Chapter Nineteen

"Even as she lay dying, I did Bathilde's makeup. I did her nails. Not because I'm some kind of control freak, but because I knew she would like it. She was losing her memory faster than I expected, and I wanted to do something nice. Once I finished, she looked up at me with the most beautiful, eye-crinkling smile I will ever remember."

--Hajime Hamamura, on attending to his dying lover

Grandma Bathilde was dying. Pearl knew it the second Hajime led her into that small, wood-paneled room, the second she saw the old witch propped up on a mountain of pillows. She still wore her white-hot powder and cherry-red lipstick, but her glasses were off. Her hands were bare, aside from curved scarlet nails. Blood cascaded from her wax-smeared lips down her loose, drooping jowls, as her large, dark-brown eyes gazed up at the ceiling. She folded her hands over the blanket, and Pearl thought she was going to pray to the Goddess. Instead, Bathilde forced herself to sit a bit higher. Pearl swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Bathilde couldn't even sit up straight, so her head slumped over her shoulder.

"She's doing better now," Hajime whispered, "Probably because you're here."

"Thanks, but you helped, too. Look at all that makeup!"

"Well, I tried."

"No, I love it! She must love it!"

Hajime smiled sadly and turned to the sliding door.

"I'll leave you alone. I have a Perma-Golem and...bones to attend to."

"Please stay!" Pearl insisted, "She loves you, too."

Hajime nodded, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief.

"She gave me her goodbye. I'd like to see yours."

"Pearl," Bathilde asked, her voice soft, hoarse, child-like, "I still don't...who are you, whoever you are, I love you." She blinked. "I transferred that nice man some of my power. Now I should...give it to you." She blinked again. "He says we were lovers; I believe it. And you are most definitely family."

"Y-Yes," Pearl murmured, rubbing her grandmother's crystals and canyons of dark-blue veins, "You're my grandma."

Bathilde laughed hoarsely.

"I figured that was most likely, but I wasn't sure. Here, this is perfect." She adjusted Pearl's hands a little bit, so the long pink nails pressed over the bottoms of her own red nails. "Voila. Ma bichette, are you ready to receive your gift?"

Pearl nodded, feeling as if she would erupt. Bathilde closed her eyes softly, and her granddaughter did the same. Pearl felt a hard, gritty lump rise in her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut-- but knew this is what her grandmother wanted --even if she didn't know it herself.

Bathilde took a deep breath, filling the room with calm and warmth. Her voice lowered to a soft rasp, but its power made Pearl's spine shiver:

"Beautiful child, who I love so well,

I give your the power that holds and helps

Though the magic be gentle and plain,

It will save many a soul from eternal pain."

Pearl's eyes shot open. Soft, gold beams of light drifted from Bathilde's body, and deep under her skin. Heat sizzled in her veins and made her heart beat faster. Her breath sped up; what does she mean?

"This means," Bathilde rasped, as if she read her mind, "You will have all the power you want, applied to whatever field you need-- water, fire...but it can only help. Only bring peace." She frowned. "As I grew older, I had less tolerance for evil in this world."

Pearl shuddered. Past tense...that's never a good sign.

"I don't want you to cry too much, ma bichette," Bathilde finished, her eyes glazed and drooping, "You are thankful, you are whole, and you are precious. Your own life needs its living."

Pearl nodded, sniffling. She reached out and gripped her grandmother's hand. It was soft, yet cold-- and grew colder by the second.

"And whatever man you want," she whispered, "You'll get."

"Oh, Grandma!"

Bathilde smiled, revealing eyes that crinkled and front teeth with a familiar gap.

"I'm always with you, ma bichette."

"I love you...too."

Bathilde closed her eyes gently. Her smile smoothed into a tiny, lipless smirk as her body cooled. She began to fade; her limbs withered into pale-green dust, along with her torso, neck, and finally her head. Though he cried, Hajime grabbed a jar and gathered it together. Pearl shivered.

"Th-This is how elves die," Hajime whispered, "In a slow burn-- and we decide whether to...." He whimpered into his fist.

Pearl gazed at the green dust. It glittered in the waning pink sunlight, as if Bathilde was giving one last goodbye.

