had never once doubted in her pursuit, evident in the pride in which she spoke about the one who was waiting for her.

For once, she felt the power of impulse. Her words and actions were her own, without the control of thought and the past. Just as the two pieces of seashells were about to connect though, they were interrupted.

Kurusugawa Himeko immediately moved between her and the uninvited guest. Her shoulders were visibly shaking, flinching as the man effortlessly removed his obstacles but still, she remained instead of fleeing with the others.

Everything became a blur of instincts, pain and shock. Even when it was easier to leave without her, the girl stayed by her side, even willing to use her own body to shield her from harm.

As the amateur photographer's body crashed into hers, a sweet supple scent wafted around her. She could not explain what happened next except that a blinding light engulfed them. Within its cradle of infinite arms, a familiar warmth and peace seeped into her skin. Something inside her answered back, dancing with the light and Miya knew for sure… she was the one. Even as death was about to touch them, she found only peace within mankind's worst fear.

When Miya opened her eyes again, she felt tears blurring her vision. On top of her lay the unconscious girl, arms pressing them so close together that Miya could feel her heart beating against hers. They were alive, safe even as she saw no sign of that man. Impulsively, she called the girl's given name, without honorifics. A soft murmur answered her and she knew that Himeko was unharmed.

However, it wasn't long before the quiet air was invaded by the sound of others, flittering down from the stairs. Miya had no choice but to separate their entangled bodies. It would introduce an immense amount of trouble into the girl's life if anyone saw the compromising position in which they were in. To her surprise though, as she gently laid the slumbering girl down onto her back, she spotted what should have been lost amongst the destruction. Their respective pieces of seashell have somehow survived and found their way to remain close to their owners. The chain that looped through the hole, punctured at the top was lost. Scratches marred the once flawless smoothness of the shells but still, after everything, they survived as whole pieces. Miya picked them up and slipped them into her pocket.

Medics and police poured in, most of them surrounding her. She easily waved their attention away, stealing glances towards the unconscious photographer as they lifted her onto the stretcher.

Juri emerged from underneath the large plastic backdrop screen looking disheveled but otherwise unharmed. Her manager, however, wasn't so lucky, brought away, unconscious, on a second stretcher. There was blood running down the left side of her temple, a look of agony etched upon her doll-like features. She too, had gotten hurt, trying to protect her and it made Miya boil with silent rage. On the ambulance, the pianist stayed by her manager's side until they were forced to separate by a flock of doctors at the hospital.

Just to be safe, she insisted that the panther have a check-up. Miya didn't doubt that her request would be met with resistance. To her dismay, Juri countered her with what she thought was the most childish line of reasoning; the former-model will comply as long as she went through a series of unnecessary tests as well. It was difficult to retain an air of composure as they lightly "bantered". Miya knew that it was only out of concern that Juri made such a request and soon relented as did the older woman.

The medical results, as expected, revealed that her health was in good order aside from a few bruises. Juri's revealed a similar outcome aside from two stitches to her left thigh. Kisaragi Otoha, wheeled away two hours later, suffered a minor concussion and two cracked ribs. She also made a courtesy inquiry about the security guards who were present, followed by, as discretely as she could, Kurusugawa Himeko. Doctors informed her that the blonde photographer had simply passed out and will regain consciousness in due course.

Of course, with her and Juri cleared to leave, the police were eager to document the incident. The older woman took immediate charge, calling lawyers and making other arrangements. Under other circumstances, she would have felt indignant by the implication that she needed protection. This time, however, she took the opportunity to slip into the eighth floor after finding out where her manager and the photographer were situated from Juri.

Quietly, she entered Room #870, feeling guilty for choosing this as her first destination. The windows were open with the setting sun boldly stepping in with various shades of red, orange and purple. It was a nice clean space if not for the pungent smell of disinfectants distinct to hospitals.

Miya kept her footing light, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," she whispered.

Leaning down, she brushed aside Himeko's blonde bangs and pressed her lips lightly against the slumbering girl's forehead. The simple contact made her heart race, fingers tracing reminiscently over the contours of that innocent face.

