EPILOGUE
Some months later, the letter caught up with Hikaru Hiyama. She was in Tokyo, at an apartment she had rented, having just arrived home from a long, hard day's work. She had just been daydreaming about the quaint little hotel in the Adriatic when she noticed the missive in her mailbox. Noting the postmark, she felt a little chill run down her spine and quickly rushed upstairs, at once dreading and anticipating its contents.
Sitting down on the sofa in her small living room, she carefully slit it open with a letter opener. She drew out a little slip of stationery, neatly folded, and read it. It was brief and straight to the point. Underneath the typewritten message there was something handwritten, from the butler Cardiff.
The paper slid from nerveless fingers. Hikaru covered her face with her hands and began to moan.
------oOo------
The phone rang.
"Hello? Kasuga residence."
"Madoka?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Madoka-san?" She heard a sob escape the feminine caller.
"Hikaru? Is that you? Are you okay?"
"Hi… Is it alright if I come over?"
"Uh, sure. But why are you crying?"
A brief pause answered her. "I… I think I'm going to need some company tonight."
"Hold on." She looked at the wall clock. "I'll go to your place."
"No, it's okay, I'll come over."
"Don't be silly. Wait for me. I'll be there in an hour."
Another muffled sob. "Alright."
"Who was it?" Kyousuke's father, peering at some photos through a magnifying lens, asked.
"Hikaru, Father." Madoka went to Kyousuke's room and knocked on the door.
"Yup?"
"Hikaru just called. She sounded pretty upset."
"You think…"
She nodded. "I'm going to her place."
"Wait. I'll just get dressed."
"Anata, I don't think she'll be good company tonight."
"Tough. I'm coming anyway."
It was a long, tiresome ride through the traffic-filled Tokyo streets. Madoka impatiently honked her red Mini's horn at the other drivers and began to wish she and Kyousuke could fly.
"You want me to do anything?" said Kyousuke, sitting in the seat beside her, getting impatient himself.
"Can you?"
"Get into that side street," he ordered. When she had done so—to the accompaniment of yells from other drivers as she rudely cut across lanes—he told her to move the little car into a shadowy part of the road.
"Stop." She watched as Kyousuke's brows came together. "Hold on."
The world disappeared in a wavering shimmer.
------oOo------
"Madoka! Sempai!" the girl exclaimed after she had opened the door. "You said an hour…" She looked back inside her living room. "It's a mess," she said, moving aside so they could enter.
As they removed their shoes and put on guest slippers, the only mess Madoka could see was Hikaru's handbag on the low glass table and an envelope on the floor. She went and picked it up.
"Hikaru…" Madoka looked at her with eyes full of sympathy.
She burst into tears.
Madoka stepped forward and hugged her. "I'm sorry."
"You were right," Star-chan whispered, "when you asked why I went and fell for him. Oh, it hurts so much! So much!"
"Here, sit down," said Kyousuke. "I'll get you something." He disappeared into her kitchen.
Madoka kept her in an embrace as she cried. "May I see the letter?"
"I threw it in the wastebasket."
Leaning forward, Madoka retrieved the wadded ball from the container by the table and smoothened it out, reading as she did so.
"Look," she said, "there's a note from Cardiff. Why don't you call him?"
Hikaru, instead, kept on crying.
"Oh, Hikaru." Madoka hugged her again and rubbed the other girl's back.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," said Hikaru, trying to stop, taking deep breaths.
"Shush. Let it out."
After some minutes, Kyousuke returned bearing a tray with two cups of tea. "Here. Maybe this will help."
Madoka took one for herself and gave the other to Hikaru. "Come on, drink this."
In between wheezing breaths, her young friend complied.
"I'm sorry," she said, steadying the cup in her shaking hands. "I'm such a bother."
"No, that's okay," Kyousuke said, trying to cheer her up. "It was boring in the house anyway."
Madoka flashed him an angry look. "What he means is, we'd rather be with you."
"Thank you," said a grateful Hikaru, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sempai, thanks." She sipped some more of the tea.
Madoka and Kyousuke looked at her expectantly.
"What am I going to do now?" She looked like a little lost girl. "I just want to curl up somewhere and die."
"I suggest you call that number," said Kyousuke, wanting to make up for his earlier faux pas.
