The Coming Dawn
The man who stepped off of the bus was not in high spirits. As his ride sped away into the night, he forced his hands deeper inside his pockets and inched his chin closer to his chest, effectively hiding his face in the collar of his coat. He began to walk slowly, almost wearily in the direction of his home. He kept his eyes to the pavement in front of him and seemed to concentrate more on the process of carefully placing each foot in front of the other than on the city of evening that he was surrounded by. His steps echoed off the chill of the twilight air, and fell onto the indifferent ears of the empty street.
If glanced at in passing, he would have been called handsome; golden hair surrounded a pale face inset with sapphire eyes and a gentle mouth. But on closer inspection, the blonde mane was unkempt, the pale face was lined and beginning to darken with the stubble of self-neglect, and the eyes ... The eyes, that had once put the majesty of the ocean to shame, were dimmed and downcast. Their radiance - muted by the shadows beneath them - had transformed into a dull, unfocused resignation. The gentle mouth, which had once brought worth words of both beauty and reverence for life, frowned at some inner dilemma and refused to become a thing of splendor once more.
The man was no longer young. Time and the world had taken their toll on him and had left him a battered husk of what he once had been. He had long since learned from harsh experience that life did not necessarily have to be a thing of beauty simply because of the promise it held in youth. The clichés of achieving dreams and goals were simply words, meant perhaps for pacification and the encouragement of a greater contribution to the whole. A whole, he thought briefly, that benefited a select and discriminating few. Life itself was a sham. To live was to be submerged in death. Not the deaths of war or sickness, but little, more insignificant deaths that had eventually added to a ruinous whole. The deaths of relationships, then morals, and then hopes. Then, his mind murmured, came not the demise of life itself, but the fervent wish for it to come. A feeling, he assumed, that was certainly more agonizing than the numb of eternal sleep.
Put bluntly, the truths that he had learned had destroyed him. Mankind was not kind, people were often anything but, and - perhaps the most painful fact to accept of them all - the good guys didn't always win. A righteous cause meant little without a schedule and corporate sponsorship. The 'right thing' was regularly passed over if some sort of gain could not be extracted from it. He once had built up a foundation of virtue and knowledge of the world that he had thought stable and true. He trusted in what he thought to be correct about people, but had been slapped in the face with the reality. His innocence was evaporated with the opening of his eyes, and the childlike spirit within him had been chained into the shadows with the disappearance of the child on the outside. A sound heart and tangible soul had no place in the modern world.
Soul. His mind twisted around the word, trying to decipher it and the meaning that it had once held. He chuckled ruefully, defeatedly, and consciously dropped the train of thought he felt taking form. Things such as that had no place in his life now, a life without hope, a life without love.
He once had love, he recalled. The love of a mother, a brother. To some extent, the love of a father. He remembered, with a shadow of a smile, a unique love that he had felt only once, in his far distant youth, but that he had packaged carefully in the recesses of his heart. There had been a girl, who had shared more with him than simply the colorful adventures that he had long ago convinced himself were simply a fantasy of a curtailed childhood. She had been so different, stood out in his memory more than anyone he had known. His steps slowed as he recalled her name, her face, and her voice ...
"Takeru!"
The man stopped abruptly. That same voice, having emerged from the silhouette of his memory, rang out in the empty night. He straightened and turned towards its source slowly, failing to quell the torrent of hope that rose within him.
Then he saw her. She had aged, true, but time had sculpted - not beaten - her. Amber hair framed a cherub's face that was aglow with the recognition of his. Her slender frame was dressed simply, in a white skirt topped with an equally fair jacket. A chain of gold encircled her graceful neck, its splendor incomparable to the shining eyes that rested upon him. They were just as he remembered, his stirring heart assured him. They brimmed with an inextinguishable joy, offered a grin to the world, and expected nothing in return. He felt his breath slip out from between his lips.
He willed himself to say something. "Hi - Hikari?" He regret speaking immediately after hearing the metallic rasp of his voice, something he guessed had developed with extended lack of use. The vision before him smiled and closed the distance between them quickly.
"It's been a long time," she said gently, stopping in front of him and fixing her eyes on his.
He found it hard to do anything but nod. Her very presence seemed to overwhelm him. He felt himself momentarily blinded from the light that emanated from her very being, and blinked. It had been a long time. He fought with the cobwebs of memory to the day that they had left each other, the day that he had had to separate from the one true friend and purpose in his life. Few words had been said, their absence filled with the purity of their emotions.
Not long after their second round of adventures, many of the group of friends had drifted apart, finding little to keep them together with the ending of their cause for unity. He and Hikari and remained steadfast, and were there to see the last of them off on the continuation of the life that had been so briefly interrupted by the something 'greater' that had drawn them all together. Life had been fine, if mundane, when only they and their families had remained. Time had passed, their relationship had solidified, but the development of future outweighed that of their friendship and budding romance. Hikari left to go to school overseas, and while Takeru had wished her all the happiness in the world, part of him regret letting her go.
