The refraction between his sunglasses and the air obscured his view of the landscape at the edge of his lines of sight. Sweat was pooling between his nose and the bridge of the glasses. He pulled them off.
Oh well. It's getting dark anyway.
The harsh light of the day had beat down on them so fiercely; it was almost surprising that it had finally found its match in the long shadows of oncoming dusk. He lounged in the relief that the evening breeze afforded.
This… Surface world. He knew, rather, wished, it would be grand and that their efforts would not be in vain. He did not wish to be wrong.
But here, under the most infinite of all ceilings, Kamina felt overwhelmed and over-filled from the length and breadth of this new place. For the first time, he did not feel about himself the way that other people viewed him. His white-hot flame of charisma and confidence seemed to dissipate around him here, as though his newfound universe of stars and distance was performing osmosis, to make him as least concentrated as possible. The dank, restrictive, yet comforting smell of the caves where he was born was replaced with the clean, fresh and intrusive smell of cold night air and the few fragrant plants that clung to the dry earth amid boulders and sand.
At home, there were no real enemies, just small rivalries. There were cool caves, mining crews, dirt under worker's fingernails; Here, there was unrelenting, inescapable sunlight to which his pale skin was not accustomed, there were burnt shoulders, and there were blistered feet that moved only by will to run from human-hating operators of Ganmen. He had dreamed of a place for his own adventuring and conquering, but instead plunged into a river that surprised him with the pace of its violent current.
The evening did not match his thoughts, though: The girl, Yoko, had handed him a mysterious beverage of water mixed with something else, and the gold of the sinking sun's light swirled through it thinly. A Southbound breeze wound into his skin and through his hair as large insect hummed by his ear, another novelty of being above ground. Kamina wondered, vaguely, if his father had felt as full and small and under prepared as he did. It was hard to imagine that ever-solid personality having a moment of doubt. Even if Kamina had to fake it every moment, he vowed to do for his adoptive little brother what his father had done for him. If he had to, he would hold this entire vast and new canopy of sky on his back, just to keep it from weighing down on Simon.
Father, I swear that I'll survive here. I'll take care of Simon. And best of all, I'll finally find you again. Someday, I promise.
He tilted his head upward toward a sky that was slowly loosening its grip on day and uncovering the first stars of night. All of the others in camp were quietly asleep. Only the wind was there to carry away the jolting rhythm of a singular sob that had not been heard for many a year. The flicker of the campfire's light was caught in the drop that guiltily slid down his proud check and turned his eyelashes into wet triangles.
If I can't believe in myself, please, believe in me instead. That will be all the strength I'll ever need.
The cloth of Simon's sleeping bag swished as he rolled on to his side.
That's all the strength I'll ever have.
