Voices.
Light. Bright light.
She couldn't see anything.
Someone lifted her out of her plane. She thought to resist but was too weak. A blurry face leaned over her, and she could just make out a hard frown and brows knit in worry.
"Daijōbudesuka?" (Are you okay?)
Tadashi…? A young man's face came into focus, but it wasn't her friend.
"Anata wa watashi o rikai shite imasu ka?" (Do you understand me?) he said.
Japanese. Sasori spoke Japanese – so did Tadashi. She struggled to look at the plane – to find Tadashi.
''Īe,'' he protested. ''Īe, miteinai dakedesu." (No. No, don't look.)
She froze. Tadashi still sat in the pilot's seat, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
Tears wouldn't come; her throat went dry, and she couldn't scream. The last thing she remembered before she woke up was Tadashi giving her a sad smile – like he knew this would happen.
"Kanojo o tsuredasu," (Take her out) the young man ordered and handed her off to someone else.
Hours passed in a fog as someone helped her to a medical ward. Strangers gathered nearby, but she still couldn't understand most of what they said.
A woman helped her out of her spacesuit and another offered her some food, which she took. A nurse gave her a quick exam before she rushed to Tadashi's bedside accompanied by a short, stocky old man wearing glasses. The doctor and nurse moved Tadashi, and she couldn't see him anymore.
The curtain rustled, and a black-haired woman in a blue uniform stepped in and offered a greeting in Japanese.
She struggled to reply. "Watashi wa… dokodesu ka?" (Where… am I?)
The woman smiled at her. "Watashitachiha Yamato ni iru." (We are on the Yamato.)
She gathered "watashi" meant "we" and "ni iru" was something like "to be," but "Yamato" …? She heard the word used before and translated "nationalism," but that didn't make sense this time. Wait… Yamato! A legendary battleship – just like Yattaran's model. This must be a ship named after it, and the crew must be from Japan. She stared at the woman – an officer by the looks of the markings on her sleeve, but she couldn't tell her precise rank. "Anata no namae wa nandesuka?" (What is your name?) she asked.
"Watashinonamaeha Niimi Kaorudesu," (My name is Kaoru Niimi) the woman replied. Behind her glasses shone clear, blue eyes.
Which part of that was her name…? She tried to decipher it again, but still couldn't figure it out. "Sumimasen," (I'm sorry) she said carefully. "Watashi wa tadashiku nihongo o hanasemasen." (I don't speak Japanese well.) Sasori taught her that sentence as a joke. She smiled at the memory. Oh, the irony…
"You can call me Kaoru," the woman said in perfect English with a hint of annoyance. "So, you're an Earthling?"
"Of course," she replied, pretending astonishment at the suggestion of aliens. Don't I look human to you? What do you know anyway? I grew up on Earth, and it's my home. She resisted the urge to shiver at the thought of Kaoru discovering the truth about her.
"And what about you? What's your name?" Kaoru asked.
"Oh… I… I don't remember…" She stared at the pristine floor. Was that convincing enough? She sneaked a glance up at Kaoru. Is she pretending to believe me? Is she psychic?
Kaoru's interlocutor chirped. "Looks like the crew decided on a name for you. Doctor Sado wrote 'Maria' in your file, but the consensus is Kazuko."
"Kazuko," she repeated.
"Family," Kaoru offered the translation with a blank expression.
"It is a pretty name," Kazuko replied.
"Yes, it is." Kaoru's voice softened.
"You know, I think it would be easier if you could call me when you need me." Kazuko eyed Kaoru's interlocutor.
The device blinked, and anger flashed across Kaoru's face. "What are you – really? What were you doing out here – the both of you – and how did you get here in that plane?"
"Where are we?" Kazuko shrank away from Kaoru's suspicious face.
"Near the Milky Way." Kaoru narrowed her eyes.
"When?"
"November."
"No –" Kazuko shook her head. "I mean, what year is it?"
Kaoru stared, but her anger faded a little. "2199"
Kazuko sat stunned. Almost eight hundred years ago…