.: Doubt Dream Defy :.
.: One Boutique to Two Girls :.
Sound of rain beating against thin glass complemented the roaring thunder, as occasional flashes from heavenly summits illuminated the small bedroom: fading light lapping at the seemingly lifeless body that lay on the bed. Only the repeating pattern, a small rise and fall of her chest under the mass of snowy covers, assured the writer that she was simply asleep. His shadow scuttled across the sheets as he lowered into a nearby chair. Leaning forward slowly, he rested elbows on knees, head in hands - the weight of blame crushing his very soul.
Upon looking up, his gaze fixed onto the young girl, desperate for any signs indicative of her waking.
The wait was longer than anticipated and very soon, Fakir began to imbibe the softened features of Ahiru's face. In sleep, she looked peaceful and yet he could still detect the lingering allusion of unhappiness. Her flaming hair, still a bit damp, was pasted messily around her face, to which the gentle hands brushed away and carefully placed behind her ears.
Unsolicited was the longing that breached several precincts of Fakir's moral fibre when his eyes, tracing the lines of Ahiru's fair face, came to rest on pink lips. It was then that he had to turn away, disregarding desire as trickery - which ought not to be trusted.
Nevertheless, even with his back to Ahiru, the thought of her could not be driven away. The scene of finding her on the street kept replaying in his head; his reaction, her apology - her reason for leaving the safe confines of their home echoed in the back of his mind. 'I'm sorry. I only wanted to look for you.'
Certainly, what had been said was genuine, for he could recall hearing her concern. However, despite this fact, to Fakir it became even more concerning.
He understood the repercussions resulting from untamed emotions. Perhaps too well and, thus, would not allow feeling to overrule rationality under any circumstance. Yet, the nature of his actions contradicted this very practice and, had liberated a side of him that he had meticulously masked with sneers and absolute indifference; the dire truth being, Ahiru was the trigger to begin it all.
A flurry of questions assailed the writer, countered by illusory excuses. 'Is she not still in love with Mytho? Of course, she is… but when did her words, her feelings become a concern for me? No, it's not possible; I could not care less about what she says or how she feels. It was a mistake, my mistake. I had acted without thinking…'
Realisation clouted Fakir; his conviction of his feelings for the girl crumbled beneath him.
For the duration of their time together, Fakir had ensured that his feelings for the duck were simply based on the duty of protecting her as he had promised; it was an obligation and nothing more.
The foundations of their relationship were carefully constructed; from the very beginning, he had treated her as an acquaintance. Their first few months together deemed the most difficult, each not able to understand the other. Her profound optimistic but selfless nature had often agitated him.
However, as time progressed, he had learnt to tolerate and accept it. The connection between them soon thrived to become something more; they were good friends. Still, he disliked the familiarised term, 'friends' and thus rarely used the word.
Perhaps it was the company he lacked, her persistent temperament, or the work of an omnipresent being but no matter what it was, his view of her had changed: strengthening the bond between man and duck.
'But she isn't a duck anymore,' argued logic.
It was true; she was not a duck any more. She was a girl.
A cough shattered Fakir's ponderings. He turned to see Ahiru rising and swiftly moved to her side.
'Ahiru, are you alright?"
Ahiru clutched at the quilt that covered her chest as Fakir helped her shift into a sitting position; fingers careful not to brush against her skin.
The poor girl struggled to answer the question, so she nodded instead.
He was relieved when he saw her response and deciding it better not to bombard her with questions for the time being, insisted that she rest.
Ahiru did not protest. Very soon, she was asleep again.
The stir of comfort was replaced by unease as fingers met the abandoned piece of parchment once more.
Emerald eyes studied each line carefully; determined to find an explanation for the changes occurring.
Morning greeted the town; Ahiru felt a gentle tap on her shoulder and the hushed reiteration of her name.
Instinctively, she sat up as her eyes, clouded from sleep, fluttered open. She stretched her arms in an attempt to drive away the weariness, unconsciously letting the snowy covers tumble down her chest and crumple at her waist. A murmur pf words muffled by a stifled yawn followed, "Oh, Fakir, I had such a bad dream last night. I thought you were gone and I went searching for you a… a… and… I turned back into a girl again…"
Silence…
"F… F… Fakir?" Ahiru stammered as she rubbed the haze away from her eyes and saw clearly that her companion had his back turned to her. "What is it Fakir?"
Silence… again.
'How pathetic is she!' the less-than-kind side of the writer yelled to himself as rising heat teased at his skin.
Nevertheless, stating the obvious was not an option, especially if the poor girl is dim-witted enough to miss the minor detail that she had not encountered the gross clutches of a nightmare and indeed, had transformed back into human form.