She watched with her head tilted slightly to the side and waited for him.
"How ... have you been?" He asked the question suddenly. He needed to make her speak, to hear her voice ...
A smile. "I've been well." Her lips pursed and a small hand was on the sleeve of his jacket as if it should never have been anywhere else. "But actually, Takeru, I've been worried about you."
He raised his eyebrows and coughed in what he hoped was a light manner. "Why would you be worried about me?" He refused to meet her eyes until her hand was on his cheek. He willed his knees to be steady as a warmth was emitted from her touch that sent tendrils of radiance down into his darkest corners.
"Takeru," she began slowly, "I want you to know something. I want you to remember back when we were children, back when we had to fight for our lives and the lives of so many others. Do you remember?" He nodded with a slight smile. How could he forget? "That's good, Takeru. I want you to remember that because I want you to do something important for me."
His brow wrinkled and his eyes sought hers for answers, but he found in them only a patient determination. She spoke again, her voice resonating quietly. "You have to remember yourself, Takeru, you have to remember the person that you used to be. You have to remember the joy that you used to have, the happiness, the hope ..." she paused, and it looked as if her eyes were filling with tears. Her voice was calm. "You need that hope that you were once so filled with. You need that, my dearest friend, because the world needs it.
If you, its champion, has hung his head in defeat, what is there for the least of us? Takeru, the world isn't pretty. There is death and sin on every side and situations may look pointless. But when have we ever let ourselves be beaten by poor odds? When did we ever give up?" He was weeping by this time, and the woman before him held his face in both hands. "Don't give up. You must refuse to bend to the indifference that plagues this place and these people.
You have to promise me that you'll never lie down and surrender again, Takeru! You have to give me your word that the world will have one more knight to give it hope and give lives meaning. It doesn't have nearly enough, and so that makes you and the purity that you possess all the more essential. So promise me."
Tears slid down his cheeks. He didn't question her accuracy of the burden held in his heart for so long, nor did he question the timing of her presence or the preciseness of what he had needed to hear. He realized suddenly that he had been lacking only a reminder of the purity that was still able to thrive in the world, and that a love that was far away did not diminish the fact that it was a love. Hope had to exist in the world because change could be brought about no other way. A revelation washed over him, rivaling the flood of comforting warmth and light that he felt from the palms of her hands that still rested on his cheeks. He shut his eyes as he felt his sobs ease.
"I promise, Hikari." He took an unsteady breath. "I - " He opened his eyes, feeling that his neglected heart was at once again whole and eager for encouragement. There was so much he had to tell her, so much he had to thank her for ...
She was gone.
Mouth agape, Takeru touched his still-warm cheek and tried to imagine where she could have fled to, and so quickly. His heart continued to beat wildly, as it had from the power of her words, and he released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.
Tears rapidly drying, his eyes slid up and down the dark street, and then stopped. Who knew the ways of his friend? he thought with affection. He blinked again, delicately touching and turning over this new, but familiar feeling that nestled within him. At an earlier time, he might have questioned whether or not she had been there with him at all, but now -
He smiled and straightened his shoulders. Now, he had a promise to keep. Blowing a kiss to the midnight air and trusting it to find her, he turned and headed for home, a bounce in his step that had been absent for years.
_______________
She stood with her forehead against the cool of the door, eyes shut. Her hand had found the set of keys in her pocket, but her heart found no real reason to enter the apartment. The day had been like any other day - agonizingly routine and lacking in any definable purpose. She had gone to work - the word left a bitter taste in her mouth - and come home, just as she had the day before, and the day before that. Taking a breath, she wondered if perhaps the cause of this unbearable, unbreakable circle was entering this very doorway. If she stopped altogether, perhaps something would change. Perhaps something for the better.
A mewling on the other side of the door cut into her thoughts. She opened her eyes without seeing and mechanically slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door open, a small white figure peered up at her with cerulean eyes. A tail twitched. She smiled briefly, and knelt to scoop the little cat up into her arms.
She murmured an apology into its fur, listening to its erratic purrs as she set her keys on the table after locking the door behind her. The darkened kitchen presented no obstacle to the questing hands that pulled a solitary can of cat food from a low cupboard, and she felt no need to turn on a light as she knelt. Her small companion stepped lightly from her embrace and padded across the floor towards the object of its interest. After fumbling with the can opener, the food was emptied into the bowl and the cat's attention shifted abruptly away from her. She remained on her knees for a moment, watching the animal focus solely on the task before it. It summed up her essentiality in the creature's life - the bringer of the food. Fondness could not extend any farther than that point. Her partiality to felines in general did not seem to translate the opposite way, and she sighed silently.
She stood in the pale darkness cast from the rising moon outside her window and ignored the protests of her stomach as she turned away from the kitchen. She didn't really need anything tonight, she decided. She would eat something tomorrow morning. Besides, it was probably for the best not to - conservation of goods was a wise idea when funds were as tight as they were. Her little reserve of money was beginning to dwindle, and was diminishing more quickly than she found herself able to keep up with.
