Chapter 9: Hiding in Tears
The next morning Mariko noticed instantly that her friend wasn’t well. “Are you okay?” she asked delicately. “You skipped cram school last night.”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” Hitomi replied. “Let’s not race today, okay? I’m tired.”
“Sure.” Too tired? That doesn’t sound like Hitomi. She slid off her bike and walked alongside it instead. “I hope you feel better soon. The meet’s today.”
Hitomi stared at her blankly for a moment, and then slapped her forehead. “Oh my God, I almost forgot! It is, isn’t it? I can’t believe it.” She quickly checked her things and sighed in relief--she’d pre-packed her shoes and spikes the night before. “Thank God.”
Mariko regarded her friend with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you shouldn’t run today.”
“Not run?” She shook her head emphatically. “I have to--the team’s counting on me. Besides, I’m okay. Really.” She smiled falsely and continued on. “So don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“If you say so.” Mariko shrugged and followed.
During lunch Hitomi folded her arms on her desk and fell asleep. Several seats away, Yukari quietly reassured several members of the track team. “She’s fine, she’s fine. She just didn’t get much sleep, that’s all. Today’s going to be fin. You guys have to pull together, too.”
As soon as classes had ended, Yukari dragged her gloomy friend to the locker room and forced her to sit down. Mariko joined them--together the girls made an intimidating combination. “All right, Hitomi, it’s time to fess up. What happened to you and Van?”
Hitomi stared, and glanced way guiltily. “Um…what do you mean?” Guys, I know you mean well, but I can’t handle this right now.
“Listen--we all know he’s gone,” Mariko took over. “We saw the weird shiny-light-thingy. And we, as your best friends, can’t let you go out there until we know you’re okay.”
“Mariko….” Hitomi bit her lip. I’ve been ignoring all my friends completely ever since Van came. But they’re still willing to do anything to help me. I need to make that up to them somehow. She cringed. But can I really tell them everything? She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts.
“Van did leave,” she blurted out. “He went home to take care of some things, but he’ll be back.”
“And?” Yukari prompted. “Then what?”
Hitomi wrung her fingers anxiously. “Then…I don’t know. But I do know that if I’m going to get
through this meet, I can’t start thinking of it now. So please, let’s just drop it?”
Yukari and Mariko exchanged unsatisfied glances before relenting. “Okay,” the latter said. “But when this is over--and I mean soon--we’re going to have a long talk.”
She ducked her head. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Van listened to the entire story. He sat at the table in his drawing room, Merle at his side, the Sorcerer across from them. Allen stood before the room’s only window. They all listened as Kolaf Driffth explained in detail the circumstances leading up to Celena’s fate change. He told them of Dornkirk’s search for the perfect child. He told of Dilandau’s training and schooling, and the selection of the Dragonslayers that would be his underlings. Sparing no semantics he described Dilandau’s relapse after the deaths of his companions--the fit of mad, wordless ranting and nights of agonizing visions. All of it opened before them, frightening and humbling. Merle pulled close to Van as comfort, but even he was deeply disturbed. He couldn’t imagine what Allen must have been thinking.
“I don’t know exactly what’s happened to Celena,” Kolaf finished. “But after hearing your account, your Majesty, it seems clear that out two ‘screens’ are merging. The appearance of the Dragonslayer may have dissolved our memory block, which led to this.”
Still at the window, Allen folded his hands behind his back. “You mentioned to me earlier that the Sorcerers had hoped for this, for them to become one. Why?”
“Because then his potential would be at its utmost. Oh, I mean, hers.” He coughed into his hand. “Forgive me. Anyway, we’d originally tried to alter a person’s fate directly, but it would never hold well enough without a screen. That is, until Dornkirk’s machine was finalized. But it was destroyed too soon for any sensible data to be recorded.”
Van folded his hands and pressed his knuckles thoughtfully against his mouth. “It’s all because of Dornkirk’s machine.” Hitomi had said that. So, it really could change fate. He quickly beat down those thoughts before they could open to another subject.
