Nobuo Uematsu - Dear To The Heart

...

Home. I'm finally home.

And someone has been awaiting for me.

Isn't that why we, soldiers, always want to come home? Such a pleasant thing to do, isn't it? I'd stay out home all day, if there wasn't anyone to care about. I leave the sheath with my sword, helmet, shoulder pads in a corner. To be fair, I threw them away faster as I could. The less it takes to put away the weight I carried on this entire day, the better. And how I feel better. Sweaty, a bit tired, but after feeling the scent of those carrots, hearing the knife cutting them... no cries upstairs, as well. My boys do not need to cry, their father is once agaim home, together of the mother.

— Ohh, soft! – like butter. Got Learie from behind. She gasped, and I thought my cheeks would turn red with a slap of her hands.

— Dan!?... Oh, what a surprise – I can feel the scent of boiled meat together of Learie's own perfume. And I had to ruin it all with my sweaty body. Well, my skin better sweaty than shedding of any blood.

— How I've missed you, darling – and how much you've grew up. My mind is somewhere else when I think about... uh, I always bring dirt to home. And for Learie, well... I share of my dirt, and a special massage on the chest.

— I know – she smiled. I hope you don't mind any tickles – hey! I've missed you too, Dan... hahaha!... stop. Oh, stop! Please!...

— Okay – enough fun already – let my hands be yours, how's that?

— That's very kind of you – I'll be cutting the carrots in your place, Learie – so, how was your day?

— It was a good day.

— How much good?

— You know, the unusual good.

— Meaning?

— Well, I came back home. For me, that's already a good thing – it feels so good to smell around her. I mean, the kitchen.

— Anything else?

— You mean, if I had to fight? No. Just words. They can be sharp as the tip of my blade – heh, who said that I didn't pulled the sword out its sheath today?

— Dan...

— Come on, darling. There's only two of us – yet, somehow, I feel like I'm being watched. By holes in the wall – Freya? – or, in this case, by holes out a helmet.

— Uh... yeah. Only you two – I think I heard footsteps coming down the stairs before. Now I feel ashamed, oh my... – uh... nevermind. I'm outta here.

— Already leaving? – Learie asked, and even thought I'm ashamed, I can't let her go. Reminds me of the day we've glued our hands with glue – won't you stay for dinner?

— I will – Freya stares at me with a cold look. Caught me in the act, and she's judging me as if she was my mom. Kinda reminds me of Lenneth a few times, must be that – there's so much to do. Take the clothes out the line hanging outside, cut the tall grass, fix the fence... I can't believe you let your husband treat you this way, Learie.

— Which way? – most the time, I am too tired to do anything at home, leaving it all to Learie. That doesn't mean I mistreat her. Why would I, if it's so much better to hold her carefully?

— Oh, you don't mind – Freya is like that kid who closes it eyes whenever an adult kisses one another.

— I'd do anything for you if I had the time and strenght, my dear – I admit it's kinda disgusting, only when you think about what crawls upon the skin.

— Being at home is fine for me – Learie's cheeks are soft and red as apples – and them too – then I hear cries from above. Someone else is demanding of Learie's attention.

— Have you finished exchanging germs to one another? – and someone here feels its not being given enough attention, despite wearing red.

— Well, Freya, would you like to see your nephews? – so I let go of Learie, as I walk upstairs.

— I'd rather not. But if you insist...

— I'm not insisting.

— I know. Wash your mouth before you enter in contact with any of the kids — oh, someone here is feeling envy today. I don't blame you, Freya. Seeing your childhood friend married with your cousin must be... I mean, Learie and I were trading spit to one another since little. She was so fun, I even forgot the reason why I hated girls. Maybe it's because they mix with our heads. In a good way. Nah, girls do more than that. If it wasn't for Learie, I would be dead. There's no better way of saying. But looking at the littles, I try to find a better way of saying without scaring them, while being truthful and warm.

— I never thought of being a father. Am I good enough? I'm not even here most the time.

— Now you are.

