If I can meet you someday,
If you are waiting for me,
Then my long, long journey
Was not so bad after all.
Ahiru smiled and tilted her head up towards the sky. "Ah, a perfect day for a hike!" She raised her lit cigarette back to her lips. "Not a cloud to be seen. Of course, that could be to our disadvantage, knowing how hot it got yesterday, but…"
Behind her, a young man stretched and slid down from his perch on the branch of a tree. "Why does it have to be so damn warm this early in the morning?!"
"Oh, good, you're awake." Ahiru turned to face him. "We're almost out of food – I want to get a move on to the nearest town before the sun gets too high."
Yet groggy from sleep, he rubbed his head. "Yeah, okay. Right. Toss me a cigarette? And have you seen my hair tie?"
"I think you stuffed it in your pack last night." She groped in her pocket for the cigarette pack. "Here you are!" She flicked a fresh cigarette to him. He caught it between two fingers and held it between his teeth as he pulled his hair back.
"So… Shall we go, then?" Ahiru slung her bag over her shoulder and adjusted the strap of her tank top. "It's only gonna get warmer!"
"I know, I know… Just hold on a damn moment." The boy hastily lit his own cigarette and shrugged his pack onto his back. "So… Where are we headed?"
"Down to Newville."
"Never heard of it."
"Thought you'd say that." Ahiru pulled a scuffed, rolled-up piece of paper out of a side compartment of her bag and tossed it to him. "It's pretty small, and pretty old – kinda weird that it's called Newville, right? Anyways, I heard it's got some shops and a market, and that's good enough for stocking up."
He examined the map with an absent eye, lips mashing the edge of his cigarette. He finally nodded and handed it back to her. "So, do you… feel any closer today?"
"No, silly!" She slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "We haven't changed position since we set up camp last night, so of course I wouldn't feel any differently! Unless…" She tilted her head back up to the sky. "…He had moved."
The boy swallowed and grimaced. "Let's get a move on, already!"
"Hey! I'm the impatient one here, Fakir!" Ahiru laughed and struck him again on the shoulder, knocking him off balance. "Oops… Sorry."
He picked himself up quickly and slapped the dust off of his hands. "Not a big deal."
Smiling, she started through the forest ahead of him.
He stood for a moment, watching her, before starting after her.
After a half hour of hiking through the thick forest, they came to an open field. In the distance, a small town was visible. Ahiru sighed and stretched her arms up over her head. "Finally... Phew. It was getting really stuffy in those woods."
Fakir adjusted his pack and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "So what do we need to pick up?"
"Bread, salted beef, and fruit leather. You know... the usual."
"Right. And... cigarettes."
"Of course, cigarettes."
"Always cigarettes."
"Always."
"And oil."
"Of course."
"Always oil."
"Stop it!" Ahiru laughed. Fakir broke into a grin. "Yes, cigarettes, and yes, oil. Okay?"
"Just making sure you're on top of things." Fakir chuckled and exhaled, a steady stream of smoke wisping from his lips.
"Of course I am. I'm the one keeping track of the supplies, am I not?"
They came to a cobblestone road leading directly to Newville's town square. The town consisted mostly of brick and stone houses and buildings, all packed tightly together, with luscious spots of grass and dandelions for yards.
"Mm. It's nice to be back in civilization." Ahiru stomped out her cigarette. "Hey, I'm going to find someplace to wash our dirty clothes. Are you okay with grabbing supplies?"
"Yeah. No problem." Fakir undid his ponytail, shaking out the scraggly locks, before retying it neatly. "Let's see... bread, salted beef, and cigarettes."
"And fruit leather."
"Oh, come on! I hate that crap! Why do we keep wasting money on it?!"
"It's part of a well-balanced diet. Deal with it. Now give me your dirty laundry."
"You can't handle my dirty laundry."
"Oh, please. We've been with each other through sickness and health. I think I can handle some grimy clothes."
"Alright. Don't say I didn't warn you." Fakir dropped his pack and pulled out a handful of fabric. "There." He tossed it to Ahiru.
"Hm... It smells like... sweat, grease, dirt, and skunk... In other words, just like you!"
