Okay, I know I haven't posted here in years, normally
posting to LJ, but hey, if the people here are
actually prepared to read something *other* than
Ranma, I'm not going to start studying equine
dentistry.
Please C&C; I LOVE comments and criticism.
Fair warning: Australian spelling is used throughout.
Please enjoy!
========
Leaves
By Raye Johnsen
raye_j@yahoo.com
******
�Mobile Suit Gundam Seed� is copyright Bandai,
Sunrise, Sony and other interested parties. All rights
remain theirs.
This is an alternate universe fanfic. Please keep that
in mind as you read.
******
[From the pages of {Tokyo Daily}, June 10th]
.... And in music news, the dance sensation Lacus
Clyne released her latest CD last night.
Ever since her debut in the underground nightclubs of
New York five years ago at the age of thirteen, Clyne
has been a figure of debate. Did Sony sponsor her
first mainstream performance simply to garner
publicity, to attract the teenage market, or because
(as they claim) they were the first to recognize
Clyne's undeniable talent?
The matter is now, of course, moot. Clyne�s
compositions veer from the uplifting to the
heartbreaking, without ever once being anything but
infectious, and the performance last night � as Clyne
gave an impromptu performance of some of her songs at
the launch - was no exception.
The intensely private composer and performer has
excelled herself once more, and one can hear the
desperate scrabble of other artists on both sides of
the Pacific as they seek to catch up to Clyne's
vision....
======================
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
June 11th
Dear Diary,
I've *got* to get out of here.
======================
[From Lacus Clyne�s personal correspondence]
June 20th
Dear Athrun, Mia, Yzak, Dearka and Shiho (I'm
addressing this to all of you because I know very well
that you're all reading this),
Well! Here I am, at a house called Freedom. I�m
leasing it through the owner�s personal assistant and
he seems very nice, but I still haven't heard a word
from the owner.
I've no idea why it's called Freedom. Not Freedom
Manor, or Castle, or House, just Freedom. Odd. It's a
rather large house. It�s been refurbished with
electricity and modern conveniences and has fifteen
rooms, including a kitchen, two bathrooms and a
library, all at least twelve to sixteen mats - I'm
rattling around here like an oddly-coloured pea! You
will have to come visit me!
As for *why* I'm out here - I know I promised that
we'd go on a holiday after the success of that last
show. I will keep that promise! But I need to get away
from the press for a while. As long as I'm in reach of
civilization, I'm going to be followed by paparazzi,
determined to smoke out the 'secrets' of Lacus Clyne,
musical prodigy, and I'm determined that it won't
happen to you.
Amazingly enough, it turns out that Freedom is owned
by another 'prodigy' - you know that computer
designer, Kira Yamato? (Yes, Athrun, the one I
fangirled about a couple of years ago when he put out
the MixStation Mark II.) It turns out that *he* owns
this house, and he bought it apparently for the same
reasons that I'm renting it.
As Freedom is a lovely house, and his company�s still
putting out some of the best computers and equipment
in the world, I was a little surprised that it was up
for rent. Still, ours is not to reason why; ours is to
try to find an isolated place where we can get a
decent night's sleep and go for a nice walk of an
evening without getting a camera lens shoved in our
face. And if another is prepared to share such a
retreat, I'm sure I'm not stupid enough to refuse it
out-of-hand.
I'll write more later. Remember, that's a raincheck,
not a rejection, on our holiday!
Yours,
Lacus
===============================
[From Lacus Clyne�s personal correspondence]
June 21st
Dear Mr. Argyle,
Thank you for your prompt reply to my earlier letter.
I have received the receipt for the bond and first
month's rent.
However, no response has been made to my request for
an appointment to speak to your employer, Mr. Yamato.
Certain matters have come up that I would like to
speak about to him.
I will be in town next Wednesday. I should appreciate
it if you would reply to this letter as soon as
possible, telling me at what hour on Wednesday my
appointment has been scheduled for.
Yours sincerely,
Lacus Clyne
===========================
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
June 22nd
Dear Diary,
I'm wondering now if this was such a good idea.
Freedom is a beautiful house, and the gardens are
fantastic - the chrysanthemums are beautiful, and
there are so many flowers here. I think I could
probably make up 'message bouquets', the way people
did a hundred years ago, just out of the garden. Kira
Yamato is obviously an excellent gardener.
I rented this house unfurnished, and I didn't bring in
very much - just a bed, my linen, my clothing, a set
of drawers, a table, chairs and some kitchenware
(including my coffeemaker, I think I�d die without
it), my keyboard and my laptop (because, of course,
inspiration *always* strikes me when I'm on holiday).