“But Celena, completely merged with Dilandau, would then be connected directly to her Fate Nature,” the Sorcerer continued. She would think only of her destiny, and behave accordingly. Which explains her periods of appeared mindlessness. She was functioning on pure instinct.”
Van raised his head slowly. “There’s a part of her that hasn’t merged,” he said softly. Allen’s chin tilted up a bit at the words as well. “She still thinks of Jovey--she’s concerned about his safety. She wouldn’t do that if it was all instinct.”
“Unless she considers him essential to her plan.” When he noticed that he’d lowered their spirits, he quickly added, “but that may be a good sign. If Jovey’s injury was as severe as Allen indicated, leaving him would have been more convenient for her.”
The group pondered this for a moment. Then Merle asked, “So, why should Van stay away from her? You said it’d be dangerous.”
Kolaf nodded. “Yes, very. Remember, we programmed Celena’s destiny--she exists only to kill Van--um, your Majesty.”
“Van is fine,” the king said dismissively.
“Thank you. Anyway, if the two of you are forced together, it will become a fight to the death. Allen has told me that both of you are exceptional fighters. Bloodshed will be inevitable and in that state Celena may become unreachable. If we can get to her before that, it may be possible to help her overcome her fate nature.”
Allen asked, “Are you sure we can’t simply change her destiny?”
Kolaf sighed sympathetically. “I could acquire suitable equipment through Zaibach, if given enough time. But change it to what?”
“It’d be better if we let her create her own destiny,” Van added quietly. “Not give her a new one.”
The knight nodded his silent agreement. “In that case, I’m open to your suggestions, Van, Kolaf.”
“I can’t guarantee anything,” Kolaf admitted. “I’ve been able to rehabilitate several of our past subjects, but never a case as delicate and complicated as Dilandau. I do, however, suggest that you get to this Dragonslayer fellow and explain some things to him.”
Van lowered his eyes. He felt almost a twinge of guild in thinking of the youth, buried within the knowledge of his past sins. “Jovey knows about Celena,” he murmured, “and wants nothing to do with her.”
“Change his mind,” Kolaf insisted. “If Celena and Dilandau both trust him, his help with bee valuable. It’s the same as when we used Jajuka to stabilize her.”
The king winced, and felt Merle’s hand close over his in comfort. Another fault of mine. If I’d known only a minute earlier, I would have never killed him. He licked his lips. Even if we’re able to help Celena escape her destiny, she’ll still hate me.
“Lord Van?” Merle asked, nudging him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine, Merle. Just tired.” He lifted his head and gazed toward the window. Allen had become no more than a silhouette, outlined by the soft orange of lazy sunset. He looked almost like a statue, staring blindly at a kingdom that wasn’t his. I wonder if he’ll forgive me. Most of this is my fault, as much as the Sorcerers. She was taken because of me. I scarred Dilandau, killed his comrades and his friend. Coming here started this nightmare. His focus drifted further, to the rim of earth’s sphere that was still just barely visible among dots of thing clouds. It looked even farther away than before he’d visited it, less than a day before. It even appeared…sad. Perhaps lonely. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of his city that were deathly quiet in comparison to Tokyo’s raging streets. And when he pictured Hitomi, he could see only her tears.
Hitomi pulled back her hair and secured it with her favorite blue tie. Her shoelaces were next--double knotted, just to be sure. She tested the tightness experimentally, and was pleased by the feel of the fresh bindings. Her money had been well spent. With a soft smile she tossed her bag aside and jogged onto the field.
“Hitomi! You’re up after this heat,” Yukari declared, a clipboard in one hand and a pencil tucked behind her ear. Around her neck was a red stopwatch--she took her managing position very seriously. “How do you feel?”
“Great.”
“You’re not anxious? Nervous?”
