when the last days come
we shall see visions
more vivid than sunsets
brighter than stars
we will recognize each other
and see ourselves for the first time
the way we really are


--Mountain Goats

(Yami13)

(casting nets in the rain)

Yami no Tenshi

And…

The color of the sky, the taste of bitter apples. Silver as the rain that falls are the nets of forgotten fishermen, like fingers and hands. A ripple, a shining light, a brilliance and a spreading thread of silver and refraction. The taste, at the heart, in the deepest part of the sky where the world can no longer be seen, the bitterest acid. The sweetness of dreams, in the space behind the skull, in the eye that shifts, in the falling upward.

(plunge…)

Those who are lost, who come now beyond even darkness and the idea of darkness, and the sky, the sky

(Takeru, the sky)

or then again the sea.

--

"Ken."

Oh, my God.

And Daisuke stared. Ken smiled at him, in the way of angels, without remorse. His eyes were bright in the radiance, and he shone, his hair burning.

Burning. Everything was burning.

(Takeru, the sky…)

"Hello," Ken said again, and his smile broadened. Daisuke sat up.

"My God…," he breathed. "You—you know me?" he asked tremulously. "You recognize me?"

"I know you," Ken confirmed. "I would know you anywhere."

Daisuke looked up. "But that's impossible," he said.

From the nearest seat the Kaiser regarded him impassively, eyes invisible behind blind lenses. Daisuke inhaled sharply and let the breath out slowly, and shifted where he sat on the ridged metal floor. He looked back at Ken, in the midst of his fiery halo, and swallowed.

"You'd better get off the floor," Ken said. Daisuke nodded dumbly and stood, swaying slightly with the rocking of the train car. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the Kaiser shift slightly on the seat. He turned his head, looked out the window. Downy white grass swept past and the light streamed over and away, pouring out like water over some great distance. Perhaps they were beneath the sea, far below on the bottom of the ocean where the pressure was so great that it squeezed even darkness into light. Perhaps then even Ken's madness had become some kind of delicate sanity.

"It's going to be okay," Ken told him gently.

Daisuke pursed his lips and frowned. "What's he doing here?" he demanded sharply, waving a hand at the Kaiser, still only seeing him from the corner of his eye. Ken shrugged.

"It's a kind of memory," he said mildly. "You know? The way the stars shine, or the color…the color of the stars over the sea. Anyway why shouldn't he be here?"

Daisuke looked down. He had no answer. He'd never really had an answer. Even when he'd thought Ken was his, they'd both been very far apart.

"I thought," he began, and Ken looked at him expectantly. "I thought that it might be different."

"Different how?" Ken asked, and the train rocked suddenly and they both were silent, waiting for the instability to pass. And Daisuke said, "You thought that I was someone else."

At this there was the creak of vinyl and Daisuke realized the Kaiser had sat up sharply. Ken shot him a look, past Daisuke's line of sight.

"Did I?" he asked.

"You called me Takeru."

Ken paused. He licked his lips and Daisuke saw briefly through the beatific calm, to the place inside where stars were still burning in the sky in terrible conflagration. "I made a mistake," was all the pale boy said. Daisuke shook his head.

"No," he said flatly. "No, I don't think you did."

Ken looked at him. "Daisuke! How can you— "

"But it's true, isn't it? You were right all along. It wasn't me you were waiting for."

Ken looked helplessly from Daisuke to the Kaiser. Daisuke held his breath. A full minute passed and Ken said nothing, and in the growing silence Daisuke became aware of a faint perfume, the smell of the sea and distant jungles. But he thought he might have imagined it.

Without warning, suddenly, the Kaiser spoke. His voice was like Ken's, but also it was like oil on the sea, a slick polluting balm, a quiet horror.

"You mustn't blame Ken," the Kaiser said. "You mustn't. He wasn't himself. My fault, certainly. But you mustn't blame him this time, Daisuke. Not this time."