"Shut up." Fakir grimaced. "I warned you, didn't I?"
Ahiru sighed. "You really can't take a joke, can you?" She folded her arms around the clothes. "It looks like there's a store over there." She nodded to a squat building at the opposite corner of the square. "You should be able to find what we need over there." She started down the lane.
Fakir paused before starting his own way, watching her stride away. Then he turned around, scuffing the ground violently and cursing his own touchiness. "Damn it!"
He tilted his head back, taking a deep breath, and swung up his pack. He stormed off towards the shop, his head bent in regret.
It felt like she had walked quite a ways when Ahiru came to a clear stream running along the outside of the town. There were two other women further down washing clothes and gossiping, and Ahiru dropped the clothes next to the water's edge.
"Let's see..." She pulled out a bar of soap and sighed. "Oh, man, maybe I should've asked Fakir to take care of the clothes instead. I'm better at haggling, after all, and... I suck at cleaning clothes." She shook her ragged bangs out of her eyes and grit her teeth in determination. "Oh, well. I can do it. It shouldn't be too hard... Just need some soap and water." She awkwardly pulled out the first garment from the pile. "Let's see... Fakir's jacket." She was about to dunk it into the stream when she spotted a gash on its shoulder. "Hm?" She smoothed it out and took a good look at it. She sighed again. "Ah, Fakir. Another tear? I wonder why he didn't say anything about it."
There must be some way to fix it... She dug through her pack. Let's see...
Her hand came into contact with a smooth box. She pulled it out eagerly. "Fakir's sewing kit!"
Fakir hated sewing, it was true, but Ahiru lacked the 'delicacy' to do such tasks, so he had taken over in that area. He hated any mention of the kit, or even of the fact that he could sew quite well, and Ahiru smiled. "He'll be happy to see that I can fix it myself!" She pulled out the shiniest sewing needle and some plain thread. "Okay... Right. Just..." She pricked her finger. "Ouch! God dammit!" She wrung her hand in pain.
The two women looked up from their laundry and stared at her.
She smiled back sheepishly. "Nothing wrong here!"
Their gaze continued to burn into her for a long moment, and she felt them scrutinizing her. The patched tank top, the stained pants, her messy braid... That layer of dusty dirt that she could never quite clean out from her fingernails or cheeks.
Then their gaze fell upon the matching markings on her arms and the backs of her hands.
A long, silver tattoo wrapped around the trunk of each arm, ending in a swirl on the hand. Perched upon the swirl was a single swan.
Their expressions became one of outright disgust. She could almost hear their shrill thoughts - What was a young girl doing with such elaborate and flashy tattoos? What kind of family produced such a mess?
Despite their patronizing behavior and the hot flush that rose up her neck, her grin didn't falter. Finally, they turned back to their superfluous chatter.
She exhaled. Sure, I might not be a proper lady, but... Who are they to judge me? When you're like me, you don't really get the time to be a lady. And what fun is there in corsets and dresses, anyways? Her hand itched for the cigarette pack in her back pocket, and her fingers twitched.
When you're like me...
She stared at the marks on her arms that had caught their attention. She brushed her fingers over the silver trail. It was not a tattoo or paint, but a birthmark that was part of her skin. A unique birthmark, and one that labelled her as who she really was.
Nobody understood the marks, besides a handful of other people. Everyone else was unaware, oblivious, even though the marks had a direct correlation to their own fates.
Nobody else truly understood.
She sighed and let herself go in a moment of reflection.
It's been eighty years...
...and I am the fourth reincarnation.
It's funny. That doesn't sound like much, but... When you have the memories of five other people, it really is quite the rush.
Five other people who lived and died chasing the same goal, the same fate...
She bit her lip. I am Ahiru Arima, the fourth White Swan, the fourth reincarnation... of Odette.
Wow... What a long title.
The sound of somebody clearing their throat startled her. She turned towards them.
It was one of the women from before. Ahiru tensed.
But the woman hadn't come to be snarky. To the contrary, she grinned hesitantly and held out a bucket and washboard. "Would... you like some help with those?"
