Right, so...this is a supernatural AU two-shot...featuring my usual characters. Man, oh man...when am I ever going to get that next chapter of Close Enough edited?
To Solve a Paradox
Izumi's first day at school was more eventful than most.
Of course, from the perspective of most six year olds, suddenly being thrown into a class of strangers to stay with for hours was already memorable enough. Well, it was for the frustrated parents if not the children themselves.
But usually, the children came back at the end of the day no worse for the wear.
Usually.
As it turned out, Izumi's protests were probably well justified.
It's been said that children can be unintentionally cruel. For Izumi, that was all too true. A thick rope of pretty blond curls that went all the way down to her waist became a sign of weakness, of something different. But name-calling wasn't even the worst of it, because one of the older boys – another first grader – took hold of her hair and dumped a tub of black paint on it.
And Izumi began to cry.
Not because it hurt, or because it was embarrassing, but because the dark splotch wouldn't wash out and she would have to explain to her mother what had happened. And her mother would make an enormous fuss. And fusses meant heated talking and yelling and all sorts of very unpleasant things.
But those things never happened, because the next day the boy's shoelace got stuck in an air vent and tripped him just as he was about to go down a flight of stairs. For a precarious moment the shoe wrenched him back; he hung, and then – fell. The hospital discovered a compound fracture in his right leg and two broken ribs. Izumi's mother harrumphed and said that he deserved it.
It wasn't worth the effort to try to change her mind.
At any point, the woman decided that the school was too rough for the little girl and promptly took her back home.
Izumi left with her willingly.
And returned to her quiet life, safely ensconced away in her room, only seeing her mother when they had brief lessons and the rest of the family on those rare occasions when she decided to attend dinner.
Her brother and sister, unnerved by the sight of a silent sister holding up toys and asking to play with them, started to avoid her. It was never obvious, but her parents couldn't have done much about it anyway because one left for college and the other for boarding school, never to come back for a visit.
The house was completely empty. Empty except for one blond girl, knocking on doors and asking if there was anyone there.
Izumi was lonely.
She wanted someone to stay home with her.
So much.
Only a few days later, her mother became seriously ill and could no longer work. The house was still too big for the two of them, but it was better than before…and Izumi tried her best to be a good girl. After all, her wish was granted.
She was fine.
Weeks passed. Months. Years.
When Izumi was sixteen, a new family moved in next door.
She suddenly became very curious about them when she found out. In fact, it was the first time she had given any extensive thought to the world around her. The interest wasn't particularly memorable by anyone else's standards, but her parents had been shocked.
Even though they shouldn't have been.
Her books, after years of reading and rereading, were no longer interesting. The blond teenager wanted something more. It was only natural.
Natural for anyone but her, that is.
If it had been left up to the two adults, her sudden desire to leave the safety of home would have never come up. But her parents were little more than strangers to their reclusive daughter, so their opinions about the matter didn't exactly cross her mind.
But even Izumi realized that there was something strange about the people who moved next door. No one ever came out of the house. On the surface, it was everything normal and ordinary, with neatly trimmed bushes and a newly whitewashed fence, except that there wasn't even a hint of life stirring from its depths. Not even smoke from the kitchen or the sound of showering, even though she watched from her window every single day. Occasionally, a truck would come to drop something off, and the deliveryman would leave an enormous pallet of packages. By morning they would disappear, taken away under cover of darkness.
It happened again today.
Izumi looked down from her windowsill, uncertainly. She hadn't gone outside in years, and her fair skin was nearly translucent in the sun. It was tempting to stay inside. It was just as tempting to go out and see her new neighbors for herself.
She didn't ask permission from her parents. Nowadays, she didn't ask very much from them at all, actually. Books, lessons, food, and lodging. Outside of those four things, her contact with other human beings was absolutely nil.
But Izumi was restless. More and more, she felt like her home was becoming a cage in which nothing new happened and nothing new would ever happen.
Whatever the reason, she just wanted to see something different. Four walls could only keep a person in for so long. Was that really so much to ask?
Was that really so much to want?
Was that really all that she wanted?
But no, it was time to stop thinking, or she would never stop. An aching feeling settled on her bones and she winced. Too much time spent in a single room had weakened her body and she didn't even know how many steps she could take before succumbing to exhaustion. As she tried to crawl out of the window, she collapsed into a heap on the grass and whimpered slightly in pain.
The itch of the plants against her skin was unfamiliar and unbearable, so she dashed as quickly as she could to the nearest hard surface.
The patio on her neighbor's lawn.
