Chapter Text
The rocket was ascending into the sky at great speed, pushing through multiple layers of clouds that barely obstructed its way to space. Now that both Ikkyu and Beethoven were dead, both women could finally make their escape. Together. Their mission had been fulfilled excellently and it called for celebration. Mr Joker wouldn’t be too happy with Nancy for betraying them but surely a little explanation could appease him. Once he figured out that she was manipulated by Ikkyu, he would understand.
As the two made their way to the exit, Yomiko looked back at the blue-haired woman before grabbing her hand. “Hold onto me tight, okay?” Nancy smiled. There was an unreadable expression on her face as she squeezed Yomiko’s hand, which she took as a sign of agreement. Preparing herself to withstand the strong winds outside, Yomiko sighed and entered the code to open the rocket’s metal door. Slowly, it slid ajar, exposing the duo to the air that threatened to throw them off. Yomiko’s grip strengthened to steady herself. It was now or never. She went down first, ready to make a paper parachute with the remaining paper in her briefcase. Naturally, she expected her partner to follow suit.
But after an awkward few moments of just hanging there, Yomiko raised her head, confused. All she was met with was Nancy’s hand phased through the door, clearly latching onto it. The smile on her face turned apologetic, and Yomiko’s heart stopped. No, this can’t be happening. Not after all they’ve been through as spies, as friends, as something more than that they needed to discover. This had to be one of Nancy’s pranks, albeit a very poorly timed one.
Unfortunately, reality couldn’t be altered by the denial of a bibliomaniac. Savouring their final second together, Nancy’s fingers phased through the other woman’s. Then her palm. Then Yomiko was introduced to the experience of free falling. She reached out her arm as far as she could, still partly convinced that Nancy would have a change of heart and jump onto her. She screamed her name, pleading with her to get out of that doomed spacecraft, only for her voice to be drowned out by the air pressure, silencing her desperate cries. In slow-motion, Yomiko fell, her eyes glued on Nancy who simply stood at the doorway, unmoving. Gradually, the woman left her field of sight, replaced by the white clouds, and all hope was lost.
Unclasping her bag, Yomiko casted a parachute for one. While she wanted to use the paper to make an airplane, there wasn’t enough to build one. She descended, the thin material thankfully being reliable. However, due to her unstable emotions, she couldn’t wield her skills as gracefully, leading to the structure breaking off little by little. The trip back down was rocky, but what she cared for was not her safety. The entire journey was spent processing what she just went through. She mourned the woman that foolishly left herself behind for a reason unknown, yelled at her for leaving her alone in this cruel world. Beads of crystal tears rolled down her cheeks, each one making her cry harder and harder until she was full on sobbing. She just witnessed the person she’s grown fond of commit suicide.
It was then that Mr Joker came through her earbuds, asking her for updates on the situation. Gulping, Yomiko reported the death of their two enemies, her voice dangerously shaky. However, nobody at the organisation cared. They brushed it off, cheering loudly for their success. Yomiko heard the boisterous laughter erupting from the intercom, sounds that should’ve left her feeling satisfied with herself. Instead, it saddened her further. On one hand, she carried out this impossible task that only she could do. On the other hand, she lost a chunk of her heart—the chunk that belonged solely to Nancy.
Once she touched hard ground, Drake, her bodyguard and left hand man, came up to her, demanding something about repaying his money. Yomiko couldn’t tell nor could she care, she was too busy wiping her tears that seemed to just keep falling. Seeing this, Drake paused mid-sentence. Then, he tenderly embraced her, letting the girl cry on his shoulder despite the mucus that ran from her nose. Although rather large, he acted like a gentle father for her. Using his hands, he covered the intercom devices on their necks to prevent anyone from hearing her wails of pure agony. They stood there, surrounded by the vast ocean and the happiness of the people back at their agency.