He turned his head, slowly, toward the window and the bright light and the colorless grass, and the dark silhouette poised in front of it. The Kaiser lifted one gloved hand, waved it vaguely in their direction. "These things happen," he said.

Daisuke shook his head and moved away, shifting with the rocking of the train. He fought the urge, the sense of tension, the desire to run, and cast about the train for any small distraction. Ken remained standing, sanguine, and Daisuke gave up finally and sat down heavily in another seat, across from the Kaiser. He tried not to look directly at the apparition.

"I saw you," the Kaiser said quietly, "I know that you were there."

Ken looked from one to the other, unperturbed.

"I saw you," the Kaiser repeated. "I heard your voice over the net."

Daisuke ground his teeth.

I heard your voice over the net.

"Yeah," Daisuke said quietly, "I thought that it was you."

"I kept waiting for something to happen," Ken broke in, with eerie eagerness. "But nothing ever did. Only I thought things might get better if, you know, if I was patient. I thought—"

"Ken," Daisuke said quietly, "Please. Stop."

Ken was quiet. After a moment he came to stand beside Daisuke, then lowered himself into the seat. Daisuke turned his head. Ken reached down and (gently, gently) took Daisuke's hand, wrapped his pale fingers around Daisuke's, and rested his other hand over top.

(Gently…

shhh)

"Daisuke…"

"Where are we going?" Daisuke asked quietly, staring at their entwined fingers, trying not to see. But it was hard. Oh, it was hard.

Ken didn't answer, but looked up, across the way, at the darkness sitting there. At the edge of his vision Daisuke saw the dark head shake. Softly the Kaiser said,

"Sobre tu cementerio sin paredes

donde los marineros se extravían,

mientras la lluvia de muerte cae,

vienes volando."

Ken made a small sound; Daisuke looked sharply at him as the pale boy leaned forward, free hand flitting, coming to press against the side of his head. His other hand squeezed Daisuke's tighter, tighter, until it hurt, and Ken's hair fell across his face. Ken moaned. Daisuke lifted a hand, cautiously, started to reach out, but stopped and looked at the Kaiser.

"The poem is a dedication," The Kaiser said quietly. "A friend of Neruda's, you see. A friend, a close friend." He paused, then said, softer still, "He met his death by drowning."

Daisuke looked at Ken again, still bent over, and cautiously lifted his free hand, but didn't touch. He didn't touch.

--

"These things are a way of life," Takeru said. Miyako looked at him.

"What?"

"Just something Ken said to me, once…" the blonde boy trailed off and stared out the window, and missed Miyako's flinch at the mention of Ken.

"What does it mean?" she asked in spite of herself. She hated to continue this reverie, but…

Takeru shrugged. "Who knows? He was always saying things like that. But that…he said that to me late, towards the end—" He paused. "Toward the end. Before it all went bad."

Miyako bit her lip. Her close friendship with Daisuke had precluded any real discussion with Takeru or even Yamato about the details of the relationship, and about any of the events that had preceded Ken's unexpected switching to Daisuke. She'd tried to remain neutral on the subject but felt that in some way she'd betrayed Takeru, never taking the time even to listen to his story.

"It must have been very difficult," she offered, feeling this was a pretty lame statement, and cold as well.

Takeru looked at her. "It was hard," he said. "Things were bad. Ken…he wasn't himself for a long time. I waited. I tried, I really did. I wanted to make it right for him…somehow. But nothing I did or said mattered, or made a difference. It was just…he was slipping from me all the time and I couldn't get back the person I'd…the one who I loved. He was gone, so fast," Takeru snapped his fingers, "Just like that."

Miyako looked down, shifting slightly. She bit her lip.

"I'm sorry," she offered. "I should have been there…"

Takeru shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have done anything anyway." He looked at her, directly, blue eyes piercing. "How is Ken, these days?"

Miyako paused. She swallowed.

