Solace and Sorrow in the Stars (Themed Writing Contest #39)
Nov 12, 2017 21:49:02 GMT
sgamer82 likes this
Post by Ran-dezvous on Nov 12, 2017 21:49:02 GMT
Title: Solace and Sorrow in the Stars
Author: Ran-dezvous
Fandom: Detective Conan
Characters: Miyano Shiho/Haibara Ai and Miyano Akemi, with mentions of Agasa Hiroshi, Edogawa Conan, and the Detective Boys
Word Count: 1,592
Rating: T/PG-13
Genres: Angst, Family, General
Warning: Touches a bit on Shiho's beliefs regarding religion and the afterlife, or the lack of it.
Original Publish Date: November 13, 2017 (because time zones)
Disclaimer: Aoyama Gosho owns the rights to Detective Conan, but he's cool with fans writing fanfiction, yay!
Notes: Submission for Poirot Café Themed Writing Contest #39: Brilliant. I must note, however, that the inspiration for this piece, after struggling so much to find ideas for this contest, was hugely derived from the prompts "Classifieds: Scientist/Engineer" and "Geology Rocks: Comet" on the LiveJournal Puzzle Prompts community. I didn't submit this fic over there, though, because the story had evolved into something different than the stringent interpretations of certain prompts (like putting actual comets). I hope that it's all right.
Summary: Akemi had always been one to chase after stars.
Tonight was a night for stargazing.
No, there wasn't anything particularly spectacular about the black celestial canvass that lay before her tonight. In fact, there was only a single star out, which wasn't surprising due to the abundance of artificial lights in Tokyo. Tonight was also a new moon, so there wasn't even a moon to be seen. Just a lone star that didn't even shine all that brightly. For some reason, however, it had caught her eye, as she was heading off for an early bed time.
The main event was supposed to be tomorrow night, a much-awaited meteor shower visible all over Japan's Kanto region, including Tokyo. Unsurprisingly, the professor was going to take her and the rest of the Detective Boys on yet another camping trip, specifically in the mountains of Gunma, far from the light pollution of the capital. The kids were ecstatic, of course, especially Tsuburaya-kun who had a keen interest in science. Yoshida-san and Kojima-kun, on the other hand, were busy coming up with things to wish for during the shower of comets. Even Kudou-kun wasn't averse to the prospect, and actually seemed a bit pleased.
As for the shrunken girl herself, she had to admit—to herself, at least—she, too, was delighted.
No, she was by no means an astronomer, not even an amateur one. Her knowledge of all things celestial was not that much more than that of the average person, despite having worked as a scientist herself since the age of thirteen. Heck, even that walking encyclopedia of a detective probably knew a lot more than she did. Her field of specialization was in the grounded, pragmatic, microscopic world of molecules and cells, not the dreamy, expansive universe of stars and other heavenly bodies.
But her sister had loved looking at those glowing specks of light across the night sky, those remnants of events that occurred several million years ago. Akemi wasn't the most knowledgeable person when it came to astronomy, but her love and sense of awe and wonder for the starry heavens was abundant and unrivaled. Back then, Shiho had shrugged it off as nothing more than childlike idealism and naïveté, although she had to admit that was one of the things she admired and found fascinating about her. Thinking about it now, however (or maybe she was just in a wistful sort of mood tonight), perhaps it was inevitable that she would be attracted to those brilliant stars. After all, the first kanji character in her name, ake, stood for "bright", while the common female suffix, mi, meant "beautiful" or "beauty".
Under the Organization's watch, their lives had been blanketed in darkness, but Akemi, strangely enough, had always found consolation in the same-colored night sky, sparse as the stars may be in the urban wonderland that was Tokyo. Its pollution and abundance of neon lights had never been conducive for stargazing, but that never stopped her from chasing after stars.
When Shiho moved to America to study, however, the heavens were filled with stellar light; her sister would've swooned in delight at the sight. Despite the cosmopolitan nature and finanicial resources of the Organization, Shiho had been sent to live in a midsized, conservative town, instead of the famous cities and metropolitan areas with huge immigrant populations. It was large enough to have a world-class educational system (especially in the sciences—that was of utmost importance, of course), but not so large as to be filled with too many distractions or other people like her, for that matter.
As a child, she never thought too much about the Organization's choice for her place of sojourn, but, looking back on it now, she wasn't sent to live there out of thriftiness or random whim; it was on purpose. The boss was a careful man, after all. It was, of course, much easier for her guardians to monitor her in a small town than in a big city. More importantly, however, the boss had wanted to rob her of a sense of belonging, for her to forever remain an outsider in that town of only white and black people, so that she would always concentrate on her studies. It was all to ensure any possible dreams of escaping and living in America permanently were quashed immediately.
