Subject: [FFML] [Orig] Missy Foxglove #2 -- "The Portrait of her Fear" (part one-draft-incomplete)
From: David Homerick
Date: 9/30/1997, 4:17 AM
To: fanfic@fanfic.com

Part one is available at :

ftp://ftp.cs.ubc.ca/pub/archive/anime-fan-works/Miscellaneous/orig.missy-foxglove.pilot.gz

I strongly recommend reading it first.

If you can't gunzip, for whatever reason, e-mail me (dhomeric@jps.net)
and I'll send you a copy
 
 
 
 
 

****

        The day after Licorice was killed, Tsuneishi met with Sato at
his Tokyo mansion.  Built on the site of a prewar shrine, the house
stood in the center of a beautiful stand of grassy woods incalculable in
value.  Tsuneishi loved the house, but had always felt a superstitious
dread that the _Kami_ -- the gods and spirits of Shinto -- would someday
take back the site and drive him out.  Impossible, of course, he would
have said once, but with magical girls now walking the narrow streets of
Tokyo it was growing much harder to say exactly what was impossible, and
the thought sat in his mind much less quietly than in the past.
        Sato's report on the Licorice hit was another thing that did not
sit in his mind quietly.  Although the girl Missy had performed her task
successfully, she had wasted an inordinate amount of time dithering
about beforehand.  Tsuneishi thought this showed an unreliability in her
character, but Sato defended the girl, saying she was merely
experiencing difficulty in adjusting to her role.  A gust of wind
rustled through the trees and Tsuneishi shivered.  He wanted nothing to
do with magic girls.
        "The Four are doing the most serious damage," said Tsuneishi. 
"They should be next on your agenda.  Licorice was basically harmless--
a nuisance, at worst.  Your girl's been blooded; she should be ready,
and the Four are embarrassing me."
        "She may not be ready for the Four," Sato replied.  "One-on-one,
yes, but not together.  They're never apart, and their teamwork is
admirable."
        "Make her ready," said Tsuneishi.  "Arrange it soon."

        Michie came into her first class just before the late bell
rang.  Mr. Muramoto, her teacher, frowned at her and gestured for her to
take her seat.  Michie bowed her head apologetically and moved down the
third aisle toward her assigned place.  But there was no empty seat. 
Michie stopped, thinking she had walked down the wrong aisle, but then
she saw the special left-handed desk she had asked for.  Some strange
girl was sitting in her seat.
        "Take your seat, Michie-chan," ordered the teacher.
        "Sensei, someoneÕs taken my seat.  Get out of my seat!"
        "Don't make trouble, Michie-chan.  You're late as it is."
        The girl raised her head, and Michie felt a cold wave of fear as
she recognised her.  It was the girl from the store.  Licorice.
        The girl she had killed.
        The girl gazed calmly at Michie, livid scrapes across her cheek
and jaw, flesh partly torn away.  Michie stood rooted and speechless.
        "Take your seat," the teacher ordered again.
        Instead, Michie passed out.

            *   *   *
            MISSY FOXGLOVE
                By
            David Homerick.

            Episode #2
            "The Portrait of her Fear"

            *  *  *

        The nurse was puzzled and concerned, and asked questions which
Michie answered vaguely.  Her parents were dead, and she had a guardian,
who probably wasn't home right now, and she had taken faint because she
had, er, missed breakfast.  Could she go, please?
        You mustn't miss breakfast, the nurse told her.  It's the most
important meal of the day.
        The girl had followed her to the nurse's office, walking a few
steps behind, and when Michie left for the classroom, the girl followed
her again.  The class eyed her as she entered.  As she approached her
seat, the girl appeared in it again, but Michie held her breath and
slipped in anyway.  A momentary chill, and things were fine.
        "Feeling better, Michie-chan?" asked the teacher.
        "Oh, yes."  Michie smiled, brightly she thought.
        "Are you sure?  You still look peaked."
        Michie nodded.  Muramoto turned back to his lesson, but the girl
appeared slowly beside him, unhurt this time, and in her magic-girl
form.  She watched Michie steadily, but Michie refused to look at her
for the rest of the day.