The puckered couch in her 'living room' looked inviting. She eased her thin frame down onto it and shut her eyes. If she could have seen herself the way she was now, years after her life had faded from the colors of the past, she would have been surprised. And disappointed. Her thinning, mousy-brown hair surrounded her drawn face on the cushion, forming a sort of sad halo. Her once flawless complexion was now wrought with shadows - a pitiable irony. Shadow. Faint ocher eyes fluttered briefly with the recognition of that word. Shadow was a major part of her life at the present time. Her mind was in shadows, her thoughts were in shadows. Her heart ... She snorted. Her heart was a shadow. A shadow not of darkness, not yet, but a shadow of what it once had been.
A long time ago, she never would have believed that life could become what she lived through now. Surrounded - and protected - by family, by friends, by him, she was certain that life was a thing of charm and beauty. She was certain that its uniqueness was meant to be cherished and pride was to be taken in it. Only now did she realize that uniqueness did not truly exist, and that she was one of many. Too many. And it appeared that there was not enough happiness to go around.
She had been happy. She had led a charmed life, encircled by a family that cared, a destiny - if a short-lived one - that gave her purpose, and by friends that she valued above all else. There was one friend in particular. She smiled in the dark, recalling the delicate outline of his face and smiling azure eyes, the teasing frown of his lips. She had had more than happiness then. She had had love for him, and therefore for everyone else who wished it. Her heart had harbored love for the world. She had once crusaded to save it for a future that she was now beginning to discover might not have been worth the sweat and tears it had cost. Her own life, she decided, was not worth a tear. Her future had once been bright, and while her eyes had been open with the optimism and enthusiasm of youth, they had also been blind. She had left behind everything to find her purpose, to discover herself. And she had found nothing.
Having once shown promise, she discovered much too late that she was only as unique and exceptional as she had been when in the presence of those who had decided that she was so. Separation from her family had degenerated her into another human being - another slave to the surrounding world that took all and offered nothing in return, save a measly paycheck and an assurance of promotion in the coming years. Such torment was magnified by the fact that she had once been special. She had once saved the world! So why was it now so difficult to keep scholarships and earn a living on her own? Wasn't she owed something? Didn't any of the fantastic obstacles she had conquered mean that she had been destined for something greater? She had slid downwards all the farther after having been up so high, lethargy enveloping her with the realization that she was but one of billions just the same as she was - hopeful, brimming with dreams and ideas ...
Well, she used to be anyway. She dismissed the thought with a roll onto her side and made up her mind to sleep.
The perpetual tick of her clock chided her about the lateness of the hour and how she should have been asleep long before. Tomorrow would not be a good day. The decision was already out of her hands and she bit her lip with her eyes closed. Was it even worth it? An inner voice cried out at her, refusing her mind for one more moment the blankness that was its only comfort. What could this life possibly achieve? With those words spinning in her head, she brushed away the answer that made an effort to spring forth and resigned herself to the dreamlessness of her sleep.
Before she could, however, there was a knock at the door.
She opened her eyes and studied the blackness in front of her. The sound had been very soft, even in the silence, and had it been lower she would not have heard it at all. It was just loud enough for me to hear, she thought. At another - earlier - time, she may have attributed that knowledge to her infamous 'sixth sense', but these days she found herself barely having all five senses, let alone six. The sound did not repeat itself as she rose from the couch. Whoever was outside of her door seemed to wait patiently for her while she ran a hand through her short hair and hoped she looked minimally presentable.
The watery glow of the moon shone over her shoulder as she reached the door. She decided against turning on a light - her neighbors would most likely not appreciate late night visitors. On that note, who would be visiting her at this hour? Come to think of it, who would be visiting her? She, regretfully, hadn't spoken with her brother or parents for weeks. She had meant to do something about that, but her hours had been hectic and her midterms had been ... difficult. Maybe it was someone from her job, or from the school. With a frown, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
And stared.
His features lit by the light of the moon behind her, stood a grinning figure that may have been cut directly from her past and taped to her doorway. His hair, strands of spun gold, still rose in radiant defiance around his head and tender face. His mild mouth was upturned and open slightly to reveal still-perfect teeth. Her eyes traveled up his face to meet his, and were taken aback by their gentle intensity. They were still the startling blue of her memories, reflecting the nonexistent summer sky and transforming it into a warmth that she had not been able to find anywhere else.
Her hand completed its agonizing journey to her mouth. "Takeru?"
His smile grew wider. He was not dressed extravagantly; white dress pants and a white shirt with the top button undone to partially reveal the flawless pastel skin of his chest. A chest, she noticed through her blurred vision, which had filled out slightly in the past years, along with slim yet powerful arms and shoulders. A hand, encircled by a plain gold bracelet, met hers and brought it away from her face and to his cheek. "Yes, Hikari. It's me." The sudden warmth of his skin prompted her to speak.
