Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Piece of Her Wings ~Untouched~ ❯ The Song of Sora ( Chapter 8 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: sadamex
Anime/Manga: Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.25.2005 | Pages: 14 | Words: 31.2K | Visits: 322 | Status: Completed

Chapter Eight:
The Song of Sora
The young man chuckled to himself. “I just can't believe this,” he said, shaking his head slightly. He held a tattered torch in his left hand, while his free right grasped the rough sides of the underground cavern he was exploring. His feet stepped out slowly in front of him almost automatically, one foot after another. From the ruddy glow of his torchlight, he could see eerie-looking shadows dancing around and above him throughout the vast grottos. He looked up to see different kinds of critters staring down at him with an almost reptilian indifference. A small pebble hit his right foot due to his inattention, and he stumbled forward slightly, giving a surprised oath.
He still couldn't believe it. As he rounded a corner into another low-ceilinged corridor, he once again shook his head. “Just like how she said it would be,” he mumbled. He had to bow down low to enter the next cavern, and when he did he stopped for a while to stretch himself and to look around. “A shallow underground lake with a black sand floor... exactly like she said.”
He looked high above him to see the vast roof almost as black as the fine silt sand in the bottom of the calm lake that was in the middle of the fairly large cavern. He gave off a long low whistle, not being surprised to hear it echoing back at him. He walked towards the lake and knelt on one knee, scooping some of the cool water with his hand. He took a sip—it was sweet, and it tasted pure, unlike any other water he had ever tasted.
Soon he was on his feet and on the move again—she did say to make haste—walking quietly down rooms and passages with an uncanny precision. “After this room, I have to see a corridor that breaks into five,” he muttered as he raised his leg so as not to trip on the loose boulder that had managed to dislodge itself from the ceiling. As he neared the end of the corridor, his instructions were once again proven to be accurate. In front of him were five paths to choose from. Had he not been given a specific and very detailed sketch, he was sure that he would have been lost. He went into each passage mouth and felt the left wall with his hand. His face looked relieved when he felt the five-pointed star crack that was supposed to be the mark. “Well, finally,” he breathed, plunging into the darkness of the chosen passage.
The eerie silence that hung thick all round him seemed to calm and agitate him at the same time. To ease himself, he walked on while musing how these bizarre set of events had happened this evening. It had been a little while after the fairly strong earthquake, when he had been making sure that his home and grossly expectant wife were all fine. And then quite suddenly, she was there, standing in his doorway, garbed in her simple priestess robes and that immaculate blindfold over her eyes. She pleaded him to take his torch and to make haste—he needed to rescue a wounded girl inside the caverns in the mountain over the west.
“But there are no caves in that mountain, holy priestess,” he remembered himself saying then.
But the priestess urged him to go before the night ends. And then, while he was still putting on his dark blue robe over his tunic and packing bandages and herbs, the blindfolded woman began telling him very carefully his way around the caves. When he was all set and he had reassured his wife that everything would turn out alright, he repeated every detail the priestess had told him. When she had made sure that her instructions were firmly set into his mind, she said a little prayer for guidance, bade him once again to make haste, and sent him off into the night.
“Who would've ever thought that there really was a cave in here,” he chuckled, shaking his head again. But he was absolutely sure that there weren't any entrances into the mountain. He was a hunter; he had been into the forest and the mountain many, many times before to know what he was talking about. After a while, he concluded that the cave might have been the result of the earthquake that happened a while ago. He also deduced that since he knew the area so well, he was the one that the priestess asked to go out.
He entered another cavern, and it was littered here and there with rubble. “I wonder how anyone would end up in here,” he said to no one in particular. He exited the cavern and walked into a long, narrow passage. “More importantly... why?”
He walked on and on, and he had just realized that he was beginning to get tired. He had been hunting skittish deer that morning, and he hadn't had enough rest, what with that earthquake and all. “These winding passages go on forever, it seems,” he commented dryly, wiping at his brow.
At last he came into the cavern that the priestess last described. A large part of its roof had fallen off, and the exit at the other end was blocked off by huge boulders. He also noted with some satisfaction—though it did sent a shudder through him—that the walls on this room glowed with some phosphorescent kind of light. Also, if her words were proving themselves—which they have, of course—this was also the room where the said wounded girl would be.
The man walked forward, his robe suddenly making him quite hot. Wiping at his brow again, he noticed something pristine and sparkling standing out like a white beacon into the dark distance. He held his torch a little higher and paced faster.
As he neared it, he saw a young woman sitting down on the floor, her back pressed against the blocked exit, the white shining—feathers?—sticking out apparently from her back. Her head was bowed low, as if she was unconscious, her mop of sandy hair falling all around her face, making her unknown to him.
“Miss, are you alright?” he said, to which he got no answer. “Miss?” he tried again, but to no avail.
He knelt down before her as he rummaged through his pockets to get some herbs and bandages out. “Miss? Are you alright?” he asked again, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. Having no reply for the third time, he stopped, dropped the bandages on his lap and held her wrist. He found there a strong, steady pulse. “I guess she's just unconscious,” he muttered.
He began dressing her wounds, but he soon ran out of stock before he could tend to the ones on her legs and back. Propping his torch into some boulders, he gently shook the girl's shoulders with his hands. “I'm here to rescue you and take you into the village,” he said. “Please wake up.”
And then she stirred. She didn't open her eyes, but at least the man knew she was only sleeping. Poor girl, she must've been exhausted, being caught inside here during that earthquake!
The girl gave a low moan, and she adjusted her head, pressing it against the stone wall. As the torchlight now gave discernment to her soft features, the man who was holding her shoulders gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief. “It... it can't be!” he said in a choked whisper. “Hitomi!”
- - -
Win dein a lotica
En vai turi silota
Fin dein a loluca
En dragu a sei lain
Vi fa-ru les shutai am
En riga-lint...
There was a sense of restlessness in Hitomi's dreams that seemed to reflect her current mood that night. She had had dreams before, many, many dreams, but not like the one she was having right now. Before, she had been inside her dreams also, being able to participate into whatever wonderful or horrible thing her drowsy mind had to let her experience. She resembled in that respect an actress; one who would submerge her whole being into the things and emotions that were presented upon her.
But this time, it was different. This time, Hitomi felt as though she was just a mere spectator; like an invisible audience watching a show. She felt as though her dream was a story laid out in front of her through a wide panoramic screen... one that she was just allowed to watch from a distance.
It wasn't that Hitomi would object. She had no qualms about only being able to watch and not actually live her dreams; some of her dreams had been gruesome as of late. She wasn't disappointed as she was frustrated—this particular dream was making her dizzy. There just doesn't seem any point in it! Everything seemed so fast, so hurried that they didn't make any sense. She would just barely grasp one idea when another would come crashing right before her eyes, and then fleetingly disappear to make way for the next. It was terribly confusing—and exhausting—for Hitomi that at times she'd want nothing but scream.
The images were varied. Some were detailed lovingly; some were faint sketches of the vaguest kind. Everything seemed so fast-paced, so transient, that it left her wanting more and more and wanting no more at the same time. At first, there was Hitomi, or at least Hitomi felt that the little girl knelt before her was herself. She was all alone, and she was crying in the darkness. She was wearing a faded brown peasant dress; one with patches and frayed cuffs. Her hair was cut short, barely touching her shoulders. Her pitiful sobs sent torrents of pain through Hitomi's heart. And then little Hitomi was gone, replaced by a lush grassy field. The wind broke the grass into long rolling waves. And then the field faded away and became falling leaves of brown and amber. Faster and faster the images spun, dizzying yet mesmerizing. More and more images assaulted her mind. Milky white arms. Crushed flower petals of lavender and crimson. Blood spatters on palms. A woman talking. Bruises on the corner of the mouth. Feet sloshing underwater. A woman crying. Broken vases and shattered glass. Smeary clouds. A girl climbing a tree. A long, battered wooden rod with a twisted handle. Shadows playing under the hot sun. A flash of deep red hair.
Hitomi stirred from her sleep, her subconscious trying to flinch from all these pictures that were constantly played and passed on, as if someone was trying to cram everything in her at once. She gave a low moan as she squirmed uncomfortably from where she lay.
Win chent a lotica
En vai turi silota
Fin dein a loluca
Si katigura neuver
Floreria for chesti
Si entina...
A strip of white cloth. A lone candle being lit. Arms stretched out in the darkness. The cry of a lonely falcon. A child with soft black curls. The mast of a ship. The bleary path of a falling star. A woman shouting. Brown hair. A table full of white paper cranes. A pair of rusty scissors. Broken sandals. And then little Hitomi knelt in front of her crying again...
The images were spinning faster and faster now. Hitomi's eyes were moving rapidly along with it. She whimpered in her sleep; she felt like throwing up after all the visual assault that was being bombarded at her tired and thoroughly depleted system. Apparently, that only made matters worse. If Hitomi thought that the pictures were spinning fast before, then the way they spun right now must have been at an obscene speed. She started to jerk her head sideways, while her fingers twitched, making sudden snatches at her hair.
The man carrying her passed a short glance at her. She was making him very nervous. The fact that she was someone he knew only made matters even more difficult—that and the fact that she had a pair of glistening white wings on her back. The man gave a soft grunt as he shifted her weight on his good arm, resulting in another whimper from the profusely sweating girl.
Hitomi was tossing her head wildly now. She wanted her dream to stop. There weren't any disturbing or vividly grotesque scenes or images, but there was something in her dream that truly frightened her. There was some sort of message—kind of like a tinge of influence—that was embedded inside those pictures that had filled her with dread. She had wanted to scream a while earlier, but her mouth seemed to be clamped shut. Frustrated that she could only mutter a silent scream, Hitomi then proceeded into thrashing about with her arms and feet.
And that made her rescuer flinch back, as one of her clenched fists hit his jaw. He made gentle shakes to try to wake the sunshine-haired lady, but was only met with more fists and feet. He decided to set her down firmly on the ground to stop her from hitting him.
As Hitomi's gallant rescuer shifted her position so she was almost standing upright, the images in her dream had stopped spinning, replaced by only one flickering image. It was of a sepia-colored woman with gently waving hair that kept silently mouthing to her one thing.
“Wake up.”
Hitomi's feet met the rough ground with a soft thud. The man beside her made a small grunt. Hitomi's eyes fluttered heavily, thick lashes sweeping across her line of vision making it even blurrier than it already is. From what she could make of it, they were still inside the mountain, walking along a winding passageway. There was a faint light from somewhere in the distance beyond her, and there was a gentle breeze that caressed her face; one that smelt of evergreens and wildflowers.
“Thank the Gods that you're awake. Can you walk by yourself?” said a tender and oddly familiar voice beside her. One hand was pressed firmly but gently on the small of her back that urged her to take even small steps forward. Hitomi's still-foggy mind refused to register what was happening all around her, but as she took more and more steps, her blood finally circulated through her veins long enough to make her think coherently.
There was somebody beside her!
She spun around, and was instantly met by the kindest pair of eyes that she had seen. Tears suddenly found their way out, and began spilling down her cheeks one after another. Hitomi gave a weak smile and a muffled sob. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Hitomi felt happiness and relief surging within her.
“Oh,” she sobbed. She wiped at her eyes and then embraced the startled man beside her. She burrowed her face into his chest. “Oh, Allen,” she moaned, her senses feeling a bit drowsy once more. “I thought I'd never see you again.”
And Hitomi was lost again to unconsciousness.