When she got there, she was shaking with exertion after running for the first time in nearly ten years. Izumi barely had the time to think about where she was before she glanced into the house through the back window – and saw eyes staring right back at her.
They floated in midair, surrounded by deep shadows. The skin right next to the eyes was deathly pale and faded into the dark background. Black pupils stared at her through the clear glass pane with its delicate netting, and slowly inched forward.
Izumi was barely breathing. The thin porous fabric was dark and shielded most details of the other person's face, but she could feel the intensity of his or her stare.
Tentatively, she reached out a hand.
A sharp crash from inside the house suddenly had her jerking her head up. When she looked back down, the face wasn't there anymore.
Silent with shock, and reeling from the half-meeting, Izumi slid down to her knees. The side patio felt rough and hard under her feet, and she bit her lip. It was obviously a leftover from building the house, an extra layer of hard rock that was unsuitable for actually seating anyone.
The rough texture scraped against her bare feet and palms, and Izumi was very careful when she stood up again.
Now what?
She had come out of hiding to meet…whoever it was living in that house.
And she had seen him. Or her. Or one of them, if there was more.
Did just seeing someone count as a meeting?
Izumi didn't know. But there was the distinct edge of dissatisfaction in her chest, and she bit her lip. Now that she knew for sure that someone was in the house next door, what could she do?
Perhaps she should meet them again. But that would require yet another repeat of today: sneaking out and standing awkwardly on the edge of their house, hoping for some sign of the same person to show up. And Izumi wasn't comfortable enough in the outside world to do that.
But she was too curious to let it be.
As she carefully retreated back into her bedroom, she kept the view of the house in her peripheral vision. The windows were all dark, but Izumi thought she saw the faintest glimpse of a person's shadow moving on the textured glass…
The four walls of her room suddenly felt much more stifling than they had ever been before. Sliding awkwardly through the small gap, she suddenly stumbled forward onto the soft carpet. Izumi lay there for a few tired moments, almost longing for the sensation of itchy grass and hard cement. Absolute exhaustion took over, and she whimpered quietly. It looked like she wasn't going to get anything done tonight, so she dragged herself up and fell onto the bed.
Without moving from that very comfortable position, Izumi tried to reach her covers. The tip of her pinky managed to touch the blanket's edge, but without a good grip, the effort proved impossible. She groaned, and gave up. Sleep was more important.
When she woke up again, it was afternoon on the next day. The blinds were left open from the day before. The sun's rays lit up the room in bright streaks, and Izumi winced. The fact that she had slept the entire day away didn't bother her as much as it should have.
She slid out and stumbled into the adjacent bathroom. Long stringy hair dangled in front of her eyes, and she sighed. Pulling her fingers through the mass impatiently, she started to scramble for her brush for a while before giving up. Instead, Izumi walked to the standing shower on the other side of the room.
Her clothes were left in a rumpled trail behind her.
When she came out again, Izumi nearly tripped on the piles of fabric. With her towel clutched around her middle, she backed away and slumped against the wall. Groaning quietly with dizziness, she dragged her feet back into the room and into her closet.
The door was already open, so she stepped inside and looked dispassionately over her wardrobe. There wasn't a lot of variety – her clothing was mostly black and white, modestly cut. On a whim, Izumi pushed past all the monochromatic shirts and jackets to find a certain mint green sundress that she hadn't worn for years.
She slipped it on with some difficulty and stretched her left arm to reach the zipper. Her fingers pulled at the metal bit until it was about two inches from her collar, and then it got stuck. Groaning, she left it there. It took too much energy bothering about little things like that.
Everything else was put on with similar carelessness.
Usually, getting ready didn't take this long, considering that the only people who saw Izumi were her parents (sometimes) and Izumi herself. And she wasn't exactly vain.
It certainly helped that her only mirror was in the bathroom and only fifteen minutes were spent there on an average day. Her face was just…there. It existed. Like with most things, she couldn't bring herself to care much about her appearance.
She tried to pull on her sock while standing on one leg, but her balance wasn't cooperating today. After nearly falling twice, she flounced over to the bed to sit down and do it properly.
A heavy book left lying on the floor made Izumi's ankle twist when she stepped on it.
Yelping in surprise, Izumi fell over the hard binding and rolled over the wooden edge of her bed. The sharp corner jabbed her calf hard and she stumbled back over the other side of the bed, cursing weakly. The pain was sharp, but not unbearable. A stain of red was left on her carpet when she pushed herself up again, and she quickly checked over her body.