"He's…" she trailed off. It was her turn to look away this time. "Not well. He's—oh, Takeru, I don't know. No one knows. We can't find out, his mother won't tell us anything. Just that he's…he's sick, Takeru. Very sick."

There was silence after that. Takeru sipped at his tea and Miyako tried not to look too uncomfortable. Finally she asked, "What happened, exactly?"

Takeru looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Miyako looked down. "I never heard…how it happened. Only that somehow Ken and Daisuke…that they…"she trailed off and Takeru, after a moment, set his teacup down. The noise was sharp and almost painful.

"A lot happened," Takeru told her. "It—it was bad. When Ken found out about his parents, that they were splitting up…I think that was really the beginning of the end. It was just too much and he was already so fragile. When I found out…he ran to Daisuke, you know. I think it was always his first response…even when we were first together I knew. I was always living in Daisuke's shadow. 'Daisuke wouldn't do this' or 'Daisuke wouldn't ask me that.' It was hopeless, and I think we both knew it, on some level. The idea…the idea that we could even have been together…I don't know. Childish craziness, maybe. Nothing more. It was hopeless all along."

"Oh Takeru…"

"But when I found out…I was upset. I think that's understandable. We fought. I tried to be understanding but Ken…Ken was unreasonable. And if I'd had the brains to see it I'd have seen the hole opening up inside him. Something had been torn out of him, in the pain, and in the guilt he suffered for going to Daisuke like that…but I didn't see. And I—I left. I had to get away, and I did just that."

Miyako said nothing. After a moment she silently poured more tea for Takeru, then sat back.

"While I was gone I thought, a lot. So it seemed only natural when the opportunity to go to Hokkaido arose—I took it. I just couldn't be around…well, around any of this. Even anywhere in Tokyo. It was simply too much. And I was a lot younger then, too." He looked up at her. "I assumed that Ken and Daisuke became…that they were together. But I never asked anyone and didn't want to really know."

"They didn't—" Miyako paused at Takeru's raised eyebrow, took a deep breath and plunged on. "They didn't. At first, I mean, they tried. They did. They took a trip together one summer…but things degenerated rapidly. So fast. Ken just…he fell apart. We all watched it happen. We thought he might—he was dangerous. To himself. To everyone. His Mom yanked him out of school and we didn't really see him or hear from him after that. Ken's father moved to England, you know—"

"Really?" Takeru quirked an eyebrow.

"And then for months and months no-one heard a word. We almost forgot about him. We had our own lives to live, after all."

"True." Takeru turned the cup around in his hands and stared into the pale liquid. Eventually he looked up. "So, you haven't heard anything lately then?"

"Well…" Miyako looked down. She shook her head, hair swinging from side to side. She could almost feel Takeru's questioning look.

"Miyako?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "Whatever's happening now…you don't want to get involved in it, Takeru. It's not going to end well. I can tell…I can feel it. It's bad and getting worse all the time."

Takeru paused, then said, "Is Daisuke involved?"

Miyako looked up.

"I saw him," Takeru told her. "On the platform. Waiting for the train. I saw him go by."

Miyako blinked. "But that's—no, that can't be right."

"Why not?" Takeru leaned forward; there was an eager light in his eyes.

"It's—Takeru, he was in the Digital World."

Takeru stared at her. Whatever he was thinking, Miyako couldn't tell.

--

"Where are we going?" Daisuke asked again. Ken was bent nearly double, hair hanging down bright and shining, hand still gripping Daisuke's like a vise. Daisuke looked to the Kaiser, a challenge on his face.

"Don't know." The apparition (because Daisuke refused to believe it was real) shook his head. And he said, "I don't know and I can't say. Someplace far away, maybe. I think. Somewhere far from here."

But it's warm and you can see the stars. Not like Tokyo.

"Let's go outside,

"Ken," Daisuke whispered. The pale boy raised his head, with difficulty.

"Ken," Daisuke said again. "Let's go outside."