ima mo me no mae ni tsudzuku Now, before my eyes chizu ni nai michi wo lies a path which isn't on the map. zutto aruite-yuku kara So I walk it all the way sono saki no mirai no tame And for the sake of the future it takes me to, egaku Everlasting Story I write an Everlasting Story - "Everlasting Story" (Fushigi Yuugi)
The sunlight was glaring right in my eyes. I wished it would go away and let me go back to sleep. It was much too early to get up! Besides, this was a weekend. No school, right? Right?
Immediately, I was hit with shock and disorientation. Something was off. The room, my clothes, even the air felt all wrong. Just keep your eyes closed. Go back to sleep, and everything will go back to normal, I tried to reassure myself. But it was too late. Between the light and the panic, I was now wide-awake. My eyes opened, almost on their own accord. Right away, I wished I were still asleep.
I was lying on a bed much too large and soft to be my own, in a room I had never seen before in my life. The windows were open, and the breeze blew aside the drapes, letting in rays of sunshine and incomprehensible scraps of conversation.
It felt like every limb, every muscle, every cell of my body was stiff and hurting with a dull, tired pain that would not go away. What'd I do to myself? I shook my head furiously, trying to clear the sleepy, forgetful fog on my mind, and remember what had taken place the previous day. Let's see - I had walked to school with Suzuno-chan, had classes, ate lunch; did normal, everyday things.
I'd also received my scores on the last history exam. They were pretty good, although Suzuno had done better this time around. I wanted to brag about them to Papa, but he was busy. Busy today, busy always, so it seemed. I usually didn't mind so much - he really loved his job, I could tell. He'd often let me look at the old books he brought back with him. It was from him that I got my love of reading and literature.
Still, I wished he would talk to me more often. Just talk. Not about anything particularly educated, or unique, just normal things. School, my friends, his own day. Maybe I would tell him about how Rei-chan had accidentally spilled her tea all over sensei's neat clothing, or about how the boys that were nothing but clowns last year had overnight become human and appealing.
But he had other stuff to do. As per usual. So I stayed out of his way, for the most part. He had left some of his books lying around on a table in the library, with a note saying that I was free to browse through them, if I wanted. At first, none of them seemed particularly interesting. Then, a particular book caught my eye. I didn't know what was so special about it, but it just seemed to call out to me, begging to be picked up and explored.
The book's cover was plain, browned and leathery to the touch, with the title printed dead center. It looked like it was written in Chinese, a language I wasn't particularly fluent in, but could decipher, to a degree. The title roughly translated to "The Four Gods' Sky And Earth". Good enough. It would provide me with something to do, as well as a chance to brush up my skills in a language I didn't normally get much practice in.
I sat down at the table, and made an attempt to read, but every little noise and sight proved to be a distraction, rupturing my concentration. The room was frightfully hot, stuffy, and uncomfortable. At last, I gave up. Picking up my schoolbag, books and all, I left the house, only stopping briefly to tell Papa that I was going out. He didn't give me much of a response - just a nod and a muffled "All right".
It didn't take me too long to reach the destination in mind. There was a corner of the local park where people didn't come too often, due to its unkempt, abandoned appearance, and out-of-the-way location. The plot of land was scruffy, overgrown, and absolutely beautiful. It had become my favored reading spot almost by accident when I was chased there by bullies two years ago, and had, since then become my personal refuge from daily life.
I flopped down on the grass. Worrying about green, muddy stains on my skirt would come later: right now I was just glad for the fresh air and solitude. Finally, I could begin to read in earnest.
The first few pages were blank. The text opened with an intriguing passage:
"Herein is contained the story of a young woman, the Genbu no Miko who traveled to another world, and awakened a god. If you, the reader, choose to read the tale contained within, her story will become your own, and your deepest desires shall be granted."
The situation grew more and more curious by the minute! This was exactly the type of story I would enjoy: one that would allow me to see the world through the characters' eyes. To laugh with them, cry with them, feel with them. To experience the depth of a life I would never be able to live. I often sought such escape from reality, and it was my books and characters, more than anything else, that shaped the kind of person that I was. Too bad I couldn't actually be pulled into the storyline. I mean, one could always pretend, but I was more than old enough to know that such things didn't happen, and even if they did, they certainly wouldn't happen to me.
I turned the page.
The day was getting rather windy. The pages began to flutter in my hands with such a force, I was afraid they were going to be torn out. I felt my hair whipping around, torn free from the ties. I grasped my schoolbag, and stumbled to my feet, clutching the still-open book. Whatever was going on, it was time to go back home, and fast. But the kami had other plans. The wind intensified to an unnatural point where I was unable to move against the almost solid column of air. It was then that I started screaming for help. Why didn't anyone notice or hear? Why did no one come to my aid? The jets of air were now so strong I could no longer keep my eyes open. I was pelted with loose branches and debris until the stinging pain was unbearable. I sank to the ground, trying, and failing, to shield my face, too terrified to even scream or pray. The book slipped from my fingers.
And then, the world shifted under me, and I was falling...
The first thing that came to my mind was that I could not feel the wind anymore. I was curled up into a little ball on the ground, with my bag jammed against my side at an awkward angle. It took my clogged ears a few moments to adjust and realize that there were people talking excitedly all around me. My eyes felt black & blue and swollen, but I forced them open anyway. An overexcited crowd of strangely dressed people surrounded me, every ounce of their attention focused on my form. Immediately, I lowered my eyes, feeling very small and shy.