- - -
The sound of plates clinking softly together filled the ears of the young woman who was drying up her dishes very carefully. Her brows were knit in anxious anticipation. Her lips were pursed tightly, her eyes were focused onto the shiny surface of the sparkling china she held with two delicate hands.
She set the plate down and glanced at the grandfather clock which stood a few feet behind her. It was only a few hours before daybreak. And yet he is not home still. She gave a long sigh and continued on her work, scrubbing imaginary crumbs off the plates using her drying cloth.
Her lower lip trembled slightly, her body tingled. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead as she set her undivided attention to the task at hand. After a while, she set down the plate she was drying and glanced behind her once again, finding that another thirteen minutes have passed, but still no sign from her husband. She gently put the plate away and heaved a long-drawn sigh. I think I'm going crazy.
She slowly turned around and went towards the deeply-cushioned sofa in their small but neatly kept living room. She waddled slowly, her hands gently supporting her distended belly. After she had sat herself comfortably—which resulted in her sprawled across the sofa—she balled one fist and began pounding rhythmically on her shoulders and back. She was carrying a bit of extra weight, and it was positioned at a very awkward place. So even though all she could manage was a stately waddle, she was still putting a lot of pressure on her back.
She chuckled softly when she remembered something from long ago. Her husband had been the perfect picture of manliness when she demurely told him that she was with child. She had not expected what his reaction would be. She thought that he would be very happy, jumping around and shouting to the whole world that he was now, officially, a father. But it had been the exact opposite. He was stunned to insensibility. He just stood there, unloaded rifle in his hands, looking at his radiant wife with unbelieving wide eyes.
When she'd touch his cheek to see if he was alright, he set his gun down and quietly walked out the door, not a single word uttered from his mouth. She had been devastated then, thinking that their relationship had been cursed, that she had been punished by the gods for marrying too early. Because wasn't it true that the child inside her was, in fact, not planned? She had gone into thinking that the unexpected coming of their child had been something of a blessing, but seeing her husband's reaction right now, she felt as if she was about to die.
And then he heard her husband cry out. Alarmed, she ran outside, calling his name. She found him by the temple gates, kneeling on the dirt floor. Too choked up for words, she went to his side and clung to him, tears welling up inside. She held him tight; clutched at his clothes. She would give anything to not have this man leave her. She did not know why he seemed sad; she did not know if it was the baby or something else, but she was willing to do anything to return him to his happiness again.
But she did not expect her husband returning her embrace.
There they were, the youngest couple in the village, holding each other as if their lives depended on it. He held her tight; he stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, nose and lips. Suddenly his shoulders were shaking, and he let go of her, his hands fell flat on the ground, supporting his body. Droplets of water fell to quench the dry earth underneath him, and she glanced at him when she heard a choked sob.
Her husband was crying.
And then, she was there, standing underneath the safety of the great sakura tree, wearing her usual priestess robes and the crisp white blindfold over her eyes. There was a serene smile on her face, and she reached out her hands to him, and he obeyed, rising up from the ground to greet their priestess, hugging her fondly and crying on her shoulder.
“I'm a father, holy priestess! I'm a father! The Gods had seen me fit to bless me with a child!” he sobbed happily over and over again, while the holy woman stood there smiling with purest joy.
And finally realizing everything, she put one delicate hand over her belly, feeling the warmth inside her that nourished their God-given gift. She looked at his beloved; seeing her husband cry out in utter happiness like that sent tears to her eyes. And then, not being able to control it anymore, she covered her face with both hands, and sobbed happily.
The mother-to-be absentmindedly patted her grossly distended belly, a soft smile on her lips. She had endured eight grueling months of pregnancy. When she had promised to herself that she would love her husband all of her life, she had been longing to bear him children. After all, was it or was it not the ultimate expression of a woman's love to her husband to give him children? And she loved her husband with a particularly fervent passion. She was overcome with joy just thinking of spending the rest of their lives raising their child, and their children to come.
She winced a bit as she felt a short pang come from her belly. Silly child, must have been punching, she thought. She glanced at the clock—seven minutes after four. Sighing to herself, she stood up gingerly to go to bed. He'll be back tomorrow, she assured herself. She waddled by the door, checked to see that the gas on the lamp was adequate, and paced sedately towards their bedroom.
Halfway through the room, she leaned one hand on the wall and winced hard.
Am I going into false labor again? She asked herself. Truly, she had gone into false labor earlier that night, a few minutes after the earthquake. The resident midwife had rushed to their home to tend to her. After about an hour, her husband came barging through the door, disheveled and unkempt. The midwife had assured both of them that everything was fine; that the earthquake must have elevated his wife's hormones and anxiousness to send her into labor.
She found herself gripping the side of the table hard. It's just false labor... it'll go away soon, she panted, her face twisted in agony.
She was at their bedroom now. Her heart was pounding very fast, bullets of sweat were trickling down her forehead, and her whole body was shaking. “Anata... anata...” she called out weakly.
The throbbing sensation was getting stronger, the stabs of pain sharper. She found herself sitting on the floor by the foot of their bed, heaving and moaning. She crawled sideways towards the door, and then into the dining room, towards the living area, groaning every inch of the way.
When she reached the living room, she felt something inside burst and something wet trickled down the floor, wetting her smock.
Her water bag just broke.
She felt faint. Her vision was starting to dim. Instantly she knew that she was not into false labor; she had gone into the real thing. No, she thought. Not at a time like this...
She had reached the sofa where she sat a while ago, and she propped herself to sit up, using the sofa as her back support. She could feel the life inside of her wanting to go out, eager to greet the world. But why now, at this hour? She bit her lip, moaning and patting her belly. She was about to give birth, and her husband was far away from her.
“Anata... doko ni iru no?”
- - -
“I can see the entrance now,” he said to no one in particular. Truly, the light from the outside world had seeped into the cave's mouth to spill invitingly across the stone-hewn floor. The stillness in the thin air had been replaced by the softly flowing breeze from the trees. The man closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, happy that he was nearing his home. It had been quite a night, and from his personal point of view, things have only just begun.
He looked down upon the serenely sleeping girl cuddled upon his arms. Her thick lashes rested lightly upon her pale cheek, casting shadows in the dim glow of his sputtering torchlight. He smiled at Hitomi's sleeping form.
Hitomi fidgeted a bit and the heavy robe started to slip from her shoulders. The man then shifted her position so he could put back his robe that he had placed on her. Sighing contentedly, Hitomi snuggled deeper into her rescuer's arms, her chest rising and falling steadily.
At last, the two of them had finally got out of the mountain. The young man let out a sigh of relief as he walked along the hunting trail of the familiar forest. There was something in those caves that made him very nervous. He wasn't very fond of caves, he admitted to himself. He always did get the idea of being entombed in live rock.
He shuddered.
He looked up at the stained sky. The moon was quietly peeking along the horizon, as if checking to see if her lord the sun had already come up to try and chase her. True enough, the sky was now tinted with a muddy orange, signaling to her that she must now hide before the sun catches her in the sky. The man smiled and closed his eyes as he made a short, silent prayer. He was thankful that he had been given another day to witness a new dawn in his life.
He had killed the fire from his torch by then. There was no need to carry out that light, since it was practically morning. Besides, he could have gone through the forest and back even if he was blindfolded, if it was necessary. And, seeing that the torch was near to its demise, anyway, he had carefully tossed it away so he can better take hold of his charge.
His charge. The young man looked down upon Hitomi once again. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that the wounded young girl he was about to rescue was the woman from his past. Destiny was funny sometimes. It has a way of taking from us our most prized possessions, only to be given back when we least expect it. He shook his head and sighed. At least I know she had been alright.
He took a long breath. The air is clearer here than it was in the caves, and he could make out a dozen or so different smells wafting through the cool breeze and into his nostrils. He glanced at the sleeping girl and raised his eyebrows worriedly. I smell something burnt. Has she been in a fire recently?
And then the ground began to shake. It wasn't too strong; more like a gentle rumbling, but it was enough to make the man fall to his knees. He had unceremoniously dropped Hitomi to the ground in the process, causing the said girl to make a face in her sleep. And then, just when the rumbling had come so quickly, it was gone again. The man waited for a few moments to make sure that the earthquake had died, stood up slowly, and looked behind him.
The entrance to the caves was now blocked by a dozen or so boulders.
The young man blinked. Was it an aftershock? He asked himself. Or maybe it was just to... he trailed off. He shook his head to make such thoughts go away; he was in no position to think of anything that ridiculous. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about the sudden earthquake. Did it really just happen to seal off the entrance? Was it the reason why the priestess asked me to hurry? He thought deeply, his heart beating slightly faster. Then, could it be that the reason why that mountain didn't seal itself off any sooner was because of... he turned around slightly. ...Hitomi?
He turned back at the mountain, unbelieving. His eyes couldn't be deceiving him; he could clearly see the mouth of the cave from where they came from. And it was now blocked. Sealed. Forever shut inviolate.
“Ow,” moaned a girl from behind him. The man snapped back to his senses. He turned around, facing the girl he had just rescued. “Why'd you have to drop me, Allen?” Hitomi asked, her face cast downwards, while her arm was bent backwards to massage her lower back. “You could have laid me down gently if I was too heavy for you.” She propped herself on one arm and helped herself to sit up.
Then she met his clear gaze.
The young man smiled amicably. “Hello, Hitomi. It's nice to see you again.”
Her eyes bulged. She lifted one shaking finger at him. “Y-you're not Allen!” she blurted out, almost accusingly.
The young man laughed easily as he ran his hand through his hair. “No, I'm not,” he replied, smiling broadly at the stricken girl in front of him. Hitomi's mouth dropped open. Who was this man?
And then there were voices, lots of them. Loud rustling could be heard from just a few meters away, followed by rushed footsteps. The young man's face shifted from happy to alert as he quickly knelt in front of Hitomi and fixed his robe that had fallen to the ground when Hitomi sat up. “Here,” he said as he offered one of the sleeves of his robe. “Put this on.”
Hitomi was dubious. “W-why?”
The young man smiled at her. “The priestess had asked me to save you and take you back, but it would be a little troublesome to explain to everyone the wings on your back, wouldn't you say?”
The honey-haired girl actually blushed, and obediently slipped her arms inside the loose sleeves of his dark blue robe.
As the shouts and footsteps drew nearer, the rescuer put one of his hands under Hitomi's knees and the other supporting her back. “Pretend to be sleeping,” he whispered to her ear as he lifted her up. Hitomi nodded slowly and closed her eyes, though her heart was beating like a drum inside her chest.
One of the village men had stomped across a fairly-large bush and had seen what they were looking for. His aged face looked relieved when he saw the young man and the girl in his arms. “Thank the Gods!” he exclaimed. “We all thought you didn't make it out of that mountain before the aftershock. Come, we must hurry back to the village.”
The young man nodded. “Thank you for your concern, master Okita,” he mumbled sincerely as he walked towards the old man.
Okita caught up with him and held out his hands to take Hitomi from him. The young man hesitated for a moment, glancing about. “Oh, you don't have to take her, Okita-san,” he said as calmly as he could. “She's not that heavy, and I'm not tired. Besides, the village isn't that far, and...”
“Amano!” a younger male came rushing towards them.
Hitomi's eyebrow twitched. Amano? His name's Amano? She couldn't placate the feeling that his name felt oddly familiar.
