noir's rebirth
By Illusion
(This three-part story takes place a few days after the series ending.)
Part 1
Noir…
A name of destiny designated from
the word that means death
Two maidens who reign over death
The Black hands over the green
fields
Please protect the peace
Smoke swirled
gently out of two cups of hot tea, as a young girl picked them up gently and
left for the main room, where she placed one cup gently on a pool table in front
of a thoughtful friend. “Oh, thank you,” her friend said smiling. She picked
up the cup and began sipping the hot tea slowly. “Mireille,” the girl said
softly.
Mireille stopped
drinking and turned to look. “What is it?”
“What were you
thinking about just now?”
Mireille set
down the cup of tea and closed her eyes. “I was…it was…nothing.”
Kirika sat down
across from Mireille and looked at her friend. “Mireille.”
Mireille opened
her eyes and turned towards Kirika. Then she looked down. “I was thinking
about Noir…and the Soldats.” She raised her eyes to Kirika again, who
shifted in her seat. Mireille continued. “I was wondering if they would come
for us. We know too much and--”
“But we’re
not Noir anymore!” Kirika cried.
Startled at her
outburst, Mireille took a long look at Kirika before sighing. “I know. But
that doesn’t matter to them.”
Kirika looked at
her tea and gripped the cup tightly between her hands. “What do you want to do
about it?”
Mireille looked
at her own cup of tea, which was going cold. “I don’t know.” Then she
stood up. “How about we go shopping?”
“Eh?” Kirika
looked up at Mireille who was now smiling again. Then she nodded.
Kirika held onto
the brown grocery bag and Mireille looked into a handbag’s shop window.
Nothing meeting her taste, Mireille continued walking down the street and Kirika
quickly followed. As she was rounding a corner, she walked straight into someone
who was running, sending him sprawling onto the pathway and Mireille tumbling
back onto Kirika and the groceries. “Owwwww,” the running man groaned as he
tried to get up. Mireille quickly stood up, while Kirika began gathering the
fallen groceries. “What are you trying to do?” Mireille demanded. “Kill
us?”
“I’m truly
sorry,” the man said as he clutched his head.
Mireille’s
tone softened. “You’re…bleeding.”
The man touched
his head. “So I am,” he said lightly. “Are you and your friend okay?”
By this time
Kirika has finished picking up the groceries and was now standing silently
behind Mireille. Mireille didn’t take her eyes off the man. “We’re fine.
Now do you mind telling us why you were in such a hurry?”
“Oh, I’m
really very sorry about that. How about I buy you two ladies tea and we can talk
over that?” He gave Mireille a big, warm smile and his blue eyes looked deep
into hers. Mireille was not convinced. “Sorry. But I don’t take offers from
strangers. Especially ones that just ran me over. How about you just tell us
what you want to tell us right here?”
The man’s eyes
twinkled slightly and he gave a small laugh. “If you insist, my lady.” He
cleared his throat. “My name is Jacques Beaumont, and I am honored to meet
your acquaintance. What is your name may I ask?”
“That’s none
of your business. What I want to know is why you were in such a hurry.”
“Oh, a woman
who knows what she wants. I like that.”
Mireille’s
eyes narrowed and she held on tightly to her handbag.
Jacques sighed
and continued. “I was in a hurry because I was going to miss my bus.”
“Don’t make
me laugh,” Mireille said.
“Why not? You
need to do it more.”
With an
exasperated sigh, she pushed passed Jacques and began walking off. Kirika
quickly followed. “I’ll see you around then!” Jacques called, waving.
Mireille ignored
him and continued walking. “Creep.”
“Mireille.”
Mireille turned to Kirika.
“There’s
something about him…I felt it.” Kirika said softly.
Mireille turned
her gaze forward again. “I know.”
“I’m going
out for a little while,” Mireille told Kirika later that night.
Kirika, who was
lying on the bed, looked up. “Where?”
“Just around
town. You don’t have to come.” With that, Mireille zipped up her boots,
grabbed her handbag and left. Soon after, Mireille arrived in town and went into
a café where she sat and ordered a cup of tea. As she then began slowly sipping
at it, someone slipped into the seat across from her. “Nice night isn’t
it?” he asked. Mireille looked up and saw Jacques smiling at her. “What do
you want?” Mireille asked setting down her cup. “I want to know your name.
Please.”
“Why?”
Jacques blushed.
“Because…I love you.”
Mireille jumped
back, startled. “But, we don’t even know each other!”