A long, jagged cut ran down her leg, and she winced. The smear of blood made it appear worse than it actually was, though, and after running to the sink to wet a spare towel, the liquid began to thin out and roll down her leg.
Quickly, so that the viscous trickle wouldn't reach her sock, Izumi covered the broken skin with the cloth and watched the red color soak through.
There was a faint ache due to the pressure of her hands, but other than that, it felt completely normal. The bleeding was a problem, though. She wouldn't be able to go anywhere for a while.
Frustrated, Izumi dropped her head back against her thick comforter and sighed. After all the effort spent getting up today, it looked like she wouldn't be able to satisfy her curiosity.
At least, not directly.
But Izumi was incredibly optimistic, probably because no one ever taught her to be otherwise, so she simply dropped into her chair and pulled a few blank sheets of paper from the desk.
And then she sat there, stumped.
What on earth could she write?
The paper stayed perfectly clean and blank, and Izumi groaned, letting her hand scratch out randomly over its surface.
Hello
Should she put a comma after the greeting? She chewed her lip indecisively, then left it the way it was.
My name is…
That sounded kind of boring. Not that Izumi could really say what was boring when she lived most of her life under a rock. Almost literally. She scratched it out.
I'm your next-door neighbor.
But so were her parents. It was kind of dishonest to imply that she was alone.
I'm one of your next-door neighbors.
No, it sounded like there were many of them. What about…
I live in the house next door.
There! A good start.
As if in agreement, the rest of the note flowed smoothly down the rumpled page. Izumi reached the very bottom, then turned it over to keep going. At some point, she didn't even know what she was writing down, only that she was and that it was getting very long. It was like her hand took over and filled the letter with everything she had ever known, without her consent.
Losing control was both frightening and wonderful. Eventually, the sound of a scratching pen slowed to a stop. About halfway down the sheet, the line of ink trailed into unintelligible drops, and Izumi looked down at the page blankly.
Eventually, she shook off the feeling of strangeness and started planning the next move.
A note wouldn't be a note if it was never read, after all.
And she had an idea. A very strange, very possible idea. And if it worked out, it would be easy to get what she wanted.
So, exactly one week after she opened the door to the world, Izumi found herself nervously clutching a rumpled sheet of paper. The sky overhead was a filmy gray color, so cloudy that the entire atmosphere looked like one thick sheet of felt. As a byproduct of her sheltered life, she had to think for a long time before realizing that most people would take potentially bad weather as an omen. She filed away the miscellaneous observation without trying to analyze it, and waited.
By now, the delivery truck's patterns were obvious. The mysterious packages came once a week for three weeks, then every day for half a month. Approximately. And today, if her guess was right, she would have her chance.
And Izumi was right. Seeing the stiff pile of wood and paper and string made her lose the nerves that she didn't even know she had. Emboldened, she slid her fingers under a taut string and tucked the note underneath, letting it snap back into place securely. And then she turned around on a random whim. Facing the front door, she suddenly reeled back when a nauseous smell hit her nose. It faded when she backed away, but the unpleasantness wasn't enough to deter her curiosity.
She was almost touching the door with her nose. Up close, she could tell that the black shine on the door wasn't normal. It looked like a sheet of paper slathered liberally with motor oil. Now she could identify the source of the smell: a wet coat of paint.
But when did that happen? How?
To her knowledge, the house was as still and silent and secret as always, holding its inhabitants inside like a magnificent prison. Since the first 'meeting' Izumi kept her window open all the time, waiting eagerly for some sign of activity. And whenever she was not doing work – which was very often – she was watching. Not that there was much to watch.
A coffin nail would make more commotion than the house next door.
For the first time since her vigil began, Izumi felt frustrated. Her decision to avoid face-to-face confrontations took away a lot of options. And her neighbor wasn't exactly cooperating with her fanatical information hunt.
The blond girl stared at her feet. Recently she had been taking many short walks around her room, trying to get her body used to the exercise. Her progress was still frustratingly slow, but soon…
She would be able to walk around. Just like everybody else. It was a nice thought.
Izumi kicked her legs out quickly, realizing that she was still sitting in the middle of a stranger's porch. A flush of embarrassment ran up her neck, and she dusted her skirt off quickly before marching away.
When she slipped into her room the same way as before, balancing on the windowpane, she suddenly lost her balance and fell inside. The glass pane slammed down after her, and she spent a long time eyeing the cold, lifeless surface.
When she slipped into her desk, back to the window, it felt like someone had perched just outside, watching her.
