2024-12-02 - A World Without Magic: Ginka Shimizu

Title: A World Without Magic: Ginka Shimizu
Summary: In the wake of Space-Time Criminal Jail Scaglietti stealing all magic for himself, magical girls everywhere fall into a deep sleep, dreaming of a life without magic. There is a cage that Ginka Shimizu desperately wants to escape...
Who: Ginka Shimizu, Misaki Tokita, Momoka Shimizu
Where: The Iyama Estate, somewhere in Japan
OOC - IC Date: 12/2/2024 - Friday, June 17, 2016

The sitting room was hushed, silent save for the gentle, delicate melody that wafted through the air. Gentle streams of notes twined and wove themselves through the deft hands of their players, rising and falling in sublime harmonies and crescendos.

Ginka sat in an ornate wooden chair, violin tucked under her chin, left hand deftly dancing across the strings, her right hand carefully measuring and doling out angle, tension, and tempo. Her long, wavy, honey blonde hair spilled down to midback, her brown eyes were closed as she lost herself into the music for the recital. She was wearing a long black dress, sleeveless, not quite her formal concert wear.

This was a dinner party, after all, not a concert.

Seated across from her, at a piano was a young man a year her senior, dressed in a tuxedo with a dark black tie. He had short brown hair, and he was letting his fingers dance lightly across the keys of the piano. This was soft, delicate music; neither of them could afford too heavy a hand, lest a melody clutch up, or a chord simply fall flat.

The young man, Hiroshi, gently produced the final chord of the melody, a soft, trembling chord signaling resolution cast out into the audience. Ginka joined that with a single long violin note, sounded out in wistful, aching tension as the piano chord faded and it was the only note left.

It lingered in the air, before poignantly dissipating into the ether.

The assembled guests clapped politely, and Ginka slowly opened her eyes. She always imagined a caged bird when she played this song, eternally seeking freedom, eternally hopeful and yet... denied, in the end, every time.

No, that was absurd. How else would the song end, if not for the way it was written?

"Shimizu-san," said Hiroshi, reaching a hand to her.

Ginka realized she'd been lost in her thoughts, and hastily set her bow and violin down to reach out and take Hiroshi's hand. "My apologies, that song... it simply captivates my imagination." She gracefully rose to her feet, where they took a bow together.

After they finished bowing, Hiroshi lifted her hand to place a kiss on the back of it. Ginka allowed her cheeks a light flush. "Merci, you are too kind, Iyama-san."

"I can't help it, I find /you/ captivating," murmured Hiroshi before the dinner guests started to crowd them.

Ginka made polite conversation, laughing amiably at poor jokes, expressing condolences and sympathy at all of the right moments, and made all the empty promises expected of her. Eventually she excused herself, explaining that she was seeking out her mother.

She stepped out from the crowd, and an older woman with short brown hair and a red cocktail dress instantly fell into step with her.

"Ojou-sama, your performance was splendid, as always." This was Misaki Tokita, who had been in her family's employ for as long as Ginka could remember. Her role had changed quite a bit over the years, but... she was a constant in Ginka's life, even when her mother was off on yet another business trip.

Ginka smiled a smile she did not feel, and simply said, "Of course it was." After a moment, more gently, she said, "... But it was kind of you to say."

Misaki just smiled, "Of course. Please, your mother is this way."

In another sitting room, devoid of all guests but two, Ginka found her mother, Momoka Shimizu. She'd worn her hair up in an ornate bun for this occasion, wearing a sleek black dress and long white gloves. She was seated, leg crossed, talking to an older gentleman. Ginka walked in, approaching the two, while Misaki stepped to the side of the door, remaining at a respectful distance.

"Mother, Iyama-sama," said Ginka respectfully, clasping her hands in front of her. "I hope you enjoyed the performance."

"Mmm, yes, quite so," said the older man. "I've never heard anyone who can perform quite like you and my Hiroshi. I'm sure your partnership will be quite rewarding going forward."

"Yes, of course," said Ginka amiably, smiling a perfectly polished smile.

"Speaking of partnerships," said Momoka with a gracious smile, "we were discussing a sort of... partnership between our families, if you will."

And there was that sinking feeling. She'd suspected it would come, eventually. "Ah, tres bien. I am, of course, looking forward to working together."

She noticed her mother hadn't even said what she thought of the performance. But now wasn't the time to bring that up--there was /never/ a time to bring that up.

The role of the caged bird was to sing, after all.

"If you would excuse me," Ginka said with a bow towards the Iyama elder. "I have something I must see to, but I wanted to make sure I paid my respects."

"Of course, of course. We will come find you when dinner is served."

Ginka smiled a hollow smile and turned, heading out of the sitting room and heading for... anywhere.

Anywhere but here.

---

Ginka sighed as she stared out the bay window. In the distance a storm roiled, trees bending in the wind and occasional flashes of light highlighting the nighttime landscape in sharp relief. There was a certain beauty to it, or so Ginka had always thought.

The bedroom was extravagant, of course, filled with a mixture of Japanese and Western decorations, to honor both her Japanese and French heritages, with elegant touches like a four-poster bed. It was her own private space, ensconced within the Iyama household's luxury. No one save Misaki would dare intrude upon her here... her mother would have every right to, but Ginka knew she would never bother.

