The Long Dark
Chapter 1: Relocation
Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion.
/\/\/\/\
"I think we're almost there."
She wasn't sure if Hikari meant it now, or if she had a different understanding of the passage of distance and time. Sakura did not know where they were headed beyond the name and brief glance at a map before they left the capital. District 20 was a small mining settlement on the edge of the third Tokyo's ninth prefecture, nestled in a crescent of mountains. Being so far south from the frontlines it remained mostly intact, and as such was not a focus of government attention or funds for reconstruction. That was fine, as far as Sakura was concerned. If the way they ran their orphanages was any indication those in power were either corrupt or incompetent.
She turned back to what remained of the world outside the carriage window. After the provisional structures of Tokyo were behind them hours ago there was nothing to look at but ruin. For miles the abandoned trenches of battlefields zigzagged frenetically over scorched earth, covered in tangles of barbwire and pockmarked with deep craters. The distant shells of dead cities ran along the horizon.
Aside from the clop of the horse and the creak of the carriage the world was silent. All flora and fauna were blasted away years ago, and it would be years still before anything returned. But as they travelled farther south signs of life flickered through the blight: husks of shattered trees and skeletal bushes began to dot the land, black birds hung overhead. Then the trees stopped being husks, the bushes defiantly sported buds, grass speckled the earth. The blasted level landscape started to rise and fall into natural hills and valleys. Small dusty animals scurried along the roadside. Birds chirped.
Sakura pushed the carriage window open and poked her head out. The air was uncluttered by gun powder and ash and smoke and people. She breathed deeply. It was unusual but not offensive.
She looked behind them. Nature's reclamation was already crowding out the War's devastation from sight. She looked ahead. More unknown greens and browns waited.
"Sakura," Hikari said, "that's a bit dangerous. Please come back in."
Halfway out the carriage, she relented. She kept the window open for her hand. A soft breeze slipped through her fingers. Hikari frowned at it.
"I saw mountains ahead of us," Sakura told her.
"Oh?"
"They were on the map at the depot before we left."
Hikari made a politely puzzled face.
"I think we're almost there," Sakura said.
"Wonderful. Hopefully we'll make it before sunset. It would be difficult to move in in the dark."
She peeked back outside. Mountains were so big, Sakura thought. Pictures in books didn't do them justice. Seeing the land jut into the sky so far was intimidating.
"District 20 isn't very large," Hikari told her, "but it's safe and peaceful. A soldier I met in the service, Mr. Aoba, was born here. He told me about it."
"He was a soldier?" Sakura asked. "Did he know my brother?"
She smiled apologetically. "Sadly, no. I only met Mr. Aoba during our decommissioning process. I did ask if he knew Toji, though."
"Oh."
"The War spanned most of the country. Hundreds of thousands were conscripted, and most lost their lives. Soldiers often didn't know who they were serving right next to."
The carriage rumbled on. The mountains crept closer as the dirt road stretched onward. Eventually it wound around the side of a wide hill, through trees and brush. It rose above the tree line and District 20 lay before them. It was a crowded village spiraling out from a central bell tower, and up the sides of the surrounding hills. There was no careful civic planning like the newly built capital; here available space was seized and utilized without an overriding vision, resulting in dense twists and surprising verticality. From their distance the settlement had the look of overgrown mold in a shallow ditch.
They descended into the valley. It was dusk, most of the residents indoors as city custodians set gaslight street lamps to ward off the coming dark. The carriage wove through snaking streets of dirt, through a shuttered market, past a post office and by a row of stores to a thin edge of a residential cluster. The sun slipped halfway down the valley walls before the carriage finally halted. The coachman rapped twice on the roof.
"Your stop," he announced.
Hikari smiled and opened the carriage door herself. She turned to Sakura.
"Welcome home," she said.
/\/\/\/\
Home was now a narrow two-story house on a short street of other narrow two-story houses. Low fences surrounded each, marking out thin yards of dusty moss. A public water spigot sat in a small park before the road curved away into the town proper.