— Yeah. That's what matters, isn't it? – I take Adam with me, while Jack stays on the crib. He holds those bars with its tiny hands, stares at me and ever since he learned to open the eyes, does nothing but stare. I think he stares at me and Learie on our sleep. He sleeps like a fish, a cute fish... Cute. Thanks to Learie, I learned to say this word without feeling less man – uh, Freya? Mind if you...?

— Hold? No, Dan. I cannot.

— You don't know how to hold a baby? – Jack needs a bit of attention too.

— I do, but I'm worried that I might let them slip out my arms.

— Babies aren't slippery as soap – they do make bubbles come out their mouths and nose easily.

— No, please. It'll be my fault if I let them fall. Oh, I don't like to think about it. What a sin.

— Indeed – I feel for you, Crescent. I also felt same on my first time. The feeling of hurting these little beings is something that can't be forgiven – don't worry. That's why I'm giving one for you to hold.

— Okay, okay – said Freya, reaching out for my child. Something about the way babies look at us frighten me a bit. It's like they're smarter than they pretend to be, and are judgind us all time. They look cute, we say they're cute, and they think 'what a dumb'.. weird – why are you laughing?

— His name is Jack. I named him after your brother, you see.

— I see. What's so funny about it?

— Seeing you hold little Jack in your arms... know, Freya, you were always older than us, and we called you bug. Freya means lady, right? So we called you ladybug.

— And you the lord of flies – she remembers. And smiles, frowns, look sideways, a bunch of expressions. I think that's why I envied girls a lot, they do have much to express.

— So, how was your training? – I hope Fratley got slighter wit her.

— See my hands?

— I see nothing.

— Yes. Let me tell you, Dan, about my day...

...

Five hours ago

...

...THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP!

— ...Heart pumps blood to all directions. When you breathe, you make the blood move around your body. It's something more complex can I explain in a few words, but that's it. Sponges and starfishes regenerate lost tissue faster than other animals. Even lost limbs can be brought back, isn't that fascinating? Heard me, Freya?

— ...Now you're gonna tell me that oysters can swin.

— And they do – Freya... all she does is punch the trunk. With her bare fist, knees, kicks... I wonder if she's been hearing what I've said. I live by words.

— Go to the point already, Sir Fratley – she does hear me – my hands are beginning to go numb.

— Use your knees.

— So do my knees.

— Then use your legs.

— I've wasted my legs enough – I feel trembling at her voice, shivers across her skin, flowing like the raindrops. A rushed kick, the sound of cracking, and – damn, how long will it take for this cherry tree to come down? If I really tried

— You've had enough for today.

— Indeed – I try to locate her figure, but all trees around are so tall. Then I smell blood, and I know where Freya is. As if I didn't already knew she was standing near the cherry tree. A cherry without any blossoms... hard to tell, isn't it? – pant, pant, pant, pant... Now you're going to say that I'm hasty, right?

— Why would I say so? – I try to find her hand. As if she could raise it on her own by now... – you did a good job. I thought it would take a whole week until you've reached this far.

— Pant... It hurts... hurts a lot... – lost tissue, dead skin and dead bark – I...I don't want to look at my hands. Not before you... you know, heal them

— I... I'm impressed by what you're capable of – the pain of a whole week at hands, how is she able to handle that?

— Doubting of my strenght?

— Not even a bit – Freya breathes like she just came out of earth. It's kinda distracting. Look at me, surprised by breathes, but those hands... if those were the first pictures I had of hands after I lost my sight, I'd be horrified ever since. Nothing seems to shock me enough.

— What's up, Sir Fratley? – she asks, while I attempt to concentrate.

— Uh... nothing.

— You seem shocked.

— Wouldn't you be if you could hear the amount of platelets clotting around a wound? – an aura of green surround us both. If it ain't green, it reminds me of. I like to imagine the green, green grass of home. Imagine colors, shapes, best thing for a blind kid to do to feel secure, as a passtime...

— Can you?

— No. There are things in this world not even I can hear – ...hear the wings of thrushes migrating to south at night by the window. Always night. Right, where I was? Yes, treating Freya's wounds, that's right – I avoid standing near pregnant women. Can't avoid hearing two, three, nine heartbeats at once. Maddens me.