For the next few months, Yomiko was on vacation. What was supposed to be relaxing was anything but. Cooped up in her home, with books surrounding literally every corner usually brought a smile to the agent’s face. Reading would broaden that smile—well, the thought of it did. Normally, she’d lose herself in a good novel with no care for her surroundings. And trust her, Yomiko did try her best to focus. The only problem was that whenever she read a romance, she would recall the vivid memory of Nancy and her talking about love’s complexities. Her friend mentioned how it wasn’t as easy to love someone, that in actuality love was a cruel thing. Yomiko wished she would’ve shown her how natural love came from her to Nancy. The hard part was explaining it in words, and that was about it. Though, currently, the difficulty lied in only having the memory of Nancy’s sorry maroon eyes, gazing at her as they left each other, tattooed on her eyelids.
More time passed, leading to Yomiko’s growing misery. Grief was studied to have five stages, yet she was stuck at gnawing, all-consuming depression. Every time she walked past a mirror, she’d catch a glimpse of her messy hair cascading over her back. Her mind would deceive her by hallucinating that they were done up in twin braids, tied by a delicate paper ribbon. Nancy used to do that; braid Yomiko’s hair while she was reading. She never noticed it, though, since she was too engrossed in the realm of words. Although, sometimes at night, she could feel the phantom sensation of Nancy’s fingers combing through her dark tresses, splitting them into three sections and overlapping them. Despite it being barely there and hardly noticeable, the salty droplets still came all the same.
Perhaps a part of it was owing to Yomiko’s inability to forgive the spy. Even though Yomiko rarely, if ever, held a grudge, the emptiness that filled her days because of Nancy was inexcusable. Whenever she entered a bookstore, she’d half-expect the lady to show up out of nowhere, for their hands to reach for the same book. Their eyes would meet, curious navy meeting sceptical burgundy. Yomiko would probably rush to hug the taller woman first in that scenario. Following that short bliss, she’d scold her for scaring her. Nancy would chuckle and pull her cheeks affectionately to calm her, teasing her that she was overly emotional. The fantasy replayed in Yomiko’s head over and over again, stopping only when she was lulled to sleep by it.
Nevertheless, it was a fantasy, never to happen.
After going through a year of processing her loss, Yomiko accepted that. Believe it or not, the young woman finally came to terms with the death. She made herself believe it, finding it necessary to continue her life. She couldn’t be stuck on this period of time forever, even Nancy wouldn’t want that. So she stopped weeping into her pillow, stopped letting every little thing remind her of the woman who was her better half.
Occasionally, Yomiko would crack. It was on nights where the stars in Japan would litter the night sky, sparkling in all their glory. In spite of appearing the same, they all had their own sense of individuality in an odd way. With her bed being right beside two large windows, she had the glorious honour of gazing at them when she couldn’t sleep, which was everyday. No matter how she looked at it, connecting the shinier stars would always lead to her tracing the outline of Nancy’s face. It wasn’t her fault they were spaced in such a way that drew that outcome. The twilight sky was the perfect shade of Nancy’s hair too, a dark midnight blue which complemented her chocolate eyes.
Unable to bear it any longer, Yomiko decided to put an end to this. One night, she went out to buy some origami paper. Her idea was to fold it into a paper crane. Afterwards, she’d use her abilities to help it fly to Nancy in space. This was her way of sending a message, not through some fake ouija board that didn’t work. She wondered if when her partner met her fate in the warm embrace of the galaxy, that her memory was encapsulated as those tiny suns that glittered the Milky Way. Maybe the crane she sends there might also burn and be immortalised there, right next to Nancy’s.
Yomiko folds the bird with ease, her nimble fingers pressing hard on each crease and fold. Once it passed her standards, the girl moved to sit up on her bed, turning her body to face the window behind her. Lifting the glass pane, a chilly breeze brushed past her face, sending a shiver down her spine. Resting her elbows on the windowsill, she admired the endless abyss above her. Somewhere, Nancy was watching her too, laughing at her even. Exhaling deeply, she let the paper go, letting it float to where her soulmate awaited its arrival.
She smiled this time, the corners of her lips tugging upwards. Japan was extra beautiful today, Yomiko thought. She wanted Nancy to be here, to appreciate this scenery with her. It would’ve been most breathtaking to see the stars glimmer in Nancy’s black irises.
…
Wait, black?
No, that wasn’t right. She doesn’t remember her having black eyes. She had brown ones.
No, that wasn’t right either. Was it dark orange? Dark purple? Dark green?
And that’s how breathing stops, all in the matter of a few measly seconds of realisation.