Disclaimer: "Haibane Renmei" and all it's characters belong to Yoshitoshi ABe, Aureole Secret Factory and other people. I expect to make no money from this – this is purely a writing out of love.
SLIGHTLY LESS THAN SACRED
He was outside the Temple.
The Haibane Renmei Communicator was out on his evening patrol near the Western Woods. The sun had just set and the evening mists were gathering. The old man walked slowly, gazing out upon his surroundings. There wasn't much for him to do during the days when the Toga weren't coming in or going out to trade, so he took evening walks.
His walking stick thumped gently in the loam, preceding his slow, shuffling feet. He grew hungry. This was not uncommon when he took his walks. The Communicator took most of his meals at the Haibane Renmei Temple, along with the Toga, all eating in silent reverence. When he took walks like this, however, he missed the evening meal.
The old man patted his hip. He felt the hardness of the pan on his belt beneath his robes. He always came prepared when walking out here. He gathered kindling and branches to start a small fire. He sat down on a boulder once the fire was going and let its glow warm his tired feet.
Now was time to see to dinner. He fumbled beneath his robes until he'd found the little sack of dried cake mix he carried. He also brought out his canteen, a wooden spoon, and a small wooden bowl. There was not a soul in the town of Glie who did not love pancakes. Humans ate them, as did Haibane, and even the Toga enjoyed them. The Haibane especially loved them, particularly the children. The Young Feathers seemed to be obsessed with them.
The Communicator appreciated a good pancake, and was quite good with making them. He could make them thick enough that a stack of three made a hearty country meal, and he could make them as thin as crepe's to fill with fruit for a light dessert. He prepared a dry mix for sweet pancakes himself, and brought a little along for any time he was planning to be away from the temple. All that was needed to complete the mix was a little bit of water, poured into a bowl and whisked with the dry ingredients.
Having completed that task, he reached beneath his robe to bring out his frying pan. His pan was a small pan. It was heavy because it was made of iron, but not much of a burden because it was large enough to make only one pancake at a time. The Communicator fished beneath his robe for the object, only to find his fingers caressing something strange.
He muttered and continued to grasp. It was round like the frying pan... Perhaps he had grabbed a different pan by mistake this time? He felt and he fumbled until he finally grabbed the object's handle. He took it off his belt and brought it up before his face.
Ah, yes. That little blonde Haibane with eyeglasses and the New Feather had come to the Temple today to return this. The old man smiled beneath his mask as he turned the Halo Mold around in his wrinkled hands. He decided that he must have put it on his belt and forgotten to put it back in its proper place in the Temple. It smelled strange, sweet – like cake.
The oldest bakery in town had recently begun selling little shortcakes in the shape of halos. The Communicator guessed at how the head baker got the idea. The Halo Mold was a sacred object, not to be used for any purpose other than to make halos for the Haibane, but he would not punish or scold the little blonde Haibane for her action. She meant no harm and the Halo Mold was intact and clean.
The Communicator set the Mold aside and fished around under his robe once more for his frying pan.
"Hmmm?" he grunted. His fingers felt only his bare belt.
He fished some more and came up with nothing. He once again picked up the Halo Mold. He looked at it, and realized that he must have left it on his belt, then mistook its weight on his belt for that of his frying pan when he set out for the walk.
The Communicator was very hungry. His stomach growled. He looked to the fire. He looked to the bowl of pancake batter. He looked to the Halo Mold.
He chuckled to himself softly. What the little blonde Haibane did to the Mold was slightly less than sacred, but there was no harm done.
"Get back here you little brats!"
"Run! Hurry!"
"Dai! Shota! Wait up! I can't keep up with you!"
Three little Haibane ran through a field, away from Old Home.
"No! She's coming! Hurry, this way, or she'll get us!"
A red-faced young woman chased them, huffing, running out of breath. Reki was beyond frustrated.
"Hah!" Dai shouted. "I knew we could outrun her! She smokes all those cigarettes!"
Shota, the other little boy, laughed. Hana struggled to keep up with them.
Reki called after them again.
Hana caught up to the boys. "I think we should go back...," she said.
"No way!" Shota declared. "She's gonna make us eat carrots!"
At this, Hana scrunched up her face in an expression of disgust.
"Come on!" Reki shouted between catching breaths. "You're never going to grow big if you don't eat your carrots! I even put brown sugar on them this time!"