“Nope.” Hitomi smiled, though she didn’t try to hide a plea--she was tired of people questioning her well being. “I’ve got new shoes, after all.”
Yukari caught the hint and laid off. “You’re the boss.”
Hitomi moved to the edge of the track to cheer for her teammates. Once the boys had finished she was up--the 50 meter dash, possibly her best event. She took her place and set into position. Down the line of bodies, her friend Mayumi winked. Hitomi winked back and then focused her sight ahead.
Off the to the side stood the man with the starting gun. He was watching the officials at the other end, waiting for their signal. Hitomi took several deep breaths, letting her mind slip into a calm rhythm. She’d done this a hundred times before. The runners alongside her were fresh--this was the first race for all of them. She could feel their excitement in the air around her, and she borrowed a bit of it for herself.
Take courage.
On the starter’s command bent down, resting her weight equally on her fingertips and forward foot. Her peers did likewise, all focused and waiting, already breathless. A small bit of pride rose in her at her own maturity; she would not be so easily uplifted. Her path stretched before her. Take courage, she repeated to herself, sneaking a glance at Yukari off to the side. Her friend was smiling excitedly. Further away stood Mariko, chatting to Kenji. They both quickly turned their attention on the impending race.
The gun went off, and Hitomi leapt into motion. Her feet pounded against the track, arms pumping; never losing sight of the finish. The scenery around her melted into a blur. She could no longer see the other contestants but she felt their presence, clawing at her heels. She pushed herself faster. The goal was nearly within her reach, and she flung herself forward that extra distance, as if flying instead of running.
And then she slowed, gasping for breath. Someone steadied her and handed her a cup of water. Hitomi thanked them, glancing back at the other runners who’d also finished. Mayumi grinned breathlessly. “Good job, Hitomi.”
Hitomi told her the same, and together the moved off the track. They were greeted quickly by Yukari, Mariko, and Kenji, who had much to say about her performance. She’d finished first. She accepted all their praise graciously, and cheered as the second heat began. Then she excused herself to prepare for the next event.
Hours later the meet had ended, and everyone went on their way home. Hitomi snuck away from the commotion, changed quickly, and managed to leave before her friends could catch up. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate their help--she simply didn’t want to have to talk about Van, if she could help it. Her thoughts were confused enough already.
It started as s tightness in her chest that wouldn’t go away. Stop it, she commanded fiercely, fighting back the lump in her throat that followed. You can’t cry now. Not in the middle of the street, with all these people. She started across the street, caught up in the flowing crowd. They passed around her without notice or care.
It would have been nice to have Van there. She’d even been ready to invite him, the evening before when he’d announced his departure. Several of her teammates often brought their boy and girlfriends to the competitions to cheer for them. And sometimes, she’d imagine her friends from Gaea on the sidelines, urging her on.
Hitomi’s eyes began to water. No, please. She kept walking stubbornly, as if she could force her legs not to tremble by giving them a task. Just wait until I get home, at least. She bit her lip painfully. I’m not going to cry over him.
“But Hitomi, I love you.”
Hitomi stopped walking as her tears began to fall. She swiped at them in frustration, refusing them, which only made it worse. The crowds continued to press in around her; when she tried to take a deep breath the air tasted bitter and made her cough. She fled to a nearby coffee shop and entered the bathroom in the back. Thankfully, both stalls were empty. She chose on and sat down, trying to wipe her eyes. She couldn’t stop crying. Soon she was sobbing, angry with herself for being so weak but also too lonely to care.
My friends are here, Hitomi told herself. My family has been more than understanding. This planet is my home, where I was born and raised. This is where I belong. Gaea is a world of war. It’s wild, and medieval, and simple. All I have there are a handful of friends and Van, nothing more. This is where I belong.
She covered her face in her hands and wept. Because she knew the awful truth which rested inside her; without Van, none of that mattered. She would go back to her simple, patterned life. She would go on to college, and become a working woman, and grow old and die. Her days would be as pointless and empty as they had been without him. Without Van, love was nothing more than a charming lie told to children to give them hope, because somehow she knew she would never find it again.