"I-I...I wish she didn't have to go. She's the best grandma a girl could ever have."

"I believe it. Her face lit up whenever she saw you." Hajime smiled as tears dripped down his plump cheeks. "You'll always be her little Pearl."

"A-And you'll always be her favorite man!"

She looked away, her eyes blurred with tears. Several fell and splashed across the wooden floor. She blinked. Loud footsteps rushed down the hallway, followed by the hollow clatter of bones. Oh, no...first Grandma dies, now I'm ambushed!"

Pearl forced herself to look up. Her heart skipped a beat; the doorway was stuffed with people. She recognized her mother's large eyes and feathered hat, her father's aquiline nose, her uncle Zell's big, beefy physique. Their faces twisted with pain, as if they knew what they'd see. When they entered the room, Amma erupted into tears.

"Ohhh, I was late! What a terrible daughter I am!"

"How can you say that?!" Zell cried, throwing up his hands, "You were always so devoted to her!"

"I...didn't see her in years," Amma whimpered, shivering into her husband's big arms, "It's been so long since I've seen...her."

"She was wonderful," added the Professor, dabbing his own eyes, "I mean, is wonderful. Did you see the ashes, honey?"

Amma looked up at the jar, piled high with pale-green dust. She nodded, then went back to crying. Pearl wanted to reach out and hug her-- she hadn't even the chance to greet Mom --but she was overwhelmed by the swiftness of commotion. She felt frozen in place, like she was trapped inside a dream. Dad wrapped his arms around Mom, whispering gently into her ear. Zell looked just as lost as Pearl as Hajime wiped his eyes.

"I-It's like she's always there," concluded Professor Solstice, "If only I told her how much I loved her."

Pearl didn't know how to react. I should have loved her, more, too! She felt like all the breath, all the life had been knocked out of her. Grandma had died with a smile; she was ready to go. She was ready to leave this life, to welcome the angels with open arms and a gap-toothed grin. Heaven was about to be a lot more magical....

She sat on the floor and began to cry. There was nothing to do now, except mourn the woman who was wild enough to believe in her.

"Let it out."

Pearl felt a warm hand brush her shoulder. She looked up. Hajime! His own eyes were a blotchy red, and he had to blow his nose. But his mouth curved into a small smile.

"I'm always here for you, too, Pearl. I may not be your grandfather, but ever since Bathilde introduced us-- I feel like I've become one." His bottom lip wobbled. "She was ready, but I'll miss her every day-- until we're lucky enough to reunite."

"I-I don't want to lose you, too!"

Pearl sobbed harder than she ever felt she could, stomach burning as she moved. When she finished, she looked up. The room was filled with the same familiar faces-- still looking solemn, yet oddly accepting the old woman's fate. A male figure walked inside, carrying a bouquet of white and yellow flowers. Two small, wrinkled figures followed behind-- one bald old man, and a tiny, gray-haired old woman.

"He says he wishes Pearl-San well," it was Mr, Takayasu, the inn-keeper, bowing, "He says he knows it's been hard and that...he's sorry."

"He's a nice young man, wishing you so well," added Mrs. Takayasu, "I pray you find peace."

"D-Domo arigato gozaimasu," said Professor Solstice, bowing low.

After the Takayasus left, the figure turned toward Pearl. He lifted his face slowly above the mound of white and yellow flowers.

Her jaw dropped.

XXX

Tatler Japan article: THE IMPERIAL FAMILY'S NEW HEIR ANNOUNCED

The other day, you might have seen a six-foot-tall woman strutting upon the Palace balcony, before stumbling and making a rather corny joke. Both the Emperor and Empress shot her an "evil eye" as the Palace servants chuckled into their hands. This is none other than Princess Sadako.

Following the unfortunate disappearance of Prince Hinata, a new heir has been announced in the Imperial family. His Highness' paternal cousin, Princess Sadako, is the only one left to inherit the Chrysanthemum Throne. She is a young lady in her late twenties, and with a degree in fashion design, she is less "trained" to rule. She has also been described as plain, clumsy, always tripping in her stiletto heels. Her laugh is high and wheezy, despite a husky speaking voice. She is not yet married, and has no prospects-- it seems. (How unfortunate!)