"It's been so long." He nodded slowly, his eyes still on hers, and said nothing. She watched him a moment more before clearing her throat. "How has everything been going for you? I mean, when I left you were -"
A finger placed on her lips stopped her and Takeru motioned towards the dark apartment behind. "May I come in?"
"Oh, of course ..." She blushed furiously, grateful for the partial dimness, and moved out of the doorway to allow him to pass. Smiling demurely, he released her hand and moved into her home. She studied him as he went, half agape at the grace and fluidity with which he moved. His passing left a pleasant tingle of electricity in the air that she noticed dazedly as she closed the door behind her and joined him on the couch.
He moved closer to her as she sat, and she felt the heat from his skin on her own although they were not touching. She drew strength from it. "How's Yamato? I've been hearing good things about his band and my friend - " He shook his head slowly at her words and peered into her eyes, silencing her.
"That's not what I came here to talk about, Hikari." She frowned, and he smiled in answer. "I came here to talk about you. I've been worried." She tried to laugh at that, but it sounded more like a choked sob. Maybe it was, she thought.
"What have you been worried about? I'm a big girl, Takeru." She let her eyes drop and studied the carpet. A kind hand tilted her chin and angled her eyes into his once more.
"While that may be true, it still doesn't mean that you don't need anyone."
She brushed his hand away. "I don't know what you're talking about. I mean, the fact that you're here is enough surprise for me, but ..." She found herself unable to continue as she examined her gaunt reflection in his eyes. A lump formed in her throat, and she bit her lip.
He allowed her to sit in silence a moment before speaking again. "You haven't been well, have you?" She shook her head, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. What was worth hiding from her childhood friend?
He nodded as if he had known the answer. "You'll get better, Hikari. It will get better. You have to trust me on this one." He paused and allowed her to wearily put her forehead on his shoulder. He touched her hair gently. "It doesn't look good right now. I know it doesn't. But I also know something else. I know how strong you are, and I know how these shadows that surround you may seem like they can defeat you, but they will not. You can't let them." She nodded into his shoulder.
"You have a better destiny awaiting you than the one that lies at the end of this road. You have seen the path that you are meant for. Take it, Hikari! The world is not as unforgiving as it seems. You are special. You are unique. You are you, and that is what matters most." Tears stained his shirt. "You mustn't let the light die, Hikari. The world is, unfortunately, dark enough already."
Tender lips moved against her head. "You used to be filled with this light. You know you were and you know that you have to find it again. Will you find it for me?" She breathed in his essence, and nodded, suddenly sleepy. "That's the Hikari that I know and love," he murmured, and slowly moved so that she way lying full on the couch. He brushed a strand of hair from her closed eyes, and watched her breathing fall into a light rhythm. He smiled, and moved away from her side.
The small white cat regarded him with fascination from the kitchen. It moved towards him and wove its way between his feet, making him stop on his way to the door. He bent and gathered it into his arms, feeling its heart beat slowly against his chest. A loud, content purr echoed in the silent room and he stroked the fur behind its ears for a few moments.
"Take care of her for me," he whispered finally, and placed the now-dozing cat upon the chest of the woman on the couch. He watched her smile in her sleep and wished her pleasant dreams and the courage he knew she would find for tomorrow. He turned then and left the apartment, leaving a locked door behind him.
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In the emerging light of the morning, two figures - a man and woman - stood alone on a beach before the ocean. Their white sleeves fluttered quietly in the early breeze, and their solemn faces studied the water ahead of them.
"How was he?" The man asked of his companion finally. Morning light glinted off of a bracelet on his wrist as he reached for her hand.
She smiled and patted it. "He was handsome, beautiful even. He has grown up extraordinarily." The man nodded and smiled slightly. "How was ...?"
He laughed good-naturedly. "A vision. She was a vision. Her inner strength has dimmed, but it has not been lost. Far from it in fact." The woman closed her eyes, her free hand moving towards her throat and the gold necklace that circled it.
"Do you think we did the right thing?" The man was silent for a only a moment.
"Yes."
"Do you think they will be alright?"
"Yes. The world needs them - they will triumph as they have innumerable times before. They're special. Not invulnerable, but special. Their strength lies in their souls, which this place cannot touch." He looked to the lightening sky above him. "They cannot be touched." His companion nodded once, satisfied. Then, as one, the two moved together towards the ocean.
If glanced at casually, it may have seemed as though they were simple man and woman strolling on the beach. But if examined closely, they were not at all, but were nearly transparent duplicates with a handful of flaws in the copy. Their faces were one moment bare and smiling, and the next concealed by a pair of silver masks. In addition, it was as though feathers covered their shoulders and backs, enclosing them in a white radiance as they strode towards the sea, leaving the sand smooth and untouched behind them.
And then at once, they were not there at all, leaving only the promise of another day in the light of the coming dawn.