— So you can tell if a girl obeyed her parents or not?

— Eh... – I think I meant to say a 'yes', but feels so awkward to say anything. Funny, when I was young, hearing those two heartbeats, one inside another, I believed that women ate their own children. Not all imagination I had made me feel any better – well, I'm done.

— And what you did exactly? – Freya asked, as she stands on her own.

— Do you breathe?

— Huh? Is that a question?

— Really, do you breathe?

— Why, of course I do – I think I'm relying too much on the wise man's persona – anything to do with my breathing that made my skin, muscles and flesh coming back?

— Rei's Wind. It's how it's called by – honestly, I can't stop showing off how smart I am – the breath of life, your own breath converted into healing energy.

— So, all I had to do was breath in a specific way in order to heal my wounds, simple as that?

— Not any breath. To put it simple, I made you breathe in a very special way – and so I insist to explain it all, even if Freya already figured it out. Looking at me like that, crossing hands – let me explain. As you may know already, breathing has to do with your blood. After all, your blood is what moves oxygen from your lungs, same blood has to do with the cells in your body. And those cells make up your body as a whole. I shared of my breathing pattern, close as the one Reis discovered by herself during her exile at the mountains. It's hard to breath in high altitudes, there's less oxygen in the air as you go up, close of the stars...

— I like how you go from simple explanations to lucid talk – and look who arrived.

— How are you doing, Hrist?

— I'm doing well, Fratley. It ain't everyday you break the floor with your hair.

— Or break someone's hands with the power of fixing it – said Freya. Following Hrist, they both stare at me with same stare, same frown. They do have a reason.

— You know I'm against these outdated training methods as much as you do. Yet, you can't fight against tradition most the time. It's unbearable.

— Unbearable, eh? Said the lawyer who stood at the side of a handicapped woman who haven't been treated like a woman at all by said 'tradition', and the defenders of same. Shame on you, Fratley – Hrist only comes to be specific at these moments.

— For the first time, Hrist, I'm at your side – and she gets support from Freya too.

— First time? Hate to admit, but you're the one who... who... you know – a longtime support.

— Know what? Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

— You mean literally or figuratively?

— Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

— (I don't want to talk about that. Not in front of a man who can listen to all our secrets) – I could avoid any whispers from coming to my ears. Really, I could ignore these – ya heard me, Fratley. Get out, and stay out.

— As you wish, Hairy – I leave the girls on their own with a jump.

— (I hate when he calls me like that.)

— (Still whispering?)

— (Want me to shout at your ear?)

— (You're not a 3 year-old, Hrist.)

— (Often he treats me like a child.)

— (He who?)

— (Fratley. He has a small dick.)

— (...What?)

— (I said Fratley is such a dick.)

— (No, you said something else.)

— (...Don't look at me like that, Crescent. I had to come up with something just so he left us alone.)

...

Five hours later...

— ...Wait, does Fratley has a small-

— That ain't of our concern, Dan – oh, I see. I look at those hands, and wonder if there were any huge scratches at all – anyway, he taught me what he had to ever since the first day I stepped on that place. Well, not really. He just healed and haven't taught how to heal by myself at all.

— And why he did not? Fratley ain't a neglectful guy, or is he? The sheer amount of violence one Dragoon in training has to pass throught... it ain't Fratley's doing, my dear, you know that.

— I know. But, doesn't that mean he agrees with those methods? If he keeps doing these? – so Freya shows her arm once again. Little I care for her arm, but the one's she's holding – you should have saw my arm yesterday. Or a time ago. If Sir Fratley could have done the damage, so he could heal at will. His very will kept me bleeding.

— Only his will? – I don't see any signs of bad conduct. I can't say what's bad conduct or not, I just have a sword and people obey me. Though, I don't need any weapons to make my boy sleep quiet.

— Well, no, but... – given her tired tone, Freya has a lot more to tell – on that day, Sir Fratley had to leave the Jugend. To take care of a delicate situation. I'm not a fool or too innocent to know it was someone about to kill himself in front of many. Captain Edea came in and said he was a man of good words, or something like. His good words weren't enough, and that guy... my brother said that he got stuck on asphalt like rubber, everyone was shocked, and some, I would say, entertained. And Fratley, well...