Hikaru quailed. "I… can't just yet."
"Want me to call for you?" He looked at the letter. "It did say anytime."
"Would you?" Hikaru said. "No, I'd better do it myself."
"It's no problem." He picked up the phone and began dialing. After a minute or two, he began talking.
"You should get a hold of yourself, Hikaru," said Madoka. "I know it hurts, but crying won't solve anything."
Hikaru nodded slowly.
They heard Kyousuke say, "No, I'm afraid she can't come to the phone just now."
She waved at him, gesturing for the receiver. He gave it to her.
"Hello?"
"Ah, Miss Hiyama? Cardiff here. I'm sure you remember me."
"Yes, of course."
"If you're free the day after tomorrow, I'd like you to go on a trip."
"Where?"
"Nowhere very far. Andrei… Mr. Pagott left something for you."
"I'm free then."
"Very well, then. Shall I have you picked up, say, 7 AM?"
"Sure." Hikaru got her handbag and quickly scribbled down some details in a little blue notebook.
"On Sunday, then."
"Wait… Cardiff-san."
"Yes?"
"How did he die?"
"He… His heart just stopped, while he was surrounded by friends and family."
"Why didn't he… why didn't he at least call me, tell me goodbye, tell me to come back?" It was selfish, she knew; but she could not help it.
"He said he didn't want to burden you. One of the last things he spoke in farewell was your name… with love, I might add."
"… Thank you, Cardiff. I'll be waiting." She gave the receiver back to Kyousuke, who replaced it.
She sighed. "I'm never going to get over this," she mumbled. With her distraught eyes full on her sempai, she asked, "Why am I so unlucky in love?"
Madoka placed a hand on the small of her back. "If it's any consolation, Hikaru, you've still got us by your side."
"Yeah." She sniffled. "I guess that's true."
She stood up. "Thanks for coming, Madoka-san. I'm sorry I bothered you. I couldn't stand being alone. If you want to sleep over…"
"I'd love to, Hikaru, but what about Kyousuke?"
"Oh, no problem. I've got a futon I can use."
"What? And get blamed for making you sleep on the floor? Uh-uh." He pointed. "I can stay on the sofa, if you don't mind."
"Are you sure?" Hikaru asked.
He nodded. "I got by on far less in Europe."
"Okay, I'll just get some pillows and blankets." She bustled off to her bedroom.
------oOo------
The new manager of the Hotel Adriano closed his eyes against the bright afternoon sunlight streaming in from his office windows. For a moment in his mind's eye he saw the old red seaplane sailing off into the sunset, to scatter Andrei's ashes over the sea. It was Andrei's father Marco's plane, hidden in a cave below the hotel, resurrected for one last flight.
He remembered doffing his cap as it passed by, and the crewmembers around him, on the Dove, doing the same. Even that crazy young American pilot Andrei had hired was silent and solemn before that flight.
He was thinking how their work would continue, even with the old man gone.
------oOo------
Later that night, Kyousuke tossed and turned in his sleeping place. It wasn't because the sofa was uncomfortable; the sound of the two girls twittering away in the nearby bedroom was what was keeping him awake. Grumbling, he stood and made his way to Hikaru's bedroom door.
"Yes?" came her voice.
"Can I come in?"
"Sure."
He opened the door. The two girls were sitting up in the queen-size bed, both in pajamas, an orange silk one for Hikaru, and a cotton one for Madoka, with vertical violet and white stripes. Both were half-under the covers, but the animated look in their eyes signaled no sleepiness on their part.
"I hate to disturb you, but why aren't you asleep yet? Don't you know what time it is already?" Kyousuke sat down beside Madoka.
"Sorry, oyaji." Hikaru, looking much better than before, smiled at him.
"What are you two talking about anyway?"
"Can't tell you. Girls' secrets," replied Madoka. Hikaru laughed.
"Well, if you're going to gang up on me like that…" said Kyousuke, standing up.
"Just kidding. We were talking about my work," said Madoka. "If I should release it or not."
"And I told her it would be a waste if she didn't," added Hikaru. "They sound good, her songs, don't they, sempai?"
Kyousuke nodded. "I have to agree with Hikaru. Why don't you want to release them?"
"But… they're so personal to me," Madoka objected.