So, sternly, Fakir hinted as best he could without crushing the girl's spirit, "Ahiru, look at yourself!"
The girl obediently followed the given instructions. She smiled at what she saw. Her fingers feeling lips instead of beak, arms instead of wings, toes instead of webbed feet, and skin instead of feathers. Happily, she squealed, "Fakir! I'm a girl again! It wasn't a dream, it was real!"
Although he still had his back to Ahiru, Fakir could feel her excitement engulf him and he, too, smiled but he sustained his stern approach as he continued rather coldly, " Moron! Of course I know the dream wasn't real, otherwise I wouldn't have my back turned to you!"
Ahiru ignored the derogative title that Fakir proceeded to use, blushed, and covered herself as best as she could with the quilt.
"You can turn around now," she said shyly, her blush deepening in colour.
Fakir didn't move, instead his hands renowned for writing, tightened around the white bathrobe he'd been holding for quite some time. A moment passed before he shook his head and placed the piece of clothing on the foot of the bed.
"It's the only thing I could find for you to wear, for the time being."
With that, he moved to the door, abruptly halting when he heard a faint whimper of, "Where are you going?"
Sighing, he replied sharply, "I have some things to do, I'll be back soon… and stay where you are until I get back," before leaving the room, without a backward glance.
Ahiru, though slightly disappointed by Fakir's reaction, proceeded to cover her bare shoulders with his bathrobe. The garment clung to her form and flowed down past her knees, reaching the wooden floors and developing into a small train of white around her.
A smile adorned the delicate face as long legs wobbled to the open window. 'Hmm… did Fakir write a story for me?' Ahiru wondered.
Outside, melodic chatter exchanged between two bluebirds left Ahiru in a slight trance, oblivious to the lingering gaze of emerald eyes below.
Fakir rounded corners and walked down streets, all the while thinking of Ahiru and taking care not to step into the puddles left behind by the storm.
'It wouldn't have been appropriate for me to turn around anyway…' Fakir consoled himself, 'besides I… it would be hard to…'
Words simply eluded the young man. Nevertheless, his contemplation of all the reasons possible to explain himself ended when he reached his destination - a small boutique he'd passed many times but never thought of entering.
Fakir inhaled deeply, 'I suppose there's always a first for everything.'
The chime of a bell sounded as he stepped into the shop.
Looking around, the boutique was spacious and stylishly decorated. Two large windows occupied by mannequins dressed in the latest fashion overlooked the street. The colour of russet carpeted the floors, contrasting with walls painted gold. Smaller chandeliers framed a fairly larger one that hung in the middle of the pale ceiling. A red-cedar counter stood in the centre of the scope, whilst a row of clothes ran along the walls like a border from one side of the room to the other. The fashion between genders, were divided at the back by a wide passage with dressing rooms and mirrors.
The shop looked empty.
All of a sudden, a fusion of purple and white swept past Fakir; sending the young man into a spin before he steadied himself, staring at a rather feminine face.
"Oh! Welcome, welcome! Welcome to 'Faber und Faber,' the best boutique in Kinkan. I am Fleance, and how may I help you this fine morning, sir?" asserted, whom Fakir assessed, as the shop assistant.
The fellow strongly reminded him of Femio. His hair was shorter and darker in colour, his eyes were plum, complementing his lilac suit perfectly, but other than that, his height and mannerisms resembled that of the vainglorious classmate of his.
When Fakir failed to formulate a response, Fleance did his best to compensate for the stillness.
"Sir, I don't believe I've seen you before in my father's shop, are you looking for something in particular? For a formal occasion, business or… to impress a girl perhaps?" Fleance winked, beaming.
Fakir, startled, felt the momentary heat lick at his cheeks. His face remained indifferent though, as he answered, "I'm looking for some things… for a friend of mine."
"Oh! So not for yourself, sir?" Fleance said, bringing a hand up to rub his chin, looking as if he was half in thought. "Well, is your friend a 'miss'?"
Fakir nodded once.
"Very well then, have you anything in mind? Did she say what she would like? What colours does your friend prefer? Any styles you might like to see on her?" Fleance questioned as he dashed to the right side of the shop and started to run his hands through the numerous items of clothing that were in sight.
Fakir paused, the heat in his cheeks raged dangerously. "I… I'm not sure."
Fleance twirled around gracefully to face the writer. "Not sure? Hmm… how about…" the fellow pulled out the pieces he named, a smile, larger than before stretched across his face, "…a white cambresine blouse and matching yellow skirt? Alternatively, how about an éolienne dress, a sweater with a plissé finish? Perhaps a…"
Fakir stood watching the clothes pile up to the side of Fleance as he continued to make suggestions.