The man who stepped off of the bus was not in high spirits. As his ride sped away into the night, he forced his hands deeper inside his pockets and inched his chin closer to his chest, effectively hiding his face in the collar of his coat. He began to walk slowly, almost wearily in the direction of his home. He kept his eyes to the pavement in front of him and seemed to concentrate more on the process of carefully placing each foot in front of the other than on the city of evening that he was surrounded by. His steps echoed off the chill of the twilight air, and fell onto the indifferent ears of the empty street.
If glanced at in passing, he would have been called handsome; golden hair surrounded a pale face inset with sapphire eyes and a gentle mouth. But on closer inspection, the blonde mane was unkempt, the pale face was lined and beginning to darken with the stubble of self-neglect, and the eyes ... The eyes, that had once put the majesty of the ocean to shame, were dimmed and downcast. Their radiance - muted by the shadows beneath them - had transformed into a dull, unfocused resignation. The gentle mouth, which had once brought worth words of both beauty and reverence for life, frowned at some inner dilemma and refused to become a thing of splendor once more.
The man was no longer young. Time and the world had taken their toll on him and had left him a battered husk of what he once had been. He had long since learned from harsh experience that life did not necessarily have to be a thing of beauty simply because of the promise it held in youth. The clichés of achieving dreams and goals were simply words, meant perhaps for pacification and the encouragement of a greater contribution to the whole. A whole, he thought briefly, that benefited a select and discriminating few. Life itself was a sham. To live was to be submerged in death. Not the deaths of war or sickness, but little, more insignificant deaths that had eventually added to a ruinous whole. The deaths of relationships, then morals, and then hopes. Then, his mind murmured, came not the demise of life itself, but the fervent wish for it to come. A feeling, he assumed, that was certainly more agonizing than the numb of eternal sleep.
Put bluntly, the truths that he had learned had destroyed him. Mankind was not kind, people were often anything but, and - perhaps the most painful fact to accept of them all - the good guys didn't always win. A righteous cause meant little without a schedule and corporate sponsorship. The 'right thing' was regularly passed over if some sort of gain could not be extracted from it. He once had built up a foundation of virtue and knowledge of the world that he had thought stable and true. He trusted in what he thought to be correct about people, but had been slapped in the face with the reality. His innocence was evaporated with the opening of his eyes, and the childlike spirit within him had been chained into the shadows with the disappearance of the child on the outside. A sound heart and tangible soul had no place in the modern world.
Soul. His mind twisted around the word, trying to decipher it and the meaning that it had once held. He chuckled ruefully, defeatedly, and consciously dropped the train of thought he felt taking form. Things such as that had no place in his life now, a life without hope, a life without love.
He once had love, he recalled. The love of a mother, a brother. To some extent, the love of a father. He remembered, with a shadow of a smile, a unique love that he had felt only once, in his far distant youth, but that he had packaged carefully in the recesses of his heart. There had been a girl, who had shared more with him than simply the colorful adventures that he had long ago convinced himself were simply a fantasy of a curtailed childhood. She had been so different, stood out in his memory more than anyone he had known. His steps slowed as he recalled her name, her face, and her voice ...
"Takeru!"
The man stopped abruptly. That same voice, having emerged from the silhouette of his memory, rang out in the empty night. He straightened and turned towards its source slowly, failing to quell the torrent of hope that rose within him.
Then he saw her. She had aged, true, but time had sculpted - not beaten - her. Amber hair framed a cherub's face that was aglow with the recognition of his. Her slender frame was dressed simply, in a white skirt topped with an equally fair jacket. A chain of gold encircled her graceful neck, its splendor incomparable to the shining eyes that rested upon him. They were just as he remembered, his stirring heart assured him. They brimmed with an inextinguishable joy, offered a grin to the world, and expected nothing in return. He felt his breath slip out from between his lips.
He willed himself to say something. "Hi - Hikari?" He regret speaking immediately after hearing the metallic rasp of his voice, something he guessed had developed with extended lack of use. The vision before him smiled and closed the distance between them quickly.
"It's been a long time," she said gently, stopping in front of him and fixing her eyes on his.
He found it hard to do anything but nod. Her very presence seemed to overwhelm him. He felt himself momentarily blinded from the light that emanated from her very being, and blinked. It had been a long time. He fought with the cobwebs of memory to the day that they had left each other, the day that he had had to separate from the one true friend and purpose in his life. Few words had been said, their absence filled with the purity of their emotions.
Not long after their second round of adventures, many of the group of friends had drifted apart, finding little to keep them together with the ending of their cause for unity. He and Hikari and remained steadfast, and were there to see the last of them off on the continuation of the life that had been so briefly interrupted by the something 'greater' that had drawn them all together. Life had been fine, if mundane, when only they and their families had remained. Time had passed, their relationship had solidified, but the development of future outweighed that of their friendship and budding romance. Hikari left to go to school overseas, and while Takeru had wished her all the happiness in the world, part of him regret letting her go.