"Ah, you're never going to make any money in the music business if you keep feeling like that. Besides, don't you want to share them with other people?"
"I know that, Kyousuke." She contemplated. "It's just that these are different. Private."
"Sempai… you sounded just like Andrei that time," said Hikaru, a sad, wistful smile on her face. "Always practical, always on the lookout for opportunities."
"I did?"
"Yeah. And since he looked exactly like you… I thought for a moment…"
"Hikaru…" Kyousuke gulped nervously, afraid she was going to cry again.
"Oh, okay…" Madoka interrupted, breaking the silence. "Since you convinced me, I'm going to release them," she decided.
"And be sure to autograph my copy," said Hikaru.
"I won't need one," Kyousuke announced smugly, "since the composer herself will play them for me every day…"
"Hey, what do you think I am, your own personal music box?"
"Just kidding, Madoka."
A question popped into Hikaru's mind. "What are you going to call your album, Madoka-san?"
"Hmm. I haven't thought of anything yet."
"Since you're always working on them in your Powerbook," suggested Kyousuke, "why don't you call it Madoka's Piano Files?"
"Yeah," agreed Hikaru. "That sounds right."
Madoka looked from one to the other. "You think so?"
Both nodded. "Alright, Madoka's Piano Files it will be."
"But sweetheart?"
"What?"
"If it's okay with you, don't include that song you had Mochizuki-san sing."
"Why not, sempai?" Hikaru asked.
Kyousuke shrugged. "I don't want Mister Idol Singer Mitsuru Hayakawa to get his paws on that one." He looked lovingly at his fiancé. "I want it to be something just between us." He shifted his gaze to Hikaru as Madoka's cheeks turned red. "The summer when I met the two of you, and had my life forever changed…"
"Sempai…"
"Kyousuke…"
------oOo------
Sunday morning came. A tall Caucasian stranger, body bulking underneath an ill-fitting gray suit, appeared at the door of the apartment. He was asking for "Miss Hikaroo Heeyamah."
"I'm the person Cariff sent. My name's Karl."
"Karl?"
"Yes." He smiled, and Hikaru found the smile smooth and his gray eyes a bit chilly. "Let's leave it at that, Miss Hiyama. I'm here to escort you to Tanigawa."
So Hikaru set off for Tanigawa Field in the company of this man and another, shorter man, obviously Hispanic in nature. The shorter man, whose name, she learned, was Sandoval—he politely declined to give any other name—was more gregarious and put her more at ease than Karl, who was content to sit silently and drive, never keeping his eyes off the road.
Hikaru was curious. "Why the single names, guys?" she asked in English.
"Eh? Sorry, we were told to keep all quiet and mysterious-like. Since you want to know, I'm Pedro Sandoval—and this noisy man here is Karl Green."
"Who told you to be mysterious?"
"Mr. Pagott did, when he gave us our instructions."
Karl managed a brief glance back. "And I disliked them, I'll tell you."
"Why?"
"You'll see, when we get to the field."
------oOo------
What was supposed to be a two-hour drive stretched out into four. Many arguments, near-collisions, and wrong turns later, they arrived at a quiet little airfield, with a single gray runway sitting under the louring sky. Karl parked the Cherokee outside one of the four hangars lining the runway apron and honked the horn.
A woman wearing a set of grease-stained light blue overalls emerged from a side door. She waved to them with the clipboard she held in her hand.
"Hello, Fiona. Looks like you've been busy," said Sandoval.
The girl with the curly shoulder-length auburn hair and bright brown eyes behind the spectacles nodded. "No, I'm through. I was just cleaning up inside."
"Hmm. And you were getting all the dirt on you," said Karl. "What a gal."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Very funny." She smiled at Hikaru.
"You are Miss Hikaru Hiyama?"
"Yes."
Fiona bowed. "I may not look it, but I represent the Piccolo Aircraft Corporation. As such, I am part executor of Mr. Pagott's will." She pulled off her grimy work gloves and handed Hikaru her clipboard. "I've filled out all the necessary paperwork and permits. All you need to do is sign…"
Hikaru shook her head. "What? Wait, wait, you're talking too fast for me to understand…"
Fiona saw the look of confusion on her face. "Well, I'll make it clearer than words can. Follow me."
