Wanita Itu Dan Hidupnya

- by Desyc -



Juni, 2006

Secangkir kopi panas mengepul menemani soreku disana. Aku terpekur ditempatku duduk, di sebuah sofa usang berwarna kecoklatan, yang juga telah memudar warnanya. Tidak ada kehangatan. Tidak pula cuaca yang bersahabat atau senja yang indah menjelang petang. Bahkan hujan rintik-rintik kokoh menghantam bumi sedari siang. Dan langit kelabu itu...masih terlihat begitu muramnya. Setidaknya itu menjadi panorama khusus bagi dirinya. Wanita itu…

Hampir dua jam ia duduk di ujung ruangan, menatap ke luar jendela dengan pandangan gelap dan sendu… Entah meresapi cuaca yang terasa lembab, merenungi rintikan hujan dan aktivitas sedikit orang yang lalu lalang di luar, atau juga menatap kosong langit yang semuram wajahnya. Yang jelas aku menemaninya disana dengan durasi waktu yang hampir sama. Hanya saja… aku menatapnya dari jauh... aku menatapnya dalam diamku.

Wanita itu benar-benar istimewa. Ia seperti patung ukiran atau juga lukisan mahakarya. Tubuhnya tidak terlampau tinggi namun dengan bentuk elegan yang sesuai. Kulitnya putih terang dan indah hingga terlihat seolah transparan. Rambutnya yang ombak dan berwarna kecoklatan berkilau menjuntai melewati punggungnya… Dan wajahnya, terlihat bagaikan malaikat surgawi, meski sorot matanya memancarkan kepahitan mendalam, yang entah karena apa... Yang jelas, bagiku, cantik dan elegan hanya merupakan kata-kata klise untuk menggambarkannya. Ia indah… Wanita itu sempurna.

Kini kaca yang dipandang wanita itu sudah sangat berembun. Dan lagi-lagi ia mengusapnya lembut dengan jentik jari telunjuknya. Mengukir goresan-goresan aneh dan tidak terfokus disana. Aku berharap membaca tulisan-tulisan berarti, tetapi aku malah beralih menatap jari manisnya yang dilingkari cincin berlian manis dan anggun. Wanita itu sudah menikah, pikirku mendadak, atau setidaknya dugaan kesekianku tentang dirinya. Dengan usia yang terlihat sekitar 30 tahunan, wanita itu memang semestinya sudah menikah. Toh gerak-geriknya juga terlihat keibuan dan dewasa, sekalipun penampilannya menunjukkan sisi modernisasi.

Seakan teringat sesuatu, mendadak wanita itu berpaling ke arah pergelangan tangan kirinya, menatap arloji mungil mewah di sana dengan kegusaran yang angun. Dan dengan gerakan perlahan ia beralih menatap jalanan di luar, seolah menanti sebuah sosok muncul dari ujung jalanan yang becek. Yang menarik, sorot mata kelamnya malah kemudian terlihat lega ketika ia tidak menemui sosok familiar siapapun disana. Ia seolah menghela nafas dan dalam waktu singkat kembali terlihat menekuni jendela berembunnya.

Aku meraih cangkirku dan menyeruput kopi pahitku yang sudah terasa tidak lagi panas akibat cuaca yang sangat dingin di sana. Wanita itu terlihat menarik dengan wajah letihnya... Gerakannya yang cenderung perlahan menunjukkan bahwa ia nyaris tidak berminat terhadap apapun saat itu. Mungkin juga tidak berminat pada hidupnya. entahlah... Namun aku tak lepas mengamatinya, bagai terhisap magnet sendu yang terpancar dari dirinya.

Kembali aku tenggelam dalam dugaan-dugaan tentang dirinya. Ia menunggu seseorang tapi berharap orang itu tidak datang? Aku tersenyum dengan ide yang tiba-tiba terlintas dalam benakku, mungkinkah ia ingin menunda sesuatu dari rencana pertemuannya saat ini? Rasa penasaran segera menggelitik otak kecilku. Seakan merasa diriku Hercule Poirot atau Sherlock Holmes, aku mencoba melakukan penyelidikan psikologis melalui tindak-tanduk wanita itu. Akupun berasumsi, ia mungkin akan menemui kerabat dekatnya yang kini sedang terlibat hubungan tidak nyaman dengan dirinya, atau seseorang yang membuatnya tenggelam dalam perasaan bersalah.

Affairkah?

Aku semakin menikmati berbagai pertanyaan yang kujawab sendiri. Dan aku mulai merasa terobsesi untuk lebih mengetahui lebih banyak tentang wanita itu.