She watched with her head tilted slightly to the side and waited for him.
"How ... have you been?" He asked the question suddenly. He needed to make her speak, to hear her voice ...
A smile. "I've been well." Her lips pursed and a small hand was on the sleeve of his jacket as if it should never have been anywhere else. "But actually, Takeru, I've been worried about you."
He raised his eyebrows and coughed in what he hoped was a light manner. "Why would you be worried about me?" He refused to meet her eyes until her hand was on his cheek. He willed his knees to be steady as a warmth was emitted from her touch that sent tendrils of radiance down into his darkest corners.
"Takeru," she began slowly, "I want you to know something. I want you to remember back when we were children, back when we had to fight for our lives and the lives of so many others. Do you remember?" He nodded with a slight smile. How could he forget? "That's good, Takeru. I want you to remember that because I want you to do something important for me."
His brow wrinkled and his eyes sought hers for answers, but he found in them only a patient determination. She spoke again, her voice resonating quietly. "You have to remember yourself, Takeru, you have to remember the person that you used to be. You have to remember the joy that you used to have, the happiness, the hope ..." she paused, and it looked as if her eyes were filling with tears. Her voice was calm. "You need that hope that you were once so filled with. You need that, my dearest friend, because the world needs it.
If you, its champion, has hung his head in defeat, what is there for the least of us? Takeru, the world isn't pretty. There is death and sin on every side and situations may look pointless. But when have we ever let ourselves be beaten by poor odds? When did we ever give up?" He was weeping by this time, and the woman before him held his face in both hands. "Don't give up. You must refuse to bend to the indifference that plagues this place and these people.
You have to promise me that you'll never lie down and surrender again, Takeru! You have to give me your word that the world will have one more knight to give it hope and give lives meaning. It doesn't have nearly enough, and so that makes you and the purity that you possess all the more essential. So promise me."
Tears slid down his cheeks. He didn't question her accuracy of the burden held in his heart for so long, nor did he question the timing of her presence or the preciseness of what he had needed to hear. He realized suddenly that he had been lacking only a reminder of the purity that was still able to thrive in the world, and that a love that was far away did not diminish the fact that it was a love. Hope had to exist in the world because change could be brought about no other way. A revelation washed over him, rivaling the flood of comforting warmth and light that he felt from the palms of her hands that still rested on his cheeks. He shut his eyes as he felt his sobs ease.
"I promise, Hikari." He took an unsteady breath. "I - " He opened his eyes, feeling that his neglected heart was at once again whole and eager for encouragement. There was so much he had to tell her, so much he had to thank her for ...
She was gone.
Mouth agape, Takeru touched his still-warm cheek and tried to imagine where she could have fled to, and so quickly. His heart continued to beat wildly, as it had from the power of her words, and he released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.
Tears rapidly drying, his eyes slid up and down the dark street, and then stopped. Who knew the ways of his friend? he thought with affection. He blinked again, delicately touching and turning over this new, but familiar feeling that nestled within him. At an earlier time, he might have questioned whether or not she had been there with him at all, but now -
He smiled and straightened his shoulders. Now, he had a promise to keep. Blowing a kiss to the midnight air and trusting it to find her, he turned and headed for home, a bounce in his step that had been absent for years.
_______________
She stood with her forehead against the cool of the door, eyes shut. Her hand had found the set of keys in her pocket, but her heart found no real reason to enter the apartment. The day had been like any other day - agonizingly routine and lacking in any definable purpose. She had gone to work - the word left a bitter taste in her mouth - and come home, just as she had the day before, and the day before that. Taking a breath, she wondered if perhaps the cause of this unbearable, unbreakable circle was entering this very doorway. If she stopped altogether, perhaps something would change. Perhaps something for the better.
A mewling on the other side of the door cut into her thoughts. She opened her eyes without seeing and mechanically slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door open, a small white figure peered up at her with cerulean eyes. A tail twitched. She smiled briefly, and knelt to scoop the little cat up into her arms.
She murmured an apology into its fur, listening to its erratic purrs as she set her keys on the table after locking the door behind her. The darkened kitchen presented no obstacle to the questing hands that pulled a solitary can of cat food from a low cupboard, and she felt no need to turn on a light as she knelt. Her small companion stepped lightly from her embrace and padded across the floor towards the object of its interest. After fumbling with the can opener, the food was emptied into the bowl and the cat's attention shifted abruptly away from her. She remained on her knees for a moment, watching the animal focus solely on the task before it. It summed up her essentiality in the creature's life - the bringer of the food. Fondness could not extend any farther than that point. Her partiality to felines in general did not seem to translate the opposite way, and she sighed silently.
She stood in the pale darkness cast from the rising moon outside her window and ignored the protests of her stomach as she turned away from the kitchen. She didn't really need anything tonight, she decided. She would eat something tomorrow morning. Besides, it was probably for the best not to - conservation of goods was a wise idea when funds were as tight as they were. Her little reserve of money was beginning to dwindle, and was diminishing more quickly than she found herself able to keep up with.
