Table of Contents:
Twelve: Jack Frost
Yet more Sakaki monologue.
You were like a mandragora. The only part of you that wasn't poisonous was your brain; but nobody knew that: they just thought all of you was corrupted. It snowed outside, because we were on holiday from lovely Tokiwa City. It wasn't raining no more, and there wasn't anyone outside bitching about the rain, because they were bitching about the snow, and how cold it happened to be.
Your brain was the only part of your body that was uncorrupted.
Mandragoric in every single way, but that wasn't even a word; people still applied it too you. An adjectival form of the noun, because it was describing you. Every part of your was corrupted except your fruits, and in so many ways that was true but at the same time wrong. The window was covered in snow, and we were high up in the mountains and people skid past our window.
Your fruit wasn't poisonous, your mind, but in almost every way the fruits of your labour were corrupted. Than there were the things you created, the most ingenious designs that no one would have guessed that you would have created. We created them together, but no body knew that side of the story. I didn't mind, I suppose, because it was just normal for them to think so.
Mandragora, they called you. Every time you looked in the mirror when you were naked you could see it. Your body was like the root of the plant, the mandragora, and your head was like the leaves. You had a single white flower, and your fruits were about you. You watched me in the mirror sometimes, and I watched you right back, but then the other times I never watched you, because you never watched me.
"You know?" I asked you.
"What?" you replied.
"You are the Mandragora…"
And my voice was yours, and you frowned at me in the mirror.