Shattered
The Mystic Moon
Van found Milan waiting for him when he returned. His beautiful, heavy finery abandoned by the river, streaks of blood remaining across his body, clutching his chest, desperate for a breath, Van made quite the picture. Milan, ever the calm and trustworthy advisor, forced Van into the bath drawn for him before Van had a chance to pause and catch his breath.
With no hesitation, Van dunked himself under the water, then scrambled out of the tub, pulling on his simple, loose clothing he kept for lazy summer afternoons. Milan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as Van strapped his sword tightly around his waist and scribbled a note to the people of Fanelia. He finally turned to face his advisor.
"Milan, the blood was from the Mystic Moon. Hitomi is in some kind of trouble. I'm going to her," he quickly stated, handing the letter to Milan. The advisor shook his head, but made no move to halt Van's actions. Instead he bowed and nodded as Van snatched the pendant and squeezed his eyes closed.
"I wish you all the luck in both worlds, my young King."
Van could not think of what this new Hitomi – five years older – may look like. He guessed something, adding a few lines to his dim mental picture and prayed the pendant would know where to find her. In an instant, he heard Milan speak and felt himself being lifted upwards. He drifted through the ceiling as if a ghost in a pillar of blinding light, keeping his eyes shut tightly. Fear coursed through his system, the only reassurance that he may be able to return with the pendant, if it brought him anywhere incorrect.
His feet hit solid ground and his ears exploded with the painful sound of Tokyo's city life. His eyes burst open and were assaulted with vehicles shouldering past each other on the road, huge castles standing next to each other, looming so high they pierced the clouds and continued upward. People that looked somewhat like him, knocked him back and forth as they rushed to destinations unknown to the king. Van stared and rubbed his ears as a vehicle shot by, booming and rumbling with strange music in a language he could not comprehend.
The monstrous carriages emitted high-pitched honks and squeaks as they shifted up and down the hardened… was that even dirt? Van did not dare to get nearer the dangerous-looking road where the vehicles moved faster than any war contraption he could imagine. With fear, he turned his gaze higher, the never-ending buildings, flashing signs, stink of the street, and brightness paining his eyes. Everywhere around him smelt of food and smoke, lying thickly in his nose. Van pawed at the sensation, terrified and emboldened at once. Hitomi lived in this world and had entered his with little difficultly – though, admittedly, his world was much simpler. If she could do it, so could he.
Van turned with determination to begin his search for his once-love and ran into a man laden with papers. They fluttered into the air, the man began babbling angrily, and Van fled, fast, down the paved sidewalk. The cement thudded dully under his boots, sounding unlike the cobblestone streets he was accustomed to.
A young lady stared into a brightly lit window where garments – appearing to be the type Hitomi wore when she first came to Fanelia – hung, gaudily lit. He skidded to a halt in front of her, lifting his hands into the air, ducking his head sheepishly; he hoped his nature was not threatening, but supplicating, begging.
The girl responded as she would to a little lost puppy, immediately starting to speak in that strange manner that Van had noted in the paper man. He shook his head and calmly asked the girl, who was obviously willing to help him: "Do you know where I can find Ms. Hitomi Kanzaki?"
The young lady blinked and stepped back, her own head tilting and bobbing with something akin to fear. Her hands squeezed the bag around her shoulder and she bumped the glass covering the display behind her, saying things Van did not understand. He left her there, trembling, certain that his sword probably frightened her.
And then, a man, his own age perhaps. Van approached him fast, pressing against his shoulder with a hand in a friendly, manly gesture that earned a yelp of surprise. He apologized and quickly begged for any news of his Hitomi. The man's surprise turned to fear and he swung at Van, who leapt backwards, unwilling to fight, cracking into an elderly woman who responded with a painful kick to his shin.
Terrified, Van stumbled through the crowd, hearing the shouts of his would-be pursuers. He caught sight of a stand of trees – a forest, oh thank heavens – and rushed into it. The mid-day shoppers raised eyebrows and shrugged as the man tumbled into the park. Happily they went on their way, unaware of Van's plight.
Van lay down on the cool grass, still within his woods – which turned out to be nearly nothing. He tried to think, but the noise of the city – the shouting, crying, honking – was driving him nearly out of his mind. He began to whisper to himself, hoping that voicing his problems aloud would offer a solution and a sanctuary.
"What is this place… why did those people…" and then, the answer he had wanted struck him forcefully. He rolled his eyes up into his head and groaned, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. These people couldn't understand his language – they spoke an entirely different dialect!