When, finally, Fleance had finished, almost half of the clothes in the shop were in a heap on a nearby table.
"So, what would it be?" Fleance asked, flushed from talking so much.
Fakir walked to the heap and grabbed what he could find and thought would be appropriate for Ahiru. He picked out from the heap, a few shirts, skirts and shorts; consisting of colours, white, pale yellow, blue, pinks and purples. He hoped that they would fit.
The clothes chosen, Fleance happily placed them in bags, calculated the price and collected the money from his customer. He handed the bags to Fakir.
"I'm sure your friend will love these!" Fleance smiled. "Oh, and if there ever comes a time when you need something for yourself or your friend for that matter, you can always come in, we tailor suits and dresses as well, especially for formal occasions!" he added as the chime of the bell sounded again.
Fakir stepped out of the boutique. Sighing, he started his walk back. He wondered what Ahiru was doing.
Fakir had nearly reached home when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He hurried and heard the footsteps change pace. He rounded the corner sharply, the footsteps following until they halted abruptly, and losing balance, the two bodies collided with the pebbled street.
"Who are you?" Fakir questioned forcefully, "and why are you following me!"
When the two girls tilted their heads up to stare and the menacing figure that loomed over them, the sound of dropped the bags echoed in the lane.
"Pique? Lilie? What are you doing?"
Both girls stood up slowly, looking at each other then at the young man in front of them.
The girl with blonde hair whispered to the one next to her, "It's your fault Pique; if you were any quieter he wouldn't have noticed us!"
"No it isn't, it was your fault! Don't put the blame on me," Pique countered, equally quiet.
"No, it was your fault…"
Fakir, on the other hand, tired of the bickering and still waiting for an answer, intercepted the two.
"What are you two doing?" the question uttered in an irritated tone.
"Oh, well…" Pique began.
"We were following you to see if you would lead us to Ahiru!" Lilie finished for her.
Both girls smiled sheepishly.
Fakir raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
The two girls looked at each other questioningly, shrugged their shoulders and turned to Fakir with suspicious stares plastered on their faces.
Their looks confused the young man.
"You do know that school started a week ago and there hasn't been any sign of either Ahiru or you yet…" Pique explained.
"Why… why would…?" Fakir started, perplexed.
"Neko-sensei told us to find Ahiru and tell her that she has to attend class tomorrow or else she'll be expelled!" Lilie interrupted.
Fakir remained silent.
"Well, do you know where Ahiru is?" Pique pressed.
"Yeah, we don't want her to be expelled… forever!" Lilie emphasised, although there were a few twinkling stars lurking in her green eyes; obvious that she was foreseeing the torment Ahiru would suffer if she did undergo expulsion.
"…yes," answered Fakir, when he finally found his voice again. "Yes, I know where Ahiru is."
"Good, can you tell her then!" the two girls said in unison.
Fakir merely nodded.
"Good! We'll see you two, tomorrow!" Pique and Lilie beamed, waving goodbye to Fakir, who nodded once again before gathering the bags, turning on his heel and walking away.
When the young man was out of earshot, the two girls whom he had left behind in the lane exchanged a couple of their thoughts.
"He seemed… confused, don't you think?" Lilie proposed to the girl beside her.
Pique nodded her concurrence. "Maybe he really forgot that school started…"
The two girls turned to face each other again, "Weird!" they laughed as they returned to the Academy.
The clock tower chimed twice by the time Fakir made it to the front door of his home. He turned the handle and, pushing it wide open, he was about to take a step forward when he was roughly knocked over and pushed backwards onto the ground. For a moment, he laid fairly still, only lifting a hand up to meet his head when he had come to his senses; his eyebrows knitting together, as he felt an unusual feeling of something, or someone who was rather light and warm, wriggling atop of him.
He opened his eyes two see the familiar cerulean ones blink back.
'I should have known!' Fakir groaned to himself, shaking his head slightly to eliminate the light-headedness caused by the collision.
"What?" Ahiru asked innocently, as she struggled to get off the young man, who by now was feeling rather uncomfortable.
"AHIRU! GET OFF OF ME!" Fakir bellowed at the girl, as he sat up and forced her off him. He stood up, gathered the bags for the second time that day, and proceeded into the house. Ahiru followed silently, closing the door behind her.
Once inside, Fakir continued to his room, Ahiru, trying to explain herself and failing miserably.
"I saw you coming back! So I ran to open the door for you… uh… so I didn't stop quickly enough… I didn't mean to… umm… fall on top of you…" Ahiru said, blushing.