Trigonometry and derivatives ran down the page, but bounced off the cloudy daydream in her head. Izumi started humming for no reason in particular, almost forgetting why she was still working this late in the day. She couldn't concentrate, which was fairly unusual by itself, but was even stranger in conjunction with the rest of her symptoms.
Sleep was difficult, too. As the days grew ever longer, her attention span grew ever shorter, except when she thought of her little quest of curiosity. On that subject and that subject alone, she was completely focused, ready to spend as much time as possible doing what she needed to do to find out more.
Even so, Izumi was getting impatient. The books in her drawer were too thoroughly read to warrant even the briefest of glances, so she began to write another letter, in hopes that some random word or sentence would encourage the silence next door to reveal all of its secrets. Her strict attention to the calendar – measuring and calculating all of the predicted delivery days – kept her organized. When the sky was overcast and the position of the sun was impossible to see, every clock in the room would be moved at least a dozen times so that she could keep track of the time.
But even with all that, she wasn't obsessed. Not really. Obsession would mean that she was unnecessarily fixed on figuring the mystery out.
It was more accurate to say that she was obsessed with obsession. In love with love.
And she would stop at nothing to find out more.
Logically, she knew that it would have to end someday. There was a limit to how long she could keep chasing a shadow and hope to keep up. But for the moment, she was satisfied.
She wrote a great deal of that into her next letter. And on the next delivery day, she quietly stole out to send it. This time, Izumi's nerves were completely steady, mostly because of her experience. She did it once before. She could do it again.
It had gotten colder. The sky was dark, with soft misty clouds scattered over the horizon. The air tasted like rain, and she shivered.
The truck was moving now, rumbling silently down the street. The package had been dropped off, as always, by shadowy figures and nameless faces. She held her breath, trying to get a new angle on the visitors, but they were thickly wrapped in solid black suits. How they could see through the face masks, she didn't know, but they obviously did.
The vehicle started rolling down the street, and it wasn't until it had completely vanished into the thick mist that Izumi stepped out onto the street.
She went up to the front door cautiously. Her bare feet made a soft patting sound that echoed against the silent walls. Izumi made it all the way to the pallet before she realized, to her chagrin, that there was no string tied around the packages today. A pool of irrational panic gathered in her gut.
As soon as Izumi felt it, though, she concentrated on holding her breath for as long as she could. That distracted her long enough for the alarm to subside.
No string meant that she would just have to find another way to attach her note. She started looking through the boxes for a hole or flap of some kind that would tie the sheet of paper down, but found none. Refusing to give up, Izumi then turned to the front door. Her jaw dropped.
It was open.
In all of her days of watching, she had never seen any sign of life in the house.
This didn't necessarily tell her anything – but she was never one to let an opportunity slip by. Letter completely forgotten in her hands, Izumi cautiously crept around the doorway and into an unlit hallway. It was dark, but not as dark as she had expected. Apparently the light from the hallway window was enough to keep the shadow at bay, though not very much. Apart from the dim outlines of the white plaster walls, there wasn't anything else that might get in the way of walking – which was mostly how she viewed furniture.
On the right side, she found a light switch, but flipping it did absolutely nothing. Not a completely unexpected result.
Normally her instincts would tell her to run away as fast as she could, but somehow the abandoned aura of the house was just as persuasive in encouraging the opposite. It was just as empty as she had always imagined.
Or not.
The shadow launched itself forward and dragged her in. There was the sound of a single drop of water splashing to the ground.
The silence was so thick that it filled her ears with a faint buzz. Wispy clouds of fog kept dancing past her field of vision, and when her brain finally connected them to the faint sighing sounds coming from her right, Izumi instinctively turned to look there.
At first she thought she was dreaming, before she realized that the sensations of humidity and coolness were too vivid to be anything but real. There was a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy (or man) in front of her, his skin nearly silver in the dim light. Black strands of hair poured down into the misty water, and Izumi jerked up in surprise.
She was in the middle of a pool. Staring at her hands, she lifted them cautiously through the filmy substance, but they were completely dry despite the sensation of moisture. Izumi tried to carry some of the watery liquid in her palm, but it slipped through easily, and she was left completely bewildered.
Soft ripples spread around her as she started moving around. The tiny waves reached the other person's skin and lapped up gently.
You are awake.
The words appeared in her head, and her panicky eyes flickered over to the young man in front of her. Something about his appearance made her doubt just how 'young' he was, but his skin was smooth like marble and didn't show a single sign of age. He wasn't exactly 'old,' either, but there was no better way to describe that untouchability. A thick layer of bandages covered him from the edge of his shoulders to his waist, where the rest of his body vanished into the liquid chasm.
