Ch. 7: Heavy
It was quiet when he woke again, in the cold attic room that he had been generously given. Below him, he could feel the other five boys stirring from sleep - murmurs and cooking sounds reached under the door along with the tantalizing aromas of breakfast that Isumi was preparing. His eyes remained closed, but he could see the room with its wooden beams and mysteriously dark corners, the tatami dead-center and then the little incense altar in the corner. The window would be a thick gray paste, like the taro in the bread that cost a lot back in Tokyo, creamy and somehow sticky as well. And when he opened his eyes, the first thing he would feel would be like a rushing of air, like as if he were flying on a jetstream without a plane under him.
He opened his eyes. And jerked straight up.
The beams above him were on fire.
He could feel his useless right arm tingling with warmth, sucking in the warmth from the flames around it. He used my other hand to use it to open the door, and felt absolutely no pain from the hot door. Covering his mouth and squinting his eyes, he made it down the stairs slowly, breaking one in the process. On the second floor he peered into Isumi's room, and saw that it had probably been his candles that started the fire. Everything was burning merrily already. He hacked under the onslaught of smoke, and then made his way to ground floor.
The breakfast, ironically, was still cooking. A western style breakfast had been cooked, with a small omelet and toast with a square of butter - on impulse, he grabbed the toast and scarfed it down quickly. As soon as he was finished a burning log almost fell on him. Berating myself for putting down wrong priorities, he draped a blanket in the parlor over himself and then rushed outside in someone else's shoes. There had evidently been snow last night; the entire ground was sparkling in the winter sun, humorlessly. And there was no one else outside.
For a moment he struggled with something inside of him, for some sort of a name that he did not know - like a curtain or shutters that suddenly blocked everything else from his memory. A face, a vision, that he struggled to recall along with the name that went along with it. Snatches of something caught fleetingly at the edges of his eyes, an illusion that danced out of his reach. A tray of candles - a house, burning, this house in front of him - hands, graceful and femininely shaped even though he could somehow identify the owner was male - and then words, something about wanting to die and how prisons confined. He fought with it inside of his own mind, trying to remember. . .what was he trying to remember? A person, someone who completely understood -
Isumi? The name somehow sounded familiar, but it was fast becoming foreign to him.
The burning building arched high above him, and his right arm tingled. He looked down to the sight of his arm, wrapped in lead, melting in the heat, and somehow he felt no fear at all. Then the house groaned with weakening limbs, and when it finally crashed and the sparks and splinters flew out at his face, he felt them pass through him and knew no more.
* * *
There was a voice, calling his name, and when he woke up he almost imagined wooden beams and a room with an altar in the corner, but those faded the moment he opened his eyes. Touya was there, standing over him, his face concerned for once. He sat up, groggily, and unconsciously wrapped the blanket tighter around his form. On sudden impulse he looked down at his right hand - and it was a hand, albeit a rather cold hand, that he could move when he wanted to. For a moment confusion surfaced along with a multitude of snatches of feeling, light, sound, and touch. He looked up swiftly at the crouched form of Touya beside him, supporting his back, and said quite clearly, "Isumi."
If Touya's face could have become any more surprised, he would have liked to see it. The Ainu researcher looked as to be rewinding memory back to some other time, but then they cleared and said breathlessly, "How - how do you know about that?"
Kaga swallowed and continued. "You had a brother, I met him. His name is Isumi, and he's working to become an Ainu researcher like you. Am I wrong?" Memory of the fire returned to him, and he clutched at Touya's arm. "The fire! What about the fire? Did he get out? The other boys, they didn't. . .die, did they?"
Touya was looking at him strangely, shaking his head. "I don't know what you're talking about", the researcher said finally. "Isumi died five years ago in a fire in a little town along with four other boys. I believe that is what you're talking about, but certainly I don't think you've ever met him. It would have been impossible." Kaga saw a sort of desperate hope grow and die in Touya's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"But he was there! I met him!"
The researcher stood, suddenly looking stern. "I don't know what you're talking about", he said sternly to him, "but you'd better not put up any trouble. It's been six months that Shindou and I have been out for you, so you'd better not put up a fight now." But almost as if an afterthought, he took the blanket and arranged it carefully around Kaga's shoulders. "Come along now."
Kaga stood still for a moment. He looked down at the blanket, at his T-shirt and pants, and felt that he didn't really belong in the snow at all. But it had only been two weeks! What was this about "six months" and "five years"? And if he had survived on Hokkaido for six months, then how could he have survived so long without memory of it? Almost as an afterthought, he looked down at his right hand - not lead, anymore. But it felt just as heavy.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ Author's note:
FINALLY FINISHED!!!! Okay, I don't know if you want me to continue this to encompass what happens to Tsutui as well. . . tell me, willya? But as of now if no one tells me what they want, this is the end of the story. Signing out!