They exited the carriage as the coachman began unpacking their sparse luggage. Sakura stretched the soreness from her legs and back. Hikari produced a key from her coat pocket and unlocked a squeaky front door. The first floor was dominated by an open kitchen, with a low partition fencing in a living room and fireplace. Tucked under the staircase to the second was the bathroom. Upstairs were three bare rooms. Hikari paused as they looked into the last one.
"This is your room, Sakura." She handed her a key.
"I have my own room?"
"Of course. I made sure we'd have enough space."
Hikari smiled and quietly made her way back downstairs.
Sakura hesitated at the threshold before entering, working through a sensation of trespassing. A thin futon was curled against the far wall beside an oil lantern. Aside from that the room was empty. She inched along the faded wood floor, turning to see each uncovered wall. One window sat to the left, overlooking the front of the house.
The room was slender; she could leap from one side to the other. It was more space than she ever had to herself.
Apart from the bedding she wondered what she was supposed to do with the room. Did Hikari expect her to fill it with other objects? She remembered the key, clutched in her palm. It was small and old, looped on a string with a tag that read Sakura. She slipped it into her front pocket and wondered at the alien concept of privacy.
She heard noise outside. She tugged the window open, looking down past the porch roof to the street below. The coachman was nearly finished unloading; Hikari directed under the dull glow of gaslight. He lugged the last bag inside and she handed over a sum. Sakura was largely ignorant of financial matters since she never had any money to her name, and wondered if it was expensive to move two people from the capital to the backwoods. She watched Hikari head back inside and left her room for the first floor.
"Can I help you unpack?" Sakura asked as Hikari locked the front door.
"That can wait. We should eat first."
"But the markets I saw in town were all closed…"
"Not a problem." Hikari produced a cloth bag from a suitcase containing bread and fruit. "I did some shopping before we left Tokyo. Um, it's nothing fancy for our first meal in our new home, though…"
"It's better than nothing," she stated, not meaning any offense.
They lit candles and sat on a blanket on the floor to eat. The fruit was too ripe and the bread was too dry. Sakura did not protest.
"We'll start at the academy tomorrow," Hikari told her. "I'm sorry it's so sudden but it's important to resume your education as soon as possible."
A lost cause, Sakura thought. She hadn't learned anything from an instructor in years.
"And," Hikari went on, "I need to start earning a living again."
She was to be the academy's administrative assistant, her clerical credentials from the military securing the job from afar. The true money was in the capital and the service as they rebuilt the country, and the small District 20 jumped at the chance to have her experience.
Sakura was not complaining about moving so far from Tokyo but did wonder why. Hikari left a stable income, family and friends to live as a stranger in a strange land. She asked her if she was sure before they left the depot; Sakura didn't want to be the reason she uprooted her entire life.
Hikari smiled at her: "I think we could both use a fresh start."
Nothing kept Sakura tied to the capital. Even her brother, killed in action, only had a makeshift memorial in a city clearing. His body wasn't salvageable, like thousands of other soldiers. She and Hikari visited the monument wall before departing, constructed to immortalize the defensive last stand so many made.
It was still hard to believe he was dead. She hadn't seen him in person in years, their only contact through sporadic letters. Neither ever had good news to report so the correspondence was mostly reminiscing about better times, or Toji relating stories about their parents, gone before Sakura could recall them clearly, or dreaming of a future neither could see.
The army postal service was unreliable at best, in all regards but one. Personal mail was haphazardly delivered but death notices to families were sent out with the strictest adherence to timeliness. She knew what the plain manila envelope was before opening it, holding the basic stationary's nothing weight that informed her Big Brother Toji died in battle, without divulging any relevant information about the when, where, how or why. Only that the government was grateful for his conscripted service against the invading Host.