She asked him, "Who are you?" and the sound of her voice echoed so loudly that it actually hurt to listen.
He didn't move. Again, the faint impression of dialogue made its way into her mind without any sign of where it had come from: You are awake.
Izumi wondered if there was something that he wanted to say, so she played along, hesitantly. "Yes."
That's not good.
"I…it isn't?" This time, Izumi couldn't contain a soft squeak at how horribly loud everything sounded. It was like every tiny vibration in the air was transmitting into her ears indiscriminately. There was no reply to her question, so she asked instead, "How…?" hoping that he would make the proper connections by himself and tell her how to talk without opening her mouth.
Luckily enough, he seemed to understand. You can say it in your head. As long as you want to.
She started to open her mouth but the figure suddenly moved, fingers closing around her mouth.
Think.
She did. Like this.
Yes. The normally smooth message was punctuated by a hint of approval. You learn fast.
She nodded wildly, green eyes wide with consternation. He shook his head almost mournfully, as though he were talking to a child, and rose out of the water by bracing his hands on the walls behind him.
Izumi suddenly realized that she was leaning against a solid edge, and she turned around to trace her fingers over it. Books, she realized, with a sudden shock. Why would there be books? Besides the fact that they wouldn't make for very sturdy walls, a pile of paper was hardly waterproof.
White fingers closed over hers, and she was startled to see that her own hands were just as pale and thin.
You should not be here.
I don't want to be, she replied, only half honestly. This was the most curious thing she had ever seen, why would she want to leave? On the other hand, it was rather disorienting being stranded here without anything to do. She looked longingly at the books. What a waste of good reading material.
Don't even think about it. He sounded almost panicked at the thought, and she couldn't help but grin.
Are all these yours?
Something sparked in the dead eyes, and he actually turned to face her this time. No. They are much, much too old.
Oh.
He fished out a pale orb of light from under the mist, and she stared for a moment. His fingers were wrapped around a small bowl of sorts, and there was milky fluid spiraling inside like a tornado. She watched with fascination, then confusion when he pressed it into her hands.
Drink. Be careful not to breathe it in.
So she did, throwing caution to the wind, because the logic in this world was completely twisted around and it wasn't like she had anything better to do. It tasted like caramel and satisfaction. The white twister floated to the top of the liquid, finally falling down in pale droplets over the curve of her neck.
Then Izumi slumped backwards into a deep sleep. This pattern repeated itself for a long, long time. She asked once, rather sleepily, what was in the liquid, but he never had an answer for her. Somehow Izumi got the feeling that even he didn't really know.
She had also asked him, rather embarrassingly, Are you human?
To which he'd stared at her rather amusedly, but didn't reply. At the moment, though, that was her primary objective: figure out whether or not her unexpected benefactor was human, real, supernatural, or any combination of the three.
At this point, she was pretty sure that the last one was true. The telepathy was evidence enough of that, even if she wasn't sure that it was telepathy in the traditional sense. But then again, she never felt awake enough to ask about how that worked, either, which was a real pity. She would have loved to learn about it…
You wanted to ask me something?
Eh? Izumi suddenly realized that she was still awake and didn't know why. What a way to take advantage of the opportunity, but after spending such a long time half-conscious she was still disoriented.
Your thoughts are very loud, princess.
Not a princess, she thought indignantly. The pressure of laughter inside her head wound Izumi up even more. I'm not, really!
Of course.
She huffed and decided not to get any more sidetracked than she already was. Who are you?
A memory. People used to call me Kouji.
Can I call you that?
Would I tell you if I didn't want you to?
Do you always answer a question with a question?
Is that a bad thing?
See, you're doing it again.
I am.
The sound of the dismissal in his tone was painfully clear in the hypersensitive regions of her mind. Izumi made a faint, protesting sound, but the force pushing her back was stronger.
Sleep.
The first thing she realized when she woke up was how clear everything was. Somewhere along the way, her eyes had gotten accustomed to the darkness and she could make out so many more details. For example, the liquid only looked like liquid when the lighting was poor. Now she could tell that it was more like a thickly woven blanket of mist. Mist fibers, for lack of a better way to describe them.
Seeing as there was no way she could figure out what they were with a book, she turned to her almost motionless companion. What is this made out of?
Thoughts, princess.
What?
You shouldn't look so surprised. For the first time, she could distinguish a kind of voice behind the message, and she concentrated as hard as she could to figure out how it was different from her thoughts.
I don't understand, she protested. What exactly…how does that work?
