2022-01-03 - Alive and Well
| Title: Alive and Well | |
|---|---|
| Summary: Mikoto engages in the hallowed New Years tradition of writing postcards. Only one of them really fulfils the spirit of the activity. Or, perhaps... only one does not. | |
| Who: | |
| Where: Ohtori Academy | |
| OOC - IC Date: 2022-01-03 - 2015-12-31 | |
The Mai-Mikoto Dormhold has been a flurry of studious activity, in the leadup to UNIVERSITY ENTRANCE EXAMS, but Mikoto hasn't had to open any books since final exams came and went. That's why it's surprising, to see her drop down a stack of cardstock and calligraphy pens on the dining table (which, between meals, is obviously a studying surface these days).
"Postcards, postcards..!" Mikoto bubbles, cheerfully. "Like Chie said!" Well, it is fair to say that Chie Harada probably explained something of New Years' Postcards to Mikoto: the idea of sending people you're far from reassurances that you're still well. They're called nengajo, and they're as popular in Tokyo as Christmas Cards are, in the West.
Whether she got the idea...
Steven, it's New Years cards! For New Years!
I wanna be cool like Haruka!
Westar-senpai, I'm thinking of you.
Fireworks are like magic spells, Yumi!
New Years seafood, Nori!
Endo, now we get a year to be friends!
I wanna be brave like Utena!
I wanna be connected like Chie!
Aoi, fireworks are so pretty!
Georgia, it's New Years! Bang! Bang! Like drums!
Natsuki, come over more! Don't be alone!
Eri, let's have a good year together!
Cards for so many friends, delivered to mailboxes or slipped under doors. They're printed with messages of hope for the new year, of course. But the personal messages attached are displays of Mikoto's fine penmanship, and the characters all espouse the qualities of New Years -- or the qualities of her friends -- or both, all mashed together. In this way, they don't quite understand the true meaning of nengajo, but...
By the time she gets back to Ohtori and slips all those cards somewhere they'll be noticed...
... there's still one left.
Mikoto falls silent, when she comes to the last unwritten card, sitting there at the table as she works so hard to fill them all out.
She's not far away from her friends, and they know she's doing well. In this sense, her efforts miss the point of the traditional Japanese New Years' card entirely; Mikoto, who is surrounded by her loved ones, adapts the tradition by necessity. But that's not quite true -- completely -- entirely.
She did leave... one person behind.
Without plan, she begins to write. The greeting is still entirely natural; her writing remains akin to a samurai's hand, more artful and considered than many give her credit for. It is thanks to that long practice her hand does not waver overmuch -- but for a little nervous flick at the edge of an archaic character.
There is space under the generic message, just like every other card. Her ink forms a splotch on the cardstock as she rests her pen on it, unthinking; a moment too late, she realises her thinking is entirely visible, and lifts her pen in a hurry. Her first instinct is to say nothing more -- nothing but recognition of him, just like the North Pole, just like it was before. She shakes her head, with a little grunt, and recalls what Chie told her about the tradition again.
Her first words are reassurance, because even if she voices her doubts to her friends, there is still the possibility he's concerned for her. Her next line is far too indirect to be an accusation; it's the most direct offering of Tokyo's alternatives she dares to offer.
She lingers on the end of the sentence, for a moment too long, but if he was worried for her --
A question, then, modelling her own concern. If Mikoto is truly committed to showing her family a better way, she has to show everyone there are other ways to express themselves, right..? ... not just Miroku. She can show that care can be expressed without devastation.
By the corner, a deliberate statement, to someone she was to love exclusively, with no room for anyone else in her heart. These characters are swift on the card, written too quickly to be taken back. Too quick, in fact, to realise it's not the only way it can be taken.
At once Mikoto scoops it onto the top of her stack of cards, and hops upright, to bound into the world and deliver them all.
Mikoto finds herself on the roof, that last easy postcard delivered. It's not particularly UNUSUAL for her to find herself on the roof; slipping out a window and hoisting herself up to get a good look at school grounds is hardly something she has to think about.
The sun is going down on the very last day of the year, and she takes a moment to turn to it, watching the way the orange tones splash over clouds carrying a fresh wave of snow to Ohtori. Higher in the sky, those warm colours shift to magenta -- violet -- purple. Which of the two is nicer is...
Well, a good sunset has the both of them, doesn't she?
She pulls out that one final postcard, the one with no mailbox or door to match. "... I won't go looking," Mikoto says, to herself, to the weight on her back. She is freed from the search; she will not return. But does it matter if she doesn't deliver it? Her Lord Brother is watching. It's entirely possible he knows, without any need for her to hand it over.
A breeze whips her braids up into the air, and carried on that whim she releases the postcard into the sky, lets it dance up into the air above Ohtori. Mikoto shakes her head, and turns to go sneak her way back inside, before someone can go and close the window on her.
My dearest Lord Brother,
Wishing you good health in the New Year.
. I'm doing good. Up here, it doesn't have to hurt. Are you cold..?
I love you, too.
