Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Stars ❯ Part I ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: This was written on a fic challenge from Rai Dorian. Thanks for the inspiration. This is a two-part story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne.

It was cold. And dark. So dark that though the stars made a relentless effort to shine from their frigid homes in the sky, they could just barely make themselves seen. Stars. They weren't quite right, he noticed as he gazed up. A cold wind brushed across his skin, tickling the sweat that covered his body and causing him to shiver. This wasn't Gaea, he realized with cold clarity. Only one moon hung in the sky.

He couldn't remember how he had come here. He'd been in the midst of something important, but now it seemed to have slipped his mind. He looked around, eyes searching for some hint of reason, or, at least, of familiarity. A large, paved circle was placed in what would otherwise have been an open field. Behind him was a massive, brick building, which was rather plain. A few dim lights were attached to the building, but rather than illuminate the area, they only served to deepen the shadows. He found himself fearing those shadows, but he wasn't sure why.

The place was strange, but not wholly unfamiliar. He had been here before, he knew, though it had been a long, long time ago. This was the place he had met her. The memory came back to him clearly now. A skinny girl with short, cropped hair. He hadn't even been sure she was a girl. She'd been so loud, crying and berating him over the silliest things. And there had been the strange people around her, babbling on in some non-sensible language.

This time was quite different, however. There was no crying girl, no strange people he couldn't understand. There was no one. The field was completely empty.

He returned his gaze to the sky, searching the stars for some direction, some placement of where he was. There was a flash of light, outshining the pale and twinkling dots. It shot across the darkened landscape, shooting with reckless abandon as if desperately running away, or towards something. He watched it go, streaking the sky with a trail of stardust.

He decided to follow it. Any direction was better than no direction at this point. He began to walk, at first taking long strides in the hope of covering the distance faster, but then slowing when it seemed this journey had no end in sight. The neatly paved streets were devoid of human life, of any life, it seemed. Not a cricket chirped nor a cat meowed. Even the wind seemed unnaturally quiet. The buildings he passed were narrow and tall, much like the dwellings in his own country, but here, numerous wires crisscrossed above, creating a sort of mesh canopy overhead. The street seemed busy and crowded with all these wires and strange objects crammed here and there, even despite the lack of people.

His feet abruptly stopped, as if deciding they had finally finished their journey, and he looked up, eyes heavy and tired as they settled upon the strange building before him.

It was a temple, of that much, he was certain. A large wooden gate marked the entrance, rising high above him. Beyond lay a stone path, the trees barely peaking out from the sides as if to insist they still had their place.

Wind chimes broke the stillness of the night, their gentle ringing the only sound he had heard in some time. He wasn't sure how long or far he'd walked. He felt that he'd walked miles and that several hours must have passed, but the moon held its same place and he knew that the endless night and strange silence had probably made the journey seem longer than it really had been. But he was tired. However long the journey had been, it had taken its toll. He crossed through the gate, ignoring the shiver that ran through his body. The chill of the night air had long since entered his bones.

Strength seemed to drain from his muscles as he moved, each step becoming heavier as he walked on. The main temple lay beyond, beckoning to him, its stone steps offering a welcome haven. But it seemed so far and his body threatened to leave him stranded on the path. He couldn't remember ever having felt so tired or so cold. Determinedly, he forced his feet to move, until, with slow, shaking steps, he finally ascended the stairs and collapsed against one of the columns. His eyes drifted shut as he breathed the night air heavily. His body screamed for rest, and even as he tried to adjust, it refused to obey him. He finally gave in, letting his weight sit against the column as he wrapped his arms tightly about himself to keep out the cold.

The chimes were ringing gently in the night breeze. Their tiny bells became a melody, lulling his mind to quiet repose. He was not usually given to musical appreciation, but he enjoyed their rhythmless song. Cold but gentle hands brushed his skin. He accepted their caress without question, only opening his eyes when the weariness had finally begun to leave his bones.

There was only darkness before him. Long and unending darkness. His mind grew quickly alert and he brushed at his face. There was nothing that he could see, no one around and yet he could still feel the chill lingering upon his flesh. He stared into the darkness, eyes wide, until two blazing eyes glared back at him. He froze, fear clutching at his heart, and found himself unable to move, even to look away. More eyes appeared, glowing in the darkness, surrounding him, suffocating him. Invisible hands pulled at his skin, at his hair, dragging him down. He could feel their-its-breath upon him, hot, wet, far too close for comfort, tickling his skin and washing over his face.

"Van," the voice whispered in his ear. He imagined it mocking him, tormenting him with his inability to defend himself. "Van," it repeated insistently. "Van!" And with that last syllable, the paralysis suddenly lifted and he let one heavy hand fly, gaining momentary satisfaction when it connected with a soft, fleshy body, feeling it bow before his superior strength. But it was a woman's voice that called out, high, full of surprise, and painfully familiar.

The girl rose slowly, pushing herself up from the stone floor as she tried to straighten her clothes. She turned her face to him, her gaze falling upon his form in a mixture of shock and bewilderment.

"It is you," she breathed, her lips trembling so that the words came out mumbled. "Van?" she questioned when he didn't move.

He couldn't move. He was frozen, in as much shock as she and his mind was far too preoccupied with trying to determine if she was real to be bothered with speech. It was a long moment before he answered her question with a word of his own. "Hitomi." It made her real, that single word. And he clutched tightly to the reality now before him.

"Van, why-how are you here? Why are you here? What's going on?" Her questions came tumbling from her mouth without thought.

"Hitomi," he repeated, rising quickly and encircling her in his arms. He rested his head on her shoulder, burying his face in the soft fabric of her coat. She stiffened at the sudden contact, blushing at the closeness and becoming suddenly unsure and awkward.