Ginka sighed as she stared out the window. She was dressed in a soft pink yukata and socks, an utterly inappropriate state to receive guests, yet not so... /common/ as to be scandalous if, by chance, she were to be seen. She'd curled up into the bay window to watch the storm, her cheek pressed against the cold glass. The pitter patter of raindrops striking glass tapped gently yet rhythmically against the window. Her long honey blonde hair was pulled in front of her as she absently worked on braiding it for bed.

There was a grand dinner tonight. Ostensibly, she and her mother were the guests of honor, being received and given lodgings as they had. And given the news of the upcoming 'partnership' between the families... well, there would be time enough to make that announcement.

Misaki would know to make all of the appropriate apologies on her behalf. She would explain, as always, that she was simply 'fatigued', both from travel and performing for the others earlier. It was... a lie, but a socially acceptable and palatable one. She was 'fatigued' a lot, they would understand and express the same empty sympathies Ginka knew how to express.

Ginka sighed and closed her eyes, her hands falling to her lap and growing still. She lost track of the time until there was a soft knock at the door. "Ojou-sama?" came Misaki's soft, gentle voice.

Without opening her eyes, Ginka said, "Enter."

The door slowly opened, and Misaki slowly stepped inside. She'd changed out of her cocktail dress into a pair of slacks and a warm beige sweater. Slowly she crossed the room and gently took Ginka's hair into her hands, working to finish the braid. She didn't ask how Ginka was doing. She didn't need to. Instead, as she worked, she said, "I had someone bring up dinner. You should eat."

"Mm... Oui, I should," mumbled Ginka. She made no effort to get up at first, waiting for Misaki to finish with her hair and then rising to her feet. Together, they walked into the parlour.

It would be more appropriate to say that Ginka had been given quest quarters, not merely a room. It came with a small parlour--decorated just as lavishly as her own bedroom, of course, and it had a small dining nook as well. There was even a second bedroom, smaller but no less refined, for Misaki, so her valet could be on hand to attend to her needs.

Or to receive a requested meal, as she had tonight. The dining nook included a large bay window that still showed the nighttime storm, and it had a small dining table just large enough for 4 people, at most. A covered tray sat on top of it. Ginka sat down, watching as Misaki quickly set out two places. Vegetable broth, with rice, two small sandwiches, several macarons, and of course, a fragrant tea. Ginka waited until Misaki had finished the table placement, poured the tea, and then sat down herself.

They ate in silence. The warm tea and the hot soup filled her belly, and as the warmth filled her she started to relax, just a little. Misaki kept looking to her but didn't press any conversation, which Ginka was grateful for. Eventually, as Ginka nibbled at a macron, she said quietly, "... You're too good to me, Tokita-san."

Misaki just smiled, instead asking, "I hope everything was to your liking."

"Oui, c'est exquis." And she meant that. It was not the refined, multi-course meal that was undoubtedly being served in the dining hall, but... it was exactly what she had wanted, and that was rare enough to make it precious.

"I'm glad to hear that, Ginka-sama," said Misaki gently and warmly.

"Tch, you are much too familiar, Misaki-san." But the edge of Ginka's mouth turned slightly upwards, and she couldn't keep the warmth out of her voice as she continued. "Whatever am I going to do with you, hmm?"

"Je suis désolée, ojou-sama," said Misaki, with a mix of warmth and gravitas, smiling herself. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," said Ginka, still smiling faintly. "It would be much too difficult to find someone else who could perform your duties to your standard of excellence."

"Of course."

Ginka's smile broadened for just a moment, but then fell away as she looked out the window once more to observe the storm. "To be so free as a storm..." she murmured softly. With a heavy sigh she tore her gaze away from the storm, looking to the room, where something caught her eye. "Oh, my violin." She blinked a bit. "I did not realize..."

"I had it brought up," said Misaki quietly as she poured herself another cup of tea. "You must have been resting."

"Ah, I see," said Ginka neutrally as she slowly stood and strode over to it. She frowned as she picked up the bow. The wood was aged and stained, with dark blemishes all along its length. The lacquer had long worn off.

"Mon dieu," she gasped as she turned it over in her hands. "What has happened to my bow? This is not at all how it was just a few hours ago..."

As she turned it around in her hands, something flashed and caught her eye. On the inside surface, along the handle, was set a long, thin mirror. As she angled the bow to take a better look she could see her reflection, except the eyes that greeted her were silver. And her hair was out of its braid, and also silver, in cascading waves down her back. Ginka raised a hand to her face in disbelief, and in the reflection it wore a leather glove, and she could see the edge of the sleeve of a bolero jacket.

All at once, realization hit her. "Ah. Un rêve. I see."

She was silent for a long moment, studying her reflection.Then, abruptly, she burst into gales of laughter. "Well, well, well. I suppose that insipid Diamant is still fighting, hmm? Making some grand declaration or a flowery speech, no doubt. It would not do to let her show me up, non?"

Ginka held the bow aloft, and in a flash of white light it turned into a gleaming silver rapier, with an ornate guard covering her hand. She smirked in satisfaction as she watched the light of the room reflect off of the blade, then turned to look at Misaki one last time. "I must be taking my leave, Tokita-san." Her smirk briefly broadened into a warm smile. "But I'll be counting on you as always."

And with that, Ginka drew her arm back, letting silvery moonlight alight upon the blade from the window... and with a fierce swing she moved to slash through the remnants of the dream--

And through the bars of her gilded cage.