Ahiru's eyes widened as she realized that this was a peace-offering, and she looked back at the clothes before her. "Y... Yes! Thank you!"
Fakir made his way slowly around the shop, taking in all of the merchandise. He'd learned this from Ahiru - always look carefully and observe before buying. It was useful to get a feel for the shop and kind of products they sold, and what they charged, to better haggle with the merchant. That might sound frugal and peckish, but when one was living day to day, bartering was a crucial skill and serious business.
He finally picked out the goods they needed and made his way to the merchant's counter. The merchant, a portly man with arms like a bear's, took him in with a practiced eye. "Anything else I can help you with?"
"Yeah, I was wondering if you sold cigarettes here?"
"Yeah. One moment." The man slowly slid off his stool and made his way to a cabinet in the back.
Fakir inhaled deeply, savoring the coolness of the shop. He flicked the ashes off of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray and took a long drag. Summer was wearing on him, and he wasn't looking forward to going back out into the sun and heat. But... For Ahiru, he would.
Of course he would. She was everything to him. They'd grown up together, after all, in the same nomadic camp in the distant mountains of the west. When she'd become old enough to understand the weird dreams she had of young women visiting her, the weird flashbacks she had of a life that was not her own, she had told him of her intention to fulfill the goal she'd been born with...
Find the prince, her beloved, and restore time.
There was no way he'd let her set off on such a journey herself.
So they packed their clothes and said their goodbyes...
And set off to find her prince.
Her prince. Her true love. Fakir's hand shook as he steadied his cigarette. But the older he got, the harder it was to swallow that. She was now within reach of that goal, and he had no idea in hell of what that meant for him.
His feelings for her were doomed. But...
"Here you are." The merchant set a case of fine cigars before him.
"What...? These aren't cigarettes!" Fakir yelped. "These are cigars! I can't afford these!"
"Can't afford, don't complain," the man muttered, closing the case.
"Wait...!" On impulse, Fakir rose his hand, gesturing for the man to stop. "Do you have anything... girly in there?"
Ahiru was on her way back to the shop where she'd left Fakir. The woman, seemingly consumed with guilt for her shallowness, had helped her string the clothes up to dry, and now Ahiru couldn't wait to show Fakir the new handiwork on his jacket.
She hadn't had any other fabric to use, so she'd cut a patch off of her own jeans to cover the tear. It didn't bother her - her jeans were plenty long enough, the hole didn't show - and she felt better, knowing that his jacket would once again fulfill its duty.
"The breeze won't get in, anyways," she murmured to herself, admiring the patch.
She was almost through the shop's door, her hand on the doorknob, when a corner of the patch came loose.
"No no NO!" She held it down with desperate fingers. "I can't give it to Fakir like this! I'd better do a quick repair..." She pulled back out the sewing kit and was halfway through resewing the patch when she heard Fakir's voice and the merchant's come through the cracked door.
"Girly?" The man looked at him in bored disbelief.
"Yeah. Something..." Fakir scratched his head. "Feminine?"
"Feminine?" The merchant sat back on his stool. "You mean, for a woman?"
"Yeah." Fakir's confidence was diminishing by the second.
But the merchant, after regarding him for a long moment, broke into a smile. "I see. Have anything to do with that redhead you entered town with?"
Fakir was caught off-guard. "You mean... Ahiru?"
"Yep. If that's her name. You travelling with her?"
"...How'd you...?"
"I have windows, you know. And we don't get a lot of visitors here. Stuck in the middle of goddamn nowhere, after all. She your girl?"
Fakir turned red with anger and embarrassment. "No! How dare you..." His hands balled into fists ontop of the counter. "Look, how much?"
"How much for what?"
"For the goddamn cigar!"
"You mean, the girly one you're after?"
"YES!"
"I don't got any. Girly cigars aren't popular 'round here."
"For the love of..." Fakir slammed his fist on the counter in rage and shot up. "I'll go get the stupid supplies somewhere else..."
The merchant continued to smile as Fakir stormed away. He spoke up once more. "You know, there are better ways to tell a woman how you feel than with cigars."