I'm absolutely certain I didn't have any composition
paper in there.
I haven't touched the half-ream I've found in the room
that I've turned into my studio. I'll write and ask
Shiho if I mentioned anything about any paper to her.
Things have been so hectic since the leadup to the
launch, I could've bought it and forgotten. I guess.
This is when I regret that I don't have a phone here.
Peace and quiet, I thought, when the agency told me it
wasn't connected and that I'd have to make
arrangements for myself if I wanted it. No phone, with
calls from cousins volunteering themselves to be my
appearance organisers. No fax, with bullying demands
from the record company. No internet, with all its
distractions.
No way out if there's a ghost here.
I swear that that idea had never crossed my mind
before I wrote it just now. I don't believe in ghosts.
I DON'T.
Another strange thing is the portrait. It hangs,
alone, on the wall beside the door of the room I've
claimed for my bedroom. It's of a young man, in early
Meiji-era court kimono. If it weren't that the
painting is obviously old (the oil paints are cracked
on the canvas, and the frame is old, too), I'd think
Mr. Yamato had had his portrait painted, in period
costume. It has an uncanny likeness to him.
But somehow, I don't feel threatened. It's almost as
if whatever lives here in Freedom - *if* anything
lives here at all - likes me. Which leads me to the
third thing.
This morning, there were flowers on my table.
I suppose they could have been blown in by the wind,
but then, wouldn't they have been all over the room?
Not just lying neatly on the table.
There was a mignonette, a daisy and a branch of
flowering almond. All of them are beautiful.
I wish I could remember why this reassures me.
===================
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
June 23rd
Dear Diary,
Shiho knows nothing about any paper. If I had
mentioned it to her, she'd remember; unlike me, Shiho
has a very organised mind � it must come with being a
science major. She always manages to keep track of
such things as reams of paper, the amount of food in
the refrigerator and exactly whose turn it is to clean
the bathroom. Sometimes I wonder how the two of us
could be such good friends.
Mia is still bubbling over with excitement over being
at the launch. She, Athrun, Shiho, Yzak and Dearka are
apparently still riding high on the celebrity. I'm
glad she enjoyed it - but Shiho doesn't seem to have
enjoyed it as much as Mia. I suppose that's just as
well � they're both really too gentle to survive in
this business for very long.
I was right when I thought inspiration would strike! I
have four compositions in various stages of completion
on my hard drive, and I've taken to composing, on the
mystery paper, in the garden under the trees. The
garden is so full of flowers, it's beautiful. I often
fall asleep there - I didn't get much sleep with the
show and all - and I'll wake up absolutely covered in
flowers. Today I was showered with white hyacinths.
I've been dreaming lately.
In my dreams, I've been meeting a young man - the man
in the painting. So far, there hasn't been much to the
dreams. For example, this afternoon, when I napped in
the garden, I dreamt I was in the garden, and I looked
up to see him. He smiled at me, and held out the posy
of white hyacinths he held. I smiled myself, and
reached up to accept them. Our fingertips touched -
- and I woke to find myself sitting in the garden,
paper in my lap, covered in white hyacinths. No
slender, violet-eyed youth anywhere, worse luck. But
then, I've never had any luck with boys while I've
been awake, so why should a tryst with a dream boy be
any different?
=================
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
June 24th
Dear Diary,
Last night, the dream boy and I took a great step
forward. During our conversation, we shared our names.
On rereading that, I feel so dumb. You�d think, the
way I feel about this, I�d have gotten further. Oh
well, who'll ever read this anyway? Just me, and I
know what I mean.
This particularly gorgeous figment of my imagination
calls himself (itself?) 'Kira'. On reflection, I don't
think I'm quite as over my teenaged admiration of Kira
Yamato as I thought I was.
My inspiration seems to be the garden. I've completed
three songs, one instrumental and I'm starting on
something that may become a ballad. All the songs have
something about the flowers blooming there. Maybe I
should ask about extending my lease past the end of
August.
===================
[From Lacus Clyne�s personal correspondence]
June 25th
Dear Mr. Argyle,
Thank you for your prompt response.
I appreciate that your employer is a busy man. I am
sorry that he is too busy to speak to me. However, I
really feel that the matters I wish to discuss with
him are important and that I must speak with him about
them.
If you would make an appointment for me to speak with
Mr. Yamato as soon as possible, I would appreciate it
greatly.