Hitomi didn’t arrive home until late. Only her father was still awake, sitting in the living room with a new book--he adored reading, so finding him like this was in no way unique. He glanced up as she entered on leaded feet. “Welcome home.”
“Hello.” She stepped out of her shoes and shuffled inside. “I’m going to bed.”
“Of course. It must have been a tough meet.”
Hitomi stopped walking. She quickly turned her head away to avoid him seeing her red and swollen eyes. “Yeah,” she replied. “But we won.”
“Congratulations.”
No, not now, again. She covered her mouth even as she felt her tears resurfacing. Her father’s calm, understanding demeanor was destroying her. He sounded as if he already knew where she’d been the past hour.
“Hitomi, come over here,” he coaxed gently.
Hitomi dropped her things and joined her father on the living room sofa. He welcomed her under his arm. She cried against him quietly, and he held her without questions. He didn’t even have to speak. She even got the impression that he was smiling faintly, which she found oddly comforting. Once she’d finished he helped her up to her room and left while she changed, returning with her things. He placed them aside to be dealt with later. “Go to sleep now,” he told her. “We’ll excuse you from school tomorrow, if you want.”
Her father was always trying to do that for her, though her mother greatly disapproved. She shook he head. “Thanks Dad, but I should go. I’ve worried Yukari and Mariko enough as it is.”
“They both called while you were gone,” he remarked. “But it’s pretty late now. You can see them tomorrow.” He made sure she was tucked in before kissing her forehead. “So sleep.”
Hitomi nodded weakly, as she was already exhausted. “Thank you.” He smiled--just a bit, as he always did--and quietly left.
Hitomi pulled the blankets closer to her. Does everyone really understand me that well? she wondered gloomily. Is it so obvious, wherever I go, that I’m in pain? She closed her eyes tightly and sighed. Damn you, Van, for making me so weak.
Her mind flared suddenly with flashes of bright light. Hitomi gasped and bolted upright. Her body felt suddenly warm, as if surrounded by fire, and her gaze swam. No--no, what’s happening? It couldn’t be--
Hitomi’s gaze focused abruptly, but it was not her room that she saw: she was outside, standing among Tokyo’s busy streets. The crowds moved past her unknowingly. It’s…a vision, she realized with a start. But I haven’t had any since I came back from Gaea. What’s going on?
She closed her eyes, trying to force the scenery away. No, I don’t want to see. I don’t want to know the future. I’ve had enough.
And then the world grew cold and silent around her. Cautiously, with her own morbid curiosity, she opened her eyes. She didn’t want to see, but she knew that had to--she couldn’t help it. What she saw was millions of drifting white feathers, floating like snow down to earth. And when she lifted her gaze to the sky she viewed their source: Van, suspended high above her head, his wings spread fully and his gaze soft. He reached his hand out to her, and his lips curled in a smile.
-Hitomi-
The beautiful white wings twisted, stretched, and then silently fell away. The wind separated them from their master and plucked the feathers out, one by one, until they had become part of the blurred white storm descending on Tokyo’s crowded and oblivious streets. Hitomi could only watch, horror stricken, as Van’s body slipped from the sky, on his face still the same peaceful smile.
“Van!” With a start
Hitomi awoke from the vision, her heart fluttering wildly against her
ribs. It’s over, she told
herself, forcing her breath into a more reasonable pace. It’s over. Calm down.
She shook her head fiercely. No, it wasn’t a vision. It couldn’t have been. I gave that up a long time ago. She licked her lips and blacked the images from her mind. No. No, I won’t let it be a vision. Van is fine. He’ll be fine. I’m just worrying too much. I’m too tired.
Hitomi lay back down, determined to ignore the premonition. However, try as she might, she couldn’t erase the burning memory of Van’s smile.