He lifted a cool palm up, running it through the thick moist clouds. They're thoughts, he repeated, slowly and impatiently. That's what they are. They make up the world.
They do? Is that the way things work around here?
It's the same everywhere in the world.
This world, or the other one?
What other one?
Outside.
It's all one world, princess.
No…I mean, they don't look the same.
You haven't gone anywhere, if that's what you're asking. It's just that now you see the things that most people try not to.
Would I have been able to see you before? Outside?
I don't know. I haven't been outside in a very long time.
Are you real? she asked, perfectly serious. For a moment, the air rung and vibrated.
He was transmitting his amusement through the entire area, and she could literally feel it running across her skin tantalizingly. A wonderful power, indescribable and unforgettable. Izumi wondered if she could learn how to do it, but decided to ask later.
Everything you see here has always been here.
Like you?
Oh, no. I think I am like you. Was like you. For the first time, Kouji sounded hesitant. I can't remember anymore.
How long ago?
A long time. Just long.
Of course. With the unchanging surroundings, there was no way that he could keep track of time in this place. No sun, not even any windows, or even the slightest hint of aging. She once dived into the pool to read the titles of the books; many were written in languages that – to her knowledge – didn't even exist anymore. How old was this place?
I don't know, princess.
Izumi instantly flushed, like she always did when he read her mind unexpectedly. The invasion of privacy left her feeling bereft and lost. Is there a way out?
There wasn't a reply from his side, only the faint buzz of confusion.
Izumi clarified. Is there a way to go back to where I came from?
Where is that?
It's… Izumi tried to reach deep within her consciousness and felt the beginnings of panic when she didn't remember. It's…
Yes? He sounded impatient again, and she wondered how he had lasted so long by himself with such a short attention span.
For her part, though, she felt lost and afraid. I don't know. I don't know where I came from! Where is this place? Kouji!
He winced. Too loud.
I'm sorry, she said, dejectedly. But I need to get out. I need to…
Thoughts, remember? Kouji tapped his forehead. If you keep thrashing around like that, you'll lose them even faster.
What?!
The water, he repeated. It's made of thoughts. It needs to feed, you know.
Feed. Izumi shuddered, whether in anger or in fear, she didn't know. How? Why? Why would you…? Why didn't you tell me?
A sudden chill in the water tightened around her body, squeezing her skin. Gasping, Izumi frantically tried to back away from the complete body hold, but the cold seeped into her bones and left her tired and sick and sore.
She was suddenly hauled out of the water, gasping and choking. The world tipped on its axis and made her blink hazily through the flashing dark spots. As much as she was relieved to be out of the sudden whirlpool, Izumi had to pull herself free again to cough out little drops of mist.
You idiot. Don't insult the water like that.
She glared at him and ran a hand through her hair, shocked to find that it had grown into a thick mass almost a foot longer than the last time she had seen it. Somehow, that made a bigger impression on her than anything else that had happened today, including the near-drowning.
You need to get your priorities in order, princess.
Again with the invasion of privacy! Izumi was peeved, and told him so. Then he (sort of) laughed, and she rather crossly informed him that she didn't appreciate being made fun of.
Which made him (sort of) laugh again. She promptly turned around and ignored him as long as she could. That didn't last long, though, because she quickly fell into a much-needed doze. Kouji whispered brief self-defenses that Izumi rejected more out of principle than out of anger, and all was quiet.
Until she woke up again, sleepily. For once, Izumi was completely alone, and she spent the next few minutes searching for her companion. Nothing in the immediate area turned up, so she decided to walk along the edge of the pool to look for him. Before leaving, Izumi marked her starting point by opening one of the books and placing it back on the wall. Then she went along her way.
The water was fairly deep, but nothing that she couldn't handle. Sometimes the floor would turn to mush and Izumi had to wade through the thick mixture, other times her skin felt completely dry and untouched as she walked through. The inconsistency made her uncomfortable now that she knew that all of it was made of people's thoughts, because then she had to wonder why some thoughts were heavier and others lighter, and why there were more heavy ones than light –
She started to slow down as her eyelids felt heavier and heavier… No. She couldn't sleep. She had to keep going…
Where was she going?
The faint memory of blue eyes slid behind her eyes, and she was startled into moving again. That's right. Kouji wasn't there. Where was Kouji? Where was this? Where was her home?
Where…where…where….
The pressure in her head was horrible and it left her sprawled against the wall, gasping. The thin tendrils of water that were slipping into her body became thicker and thicker until she felt like the center of a cobweb. Slowly, Izumi became aware of someone or something all around her, throbbing in the deep pool and dripping precious bits of life into the air. The drowsiness vanished completely.