The colour in her cheeks subsiding however, when she noticed that Fakir did not appear to be paying much attention to her.
"…are you listening?" Ahiru finished.
When he did not answer, she threw him a malicious glare, before sighing, bowing her head and dragging her feet up the stairs.
Once he had reached the door to his room, he turned around. Ahiru, who was still looking down, stopped just millimetres from colliding with the body in front of her again. She looked up at Fakir questioningly, who shoved the gold paper bags into her hands.
"Here…" he said, tiredly.
Ahiru looked at the symbol on the bags, "Faber und Faber?"
"They're for you," he explained, ushering her into the room before he proceeded downstairs again.
Confused, Ahiru set the bags on the bed. Her interest as to where her companion had gone when he had left ended when she discovered the contents in the bags. She smiled a little as she admired all the garments Fakir had bought her.
'He went through all this trouble for my sake?' Ahiru thought to herself, her smile growing a little more.
After trying on each piece for size, Ahiru decided to change into a white turtleneck sweeter with a silver outline of a duck stitched in bottom-corner and a long matching skirt. She returned the remaining pieces in the bag, smoothed out her dress and proceeded downstairs to meet Fakir.
"Ahem…" Ahiru coughed quietly to contract the writer's attention.
Fakir looked up at her as she descended the stairs, "They fit then?"
Ahiru nodded.
The two moved to the dining table and sat down.
Ahiru was about to speak, when Fakir interrupted her and spoke first, "I bumped into Pique and Lilie."
"Really!" Ahiru exclaimed, forgetting that she had wanted to assert her thanks before she forgot.
"They told me, that Neko-sensei told them to tell you, that you're expected to attend class tomorrow or else you'll be expelled."
"What!" Ahiru cried out, "But, that's not possible; all the animals were restored to their original forms, even Neko-sensei. Besides, no one remembers me anymore… or at least I thought they'd forgotten about me..."
"That's what I thought too," Fakir began, prior to his memory reminding him of the early stages of an unfinished story on the parchment he now possessed.
"What should we do?"
"If they expect us, we shouldn't disappoint," Fakir answered simply, waiting for the girl to agree.
"Ok," Ahiru chirped cheerfully. 'I'm going to see everyone again!' she thought; the peculiarity of the sudden changes, forgotten.
"You should gather your things, we'll be heading to the Academy early tomorrow morning," Fakir suggested as he got up, out of his chair, and headed for his room.
"Wait!"
Fakir stopped, "What is it now?"
"Oh, I… I want to… thank you, Fakir, for buying me these clothes…" Ahiru stuttered, her hands fiddling with her cotton sleeves.
"You're welcome," came the somewhat rigid reply.
"…and, and for writing a story for me," she completed.
"What?" a look of seriousness pierced the poor girl's confidence. "Who told you that?"
"No one, I just thought…" Ahiru started, wrinkling her nose in thought, "…wait, so you didn't write a story for me, to change me back into a girl again?"
Fakir was not sure how to respond, so he simply said what came to mind, "No, I didn't."
"Then who did?" Ahiru questioned worriedly, hoping that the answer was not 'Drosselmeyer.'
"I don't know," Fakir answered truthfully. Then, sensing Ahiru's unease, he softened his expression. He walked up to her and brought a hand to her shoulder. Worried eyes looked up to meet his. "It doesn't matter who it is that's started this," Fakir said reassuringly, "I will do anything to keep you out of harms way. It's a promise I'm willing to keep…"
Ahiru smiled at his words, the sense of fear vanishing, "Thankyou."
Then, taking Fakir's advice to get, what little she had, ready for tomorrow, Ahiru made her way to the stairs.
His emerald eyes followed her form until she was out of sight. A melancholic smile pulled at his lips, '…with my life,' he vowed, 'with my life.'
This chapter is simply one that, for lack of a better word, acts as a 'joining' chapter. I suppose moves the plot along without rushing it. Some foreshadowing is in play, which will lead to a rather interesting chapter soon. Nevertheless, I do wish you had enjoyed this. (Hopefully, more than my sister who chose to criticise this chapter for its lack of movement.)
Special thanks to: anyone who has taken an interest in this story. The encouragement to continue this has been exquisite. So I apologise for the delay in updates.
Also Special thanks to reviewers: izumi-chan, hakuchou-san, i.swear.to.drunk.im.not.god, Avelera, Eyesopen, Dreamgirllogan, Manda-chan, Itsy-Evil-Spiders, Garshgrl and coolberyl. (Your support has been unbelievable!)
Disclaimer: I've never had the honour of calling Princess Tutu, "Mine!" On the contrary, my younger sister prefers to believe it's hers… even when it's not!