Tsubaki

two days before the Tower

What does life mean for someone whose days are stagnant? That’s what Kato Tsubaki asks himself everyday, be it when he wakes up in his moldy tiny rented apartment, when he goes to his underpaid job at the convenience store near his place or when he lays back down in bed, realizing his life means nothing anymore.

Living in Tokyo was a childhood dream, he foolishly thought that leaving the countryside would change his life, and indeed, it changed it to the worst.

All he eats is ramen and plain rice everyday, he has no friends, no hobbies, all he does is wake up, eat, work, eat and sleep. When he was a teen he used to play games, hang around with his friends, help his parents at the farm and even sometimes help the elderly of his town for pocket money. Longing for his lost childhood, for the life he had before losing it all.

His parents went away when he was twenty-four, dead by the aftermath of being beaten by loan sharks, after that it was his job to pay-off their debt. It took him five years of taking every odd job he could, he lived like he was dead, losing every friendship he had, losing even the will of living.

He tried to kill himself on the day he finished paying the debt, what was even the point of continuing when he lost his twenties working his ass off? After surviving because the ceiling beam he attached the rope on collapsed he decided to give up on everything all together.

Only living for the sake of living.

Today is his day off, so he’s sitting on the floor of his apartment, the smell of the mold doesn’t even bother him anymore, the cold rice standing on the small table in front of him looks just as pathetic as him. It’s been six years since he last cut his hair, luckily for him he never managed to grow a beard even when he deeply wished for so all he has is a really long hair he has no intention of cutting.

His black monolid eyes are dull and lack any speck of light, his face is filled with expression lines and he appears older than what he actually is, his body is thin due to the lack of nutrients and he is of average height. Being thirty-three should mean a lot, he should be married, with a kid and a job to provide for his family, yet here he is, having lost any kind of hope.

Earlier that week his younger co-worker asked him what his life goal is, what his dream would be, and at his point, what is the use of wishing for anything? Should he wish for death? For peace of mind? Spirit enlightenment?

‘’A house would be nice’’, he whispers under his breath, slowly eating the ice cold rice, perhaps he should’ve left a while more to reach room temperature, but what’s the use? Even if he should care more about his rice, just like his mother taught him to, food isn’t a pleasure for him anymore, he only eats to not die of hunger. ‘’Maybe some human warmth as well’’, he lays his head on the table, feeling defeated. 

Why wish for something he hasn’t had since his parents? 

‘’Shouldn’t I have magical powers by now?’’ He snorts, tears slowly falling from his eyes, he stays like that, not moving for minutes before crawling from the table to his bed. Closing his eyes to sleep, since that’s all he can do when he’s not working or eating.

Alala

one hour before the Tower

The sound of chatter, the smell of expensive perfume and money, that's just another day for Alala Boucher. Classical music fills the room where a select few are chatting amongst themselves, the richest of Paris are there, mingling and exchanging pleasantries as they judge each other with subtle remarks.

Most younglings hate such old-fashioned environments, but Alala came to enjoy it, even with the veiled offenses. The nineteen year-old woman is standing in the center of the room, her dark onyx skin is smooth, her light blue eyes pop out in contrast, and her silky wavy light brown hair is up in an elegant bun. Her clothes denounce her social status, not only due to the brand name attached to it, but the extensive material used in the simple red long dress with her back exposed beautifully.

A gorgeous woman that catches the eyes of those in that room, not solely due to her beauty, but for being the heiress of her family.

The Boucher family is one of the richest families in France, with an extensive history in art, owning galleries all over the country and also being known for sponsoring thousands of remarkable artists since the foundation of their company.

Even though they usually chose male heirs, it was impossible for Alala to not be chosen as the heir in place of her youngest brother. 

Her tenacity, smarts and business eye wasn't the only things behind her parents choice, neither her charisma or leadership, but her geniality when it comes to art.

The youngest artist to have an exhibition of her work sold out in mere minutes, gathering people all over the world just to buy one of her pieces. Half of the money gathered by her family in the last four years was from her work, so it was only natural that she became the heir, and no one ever dared to question it.