The people talked among themselves in furtive, hurried tones. They didn't address me personally, but their eyes never left me for a moment. Without warning, one of them placed a hand on my shoulder. I felt every one of my nerve endings fire off in alarm, but fought to keep myself from jumping. Instead, I turned to face the stranger.
He was young, despite the odd, prematurely grey color of his hair. His face was solemn, his silver left eye focused steadily on me. As for his right eye, it was hidden beneath a leather patch. I felt uncomfortable looking at it, and even more uncomfortable with my discomfort. It was as though my hesitation would needlessly remind this almost perfect human being of his one handicap. And he was - almost perfect, I mean. Even the eye patch, and his road-weary clothing did nothing to hide the fact that he was extraordinarily handsome, in a mysterious sort of way.
"Excuse me. Would you mind my asking you some questions?" His voice was even and neutral, betraying neither hostility nor affinity toward me.
I nodded. "I'm Okuda Takiko." I stuck out my hand in greeting, suddenly feeling very young, immature, and stupid.
I could detect an edge of a smile on his face as he briefly took my hand into his own. "Emtato Chen."
He seemed nice. So why were my hands shaking, and the edges of my cheeks feeling unnaturally hot? Why did a niggling aspect of my subconscious whisper of a familiarity, even though I knew for a fact that I had never laid eyes on him before in my life?
"This may sound presumptuous and harsh, but where, exactly, are you from, and how in the world did you get here?"
Good questions, both of them. At least I could answer the first... "I'm from Tokyo. As for how I got here, well..."
I cursed myself for opening my mouth. Was I supposed to say that I got sucked into this place through a dusty old book? Sure, they'd believe me. And the sky might rain emeralds, while we're at it!
I only had a moment to debate with myself before, once again, things spun out of control.
Suddenly, it was like there were two of me. I was still sprawled in the middle of a town square, staring up at the face of the fascinating young man, but another part of me was now simultaneously aware of another locale altogether - the familiar grove of a park in Tokyo. Nothing had changed there. I would have though that the tempestuous gales that had swept me here would have ruined the place, pulling up trees and wreaking havoc among the people. Instead, all was quiet, with only a natural late afternoon breeze swishing through the tall grasses, and the opened pages of my book.
The book! I had dropped it when I was transported here (wherever 'here' was). Who knew what would happen to me without it? Now that I had seen it lying there, abandoned, I could not tear my attention away from it.
As I looked, I felt a chill of deja vu run through me, as the wind picked up. There was nothing supernatural about it this time, only a normal gust, appropriate to the time of year.
It was enough.
The book's pages trembled, then turned.
I barely had enough time to let out a scream, before I was falling again.
I was in a stuffy, official-looking room. There were a few people in it, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to me. There seemed to be a prevailing aura of doom and despair hanging about everyone. No one spoke, or even breathed too loudly. Every once in a while, someone would look my way, but their eyes would never meet mine.
I felt like I should say something, but it felt inappropriate. I wondered why none of them commented on, or even noticed my sudden appearance. I drew in my breath, preparing to shatter the oppressive silence with a question...
And again, the double vision came. The wind blew. The leaves stirred.
And the pages turned.
There was no silence this time, but rather an earth shattering cacophony of clanging metal, whinnying horses, and human screams. I ran, but there was nowhere to run. The field of blood and agony looked like it stretched on forever. Like there was no peaceful land left anywhere in the world, whether or not that was the case.
My foot caught on something, and I went down, my arms and legs scraping on the dry, rocky soil. I was now at face level with the thing that had tripped me. It was a sword, dropped in the heat of battle. At any other time, seeing the blood stained weapon would have made me sick to my stomach, but in the light of the carnage going on around me, it seemed trivial.
I struggled back to my feet. One way or the other, I had to get away from this hell on earth.
I didn't see the sword coming at me, but I certainly felt it, when it sliced into my arm. I had never experienced such pain before. It was only luck that the blow had not killed me. I could feel the blood welling up, and then spilling over from the cut.
I fell back down, and hugged the dirt, paralyzed in fear. For the first time, I found myself praying that the pages would turn again. Take me somewhere else, onegai! Anything else had to be better than this!
And the pages turned.
A forest. Dawn was breaking. The people around the campfire stirred...
And the pages turned.
A comfortable, airy bedroom, with fancy furniture in it. Some woman, a maid, perhaps, moved about cleaning...
And the pages turned.
Darkness. Then light. Someone calling my name...
And the pages turned.
Fields, buried in blinding white. I scooped up some of the snow, and rubbed it against my bleeding arm, more a ritualistic attempt to clean away the blood than an actual medical aid. I had to go on. I had to make it. Despite the pain. Despite the leaden way my body felt. Cold. Too cold. I didn't care. Sleep. Rest. Make the pain and exhaustion go away. Don't feel anymore. Don't see anymore. Just sleep...
And one last page turned. And the book slammed shut.
Info Notes: Hikitsu's real name came from the character info on "Fushigi Yuugi: The Fire Of Suzaku's Wings" (http://www.onewingedangel.com/~suzaku/). And yes, if the description didn't tip you off, the man Takiko spoke to in the third part of this was, indeed, Hikitsu.
Author's Notes: This chapter was much harder to write than the first one, due to the fact that it had to cover a much more varied ground of events. The pacing gave me some trouble, since, in the beginning, there's really nothing happening but setup and exposition, and then, things just spiral out of control, and start going at breakneck speed. I hope I more or less succeeded at giving this chapter the proper mileage. Another Thing: I'm not terribly familiar with Japanese culture in the 1920s, so if anything I mentioned doesn't jive with reality, just mention it, and I'll make corrections.