Fan Fiction ❯ chase after the wind ❯ 4 ( Chapter 4 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: gnosis 
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.24.2004 | Updated On: 09.22.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 160 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.24.2004 | Updated On: 09.22.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 160 | Status: Completed
" Yes there are 2 roads u can go on, but in the long run, there's still time to change the road your on" Led Zeppelin
Time, constant and relentless, seemed to move more swiftly in that single day then Ayane had ever experienced. It seemed to her that she had, only moments ago, been allowing a hot spring to wash over her body, and to ease her pain. IT had felt there as though time had stopped completely, with the wind gently rustling the trees and the living creates all in harmony with one another. The spring was about ½ km away from her current house, it was the only good thing about her bungalow. She was the only one who knew of its existence, the only one who believed it was there. It was small, big enough for only a very few, but she was the only one who ever went there she and the other. There was, perhaps, another but she did not mean anything. The other was dead to her, and she would soon kill the shadow of the body to finish the death of her sister's soul. She had died when she had left the clan, killing her was just tying up loose ends. And besides, she was dead to Ayane years before that. In any case now, when she opened her eyes after what felt like only a blink, reality had changed.
She was no longer in the forest, listening to the harmony of the wind and the delicate interplay of the light and shadows. Now she stood at the base of the modern crossroads of the world, the new trading center and modern outpost. Cement jetted up towards the high heavens in every possible direction, invading the space and sanctity of the temple of the gods. Cars resonated on these concrete monstrosities and echoed endless into a cold and apathetic world. A world built by her fellow man. She would never get used to the city, she would never get used to how these people lived, and she thanked the gods for it. Her eyes watched the bleak horizon, the sun dying the buildings and ominous shade of blood red, and she seemed the only one who noticed. She would have stared, transfixed by this morbid scene, if it were not for him. He pushed her, rather roughly, and said simple, 'let's go'
They began their assent up the stairs, assent into modern madness. They were at the airport. It, like all the other buildings, seemed wrong and out of place. It seemed to radiate energy that it had stolen through the years. She wondered how many people had past through her, how many people had left there mark. What happened next is hard to describe. The door threw itself open, of it's own accord, and they step into the airport. Harsh artificial lighting pounded down on them as they entered a sea of voices.
IT was at this point that existence came into question. Thousands of people interacting with each other, but I such brief spans of time that these interactions held no meaning. Slight glances and nodes of the head, near collisions and collisions, reality here was in the constant grip of death and resurrection, as fluent as a river, a river of people. People moving, seemingly obvious to each other, and yet the fact that others were there was undeniable. Ayane felt so alone during times like these. Even at the village, she hated crowds just because they seemed to emphases her own alienation. She knew she was alone and yet the world seemed to feel it had to show her these glimpses of what might be. She watched as children ran by, laughing and playing, and a worried father chasing them and spouting of idle threats. Happy couples and happy people seemed inescapable. People were being reunited with those who really matter and then being swept up by the river into an ocean of joyous oblivion. These people were no more real to her then ghosts, echoes, and shadows in the night, and yet they tormented her so. She shook her head, gently, attempting to expel these thoughts.
When she allowed her eyes to open again, she was standing at the ticket counter. The woman there seemed more a part of the airport, then apart from it. She seemed old and spiteful. Her eyes housed a soulless oblivion, but her's was of a different kind then fighters. She was a bit taller then Ayane, and spoke in such a monotone voice that she sounded like a computer. It was not her concern that they be content nor that they arrive, her only true function was to ensure that the river flowed smoothly enough that no one questioned where it flowed to.
" My wife and I have tickets for the 9 pm plain." Hayate spoke these words. He said them so well for his role, too well. They had humanity in them, an actual semblance of feeling. She had to glance at him. For the briefest of moments, she recalled Ein. Hayate and he shared the same heart, a heart that was, deep within itself, noble and just. It was simple, Ein allowed his heart to govern his actions, whereas Hayate allowed his mind. Ein had opened up to the world, for he did not know yet that this was not a wise course of action. He wore a pair of jeans and a yellow tee shirt. They had both received some clothing from the thrift store because shinobis weren't welcome on plains. She then looked down at her own figure. She wore a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top. Apart from her headband, they were almost completely separate entities then the people they truly were. For a moment, Ayane almost believed that Hayate spoke the truth. This moment, like all of them in this limbo, past as fast as it came.
The conversation proceeded as utilitarian as could be expected, Hayate and the woman exchanging the customary greetings, simple because that was what occurred. Then the smooth flow was halted abruptly as the woman said, " I see you have received permission to carry on potentially dangerous items, may I ask why?"
" Well, you see Joan, I am a dealer in antiques. I have recently procured several items, like swords, that will fetch a hefty price on the market. They are genuine 19th century items, and I have a client I am meeting to sell these to. I assure you, if I were to use one, I would undoubtedly cut my own head off first, in some kind of freak ascendant." They eached laughed, seemingly out of courtesy. The woman seemed to Ayane to still be apprehensive, but they had the necessary forms, and so she allowed them to move on.
The duration of the next hour reflected something like this. They would go, Hayate would speak and then they would go somewhere else. It was so mechanical, so robotic, so inhumane. They finally arrived at their gate and sat down. The plain would leave soon. Ayane hated flying, she hated anything that involved her coming into any city. More then this, she hated placing her life in the hands of a thing that might as well have run off magic and in the hands of people who knew how it worked. She decided instead of pondering this she would eat the bag of chips that she must have picked up somewhere along the line, and yet had no memory of doing so.
She thought quietly of her mission and of the words of the woman prophet. The woman said that Ayane had a choice, but if she did, Ayane couldn't see it. Nothing was stronger then habit. She had lived the way she had lived for all of her life and the woman asking her to change now seemed as absurd as her ordering the constant river here to stop. And yet, deep within a part of herself that she did her best to subdue, she wondered .