With that unreassuring realization, Van moaned, the sound muffled in his palms.
"But then…" he mumbled, "How could Hitomi understand me… Hell, how could I understand her?" He dropped his hands to his chest, fingering the pendant. Something between them… they must have some kind of connection he did not understand.
Slowly Van pulled himself into a sitting position, realizing he was already learning to tune out the busy noise of this place and focus on comforting, familiar sights and sounds.
The trees around him were tall and thick, isolated from the rest of the world by bushes clumped haphazardly throughout the stand. Birds sat on the branches overhead, chattering to each other, calm in this mad place.
Van munched a blade of grass, trying to regain his senses and ascertain his location. The pendant could have brought him anywhere a girl that resembled his idea of Hitomi lived. The king shook his head. No, certainly if the connection was so strong between the two of them that blood from her world could enter his, the pendant would not fail to bring him to her. His fingers traced its outline, his breathing leveling, his eyes searching into the sky.
Above him, planes passed by and a squirrel leapt from one tree to another. Birds dipped and circled, concentrating on something Van did not bother to wonder about. He stood and brushed himself off, gently tightening his sword, rubbing its hilt for reassurance.
He breathed deeply, calmer, and stepped back out into the crazed world.
Nothing greeted him. Well, nothing he expected, at least. No mob chasing him, no hysterical women. He glanced left toward a large and pretty pond, cherry blossom trees shading young mothers and their children, joggers, and the peaceful considering the water. To his right was a small building frequented by women. He could smell it from here, and so inched forward, away from it. On a path that resembled cobblestones, but was made from the same material as the sidewalk, Van continued slipping forward, trying to relax and blend in with the regulars of this... enchanted place.
He walked around a bend in the path and saw a man rolling around on a bench, snorting and shifting under a pile of the same papers the man Van had bumped into carried. Van immediately walked toward him, as if some instinct had seized him and whispered that this was the correct path.
Reaching the man, Van could not help but recoil. The stink from this… creature was horrendous, putrid. Clapping a hand over his nose, the king leaned closer, eager to discover what pulled him toward this poor man and escape.
And there it was. Just there. Van's voice slithered into a mangled cry and he feel to his knees, grabbing this man's blankets, shock petrifying him.
The cover was red, so red. A young girl, on a stretcher – Hitomi. Her eyes were wide with pain, beautifully green, like emeralds, full of crystal tears and acute pain. Her long hair – when had it become long? – scattered across the cover like rows of golden thread. Van whimpered at the patches of blood on her skin and the begging look on her face – accusing him of not being here in this moment, when she needed him the most.
His eyes skimmed the rest of the page. He could not understand the words marching across in neat little rows and columns, but the chilling paintings illustrated something horrible well enough for him. A picture of a lump, darkly shaded with red, hard to see. Van squinted at it, gagged when he realized it was a pile of bodies – perhaps Hitomi's family or friends, he did not know. Then a pretty little house, the inside walls splattered with blood and gore, comfortable furniture never to beckon to any again. The outside of the home, covered with yellow tape – words he could not understand decorating it – strange men dressed in blue uniforms peering around.
Again and again his eyes were drawn to Hitomi, his darling Hitomi. The more he stared into her photographed eyes, the more he could see the fear in them. And such pain! Such pain Van never knew she was capable of. The paper shook in his hand as he choked on tears. That his Hitomi, that beautiful girl he was once in love with, the girl who had saved his world, should suffer something like this… death, murder, a rampage of destruction… Van could not guess from the grotesque pictures.
A grunt distracted Van from his grief. A hand landed heavily on Hitomi's picture, ripping into her frightened doe eyes. Van let the paper drift away from him, scrambling backwards, tears blurring his eyes.
As his sight cleared, he saw the smelly man who had been sleeping under Hitomi's anguish stand off the bench and cough into his elbow. He bent to pick up the newspaper and Van lunged, desperate to keep his only link to Hitomi in his possession. The man snarled and swatted at Van.
"Listen, you punk, these mah blankets, screw off."
Van did not understand a word out of the man's mouth, but took it as threatening. Still, he did not cease the angry fight for the paper, scratching the man's fingers with his own, hungrily trying to capture her picture.
"What the hell, you little brat. My papers, damn you. Rich little… git yer own!" At this, the homeless man, worn from years on the street, fighting for his property, pushed Van away and crumpled the paper into his hand. Van watched as Hitomi's bloody face was wrinkled and vanished behind this disgusting man.
