The water tasted like spring. Most of the ice had melted and now floated around the edge of the glass, the shrunken cubes clacking against each other lightly. When she set the glass on the flat rock and left it alone long enough for the water inside it to still, she could see the rising moon reflected on the surface, tiny and fragile even, when fully waxed. The breeze, when it came, was light enough, and the water shallow enough, that the image remained whole. She placed her open palms on the cool stone. The rock sat beneath the towering canopy of a cherry tree, its branches laden with full, pink blossoms. Years ago, lifetimes ago, someone decided to move the rock out of the river, placing the flat, water washed side up. Before the water flowed so quickly nothing clung to the rock; now moss and lichens seemed anchor the bottom to the ground, and hundreds of tiny, red mites crawled over the rock during the day. In the winter, its bulk vanished against the stark, white sky.
"Lovely evening, is it not?" The voice, deep and smooth, suddenly sounded beside her, but Reiko didn't flinch, only shrugged and looked at the moon on the water.
"You could say so. It's also like countless spring evenings before."
The man laughed, and Reiko felt, rather than saw, when he sat next to her, the air becoming momentarily thicker, like a humid summer's day. She only had to close her eyes for a moment and the feeling dissipated.
"Yes, it's much like any other night." He paused, looking towards the sky, Reiko knew, without looking to him. "But then, you could say every day is like the last, every moment an imitation of some other experience." Reiko glanced at him and he smiled. "A rather disturbing thought, hm?"
Rekio simply nodded, and her guest continued.
"Still, who's to say this isn't the most perfect night there is or ever will be."
At this Reiko laughed, a light and uninhibited sound. "I didn't think you were that kind of man."
"Oh? What kind of man would that be?"
"The naïve, romantic kind."
The man didn't rebuff her. "I don't believe I've ever been referred to quite like that." And his smile didn't falter.
Reiko spoke as if her companion had not. "Of course, you could be right. What if tomorrow I fell deathly ill, and then couldn't walk anymore, or if I somehow became blind, and I could remember his night most clearly? Then it really would be the best night, at least for me." She laughed again. "Who knows?" She looked at the glass; a faint ripple perturbed the surface of the water, obscuring the moon, blurring the pink of the blossoms.
"Ah, and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? Perspective. Perception." The water's surface stilled once more. From the water, you can see how tiny the moon and blossoms appear, and yet..." He turned his gaze to the dark sky.
They sat in silence then; the breeze kept a steady strength, the crickets added their chorus to the rustle of leaves and branches, and if she focused, she could make out the faint aroma of sake and the sound of laughter, almost a buzzing sound. In the silver light, the stone appeared white, unnatural, but it had been touched by unseen hands, smoothed and imbued with their power to the point where she doubted water would be able to wear it any further.
"I do dream, though," the man said, his voice soft but still deep. "I dream often."
"Oh. Of what?"
"Paradise."
Reiko laughed. "Paradise sounds horribly dull."
"Wouldn't you like to live in a place where everyone could experience the warmth of the sun? The cool reprieve of the rain? The silver light of the moon, and not have to concern themselves with pain, with war, with hunger and disease?"
"Those things are just a part of life. And I can have all those things right here."
"But there are other things you can't have so easily. A family. A home. Not simply a house. Other people..."
"Humans are selfish, ugly creatures for the most part."
The man nodded. "Some are. Some aren't. Those who aren't don't need to be at the mercy of those that are."
Reiko smiled. "And is that your version of paradise?"
"Certainly."
A wave of her hand. "How boring."
"Oh no. I must disagree." His voiced dropped even lower, but lost none of its energy. The moonlight hit his white haori, and he looked like an apparition. "To ascend to paradise, you must first descend through hell."
"Really? Am I sort of person who would enjoy such a thing?" She spoke with barely enough rising intonation to make a question.
Her guest faced her fully, serene smile on his face. "Of course." He stood then, his clothing pristine. He looked down. "Ah. Look at that. A flower blossom fell onto the water and obscured the moon." The observation seemed to amuse him tremendously. He inclined his head.
"A pleasure speaking to you, as always, Reiko-san. When the time time comes, you'll have seen what I have seen, know what I know, and then..." He left her with that, and a smile.
Reiko made no reply, nor did she turn to watch him go. Instead she looked at the glass. The cherry blossom continued to float on the surface of the water for moments before the petals folded around its center, and the newly formed bud sank to the bottom of the glass, where it sat, seemingly bereft of life, before beginning to glow, a pale luminescence that mimicked the light of the moon.
Reiko smiled. Flower petal indeed. If he'd overlooked something like this, what did he have going for him when he tried to reach paradise? Or perhaps he did see it. Or made it. She looked to the sky, at what she took to be the real moon. If she had to go through hell to prove that paradise was nothing but a charade, so be it. It would be wort it, if only to kill time.
There are no crossovers for these two universes, which surprised me, so I decided to write the first. My plan is just to have a series of loosely connected stories, some of which I might expand upon in the future.