Title: Silence Devoid of The Meaning Author: Dark Day for Anime (Mark A Page) Email: ayanami@merlin.net.au ICQ: 9845111 IRC: Saitou^Hajime on DALnet #AJAS Fic Rating: R The characters portrayed within are the creation of Takeuchi Naoko, and are used without her permission. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Silence Devoid of The Meaning by DDFA This is the second sequel to "A Darker Shade of Pale". -------------------------------------------------------------------- She had to protect herself from the people out there. They wanted to destroy her, subsume her into some mindless sense of purpose and duty.... She had almost allowed herself to slip into a state of compliance, but she was smarter than that. There was a girl, name of Wakabara Yayoi. Makoto had known her, but all too briefly, in her first Junior High school. She was a tall, thin and lanky girl, with longish fawn-coloured hair.... With their mutually unusual heights, both she and Yayoi were likely to fall into each others' company. Makoto peered out of the window. The sun was setting now. After an entire day of ranting and raving, trying to get the voices out of her head, she had calmed. As had the voices, which were now nothing more than a dull rumble. Calming, yet with a hint of menace, that they would return with renewed vigour. Makoto didn't want to hear those voices. She wanted to sanctify her body and spirit against the melting-away of her being, into the common purpose. Friendships were short in those days, but they seemed to last close to forever. Something to do with the warped perception of time one has when one is young. The days went on forever, and weeks were an eternity. Their friendship had lasted approximately seven weeks, but it had been enough time for a young girl, such as Makoto, now devoid of parents, to claim an emotional connection.... To turn Yayoi into a barrier against the harshness of what it was she had had to face.... They had always been after her. Standing on the street corners, waiting for her to pass by on her way to and from school. It was as if there had been some sign, flashing above her head, that said "fight me".... Unsurprisingly, since she had been taller than any other girl her age. After the first few fights, she had tired of being thugged on by others, and had chosen to seek them out, handing out her own form of thuggish justice to those who preyed on the weak. Yayoi had been strong, too.... Stronger-willed than Makoto had ever been. That was another reason Makoto liked her. The pair of them were able to back each other up in times of crisis. And in this particular school, that had been altogether too often. There was a desire to keep rogue elements in line amongst certain elements of the school's population. It was not uncommon for beatings, bordering on out and out abuse and torture, to occur under the guidance of members of the school's student body. Naturally, neither Yayoi, nor Makoto, were particularly enamored of these methods. They were out there. She could see them.... People passing by in the street. Occasionally, one would look up at her, then look away. She loved the way they feigned disinterest, as if they were going on with their daily routine. Quaintly amusing, in a way.... If not for the fact that it was all so false. Such things as daily routine were a fantasy, devised by those who controlled the common purpose, to make sure the cycles of the world ticked away like clockwork. How she despised them all, for giving in to the conditioning.... For sacrificing their individuality. She had managed to retain her individuality, no matter how negative it had been, all of these years. One day, Yayoi had disappeared. Vanished, just like that. Her parents had been very upset, as had Makoto. It was the day after she had been involved in an argument with the school student body president. Makoto didn't know what it had been about, and she was surprised that Yayoi wouldn't allow her even the slightest bit of information as to what had lead into the argument. Yayoi had shunned her for the rest of that day. Makoto was sure she had been in tears. Makoto fingered the tangled and greasy strands of her hair, hanging loose from the usual ponytail she had chosen to wear as a mark of her individuality. In truth, it was nothing more than an attempt at appearing socially acceptable. It never really worked. People still regarded her by reputation, rather than personality. Even now, her reputation was darkening her relationships with the closest of friends she'd ever had. Was ever likely to have. She had begged with the president, in the wake of Yayoi's disappearance, for information about the argument.... What had lead to it and such. He remained stern and tight-lipped, warning her never to bring it