Fakir halted, his back still to him. "...Ahiru... She... She's not like other girls."
"Mm?"
"She's not into candy, or dresses, or... She does like candy, but-"
"Not what I meant." The merchant adjusted his shirt collar.
Fakir was silent.
"If you love a woman... If there's anything I've learned... Presents can only tell so much." The merchant smiled wistfully. "Better to tell and get it over with, than wallow in receipts and regret."
Fakir's voice was only a whisper. "...It will never happen."
"Don't know 'til you try."
"I appreciate the advice, but..." Fakir reached for the doorknob. "It just..." His grip tightened on the knob until his knuckles were white. "It just won't happen."
"Don't know 'til you try," the merchant said again as Fakir exited the shop.
Ahiru scrambled away from the shop and past its corner as she heard Fakir's footsteps approach the door. Her heartbeat was a drum in her ears, the rush of her pulse making her dizzy. She could feel the flush, prickling hot, rise up her neck...
Fakir... Fakir... Has feelings... for me...?
She took a moment to catch her breath, leaning back against the clapboard of the shop's exterior. He... She began to grin. He...
Then her smile dropped. No... No... This is the worst thing that could've happened! She ran her hands up her forehead, grabbing at her bangs. I am fated to - I can't - he -
But... He loves me, regardless?
And I... I...
The crunch of Fakir's boots came closer, and she jolted upright once more.
His eyebrows rose in surprise, seeing her so close. He halted and took her in. "Hey."
"Hey." Her voice was jerky and awkward.
"What's wrong?" Fakir's brow furrowed. "Did you wash the clothes?"
"Y-Yes!" Ahiru's eyes widened a bit too exuberantly as she scrambled to hand him his clothes. "Oh, and - and you got a tear in your jacket, so..." She mopped a bead of sweat off her grimy forehead. "So I tried to patch it!" Breathless, she held it up for him to see.
He said nothing, his expression puzzled by her behavior.
"Well?! Take it!" She chucked it into his arms. "Kind of a crappy job, I know, but..." Her shaking hand reached for the cigarette pack in her pocket. She pulled one out with unsteady fingers and lit it, inhaling deeply and savoring its bitter smoke. "I suck at sewing. You know that." She laughed jitterly and shrugged.
"Are you alright?" He moved to put his hand on her forehead. "I'm sensing more idiocy than usual..."
"Jerk!" She batted his hand away. "I-It's nothing."
He stared at her, concerned, for another long moment. Then his expression broke into one of horrified understanding. "You... Did you... How long have you been out here?" His own hands began to shake.
"Not long!" She squeaked. "I just - just had to finish that patch, is all. I... I'm sorry." She sighed and drooped her head. "It's been a really long day."
"Right..." His voice was unsteady.
"C'mon." She began to regain her mental footing. "Let's go find somewhere to pitch a tent."
They began to walk back through the town, an awkward distance between them.
Meanwhile, miles away, a young man was urging his horse to go faster. They trampled in a blur over the rough, pock-marked dirt road and through clumps of trees.
"C'mon!" He hissed to the horse. The stallion strained its neck, trying to push its limits, but could not go any faster.
Breaking out into a cold sweat, he looked behind them.
There was nothing but a solid mile of shadowed forest, and yet he felt the sinister presence that had encroached him for weeks continue to close in.
Breathing heavily, he leaned further down. I can feel her, Odette... She's still several miles off, though.
But I must reach her... I must reach her.
Before the black swan reaches me.
And we meet the same fate of our predeccesors.
He looked over his shoulder once more.
In time to his thoughts, a single black feather fell from the tree that had just been overhead.
Author's notes: I want to keep this very short and simple for this fanfiction, because the point is the story.
My warning for you is... Don't get too attached.
Inspired by a mix of Swan Lake, Princess Tutu, and The Record of a Fallen Vampire. Would not exist without the theme of Schindler's List, the Twilight score, or Close Our Eyes by Chelsea Lankes.
If you would like to see my own rendering of this version of the PT cast, please visit my Deviantart profile, QCleaf, where I've posted some comics and sketches on this fanfic.