"Yeah, ya little punk. Mine! Shoo!"
Van, still uncertain of the situation, dug in his pocket for money to bribe him, trying to restrain for a fight in this peaceful place. But his desperation was endless when he discovered not a single penny on his person. The man laughed wickedly, a sound Van understood very well.
"Heartless creature! Would you keep me from saving one of your own people, one who needs me now? I'm the only one who can help her and I beg of you to give me the painting of her so I might continue my search. Please!" Van moaned and landed on his knees, hands open in supplication.
The homeless man was taken aback by the strange language Van spoke. Because not a word was understandable, the man simply gathered his blankets to his chest, including the one Van wanted, and stepped away.
"Not gitting these, you!" he said, and moved quickly to escape.
Van shouted for the man to stop and resorted to the last vestige of hope. His hand wrapped around the hilt of the Fanelian sword and freed it from the scabbard. He took a simple battle pose, feinting at the man.
The action happened so fast, the wandering soul howled in fright, dropping every bit of paper he had. Van rushed toward him, sending the man away screeching "Madman!" at the top of his voice. The king rummaged through the papers, snatched Hitomi's picture, and rushed back into his hiding place – the "woods."
He sheathed his sword and collapsed onto the squishy dirt, breathing heavily. The picture was marred and muddy, but her eyes still gazed at him, begging him to save her. He knelt there and hugged the picture to his chest.
"I'm coming, Hitomi… I'm coming…" he whispered.
His mind was scattered, but Van still worked to think of his next move. He couldn't remain in this place for more than a few moments – that man would surely return with others to reclaim his property and discover the meaning of his blatant threat. Van carefully folded the picture against his heart and stood again.
A thought struck him, beginning to form slowly. The other man – the one he had bumped – he had many of these papers. Hundreds, perhaps. They all would have her picture on it. Yes, and if he had so many of these… he must have taken them. He must be the painter or… at least, he would know where the painter was. And Van… Van could find the painter and discover where Hitomi was. Surely that man would know!
Energized by his idea, Van exploded from the park at a dead run, hurting into the road. He shouted her name as his feet left the pavement, landing heavily on the asphalt without a pause in their speed. The only thing that slowed him was a piercing siren. He doubled over as he ran, the sound paining him, cutting into his brain, stopping his flight to the man with the papers, with her picture.
The ambulance slid to a halt after the decisive thud from the front.
"Shit, Moose, I told you to slow down!" shouted a paramedic from the back.
"Damn, we hit a kid!" said another as Moose turned toward the back.
"That guy is dying, we gotta get him to the nearest care facility! I don't care how fast I gotta go!" he hollered while he and the passenger leapt out of the vehicle to find the body.
"Oh, damn, he's bad," mumbled the passenger. People were beginning to gather to see what the show was about. Moose quickly ordered a stretcher.
"What?! There's no room in the ambulance for him!" the man yelped.
Moose shrugged grimly and moved to lift the boy and continue his journey. "Can't leave him here in this condition, he'll need treatment."
"But… but, a hospice?! People go there to die – not recover from this!"
"We can move him later. Now he needs us," Moose snarled, and the argument was over.
Van's prostrate body was loaded into the back of the ambulance, tilted against a patient who would pass on before the speeding vehicle reached the Hospice. The king was unaware of the movement and the arguments over his head as he was born away. Unconsciously, his hand had flown to his breast where Hitomi's picture and pendant lay, his body curling around them in an effort of protection when he was struck by the ambulance.
The men shook their heads as they barreled into the Hospice's ambulance entrance. Van seemed likely to survive, lying half-on the dead body for much of the ride.
So did Van remain ignorant of his swift ride as Fate bore him ever closer to Hitomi's resting place – We Care Hospice, the place people are brought to die.
Author's Notes: Of course, I apologize for all those who had to wait so long for this to come out. Really, I try to keep track of time and make room for this story – but life never goes as we plan, eh? Reviews will be adored and hugged as usual and I hope the story is beginning to get interesting for you readers! Thanks to anyone who is still sticking by this story. :) I love you all! Thanks for reading.
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Skittles1: So happy you liked last chapter! Hope this… isn't too late. hides We seniors got to stick together! School is so evil. �
YamiVixen: I love getting comments that mush all over my story. (Who doesn't?) But yours was particularly nice – thank you thank you! I hope you are still checking for updates and like this new chapter. Sorry for the long wait!