Mai-HiME Fan Fiction ❯ Mai-HiME: Found Objects ❯ Regret ( Prologue )

Mai-HiME and Mai-Otome are the property of Sunrise and Bandai. This is a work of parody and I gain no profit from it.

 

Special thanks goes out to Love-is-god and Naolin for beta-reading. ::HUGS::

 

 

Mai-HiME: Found Objects

 

Prologue:

Regret

 

Himeno Fumi enjoyed applying lessons from her former life into her new life. As a maid, she made certain her mistress's life was as uncomplicated as possible. She took care of all the domestic chores and menial tasks so that the Academy director could focus on her duties.

 

As director of Fuuka Gakuen herself, Fumi applied the same discipline to shaping young minds. A tidy, comforting and uncomplicated environment was fertile soil in which to grow the leaders of the future.

 

A heavy sigh escaped her cherry lips, its passage slightly ruffling her pastel pink hair. Stacks of reports from various agencies all but buried her desk, illuminated by her Tiffany lamp. Fumi gazed longingly at the wall-sized bank of windows across from her. The drapes were drawn to ward off the afternoon sun. How she enjoyed looking down into the courtyards upon her students merrily living their young lives, secure in their sense of immortality.

 

But the reports beckoned. Even though Himeno Fumi knew exactly what they said. Suspicious people had been seen around campus. They were always in the shadows and never actually approached a student or faculty, yet always disappeared if they themselves were approached.

 

Given the school's history, this case could be anything from reporters trying to snap a photo of a famous student (a few young idols attended Fuuka), to a precursor to invasion.

 

Another paper caught her eye. It was a proposal from a private security subsidiary of the Suzushiro Group. While it was a good proposal (at a deep discount from a respected alumna), Fumi hesitated. Fuuka's philosophy had always been to give students as much freedom as possible. Armed guards on campus felt too much like giving up.

 

"What would you do?" She asked of the gilt-framed photo upon her desk.

 

It was the only one of its kind, for this office was the only place Fumi could gaze at said photo without falling apart. A girl no older than twelve years smiled back at her. Looking so delicate with lavender hair and porcelain skin, the girl's sea-green eyes held a depth that belied her tender age. They told of secrets a thousand years in the making, of old loves found and lost and the most terrible and wonderful depths of mortals and gods.

 

Himeno Fumi's one regret in her long service to Kazahana Mashiro was her inability to touch the other's heart. Being a maid required a measure of professional detachment, as did their mission. Yet, as Fumi began to know her young charge's mind a bit better, she found that Mashiro was fighting for more than just to keep her frail body alive. She was fighting herself.

 

No matter how Fumi served her and gave her all to love Mashiro as if she were a member of her own family, there was always a limit. An almost tangible line of intimacy which she was never allowed to cross.

 

With a dull pang of regret, Fumi tapped a button on her desk which drew the curtains aside. Students, freed from classes milled about the courtyards; chatting and roughhousing, reading and playing, walking to part-time jobs or hurrying to club activities.

 

“Of course you'd say that,” Fumi said with a small smile. This school was bequeathed to her. An outlet on which to lavish all the love and attention her absent mistress couldn't accept.

 

Fumi picked up her office phone and began dialing.

 

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