"I feel bad for her," remarked her former governess, "Sadako will be the laughingstock of the nation. You've seen her photos, right? Tall and wide-boned, with big hands and feet. Wide square face. Too much makeup. Bobbed hair. She looks like someone's mom. I get it's not a beauty contest, but beauty helps us women. And let me tell you, fashion design and dancing badly and collecting rare old Christmas CDs does not help Princess Sadako's case. The current Empress is all about image, image, image! When will she ever learn?"

What does the Princess herself have to say?

"I'm ready," she said, "I've always wanted to be Empress, like Jingu. Everyone tells me it's fake, but they also snort cocaine off hookers' knees. Whatever. They're just jealous that I got famous for Photoshopping Liza Minnelli's face over the past 100 popes."

So there you have it, readers-- our new Empress uses Photoshop! But I have to wonder...if she's that clumsy appearing at the balcony, will she be as clumsy ruling the nation?

I may have misjudged that girl, Hoshiko thought, scrubbing a large pan with a rough-bristled brush, Pearl? That's her name, right. She's all Tadashi tells me about...that's why he ran to help her. I guess it's like they say, you never know what someone's going through. She chuckled nervously, setting the pan down in a pool of warm water. That poor girl might be a good writer, but journalism's dangerous. You get tangled up with the wrong people. Guess she had to learn that the hard way. She's not made for it. But my son....She smiled warmly. Might be made for her.

She beamed at recent memories. Tadashi had talked constantly about Pearl— not in a strange way, but in a curious one. He sensed that she was part-elf, like him, thanks to a certain slight point in her ear. Hoshiko didn't say anything then. Her heart had pounded at the memory of her husband. At the warmth of his eyes and the rosiness in his cheeks…. Her eyes stung. I would do anything to get that man back, she thought, Well, anything within reason…that would still put food on the table….

"I'm worried about Pearl," Tadashi had said, "The Prince is so sheltered, he's been chasing every woman he sees, but she's the one he's obsessed with."

Hoshiko had sighed, folding her thick arms.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, "There's no way he's obsessed with her. After all, Princess Achara is the one he needs to secure the throne."

Tadashi's eyes glistened softly, his cheeks flushed crimson, and and his mouth twitched. He won't ever say, she thought, But he likes her— in more ways than one.

"Still, it's not healthy for him." Tadashi began chopping up a daikon radish. "All this energy, on a woman who was going to interview him. You'd think he'd even have, like, other friends or something."

"Keep your voice down."

Tadashi slammed the knife down on the counter. His mother jumped.

"Well, I've been keeping my head and voice down this whole damned time and I tell you what, it's driving me crazy! That girl's in danger. I can feel it."

"Your father was always so overprotective," Hoshiko remarked, "You must get it from him; the elves always seem to have…stronger senses of that sort of thing."

"And of the earth, usually." He grinned. "You've seen the vegetable garden."

Hoshiko nodded, then sighed at the memory of bright colors erupting across that patch of grass. Tadashi had talent— just not the desire to show it.

"Yes, but a garden is not a woman," snapped Hoshiko, "This girl stayed in the guest house, too. She must be as wild as the Prince!"

Tadashi blinked, his face hardening.

"She's different. She's the most interesting girl I've ever known. You'll see, Mom. You'll see."

What a nice young man! And here I was…telling him no! She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Look how far that got me!

"Hoshiko-San!"

Shoved back into reality, Hoshiko whirled around. A butler darted in, his face white and drawn with worry. Dark shadows piled under his eyes.

"Sit down and have some tea," she ordered, "You look like you've been up all night."

The butler shook his head.

"No time! The court has lost its Wizard!"

Hoshiko pictured the plump, kindly Hajime.

"Ehh?"

"I don't know if it's permanent or not— but his lover, the witch Bathilde has died!"

"Who's that?"

"The grandmother of Pearl, the Prince's beloved. I am sorry, but it must be said."

"I-I understand. See you soon, Yamashita."

"See you, too."

Hoshiko sniffled. First a wild Prince, now this?! Oh, Pearl! Oh, Tadashi…keep your heart on this one!