The other male came up to the two older males, panting as he rested his hands on his bent knees. Amano turned his head to him. “What's the matter, Einosuke-kun? You seem to be in a bit of a hurry.”
Einosuke shot his head up. “You'd better get back to the village as fast as you can, Amano!” he exclaimed.
Amano blinked. “Huh? Why?” he asked, dumbfounded.
The young boy strode forward and looked at him with an exasperated expression. “Because Yukari's into labor right now!”
Hitomi's eyes opened briefly then closed up again. Yukari? Who is this Yukari? Is she his wife?
Amano's face paled. His muscles tensed upon hearing this news. He hadn't even once thought that his wife could go into labor while he was away. Suddenly his being was filled with dread. What's happening to her? How is she? Will she be alright? So many questions rumbled through his head. He held Hitomi tighter and sped through the forest, deftly ducking under braches and jumping over protruding roots. He had to be by Yukari's side!
“Amano!” the old villager Okita shouted after him. “Why didn't you leave the girl for us to carry?” he bellowed to his retreating form. The old man lowered his cupped hands from his mustached mouth and looked on with a puzzled face, followed by a still-panting Einosuke. “You could get home faster if you left her with us...” he mumbled to himself.
- - -
“Amano!”
Leaves rustled and branches snapped as Amano ran across the frequently used hunting trail back to the village. His chocolate hair streaming behind him, his eyes intent and more than a little worried. He was panting heavily, and sweat was beginning to trickle down his neck. By the way his arms were shaking, Hitomi figured that he must have been tired from carrying her all the way.
“Amano!” Hitomi screeched at him. “Amano, put me down! I can walk!”
They sped under the lush canopy of trees above. The sun was visible in the sky now, and sunlight broke into the cracks from the interlocking branches above them to reveal lovely pillars of light. The incessant buzzing and humming of insects were constantly in Hitomi's ears, only to be drowned by the rushing of wind created by her rescuer's speedy retreat home.
Hitomi bounced and jingled about from her position. As she bounced up when Amano jumped over a felled trunk, Hitomi decided that she's had it. She pulled out her thumb and pointer and did something to his arm.
“Ow!” Amano exclaimed, startled. In his apparent surprise he managed to drop Hitomi to the ground. Fortunately for her, the forest floor was carpeted by low grass, and so her fall wasn't as painful, somewhat. “What did you do that for?” he asked, rubbing the reddened spot from where Hitomi had pinched him.
“You weren't listening to me!” she winced, massaging her bottom. “I told you to put me down so my weight won't slow you down.”
Amano hesitated. “But Hitomi, what about y—”
She cut him off before he could finish it. She pointed towards the rising smoke columns in the distance. “Your village is no more than a hundred yards away,” she turned to look at him, smiling. “I'm not absolutely clueless, Amano. You need to be with your wife. I can walk from here.”
Amano looked at her, panting. For a moment he was uncertain, as if making up his mind to just carry her like before. But the stubborn girl crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him, so he finally conceded. “Alright, Hitomi,” he sighed, giving up. “Just follow this trail. The village isn't very far. Don't let people see your wings. I know, you should come to me so I can show you to the te—”
The sandy-haired female rolled her eyes and gently nudged her savior's back. “I'll be fine, you really should get going! I'll be by your house.”
“How will you know which one is ours?”
“It'll be the one with the most screaming,” she grinned.
Amano blinked for a while, then he grinned back when he understood. He straightened up and ran into the village. “Be careful, Hitomi!” he said, his voice fading away.
Hitomi smiled and shook her head. Tugging at the ends of Amano's tunic snuggly, she soon started walking herself towards the humble little village that felt very familiar to her.
- - -
The aged Father of the angels slumped forward as he leaned his weary body on the marble balustrades of the observatory's open balcony. His head was hung low; his silvery hair being tousled by the softly blowing wind. He had lived for so many years, so many thousands of years, and yet, not once did he feel that he was exhausted.
That is, until now.
He was devoid of emotion. He probed into his core only to find an echoing hollowness therein. He could not seem to feel any pain, joy, sorrow, remorse, regret, fondness... except for exhaustion.
Right now, he felt very, very tired.
The Ancient Angel looked up into the moonless sky, his wrinkle-lined eyes scanning the skies for a specific star. He had found it after a while; it was a lonely star that had drifted apart from the others to rest on the very edge of the horizon. He had narrowed his eyes, strained them to see Folken's star as it shone sedately from its lonely vantage point among the heavens. In a few dying heartbeats, the star glowed into a dull gray, and then slowly shrank into insignificance; its light fading away as it vanished forever. Somewhere not very far from Folken's star, two brightly twinkling orbs have moved closer to one another, so close that they have started spinning, spinning faster and faster until they became one. And then, after giving off a final burst of intense starlight, the united stars shuddered, collapsed, and fell from the heavens in the form of a glorious shooting star, leaving specs of stardust along its milky trail.
And in that instant, Folken, Ontrose, and Kamion, were gone. And only he, the Ancient Angel, immortal and unassailable, was left there to lament and sear the heavens with his howls of grief all alone.
- - -
He had so many memories within the walls of the citadel. Fond memories, they were. He remembered when he had first crafted Folken; with the might of hundreds onto his single arm. He had fashioned him on a stormy night; from the eternal peaks which stood majestic and proud down on earth, and he was a well-wrought creation, Folken. He had that exact air or majesty and pride in him.
The Elder walked quietly along the now empty corridors of his castle. The torches were lit and roaring, flooding the entire place with warm light. And although it never snowed in Gaea, it was cold all the same.
As if on a pilgrimage, he wandered around the grim fortress, lingering inside rooms and the libraries and the kitchens where Folken loved. The ghosts of Kamion and Ontrose seemed to accompany him through each lonely hall, and it was as if he could still hear conversations echoing through the rafters on the ceiling. He went inside his son's quarters, tidying up the room, picking up discarded garments and quills and old books he used to read. And then, when it seemed that he could no longer take anymore at all, he ended up inside the forbidden section, in front of Folken's journal.
He stared at it for a long time, just standing there before the polished table. And then, finally accepting that everything had crumbled apart, he wept, and wept, and wept.
He was alone. His sons had one by one disappeared by his side, and the family that he had cared and loved for had been reduced into this single, lonely testament sitting patiently atop the table.
He sat down, his palms pressed hard over his puffy eyes. Never had he thought he'd see the day when he'd cry over his sons. Never had he thought he'd see the day when he'd feel so lost and empty. And then, after laying a fond hand over the textured hardbound cover of the blue book, he opened it, and began reading Folken's last present for him.
A single tear trickled down his cheek. Forgive me, Folken.
- - -
“Good, Yukari! Now, just push a little more, push a little more, girl...”
Yukari pushed. She had been laboring even before the sun had peeked from the horizon, and here she was, laboring still. She had been exerting every last ounce of her strength into pushing the stubborn little life inside of her that she could even feel every drop of sweat that would bead up from her pores in slow motion. Sweaty, greasy red hair stuck from every angle of her pasty face, exacerbating her already irritable disposition. Her newly-sewn smock was now drenched with her sweat and assorted bodily fluids as she lay on the downy mattress of their shared bedroom with Amano.
“Push, Yukari, push!” the matronly midwife instructed her.
She took a deep breath, shut her eyes tight and locked her jaw as she moaned from the pain of childbirth. She already had four attendants about her—two were holding either hands while the other two wiped her forehead and fanned her—and half the whole village had camped outside their house, waiting with anticipation, but to her, the pains that she was going through was still hers and hers alone.
It was a single battle.
“One, two, breathe... push!” guided the silver-haired midwife.
Yukari felt numb all over. She believed that the pain was such that she had already begun sweating blood instead of water. Her white-knuckled grip became tighter with each push, and she had begun to bite her lower lip so hard that it had turned purple from all her pressure.
“Akemi, give Yukari something to bite into,” ordered the midwife, not looking up from her crouched position.
A young, skinny girl of about fifteen nodded alertly and shuffled towards her instructress' bag. After a few moments she had retrieved a freshly-pressed piece of white cloth. She then folded the thick wooly material twice lengthwise and then twisted it until it resembled a cut piece of rope.
Akemi approached the groaning woman. “Please, miss,” she apologized, and gently offered the white piece of cloth towards Yukari's mouth. Upon seeing it, Yukari gratefully obliged and bit into the cloth hard.
“Now push!”
Yukari's muffled screams echoed throughout the humble little village.
The old midwife kept on with a stern expression on her face. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, trickling down the groove along her nose, coyly dangling about the very tip. Akemi, her young dark-haired niece, crouched beside her and wiped her face dry with a clean towel.
She shook her head as she let out a small sigh. “It's no use,” she mumbled lowly. “She has only dilated so little; it'll be dangerous if we continue.”
“Are you going to cut her open?” Akemi asked apprehensively.
The midwife pursed her lips and nodded gravely. “If we don't, we may lose both of them.”
Akemi's face shifted from anxiety to pity. She looked at the pale-faced woman who was laboring with childbirth in front of her. She knew that she didn't have any authority, she didn't have the position to say that she understood what Yukari was going through, but somehow, she did. Yukari wanted her child to live, and that was something everyone else could relate to. At least, the two of them have one common ground; one little bond that could help the both of them to fully grasp the situation at hand.
Akemi nodded in agreement that they now have to do it “the other way”. But when she stood up to fetch her instructress' operating kit, one terribly shaking but surprisingly firm hand grasped her own.
“No,” Yukari said in a voice lower than a whisper.
She hesitated. “But, miss...”
“No,” the red-haired woman stated more firmly. “My child will come out when he knows that everything's ready,” she said weakly. “He will come out when Amano gets home.”
“Yukari, we have to get the child out now,” the midwife told her matter-of-factly.
She shook her head stubbornly. “No, Amano's still not home.”
The midwife tilted her head towards her apprentice. “Akemi, get me my bag.”
Akemi nodded and moved towards the tables but Yukari wouldn't let go of her arm. “No, you have to find my husband,” she insisted.
The midwife narrowed her eyes. “Yukari—”
“Please find my husband!” Yukari burst out begging. Tears were running freely from her tired eyes. “Please find Amano for me...”
They all stared at the two women in silence. The old midwife's face was still frozen in that stern, strict expression while Yukari pleaded at her with unyielding eyes. Finally, the matronly midwife sighed, her face softening just a touch. “Akemi, wipe her face and keep a steady check on her pulse. Yukari, keep pushing. Ease the pain using short breaths,” she instructed crisply before squatting down again.
The red-haired female nodded, closed her eyes and started gasping shallow breaths, wincing in pain. Her chest lifted and fell rapidly from all her laborious work.
“Just hold on, dear. Your husband will be home soon, and everything will be alright, you'll see...” came a soft murmur from somewhere at the end of her bed.
Yukari gave a small gasp of surprise at the gentle voice of the midwife. Her eyes snapped open for a heartbeat, and she smiled gratefully. She nodded. “Thank you,” the woman breathed, afterwards her face contorted into one of pain once more.
Anata, doko ni iru no?
- - -
Amano raced through the forest trail as if he was on fire. His feet were taking him towards the place where his mind was. His thoughts were all focused on Yukari, his wife. A thousand `what ifs' blurred across his mind. What if he doesn't get there in time? What if the midwife made a sudden, unexpected mistake? What if... what if Yukari couldn't make it?
Wishing his feet fly him home a little bit faster, Amano gulped in a deep breath and sprinted along the forest trail. His heart was hammering loudly against his chest, but not due to exertion, but because of the fears he had for his wife.
