Everything Was Beautiful
by
David Pascal
(Note. For those culturally deprived: Saber Marionette J tales take
place in a future world very much like 19th century rural Japan. Otaru
is a slightly poverty-stricken teenage boy who lives with and is chased
by three android girls, Lime, Cherry, and Bloodberry, and also by his gay
next-door-neighbor Hanagata, who has a small baby brother called Yumeji.
That's all you need to know. Comments on this story should be addressed
to david@davidpascal.com. Saber Marionette J is owned and copyrighted by
AnimeVillage.com * Satoru Akahori * Hiroshi Negishi * Tsukasa Kotobuki *
Kadokawa Shoten * Bandai Visual * Sotsu Agency * TV Tokyo.)
One lovely Spring day Lime was lying on the roof of Otaru's house in
Japoness, with her hands behind her head, looking up. The breeze was as
soft as a mother's kiss, the sun was as warm as a wooly blanket on
Christmas Eve, the sky was as diamond blue as the sea, with white birds
glittering across it like faraway ships' sails. Lime didn't notice.
Lime was frowning. Lime and Bloodberry had been sitting eating at the
table earlier, and Otaru had walked by and asked Bloodberry if she'd mind
chopping some wood down in the yard. Lime could hear Bloodberry chopping
right now. Why Bloodberry? Why didn't Otaru ask Lime? Lime knew why.
Because Bloodberry was tall and strong and sexy and a real woman, and
Lime was short and skinny and gawky and just a girl. She wanted to cry.
Why couldn't she be more like Bloodberry? If she were more like
Bloodberry, then everything would be beautiful.
Down below, Bloodberry had chopped up a dozen logs with a casual stoke of
her hand. She tossed them up in an easy juggle and caught them on her
shoulder. Whistling, she walked back around the house to leave them in
the shed for Otaru. Passing by a window, she saw Cherry inside, humming
and cutting nori and salmon for their evening supper. What perfect quiet
movements, she thought. What an magnificent traditional kimono, what
beautiful long formal hair. Cherry looked like a butterfly in a
vegetable garden. That's what a woman should be like, thought Bloodberry
� delicate, graceful, lady-like, a homemaker. Not big and loud and
muscle-bound like me -- a woodchopper! No wonder I can't get anywhere
with Otaru, she thought. If only I could be meek and elegant like Cherry
� then everything would be beautiful�
Cherry slid the nori into the pot of boiling water and began cutting
carrots and dicing cabbage. And as she did, she slid too -- back into
her fantasy. She was an English virgin in rosy crinoline on the high
seas, about to be deflowered by the cackling black-moustached Faust von
Gelhardt, when Otaru the Pirate King swung in on a rope and kicked Faust
down the gullet of a waiting shark holding a salt-shaker and fork. Otaru
embraced her, and embraced her, and showered passionate kisses on her
lips, her ears, her throat, her shoulders, her collarbone, her clavicle,
her armpits, her �
The cabbage she was slicing bounced up high in the air and landed on her
head and then on the floor.
She picked it up, exquisitely forlorn. Why? Why was she so weak? Otaru
was a man � tough and grand and swashbuckling. In love, the weaker one
always cares more than the stronger one. And when it came to Otaru she
was weak � weak, weak! Otaru was powerful -- masterful. Why couldn't
she be like that? Why couldn't she stop dreaming and grab him! She gave
the carrrots one hundred rapid-fire chops, sniffling. If only she could
be fearless and bold like Otaru�then everything would be beautiful.
Otaru, meanwhile, was staggering down the crowded midday Japoness main
street, his bones creaking under the weight of the huge basket of fish he
was carrying on his shoulder. "Fish! Fish for sale! Ten percent off!"
He wondered if his knees would break first, or his shoulder. Probably
his back. "Twenty percent off!" When was someone going to walk up and
buy some damned fish? They were starting to stink! How could he sell
stinking fish? And if he couldn't, how was he going to pay the rent?
How was he going to pay his bills? How was he going to put rice in his
belly and clothes on his back, much less do the same for three crazy
marionettes that put away chow like starving orangutangs? " *Thirty*
percent off!" A white streak suddenly smashed into his knee.
"Yumeji!"
"Gomen ne!" said Hanagata's little tot of a brother, sitting on his
behind in a cloud of dust, looking up. He picked himself up in an
instant and dashed away straight off down the street like a robin. Otaru
watched him go. He smiled, a little sadly. How great to be a kid. No
work, no bills, no responsibilities. Just run and play all day. Ah, if
only I could be a little boy like that again, thought Otaru. Everything
would sure be beautiful. Otaru sighed... "Fish! Fish!"
Yumeji ran down the street in desperation. He had to get to the merchant
before the shop closed, to buy his brother Hanagata some more sake. Hana
had promised him a hundred yen if he could get it in five minutes. A
hundred yen! Yumeji *needed* a hundred yen! If he didn't turn that much
over to the school bully by lunch tomorrow, the bully promised he would
hang Yumeji by his pants from the tallest tree branch he could find, till
all the spiders and cockroaches and caterpillars on it crawled down into
his underwear. Yuck! Why did he have to be so little and small? Why
couldn't he be big and grown-up and rich like his brother? If only he
could be big and tall and rich like Hana, then � then everything,
everything would be beautiful!
Hanagata's blond head lay cold stone drunk amid six small black bottles
of sake that stood on the front porch table of his apartment outside
Otaru's house. His bleary beady bloodshot eyes stared grimly into space.
"Otaru�" he groaned. "Otaru-kuu-uun�!" he wailed. He belched, a
prelude to the mighty barf to come. He belched again. He tried to get
up, but the only thing that managed to move, like sandpaper, were his
eyeballs. Aaaaaggh: they landed on Lime, lying on top of Otaru's roof.
Why? Why did Otaru care about those marionettes, and not Hanagata? They
weren't even human! It's because Otaru has a *thing* for marionettes, he
thought, that's why. He blubbered aloud. If only I were a marionette
instead of a sissy, thought Hanagata, sliding off his stool and flopping
like a cod under the table, then everything would be (hic!) beautiful.
Lime was lying on the roof of Otaru's house in Japoness, with her hands
behind her head, looking up. The breeze was as soft as a mother's kiss,
the sun was as warm as a wooly blanket on Christmas Eve, the sky was as
diamond blue as the sea, with white birds glittering across it like
faraway ships' sails. Lime didn't notice. Lime was frowning. Suddenly
a bird flew right over her, very low, almost touching her face. She sat
up, startled, and watched its white wings spiraling exquisitely up into
the vast blue sky. And suddenly she noticed how very blue the sky was,
and how very warm the sun was, and how very soft the breeze was. And
that everything was beautiful.
The End