The following months were a haze, from the waning days of the War, to the Armistice, reconstruction beginning, and then Hikari visiting the orphanage early last week to introduce herself as her sister-in-law.
Toji never mentioned a bride, or a girlfriend in his letters; Sakura wasn't suspicious, just curious. It was strange to imagine her brother growing and changing, let alone finding a mate, in her absence. Hikari explained the two of them wed in secret since her family did not approve of Toji. That sounded entirely too plausible to Sakura. With no other relatives, she accepted Hikari's offer to become her guardian.
She and Toji weren't married long before he died. Hikari had no time to feel joy before mourning as a widow. They might not know each other, Hikari told her when they met, but Toji loved them both and that had to mean something.
Staying in Tokyo his empty grave's shadow would forever be over them. Sakura knew he wouldn't want the people he loved to be burdened with sorrow and regret, especially people whose only connection was through his death. Maybe a fresh start was indeed in order.
They finished dinner and unpacked a few necessities. Hikari suggested they break, hoping for a good night's rest before tomorrow. They headed upstairs and she lingered at her door.
"Goodnight, Sakura. Welcome home."
"Goodnight."
Sakura shut her bedroom door. The crescent moon glowed in her window over the street. She unfurled the futon over the rough floor and collapsed. She stared up through the dark at the ceiling. The silence was eerie. It was the first time in five years she slept in a room that was not overcrowded with human misery in creaky bunk beds.
She shut her eyes and listened to her breath, waiting for fatigue to overwhelm her.
"I'm home," she said. "I'm home."
/\/\/\/\
"Welcome," the woman greeted them with a bow at the door of the academy the next morning. "I'm the headmistress, Maya Ibuki. Pleased to meet you."
Hikari and Sakura returned the formality, and were ushered inside. The girl's academy sat on a flat hill at the town's edge, rising above the encroaching forest to the west. It was old, converted from a private library when the owner lost his fortune in failed overseas ventures. Shelves of books still ran along the floors. It retained an air of wealth in its design, although faded from heavy use.
"This way, please," Maya said. She was prim and proper, dressed conservatively with matching mannerisms. She was polite, but made sure everyone knew who was in charge.
She led them down a short front hall to a faculty office made a maze by a series of long clerical desks. Most were filled by other women hard at work. Maya directed Hikari to hers, already crowded by financial reports and personnel files.
"Looks like I arrived just in time," she half-joked.
Maya smiled in apology. "Please excuse the mess. We just finished midterms."
"I look forward to starting." Hikari surveyed her job without malice, then stopped and turned to Sakura. "Have a good first day."
She made to hug her, then didn't. After a moment she sat at her desk and Maya ushered Sakura out to a side office for registration. The headmistress managed to keep from tearing up too much during her family and educational history. Regaining composure, she led Sakura to her class.
They left the faculty wing for two large lecture halls on either side of a passage leading outside to a yard. Every girl in town was educated here, Maya explained, with classes split between teenagers and preadolescents. She paused before entering the door marked 1-B.
"We'll get a uniform for you by the end of the day, as well as the appropriate texts. I apologize, but please look on with another student until then."
"I should probably apologize," Sakura guessed. "We didn't give you much time to prepare."
"Nonsense," Maya soothed. "I'm delighted you're so dedicated to your education you wanted to begin school immediately after moving."
What stories has Hikari been telling people? she wondered.
Maya rapped on the classroom door and entered with her, addressing the students. There were a fair number of other teenagers in attendance, all watching Sakura with gleeful interest. She was an immediate novelty, a transfer from the capital.
"I'm Sakura Suzuhara," she introduced with a modest bow Hikari drilled into her. "Pleased to meet you."
The teacher, a bent, wiry woman, preempted the thousand questions from her pupils and ordered silence. "Ms. Suzuhara, take a seat and look on with a neighbor. Ms. Ibuki, thank you for your time…"
"Oh, yes," Maya said and turned to leave, offering a quick smile to Sakura. "Carry on."