……bersambung……

Silent Fortress

- by Alba -

Alone, he watched. In the dark as he was, he could do little else. Through the centuries he listened as the world went on without him. Empires rose and fell like the daily journey of Ra across Egypt's sky. The world he'd known died and a new one rose in it's place, different and terrible all at once. People came and went, nearing his resting place but never finding it.

And so he remained alone.

The walls he'd begun building for himself the day he was sealed into the Sennen Ring were built higher and higher with each passing millennium.

Then, five thousand years after being sealed into the Sennen Ring, he was free, and his walls were impenetrable. For the first little while after he'd... introduced... himself to his personal twerp-his hikari-he'd heard soft knocking at the walls, as his twerp tried to gain entry into the dark mind of his yami. Receiving no response, the knocking stopped and he was left alone again. His silent fortress was built to last.

One day, a few years after the knocks first stopped, they started again.

At first, he ignored them. But as the days passed, the knocking became more insistent and he was finally forced to acknowledge his other's presence by lowering his mental walls a bit.

//WHAT?//

Faint surprise at actually having received an answer before his other got his thoughts under control. /I want you to talk to me. Please?/

//Why?//

/I'm lonely./

//Go see the Pharaoh and his personal twerp. I'm sure they'll talk to you.//

/They don't trust me. They're never sure... well, they're never sure if it's me or you they're talking to./

The spirit laughed inwardly. //Baka Pharaoh if he can't tell the differences between us! You're nothing like me!//

/I know that, and you know that, but they can't see past our physical similarities. They look at me and see you./

//And you expect me to care?//

His other sighed. /I don't expect anything from you anymore. I just needed to hear a voice other than my own./

//Isn't there anyone else you can talk to other than the Ra-be-damned Pharaoh?//

/Anzu is too close to Yugi. Same with Honda. Jou likes me, but because Yugi, or rather YAMI, doesn't trust me, he keeps his distance. Malik's crazy-/

The spirit snorted. //He's probably the most sane one of all of you!//

/-Malik's crazy-/ his other repeated, /Otogi's too busy with his fangirls and Seto Kaiba is too wrapped up in himself. Who does that leave to talk to?/

//Make new friends then.//

Bitterness crept through the link. /Easier said than done when you don't exactly let me…/ his other's voice trailed off, realizing that he'd gone one step too far. /Yami, I'm sorry./

//So it's my fault you don't have friends?// He let a note of anger creep into his voice and felt his other tremble at the mere sound of it. He had the boy trained well.

/Not exactly. Yami, this is hard to explain.../

The spirit was silent for a moment before sighing and speaking again. //I have a name, yadonushi. When you call me Yami, I expect to see the Pharaoh behind me. And you know how I feel about him.//

Feeling of gentle laughter, almost ticklish when it touched his mind. /Well, what do you want to be called then?/

//Nakhti. That was my name before I was sealed into the Ring.//

His other allowed his pleasure to bleed down through their mental link. /Thank you for sharing that with me. But… why did your parents name you that?/

Wry smile, even though he knew his other couldn't see it. //I was the youngest child in my family, and the smallest. My five older brothers would pick on me, calling me "weakling" and saying I wasn't worthy of my name.//

/What did you do?/

//Learned how to fight, how to defend myself. When I was able to defeat my brothers in a fight, they left me alone, saying that I *was* worthy of my name after all. I was strong and not the little weakling they thought I was.//

/Is that why.../

//You're weak, Ryou, and that is why you're alone. Nobody likes a weakling. You have to prove to them that you are strong and worthy of their respect.//

/But I'm not you, Nakhti. Maybe I wasn't meant to be strong. Maybe I was meant to be exactly who I am./

The spirit considered this. //So you're… happy? Being weak?//

/It's who I am. If I have to change to fit in with how someone else *thinks* I should be, then they obviously never really liked me to begin with./

//Perhaps.//

His other's mental touch retreated for a moment before he returned. /I have to go. Dad's calling me for dinner. Nakhti, thank you for talking to me./ Then the boy was gone, leaving the spirit alone again with his thoughts. The walls went back up as he considered his other half's words.

And slowly, so slowly it was barely noticeable, a crack began to appear in the nearest wall.

*****

("Nakhti" means "strong" in Egyptian.)

/END



Note : Alba wrote this fic - clearly inspired by Kazuki Takahashi's "Yu-Gi-Oh". Basically, the story is about the duality of human / two paradoxical sides of a person (in this case, yami or nakhti and ryou). But she also made a very interesting point here... "what is built can be broken".
Somehow the quote reminds me of something. Someone. And I have a special message for this 'someone'.

"You don't build something that you DON'T WANNA build." :)