I'm coming home... I'm coming home, Yukari!
A few moments later, the welcoming gates of his hometown came into view.
“I wish I wasn't on shift today,” whined the young boy perched atop the watch tower. He was on lookout duty that afternoon, and that made him unable to witness his aunt Yukari's big moment. He had planned months before to be with her when “it” finally happened; wiping her face, fanning her face, bringing her glasses of water, that sort of thing. But here he was, craning his head until they get dislodged from his neck just to catch a glimpse of her aunt's... window. He shook his head and sighed. “It's no use,” he muttered dejectedly. He stood up and stretched his legs. Then he began kicking the bamboo tower with a sour expression on his face. “I still don't know why they insist on making me watch. It's not like someone important is going to come by, anyway!”
Five seconds later, he swallowed his own words.
He looked about below him, finding the whole street blocked by assorted townsmen and women. Scampering about the high ladder, he took everyone's attention with big, garbled hand movements. “Hey! Everyone! Move out! Move out!” he shouted, to the irritation of the merchants and their customers.
“What in blazes are you talking about, boya?” one particular elderly vendor demanded.
The boy sputtered, too choked up from his own excitement. “I said move out! Make way! Someone's coming through!”
The old man scoffed. “Oh, really? Who? The great goddess of harvest?”
“No!” the boy replied irritably. “Amano!”
And as if on cue, the father-to-be Amano came dashing from the forest and into the town, muttering excuses and apologies to any men, women and children he happened to step, nudge, push, or shove along the way.
He gave a startled oath. “S-Sorry about the oranges, grandfather Gen!” he shouted, limping as his left foot hit grandfather Gen's fruit stand. “I'll pay you back, I promise!”
“Go, go! Don't mind the oranges. Go to your wife, she needs you,” the old vendor dismissed, ducking down to grab the oranges rolling off to the sidewalk. Amano gave a short bow of thanks before speeding off towards his house on the other side of town. “It's about time you got here!” he shouted after him, cupping his hands around his mouth.
The young watch boy came up to old Gen with an orange in one hand. They both watched Amano's retreating form silently. “Told you to move out, didn't I?” he said highly, peeling the orange in his hand.
Old Gen looked at him with a smile. “Your aunt will be alright now.” He smiled tenderly, then he rapped the boy's head sharply afterwards. “You haven't paid for that orange yet. And you're supposed to be on duty!”
Yukari's sullen nephew climbed back up the lookout's tower, massaging the small lump on his head.
Amano traced the pebbled steps which led back to his little house. When he finally reached it, he found his front porch—plus a good ten meters surrounding it—to be occupied by most of his neighbors and curious onlookers, who all turned their heads in unison at the first sound of his hurried footsteps.
Amano's heart leapt to his throat. Why was everyone so silent?
Am I too late? He screamed silently at himself. Picking his way through the crowd, it was as if he was a legendary hero who had just returned home. The mass of people blocking his path suddenly parted to give way to him, the expectant father-to-be. As he passed them, they looked on silently, following his head with wide eyes. The sound of his raging blood through his ears, Amano sped his way inside, passed by the living room, turned around the corner of the dining room, and into their shared bedroom.
Five female heads lifted to meet his gaze.
But he never acknowledged them. His eyes were fixed upon the tired form of his wife. Her face was chalky, paste-white, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her lips were pale, and with an unappetizing purplish tinge to them. Her then vibrant flaming red hair was now matted, limp and greasy, and it was spilled all over the sweat-soaked downy pillow underneath her head.
He was beside her in a heartbeat. He knelt beside her, intertwined his fingers with hers and stroking her hair. Yukari gave no response. She stayed perfectly still like a fragile porcelain mannequin on display.
“Is she...?” Amano mumbled, too afraid of his own words.
The old midwife sighed heavily. “She had been laboring for ten straight hours. She's lost all her strength.” She shook her head. “I told her that I was going to have to operate on her, but she adamantly refused. She was waiting patiently for you.”
Amano gazed back at his wife, her chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. Gingerly he bent down and kissed his dear wife's cold forehead, at the same time giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Heavy eyelids fluttered slowly and settled upon Amano's worried face. Upon seeing him, Yukari's face lit up, a relieved smile and sigh escaping her lips. “Welcome home, Amano,” she greeted him warmly.
“Yukari, everything will be alright now. I'm here with you,” Amano whispered into her ear.
Shaking, Yukari's other hand got hold of Amano's and guided it to her grossly distended belly. He placed his palm firmly atop his wife's stomach, and Yukari rested hers on top of his hand. “Now our child also knows you're here,” she whispered.
Amano could feel the warmth and life pulsating through her veins.
“Now everything is complete. I am content,” she murmured, her heavy eyes closing and her face firmly fixed into that of absolute calm.
Of absolute peace.
Amano stayed with her, never leaving her side... just like the promise he had made when he vowed he would love, cherish and protect her till the end of his days.
The afternoon sun had risen high and mighty above the horizon, showering them with its welcoming warmth. Puffs of white clouds sedately rolled by along their blue highway, playing hide-and-seek with the frivolous sunbeams. The dark leaves of the ancient trees shook and swayed to the wind's music, filling the whole village with the fresh scent of damp earth, new wildflowers, and sun-ripened fruits. A little boy of about twelve was lying down with his arms crossed under his head was absently watching the fluffy white lambs skip across their vast azure pasture. “I wonder what has happened...” he mumbled to no one in particular.
The whole village had been quiet since Amano's return. What had happened to his aunt? Did he now have a cousin? He hungered for news so badly, he felt an inexplicable urge to leave his post and run down to the village.
“Don't even think about it,” a quivering voice threatened him from below.
“Aw, Old Gen,” he whined, climbing down the ladder anyway. “I just want to know how everyone's doing, that's all.”
The wrinkled old man turned to look at him through slit-like eyes. “I know, my boy... we all do. But right now, we've got no choice but to wait.”
And that was when she entered the village. Haggard face, unkempt and singed clothes and hair, Hitomi shuffled along the dirt trail, past the borders, under the arched gates, and into the merchandise-lined streets. Feeling an odd sense of calmness and familiarity within her, Hitomi never once felt that she was afraid. In fact, a small smile was tugging at her lips. There was a feeling of contentment inside her, a feeling very much like what one feels when one has first seen a rainbow, felt a cool sun shower, or has heard one's favorite song after a long time. Hitomi felt exactly like that. She felt that she was, in a sense, coming home. All the different sensations, sounds, smells and feelings bustling around her were like an ocean of memories, in which she swam into but was afraid of going in too deep. She was just merely content in knowing that she knew this place. She was just merely content in knowing that this was her past.
“Good afternoon,” Hitomi greeted politely, bowing down briefly in front of grandfather Gen's fruit stand. She treated them all to a sunny smile before walking on, quite sure but not knowing how where she was going.
Old man Gen stood rooted to his spot, mouth agape as he craned his neck following the young lady who just passed by. Yukari's nephew bounded beside him, pouting as he put his hands on his waist. “Who was that?” he demanded suspiciously. “And why was she wearing Amano's robe?”
Grandfather Gen ruffled the surprised boy's head before even more outlandish thoughts formulated within his suspicious mind. “Hey! What did you do that for, grandpa Gen?” he asked incredulously.
The old man laughed. “She's not Amano's mistress, so stop thinking of her like that,” he said.
“You know her?” he exclaimed, surprised.
Old Gen nodded. “I didn't believe that she was still alive, though... or that she would ever come back here,” he mused. He broke off from his thoughts and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
He pouted. He still didn't like the idea of another girl wearing his uncle's clothing. “Who is she?”
“Hitomi Kanzaki. She grew up here.”
- - -
There was a rainbow in the sky.
And I'm not talking about those puny, seven-speckled fragments that we usually see after a rain, I meant a full arch, from tip to tip. It wasn't everyday you get to see a fully-arched rainbow, so I guess it made this day kind of special.
Actually, I had a hand in doing that... yes, yes, I know father hates it when we toy with weather, but he wasn't around anyway and I'm feeling sort of mischievous. So there.
“Folken, good thing you're here,” murmured the rich baritone voice of someone I knew all too well. “I need your help.”
I smiled, my back still turned against him. “You usually need constant help, Van,” I replied breezily. “What is it this time?” I asked as I turned around.
My eyes widened in disbelief. I just couldn't believe shewas there.
Hitomi, Van's human. Standing meekly behind her angel. Face flushed and eyes downcast, unable to meet gaze.
And with good reason. For she could've melted with the questioning stare I was giving her.
“Don't look at her like that,” Van chided gently. “I was the one who asked her to come with me.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “What are you doing here?” I asked her flatly, deadly calm.
Van motioned to speak but his human tugged at his arm. Giving him a pleading look, he sighed and stepped aside. Eyes downcast, fingers toying with the hem of her blouse and with the same flushed expression, she hesitantly took a few steps forwards. “Um, Folken,” she began.
“SirFolken,” I corrected testily.
Van gave me a dirty look. I didn't care. I was bigger, stronger, and nastier than he was. Not that I'd really hurt him, but at least it threw his human off balance.
“S-Sir Folken,” she apologized, her cheeks turning into a lovely shade of deep pink. She kept bowing her head for apology. I didn't know whether to chuckle, laugh or guffaw, but years of constant training told me to frown. She really did look cute, though.
Her blush deepened with my scowl. I kept trying to hide my twitching lips. Van must've seen the mirth in my eyes because he snarled at me and would have shredded me to pieces with his bare teeth. “Folken, you're scaringher!”
“Well if she gets past me, she could get past every angel in Gaea.” That was half-true. No one—and I mean no one—would dare confront her once she's gained my approval, lest they want to have a taste of The Folken-Glare. I'm not so sure about father, though. I didn't know what his stand on these turn of events was; I never really asked him. I guess it would be a bad idea to go up to him and say, “Hey, father! I just wanted to know how you'd feel if Van took his human here in Gaea, because guess what? That's exactlywhat he's doing right now!” No, bad idea.
“I came here because... because I wanted to see paradise...” she mumbled.
I narrowed my eyes. “'Because I wanted to see paradise'. Did you know that you coming here has gotten Van into serioustrouble than you can imagine? He has broken one of the highest codes of Gaea! And for what? Just so you could seeparadise.” I glared at her then, see if it had my desired effect.
No, it didn't. “Y-You didn't let me finish,” she said politely. “I wanted to see paradise because...” a shade of crimson crept up her neck. “...because I wanted to be a part of the world Van was in.”
I fell silent. Go on.
“I needed a release, a sanctuary. I didn't want to be in a place where those I loved despised me. Van said he could show me that such a place exists, if only I'd let him.”
“I couldn't stand the beatings anymore,” Van mumbled hotly. I happened to glance at Hitomi's wrists, and there were bruises and ligature marks there; signs that she have been tied up. Reflexively, she hesitated, and she hid her hands behind her back. “You told me that I couldn't interfere with her mother, so I interfered with her instead.”
Now Vanreceived the full benefit of The Folken-Glare. Damn it, now he's making it sound as if all of this is myfault. He grinned in his reply. That boy knew far too much.
“I know what we did was pretty stupid, not to mention dangerous,” the honey-haired human spoke again. “I know that I've put Van into considerable danger, but it's not only him who's taking risks.” She glanced at me—a brave move. “I'm also putting myself into mortal danger, not to mention eternal damnation, but...” This time, she lifted her head, and looked at me full in the face for the first time. A small, almost imperceptible gasp escaped my lips. “That is a risk that I am willing to take,” she stated with conviction.