Izumi gasped out loud and tried to scream. The words got stuck in her throat and she was left to choke on the rising waves. Desperate but not so much that she forgot how to think, Izumi tried to open up her mind and send signals all along the quivering liquid. Somewhere, she felt someone respond to her cry for help, but it was too far away for her to hear them. The pressure conquered every last inch of control she still had over her mind, and she slipped under.
It looked like a completely different world.
Floundering in a fathomless sea, Izumi finally managed to arrange herself into an awkward paddling position that kept her head upright, long enough to look around. Fortunately or unfortunately, she cared more about the fact that she was still alone than she did about vanishing off to who knows where.
A white spiral dashed past suddenly and Izumi reached out a hand to snatch it. Pain laced her fingers and she let go with a cry, but the little miniature tornado stayed put. Izumi poked at it cautiously and received another sting for her trouble. By now, she was sure that it was the same as the swirl that Kouji used to give her, but it didn't look like she could drink it. Maybe there was something that he did to make it edible? Or rather, potable?
The response to her distress call came again – and this time she could hear it very clearly. Izumi began to maneuver her body around so that she was facing the source of the reply, and then she set off once more. Slowly, the faint messages sharpened and cleared.
Just before the transmission of incomprehensible sound unraveled and returned full blast, Izumi broke through the surface and landed awkwardly in someone else's arms.
Princess!
She had never been more relieved to hear that nickname. Kouji? She shifted around so that she could look at him in the eye, tilting her head back almost parallel to the surface of the water.
Where did you go?
I should ask you that first, she countered.
Though Kouji's face rarely changed expression, Izumi had learned to feel for his emotions mentally by stretching her thoughts over him. And right now, his mind practically thrummed with indignation. Why did you run? It was safe where you were.
And I should trust you…why?
Good point, he admitted reluctantly. You still don't know me. And you don't understand.
Then tell me.
Will you believe me?
Depends on what you tell me. Of course, Izumi wasn't about to tell him that her standards for believing random strangers had dropped considerably over the course of her stay here. It wasn't like she had much choice in the matter. There was always the option of not trusting him – but then she probably wouldn't have survived. It was official: she hated being dependent on another human being…although she had her doubts as to whether or not Kouji was actually human, but that was another issue altogether.
And it didn't escape her notice that he had actually asked this time.
Will you trust me?
Izumi had no idea why, but it was inconceivable saying anything but Yes.
Then I will tell you.
And he did. About the seas. About what little he remembered. About the water that wasn't really water. He must have gone on for hours, because she was sitting there and listening long after she already felt too tired to think for herself.
When the trail of information faded away, she held onto him with slightly trembling hands. This place is magical.
It is. A beautiful home.
She was rather inclined to agree with him. The devil's advocate in her, however, pointed out the obvious hole in the argument. Namely, the fact that she already had a home, one that was very much non-aquatic. As if in response to the depressing memories that would inevitably crop up, the pressure against her head suddenly backed off and allowed a few meaningless images to filter through from his side.
A white house.
A green lawn.
A delivery truck.
Sudden recognition lit up when she saw that particular memory. Kouji, is that your house?
I don't know, he replied, almost carelessly.
How can you not know? Izumi let her hands splay on his chest, raveling and unraveling the secure bandages on his chest. The skin underneath was perfectly healthy and whole, so she had to wonder why he wore them. On the other hand, he didn't seem to have anything else to wear, so she couldn't really complain.
It's complicated.
Everything here's complicated. I've got time, remember?
He stood there breathing under her cautious examination, looking rather pleased at the skin contact. Then her fingers sank into the curve of his waist, and Kouji's hands suddenly shot forward to pull up against him. This time, he made his intentions clear before actually doing it, so Izumi didn't really mind. Telepathy – or whatever it was – was quite convenient sometimes.
We call it miming here.
Eh?
Our way of speaking. He slipped one hand over her shoulder and into her hair. It's called miming.
Alright then. Why do you call it something else?
His mouth twitched. Talking and speaking deal with your mouth. Miming doesn't.
Why do you mime? I mean, you could just as easily talk, couldn't you?
Headache.
That's true. Why is the sound here so loud?
Echo.
We're back to one letter replies again! Kouji… Izumi was practically whining, not that it was any of her fault. Of course not. He was the one who had to make her feel like a little girl who needed someone to hold her hand. Nothing to do with her. Nope. Not at all.
Of course not. And by the way, the sky's not blue either.
Kouji, shut up.