The door shut and the teacher swatted her desk with a dark wooden switch. "Let's resume the day's lessons. Dealing gracefully with unwarranted distractions is part and parcel of a young lady's existence. And I will mold you all into fine, upstanding ladies. No one, in the big cities or the smallest hamlet, is excused from proper manners."
She proceeded to detail the correct way to accept a cup of tea for the rest of the morning.
Sakura stared. Is this for real?
Class broke for lunch. Away from the teacher's imperious gaze nearly every girl in the room spun on the new transfer. At least most of them were smiling. She tentatively returned it.
"Uh, hi," she tried.
"You're really from the capital?" one asked. "I never would have guessed from your clothes."
Sakura's smile became a shield.
"It's kind of weird to move to our district, especially from the capital," another began.
"The capital is where all the money and important people are going to be," her friend continued.
"Is it true your guardian was kicked out of the army?"
"What?" Sakura asked.
"Like, that's why you had to move here? You ran out of money?"
"I… No, we just thought it would be a good place to live." While it was true resource allocation favored the capital and the surrounding areas, it was hardly a luxurious paradise. Was it common for small town residents to conjure such fantasies?
"Good and boring," one girl stated. "There's nothing to do here."
"And this school is obsessed with social etiquette we'll never use. None of us are rich."
"Maybe if we lived in the capital."
"Which, again, is why it's so weird you moved here. You know, Suzuhara?"
"Hey, do you know anybody else in the army?"
"Not anymore," Sakura answered.
The teacher returned to end lunch. She was relieved.
The afternoon was consumed with putting the morning's lessons into practice. Each girl was given a tea cup filled with water and told to accept and drink. The teacher stalked the rows of long desks, switch in hand, to correct any unladylike actions. A girl with glasses took too much liquid, resulting in an audible gulp. The teacher swatted the back of her hand with the switch. The girl winced but did not make a sound, while managing not to spill anything.
Sakura nearly dropped her own cup watching on.
"Ms. Suzuhara," the teacher began, eyeing her, "I have no doubt your education to this point has been unique, but your background only enhances my resolve to teach you properly. Please make the effort to learn, as your classmates do."
She returned to overseeing her lessons and Sakura did her best not to laugh. What kind of school was this?
/\/\/\/\
Thursday was gym day, scheduled for final period. While the academy sat on a decent plot of land only a small, fenced area with two badminton courts was devoted to sports. The courts were in a clearing overlooking the woods behind the school, shielded from the city by a jutting wing of architecture. Sakura was thankful for a break from the inane lessons indoors but she held higher hopes for what constituted a gym class.
A thin girl twisted her ankle during a match and made sure everyone knew about it. The teacher rushed her to the infirmary, putting their class representative in charge. Order promptly broke down. Most of the girls sat by the fences to talk. Those that heeded the rep's timid instructions crowded the courts haphazardly for safely chaotic free-for-alls.
Despite the injury to the thin girl, badminton was far too tame for Sakura. It was, as she understood it, purposefully harmless, a game without serious aggression or risk designed to preserve their femininity.
What a waste of time, she thought, looking on alone from the sidelines.
The teacher was fond of scolding her for attacking the birdie with too much force, causing her opponents to cringe away as if she was serving bullets over the net. Her hopes of toughening up her classmates remained wanting.
She expected a difference in the makeup of girl here but not to such a degree. Their interests, their mannerisms, their posture, even their speech was radically removed from her own. Their melodramatic interpersonal intrigues were impenetrably silly, just as the classes were impenetrably boring. But she would choose impenetrable over unpleasant. This school existence felt surreal, like a brief dream of calm after the nightmare reality of the War.
"Hey!" one girl called out from the fence. "There's someone down there."
"Kyah!" another cried with emoted terror. "It's a boy!"