“And that is also a destiny I am willing to accept,” Van echoed in.
I was speechless. I have never seen such fierce eyes. Granted, they were sad-looking eyes, but the spirit that dwelled within those fathomless orbs was so strong it could have bawled a hundred angels. Never had I met any mortal or immortal with that kind of purity, that unyielding trust. The way she looked at my brother... it was as if she had surrendered to him completely; as if he had swallowed her whole and she accepted with wide arms. And Van was just as bad as she was. The way he looked at her, it was as if his soul, his entire core, his purest essence had been wrenched from his flesh and melded into Hitomi's. It was as if she was the air he breathed, the water and blood that was coursing through his veins. It was as if their lives weren't themselves anymore; but a part of an entirely bigger being in which they both shared. And looking at the both of them, I no longer saw an angel and a human; I no longer see two different individuals.
There was only one.
Is this what's called... love?
Van managed to tear his gaze away from her mesmerizing jade eyes and looked at me expectantly; his brewing depths imploring mine for an answer. After a few agonizing moments of edgy silence, I shook my head and sighed. “It's getting late. You'd better let her rest, Van, she might be tired.” Great. I had not only let her inside Gaea, I also gave her the keys to the master's bedroom.
But Van had looked so happythat it made me want to scream and cry and run a sword through myself in frustration. He had embraced his Hitomi, kissing her hair and jumping like a child who had been given sweets. I watched the both of them with a sad smile on my face. Sure, they look happy now, but what when father finds out? Will I be able to bear seeing my brother hurt and broken in spirit? Hitomi had no place in paradise, not as long as she is in that frail body. There will come a time when the two of them would eventually be torn apart from one another. And then what? Van said it was a destiny he was willing to accept. But what about me? Was I willing to accept the destiny that was slowly unfolding before my very eyes?
There were two choices laid out in front of me on that day. Heaven help me that I chose the right one.
- - -
A young girl of about fifteen was seated in an easy chair at the living room of the Susumu residence at that time. A glass of cold water was sweating droplets in her hand, but her grip remained as secure as ever. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she passed a cotton towel on her forehead, wiping the sweat that had formed. She brought the glass to her lips to take another sip when another girl—quite a few years older than her—appeared at the doorstep.
They locked eyes. Large orbs of burnt chocolate entrapping vibrant green ones.
“—sically all she needs is a lot of bed rest. Healthy meals, lots of greens... she'll be fine.” The aged lady with the thinning hair told him as they went out of the bedroom. Amano listened to her intently, his face very serious with his lips pursed and brows knotted that he didn't notice the new presence in the room.
The old midwife swung her head towards the doorway, where the slender girl with torn clothes and singed hair stood meekly. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Looks like you've got company, Amano.”
The said man looked in the same direction and a pleased smile graced his features. “I'm glad you made it through by your own. I hope you didn't encounter any problems.” The girl in question shook her head, her sunshine hair spilling around her head. He motioned for her to come in. “Please, sit yourself.”
And she did. As she took her first few steps into Amano's neat household, the lovely dark eyes of the young girl followed her, never leaving her form.
The midwife gathered her things about her and huffed. “Well, we'd better be going,” she patted the man on his back. “Congratulations, Amano.”
Amino smiled and nodded in gratitude as she passed him on her way out. Stopping by her niece, she deposited a couple of her bags to her and beckoned for her to follow.
She hesitated. “Aren't you... Hit—”
“Let's go, Akemi,” her aunt said blandly, cutting her off. “Let's not disturb Amano and his guest.”
And with that, the elder lady went out the doors, with the young Akemi in tow. But before she went out herself, the dark-haired girl stopped, turned around and faced Hitomi.
“I don't know if you still remember me,” she said. “But I'm very glad that you're well, Hitomi-oneechan,” she smiled. “I always believed that you would come back, someday... I never lost hope.”
Dumbfounded, Hitomi could only blink in reply when Akemi smiled and bowed before she left.
After a few moments of blessed silence, Amano spoke. “Would you like to take a rest?”
Hitomi smiled up to him and politely shook her head. “But... I'd like to see your baby, Amano, if that's alright.”
He hesitated, his eyes darting everywhere. “The room might be a mess, Hitomi.”
Her smile then widened. “I don't mind, really. It's the baby I've come to see, not the room.”
Amano eventually gave in, and he showed Hitomi the way towards the bedroom where Yukari and the baby were. “Yukari might be sleeping,” Amano said softly, watching Hitomi's reaction very carefully.
Hitomi nodded and opened the door.
Surprisingly, the two of them found Yukari to be completely awake, rocking the sleeping baby in her arms.
A wide, cheerful smile spilled across her face, Hitomi approached the mother and child. “You must be Yukari,” she greeted. “Congratulations!” She looked at the baby and held out her hand. “May I?”
Yukari blinked and looked at her husband, surprise very much evident in her face. “Um, sure...” she mumbled, handing the blanket-wrapped bundle to the sunshine-haired female.
Hitomi took one look at the delicate child in her hands and she beamed. “Oh, she's beautiful!” she gushed, cradling the baby tenderly. And indeed, she was. A short crop of red hair just like her mother's, and a strong brown-eyed gaze from his father. She has her mother's chin and her father's nose, and, so far, she had a sunny disposition. Hitomi couldn't help but fall in love with the adorable little creature.
Swaying the sleeping baby to some unknown music, she spoke. “What are you going to call her?”
Amano smiled. “We have already decided on the names long ago. Tenchi if it was a boy, Megumi if it was a girl.”
Hitomi stopped for a while, a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. “Megumi... `a blessing',” she murmured.
The auburn-haired man nodded. “She certainly is a blessing to us,” he smiled.
Yukari was still looking at the gently swaying Hitomi with that confused, surprised expression. “Um... you're Hitomi, right?” she asked tentatively, very carefully.
Hitomi, who was now humming to the drowsy child, opened her eyes. “Hmm? Oh, yes,” she answered absentmindedly.
Her answer only made Yukari even more confused, and she turned to her husband for support. But Amano, who also didn't know that much about what was happening, could do nothing but stare back.
Finally content in her chance snuggling with the baby, Hitomi approached the bed and carefully reached out to hand back Megumi. But as Yukari's hand reached forth, her soft fingers brushed Hitomi's arm, sending jolts of electricity within her as memories long lost came flooding back.
She could see them. All of them. They were all just little kids, all so carefree. She would sneak outside her mother's hut while she was sleeping, to where Amano waited patiently outside her window.
They would run towards the river, by the foot of the mountain. There they would spend the whole day molesting fish and chasing dragonflies. Amano, who could hold his breath underwater longer, would dive into the river and emerge with a handful of iridescent shells, while Hitomi, who was smaller and more agile, would climb up the trees and picked fruit and leaves and curiously-shaped twigs.
It was by the same river that a promise had been made; a pinky-promise of two innocent children of not leaving one another forever, of being together until the end of their days.
Hitomi's eyes misted. She finally understood. She finally remembered. Her back throbbed. Blood was oozing out of her wings, where a fresh new piece was forming and attaching itself. Her shoulders shook and she instinctively burrowed her face in her hands, tears spilling out uncontrollably.
Suddenly it made perfect sense. Her and Amano. Amano and Allen. And then, her and Allen.
Without knowing why, or, more importantly, how, Yukari and Amano realized that Hitomi just remembered who they were, and how possibly scandalous their situation was.
Hitomi had been engaged to Amano. They were supposed to be married when she was sixteen, with her best friend Yukari Uchida as her maiden of honor. Hitomi was Amano's first love, and he hers, and they had promised to each other that they would always be together forever. A promise made by two innocent children on the night fireflies outnumbered the diamonds in the sky.
Hitomi looked at the sleeping child in Yukari's arms and wept anew, her chest filling with a sense of overwhelming loss. It should have been mine.
Yukari, feeling very much ashamed and guilty, sank deeper into the downy mattress of their bed. “I had always watched,” she mumbled so softly, it was almost like a whisper.
Hitomi continued sobbing silently but made signs that she was listening. Yukari went on. “I wasn't allowed by the doctors to go outside, unless the sun gets too strong and I get a heatstroke. I would always look out this window... and I had always watched.”
She gulped slowly, speaking very carefully. “Before, Amano was my only friend. He and the holy priestess would come visit me everyday. He would play with me, make me laugh; make me temporarily forget about the pain in my chest when I cough, or how dizzy I get from laughing too hard. I didn't care. Those were the happiest days of my life.
“But when you came, Amano visited me less and less frequently. I would gaze outside my window and see him with a strange girl with wheat-colored hair. I felt angry at myself for being too weak. I knew I was jealous. I was jealous of this girl with Amano; I was jealous of them having fun, while my whole life I was trapped within the four corners of this bed.
“When Amano couldn't visit you, he'd come to me instead. But I was still happy, thinking that we'd play and be like what we were before. But when he gets here all he ever wants to do is to talk about this amazing girl, Hitomi. He'd tell me all sorts of things, like how nice she is, or how funny she is, or how brave she is... it made me feel so insecure, not being able to prove myself to him that, I could be those things! I could be just like her! It made me hate myself even more. If only I wasn't born with this accursed body! If only I wasn't always so sick!
“And then one night, two kids broke into my room through the window and shook me awake. I was so surprised! It was Amano and Hitomi, grinning at me, pulling me up, and shushing me while they helped me climb back down. I was exhausted, my heart felt like it was about to drop to the floor, but I was thrilled at the same time. I have never been exhilarated in my entire life. It felt like my very own adventure. I asked them where they were taking me, and they said it was a surprise.
“They took me to the river, and I was completely shocked... the whole river was like sparkling liquid gold! I have never seen so many fireflies in my entire life. It was so precious. It was so beautiful...
“And then, Amano whispered something into my ear—” she broke of into a tearful sob and wept. “—he told me, that it was you, Hitomi, who had planned on sneaking me out. It was you who kept pestering Amano to smuggle me out of my horrible prison. I cried then. I felt so ashamed for thinking such bad things about the one person who set me free.
“And that's when I decided. I decided that I would live my life not only for Amano, but for Hitomi as well. I decided that I'd be her shadow... a shadow that would always be there for her, to repay her kindness.
“And so when Amano told me the news, I gladly accepted to be the maid-of-honor on your wedding—” she said it with so much sincerity, but in her eyes a faint glimmer of sadness sparkled. “It was an honor to attend the wedding of my two best friends...
“But then you... you suddenly disappeared, Hitomi, and I...” she whispered, trailing off while her eyes clouded with tears.
Hitomi wept new tears, burrowing her face into her hands even deeper. After a few minutes of dignified crying, she straightened herself and approached Yukari's bed with a steely expression, stopping a few inches before the edge.
“I knew it wasn't my place to take him... I waited for years after he proposed... I kept thinking that I shouldn't since I know how you felt about him and the promise he made,” she sniffed. “But... but I thought you were dead, Hitomi, and so I thought... I thought it would be alright for me to marry Amano, even though I knew it's not my place...”
Hitomi still didn't say anything. She just listened with her calm façade.
Yukari wrung her hands nervously. “If... if you want me to leave him, Hitomi, I would do it, you know I would...” she muttered insistently to her, a firm look on her face, but her eyes were pleading, shaking in fear.