Not that she would've ever dreamed of a life without her sister. Japan would always remain her home, even in the clutches of the Organization.
The night before she left for America, Akemi had tried to soothe her by saying, "We may be separated by an entire ocean, but we'll always be looking at the same night sky! Look up to the sky, and remember that I'm looking up there, too!" It was sweet solace to hear those words from her older sister, even though, she knew, technically speaking, the time-zone difference would be so great that even if they both looked at the sky at the same time, they'd be getting different vistas. If she were to gaze at the stars peeping out at night, it would already be the next day for her sister, soaking in the rays of the radiant sun as she went on her way to school. Or maybe she'd already be in the middle of class, by then, either dutifully busy paying attention to her teacher, or busy fighting off boredom.
Regardless, even on busy school nights, Shiho would still spare the night sky, at the very least, a momentary glance, in honor and memory of her sister. The apartment she lived in was sparsely furnished, but her room did have a window, where the stars kept her company late into the night. It was a small luxury she truly cherished, second only to the occasional calls and letters from her sister.
As far as she felt from her sister back then, it was nothing compared to the gaping distance that separated them now. She was alive, in the land of the living, while her sister was gone, for good. There was no body or ashes to mourn over, nor a supernatural or religious belief to find comfort in. She found no consolation, either, in the Buddhist precept of reincarnation, even if she believed in it. Her sister's consciousness was forever erased into nonexistence, while the cells of her body dissipated into the same atoms that constituted the same stars she so dearly loved. . . .
Back in her small and humble American town, however, a lot of her classmates were devout Christians, who believed in heaven and the afterlife. For her, the former was nothing more than a synonym for the sky, but, for them, it was a real place, somewhere way above terra firma; the physical sky up above where the stars dwelt might as well be its earthly manifestation. Some of those kids even believed that their loved ones would become stars (or, more commonly, angels) when they die, even though Christianity had no such teaching, as far as she knew.
Her family as stars (or angels)? What a fanciful thought.
Her sister would've probably be a lot more receptive of the idea, though.
Not too long into her first year of elementary school, she overheard a group of girls her age comforting one of their own, who had lost her mother. They weren't really aquaintances, but Shiho recognized the broken crow, a girl with golden hair tied into pigtails by the name of Angela. They had been briefly been classmates in the first grade, until their teacher decided to move up the child prodigy into the fourth grade.
As terrible as it was of her, at the time, Shiho found it difficult to sympathize or emphatize with her former classmate. She never knew her parents, her sister was far away, and she had no friends and ate lunch by herself everyday; she was too engrossed in her own problems to trouble herself with the concerns of others. The shrunken scientist had to sigh and shake her head at the long-forgotten memory.
She was so different back then.
She wasn't like her sister at all, full of optimism and love. She wasn't the type of person who could easily believe in the goodness of others, or of the world, for that matter. Even as Akemi grew up inside a criminal organization, she was still the embodiment of goodness and hope. She might be too idealistic at times, but it did balance off her younger sister's cynicism.
The more time passed, the more surreal these memories felt, much to Shiho's frustration. Her sister had become as ethereal as the stars she adored, just like the parents she never knew. Akemi may not have had the lifespan of those giant balls of gas, but she shone as brilliantly as them with her unwavering optimism and love, probably even more so. And just like the stars had effortlessly done for countless millenia, she had served as a guiding light, a source of strength and inspiration. Without her, Shiho would've felt much more lost during her growing-up years.
Even now, there were still times she felt lonely. With the advent of her new life, however, things became a lot more tolerable; she found friends and special connections that extended beyond her sister. Akemi would've been very happy for her, she figured.
But Akemi would always have a special place in her sister's heart, a place even loftier than the stars in the heavens above.
Shiho closed the curtains, a bittersweet smile dancing upon her lips.
Outside, the star danced with her.
I'm actually quite worried my prose may be a bit too purple, but I had a minimum word count to make, alas. I also wanted to add actual scenes—and not just be purely introspective—from the camping trip and Shiho's past, but, as the idea for the fic came to me last minute, I decided I didn't have the time to weave those in, especially since dialogue and making things actually happen are weaknesses of mine. Maybe I'll write an expanded version of this someday, but I also do wonder if adding those scenes will dilute the impact of the fic.
In any case, I'm very happy to have finally written a Shiho and Akemi story that's longer than five sentences! I've wanted to do a piece on them for a very long time, but I never had any ideas.