up in conversation around him, again. The whole affair had made Makoto feel vulnerable, and she didn't like feeling vulnerable. She became violent. Anyone who even dared look at her in the wrong way was fair game. She knew how to fight, and she fought often. In those moments, there seemed no greater pleasure than to see the blood of her opponents fly, to hear the crunching of bone.... Fighting is not enough. She knew she had to build up the barriers of protection around her, even if it meant cutting off all those who cared about her. Their concern was almost certainly false. Nobody had really cared about her. Nobody but Yayoi. It was strange, though, how much Yayoi reminded her of Usagi. She felt tears come to her eyes, and she slid down with her back to the wall, below the window. Usagi really DID care, didn't she? Her concern wasn't just some fluke of destiny's path? She had been transferred not long after.... The school just couldn't deal with the concept of such a violent female student. Not that there weren't tough girls within the student body, it was just the level of violence which she had displayed.... The anger she was feeling.... A kind of anger that seemed to have no true source, and no purposeful target. She just needed to express her anger to the world, even with the negative results that it brought. She never did hear about what had happened to Yayoi. Not for a while, anyway. Usagi had picked her up at the point of her transfer.... Nobody else was willing to deal with a girl who got off on breaking noses. Usagi really didn't care very much about her reputation, just the lunch Makoto had made for herself. And Makoto was more than willing to share that lunch with her. Of course, she realised now that Usagi was probably more interested in the food than she was in her, but it didn't matter.... It had been a while since someone had appreciated something about her. And Usagi had been so forward, too.... The forwardness broke through the wall she had built up around herself. The same forwardness that Yayoi had displayed. Yayoi had just jumped in, headfirst. That was what the police had said. The body was quite decomposed, and had been made a meal of by whatever was hungry enough. It had been a dark time in Makoto's life. There were missing memories in her mind.... Something about having died. Of course, she wasn't too afraid of death, after all, if you've died once, it's a kind of a nothing experience when it happens again. But it was the thought, of some bloated, festering corpse, being found and identified as Yayoi, that had upset her. When she had died, she had vanished into nothingness, with an almost painless abandon. Yayoi's way of death seemed like.... Like.... Like silence, devoid of any meaning.... Just a sudden moment of total physical annihilation and violation. Total corruption of the body.... Not that the body was worth much.... Just a stinking, nauseating bad on blood and bones, carrying some putrefying soul on into infinity, or killing the soul with its own physical demise. Makoto placed her hands over her ears as she tried to shut out the sounds of her own sobs. She was too evil to feel sorry for.... She hated herself and she hated everybody else. They all wanted to control her or kill her and she understood why. They killed Yayoi, and now they wanted her to follow. The world was starting to slip away, in much the same way it had earlier. Reality, dying with the last of her self-worth. And then the phone rang, and it all came back into clarity.... harsh, sharp and painful. She let the phone ring once.... twice.... thrice... She leapt forward, scrambling across the floor to the table where it was sitting. Four times, five times, six times. She held the table for support with her left hand, allowing her right to slip up to the receiver, lifting it, and placing it against her head. "Moshi moshi.... Mako-chan?" The voice was high-pitched, concerned. Makoto swallowed, not immediately recognising the voice. "Yayoi?" She whispered into the mouthpiece. There was a few moments of silence from the other end. Then.... "Mako-chan? Are you alright? We didn't see you today, and we were worried...." "Usagi?" She whispered again. "Mako-chan, are you okay? Who is Yayoi?" "Usagi....chan...." Makoto swallowed. "Help me..." A vision passed Makoto's eyes. It was Yayoi, smiling at her. -------------------------------------------------------------------- "I've always felt at home with the dead." Tom Baker _________ / @ \ DDFA (The Right Dishonourable Mark A Page) / / ^ ^ \ \ ayanami@merlin.net.au /\ Chief Propoganda Officer, Keeper of \/ \/ the Tapes and Co-Founder of the Saitou-chan \___________/ Appreciation Society - Adelaide Japanese /_/ \_\ PU Animation Society Version 1.0 - Sunday, 22nd November 1998