ice queen • oneshots

⤷ one

And so, Mizuki Sayeko remained as she always had. Cold, merciless, and kind. She helped her crows fly, helped them reach nationals, helped them move beyond, but she did it all with analytical, frozen over eyes. Not once did her lips curve into a soft smile, not once did her eyes glow like the heavens above. She remained as she did. Guarded, tough, and scared.

Yet still, there was this terrible desire to be loved growing within her, this horror at being left behind. Mizuki had come to terms with these ribbons of loneliness that would forever wrap around her heart, run through her veins, haunt her in her thoughts.

This monachopis feeling had always remained with her, an unstitched wound bleeding silently, painfully, torturously. It drained her of energy, of the vital liquid for life. Her heart pumped more vigorously, trying to make amends for the wounds it caused. But the more it pumped, the more that flowed out.

Time flew by. Her high school life and her university life were the same. Admired from afar, a deity never dared to be tainted by mortalities dirty hands. Mizuki didn't mind. She was lonely. She had always been lonely.

"Why do you do this to yourself," Kiyoko had once asked, a best friend no longer kept close to her heart, instead placed outside her towering walls. "You're destroying yourself."

"I'm destroying myself so other people can't."

"That's the worst type of control."

"It is," Mizuki acknowledged. "But it's the only form of control I know."

When an individual was left alone and lonely, the body gladly lingered in the wind or the rain, or splashed into the cold river, or pushed through ice-crusted snow.

Anything that touched.

But did not destroy.

Books helped, too. Mizuki jumped into each new world, sinking into the papers of white, inked with black words that made her feel whole. Was it an escape? A way to bypass the lingering coldness around her soul? Yes, it was. We know that. She knows that, too. Why else read a story?

She —we— wanted to ignore her problems, forget about the world that hurt her, that brought her to her knees by a force that could only be described as societal pressures. It was a strange, unearthly feeling. When the books came to an end, pages flipped over to reveal a blank one, Mizuki was startled to find she was awake; she was alive; she had survived.

But was she living?

Not a chance.

"Where shall I put the contract?" Her assistant asked, holding a stack of papers in her arms, hair pulled into a messy bun, glasses laying on her crooked nose, attire crinkled and pulled throughout another schedule-packed day.

"On my desk is fine," Mizuki answered. "I'll see to it in the morning."

"Alright. Have a good night!"

With no less than a nod, Mizuki packed her stuff and bid goodbye to her staff. She took over Akira's business, reigning as the CEO and running it with an iron fist.

The sun had fallen; the moon rose from its slumber. She shone beautifully, a reflection of the lavender-haired beauty walking along the streets of Tokyo. People bustled past her, acknowledging her not, all consumed by their busy lives. Was she famous? Yes. Her designs were sought out all over the world. But did she care for the fame? For the influence that came with being a celebrity? No. She did not.

Mizuki only cared about herself and her family, and even then, her heart would not allow it to love, too scared to do such a thing for fear of being deserted.

She was feared yet adored. Nobody came close to her — nobody tried to. She was a daunting figure, one that radiated lethal intelligence. With only a handful of trusty advisors, Mizuki went about her life, living in a constant state of grey.

Everything is so dull.

She tilted her head to the sky, one hand in her pocket and the other gripping her umbrella, holding it above her head. The cloud failed to blanket the vast firmament; instead, it was sporadic, chaotic in where it chose to be thick or sparse. In the gaps, the sky had darkened; the clouds were no longer white or paler grey; rather, they were blackened shadows shifting with the wind. There were times they moved just enough to reveal the full moon, but for the most part, the night would be without the benefit of her silvery light.

I wonder what life would have been like, she thought, flashes of four familiar faces appearing in her mind — constantly, continually. Would it have been like this? The pained eyes followed shortly after, and Mizuki sighed heavily. The velvet sky stretching above her was a sickly tar filling her lungs with every inhale, and the clouds of cotton were filled with poison that would sting her eyes until she choked on the pain of holding back her tears.

Nothing could prepare her for what was about to come, and she knew that. So there she walked, breathing in the toxic empyrean and letting the raindrops of venom intertwine with her years of denied heartbreak.

"Mizuki," she heard someone breathe.

She turned to the side, eyes widening when they locked with gunmetal blue ones. Those eyes...

Although matured, narrowed, bereft of pain, and covered by glasses, she would never forget them. Mizuki could never forget them. Suddenly, the grey of the world washed over with colour and the masks covering people's faces fell. The streets buzzed with life, lit up by streams of bulbed coloured lights, joyous giggles of families passing by echoing throughout the lightening air. The trees stationed along the side bedizened its brown branches with various shades of green, leaves buzzing with the energy of life.

Time seemed to stop, as if reaching down to tie its shoes, giving the soulmates a chance to gaze at each other in wonder—longing.

"Keiji." Her eyes moved to the side, her other soulmates coming into view. They've changed, she noted, taking in their appearances: their taller structures, their toned bodies, their longer hair, their aged eyes. "Hello," she greeted, as soft and as melancholy as the world that paused to watch. "It's been a long time."

"It has," agreed Tetsurou.

They hesitated.

"Shall we get a cup of coffee?" Kenma suggested, unsure.

Mizuki could see the uncertainty in their eyes. They have always been so caring, her mind supplied. They have always loved you, it continued. For you, and solely you.

Her face softened.

"I'd love that."

They smiled. She smiled.

Mizuki crossed the street, her frozen fortress toppling down as her fingers slid into Koutarou's outstretched hand. Aren't they unbearably beautiful? Hands?

His held onto hers, and hers held onto his. 

After years spent drowning, eternally, eternally, they taught her how to breathe. And Mizuki could never be unloved, for she was too well tangled up in their souls, and them, in hers.

You see, the universe pairs people together. No matter what happens, no matter what decisions they make, no matter what detours they take, soulmates will always end up together.

Each day, the universe learns from its mistakes. Each time, their soulmate pairing grows stronger, bonds slotting into people who they know would be right for each other.

So yes, the universe made mistakes. But this soulmate penta was not a mistake.