Admiral
Chapter Two
Pale Colored is Purity
Tomoyo had allowed her lustrous black locks to be free in the cool breeze of green Japan, but immediately regretted it when the forceful winds of the shuttle whipped them violently. She was apprehensive.
She had dressed herself with care for the receiving ceremony for him. A pale ivory colored sundress was strung with gorgeous Valenciennes lace like drooping and very fine feathers that repeated a pattern of very delicate scrolls interwoven with seed pearls. Her loose hair was strung with pearls, too, and pearls decorated her ears in two large pale teardrops. It was a magnificent array of silk gauze and impeccable pale jewels. It was as if she had clad herself in armor for war.
She had not seen him for eight years, and now he was thirteen. They two alone had been in the ridiculously accelerated class for gifted students in Tomoeda, and therefore spent most of their time correcting their teachers. By the time she was eight, there were no professors in Tomoeda who could keep up with her. Now, there were only a few select professors at Tokyo University who could even teach her something. There was talk of sending her to Oxford in England. At least the language barrier would halt her for a while.
But Eriol had been in Battle School, in space, where only the brightest children were all grouped together at once. And he and his comrades-at-arms had destroyed the alien race by the time he was twelve. Of course, there had already been conflict over who would receive these military geniuses and put them to work on conquering the world, and of course, Japan was puffed up with pride that it was home to two of the squadron leaders in what was being called the Last Battle. What no one deigned to notice was that neither was native to Japan.
Had he survived uncorrupted? Or was he mutated beyond recognition, his fine gentle humor and sharp wit withered by war and brutality? Had he been stained black, where it had once been white and a tinge of blue?
Oh yes, he was clever, alright. But he had also massacred an entire race before adolesence. She wondered if he was still human. Perhaps. Staying at Battle School for eight years didn't exactly do much for one's humanity. Tomoyo remembered that few of her letters were answered in those eight years, and that those replies often came with abject apologies about their enforced rarity and terseness.
He descended from the exit ramp, looking ill at ease with the open spaces of earth, but disquieted and silent. He had no family but was instead raised alone through the minimal presence of a family lawyer.
He stood with stiff attention, the posture of a soldier, as the numerous pedestrian awards were piled up in an interminable ceremony. Even with her legendary reserves of patience in which she could hold herself still for long periods of time, it was wearing off. Eriol, however, looked on with too intelligent restless eyes that never gazed for more than moments at anything. There was a readiness to him. But he was still beautiful, in the untouchable, statuesque sort of way in a uniform of an admiral of the International Fleet.
She caught his glance and captured it when it was over. He walked over to her with an oddly fluid gait, and only when he had approached her she realized that it was the gait of an expert of self defense. No, he had not been idle.
"Tomoyo?" His voice was quiet but threaded with the assurance of command, his eyes too cold for his young age. But he was still Eriol. She nodded.
"Yes. It's me." His eyes were alert, somehow never resting on the same place for too long, too intelligent, too penetrating. And too cold. He was much taller than her now, but he still had the face of a boy, the gentle curve of soft skin, the long dark lashes, the gorgeous lips.
"How are you?" Then he himself smiled at the absurdity of the question.
"I'm well, Eriol." The wind ruffled his hair, and then she realized that a part of him would always be older than he should be, but another part was still what age he should once have been. Let it be so, Tomoyo thought. Oh God, let it be so.
Chapter Two
Pale Colored is Purity
Tomoyo had allowed her lustrous black locks to be free in the cool breeze of green Japan, but immediately regretted it when the forceful winds of the shuttle whipped them violently. She was apprehensive.
She had dressed herself with care for the receiving ceremony for him. A pale ivory colored sundress was strung with gorgeous Valenciennes lace like drooping and very fine feathers that repeated a pattern of very delicate scrolls interwoven with seed pearls. Her loose hair was strung with pearls, too, and pearls decorated her ears in two large pale teardrops. It was a magnificent array of silk gauze and impeccable pale jewels. It was as if she had clad herself in armor for war.
She had not seen him for eight years, and now he was thirteen. They two alone had been in the ridiculously accelerated class for gifted students in Tomoeda, and therefore spent most of their time correcting their teachers. By the time she was eight, there were no professors in Tomoeda who could keep up with her. Now, there were only a few select professors at Tokyo University who could even teach her something. There was talk of sending her to Oxford in England. At least the language barrier would halt her for a while.
But Eriol had been in Battle School, in space, where only the brightest children were all grouped together at once. And he and his comrades-at-arms had destroyed the alien race by the time he was twelve. Of course, there had already been conflict over who would receive these military geniuses and put them to work on conquering the world, and of course, Japan was puffed up with pride that it was home to two of the squadron leaders in what was being called the Last Battle. What no one deigned to notice was that neither was native to Japan.
Had he survived uncorrupted? Or was he mutated beyond recognition, his fine gentle humor and sharp wit withered by war and brutality? Had he been stained black, where it had once been white and a tinge of blue?
Oh yes, he was clever, alright. But he had also massacred an entire race before adolesence. She wondered if he was still human. Perhaps. Staying at Battle School for eight years didn't exactly do much for one's humanity. Tomoyo remembered that few of her letters were answered in those eight years, and that those replies often came with abject apologies about their enforced rarity and terseness.
He descended from the exit ramp, looking ill at ease with the open spaces of earth, but disquieted and silent. He had no family but was instead raised alone through the minimal presence of a family lawyer.
He stood with stiff attention, the posture of a soldier, as the numerous pedestrian awards were piled up in an interminable ceremony. Even with her legendary reserves of patience in which she could hold herself still for long periods of time, it was wearing off. Eriol, however, looked on with too intelligent restless eyes that never gazed for more than moments at anything. There was a readiness to him. But he was still beautiful, in the untouchable, statuesque sort of way in a uniform of an admiral of the International Fleet.
She caught his glance and captured it when it was over. He walked over to her with an oddly fluid gait, and only when he had approached her she realized that it was the gait of an expert of self defense. No, he had not been idle.
"Tomoyo?" His voice was quiet but threaded with the assurance of command, his eyes too cold for his young age. But he was still Eriol. She nodded.
"Yes. It's me." His eyes were alert, somehow never resting on the same place for too long, too intelligent, too penetrating. And too cold. He was much taller than her now, but he still had the face of a boy, the gentle curve of soft skin, the long dark lashes, the gorgeous lips.
"How are you?" Then he himself smiled at the absurdity of the question.
"I'm well, Eriol." The wind ruffled his hair, and then she realized that a part of him would always be older than he should be, but another part was still what age he should once have been. Let it be so, Tomoyo thought. Oh God, let it be so.