        Chisa intercepted Michie as she walked home after school. 
"Hello, Michie-chan!" she sang merrily.  "Did you have a good time in
Tokyo?  Oh.  My," she faltered, seeing Michie's expression.  Michie
forced herself to smile.
        "Hello, Chisa-chan!  How was your day?"
        Chisa backed away a pace.  "Is that supposed to be a smile?"
        "Isn't it?"
        "No.  You look like a skull."
        "Oh.  I'm sorry."
        "No, it's okay.  You don't have to be happy.  You can be mopey
and depressed if you want to.  Not that you *want* to be mopey and
depressed, I mean, who does?  But if you feel mopey and depressed, you
don't have to pretend to be happy and cheerful just because I'm around. 
It's okay to be mopey and depressed around me.  I don't mind.  Am I
making sense?  Sometimes I don't make sense."
        "You make sense," said Michie, and smiled.  "And thank you."
        "Now that's a real smile," said Chisa solemnly.
        Michie caught a glimpse of Licorice out of the corner of her eye
and her smile became pained.  Remembering Chisa's words, she let it
drop.
        Can I be happy and cheerful around you?" asked Chisa.  "I mean,
does it bother you?"
        "No, I like it.  Please do."
        "Whoa.  Pressure."  Chisa frowned.
        "That's not cheerful."
        "Don't push me.  I can do this."
        "Sorry."  Michie looked away, caught another glance of Licorice,
and looked up at the sky.
        "Are you all right?" asked Chisa.  "I mean, you're acting like
something's like, really wrong or something."
        "I can't talk about it.  Please.  I just can't."
        "Okay," said Chisa slowly.  "You don't have to."
        Chisa fell into an uncharacteristic silence, but stayed with
Michie all the way home.

        At the entrance to her apartment building, Michie paused and
turned to Chisa.  "Would you like to come upstairs?  I don't really feel
like being alone right now."
        Chisa nodded.  The doorman bowed as they entered, and Chisa
craned her neck at the spacious lobby.  "It's like something on TV," she
said.
        Michie led her over to the elevator.  "A lot of rich people used
to live here," she said, "but not so many anymore.  And they had to lay
off the elevator girl."  She pressed the fourth-floor button and the
doors slid closed.  Something shifted behind her and she knew, without
turning around, that the girl was standing there.  She glanced at Chisa,
but Chisa was watching the floor indicator.
        "Kinda quiet," said Michie, with a nervous laugh.
        "Yeah," said Chisa, "quiet.  It..."  she trailed off.  "Yeah."
        A bell rang as the elevator reached the fourth floor, making
both girls jump.  Michie led Chisa down the hallway without looking
back.  As she fumbled with the lock, she said, "My guardian travels a
lot, so he rented this apartment for me so I wouldn't have to keep, um,
travelling."
        She pushed the door open and stepped back, giving Chisa a good
view.  A quick check over her shoulder revealed no sign of Licorice. 
She hustled her friend into the room and shut the door.  Chisa soberly
removed her shoes and placed them in the cabinet.  She walked slowly to
the center of the room and stood there.  Michie watched her turn her
head slowly, surveying the room.
        "So what do you think?" she said.  Chisa didn't reply.  The air
began to feel thick.  "Well, say something."
        Chisa didn't move.  "I..."  She trailed off again.
        "Say something!" screamed Michie, and Chisa whirled to face her,
eyes frightened.  Michie sank to her knees and held out her hands
pleadingly.  "Oh, please.  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry, Chisa.  Please
forgive me.  I won't.  I won't ever.  Oh, please."  Tears filled her
eyes and clogged her nose and throat.
        "This is part of the bad thing," said Chisa.  "The thing you
can't tell me about.  I can feel it."
        Michie nodded, choking, tears spilling over.  Chisa crossed the
room, knelt beside her, and cradled Michie's head against her neck. 
Michie clung to her, crying.
        They stayed like that a long time, and Michie slowly slid down
until her head lay in Chisa's lap and drew her knees to her chest. 
Chisa stroked her hair gently as she sobbed.
        "I wish you could tell me," Chisa said softly.
        "No," whispered Michie.  "No."
        "You don't have to."

