This was inspired by butterfly by ViViD, from their album The ViViD Color. Translation is credited to miso_nya on Livejournal, posted to vividxblog.
Fly to the vivid sky
Higher, to catch tomorrow
Only god learns
Will we ever arrive to the end of this world?
"Once, there was light," he whispered, as they all did, in the dark, eternal night. "Everyone had it, not just the rich in their castles and those that stole candles. It came from the sky, and it was warm and because of it, the world lived."
Konan listened in rapture to the stories, trying to imagine the light of the candle she had once seen, magnified a million times, spreading throughout the world. She couldn't quite do it, and that made her admire Yahiko all the more- he could imagine it, she could hear it in every word he said.
"I'm going to get it back," he would say quietly, never speaking too loud lest they were all heard and discovered, "I'm going to find the light and bring it back. Like the god in the tale."
"What tale?" she asked, and he would always tell it though they both knew it had been told countless times.
"Long ago, man had no light, even less than we have now, and they were lost in the world. No gods took pity on them, except one, a god with the wings of a bird, who decided that he would give them light and free them all from their darkness. He flew higher and higher for uncounted ages, until he reached the limit of the sky. He took his sword and he sliced through the cover that surrounded the world, pulling it all away. There was light out there, softly glowing everywhere, and when the cover had been removed the light spilled onto the world. Man rejoiced, but the god was never to know of their joy, for he was tired from his long flight, and could no longer fly. He fell back down to Earth, but as he fell, the light came with him, and he died knowing he had succeeded at something worth far more than his own life."
"I'm going to be that god," he would declare to end the story, and Konan thought that maybe the reason he kept telling it was to remind himself of what he would do and what it would mean to the world.
They worked in secret, assembling wings by feel, with wax and paper (birds and their feathered wings were never to be found, or they were ripped from your hand by those more hungry and desperate than you). The paper littered the streets, discarded and ignored, for no one could use it but those in their high castles that sometimes spilled out light from a momentarily opened door- no one but them.
Gradually, the wings took shape, and the day came that Yahiko attached them to his arms. "When I return, there will be light. You'll be able to see the world," he told her, and she didn't mention that he hadn't included himself, because this was the price he would pay.
They went out in the open, lost and disorientated with only the ground under their feet to give them a sense of direction. Yahiko needed the room to spread his wings, and they tried to ignore their fear of becoming lost. If you became lost in the ever-present darkness, you would never find your way again, but this was a cause greater than their lives.
He beat his wings once, twice, and Konan could feel the gusts of air whipping around her.
"Goodbye, Konan," he said, calling to be heard over the wind.
He was too loud.
Konan never knew who or what hit him, but the gusts stopped and there was an almost-silent gasp, and a moment later a sickening thud and silence.
She screamed and it echoed around the empty plain, louder than she had ever heard in her life, and she ran to where she knew Yahiko was and took the wings from his limp arms (knowing without checking that she would find no pulse) and put them on her own with swift fingers.
The dream could not die with Yahiko. It was too important for that, more important than either of them, more important than she knew. But Yahiko had known, and that was enough for her.
She beat fiercely and the ground dropped away.
She did not know how long she flew for, only that she was going upwards, to the limit of the sky, to the dream that Yahiko had lived and died for, though really, he had died for her. Everyone knew never to be too loud, lest the monsters that lurked in the dark sate their appetite for death with you, but Yahiko had forgotten that just to call goodbye to her, because he had known he would never come back, would never see the world with her.
Neither of us will see the world, but we don't have to. We are the god of the tale, the god of light.
Her wings clipped against something above her and she angled them horizontally to fly in place, like treading water after falling in a pond. She quickly reached above her and her nails scraped against brittle glass.
She smashed her head into it and there was a dull crack before a chip fell into her face. Again, and now she could feel a gash on the side of her head and knew the glass was breaking. Once more...
It shattered into a million fragments, falling around her like the rain before the rainbow in one of Yahiko's stories.
And there, there it was- the light.
It fell with the shards of glass (painted, she could see now, the same colour as the night that was ending, the night that was gone forever) and she raised her arms towards it.
She could not keep flying. She was too tired.
She fell, her face always towards the light that was falling with her, suffusing the world, and the people below were making sounds of wonder and looking towards the light, looking at the world, looking towards her.
She was the god of light, and she died knowing she had succeeded at something worth far more than her own life.
But I am not the god of light. Yahiko is the god, and I am merely his angel, fulfilling his dream with his wings.
And neither of us saw the world.
The seven-colored dream, while flapping wings
To the way of pouring light
Changing to real, the words I have heard from beyond the sky
Look, the world is showing its face
Look, the future is next to you so
Cross the darkness