That was it, until the scandal broke out.

Not that her sexuality prevented people from still buying her pieces, or her place as an heir was in jeopardy. However it did make others see her as less responsible and even brought others to question if she was another crazy genius artist.

A hand touches her bare back, getting her attention away from the thoughts of the past. Not that she has much of a past to look back to.

“A penny for your thoughts?” The woman touching her says in English. She was different from Alala, her style was more modern than elegant, with social pants and a white vest, showcasing her lean muscular arms, her white pale skin and auburn hair also was a contrast near the more elegant woman. Her touch is warm and slowly she embraces Alala naturally, some people around them steal a glance at the two women, but none dares take a second look. Not when this party is hosted by the Bouchers.

“My thoughts are worth more than a penny, Eliza”, Alala answers with a serious expression, any move she does, a smile, a comment, everything is closely observed by the vultures surrounding them. It's fine if you're gay, not if you don't behave properly like a lady, Alala thinks, taking a sip of her red wine.

“Loosen up, Al, you're not a kid anymore, you can bear to be a little more happy”, Eliza says with a mischievous smile, her body close to Alala. “This is a party to celebrate your wins, you're the star”, her words don't make Alala feel better, such comments are common by Eliza, after all, she isn't the heir of her family's business.

“Being a woman, I need to work twice as hard, I can't take a second to let them eat me alive”, Alala says, this time in French, her girlfriend looks at her confused. “You should learn French, Eliza”, she comments with a short soft smile, walking towards a more secluded area of the room where her little brother is standing playing with his phone. “Alessio, stop playing before father sees you”, she comments with a disapproving expression, the twelve-year old boy simply shrugs and shoves his phone away in his blazer.

“How about we ditch then?” Eliza asks, hugging the woman from behind, making Alala sigh.

“The only fun she has is with her paintings, Eliza”, Alessio comments with a scoff as he crosses his arms, Alala pushes the boy's arms down.

“Stop acting like a brat”, she says, trying to keep her expression in control.

“Alala, you deserve rest sometimes”, Eliza insists, Alala steps away from her embrace.

“I rest more than enough when I'm painting”, Alala answers coldly.

Truth be told, she's starting to get tired of Eliza’s carefree personality. The woman was born into a conglomerate of generations from the United States of America, and due to her parents pushing the pressure onto her older brother, she never had to be as perfect as Alala. So of course she'll never understand.

They were a good couple, powerful and rich enough to be accepted in their circles. Alala thought that Eliza would understand the pressure she had on her back, but apparently she was just like the other rich kids her age.

Caring only about having fun and wasting money.

“Just give up Eliza”, Alessio says, grabbing his phone again to play.

“I'm confiscating this”, Alala says, grabbing the phone from the boy's hand. “Go talk with the other children”, she nods towards the group of rich kids at the other side of the party.

“They’re a bunch of sons of a bitches”, he says, rolling his eyes, making the woman sigh.

“Yet you still need to establish connections, that's how life is”, she pats him on the back.

“Fine, can I have my phone back?” He extends his hands, but Alala shakes her head.

“No”.

“You're annoying”, he mumbles before leaving to talk with the rich kids. The moment he joins the group she can see in their eyes the reason why Alessio didn't want to join them.

The disgust yet carefulness. She can already guess what their parents say behind their backs.

“You don't need to be so suck-up all the time, c’mon Alala, where's the woman I fell for”, Eliza tries grabbing her waist again but she pushes the woman away.

“Give me a break!” She says with a firm tone, but after she sighs. “Eliza, I was always like this, if you can't deal with the life I lead, then we should break-up”.

“What? Why?” The woman says in broken French pronunciation. “I'm sorry if I was being annoying, I just care for you”, she continued in English.

“Eliza, let's talk about this another time, I need to greet the guests arriving” Alala says, walking away, this time Eliza doesn't follow her.

I should avoid hurting her feelings when we break up, I don't want to deal with any more annoying rumors. With that last thought, the woman stops walking, and another second later her vision becomes dark and her consciousness fades.