#&clean

"Mmmm, nah. You'll just hide again if I do."

celadonfragrance

     There was a demonstration, a festival really, within Celadon City. In it was a rare display of the Saffron’s Fighting Dojo, both showing off their prowess as well as honoring several past time traditions. It was around this time of year that Natsume had chosen to come home and participated.

     The battering of drums and the cries of several of her students and comrades filled the air as she observed them from the sidelines. Her part was over for now, but she enjoyed watching each and everyone of them (if only to ensure hey were all going to do the best they can). It was around this time when she’d felt a pair of eyes follow her, not like any of the others, and turned to face it. 

     Needless to say, she was a bit surprised to find that it was Celadon’s very Leader. She’d heard rumors about the woman, seen a few papers, and the men at her family’s dojo were rather enthusiastic when it came to the League, so it was hard not to recognize her, but it didn’t mean she knew her beyond that. 

     Honestly, it sounded a bit too perfect to be true.   

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one year,

    Her name still riles you up. Maybe it’s because she’s always (always, always) doing something to make you mad when she’s around that you forget, at that moment, she isn’t there any more. And your reaction is enough to bring them to laugh (in a bittersweet way, you’d reflect later), if only because they understood why it does what it does to you.

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one year,

    It’s been a while since she’d glanced at her phone and tried to actually call someone, if only due to the strange sort of difficulty of trying to think of just what that abra of hers would have renamed them. Plenty of them were ridiculous (even if some of them did make sense), but she’d paused as one name had caught her eye. She let out a slow hum, if but slightly questioning, at how this had remained unchanged.

    "And here I thought Blue would be the one nostalgic," she remarked before moving on to the next one. 

    send me “i miss you” to know what my muse will say after       1 year, 5 years, then to 10 years after your muse’s death.                        ( meme | still accepting )

one year,

     These regional meetings are far more quiet now, she noticed. There’s a heavy air that surround the table, more so emanating from the very spot that girl once sat, and she chooses to watch as the new leader (one so accurately aware that they would be compared to her) struggle with her duties. Erika tries, she notices, to help, but even she needs a break from the heavy atmosphere.

     It’s only after the new cerulean leader and her were around that she finally spoke, "it could be worse." And it seemed like enough for the kid (young and naive as to just what Kasumi had been up to all that time before) to cheer up significantly, walking out of the room with a lighter step.

     And she’d caught the strange look another leader gave her, waving it away without another thought. It wasn’t like she cared. It wasn’t like she was talking to the kid either.    

five years,

    It didn’t take all too long before they moved on and the new leader fit into their group dynamics. They got caught on Janine’s pranks, earned a few laughs. What they didn’t catch was the look Sabrina gave them and the smile she’d received in return. The psychic laughed quietly, earning strange looks from the entire group. 

     Janine would be the first to comment. Her naivety shielded her from Sabrina’s wrath, but she’d earned no real answers, even when the girl began to get frustrated.    

    "Even you weren’t this easy." 

ten years,

     It would be ten years before Cerulean’s leader would confront Sabrina: not for any business reasons (whether as gym leaders, or as a subordinate to a commander) but they wanted to know. It’s been years, and they’ve been a leader almost as long as Kasumi has. But it doesn’t take a genius to see, even now she’s comparing the two. Her criticisms ever more harsh when it came to things that she would have done so easily.

     ’What was she like,’ they’d asked, ‘I mean—I asked the others already but—’ They stumbled over their words, letting it drop, causing the psychic to roll her eyes and glance elsewhere.

     "She was gullible." Sabrina finally said. "Much like you." 

    And they stuttered, stumbled ever more until Sabrina turned back towards them.

     send me “i miss you” to know what my muse will say after      1 year, 5 years, then to 10 years after your muse’s death.                          ( meme | still accepting | music )

one year,

     Even after a year, there are days where she woke up, smelling the burnt bread and eggs. She would close her eyes then, pretend it’s her before she could hear their dear mother’s voice call.

    She’d groan then, opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling, and, in spite of herself, remark, "at least you had experience against you. That woman’s spent years learning how to cook, and she still can’t." 

five years,

     Five years had passed, and she is long done with high school, already working on her degree. She’s still bitter and apathetic towards most. The few that stay (if due to classes or sheer determination) know there are certain topics that they shouldn’t bring up.

     Just like how she preferred to be alone their birthday and took the time to buy a candle (not for a cake or something superfluous) but for her twin. A piece of candy was placed beside it.

     ” … I really hate sweets.” 

ten years,

     She’s an adult now: old enough to regret not spending her time wisely, but young enough to know there’s so much out there to learn, so much to be done. Her co-workers remind her of this, stacking plenty of work on her desk, trying to hinder her anyway they can (because after her second promotion, they know she’s got the determination and cunning make it to the top). 

     It’s a hard and lonely (she supposed) process but it was manageable.

     She’d still be at the office, long after everyone was gone, burning the midnight oil. There were projects to be completed, meetings to prepare for, but she’d always managed to find a small moment to herself. It was only during those rare moments of fragility that she’d open her wallet and stare at one of the very few pictures they had.