She was immediately crowded, students pressing close for a view from safety. Although a mining town, young men were a rare curiosity. There was currently no boy's academy; the vast majority of males in District 20 were either preadolescent or too deep into adulthood to matter. The war effort claimed the young and poor.
"I haven't seen him in town before…"
"Maybe he's an escaped criminal?"
"He's way too young to be a criminal."
"Hey, he's cute."
The last thing they should do is encourage some deviant on school premises. Sakura rose to summon a teacher, who could summon a police officer.
"Eh? Why is he moving like that?"
"Is he hurt?"
"Blood! I see blood!"
Sakura looked past them beyond the fence.
The boy hobbled along below her on a narrow natural pathway between the forest and the edge of the hill. His steps were slow and uneven. His clothes were dirty and torn. There were indeed traces of blood on him. His movements were distracted and weary.
He finally noticed the commotion above him at the court. The discovery of over a dozen young women hooting at him appeared to startle more than excite as he worriedly looked between them.
For a moment their eyes met, and Sakura saw a depth of blue she imagined the ocean was like.
Her classmates watched in shock as she unlatched the fence door and descended the hill. The land jutted away from the court, and the boy could not see Sakura's approach until she was right beside him.
He turned to flee and tripped over a network of tree roots. He tripped and rolled, coming up quickly to limp away, absently clutching a bloody left forearm.
"Wait," she called out.
Despite himself, he did. He stood still, averting his eyes, awaiting reprimand.
She looked him over. "You're hurt," she said.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
Sakura frowned. She grabbed hold of his shirt collar and led him back up the hill to the badminton court. The rest of her scandalized classmates backed away, watching and whispering.
"Suzuhara's quite bold."
"Are all city girls this aggressive?"
They entered the school. Sakura found the auxiliary nurse's station, a slim room with a single bed by a cabinet of supplies. She could feel the lingering stares of her classmates and shut the door behind her.
"Sit," she ordered, ushering the boy to the bed. He obeyed.
She appraised him. Most of the wounds looked superficial, small cuts and scrapes picked up from traversing a dense wood. Some, like the one on his arm, were fresh, oozing bright red. Many were scabbed over. His clothes were dirty and rumpled. There were two twigs in his hair. She idly plucked them out.
The mud and dirt and blood on his clothes did not obscure how finely tailored they were. They were not a normal family's tattered hand-me-downs or a state-sanctioned uniform. Sakura again frowned at the boy for being so careless with such fine raiment. He kept his eyes down.
"It's dangerous to wander around like that with injuries," she told him. He accepted the admonition silently.
She knew how to dress wounds. The orphanage was effective in some lessons. She found a roll of clean bandaging cloth in the cabinet. She tore a length off, wet it with her tongue, and began cleaning.
"I'm Sakura Suzuhara," she introduced herself.
"Hello."
She cleaned. The boy was tall and slim. He was tensed, like a stray wind would bowl him over.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"… Shinji."
She waited. "Can you tell me your last name, too?" She waited a longer time. "Okay. Mr. Shinji it is."
She finished cleaning all the skin she could see. Dirt and grime did not appear to be familiar with him. His skin was clean and soft. His complexion was clear. His hair looked silky to the touch. Sakura was pleased with her efforts, and set to bandage his injuries. He did not wince or complain.
"… This is the best I can do here," she told him as she worked. "I'm not a doctor. There should be someone in town that can attend to you more thoroughly if you need."
Shinji nodded vaguely. "No, this is fine. Sorry for being a bother. I'll be okay."
She very much doubted that. Sakura finished wrapping his arm and tied the bandage off at the wrist. Her fingers lingered a moment. The slender weight of his forearm trembled.
"What were you doing out there?" she finally asked.
He looked at his feet. He was silent.
The station door opened, and Hikari and Maya Ibuki entered.
"Sakura!"
"There is a boy here," Maya murmured, staying put at the door's threshold. Behind her a swarm of students jostled for a peek. She recalled her professional demeanor and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.