Andrea Weiling
It was quiet when he woke again, in the cold attic room that he had been generously given. Below him, he could feel the other five boys stirring from sleep - murmurs and cooking sounds reached under the door along with the tantalizing aromas of breakfast that Isumi was preparing. His eyes remained closed, but he could see the room with its wooden beams and mysteriously dark corners, the tatami dead-center and then the little incense altar in the corner. The window would be a thick gray paste, like the taro in the bread that cost a lot back in Tokyo, creamy and somehow sticky as well. And when he opened his eyes, the first thing he would feel would be like a rushing of air, like as if he were flying on a jetstream without a plane under him.
He opened his eyes. And jerked straight up.
The beams above him were on fire.
He could feel his useless right arm tingling with warmth, sucking in the warmth from the flames around it. He used my other hand to use it to open the door, and felt absolutely no pain from the hot door. Covering his mouth and squinting his eyes, he made it down the stairs slowly, breaking one in the process. On the second floor he peered into Isumi's room, and saw that it had probably been his candles that started the fire. Everything was burning merrily already. He hacked under the onslaught of smoke, and then made his way to ground floor.
The breakfast, ironically, was still cooking. A western style breakfast had been cooked, with a small omelet and toast with a square of butter - on impulse, he grabbed the toast and scarfed it down quickly. As soon as he was finished a burning log almost fell on him. Berating myself for putting down wrong priorities, he draped a blanket in the parlor over himself and then rushed outside in someone else's shoes. There had evidently been snow last night; the entire ground was sparkling in the winter sun, humorlessly. And there was no one else outside.
For a moment he struggled with something inside of him, for some sort of a name that he did not know - like a curtain or shutters that suddenly blocked everything else from his memory. A face, a vision, that he struggled to recall along with the name that went along with it. Snatches of something caught fleetingly at the edges of his eyes, an illusion that danced out of his reach. A tray of candles - a house, burning, this house in front of him - hands, graceful and femininely shaped even though he could somehow identify the owner was male - and then words, something about wanting to die and how prisons confined. He fought with it inside of his own mind, trying to remember. . .what was he trying to remember? A person, someone who completely understood -
Isumi? The name somehow sounded familiar, but it was fast becoming foreign to him.
The burning building arched high above him, and his right arm tingled. He looked down to the sight of his arm, wrapped in lead, melting in the heat, and somehow he felt no fear at all. Then the house groaned with weakening limbs, and when it finally crashed and the sparks and splinters flew out at his face, he felt them pass through him and knew no more.
* * *
There was a voice, calling his name, and when he woke up he almost imagined wooden beams and a room with an altar in the corner, but those faded the moment he opened his eyes. Touya was there, standing over him, his face concerned for once. He sat up, groggily, and unconsciously wrapped the blanket tighter around his form. On sudden impulse he looked down at his right hand - and it was a hand, albeit a rather cold hand, that he could move when he wanted to. For a moment confusion surfaced along with a multitude of snatches of feeling, light, sound, and touch. He looked up swiftly at the crouched form of Touya beside him, supporting his back, and said quite clearly, "Isumi."
If Touya's face could have become any more surprised, he would have liked to see it. The Ainu researcher looked as to be rewinding memory back to some other time, but then they cleared and said breathlessly, "How - how do you know about that?"
Kaga swallowed and continued. "You had a brother, I met him. His name is Isumi, and he's working to become an Ainu researcher like you. Am I wrong?" Memory of the fire returned to him, and he clutched at Touya's arm. "The fire! What about the fire? Did he get out? The other boys, they didn't. . .die, did they?"
Touya was looking at him strangely, shaking his head. "I don't know what you're talking about", the researcher said finally. "Isumi died five years ago in a fire in a little town along with four other boys. I believe that is what you're talking about, but certainly I don't think you've ever met him. It would have been impossible." Kaga saw a sort of desperate hope grow and die in Touya's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"But he was there! I met him!"
The researcher stood, suddenly looking stern. "I don't know what you're talking about", he said sternly to him, "but you'd better not put up any trouble. It's been six months that Shindou and I have been out for you, so you'd better not put up a fight now." But almost as if an afterthought, he took the blanket and arranged it carefully around Kaga's shoulders. "Come along now."
Kaga stood still for a moment. He looked down at the blanket, at his T-shirt and pants, and felt that he didn't really belong in the snow at all. But it had only been two weeks! What was this about "six months" and "five years"? And if he had survived on Hokkaido for six months, then how could he have survived so long without memory of it? Almost as an afterthought, he looked down at his right hand - not lead, anymore. But it felt just as heavy.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ Author's note:
FINALLY FINISHED!!!! Okay, I don't know if you want me to continue this to encompass what happens to Tsutui as well. . . tell me, willya? But as of now if no one tells me what they want, this is the end of the story. Signing out!
Andrea Weiling