Let me know what you think, and constructive criticism is always appreciated.
Author: Ran-dezvous
Fandom: Detective Conan
Characters: Miyano Shiho/Haibara Ai and Miyano Akemi, with mentions of Agasa Hiroshi, Edogawa Conan, and the Detective Boys
Word Count: 1,592
Rating: T/PG-13
Genres: Angst, Family, General
Warning: Touches a bit on Shiho's beliefs regarding religion and the afterlife, or the lack of it.
Original Publish Date: November 13, 2017 (because time zones)
Disclaimer: Aoyama Gosho owns the rights to Detective Conan, but he's cool with fans writing fanfiction, yay!
Notes: Submission for Poirot Café Themed Writing Contest #39: Brilliant. I must note, however, that the inspiration for this piece, after struggling so much to find ideas for this contest, was hugely derived from the prompts "Classifieds: Scientist/Engineer" and "Geology Rocks: Comet" on the LiveJournal Puzzle Prompts community. I didn't submit this fic over there, though, because the story had evolved into something different than the stringent interpretations of certain prompts (like putting actual comets). I hope that it's all right.
Summary: Akemi had always been one to chase after stars.
Tonight was a night for stargazing.
No, there wasn't anything particularly spectacular about the black celestial canvass that lay before her tonight. In fact, there was only a single star out, which wasn't surprising due to the abundance of artificial lights in Tokyo. Tonight was also a new moon, so there wasn't even a moon to be seen. Just a lone star that didn't even shine all that brightly. For some reason, however, it had caught her eye, as she was heading off for an early bed time.
The main event was supposed to be tomorrow night, a much-awaited meteor shower visible all over Japan's Kanto region, including Tokyo. Unsurprisingly, the professor was going to take her and the rest of the Detective Boys on yet another camping trip, specifically in the mountains of Gunma, far from the light pollution of the capital. The kids were ecstatic, of course, especially Tsuburaya-kun who had a keen interest in science. Yoshida-san and Kojima-kun, on the other hand, were busy coming up with things to wish for during the shower of comets. Even Kudou-kun wasn't averse to the prospect, and actually seemed a bit pleased.
As for the shrunken girl herself, she had to admit—to herself, at least—she, too, was delighted.
No, she was by no means an astronomer, not even an amateur one. Her knowledge of all things celestial was not that much more than that of the average person, despite having worked as a scientist herself since the age of thirteen. Heck, even that walking encyclopedia of a detective probably knew a lot more than she did. Her field of specialization was in the grounded, pragmatic, microscopic world of molecules and cells, not the dreamy, expansive universe of stars and other heavenly bodies.
But her sister had loved looking at those glowing specks of light across the night sky, those remnants of events that occurred several million years ago. Akemi wasn't the most knowledgeable person when it came to astronomy, but her love and sense of awe and wonder for the starry heavens was abundant and unrivaled. Back then, Shiho had shrugged it off as nothing more than childlike idealism and naïveté, although she had to admit that was one of the things she admired and found fascinating about her. Thinking about it now, however (or maybe she was just in a wistful sort of mood tonight), perhaps it was inevitable that she would be attracted to those brilliant stars. After all, the first kanji character in her name, ake, stood for "bright", while the common female suffix, mi, meant "beautiful" or "beauty".
Under the Organization's watch, their lives had been blanketed in darkness, but Akemi, strangely enough, had always found consolation in the same-colored night sky, sparse as the stars may be in the urban wonderland that was Tokyo. Its pollution and abundance of neon lights had never been conducive for stargazing, but that never stopped her from chasing after stars.
When Shiho moved to America to study, however, the heavens were filled with stellar light; her sister would've swooned in delight at the sight. Despite the cosmopolitan nature and finanicial resources of the Organization, Shiho had been sent to live in a midsized, conservative town, instead of the famous cities and metropolitan areas with huge immigrant populations. It was large enough to have a world-class educational system (especially in the sciences—that was of utmost importance, of course), but not so large as to be filled with too many distractions or other people like her, for that matter.
As a child, she never thought too much about the Organization's choice for her place of sojourn, but, looking back on it now, she wasn't sent to live there out of thriftiness or random whim; it was on purpose. The boss was a careful man, after all. It was, of course, much easier for her guardians to monitor her in a small town than in a big city. More importantly, however, the boss had wanted to rob her of a sense of belonging, for her to forever remain an outsider in that town of only white and black people, so that she would always concentrate on her studies. It was all to ensure any possible dreams of escaping and living in America permanently were quashed immediately.
