Wanderer
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What is a city?
A road network. A name. An empty place to return to. A home for thousand of people. A heart that pumps memories and links buildings. A place you feel you belong to.
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The emperor was waiting patiently, while his counselors were fusing around him as though something unusual has happened in the country. Nevertheless, it was an unique event to receive the visit of a wanderer, much less when any had passed its borders for the last decade.
'Your highness, we are still trying to learn more about this young wanderer so you can decide whether you want to receive him or not.' offered prime minister.
'His name is Tezuka Kunimitsu. He had to write it down, given the fact that he does not speak our language.' muttered his private counselor.
'So he is a foreigner.' emperor Ryoma said.
'Most certainly, your highness, yet we know nothing about where he comes from. Nor with what purpose did he come to this country.' the external affairs minister admitted.
'Then what are you waiting for? Just grant him entrance to the palace. You made me curious already. ' the emperor bellowed.
'But your highness…'
'Dare you disapprove?' said he, the authority lingering in his voice.
'As you wish.'
The foreigner was nothing out of the ordinary, with his long robe and glasses. Though his aura was of one who knew many. He must be a scholar.
Ryoma took a piece of paper after observing Tezuka for several moments. He wrote something and handed it to the man.
The traveler pounded his answer and wrote likewise.
-My name is Tezuka Kunimitsu. I came to this country to become your traveler. I learned that you want to know your country. I can wander through the cities and give you the details of each.-
The emperor did not give away his picked interest on the request of the foreigner. He was right, he was eager to know every nick and crack of his country, his people, and their customs.
-From now on you will be my traveler. I will await you to come back every month with a description of the cities you've been through.-
-Yes, your highness.-
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Tezuka was left for a month. And when the time arrived to report to the emperor he came prepared. He brought objects which the help he supported his characterizations. The emperor was amazed. With just a single object he could bring to life an entire world.
A sword could mean either an army, or victory.
An hourglass was the word for time or a god of that city.
A rose could symbolize beauty, wealth, or delicacy and grace.
Once he brought a cross. Its significance was vital for the country, for it was the bloom of Christianity.
He learned to communicate with Tezuka through signs.
They were spending more and more time together, once a month, but their bond became stronger with every encounter.
The emperor soon realized that every fact or news shown by his informer was becoming precious to him, because of the space that was surrounding them, and a wanton needles to fill by words.
One day the traveler uttered his first words.
"Your country is like a maze. Not one city is similar to the other."
"You may be right. Its diversity makes me wonder whether my people are happy or their life is making them sad."
"Your people are travelers through life, sometimes they enjoy their journey, other times they are thrown in front of a crossroad. It depends of the perspective you are viewing things."
"Che, so they are unhappy."
"Not necessarily. I myself am a voyager and I encountered both pleasant and unpleasant situations throughout my wanders."
"Yet you never told me what you want from the future."
"Your highness, I rove not to ask myself futile questions. I do it to answer yours."
"What you recall is always in the past. You wander to live your past again?"
"No. I journey to understand myself and to answer the inquiries the cities make me ask about the road I have taken."
Sometimes in the middle of their conversations they just stared at each other speechless and still as stones. The foreigner learned the language of the emperor, or the emperor learned the language of the foreigner. But through their eyes the words preceded much faster and the unspoken understanding was what made them get more intimate with each other.
" All your stories are just tales, not reality. All these cities lie within your imagination, am I right?"
"No."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I have been there. I thought I have gained your trust by now" Tezuka said calmly.
"You have. But what if our encounters happen just in our dreams? What if we are two men prone to meet just outside reality?"
"We are not. If we were then you most definitely would not have been an emperor, and I could not have been your traveler."
"This garden seems most of the time surreal. As well as our meetings."
"Here. Take my hand. I am real. Standing right in front of you. This is reality."
The emperor took the outlander's hand, squeezing gently. Not wanting to let go.
"Tezuka, you never change!"
Would you want me to?"
"Of course not."
The bound was stronger than ever. They were friends. But they could become more. If the time and place allow them to.
"What is a city?"
The question took Tezuka by surprise. For over a year he was telling stories about the cities of that country. And now the emperor wanted to know what a city was?
"Honestly, Ryoma, are you sure you don't know what a city is?"
"If I knew, wouldn't have asked, would I?"
Sighing Tezuka gave in to his fondness.
"A city is a place you feel you belong to."
"Hmm…Do you have a city you belong to?"
Another question he has not foreseen.
"You may say I have."
"Care to tell me its name?"
"Targos"
"How come you never told me about it?"
"The images tend to erase themselves from the memory after being put into words. I guess I was afraid to lose Targos at once, if I talked about it."
"I see…"
"Or maybe traveling through so many cities I have already lost it little by little."
"I hope someday you will find the courage to share this cherished memory with me."
"I will."
Other times They were just laying on a tree trunk, immersed on their odyssey of their thoughts, unconsciously Ryoma holding Tezuka's hand. The leaves danced before blind eyes, the wind roared to deaf ears. Now and then, the only sound that reverberated through their consciousness was the one of their breaths. Soon they were peacefully sleeping in each other's embrace.