Nobody moved or even spoke for the longest time. The soft humming of insects were the only sounds that could be heard in the distance.
“Since when?” Hitomi asked softly all of a sudden.
Amano and Yukari looked at her.
Hitomi lifted her face and gazed at Yukari, her eyes unreadable. “Since when have you loved Amano?”
Yukari wanted in her heart to avert her gaze, but found out that she could not. Her lower lip trembled as two tears fell from melancholy and empty eyes. “Ever since the first day I saw him outside my window,” she whispered.
Hitomi didn't reply, but pursed her lips.
“I didn't mean to hurt you, Hitomi, I—”
“You mean,” Hitomi said softly, cutting off Yukari's words. “You mean... I'm now an auntie?”
Yukari's lip trembled, her cheeks gracing a telltale blush. With a wail of emotions mixed with joy, relief and undying gratitude, she caught Hitomi into a one-handed embrace, while the honey-haired girl snaked her arms around her old friend's neck, weeping openly. It was then Yukari felt for the first time the thing that was bulging from Hitomi's back. It came as no surprise to her that she felt the feathers on her wings, for right now, Hitomi was very much like an angel who came from the very heavens to ease all their suffering.
And Amano stood there, eyes a multitude of emotions as he watched with wonder what just transpired. He now knew that he was so blessed to have all these loved ones—all the women in his life.
- - -
I stared at the confines of our shared quarters with my brother. “What are you doing here, Van?” I asked with a sigh.
A slight jolt coursed through his body. Slowly, the surprised and flushed caramel-skinned angel turned around to face me. “Uh, Folken!” he greeted nervously.
“Yes, thank you for reminding me of my name.” I approached him, eyes looking for clues. Van was clutching something—a piece of pheasant-colored cloth stained with what looked like... blood? “What is that?” I asked irritably.
I edged closer to where he stood—by the corner beside the double-bunk beds. As I approached the dimly-lit room, the shadows lifted and the whole bed came into view. Wide, luminous verdant orbs were like beacons of light in that darkness. “Hito—!” I turned to Van. “Van, what's the meaning of this!”
Van didn't answer; he averted his eyes from my questioning gaze and a deeper blush crept up his neck. The muscles on his bare chest tightened as he clutched at the bloodstained material tighter.
I was lost. I was dumbfounded. I-I-I was hyperventilating. I was shocked. I mean... heavens, it's a boy and a girl alone in the dark! ”Why can't you answer me?” I bellowed, snatching the material from Van's hand. “What is this?”
After spreading the cloth, I realized it was a loose-necked common blouse—Hitomi's blouse. The backside of the piece of clothing was torn to shreds, and there were bloodstains on it.
I gave Van a meaningful look. “The whole story, Van. Unabridged version, don't spare any details,” I said calmly, dangerously.
He gave me a sidelong glance, and then he sighed. He retrieved a tinderbox from his desk and lit a candle that was on top of it. The ruddy glow of the candle chased away the shadows to reveal a slender girl sitting atop Van's bed.
I looked at her in shock.
Van held out his hand and she took it as she inched her way towards the edge of the top bunk. When she had dangled her legs over the bed, Van held her middle and lifted her easily off the bed, placing her carefully down the floor.
I was still in shock.
She was wearing one of Van's old shirts—those red ones with the cut-up sleeves, they were his favorite. They had been too small for him a long time ago but it fit Hitomi suitably now. But what made those shirts so wonderful to wear was that they had slits on the back.
Slits where her wings now peeked through.
“Van!” I roared, anger bubbling inside of me. I got hold of his shoulders and gripped tight. Had he been wearing a shirt with a collar, I would have grabbed it and shook some answers out of him.
He didn't answer me. He didn't look at me. Damn it, he didn't do anything
I turned my attention to his human—nono, his angel. “You're going to have to leave,” I told her flatly.
She looked up at me—amazing hue of green. “Don't misunderstand me, Hitomi,” I explained a little bit softer. “I am only looking out for Van's sake. If Father finds out about this, he'd surely kill you, and then what?”
She stood there silently, quaking in every feather. After what seemed like an eternity, she answered. “I understand.”
“I will come with you,” Van declared automatically, his hand finding hers. I closed my eyes as I heard his voice. This is what I've feared for so long.
Now do you see it too, father?
I nodded. “I'll fetch you a cloak.”
As I fumbled through my closets, the door of our room creaked open and the light from outside flooded in. “Lord Van, there are some things the registry needs with...”
I gasped inaudibly. He stood there, mouth agape. Hitomi was clutching Van's arm.
The world slowly dissolved before my very eyes. It was at that particular moment it dawned so clearly upon me.
I had made the wrong choice.
- - -
Amano made breakfast for them, although no word of command or acceptance was spoken. It just came to him naturally like breathing or blinking; it was a mutual understanding between the three of them that morning. What transpired last night—the rekindling of Hitomi's memories—was something very magical, it had made an impact to all of them, and so he bothered not to disturb the ladies with their bonding.
Neither of them uttered any other word after those said events. Hitomi and Yukari seemed totally content in merely sitting close together while admiring the baby. Their faces held that look of absolute peace and calm, of absolute contentment.
Amano had called them softly to the table, and the girls went out after setting the dozing Megumi back on her crib. Yukari had her hand cupped with Hitomi's, and they had those warm smiles on their faces all throughout their meal. Occasionally one woman would get misty-eyed; temporarily letting go of the other's hand to dab her eyes with the hem of their kerchiefs. It was all very emotional, even though everyone was trying their best to control their emotions. Amano could feel his heart soaring. Here he was, thinking about his outlook on his life a few years before—when he had taken Yukari for his wife two years after Hitomi's disappearance. He had received the reproachful eyes of the village, resulting in their almost exiled status. And Yukari had it in worse; she was denounced by every person in the village as a whore, a backbiting bitch, that men would spit at her feet and women would hide their children away from her.
The years have mellowed out the village's displeasure, and all was normal again after Yukari had announced that she was with child. But the shame and guilt that continued to ebb within them would not wash away, especially for his wife. There were times when Amano would accidentally catch her weeping over the sink, or having that haunted, melancholy eyes as she stared off in the distance. Amano would feel a sharp pang of a knife being thrust into his chest with each time, and he could do nothing. Nothing but to continue living their life together which he believed was doomed right from the start.
But here she was, the girl from his past which has come back to set him free. Hitomi sat across him on the dining table, smiling happily and rubbing her shoulder against Yukari. He had never thought that he and his wife would someday be finally set free, but then again, he never thought Hitomi would come back from the dead, either.
Amano sighed deeply. He had so many things to be thankful for.
Yukari decided to be playful and burrowed her fingers inside Hitomi's exposed wings. Hitomi giggled childishly and flapped them away, but Yukari insisted on tickling her ticklish new appendage. The women had spent the morning bathing each other, with Yukari brushing the dried blood and dirt from Hitomi's wings. Together they emerged from the baths cleansed—in every aspect of the word—and smelling of rosewater. And then, as if on a ritual, the two then proceeded in bathing Megumi afterwards.
And then, a mild, sweet odor filled the room. It was the smell of a forest after a sun shower, like the scent of candles and mint. Hitomi turned around in her chair to the direction of the lulling fragrance, and that was when she saw her.
Amano and Yukari stood up, bowing in respect. “Holy priestess,” Amano greeted.
Hitomi looked at Amano then back at the priestess. She studied the slender woman standing at the door. She was quite tall, and had that nurturing aura about her albeit her slender built. She was wearing a plain white robe and pleated red skirt, the hems of which reached down to her ankles, showing a pair of clean white socks and ordinary wooden sandals. The priestess had creamy pale skin—almost chalk white. And her hair which was like waves softly flowing down to her waist were of the same curious color—white that shone blue where the light never touched.
But what struck Hitomi the most other than her otherworldly appearance were her eyes—or lack thereof. The priestess was wearing a strip of white cloth over her eyes. And, although the sun had not fully risen and they were indoors, her one pale hand was cupped above her brow, shading her face from the mellow morning sunshine.
She smiled. “Before anything else, I want to congratulate the both of you for your blessing.”
Yukari bowed in gratitude. “Thank you, priestess.”
The priestess inclined her head slightly. “Please, let us not choke over the formalities. You may call me by my name.”
Amano smiled. “If you wish, Sora.”
Hitomi blinked. Something about that name had clinched something inside her head.
The blindfolded priestess Sora stretched out her arm to the winged Hitomi, and when she spoke, it was in a strangely choral voice that made Hitomi want to weep and laugh and scream at the same time. “Girl of Destiny, are you ready to come to me?” she asked.
Hitomi blinked in confusion and looked at Amano for help.
“She was the one who told me where to find you, to save you,” he explained. “I was wondering why she didn't come see you yesterday. I guess she was giving us a few moments alone together.”
Sora nodded before speaking in that choral voice again. “It is crucial for the Girl of Destiny to face her past.” She leveled her face with Hitomi's. “And now it has come for you to finish it.”
- - -
The Ancient Angel sighed deeply, the folds and creases on his face becoming clearer. He had firmly set Folken's journal on the table, his hand resting upon its hard intricate cover for a moment. In a minute he took a deep breath and passed a weary hand over his eyes. He hadn't realized how tired he was.
Tired. Perhaps the years have finally caught up with him.
Standing up, he straightened himself, and the chair, and the table. Lastly he took the blue journal and proceeded to placing it back to the back shelf, but he hesitated. He changed his mind. He kept it instead, tucking the heavy volume under one arm as he finally pulled the door shut. He glanced at the discarded lock and chains on the floor and dismissed the idea—there was no point in keeping this room inviolate now.
As he passed the high-arched windows of the bleak hallway leading to his chambers, the Ancient Angel stopped and looked absently at the floor. Something about the reality of what the journal said unto him gnawed at his conscience.
It was Folken. He had been banished for helping Van and Hitomi escape that day. And yet Folken did that out of his love for Van, for Gaea.
And he banished him. For what? For loving his family.
His eyes misted over, and he turned to face the ocean of stars twinkling sedately above him. “I'm sorry, Folken,” he murmured. “If only I had listened to you right from the start.”
He sighed, and his eyes skimmed over the thousands of diamonds in that nighttime sky. And then, his gaze fell upon a single star that was blazing intensely in the middle of the heavens. A star so bright, it could drown out the other lights in its brilliance.
It was Hitomi's star.
And that was when he decided. He would do what he felt what would be best for them. He would do what needed to be done.
What my son Folken would have wanted to be done.
And so, as the Elder firmly shut the tall ornate doors of his bedroom, his decision has also been firmly made.
Yes, he would meet the human girl Hitomi, and he would then wash his hands of anything that destiny will set into motion.
- - -
Hitomi lifted her gaze and scanned the ancient yet distinguished-looking structure looming above her. The façade of the temple—as with most of the village—was made from dense dark wood, which was a lovely contrast to the bright red paint on its roof and massive gate pillars. Tall and wide slats which served as windows among the upper floors were closed against the bright afternoon light, which to Hitomi seemed very unusual since she could see other priestesses ambling about.
“Girl of Destiny,” Sora said, snapping Hitomi's head and attention back down with her. She looked at the woman who had just called her—she assumed right from the start that it was her Sora was talking about—with that vast choral voice. The blindfolded priestess had turned back to face her, her lips into a gentle smile, assuring the sandy-haired female that she needed not to hurry. Sora held out a hand, though, and out of politeness rather than anything, Hitomi felt the pressure to continue their walk.