But I'm not even talking, princess, he mocked with a soft snicker. Well, at least he was using full sentences again.
She took advantage of his sudden sociability. Kouji, why is there water everywhere?
Because that's the first step.
To what?
To life.
Water?
Do you need a geography lesson, princess? He teased her gently. Primeval seas? First life on earth?
And how do you know –
The water remembers. Kouji tilted his body so that he could float on his back. Everything. One day it'll tell you about all of it.
But I'm guessing that today's not my lucky day?
Silly thing. You'll definitely know when it's time.
And in exchange for this information…
You'll give it all of your thoughts. At seeing her horrified look, he quickly added, Not all at once, mind you. But it'll take everything away eventually.
Why would it do that?
Princess, it's called poetic justice. It will give you everything that it has if you do the same. It's a mutual exchange.
Izumi began to shiver slightly. I don't know if I want it.
Nobody does until it's already done. You'll learn to live with it.
I won't, she retorted defiantly. I need to get back home.
The energetic buzz that surrounded his mind suddenly cut off and she felt cold. Princess, you have no idea why you're here, do you?
I went into your house, she replied shortly.
My house?
The house in the memory that you gave me.
Ah. That.
It's not yours?
He turned to look at her, pale with pity. It must have been. But I'm not that person anymore.
But you're still here, she murmured, suddenly realizing how close they were. Her chin was just a hair's breadth away from the crook of his neck, and they were pressed together from chest to knee. It was unbelievably comfortable.
Yes. Here. Not in that house. He sounded determined to explain his point of view. Izumi was, quite frankly, more than ready to have this discussion.
But it's not the same for me, she told him. I have a room back outside. With books. And a family. The last was said as an afterthought, and there was barely any feeling put into the declaration. She knew he would notice, and cursed herself for being so easily read.
As expected, he commented on her apathy. But do you really want to go back?
Chin high. Back straight. It's none of your business anyway. But I want to get out. I dare you to tell me that I'm lying. I know that you can tell.
Princess. When I said that you can't go back, I meant it. You…cannot…go…back.
Izumi bristled at the patronizing tone, but somehow didn't think to disentangle herself from his arms. Why can't I?
Kouji sighed heavily. The water already gave part of itself to you, he said patiently. It won't let you go until you give an equal measure back.
What does it want? Memories?
Yes.
Then I'll give it some memories. I've got a few from childhood –
No. Listen. This place isn't like any other place in the world. It's outside of time. You've practically become immortal. In exchange for that, do you honestly think that the water will be satisfied with some worthless memory that you don't even care about?
Izumi hoped that her face showed how horrified she felt. It might help convince him of how completely she wanted out, now, before something awful happened. I didn't ask for it. I still have to pay the price, even though I had no choice in the matter?
Yes, he confirmed quietly. For living here this long, you have already entered a contract. You owe the water. And now it demands its payment.
Her fingers stopped trembling somewhat when Kouji reached down to touch them to his lips. It needs all of my thoughts, doesn't it?
Yes. But you will always make more.
Am I stuck here forever?
You have to give away all of your thoughts, but you'll never die. It's impossible to fulfill your part of the contract.
Is that a yes? Instead of panicking like she did last time, anger coiled around her spirit until she was ready to lash out at anyone and anything. A restraining wave held her back, and after dealing with him for so long, Izumi instantly recognized the source. Kouji, let me go.
No. Calm down first.
I won't!
Stay there, then.
She sucked in a breath. Even before trying to talk to him, she had known that he wouldn't support her. But there had been a chance that he would change his mind. The well-hidden hesitance was becoming clearer and clearer the more she pushed him. It would only take a little bit more.
What are you going to do? Kouji looked at her seriously, calculatingly.
Izumi knew: it was dangerous to play like this with an intelligent ally. She might end up owing him more than she could pay for the help. Still. It was worth a shot. I don't know. I need a plan. And to make a plan, I need information.
And I'm the perfect person for the job, I suppose.
Yes. Does that bother you? She waited with bated breath. His message was delivered in a deliberate monotone; she didn't need to be told to know that he had figured out what she wanted. It only proved her right in wanting him as a partner. Still, compatibility was only half the equation. If he didn't want to join, it would be over before she had the chance to do anything.
A partner was just that, a partner. One half. It wouldn't be right to seize him up without laying out what she wanted. Then she would be a hypocrite.
Finally, he looked up and met her gaze unflinchingly. I accept your challenge. Lead the way, princess.
Relief flooded her heart, and she slung her arms around him delightedly. Of course.
TO BE CONTINUED....