"What on earth are you doing?" Hikari demanded. "You can't bring some strange boy into a girl's academy."
"He was hurt," Sakura stated, pointing to the wads of dirty bandages on the floor. She stood and put a step's length between her and Shinji.
"Then you get the nurse or a teacher—"
"Everyone else was busy. There wasn't time to go looking for the proper authorities. What's the big deal?"
"This is supposed to be a safe, secure site for the girls of this town," Hikari told her, striving to keep her tone in check. "You can't simply invite unknown danger into it. Oh, and we just arrived here…"
Shinji shrank on the bed. Sakura glanced him over. Dangerous was not the word that sprang to mind after inspection.
"He was hurt," she repeated. "I didn't think it was very ladylike to ignore him. That's what this school is all about, right?"
Hikari let that slide. "Well, he cannot stay any longer."
"I didn't ask him to move in here." Sakura paused only a moment. "He could stay with us," she volunteered.
"Absolutely not!" Hikari said, narrowly beating Maya to decry the idea.
"The house has enough room if we convert a space on the second floor—"
"It's not… It's not appropriate," she explained. "I-I mean, we don't even know who he is."
All eyes fell on him again. He looked away.
"We can't just send him out into the streets like this," Sakura said.
"I'm sure the police station could see to him for a few nights," Maya began, having recovered a degree of sense but still battling a panic attack.
"No." Shinji bolted to his feet. He stepped towards the door but was unwilling to push past the women. "N-No, I don't want to bother anyone else. I'll be okay on my own."
Sakura blocked his path, holding her hands up. "Okay, okay. Calm down. You're still injured. We'll think of something, alright?"
Hikari watched on with worried confusion. She sighed. "I know someone in town. He might be able to help."
/\/\/\/\
His house looked like a pawn shop. Tall shelves filled with eclectic trinkets lined each wall, mementos from across the country spanning a wide array of interests. Worn books, small sculptures, music boxes, clocks, pipes, steins, dishes, and a scattered collection of musical instruments. Shigeru Aoba apologized for the clutter when they arrived; it all belonged to his parents, who left him the house. He didn't strike Sakura as the sentimental type. Maybe he was simply too lazy to clean it out.
For the past two days Shinji stayed with Aoba, and for the past two days after school Sakura visited to keep an eye on him. It dawned on her the situation was her responsibility. She made sure to thank Aoba and Hikari for offering a temporary solution. She made sure to tell Shinji to, as well.
"And don't go wandering off," she warned him.
Aoba was employed in the settlement's mine, his shift lasting sunup to sundown. Once classes concluded at the academy Sakura and Hikari met him on his way home. They all arrived on the second day to music. Shinji sat at a weathered upright piano nestled between a pair of cramped shelves. Several tattered books of sheet music sat on the stand, unopened.
"At least he wasn't bored all day," Aoba said, closing the front door behind them.
"Thank you again," Hikari told him. "I know this is a lot to ask."
He shrugged. "It's not terrible to have someone waiting for you at home. And he's quiet, doesn't make a mess, hardly eats a thing… You definitely could have found worse houseguests for me."
"I'm glad he isn't causing too much trouble. But this can't last forever."
Shinji continued on the piano.
"The kid's good," Aoba remarked, almost proudly. "His skill speaks of professional training, along with natural talent. I'm a touch jealous. Where on earth did you find him again?"
"He was lost outside the academy," Hikari said. "We were hoping he'd tell you more."
"He'll talk about music. I haven't pressed him on anything else." He watched Shinji play. "He'll come around."
The adults wandered into the kitchen for coffee and Sakura found herself behind Shinji. She peeked over his shoulder to watch him play. His fingers glided across the keys with effortless proficiency to produce a fluttering of notes. She imagined a bird flitting between trees in the sunshine.
She was musically innocent, never possessing serious means of access. She had no say in the matter, and along with the private shame of her clumsy excuse for manual dexterity, told herself she wasn't missing anything important. It was nothing but arranged noise.