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It happens a month later. The wanderer has for the first time missed their usual meeting. The emperor stays at the garden's gate looking at the mountains from the southeast. He is not hoping to see a dark robe, or a mass of brown hair, or even thick glasses glistering in the sun. He is watching anyway, because watching gives him the illusion he is doing something useful.
The mist was just enveloping his restless mind. How long has it been since he last walked on earth? He regarded the depths under the road. It was entirely odd to just separate yourself from the security of the soil, to live high above between the wind's whiffs.
He should not be here. He gave his word to meet with Ryoma every month. Why did his footsteps guide him into that town? It is said its name is Shindler, or so he heard. He never set foot in it before, nor has he heard of it until then.
All around him steps, voices, noises were mingling as though pumped by their own life. The flowing of people was incessant, engrossing him in a mass that was ascending higher onto unknown paths.
"Where are we going?" he tried to ask the people.
"At the pinnacle of the island. Are you not from this town?" an elderly woman answered calmly pinning him with her observant eyes.
"No. I am not from Shindler. It is my first time here."
"Do not worry. You are soon going to understand." She added wisely.
The spiral of ways was culminating with the peak of the mountain. Where it should have been the sky, it was a harbor. Currently no ship was anchored. However, the citizens were expecting something to happen.
"The legend says that when the one who travels past cities will arrive at this point, the one who he seeks will appear brought by a ship." the woman's dim voice subtly added.
"But will it ever go by? How will a ship float on thin air? This seems impossible to me." Tezuka retorted sternly.
"Your name is?" she simply asked.
"Tezuka."
"Tezuka, you are still inexperienced. You refuse to see what is beyound your comprehension. Let me tell you a story while we still have time."
Once upon a time there was an emperor who claimed he knew every rock and mountain on his country. Oh how wrong was he!
He failed to understand that nothing stays the same forever, everything alters , and thus his country ought to never dwell unchanged. As years passed he refused to leave his palace deliberating there is not a thing outside he has not seen before. His counselors were ill at ease, for their sovereign's health was steadily deteriorating. They tried all means of persuation , but to no avail. The emperor's batty and stubborn attitude was irreversible.
All warlocks, magicians and shamans were fetched. Each pretended to know what was to be done to redress the emperor's attitude. Many suggested his interest was not aroused enough. Others were certain it was just a whim, but the rest concluded it had to do with the need to share all the things with someone.
One late autumn, when all hopes seemed lost and the young lord ceased to open his eyes, a stranger no older than twenty came to the palace to become the eye of the king in the country. The blind man was reluctant on receiving him in, but gave up ultimately.
Was the wanderer able to return the smile on the ruler's face? The results were promising. The younger one agreed to spend their time together in the gardens. His blindness cured and the smile flicker on his face.
The oddity was that the foreigner did not speak the language of that country, nonetheless he understood the emperor the best. He lit a fire in the teenager's soul, a feeble one, a blooming flower ready to be awakened by the spring breeze.
After a year, the traveler left and never came back. Since then the legend says the emperor is looking for him in a boat through air and earth. Only when the desire of the traveler is strong enough to see the other, will he appear on this mountain.
Tezuka listened carefully. The story was very similar to theirs. Could it be…? No it was virtually impossible. By his nature Tezuka was prone to rely on the sayings of the wise people. His entire life was built on such believes. He remained silent not knowing how to answer to that. It was just a legend, nothing more.
"Sometimes the truth lies right before your eyes. Is up to you whether you want to acknowledge it or not." the old lady warned, while leaving in the opposite direction.
Tezuka massaged his temple waiting for a migraine to settle. He asked himself again why his footsteps guided him to this town in the first place.
He wanted to see Ryoma again, that went without saying, however he was not that sure of how much was he willing to believe in the legend. Standing there in the moon's light with thousands of people he could not separate his own will from theirs.
All gazes were drawn upwards. The sky finally opened its gates and rain purred down on their faces. A shadow could be seen between mist and flashings. Swiftly a sound was heard from underneath their feet. The soil quavered. The platform cracked open…A harbor ascended from the depths of the earth…
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Dark drank up every inch of his yard, the sunset overshadowing his sleepless eyes, his longing smile, yet challenging demeanor. It was minutes after midnight and he could not let his mind rest, nor his soul settle. Tezuka was not coming back or he was trapped in a town. It was not like him to break a promise.
Everyday that passed he wanted to leave this stillness and do soothing. Although he never left the palace before, he would definitely set his foot out; he would leave his principles behind just for Tezuka.
A bright light headed at full tilt towards the palace, its intensity too powerful for the barrier. Shattered it is in million pieces without anyone noticed what had happened. It was as if a dagger pierced a heart, taking away not only life, but the memory of the pain. The garden disappeared, leaving behind only black soil. Anyone asked would say that there was no such garden in that place.
It was as if Ryoma never existed.