From Sailor Moon Flash!
| Featuring: | Dante, Kyouri, Daichi |
| IC Date: | April 2002 |
| Status: | In Progress |
| Summary: | Dante Chiesa finds the glory of God in beautiful girls; Kakureru Kyouri is devout and chaste. And Takawa Daichi won't let some slimy gaijin spirit her away for nefarious purposes. |
Dante woke early that Sunday morning, just before the sun began its ascent into the sky. He went through the motions with particular care: he shaved his face smooth as marble, brushed his hair until the sheen reflected in the mirror, and ironed his clothes until any creases that might remain could only be detected with the use of a microscope.
It was, after all, important to be presentable in the house of God, to which he paid regular visits.
His favorite church was about an hour's drive from his flat, in a more suburban area. It was small and purposefully quaint, which reminded him, a little bit, of home. A white lattice fence bordered the grounds, entwined with thick vines of ivy, the leaves of which drooped to brush against the tops of the azaleas.
In his best Armani, Dante strolled down the cobblestone path which led to the entrance, ten minutes early for Mass. He took a seat on the left side, in a pew near the middle, on the edge. He divided his attention between the hymnal in front of him and the steady stream of parishioners as they filled the nave.
Presently, a young blond girl sat beside him, and as he took her in, discreetly, he praised God.
The blond girl sat daintily at the edge of her seat, crossing her legs at the ankle, and carefully adjusted the hem of her pale blue sundress so that it fully covered the tops of her knees. She fidgeted anxiously with the rosary wrapped around her wrist, and watched the pews fill up around her. After decisively placing her hands in her lap, she turned to the foreign man seated beside her and flashed a bright smile.
"Good morning," she greeted him cheerily, and made a move to offer her hand and introduce herself, but Father Nanashi had strode up to the altar, and the girl silenced and rose to her feet with the rest of the parishioners. After their prayer, she sat again for the first scripture reading, smiling once more at her neighbor before devoting her complete attention to the priest as he began to read from the fifth chapter in Romans.
"Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ," the priest began, "By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience."
He continued on in this vein, leaping nimbly from passage to passage as he wove a sermon that was much like many of others, placing importance on a virtuous life lived before God. Part of Dante's brain was enrapt with Nanashi's words, but most of it was fixed on the girl beside him.
"Buon giorno, signorina," he whispered, and she blinked at him. "My name is Dante Chiesa."
Nanashi's voice boomed over the congregation as he neared the completion of his speech. "Turn to your neighbor, and exchange the blessings of Christ."
Dante grasped the girl's hand in his firmly and spoke in tones as rich and thick as cooling honey. "Peace be with you."
The girl could not help the blush that rose in her cheeks as she vigorously shook his hand back. "Peace be with you, Dante Chiesa-san." She stumbled slightly over the pronunciation and looked up at him thoughtfully. "You have a very interesting name," she noted, in a subtle attempt to confirm that the young man beside her was, in fact, a foreigner.
As an afterthought she added, "I am Kakureru Kyouri. Very pleased to meet you."
"It is perhaps atypical," Dante agreed. "Originally I am from Italy, which is not too close to here." He paused, and tried out her name on his lips. "Kakureru ... Kyouri. It rolls over the tongue like a finely aged wine."
He was pleased by the blush which deepened on her cheeks. Reaching into the coat of his breast pocket, he withdrew a card. With exaggerated hesitation, he looked from the card to Kyouri, and then said, "What are your feelings on art, Miss Kyouri?"
The flush on Kyouri's cheeks deepened at Dante's compliment -- at least, what she assumed to be a compliment. "Thank you."
She eyed the back of the card he held curiously, but it quickly lost her attention once he said the magic word. "Art! Oh, I love art! Of all sorts. I'm even an artist, myself! Well, sort of..." Her gaze lowered and she stared self-consciously at her paint-splattered shoes. "I paint, actually."
She looked back up at him, smiling sheepishly.
"Is that so?" Dante said. He flipped the card over, revealing his aim: the details of an upcoming gallery event were printed, in scripted black lettering, across the card's center. "Then, unless you are finding it too forward, you might like to accompany me to this event here? You see, I have no one with whom to go, and I do find that art is to be appreciated best in a group."
Kyouri squinted, trying to make out the words on the card. "An art gallery? I'd love to go!" She'd go anywhere if it meant dressing up and talking about art for a few hours, really.
She took a small notebook and pencil out of her purse and began copying down the gallery information. She stared for a moment at the address and wondered aloud, "Isn't there a train station on the next street over? We could meet there if you'd like, Chiesa-san."
Feeling only somewhat thwarted, Dante said, "Si, signora, there is a train station near to there. I would be happy to meet you there."
He would have preferred to have known where she lived, to have picked her up, and to have seen a little of her life. It was easier to gauge a woman after observing even a few details about the way she lived: the kinds of things she kept lying around, or even if she let anything lie at all. As Kyouri handed him back the card, he wondered about what the interior of her bedroom might be like. He imagined stuffed animals, carefully arranged on pastel pillows, and brightly adorned walls. Soft, pale colored carpet. A window that was always slightly ajar in summer. Her golden hair would glow beautifully in the sunset.
Dante sighed. It was best not to push. Not yet.
"Let us be saying, around five?"
"Five 'o' clock" Kyouri affirmed, jotting it down in her little notebook. She flashed a particularly beatific smile at Dante and bowed deeply. "I thank you very much for the invitation, Chiesa-san, I will be looking forward to it!"
She gathered up her things and smiled politely at her fellow parishoners as they filed out the door, and she began the long walk home.
to be continued