But when Shinji played it was not obnoxious, or dull, or perplexingly abstract. He made it accessible without cheapening it. His was a natural, easy skill that communicated enjoyment. Watching Shinji's hands delicately swim over the keys was like magic.
"You're good," she echoed Aoba, although in truth she had little to compare him to.
"Thanks." He tried to sound grateful.
"It's hard to play without sheet music, right?"
He shrugged, trying to make the generous inference disappear. She waited. He relented.
"It's a song I learned a long time ago," he told her. "It's just memorization."
"It's more than I can do."
Shinji's discomfort increased. Reacts poorly to praise, she noted, again. She let him continue in peace and looked around the cluttered room. A couch against the wall was made into a guest bed for Shinji, the books that usually sat all over it crammed beneath. A small coffee table was absorbed with a variety of tools. Resting on the top of the piano was a framed photo of Aoba and another man with short dark hair and glasses, both in military uniform. Sakura recalled Hikari mentioned he was a soldier.
"Do you like it here with Mr. Aoba?" she asked Shinji.
"It's not a bad place."
"That's not a ringing endorsement."
"I've never been somewhere like this. I don't know if I like it."
She frowned. "Well, do you like Mr. Aoba?"
Shinji brightened a degree. "He's letting me stay here, so… I mean, he's quiet, but not unfriendly. He knows a lot about music. He told me things I never heard before."
"Okay."
"Mr. Aoba said music was good. That playing it for people was like a gift." He stopped playing and stared at the weathered keys. "There's nothing else I can do."
Sakura sat beside him on the piano bench. He nearly jumped into the air.
"It's a start," she told him. "If you don't think there's anything else you can do right now, then do what you can. Start from there and keep trying."
She sought out his night ocean eyes. She smiled at him. After a moment, he smiled back.
/\/\/\/\
Hikari, Sakura realized on Sunday, was not a morning person naturally. She needed a tall mug of black coffee to adopt her alert persona before noon. So when they woke up and discovered the house was out Hikari grumbled the command they were getting some from the market.
They made their way from the residential blocks into the city, arriving at the main markets just as services were ending. The street became noisy and densely packed, segregated into long lines for each store. Sakura peeked around a burly old man in front of them.
"This'll take a while."
Hikari lost all pretense of fending off misery. "I just want some coffee."
The line inched forward.
"We're not far from Mr. Aoba's place," Sakura led. "You could get coffee there."
"That would only solve today's shortage. We'll get there soon enough. It isn't going anywhere."
A mother ahead of them dropped her coin purse and tried to collect the fallen money while corralling her two sons. Hikari looked like she wanted to scream.
"Why don't I go on ahead?" Sakura posed.
"Mr. Shinji will survive without your supervision."
She couldn't tell if that was the lack of coffee talking or her usual disregard for Shinji. Her guardian remained wary of him since they met. Even after spending time with him and hearing Mr. Aoba's gentle praises she was unable or unwilling to shrug off her initial impression. He seemed destined to forever be the dirty runaway boy invading their school and life.
"We're already late."
"Sakura, it'll be fine—"
The mother ahead of them gave up on her place in line after her boys escaped her grasp to run towards a toy shop. Everyone remaining repositioned as she left. Sakura let herself be pushed from the crowd.
"I'll meet you at Mr. Aoba's," she called to Hikari over the heads of a dozen other shoppers.
Stuck between losing her own spot in line and looking after her ward, pre-coffee Hikari stayed put. "Be careful!" she told Sakura, and she was off.
The street to Aoba's house was narrow, lined with fenced walkways and sheer building faces. It was a short, straight walk from the market. Despite the city's twisted architecture Sakura found navigation less treacherous than first imagined. There were many high points to gain sight vantage across the valley, and streets were clearly labeled. Other pedestrians were quick to offer a polite direction if you asked or not.