Yours sincerely,
Lacus Clyne
===================
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
June 26th
Dear Diary,
If I keep getting the runaround from that
auburn-headed rock of a secretary, and that blond fop
of a personal assistant, I'm *not* going to be
responsible for the consequences!
Finished a song.
Kira and I walked through the gardens. He gave me a
posy of Queen's Rocket, after I flirted with him a
little. I wish I had this kind of luck with boys when
I'm awake.
=================
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
July 3rd
Dear Diary,
I don't think my dream boy is such a dream anymore.
I was busily laying in the bass line on the new song
I�m working on in the studio, when I looked up and I
saw him. Kira. The boy I've been dreaming about. The
one in the portrait.
And he was transparent. I could see right - through -
him.
I think I know why Sai Argyle has been dodging me now.
He was carrying another bouquet. Dianthus and
fleur-de-lys.
I can't believe I *noticed* that.
=============
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
July 5th
Dear Diary,
So I�m sharing Freedom with a ghost.
I�m still a little freaked out about it, but I guess I
can handle it. I pretty much have to, as I�m stuck
here. And this time it�s my own fault.
Note for the future: don�t go running down the stairs
to get away from a ghost. You trip, fall, knock your
head and aforesaid ghost has to work out how to open
the freezer compartment door, get out the gel icepack
and put it on your head for half an hour before you
can hobble up to bed.
For the record, it is very very freaky to watch an
icepack float slowly in the air towards you.
But not as freaky as watching your covers get pulled
back for you by absolutely nothing, and then things
like cold towels and bouquets flying around your room
while your ghost fusses over you.
But I didn�t know brambles had such pretty flowers.
They go very well with azalea and yellow acacia.
� I know I�m missing something. But I can�t think
what.
=============
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
July 6th
Dear Diary,
Kira can cook. Why I am surprised about that I don�t
know, but, well. I guess I just didn�t think of a
ghost cooking. He makes a pretty decent scrambled
eggs, toast and chicken soup.
Last night, in my dream, we had a long, involved
conversation. On guilt, responsibility and how he�s
not touching my bathroom. Have to love his priorities.
He�s a really good kisser, too.
=============
[From Lacus Clyne�s personal correspondence]
July 10th
Dear Athrun,
Don�t worry, you have absolutely no need to come out
here to me, I�m just fine! Really! I�m getting a lot
of sleep and the air here around Freedom is so fresh
and clean, it feels really good. Honestly, sometimes I
feel like dragging my mattress out and making up my
bed in the gazebo, I spend so much time in the garden.
Which is absolutely beautiful. I�m sending you some
pressed flowers with this letter as well as photos.
But enough about me, what�s this I hear about *you*,
hmm? You sly fox, waiting until your best friend�s
away to meet and start dating someone! So what�s this
�Cagalli� like, anyway? Tell her she better treat you
right, or else *I�ll* be coming after her!
So how is everyone in the gang doing? I�ve barely
heard from Shiho or Yzak (how large is the pot on
those two, again? You know I bet on August). I didn�t
expect to hear from Mia after her parents dragged her
off on their annual summer journey to the wilds of
Hokkaido (how many Ainu swearwords do you think she�ll
bring back to us this year?) and Dearka appears to be
spending the summer conquering wherever-it-is the new
Final Fantasy game is set. (Get him to write up the
game plot and get screencaps of the characters for me,
would you? You know how I love the art those games
have now.) I feel totally out of the loop. Hit me with
the gossip, please!
Love,
Your nosy best friend, Lacus
===========
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
July 26th
Dear Diary,
I wonder if Kira Yamato will sell Freedom? My lease
expires in just over five weeks, and I don�t want to
go! I especially don�t want to leave Kira. Not after
what we�ve done together.
Is it so crazy to be in love with a ghost? Because I
think I am. I think I might always have been, and just
waiting to come here. And he says he feels the same
for me. I don�t want this to end, ever.
God, I sound just like one of my own love songs.
==========
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
August 5th
Dear Diary,
According to Ms. Allster, Sai Argyle is out of the
country at the moment, attending to some business for
Mr. Yamato. She also said that she would see that Ms.
Yamato received my query, but it would be highly
unlikely that Mr. Yamato would be willing to sell
Freedom. I�m sure I know *exactly* where my query
ended up, but at least she was polite enough not to
throw it out while I was on the phone to her.
I�m starting to wonder why Kira and I have this
connection. I never thought soulmates existed before.