"Ick!" Dai winced. "I don't care if there's brown sugar on them. They still taste bitter!"
"She's coming!" Hana cried.
"Uuaaaaaah!" the boys yelped. They took off running again. Hana followed.
The three Young Feathers ran across the fields until they reached the woods. Reki was well behind them. They had lost sight of her. Hana stopped.
"We shouldn't go in there!" the little girl shouted. "We aren't allowed!"
"What are you afraid of?" Dai chided. "We go in there, hide out, and Reki won't find us. Then we can go back when she doesn't wanna make us eat carrots anymore."
"Kana told me there are goblins in there." Shota said warily. "They might eat us or something."
"Kana just tells stories." Dai huffed. "It's just trees. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come on!"
"I'm not coming!" Hana whined. "I'm going back!"
"Have fun eating carrots!" Dai laughed as he and Shota entered the forest.
The two naughty boys wound their way around tall trees. The forest was dark, though they were still only at the edge of it, and not in the deep woods.
"What's that?" Shota said, pointing ahead. "It looks like a light."
"Let's go check it out!" Dai exclaimed.
They crept closer and closer to the source of the light. They ducked behind a large tree when they saw a man beside a campfire.
"It's the old Communicator!" Shota whispered. "What's he doing?"
Hunched over the fire was the Haibane Renmei Communicator. Beside him was a plate laden with light, round cakes. The cakes had holes in the middle of them. They were each the exact size and shape of a Haibane's halo.
The Communicator took a cake from the plate and pulled up his mask just enough to uncover his mouth and take a bite. After finishing the cake, he grasped a metal object and poured batter from his bowl into it. He put the object over the campfire.
Dai's eyes grew wide upon witnessing this. "He's – He's making donuts with the Halo Mold!" he shouted.
"Sssh! Dummy! He'll see us!" scolded Shota.
The Communicator turned and looked right at them.
"Aaaaaaaah!" both Young Feathers cried at once. They ran back through the woods.
The Communicator gave chase, shuffling along as quickly as his old legs would carry him. He was by no means a match for the two young boys.
Shota tripped over a jutting root. Dai skidded into him and they both tumbled. As they looked up to get their bearings, a tall shadow loomed over them. The boys screamed and scrambled to their feet. As they began running, they found that their feet were not touching the ground.
"Aaaaaaaah!" they both cried as the Communicator held them up by the backs of their shirt collars.
"What are you Young Feathers doing out here?" The Communicator asked in his deep, imposing voice. "We are not on the Temple grounds, so I allow you to speak. Answer me."
Dai warily spoke up. "S-s-sir," he said, "We were – we were out here because we got lost."
"Do not lie to me, young one," the Communicator scolded. "Tell me the truth."
"We were... running away from Reki 'cause she was gonna make us eat yucky carrots."
"Do you know that these woods are forbidden to you Young Feathers?" the Communicator asked.
"Y-yes..." Shota quavered. "We're sorry! Are we in trouble now?"
The Communicator set the boys down. They faced him. Dai spoke up again.
"We saw you making donuts with the Halo Maker!"
The Communicator uttered a small grunt of embarrassment.
"You are not in trouble," the Communicator said, "however, you must tell no one of what you witnessed this night."
"Huh?" Dai asked. "We're off the hook?"
The old man nodded. "You must tell no one about the donuts. No one must know what I did with the Halo Mold. Do you understand?"
Both Dai and Shota nodded enthusiastically. The Communicator, from what they knew, was a man of great and mysterious power. His voice, too, was authoritative and frightening. Both Young Feathers felt grateful that he was not going to punish them for being in the woods. Certainly, they wouldn't tell anyone of what he'd done with Halo Mold – for fear that he would quickly learn of it and do something terrible to them.
"I will take you home," the Communicator said. "Allow me to douse the fire and to retrieve my staff."
The old man shambled back to the fire and put it out. He cleaned his things and put them back on his belt and grabbed his walking stick. He escorted Dai and Shota back to Old Home, where they would face the wrath of Reki. The Communicator assured them that they would receive no punishment from her this night, and furthermore would be glad simply to have them home and safe.
The three walked slowly and solemnly on as the evening shadows lengthened.
S.E. Nordwall aka "Shadsie" 5/15/04