“That’s not
true. I’ve known you almost my whole life…Mireille.”
Mireille gasped.
“So you already know my name! Then why…?”
“I had to make
sure.”
Mireille reached
slowly inside her handbag until she felt her gun’s cold metal between her
fingers. Jacques shot a look at her hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt
you.”
“Who are
you?” Mireille asked slowly.
Jacques closed
his eyes. “I shouldn’t have expected you to remember me. We’d only seen
each other once, but from that moment I knew you were special.”
“Who are
you?” Mireille asked again, her grip tightening on her gun.
“I am Jacques
Beaumont. Your brother’s best friend.”
Mireille’s
eyes widened, and she felt the world dissolve into the background. “My
brother’s…best friend?”
Jacques opened
his eyes and nodded. “And…I understand your pain, Mireille.”
“My…pain?”
“Yes. I came
over the day they killed your family. I saw it all from the bushes. And when I
returned home…the same thing had happened to mine! My mother and father slaughtered
in their very house!”
Mireille took a hard look at Jacques, who was looking extremely solemn. He looked up
at her, tears in his eyes. “Please, Mireille, help me. They’re after me.
Please, I can’t run anymore.”
“Who is after
you?” Mireille asked, knowing full well who it was.
Jacques looked
for a long time at Mireille before uttering the one word that sent chills down
her back. “Soldats.”
Mireille’s
heart grew heavy. “Why do you think I can do anything?”
“Because you
are skilled. You and your partner must be able to do something.”
Mireille’s
eyes narrowed. “Who told you--”
“Your Uncle
Claude” Jacques said cutting in. Mireille’s eyes widened.
“You knew him
too?!” she asked surprised. Jacques nodded.
Mireille stood
to leave. “In any case, my partner and I are not in the profession anymore,
so--”
“Please! I
have no one else I can turn to. I beg of you.”
Mireille closed
her eyes and paused. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said quietly.
When Mireille
returned home, her house was engulfed in the darkness that had once claimed her
heart. She cautiously reached for the doorknob, but it swung open before her
hand. “Kirika?” she called. There was no reply. Mireille reached inside her
handbag and pulled out her gun. Then she stepped slowly into the darkness and
ran her hand across the wall until she found the light switch. As soon as her
house was bathed in light, Mireille saw the disaster that lay before her eyes.
Her house was trashed, similar to the way it had been before when the Knights of
Paris had attacked. Papers were strewn around the floor, her pool table was
upturned, and bullet holes littered the furniture and walls. Mireille gripped
her gun tighter and made her way slowly around the main room. A small noise
sounded behind her and she spun around, directing her gun at the figure that
stood before her. There, Kirika stood, looking down onto the ground, her gun
hanging limply in her hands. “Kirika!” Mireille said, lowering her gun.
“What happened?”
“They made me
do it, Mireille,” Kirika said softly. “They wouldn’t stop firing. I had to
protect myself…” She looked at her gun with remorse.
Mireille’s
eyes narrowed. “Was it…”
“Yes. The
Soldats.”
Mireille felt a
surge of anger rip through her body. “They hurt everybody they come into
contact with. I can’t stand it anymore…I won’t stand for it anymore…”
Kirika looked
up. “What do you intend to do?”
Mireille looked
right at Kirika. “Reestablish Noir once more…and finish the Soldats off.”
“But Mireille,
the Soldats are everywhere. We can’t possibly kill every single one of
them.”
“No, you’re
right. That’s why we target their leaders. The Soldats are like sheep. Once
their master is gone, they will be lost.” Mireille’s grip on her gun
tightened.
“Do you think
it will work?” Kirika asked softly.
“I’m willing
to try.” Mireille said, and after a long silence, Kirika nodded.
The fire
crackled loudly in the fireplace, as suited men sat in plush chairs, holding
glasses of red wine. Suddenly the large oak door opened and a man stepped in,
his face hidden by the shadows. The suited men looked up. “Did you do as we
suggested?” one of them asked sternly. “Yes sir, I did exactly as the
Soldats wanted.”
“Very good.
You are momentarily dismissed. We will call upon you again soon.”
The young man
bowed slightly before leaving. “As you wish sir.” The door closed behind him
and the Soldats leaders continued with their conversation.
“GraiPaul, I
must commend you,” one of the dark-haired men said.
“Why is
that?” GraiPaul asked, sipping his wine.
“I would never
have thought of such a master plan. Using Jacques to push the Corsican girl over
the edge may just lead Noir to us. Truly the work of a Soldats mastermind.”