I�m also starting to dream, not just of him now, but
of a life where I�m married to this man, where we live
in Freedom and are very much in love. How
out-of-context this seems for the time � we�re living
in the Meiji Era and Kira is working with the gaijin
engineers to build the first railway in Edo, but we�re
supposed to call it �Tokyo� now, and we were married
by our parents but fell in love with each other
anyway. Our parents aren�t happy that we�ve given up
our samurai rank and used the money to buy shares in
the railway, but it�s a new world and we can�t rely on
old privilege to buy our son a commission at court,
the way Kira�s parents could. And we both are not
feeling that well and coughing a bit, but it�s been a
hard winter and colds do occasionally linger into
spring. Still, it�s a good thing that young Mamoru is
staying with Kira�s parents right now, it wouldn�t be
good for him to catch this cold from both his
parents�.
And then I wake up and I almost think I still am that
woman of the nineteenth century, until my laptop beeps
or I smell my coffeemaker.
But how I wish I were, with her cheerful plans for the
future, her loving husband, her son and her
half-formed plans to give him a brother or sister as
soon as she felt well enough.
=========
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
August 15th
Dear Diary,
Conversations with Kira have confirmed my suspicions �
my dreams are memories. Our memories. But I still feel
like I am stuck in a holding pattern.
I�m in a place I have no claim to, in love with
someone who died at least a hundred years ago, and I
have no way to change either of those things.
Ghosts aren�t supposed to stay here � they need to
move on. But I don�t want to hurt Kira, and I don�t
want to hurt either.
I need to work out what to do.
========
[From the diary of Lacus Clyne]
October 25th
Dear Diary,
It's been two months since the last time I wrote. So I
must now record the end.
I'd worked out who and what Kira was. Now I had to
work out why he was there. When he'd been telling me
since the first day.
He had sworn to love me and to never leave me. I had
died; and he had never left. He kept his word. So I
had to work out how to release him. As soon as I
thought of that, I realized: I had to release him from
his oath.
Simple. Incredibly simple.
I didn't want to.
I've never been approached by boys, ever. All my life,
I've been 'odd', and 'weird'; it was a relief for my
parents when I went into music and they didn't have to
worry about me anymore. Here was a wonderful, gorgeous
guy who *didn't* think I was a weirdo, who wanted me
the way I am. Send him *away*? Do I *look* crazy?
But he wasn't happy. I *had* to let him go.
That evening, I waited till the sunset. We had
promised to each other at sunset, and he had been
bound in the dusk. It was the time.
I had stumbled across the small flower that day while
waiting for sunset. I knew that it was there for that
purpose. It was the only flower of which there was
only one in the garden. So I stood there beside it,
waiting for the end.
I felt the sun fall, as it painted the sky in cinnamon
and violet, as brightly coloured as the skirts of one
of my performance dresses. I felt Kira come up behind
me. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said, without
turning around.
His insubstantial arms slipped around my waist, a
light puff of cool wind in the heat of the sun. "I�m
looking at something far more lovely," he whispered in
my ear. Oh, he wasn't playing fair....
"Kira," I whispered, "are you happy?"
He stilled. "Why would I not be?"
"In other words, no," I confirmed sadly, turning in
the circle of his arms. In the shadowed light of the
setting sun, he looked almost solid.
"I am content," he replied quickly, looking worried.
"We can work this out, Lacus," he continued.
"No," I whispered. "Kira, I love you. I release you."
His eyes widened and shock etched itself on his
beautiful face. I can�t � won�t � forget his
expression. "What?"
"Be free, Kira," I said clearly, kneeling down and
gripping the white poppy. "Go back where you belong!"
I shouted, ripping the poppy out of the ground. He
glowed brightly for a second and then he was gone.
I don�t know why people say grownups shouldn�t cry. It
didn�t matter then. I collapsed there, started to cry,
and didn't stop until dawn. Then I stumbled inside,
fell on my bed, and began to weep.
My lease expired two weeks after I - let him go? Set
him free? What do I call it, anyway?
I finished the song I was writing for him, and I cried
as I did.
I hope he went to the right place, that the oath he
made didn't hold him away from where he was supposed
to be. I was an *idiot* to ask it of him. Still... I
didn't want to let him go. And if I hadn't seen what
my stupidity did to him, I might have done it again.
Thank goodness I got the chance to fix my mistake.
I'm still writing, and still with the flower theme. I
kept finding myself singing about lost love, but that
hasn't happened in a week and a half. I think I might
be starting to get over it all.
Wait a moment - someone's at the door.
=============
[From the journal of Kira Yamato]
October 25th
I didn't dream of her again. It's been two months.