Not that she would've ever dreamed of a life without her sister. Japan would always remain her home, even in the clutches of the Organization.
The night before she left for America, Akemi had tried to soothe her by saying, "We may be separated by an entire ocean, but we'll always be looking at the same night sky! Look up to the sky, and remember that I'm looking up there, too!" It was sweet solace to hear those words from her older sister, even though, she knew, technically speaking, the time-zone difference would be so great that even if they both looked at the sky at the same time, they'd be getting different vistas. If she were to gaze at the stars peeping out at night, it would already be the next day for her sister, soaking in the rays of the radiant sun as she went on her way to school. Or maybe she'd already be in the middle of class, by then, either dutifully busy paying attention to her teacher, or busy fighting off boredom.
Regardless, even on busy school nights, Shiho would still spare the night sky, at the very least, a momentary glance, in honor and memory of her sister. The apartment she lived in was sparsely furnished, but her room did have a window, where the stars kept her company late into the night. It was a small luxury she truly cherished, second only to the occasional calls and letters from her sister.
As far as she felt from her sister back then, it was nothing compared to the gaping distance that separated them now. She was alive, in the land of the living, while her sister was gone, for good. There was no body or ashes to mourn over, nor a supernatural or religious belief to find comfort in. She found no consolation, either, in the Buddhist precept of reincarnation, even if she believed in it. Her sister's consciousness was forever erased into nonexistence, while the cells of her body dissipated into the same atoms that constituted the same stars she so dearly loved. . . .
Back in her small and humble American town, however, a lot of her classmates were devout Christians, who believed in heaven and the afterlife. For her, the former was nothing more than a synonym for the sky, but, for them, it was a real place, somewhere way above terra firma; the physical sky up above where the stars dwelt might as well be its earthly manifestation. Some of those kids even believed that their loved ones would become stars (or, more commonly, angels) when they die, even though Christianity had no such teaching, as far as she knew.
Her family as stars (or angels)? What a fanciful thought.
Her sister would've probably be a lot more receptive of the idea, though.
Not too long into her first year of elementary school, she overheard a group of girls her age comforting one of their own, who had lost her mother. They weren't really aquaintances, but Shiho recognized the broken crow, a girl with golden hair tied into pigtails by the name of Angela. They had been briefly been classmates in the first grade, until their teacher decided to move up the child prodigy into the fourth grade.
As terrible as it was of her, at the time, Shiho found it difficult to sympathize or emphatize with her former classmate. She never knew her parents, her sister was far away, and she had no friends and ate lunch by herself everyday; she was too engrossed in her own problems to trouble herself with the concerns of others. The shrunken scientist had to sigh and shake her head at the long-forgotten memory.
She was so different back then.
She wasn't like her sister at all, full of optimism and love. She wasn't the type of person who could easily believe in the goodness of others, or of the world, for that matter. Even as Akemi grew up inside a criminal organization, she was still the embodiment of goodness and hope. She might be too idealistic at times, but it did balance off her younger sister's cynicism.
The more time passed, the more surreal these memories felt, much to Shiho's frustration. Her sister had become as ethereal as the stars she adored, just like the parents she never knew. Akemi may not have had the lifespan of those giant balls of gas, but she shone as brilliantly as them with her unwavering optimism and love, probably even more so. And just like the stars had effortlessly done for countless millenia, she had served as a guiding light, a source of strength and inspiration. Without her, Shiho would've felt much more lost during her growing-up years.
Even now, there were still times she felt lonely. With the advent of her new life, however, things became a lot more tolerable; she found friends and special connections that extended beyond her sister. Akemi would've been very happy for her, she figured.
But Akemi would always have a special place in her sister's heart, a place even loftier than the stars in the heavens above.
Shiho closed the curtains, a bittersweet smile dancing upon her lips.
Outside, the star danced with her.
I'm actually quite worried my prose may be a bit too purple, but I had a minimum word count to make, alas. I also wanted to add actual scenes—and not just be purely introspective—from the camping trip and Shiho's past, but, as the idea for the fic came to me last minute, I decided I didn't have the time to weave those in, especially since dialogue and making things actually happen are weaknesses of mine. Maybe I'll write an expanded version of this someday, but I also do wonder if adding those scenes will dilute the impact of the fic.
In any case, I'm very happy to have finally written a Shiho and Akemi story that's longer than five sentences! I've wanted to do a piece on them for a very long time, but I never had any ideas.
Let me know what you think, and constructive criticism is always appreciated.