She knew she couldn't stay here long for Juri could only deflect the prying gaze of the media for so long. But she feared that Himeko would wake up alone, thinking that she had abandoned her. Swiftly, Miya retrieved the two salvaged pieces of seashells. She then took Himeko's right hand into her own and placed the pendants into the center of her palm. Guiding the limp fingers, she closed them tightly with her own. She knew the girl would understand what it meant and that they'll see each other soon. Just not now.

"Thank you for finding me," said Miya.

She took one last look before slipping quietly out to face the world.

The first thing that Kisaragi Otoha saw when she woke up was the one thing that she did not want to see in this entire world.

Arisugawa Juri with her ridiculously curled tangerine locks and a look that reeked of arrogance was sitting BESIDE her in a chair by her bed as if deriving some sort of sick amusement at the sight of her bedridden and injured. A headache was already throbbing in her head and she did not need that conceited harlot to worsen it.

Any other normal decent human being would have at least said "How are you feeling?" or "Are you alright". However, being abnormal with an ego the size of Jupiter, the first thing that Arisugawa Juri said to her was "You may thank me now for saving your life."

Indignant, she quickly spat out "No, you didn't!", enduring the reverberating pain that it caused to her ribs. In nowhere in her memory did she remember such an event happening.

To her horror, the tall possibly anorexic ex-model deadpanned her answer: "Did too."

"Did not!" was her reflexive rejoinder.

What followed, without her even realizing it, was the most irrational and juvenile argument of "Did not" and "Did too" between two adults.

As she was heaving with anger, Revolution's CEO finally stopped the childish exchange after her last "Did not!"

"Miya is fine the way."

"I figured since you had time to argue with me over something so ridiculous," grumbled Otoha, "Where is ojou-sama?"

"Somewhere around the hospital."

"What?! How could you let her out of your sight when there's a psyc--"

"Exactly," interrupted Juri, "Something isn't right. That man that attacked her this morning… he had powers that can't possibly be classified as normal."

Otoha fell silent. The man had superhuman strength as well as the ability to move his weapon as if it were an extension of his body.

"So Miya will be staying with me for the next couple of days."

She immediately opened her mouth to protest but Juri simply drowned her out by rising her voice.

"—Until you've recovered that is."

Otoha refused to nod in consent so she let her wordless disapproval be her grudging answer.

"Also, you were unconscious at the time but the studio was basically crumbling down on us… how odd that none of it hit us," murmured Juri as if having an inner dialogue out loud. When she had reached Otoha, she was unsure whether to move her or not with the damage that the small woman had sustained. With the destruction around them, getting worst by the insane rampage of the intruder, then and there, Juri decided to stay where they were. She threw the plastic screen over them both in hopes that it would at least protect them from shrapnels of glass and other debris. She then remember seeing and feeling a powerful light through the plastic covering. Within its protective warmth, she forgot all about the danger that surrounded them until the sound of help pierced the silence. When Juri tossed the screen away, to her amazement and shock, the wreckage of spotlights and shattered equipment encircled them as if an invisible boundary prevented any of it to cross its circumference.

In all honestly, Juri did not expect answers but she did concede that the bedridden woman was devoted to Miya's protection and deserved to be informed about such serious matters. This wasn't just lunch after all.

However, before Otoha had a chance to share her insights, the door swung open to reveal Fushio Miya.

"Did I interrupt something?" asked the pianist, polite and poised as always.

"No, Otoha was just thanking me for saving her life."

"No, I wasn't!!" exclaimed the enraged manager before she could stop herself.

"Were too."

Otoha almost bit her tongue from preventing the obvious answer from escaping her mouth.

END Chapter 5


A/N: Nothing important, just a heads-up type of thing. I think I've decided to make "Reset" a sort of an experimental writing space. It won't be edited, just me, firing whatever that comes just to gauge how well I do on my own. So there will be more mistakes and some things won't be as smooth but I think this will be a good exercise for me, especially in developing speed.