Aoba's house was a squat two stories with an unattached shed on a dusty plot between a tall two-family home and a watch repairman's shop. Only the shed hinted at his ownership of the home. It was rustic, well-used, its paint faded and chipped. Dirty windows displayed tools, and several ladders of varying lengths hung by hooks on an outside wall. The house itself was quaint and cute, with embroidered drapes and window boxes for potted plants.
Aoba sat on the front step, looking more out of place next to it than usual. He was slouched against the door, staring out at nothing, a bent cigarette hanging off his bottom lip as a thin stripe of smoke curled away overhead.
"Good morning, Mr. Aoba," she tried with a cautious wave.
With a delayed reaction he met her eyes. "Sakura. Morning."
Aoba wasn't a person she would describe as boisterously friendly. But she expected more than that.
"Is everything okay?"
With a lurch he sat forward, sucking the rest of his cigarette to the end, and ground it into the dirt at his feet. He came back to himself. "Take a seat."
She settled beside him on the cold step. His appearance wasn't indicative of depression or sadness, but he was obviously troubled. Sakura waited for him to speak and realized she did not hear music from inside his house.
He told her early that morning, before the rest of the town was awake, before the church services began or the sun was visible over the mountain ring, a man with a police escort arrived at his doorstep to claim Shinji.
"He's…"
"You missed saying goodbye to him by a good three hours."
Sakura bolted to her feet without knowing why and stared down at him. "You just let him leave with a stranger?"
"Shinji didn't object. He went willingly. I didn't kick him out." Aoba fished another cigarette out of his shirt pocket along with a match.
"Still…!"
"I'm not in a position to fight the police, or Shinji's wishes."
The world spun. Sakura balled helpless fists. "Where did they take him?"
"They wouldn't say." He lit the cigarette but hesitated against his lips. Aoba watched her frantic despair. "If he really was a runaway it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Look, I'm sorry. But this was always a temporary solution."
"I know that," she bit out. She couldn't stand still. "I know that."
"He seemed like an okay kid. He told me to tell you, 'thank you.'"
Sakura slumped. She felt exhausted and collapsed back on the front step. "Was the person Mr. Shinji left with nice?"
Aoba blew smoke out in a slow ribbon. He gazed down the street. "The guy that collected Shinji was a Collaborator."
"What?"
"Defectors from the Host army during the War. They were given special consideration after the Armistice to do, well, pretty much whatever they want." He sucked on his cigarette. A hint of his lost stare returned. "I never thought I'd see one way out here."
"So… What?"
"I guess I didn't explain it well. Collaborators were invaluable resources. The only reason they're here is because they gave intel or technology to the army in exchange for their freedom. They sold their own kind out. Nothing good will come of associating with them. Or with anyone near them."
His tone communicated he was done talking. Sakura watched his cigarette burn away, tickling the edges of his fingertips. She didn't want to believe him. But at least regarding the War he knew more than she did. Still, Shinji ran away from that Collaborator, and had to have a reason for it. Why did he return without a fight? Didn't he know they were dangerous?
The idea struck her. Was Shinji in danger now? Was that why he ran away? Sakura's fists rested heavily on her knees. She could save him from a few bumps and bruises but was powerless to do anything else. All she did was passively watch from the periphery. When her parents died. When her brother died. When the majority of the country died. All she could do was keep her head down and survive, waiting until someone rescued her.
Sakura squeezed her fists. They felt tiny and weak. She burned with a sense of futility and looked to the sky. Past the rough shingled edges of houses and the spindly church bell tower. Past the ridges of the surrounding mountain peaks. She looked up into a vast, alien blue, unknowable and untouchable.
Mr. Shinji, she thought. Where are you?
/\/\/\/\
End of chapter 1
Author notes: Despite the title, this story won't be long at all. I planned out six chapters.
Next chapter: You are cordially invited to an afternoon of tea and leisure at the Soryu Estate.