The inside of the temple was a complete contrast to the world outside. How all those devout men and women moved along in that unbelievable obscene dimness came as a mystery to her. They all must have gotten used to it, I guess, Hitomi's brain racked. Heavy magenta curtains diffused whatever sunlight broke through the wide slats, and the gauzy veil of candle smoke that hung above them seemed to darken the temple halls even more.
Hitomi was constantly looking about. There were a number of priestesses walking sedately this way and that, but paid little or no attention to them, except maybe to bow and pay their respects to their blindfolded priestess. Then they would go along on their way, walking slowly but with purpose. If there were people who saw Hitomi's wings—and there were, of that she was sure—they apparently did not mind at all.
Sora somehow sensed Hitomi's discomfort and her pale hand reflexively reached forth and touched the girl's cheek. Hitomi gasped softly at the gesture. No one had touched her with so much love before. “I apologize for the darkness, Hitomi,” she said softly, the choral voice surprisingly completely gone. “I could have them open a few windows, if you'd like.”
The honey-haired girl faced the priestess and opened her mouth to reply, but found out soon enough that no words would come out. Her eyes simply fixed themselves unto Sora's, and she had finally noticed that the priestess had taken off her blindfold. Hitomi stared, quite taken aback if not mesmerized by the sheer force of those orbs. Sora's unseeing eyes were oddly colorless, but the depth and otherworldly brightness contained within them were eternal.
“Hitomi?” Sora asked, inclining her head in worry.
The said girl blinked to sever the hypnotizing connection of her eyes. She smiled and shook her head. “It's not necessary, Sora,” she said simply.
Satisfied, the blind priestess took Hitomi's hand once again and led her through the endless succession of dark hallways.
Hitomi had just fully realized just how much the whole temple—the whole village—depended of this tall, unusual woman. The thought came upon her now as she viewed the temple in another light. Tall doorways, wide smooth floors, fixed grooves on the walls for hand support—even the extreme lighting conditions everyone must have endured and simply gotten used to—were all for the benefit and aid of Sora.
So, who exactly is she?
They had finally stopped in front of an ordinary-looking sliding door situated on the top floor, near the ceremonial chambers downstairs. Sora led her inside to where Hitomi believed was her room, which on close inspection was only a small space with a floor mattress, a small chair and table, and a simple dresser. Hitomi disapproved of the fact that this bare room was the living quarters of a priestess so highly revered, but she prudently kept her opinions to herself. She did not know if these people have religious objections against luxury.
As Hitomi let her eyes wander—there wasn't very much to look at—Sora slid the door firmly shut behind her. As the winged female turned to face her and to ask her questions as to why she was taken there, Hitomi was quite surprised when all of a sudden, the pale-haired priestess flung her arms around her and locked themselves in a tight embrace.
She was shaking. “Oh, Hitomi,” Sora murmured. “Look at you now! I have been so worried about you.”
Hitomi blinked, off-balance. “What are you saying?” she then noticed then that the priestess was now weeping softly. “Oh! Sora—Sora, are you alright? What's wrong?” Hitomi asked worriedly.
Gingerly, Sora disentangled her arms from Hitomi, wiping away the tears with the back of her finger. “I am just so happy to see you again.”
“See me?” Hitomi squeaked. “But how is that possible when you're b—” she stopped abruptly, her mind finally catching up with her runaway mouth.
“Blind?” Sora finished for her, smiling a bit. Hitomi felt her cheeks get warm. The most perfect way to embarrass herself was to point out the obvious that everybody else would step around carefully upon. To her surprise and further bafflement, though, Sora laughed—a cleansing, easy laugh. “You only say I'm blind because I cannot see the world around me,” she smiled, touching Hitomi's arm fondly. “But I do see. I see some things that are far greater than this world. And that is the reason God made me without eyes. I can see the things other people could not. That is why He took them; to give me a better pair instead.”
Sora led her to a low chair while Hitomi was still mulling over what Sora had just said. Merle and the twins have said something similar to her. To look with the eyes other than human ones. Is that what she was talking about? Did Sora and the cat-people have the same ability?
“You've grown,” the blind woman noted, and Hitomi just realized that she had sat herself on the mattress on the floor. Somehow the question seemed more profound to her than the physicality it was intended for.
The blonde girl fidgeted in her seat. “Um, Sora,” she began, grasping for straws. “Why exactly am I here?”
Sora smiled briefly. “Hitomi, you of all people should know that.”
Hitomi gave her a baffled look, which felt absurd seeing as how the blind priestess would never see it.
“Hitomi, what is it you seek?” the pale woman asked softly.
She thought it over for a split-second. “I seek the truth... and paradise,” she added.
The priestess made a wry face. “Why do you speak of them differently? Are they not the same thing?”
Hitomi could not place if the question was rhetoric, or a statement to mock, but nevertheless, she could not answer the question.
The priestess Sora stood up from the floor and smoothed the front of her skirt. “Not all who seek the truth can attain it,” she said, walking towards the curtained window. “Only those who are purified can find the truth they seek.”
Hitomi listened quietly to her melodious voice, watching her every movement. From where Sora stood, the light and shadows which danced upon her features gave her an almost otherworldly appearance. The priestess then turned to face her fully. “Hitomi, do you wish to be cleansed?”
Unsure of what was going to happen next, Hitomi answered slowly. “Yes.”
For a few moments, Sora stood there gazing at her with unseeing eyes. Then, her hands gently made their way to Hitomi's cheeks, cupping her face.
She smiled so tenderly, it almost made Hitomi's heart break. “Hitomi... a very fitting name,” she murmured.
The honey-haired female blinked.
“Do you not remember it? I was the one who named you. Hitomi. Eyes.” A look of overpowering sadness flitted across her face. “Such beautiful eyes. It's a pity your mother never saw how beautiful they are.”
She blinked again. “My mother?” she echoed.
Slowly, Sora took back her hands, letting them fall to her sides. She stood up straight and faced the window. “Did you not know? Your mother did not want you, Hitomi, she did not even want you to be born.”
Upon hearing those words, Hitomi felt a stabbing pain deep inside her chest. It was very much different from all the kinds of physical pain she had experienced. This one was sharper, stronger; it cuts deep into the soul.
She lowered her head and clasped her hands atop her knees. “I see,” she mumbled blandly, though deep inside she was ready to burst.
Sora went on. “She would leave you here at the temple everyday after you were born, not even bothering to check up on you. When we finally convinced her that is was her duty to take care of you, she reluctantly took you back, but ended up beating you over and over again.”
A flash of pain. That would explain the nightmares. A little girl crying. Blood spatters on palms. Bruises on the corner of the mouth. Broken vases and shattered glass. A long, battered wooden rod with a twisted handle...
Both were very silent for a long while. Sora just stared out at her unseen universe sadly while Hitomi kept trying to forget that her mother, her own flesh and blood, did not want her.
Of course, trying to forget only forced her to remember it more.
Finally trusting herself to respond, the sandy-haired girl opened her mouth to speak. “Why?” she croaked.
Waves of bluish-white hair danced as Sora turned and faced her. She was looking at Hitomi with so much sadness. But she knew this was going to happen someday. It has to happen. Hitomi has to know of her past.
She knelt in front of her and firmly placed her hands atop Hitomi's. And then, she told her in the gentlest way imaginable. “You were a rape child, Hitomi.”
- - -
It was dark. Young Chiaki made her way through the labyrinthine forest trails. She had gone up to the mountains picking the flowers to be used on her wedding the next day, gotten lost of the time and came down when the sun was about to set.
Chiaki brushed a strand of deep brown hair, tucking it behind an ear. Her eyes were trained to the ground, where a carpet of richly colorful earthy leaves lay crunching beneath her feet. They were the color of her hair—the color of autumn. A shiver went through her and she pulled the shawl about her shoulders a bit more snuggly; it reminded her that winter was fast approaching.
She took her steps slowly, carefully. She knew these trails; she would not get lost. But there could be a number of rocks twigs strewn about, and she didn't fancy tripping down and breaking her nose. If her eyesight granted her a clearer vision, she could have walked in a statelier pace, but the result of working as a weaver denied her that.
Suddenly her body went rigid. She had heard a twig snap somewhere. But she did not feel anything under her feet. Resisting the urge to turn around and look, she just clutched her basket tighter and went on.
Snap. There it goes again! Chiaki stopped abruptly, her heart thundering. In a span of minutes, the forest she had spent her whole life in seemed so alien now.
Snap, crunch. This time, she was sure; she wasn't even moving. Panic rising in her throat, Chiaki ran dead on into the night, uttering a silent prayer that she be safe.
And then she felt the wind rushing past her.
She was face flat on the hard forest floor. She didn't break her nose, but great God, she was scared senseless.
Two rough hands grabbed her shoulders and forcefully turned her around, pinning her on her back. Just as when she was about to scream, his hand clamped down hard over her mouth, almost choking her. She could feel him kneeling over her. Then she began to thrash about, kicking and screaming muffled cries for help.
And that was when a sharp, stinging pain shot across her cheek as he had slapped her hard with the back of his hand.
Her mind went totally blank. Her body stiffened, rigid and motionless against his obscene advances. Her mind was now as dark as the forest around her.
She felt him rip her robes open, the cool night air touching her damp skin. She felt his rough hands rake her naked body, kneading her flesh, its warmth not comforting, but scalding to the soul.
In her mind she was somewhere else. In her mind, she was not experiencing this horrendous thing that was happening to her. She was picturing her wedding day. How perfect everything looked. Everyone looked so happy, so expectant and jubilant at this union of two hearts, the mending of two souls. She saw herself, all dressed up in that beautiful ceremonial dress that was made white in color, the color of purity, the purity that she did not have. As she continued imagining herself, she felt him ease himself between her legs.
She could feel him breathing raggedly against her neck, her breasts. He had torn away her clothes. She could feel the cold nakedness that she had been preserving, saving as the ultimate gift to her husband-to-be.
Hiroto. She thought of Hiroto.
She felt her eyes cloud with tears. What was she going to tell him? What is he going to do now? Tomorrow was their wedding day, supposedly the happiest day in her life. But why now? Why this? Is this some sort of cruel joke?
She felt his body press against hers. She could feel him forcing his way through her; stubbornly seeking entrance... the pain was unbearable. She felt her flesh torn apart, a searing sensation coursing through her body, and into her soul.
He had won. He had his way with her, over and over again. She felt like a whore for staying rigidly still, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing she could feel. He ran his mouth and tongue all over her, his sickening scent clinging to every part of her body. He would bite her savagely in some places that her soft skin burst and bled. But she was numb, so numb... as numb as a corpse. So very fitting. In some aspects, she was very much like a corpse, dead in all senses, devoid of anything particularly resembling life.
The beautiful leaves underneath her crushed and broke apart into a million fragments. The wind blew past and the scent of autumn filled her nostrils. A shiver ran through her body; it reminded her that winter was fast approaching.
In one instant, her entire future, her entire life, everything, has been shattered.
Chiaki lay motionless on the ground, defiled and defeated, body bleeding and bruised, aching all over the place. For several minutes she laid there, eyes staring blankly at the fathomless darkness above her. She was still breathing, yes, but she was not alive, not anymore. From that night onward, Chiaki considered herself dead.