"Va-Van," she stammered, "we can't stay here."

It was then that he looked up, and, for the first time, took in the layout of the place in the revealing light of day. He was suddenly struck by how strange and foreign it was to him-the tiny shops and characters he couldn't read, the strangely dressed people passing by, and the sharp, incessant noises that seemed to surround them. He clutched tighter to her.

She helped him rise, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. "Van . . . you can let me go now." He did so reluctantly, letting one hand remain attached to her arm for support. They were attracting a lot of attention, he realized. Passersby were stopping to stare at the young couple. Was it so strange for them to be together? "Van!" He looked down at the girl beside him, puzzled for a moment by worry in her face. "Are you alright?"

"Alright?" he repeated in confusion. He followed her gaze down to his clothing, where dark brownish-red spots had stained his clothing and the light armour he wore.

"Are you injured?"

"No," he said quietly, thinking for a moment on where that blood had come from. "No, I'm not. It's not mine." She seemed relieved, if not wholly convinced. "We should go," he reminded her.

She gripped his arm tightly, pulling him along behind her as they made their way quickly out of the temple grounds. He was struck by how much stronger she was than he remembered, how much more sure of herself. He had recognized her instantly, but, in fact, this was not the same Hitomi he had known. It's been a long time, he realized.

The temple did not seem typical, he noticed as they walked by. "Hitomi . . . where are we?"

She slowed for a moment to look back at him. "Senkaguji Temple." She noticed him looking over the gravestones. "Those are the samurai graves."

"How did you find me here?"

She walked slower, relaxing her grip on his arm. "I was just here for a visit. I had no idea you'd be here."

They didn't speak much after that on the way. He wasn't sure if it was because she simply had nothing to say to him or because she didn't want to speak to him. His presence seemed to be an intrusion on her. She led him on a strange journey through the city, on crowded transportation, where they were so tightly crammed together he could barely breathe, and yet, even then she said nothing. She didn't speak a word to him until they arrived at the tiny apartment she called home.

It seemed cramped, like most other things in this place, though it was clean and sparsely decorated. He sat in the middle of the floor-it seemed as good a place as any-and slowly began to peel away the layers of armour and clothing. Hitomi brought him a damp cloth and he wiped away the blood and dirt that stuck to his skin. He looked as though he'd been in a battle, but his body showed no hint of damage. It was strange, but as it was not something to be lamented, he quickly forgot it.

"Van Fanel. Lover of war," Hitomi commented dryly, when he dropped the blood stained rag on the floor beside him.

"No, I'm not," he protested. "I didn't-I don't ever want to see a war again. I've had enough for one lifetime."

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "That was a bad joke."

"You live here?" he asked her, changing the subject. "Alone?" he added, when he noticed the absence of any other person in the place.

Hitomi nodded with a smile. "About a year now. It gets a bit lonely, but I'm glad I have my own space."

He sat there and stared at her for a long moment. She didn't blush at his bare chest, didn't turn away from his gaze. The Hitomi he remembered would have. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Eight years. I'd almost forgotten . . . I mean, not really forgotten, it's just . . . it all seemed like a dream. I never saw you again, I didn't think I ever would, and I started to think, maybe I never had, maybe I just made it all up. Like a child who's too attached to her imaginary friend."

He reached out a hand, sliding it along the side of her face. "Not a dream. I've never forgotten."

She blushed and looked away. He smiled mischievously. That was the Hitomi he remembered. "How is everyone?" she asked suddenly. "Merle? And Allen? Fanelia must be rebuilt by now. I'm sure it's lovely."

"Fanelia-" he began and suddenly stopped short. Something had happened in Fanelia, something important. The thought nagged at his mind. "Fanelia . . . everyone . . . is well," he finished slowly. There was no need to concern her, certainly not with something he couldn't even remember. "There's peace now. Zaibach was stripped of her armies and her military weapons destroyed. There will never be another war." Zaibach. It had been something about Zaibach, he thought.But what was there to fear? They had ensured that Zaibach would never again be able to raise an army. The country was still scrambling to pull itself together after the devastation the war had wrought.

He stood suddenly, shakily, and Hitomi instantly went to support him. "Van, you don't look well. Maybe you should lie down." He was about to protest, but found his head spinning, and decided that rest would probably be beneficial. He nodded and let her lead him to her bedroom where she helped him lay down on the small bed. He almost laughed when he found his feet hanging over the end. Small indeed.

"You've grown up," Hitomi smiled. "I don't remember you being this tall."

"So have you," he returned. "I don't remember you being so . . . " His eyes settled just below her neck and he stopped short. He chuckled and turned away. "Nevermind."

She leaned over him, brushing away the strands of dark, unruly hair from his face. "Van . . . why are you here?"

The question caught him off guard. It was obvious, wasn't it? He felt slightly offended that she didn't know. "I wanted to see you."

"But how did you get here?"

"I don't know," he replied thoughtfully. "I just wanted to see you."

She puzzled over his answer for a moment, before shaking the thought from her mind. She rose from his side, when she suddenly felt a tug on her shirt.

"Stay."

"You're supposed to be resting," she reminded him.

"I can rest with you here. Stay," he repeated.

She sighed, finally detaching her clothes from his grip and moved over to a reading chair in the corner. "I'll stay. But you have to rest."

He grinned and shut his eyes tightly. Hitomi rolled her eyes, leaning back in the chair and watching as he lay quietly on her bed. She was happy to see him. She had wanted to for so long, she couldn't be anything but happy to see him. But she couldn't shake that strange feeling of dread that something wasn't quite right.