Ever since I was small, I've dreamed of a girl. This
dream-figment called herself 'Lacus' (and, no, I have
no idea where my imagination picked up the name), and
I usually dreamed that she was playing music, or in a
garden. I dreamed that I would waken her from naps
with kisses, that we walked together with smiles on
our faces, and at night.... Well, let's just say I
never dreamed of an *anonymous* lover. I bought
Freedom because it was so much like the house that she
lived in. The gardens, especially, were almost exactly
the same. Still I could never stay there � she wasn�t
there.
But, since the end of August, I've not seen her once.
I woke up one morning feeling better than I have in
years - free and whole. But I haven't dreamt of her
since.
When I got home to Freedom, the house was surprisingly
clean and neat. Then I remembered I'd arranged to let
it while I was on my business trip, to a musician in
Tokyo. Whoever she was, she was a much better tenant
than I was an owner - Freedom was in near-perfect
condition.
Then I entered the bedroom, and found the CD.
It was lying on the bedstead I'd left behind. I picked
it up and put it in my Discman, and nearly fainted
from shock. It was the song that Lacus worked on in my
dreams. I breathed in, and there was a definite scent
about the place - rosemary and soap - that was
achingly familiar, and that I'd missed desperately. It
had been seven weeks since I'd last smelt it, in a
dream where a crying girl ripped a white poppy up,
bruising her hands with the force of her pulling, and
screamed, "Go where you belong....!!"
Why on *earth* didn't I remember that *earlier*?
It took three days to get the papers out of storage,
but when I did I had yet another shock. I'd let
Freedom to 'Lacus Clyne'. *The* Lacus Clyne!
I've been collecting this girl's CDs and clippings for
*years*, ever since they used some of the most
electrifying music I�d ever heard for a presentation
of one of our products. I wanted to know more about
the musician who created that glorious sound, and I
was intrigued by the notion that she was a girl my
age.
It's taken me three days to get my courage up enough
to go to the address listed on the lease agreement.
This evening, however, I did it. I walked up to the
apartment door (she lives in a building without more
than a token security guard! I just walked past him
and he didn't even look twice at me!) and knocked.
She opened the door (with the guardchain on) and I
knew it. It was her. My dream Lacus was standing in
front of me. Her eyes widened, and her right hand came
up to her face.
The speech I'd memorized flew entirely out of my head.
"Hi," I said. (Kira the brainiac.) "I'm Kira � Kira
Yamato. May I come in?"
************
Author's notes:
1) I am aware that the official romanisation is Meer
Campbell, not Mia Campbell. However, this is AU, and I
like the look of �Mia� better. Especially as it is not
quite so obvious a throw to �Lacus�.
2) The size of Japanese homes is described in terms of
�mats� � specifically, tatami (a type of reed) mats,
which traditionally were used as floor coverings. For
example, a six-mat room is a room that would require
six mats to cover the floor completely. Tatami mats
were/are normally woven to be about a metre long and
just under half a metre wide. Six- to eight-mat rooms
are standard for a single�s apartment in Tokyo;
twelve- to sixteen-mat rooms are found in houses in
more rural areas.
3) For those who care: After the turbulent reaction to
Admiral Perry and the Black Ships forcing Japan to
open up trade with America and the West, including the
dissolution of the Tokugawa shogunate and with it many
of the customs and privileges inherent in the
structured Japanese caste system, the aristocracy were
offered monetary compensation for the loss of their
rank and privileges. Many of the samurai used this
money to invest in the new technologies that were
being brought in by the foreign traders, and many
accepted commissions from the government to work with
and learn from the foreign scientists the government
brought in to teach. Past!Kira here did both, by
investing his compensation in the railway network and
by studying to become an engineer.
4) Also for those who care: Past!Kira and Past!Lacus
died of tuberculosis, which was very common in the
early Meiji.
5) I like the language of flowers and I used it very
extensively in this story. Every time a flower was
mentioned by name, its meaning had relevance to the
story.
Here is a glossary of the flowers used and their
meanings:
Azalea - Temperance
Brambles - Lowness, Envy, Remorse
Daisy - Innocence
Dianthus - Make haste!
Fleur-de-lys - Flame, I burn
Flowering almond - Hope
Mignonette - Your qualities surpass your charms
Queen's rocket - You are the queen of flirts, Fashion
White hyacinth - Unobtrusive beauty
White poppy - Sleep, My bane
Yellow acacia - Secret love
raye_j@yahoo.com
livejournal: http://windtear.livejournal.com
http://www.thejohnsens.com/index.html
"It 'went away'? 'I dwell in darkness without you'
and it WENT AWAY?"
-- Sorcha, 'Willow'
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