She led Hikaru inside the hangar. As Hikaru's eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, she saw a plane standing in the middle, gleaming. It looked familiar.
Hikaru looked at the other girl. "What's Andrei's plane doing here?"
Fiona shook her head. "Must we spell it out for you? Andrei left you his plane. It's yours now."
"If you want it," Karl added darkly.
Hikaru stood rooted to one spot. "It can't be," she said weakly. "I don't know what to say…"
"Hey, don't thank us," said Sandoval, enjoying her speechlessness. "We just deliver the mail."
"Although Pedro here wouldn't mind a hug, Miss Hiyama," Karl muttered. Sandoval shot his companion a dirty look.
"You flyboys think you know everything," he fired back. "With you handling it, it's a wonder Marco's plane didn't break apart and fall into the sea."
"Shush, you two!" Fiona hissed. When the two refused to quiet down, she walked up to them and trod soundly on their feet. That got them to shut up.
"Miss Hiyama, everything's all arranged."
"But how—"
"Don't worry. When Andrei said he'd arrange everything, he did. Piccolo owns this airfield, so fees for you are zero." She smiled. "And you can have this person—" her free left hand shot out and yanked Karl to her side—"as your very own instructor pilot."
Karl grumbled something inaudible. Fiona looked up at him and trod on his foot again.
"Hey! Okay, Miss Hiyama, I'll be taking you through your lessons for the next couple of months. Either me or a Belgian guy named Magain."
Fiona smiled sweetly at him. "You must excuse his grouchy behavior. He's not that antisocial, all that he wants to really do is fly. He gets nervous around pretty young ladies, that's all."
"Hey Fiona," warned Karl, "mind your tongue!"
Hikaru laughed, then bowed low. "Thank you for everything," said she. She looked soberly at the aircraft. "I wish I could thank Andrei for this."
Fiona smiled. "My uncle spoke fondly of you." She handed her the clipboard. "Now, if you can sign a couple of papers, we can legally transfer ownership of this plane to you." While Hikaru went over the documents, she asked, "How are we going to schedule meetings?"
"Well, let's figure something out," said Karl. Now that they were talking about flying, some of his grumpiness disappeared. "Miss Hiyama, you are going to have to tell us when you're available so we can be prepared."
"Yes. I'll take care of it." She walked over to the plane and asked, "Are you staying here in Japan?"
Karl nodded. "Yeah, I'll be mostly around this place. I'll give you a number where you can call me."
"Okay. When can we start?"
"How about today?"
Sandoval glanced sideways at his companion. "You sure as hell don't wanna waste time, don't you?"
Karl looked at him. "The sooner I start the sooner I finish. I didn't sign up to nursemaid a nugget civilian for the next couple of weeks…"
"But you're a frapping silly-villian yourself, you dunderhead…"
Hikaru looked at Karl, and remembered what Andrei had said about his finding an 'heir' to his family's flying traditions. I've found one but he's too military for my taste…
"Karl." Fiona's eyes flashed. "Be nice to the girl."
"Sorry, Miss Hiyama." Karl approached her and, to her surprise, bowed. "It's just that I never… well, that is…"
"He doesn't like cute girls because they distract him and make him look foolish," Sandoval finished helpfully. "And being uncool is a fighter pilot's Kryptonite."
Karl rumbled something that sounded vaguely threatening.
"Oh, don't worry about that from me," chirped Hikaru. "I'm not too particular about 'cool' and 'uncool' things. I'll be the soul of discretion. Promise."
Sandoval appeared amused at his friend's predicament. "Hey Fiona," he said, "let's leave these two alone to start class, shall we?"
"Okay, I sure need to clean up. See you later, Karl…" They filed out the door.
Karl watched his friends go. Someday I'm going to get you for that, he thought. Mark my words. Hell, even Karl Green is an ugly-sounding name. Hikaru thought he looked funny, looking so big and menacing but fidgety and clearly nervous. All because of cute little her.
"Okay," said Karl, his tone unsure. "Let's begin with Level Flight…"
Just outside the hangar door, a pipit trilled and flew away.
THE END
The music has ended, and now there will be silence.
In waking life a person can never be anyone else, but in dreams it is otherwise.
The dream will continue.