And then finally, when all was lost and the whole world became still and quiet once more, she cried. It wasn't those sniffling, petty little girl cries, but the kind that comes from deep within, inside your core. It was the kind of powerful sob that sucks you in and spits you out whole, leaving nothing intact. It was the kind that leaves you exhausted, leaving you empty and hollow, as if you were just a mere shell of someone who had finally released their soul free.
Her fingers clutched the frayed edges of the discarded shawl, and in the midst of her wracking sobs, she managed to utter a small cry to the heavens.
Kami-sama, watashi o mimamottenasai.
Watashi no kokoro o iyasu kudasai.
Tsuyosa o watashi ni kureru.
Kami-sama, watashi o mimamottenasai.
Watashi no kokoro o iyasu kudasai.
Tsuyosa o watashi ni kureru.
Kami-sama, watashi o mimamottenasai...
- - -
Hitomi sat quietly, her head bowed down low, hands still clasped on top of her knees while Sora told her how they found her mother on her wedding day, wide-eyed and speechless, deep in shock, wrapped only with a shawl.
The honey-haired girl gulped. “And I... I was the child born of that incident?”
The priestess turned to her and nodded. “Yes.”
Her eyes clouded. Drops of salty water began to fall one by one, wetting her skirt. She still could not believe that she was just a product of rape; an unplanned incident. An unwanted child. A mistake in destiny. A cosmic anomaly.
That she was just a ghost entity.
Finally breaking apart, she wailed. Her whole body slackened and shook as she burrowed her face in her hands, her useless sobs echoing against the bare walls of the blind woman's room.
Sora rushed to her and knelt down, her arms encircling her with their comfort. Hitomi clung to her, sobbing her heart out. Sora—solid, dependable Sora—rocked her back and forth like a child, stroking her hair and murmuring words in her ear.
“Don't cry, Hitomi, don't cry,” she murmured coaxingly. “Can't you see? You were a God-given gift. Your mother could not see past what you are, but I could, Hitomi, I could. You were a gift. You were born special.”
Hitomi's head shot up, jade eyes flashed with anger. “You say I was a gift. Then why was it that my mother hated me?” she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Sora, ever patient, gathered her in her arms again, cradling the winged girl's head onto her neck. “Your mother... she hated you because you looked like the man who sired you.”
Hitomi's body stopped shaking; it stiffened instead.
“Your mother hated your sandy hair, and your emerald eyes,” she explained. “Especially your eyes. She used to say that every time she looked at you, she would be reminded of the green-eyed devil who raped her.”
Hitomi didn't speak.
Sora stroked her hair. “That was why she would always hurt you... it reminded her of your father.”
Her father. Her father was a rapist.
“So,” she hiccupped. “So she disowned me?”
The blind priestess nodded gently. “After a few years, her husband, Hiroto, finally accepted her again, but would not accept you. After your baby brother was born, they fled from here, and was never seen or heard from again.” She sighed deeply. “But that wasn't the only reason...” she murmured.
Hitomi blinked, then stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Sora slowly disentangled her embrace, her hands ending up cupped under Hitomi's cheeks. Her thumb gently brushed the wet trails of her tears away. “She was afraid of these eyes,” she said after a moment of silence.
“Afraid?”
She nodded and smiled, her colorless eyes very soft. After a few moments, she spoke again. “When you were just a baby, you used to coo and smile, even though you were all alone, as if someone was playing with you. And when you grew up a few years later, you always insisted that you could see an angel among the trees.”
Hitomi's verdant eyes widened.
“You would tell stories to your mother,” Sora went on. “You said that you saw an island floating high above the ocean. You said that a mermaid befriended you and taught you how to swim. You said that a winged boy would come and play with you at the river.”
The sandy-haired girl was shocked at the discovery of her childhood. And then, as realization finally dawned upon her, she looked sharply at the calm priestess.
Sora nodded in understanding, smiling slightly. “Now do you understand why I named you Hitomi? It's your eyes. They have the special ability to see what other people could not with their eyes. You could see Gaea floating above the sky; you could see angels, just as I could see you now with your wings.” Hitomi's eyes grew large at this. “We are the same thing.”
Hitomi stared at her. “B-But Amano and Yukari could also see my wings!” she exclaimed, her heart pounding.
Sora stood up, facing the window once again. She stood still for a while; eyes closed and face serene, as if her mind was wandering to someplace far. When she opened her hypnotizing eyes to speak, there were a thousand or so musical voices joining her own. “It was your fate to be,” she said obscurely.
“My fate?” Hitomi echoed. “My fate to be what?”
“To be what you are. Neither mortal nor immortal. Neither human nor angel. To be everything and nothing.”
The winged girl listened silently.
“You are an angel, though you are mortal. You are a human, though you have wings. You are an unstable entity hovering between heaven and earth; a mistake that was made on purpose to inflict the imbalance upon the soul and the flesh,” Sora chanted as she walked towards her, and Hitomi heard the ethereal song which led her through the caves growing louder and louder. “And that is why you seek the truth, for you must seek the truth. You were born to correct the imbalance, Girl of Destiny, and you were given a very special power, and a very important task.”
“And what is that?” the girl asked apprehensively.
Sora laid a hand unto Hitomi's head, and her wings suddenly came ablaze with an intense white light as memories flooded her mind. She could feel her awareness being tapped open; her childhood, her emotions, reawakening so fast, they sped through her like a blur.
“The task to choose,” the mysterious woman said softly, the choral voice suddenly gone, though the song remained. “You have the power to start the destiny of one future, or to end the fate of the other. You are the bridge between mortality and immortality, Hitomi, and you carry a big burden with you.”
Hitomi's eyes began to water. “Sora, I don't understand any of this,” she whimpered.
“You will choose, Hitomi,” Sora said encouragingly, her hand touching Hitomi's cheek. “A choice shall present itself upon you when it is right, and you will choose. There will be two destinies presented to you, and you will decide which one to end, and which one to begin.”
Hitomi was crying openly now. “I-I can't do it, Sora...” she sobbed helplessly. “I can't do it, I just can't... why does it have to be me?”
The pale-skinned priestess embraced her impulsively, the love between them so strong, it was beyond blood links. “Everything happens for a reason, Hitomi... everything has a purpose.” It was then that she felt the warm lump resting just below Hitomi's collarbone. She let go of the embrace, her fingers tugging at the silver chain around Hitomi's neck until the bright crimson stone appeared and winked at her.
The priestess smiled at the pendant. “It is seeking its master,” she said cryptically. “Never lose it, Hitomi... it will lead you home.”
Puzzled at what she said, Hitomi was about to ask her about it when Sora suddenly threw the curtains and windows open. The minute the orange glow filled the room, the sad ethereal song gently playing in the background swelled to a shout. Sora stood before her, her back facing the window, smiling at her.
The sandy-haired female opened her mouth to speak, but now the pendant grew increasingly hot as it, too, began glowing with a soft pink light. Hitomi glanced outside the window and saw the island in her childhood hovering above the horizon, just about Sora's head.
The paradise they call Gaea.
Suffused in ruddy orange light, Sora nodded, smiling warmly. “Now that you have been cleansed of your past, you can now continue with the present to face the future.” She gestured towards the tall open window. “Go now, while the sun has not retired to rest.”
Tears were flowing uncontrollably from Hitomi's eyes as she unfolded her wings, grand and sparkling with the sunset light, as if she was on fire. The wind blew inside Sora's quarters, carrying away with it a few of Hitomi's feathers. She smiled sadly. “It was you who taught me that song, Sora...”
Win dein a lotica
En val tu ri
Si lo ta
Fin dein a loluca
En dragu a sei lain
Vi fa-ru les shutai am
En riga-lint...
Sora smiled. “It was your favorite lullaby.”
Win chent a lotica
En val turi
Silota
Fin dein a loluca
Si katigura neuver
Floreria for chesti
Si entina...
Hitomi wailed, clinging to the only mother she'd known in all her life. “Come with me, Aunt Sora! I'll fly us together to paradise!” she whispered insistently on her chest.
She smiled, eyes twinkling. “You remember,” she said, pleased. She carefully disentangled Hitomi's embrace. She shook her head, running her fingers through the girl's blonde hair. “Just because it's up there, doesn't mean that it's paradise. Just because you have wings, doesn't mean that you are an angel.”
Before she could speak any further, Sora gently shoved Hitomi outside her window. Hitomi, flapping her wings and steadying herself awkwardly at first, hovered indecisively in front of her. “I can't do it, Aunt Sora, I can't leave you. I can't leave my home.”
“You must, Hitomi. Can't you hear it singing? The sky is calling to you, Hitomi, you must answer it.”
Lalalalalalalalala...
Fontina Blu Cent
Des cravi esca letisimo
Lalalalalalalalala...
De quantian
La finde reve
Hitomi hovered for a while, fluttering her lovely pristine wings. She would glance up and see Gaea floating temptingly above. Finally, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand and smiled a sad smile to the blind priestess. “You never did like it when I called you mother,” she muttered simply.
Sora smiled. The whole world seemed to reel at the love she had shown with that single smile. “I will miss you, Hitomi.”
Hitomi had to look away, forcing the tears not to fall. “Always look up. I promise one day, our eyes will meet again.” Swiftly, before she changed her mind, she turned her back to her and pumped her wings, the warm air currents carrying her higher and higher until she was no more but a trail of sparkling teardrops falling one by one from the heavens.
Sora stood by her window, her ageless face raised high into the setting sun. The ruddy disappearing light from the skies filled her blind eyes like a blazing fire would, but it was nothing compared to the brilliance Hitomi was carrying with her. In her hand she held a feather, which caught the glow of the sun. It sparkled with orange light, as if it was on fire. The wind came in and rushed past her, the faint scent of Hitomi lingering on everywhere the wind touched. As it came rushing out of her open window, it carried with it the single feather, up and up as it rode the rising columns of air, up into the heavens until it was no more.
Win dain a lotica
En vai tu ri
Si lo ta
Fin dein a loluca
En dragu a sei lain
Vi fa-ru les shutai am
En riga-lint...

Tsuzuku
“I know what we did was pretty stupid, not to mention dangerous,” the honey-haired human spoke again. “I know that I've put Van into considerable danger, but it's not only him who's taking risks.” She glanced at me—a brave move. “I'm also putting myself into mortal danger, not to mention eternal damnation, but...” This time, she lifted her head, and looked at me full in the face for the first time. A small, almost imperceptible gasp escaped my lips. “That is a risk that I am willing to take,” she stated with conviction.
“And that is also a destiny I am willing to accept,” Van echoed in.

Footnotes:
1)Sora is the title of the lyrics of the song that was constantly referred to in the last few chapters. It is also the name of Sora, the blindfolded priestess, who was the one who originally sang the song. Sora means Sky in Japanese, so the title could be interpreted in two ways; either as the song the priestess Sora was singing which guided Hitomi through her ordeal, or the song the sky was singing which beckoned her to fly to Gaea.
2) Anata means you in Japanese, and it is also the term of endearment wives use to call their husbands. Anata, doko ni iru no? means Darling, where are you?
3) Boya means Boy in Japanese.
4) Tenchi means Heaven and Earth; Megumi meansBlessing.
5) Chiaki meansA thousand autumns.
6) Here's the translation of Chiaki's prayer:
God, please watch over me.
Please heal my spirit.
Give me strength.
Arguably, this is the longest chapter yet. I hoped you guys weren't bored. We're very close to the end now, the tension is building! Hang in there!
Sadame X
Defy your destiny.