The puckered couch in her 'living room' looked inviting. She eased her thin frame down onto it and shut her eyes. If she could have seen herself the way she was now, years after her life had faded from the colors of the past, she would have been surprised. And disappointed. Her thinning, mousy-brown hair surrounded her drawn face on the cushion, forming a sort of sad halo. Her once flawless complexion was now wrought with shadows - a pitiable irony. Shadow. Faint ocher eyes fluttered briefly with the recognition of that word. Shadow was a major part of her life at the present time. Her mind was in shadows, her thoughts were in shadows. Her heart ... She snorted. Her heart was a shadow. A shadow not of darkness, not yet, but a shadow of what it once had been.
A long time ago, she never would have believed that life could become what she lived through now. Surrounded - and protected - by family, by friends, by him, she was certain that life was a thing of charm and beauty. She was certain that its uniqueness was meant to be cherished and pride was to be taken in it. Only now did she realize that uniqueness did not truly exist, and that she was one of many. Too many. And it appeared that there was not enough happiness to go around.
She had been happy. She had led a charmed life, encircled by a family that cared, a destiny - if a short-lived one - that gave her purpose, and by friends that she valued above all else. There was one friend in particular. She smiled in the dark, recalling the delicate outline of his face and smiling azure eyes, the teasing frown of his lips. She had had more than happiness then. She had had love for him, and therefore for everyone else who wished it. Her heart had harbored love for the world. She had once crusaded to save it for a future that she was now beginning to discover might not have been worth the sweat and tears it had cost. Her own life, she decided, was not worth a tear. Her future had once been bright, and while her eyes had been open with the optimism and enthusiasm of youth, they had also been blind. She had left behind everything to find her purpose, to discover herself. And she had found nothing.
Having once shown promise, she discovered much too late that she was only as unique and exceptional as she had been when in the presence of those who had decided that she was so. Separation from her family had degenerated her into another human being - another slave to the surrounding world that took all and offered nothing in return, save a measly paycheck and an assurance of promotion in the coming years. Such torment was magnified by the fact that she had once been special. She had once saved the world! So why was it now so difficult to keep scholarships and earn a living on her own? Wasn't she owed something? Didn't any of the fantastic obstacles she had conquered mean that she had been destined for something greater? She had slid downwards all the farther after having been up so high, lethargy enveloping her with the realization that she was but one of billions just the same as she was - hopeful, brimming with dreams and ideas ...
Well, she used to be anyway. She dismissed the thought with a roll onto her side and made up her mind to sleep.
The perpetual tick of her clock chided her about the lateness of the hour and how she should have been asleep long before. Tomorrow would not be a good day. The decision was already out of her hands and she bit her lip with her eyes closed. Was it even worth it? An inner voice cried out at her, refusing her mind for one more moment the blankness that was its only comfort. What could this life possibly achieve? With those words spinning in her head, she brushed away the answer that made an effort to spring forth and resigned herself to the dreamlessness of her sleep.
Before she could, however, there was a knock at the door.
She opened her eyes and studied the blackness in front of her. The sound had been very soft, even in the silence, and had it been lower she would not have heard it at all. It was just loud enough for me to hear, she thought. At another - earlier - time, she may have attributed that knowledge to her infamous 'sixth sense', but these days she found herself barely having all five senses, let alone six. The sound did not repeat itself as she rose from the couch. Whoever was outside of her door seemed to wait patiently for her while she ran a hand through her short hair and hoped she looked minimally presentable.
The watery glow of the moon shone over her shoulder as she reached the door. She decided against turning on a light - her neighbors would most likely not appreciate late night visitors. On that note, who would be visiting her at this hour? Come to think of it, who would be visiting her? She, regretfully, hadn't spoken with her brother or parents for weeks. She had meant to do something about that, but her hours had been hectic and her midterms had been ... difficult. Maybe it was someone from her job, or from the school. With a frown, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
And stared.
His features lit by the light of the moon behind her, stood a grinning figure that may have been cut directly from her past and taped to her doorway. His hair, strands of spun gold, still rose in radiant defiance around his head and tender face. His mild mouth was upturned and open slightly to reveal still-perfect teeth. Her eyes traveled up his face to meet his, and were taken aback by their gentle intensity. They were still the startling blue of her memories, reflecting the nonexistent summer sky and transforming it into a warmth that she had not been able to find anywhere else.
Her hand completed its agonizing journey to her mouth. "Takeru?"
His smile grew wider. He was not dressed extravagantly; white dress pants and a white shirt with the top button undone to partially reveal the flawless pastel skin of his chest. A chest, she noticed through her blurred vision, which had filled out slightly in the past years, along with slim yet powerful arms and shoulders. A hand, encircled by a plain gold bracelet, met hers and brought it away from her face and to his cheek. "Yes, Hikari. It's me." The sudden warmth of his skin prompted her to speak.