Time, constant and relentless, seemed to move more swiftly in that single day then Ayane had ever experienced. It seemed to her that she had, only moments ago, been allowing a hot spring to wash over her body, and to ease her pain. IT had felt there as though time had stopped completely, with the wind gently rustling the trees and the living creates all in harmony with one another. The spring was about ½ km away from her current house, it was the only good thing about her bungalow. She was the only one who knew of its existence, the only one who believed it was there. It was small, big enough for only a very few, but she was the only one who ever went there she and the other. There was, perhaps, another but she did not mean anything. The other was dead to her, and she would soon kill the shadow of the body to finish the death of her sister's soul. She had died when she had left the clan, killing her was just tying up loose ends. And besides, she was dead to Ayane years before that. In any case now, when she opened her eyes after what felt like only a blink, reality had changed.
She was no longer in the forest, listening to the harmony of the wind and the delicate interplay of the light and shadows. Now she stood at the base of the modern crossroads of the world, the new trading center and modern outpost. Cement jetted up towards the high heavens in every possible direction, invading the space and sanctity of the temple of the gods. Cars resonated on these concrete monstrosities and echoed endless into a cold and apathetic world. A world built by her fellow man. She would never get used to the city, she would never get used to how these people lived, and she thanked the gods for it. Her eyes watched the bleak horizon, the sun dying the buildings and ominous shade of blood red, and she seemed the only one who noticed. She would have stared, transfixed by this morbid scene, if it were not for him. He pushed her, rather roughly, and said simple, 'let's go'
They began their assent up the stairs, assent into modern madness. They were at the airport. It, like all the other buildings, seemed wrong and out of place. It seemed to radiate energy that it had stolen through the years. She wondered how many people had past through her, how many people had left there mark. What happened next is hard to describe. The door threw itself open, of it's own accord, and they step into the airport. Harsh artificial lighting pounded down on them as they entered a sea of voices.
IT was at this point that existence came into question. Thousands of people interacting with each other, but I such brief spans of time that these interactions held no meaning. Slight glances and nodes of the head, near collisions and collisions, reality here was in the constant grip of death and resurrection, as fluent as a river, a river of people. People moving, seemingly obvious to each other, and yet the fact that others were there was undeniable. Ayane felt so alone during times like these. Even at the village, she hated crowds just because they seemed to emphases her own alienation. She knew she was alone and yet the world seemed to feel it had to show her these glimpses of what might be. She watched as children ran by, laughing and playing, and a worried father chasing them and spouting of idle threats. Happy couples and happy people seemed inescapable. People were being reunited with those who really matter and then being swept up by the river into an ocean of joyous oblivion. These people were no more real to her then ghosts, echoes, and shadows in the night, and yet they tormented her so. She shook her head, gently, attempting to expel these thoughts.
When she allowed her eyes to open again, she was standing at the ticket counter. The woman there seemed more a part of the airport, then apart from it. She seemed old and spiteful. Her eyes housed a soulless oblivion, but her's was of a different kind then fighters. She was a bit taller then Ayane, and spoke in such a monotone voice that she sounded like a computer. It was not her concern that they be content nor that they arrive, her only true function was to ensure that the river flowed smoothly enough that no one questioned where it flowed to.
" My wife and I have tickets for the 9 pm plain." Hayate spoke these words. He said them so well for his role, too well. They had humanity in them, an actual semblance of feeling. She had to glance at him. For the briefest of moments, she recalled Ein. Hayate and he shared the same heart, a heart that was, deep within itself, noble and just. It was simple, Ein allowed his heart to govern his actions, whereas Hayate allowed his mind. Ein had opened up to the world, for he did not know yet that this was not a wise course of action. He wore a pair of jeans and a yellow tee shirt. They had both received some clothing from the thrift store because shinobis weren't welcome on plains. She then looked down at her own figure. She wore a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top. Apart from her headband, they were almost completely separate entities then the people they truly were. For a moment, Ayane almost believed that Hayate spoke the truth. This moment, like all of them in this limbo, past as fast as it came.
The conversation proceeded as utilitarian as could be expected, Hayate and the woman exchanging the customary greetings, simple because that was what occurred. Then the smooth flow was halted abruptly as the woman said, " I see you have received permission to carry on potentially dangerous items, may I ask why?"
" Well, you see Joan, I am a dealer in antiques. I have recently procured several items, like swords, that will fetch a hefty price on the market. They are genuine 19th century items, and I have a client I am meeting to sell these to. I assure you, if I were to use one, I would undoubtedly cut my own head off first, in some kind of freak ascendant." They eached laughed, seemingly out of courtesy. The woman seemed to Ayane to still be apprehensive, but they had the necessary forms, and so she allowed them to move on.
The duration of the next hour reflected something like this. They would go, Hayate would speak and then they would go somewhere else. It was so mechanical, so robotic, so inhumane. They finally arrived at their gate and sat down. The plain would leave soon. Ayane hated flying, she hated anything that involved her coming into any city. More then this, she hated placing her life in the hands of a thing that might as well have run off magic and in the hands of people who knew how it worked. She decided instead of pondering this she would eat the bag of chips that she must have picked up somewhere along the line, and yet had no memory of doing so.
She thought quietly of her mission and of the words of the woman prophet. The woman said that Ayane had a choice, but if she did, Ayane couldn't see it. Nothing was stronger then habit. She had lived the way she had lived for all of her life and the woman asking her to change now seemed as absurd as her ordering the constant river here to stop. And yet, deep within a part of herself that she did her best to subdue, she wondered .