— He is devastated, I know.

— Everyone, Dan. Even I, who wasn't there to see it.

— I see – these little things we have in arms do not know what happen outside. The day they will, if I'll be there or not to tell... of course I will. I'm a sucker for keeping promises, counting the bad ones.

— Maybe we could invite sis for dinner a few more times – I watch Burmecia by the window, all these people walking and the rain just falling. There's a lot more to see at town than you do at country, yet I miss the green of grass. I could just take a walk, but right now, I feel so tired.

— I'm sure she'll accept another invite – we both are tired. Aren't we, Ottis?

— I know Freya is independent. She made her own bed before I could, or wanted to. Remember?

— I do remember. I had to make your bed – even when I said you didn't needed to. But that was Ottis job, to take care of me when mom was out. Me and Freya – something bothering you, Jack?

— Everything – I wish I could forget my problems by looking at her face, but they remind me of more problems. Married with my childhood's nursemaid? Nah, that's the least of problems – when you are young, no one bothers you. You live your life. Then, as you grown up, you get to do a few jobs. Put some hard work in the easy living. Right when you get a little bit older, they, everyone just say 'well, better live your life. You have experience', but thing is... we don't. I enjoy mostly what I do, because I do it for you, for Freyr...

— Hmmmm – Ottis judge me in silence. Half silence. I look at little Freyr, resting at her arms.

— He doesn't need to care about same things as we do – the boy alone drains all our energy and attention.

— Isn't that a bless? I take care of children everyday, and Freyr is the quietiest of them – is he? Well, I heard that out of Ottis, so it might be true. The many tales she has to share about burmecian kids are a mix between exorcism and fairytales.

— He has a bit of grandpa. wish you knew him.

— Your mother told me a lot about Bart – I wonder what would I be without Ottis. Without father was already hard enough – she missed him a lot. I never asked money out of her, but she was willing to give it to me. I said 'no, thanks', but that was her way of saying 'thank you'. Followed of you too, and that little as well. Freya, isn't it?

— Yes. My sister. The one we invited to dinner.

— That one?

— The only one, Ottis.

— Oh, my... I can't believe it's her, how she grew up. She was that little and grew so tall!

— Tall like mom – honestly, I do not seem that surprised. Not as much as Ottis. It's because I'm worried again – mom... it's been like, what? Three, four days, a week since she... I wonder how sis feels. I mean, Freya always has been a kind of a loner. That's what bothers me, because, well... she's my sister, I know her better than anyone.

— Anyone?

— Yeah. You were there as well, Ottis. How many times sis refused to put a shirt and you just convinced her to...

— It wasn't that easy. Those were your clothes – one of the advantages of being the older brother.

— I believe Freya is the only kid who ever felt happy by receiving clothes on her birthdays.

— To have a piece of cloth is already a gift enough – time to put Freyr on the crib. He looks like me, so quiet while on sleep. Wait until he wakes up to see...

— You know, hugs are way better without these, darling – Ottis arms wrap all around me.

— Jack, please... – I had to ruin the moment.

– You are from Cleyra, right? Don't the ladies out there wear short dresses? – please, stop ruining the moment.

— Only the maids participating at the ritual dance.

— What, you never participated? Never danced among those pretties... no, wait, you are the pretty, the only one, errr – I swear to god, if you could just shut your mouth, you'd feel less embarassed than you do right now.

— Maybe I could show you my dancing skills – is that a code, or what?

— Hmmm... maybe – Jack, Jack... you are not that innocent to perceive what's going on, aren't you? – ah, let me close the window, alright? It's so cold here, heh. So, you dance? This room, well, is too small for a dance

— I thought about a private dance – that's it. Nothing much to do, other than give myself in to her embrace. Who dances in a bed? I'd rather jump upon it.

— Right now!? What if Freyr wakes up? – shut up already, Ottis said with a kiss. Whatever...