"It's been so long." He nodded slowly, his eyes still on hers, and said nothing. She watched him a moment more before clearing her throat. "How has everything been going for you? I mean, when I left you were -"
A finger placed on her lips stopped her and Takeru motioned towards the dark apartment behind. "May I come in?"
"Oh, of course ..." She blushed furiously, grateful for the partial dimness, and moved out of the doorway to allow him to pass. Smiling demurely, he released her hand and moved into her home. She studied him as he went, half agape at the grace and fluidity with which he moved. His passing left a pleasant tingle of electricity in the air that she noticed dazedly as she closed the door behind her and joined him on the couch.
He moved closer to her as she sat, and she felt the heat from his skin on her own although they were not touching. She drew strength from it. "How's Yamato? I've been hearing good things about his band and my friend - " He shook his head slowly at her words and peered into her eyes, silencing her.
"That's not what I came here to talk about, Hikari." She frowned, and he smiled in answer. "I came here to talk about you. I've been worried." She tried to laugh at that, but it sounded more like a choked sob. Maybe it was, she thought.
"What have you been worried about? I'm a big girl, Takeru." She let her eyes drop and studied the carpet. A kind hand tilted her chin and angled her eyes into his once more.
"While that may be true, it still doesn't mean that you don't need anyone."
She brushed his hand away. "I don't know what you're talking about. I mean, the fact that you're here is enough surprise for me, but ..." She found herself unable to continue as she examined her gaunt reflection in his eyes. A lump formed in her throat, and she bit her lip.
He allowed her to sit in silence a moment before speaking again. "You haven't been well, have you?" She shook her head, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. What was worth hiding from her childhood friend?
He nodded as if he had known the answer. "You'll get better, Hikari. It will get better. You have to trust me on this one." He paused and allowed her to wearily put her forehead on his shoulder. He touched her hair gently. "It doesn't look good right now. I know it doesn't. But I also know something else. I know how strong you are, and I know how these shadows that surround you may seem like they can defeat you, but they will not. You can't let them." She nodded into his shoulder.
"You have a better destiny awaiting you than the one that lies at the end of this road. You have seen the path that you are meant for. Take it, Hikari! The world is not as unforgiving as it seems. You are special. You are unique. You are you, and that is what matters most." Tears stained his shirt. "You mustn't let the light die, Hikari. The world is, unfortunately, dark enough already."
Tender lips moved against her head. "You used to be filled with this light. You know you were and you know that you have to find it again. Will you find it for me?" She breathed in his essence, and nodded, suddenly sleepy. "That's the Hikari that I know and love," he murmured, and slowly moved so that she way lying full on the couch. He brushed a strand of hair from her closed eyes, and watched her breathing fall into a light rhythm. He smiled, and moved away from her side.
The small white cat regarded him with fascination from the kitchen. It moved towards him and wove its way between his feet, making him stop on his way to the door. He bent and gathered it into his arms, feeling its heart beat slowly against his chest. A loud, content purr echoed in the silent room and he stroked the fur behind its ears for a few moments.
"Take care of her for me," he whispered finally, and placed the now-dozing cat upon the chest of the woman on the couch. He watched her smile in her sleep and wished her pleasant dreams and the courage he knew she would find for tomorrow. He turned then and left the apartment, leaving a locked door behind him.
_______________
In the emerging light of the morning, two figures - a man and woman - stood alone on a beach before the ocean. Their white sleeves fluttered quietly in the early breeze, and their solemn faces studied the water ahead of them.
"How was he?" The man asked of his companion finally. Morning light glinted off of a bracelet on his wrist as he reached for her hand.
She smiled and patted it. "He was handsome, beautiful even. He has grown up extraordinarily." The man nodded and smiled slightly. "How was ...?"
He laughed good-naturedly. "A vision. She was a vision. Her inner strength has dimmed, but it has not been lost. Far from it in fact." The woman closed her eyes, her free hand moving towards her throat and the gold necklace that circled it.
"Do you think we did the right thing?" The man was silent for a only a moment.
"Yes."
"Do you think they will be alright?"
"Yes. The world needs them - they will triumph as they have innumerable times before. They're special. Not invulnerable, but special. Their strength lies in their souls, which this place cannot touch." He looked to the lightening sky above him. "They cannot be touched." His companion nodded once, satisfied. Then, as one, the two moved together towards the ocean.
If glanced at casually, it may have seemed as though they were simple man and woman strolling on the beach. But if examined closely, they were not at all, but were nearly transparent duplicates with a handful of flaws in the copy. Their faces were one moment bare and smiling, and the next concealed by a pair of silver masks. In addition, it was as though feathers covered their shoulders and backs, enclosing them in a white radiance as they strode towards the sea, leaving the sand smooth and untouched behind them.
And then at once, they were not there at all, leaving only the promise of another day in the light of the coming dawn.