        Michie didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she awoke more
than an hour later.  Her face was sticky with tears and her hair was
tangled.  Chisa was gone, and a pillow had been placed under Michie's
head.  She sat up.
        Casting about the room, she found a note on the glass table.  It
was from Chisa.
        <<Hi!  I'm sorry but I had to go & I didn't want to wake u. 
Thank u 4 inviting me over.  I'm sorry about whatever your problem is
even if u can't tell me.  I guess it must be pretty bad.  NEways, this
is a really nice place, & everything's really pretty, but I don't think
I could live here.  I'd be afraid I'd break something.
        <<There's no school next Saturday, so I was thinking we could
hang out or do something.  Naoko's busy 'cause of something about cram
school, but I thought maybe u wouldn't be.  You don't have to, but I
thought you might feel better if u could have some fun. (over)>>
        Michie flipped the note over.  <<You're kinda weird but I like
u.>>  She crumpled the note in one hand and watched the sun set behind
the mountains to the west.
        <<Am I crazy?  Seeing things, crying all the time -- maybe I'm
having a nervous breakdown.  I must have frightened Chisa terribly,
screaming like that.  I should make it up to her, but I don't know how. 
She's been so considerate, and I've been... nothing.>>
        The last bit of the sun slid away, and the red glow of the
clouds was all that remained.  Michie felt the girl behind her again,
and spoke quietly without turning.
        "I'm sorry.  I didn't want to do it, but I had to.  I don't
expect you to understand or forgive, but I truly, truly had no ill will
toward you.  I don't know why or how you've returned, or what you want
from me, or even if you're real or not, but I want you to know that I am
sorry."  She turned around.  The girl was standing there, looking the
way she had looked at the water fountain.  Michie remembered the girl's
touch on her shoulder and the concerned voice in her ear.  She lowered
her head.
        They stood that way for a long time, Michie closed her eyes as
she waited.  She no longer felt uneasy, but calm, even peaceful.
        << You killed me. >>  The girl did not speak aloud, but her
words sliced across Michie's mind, cold and bitter as poison.  << You
murdered me, and now you offer me an *apology*? >>  Michie raised her
head.  The girl had become a mangled, decaying corpse, torn flesh slowly
rotting away.  Sunken eyes pinned Michie like an insect, and her breath
froze in her chest.  << Your apology is *rejected*! >>
          A knock came at the door, startling Michie violently.  As she
flinched, Licorice vanished as if she had never existed.  She gasped,
stumbled, caught herself, and glanced around the room.  There was no
sign of the dead girl.  She walked unsteadily to the door, uncertain as
to whether she was haunted or hallucinating.
         She opened the door.  It was Sato.
        "_Ojisan,_" she said.  I... come in."
        Sato stepped through and waited quietly as Michie shut the
door.  They both stood quietly for a moment.
        "Hello, Michie-chan," said Sato.  "Have you been feeling
better?"
        "Yes," said Michie.  "No.  Why are....  Do you have another...
another killing?"
        "Don't think of it as killing," said Sato.  "Think of it as
serving the family."
        "I'll try."
        Sato reached out and lightly touched her cheekbone with one
knuckle.  "You should have grown up without this," he said.  "This is a
cruel business, Michie-chan, and not one for young girls.  I wouldn't
have brought you in if it hadn't been necessary.  You understand that,
don't you?"
        "You do have something."  Michie turned and moved away.
        "Yes."  Sato reached up and touched his glasses.  "Four girls."
        "Four?"
        "Four.  Very clever and determined.  They have been the sharpest
and most barbed of the thorns in the side of the Family."   He opened a
briefcase and brought out a thick manila envelope.  "Four girls at once
will not be easy, though we will make sure you have every advantage." 
He paused.  Michie looked over her shoulder at him.  "But we have to
know when you are ready.  Do you know?"
        Michie looked away.  "No.  I need... time.  To rest, to...
think.  I... I feel ill.  Full of snakes.  You said I had a strong
heart, but I don't think I do.  I feel weak and... and ill."
        "Look at me."
        Michie turned back.  Sato regarded her steadily.
        "Remember who you are," he said quietly.  "Remember what you owe
us.  You are part of the Family, and there is a code that separates us
and binds us together.  We will wait for you to prepare yourself, but we
will not wait forever.  Do not malinger, Michie-chan, for you will lose
more than you gain."
        "I'm not.  I just... I need some time."
        "I would like you to be ready by Saturday.  Can you do that?"
        "I...  I don't know.  Maybe."
        "If you say yes, you won't be able to back out.  We have
preparations to make."
        "Chisa asked me if I wanted to do something with her on
Saturday.  Can I do that and... and do the other thing later?"
        Sato nodded.  The Saturday after next, then.  We can do it in
the evening, like last time."  He handed the envelope to her.  "Go over
this material very carefully.   Preparation is the key."  He bent and
kissed her forehead, then left, closing the door quietly.
        Michie turned and was faced with Licorice again.  The girl
smiled wryly.  <<A flexible schedule, I see.  You can go out with your
friend and still get your killing done.>>
        "What do you want?"
        <<Ooh.  Sailor Z'ha'dum.  I'd like a blue Tamagotch, and a
pretty new dress, and maybe I'd like my life back.  Don't you think?>>
        "Please don't play games.  You must want something from me."
        <<I don't suppose you'd consider seppuku?  No?  Wouldn't do me
any good anyway.  Tell me this, then:  Why am I dead?>>
        "You must have done something."  Michie stepped past the girl
and gazed out her window.  The purple sky was turning black.  City
lights flickered on as the stars emerged.  "You were... 'interfering.' 
I don't know how, but I know the family doesn't hit civilians."  But she
couldn't help remembering the child on the roof, and the crocodiles. 
She continued to look out the window, refusing to face her accuser. 
"Could you go, please?  I have homework to do."
        No answer came.  Eventually Michie ordered a meal and began her
homework, resolutely ignoring the occasional stirring in her mind.

        The week passed.  Michie's guest continued to accompany her to
school and back, but Michie became adept at ignoring the girl's
appearances and acid comments.  She made a special point of being
solicitous of Chisa, who responded gratefully.  Chisa had been lonely;
it seemed most of the other girls considered her tiresome, with a knack
for blurting out the wrong thing at the wrong time.  Worse, she was
always badly out of touch with the teenage fads and fashions, which were
always changing and took money Chisa didn't have.  The resultant
shunning was subtle but deeply wounding to the naturally gregarious
girl.  Only Naoko had stuck with her, more, Michie suspected, from a
sense of duty than from genuine friendship.  Michie also learned that
Naoko would be going to a private high school intended to prepare
students for medical school while Chisa would go to a local public
school.  At that point, as Chisa put it, "We'll be over."
        Michie met Chisa's boyfriend, Yoshio, and disliked him
immediately.  He met the two one day during lunch, kissed Chisa roughly,
put an arm about her shoulders, and made a crude pass at Michie.   Chisa
giggled anxiously at Michie's white-lipped glare, but Yoshio, taken
aback, claimed to have been joking and changed the subject to Chisa's
alleged jealous nature.  Later, when the girls were alone, Chisa begged
Michie to overlook Yoshio's behavior.  "He's not bad, he's just kinda
immature.  Give him a chance, OK?  Naoko doesn't like him..."  -- <<Good
for Naoko,>> supplied Licorice -- "... and I want my friends to get
along.  Please?"
        Michie sighed.  "I'll try, Chisa.  But he's your boyfriend, and
he shouldn't talk like that.  Especially in front of you."
        "I'm sure he's sorry.  He didn't mean anything."
        <<Hypocrite,>> said Licorice.  <<Who are you to look down on
him?>>
        Michie also studied the material left by Sato.  There was a
professional-looking videotape with an episode of the old "Minky Momo"
show at the beginning and footage of the four girls at the end, some
from TV news and some apparently gathered by the Family itself.  There
were dossiers of the four girls, rather incomplete, and written reports
from Family members who had encountered them.  Finally, there was a
detailed map of a warehouse of some kind, with overhead catwalks,
blinds, secret doors, and plenty of traps.  Written on it in Sato's hand
was "It will take place here."  All of the papers were bound together
and labelled "The Four: A supplement for the Magic Girl Game."
 

*****

At this point, I need to develop concepts and personalities for the four
girls, which I haven't done yet.  The only thing I know for sure is that
one of them can generate blinding flashes of light.

I also want to go back and redo Chisa's early scene.  I think she's a
little too sweet and understanding.  I'll also expand the bit with
Yoshio and Chisa.

In fact, I'm generally dissatisfied with the story as it stands so far,
and I can't tell what's bothering me.

-- David