Sanguine Falls
Part III
"We can't just leave her like this, Okina! She's getting worse! Did you see what she did to my mirror?"
Misao blinked. She could tell from the feel of the blankets that she was back in her own room. The raised voices were far down the hall but the house was quiet… she could hear everything.
"What do you want me to do?" Okina asked. His voice was low and weary. He sounded tired, a man out of hope and options. "Do you want me to send her away?"
Send her away? Misao kicked off her blankets and hobbled up onto her feet. No! They couldn't send her away!
She stumbled toward her window and yanked it open. A soft breeze blew it, throwing back her curtains. They fluttered around her little frame, brushing against her legs.
She would have to run away! She couldn't let them… she'd heard of the places… they had a new hospital down town. She'd heard scary, scary things about it… research…. Maybe it was silly rumor, maybe it was fact… She was far too frightened to find out. She threw one leg over the sill and tried to balance herself there. Spindly fingers gripped the sill and she paused, listening.
"No, I don't want to send her away… I just… hurt. I just hurt for her… I want to help and she just pushes me away."
Misao hung her head, letting her eyes fall closed. How could she explain what they could already see? Did she have to? Did she need to say anything?
She felt a soft flutter against her cheek. A gentle, tickling against her nose… She opened her eyes and brought her had up seeing something large, black, and winged perched upon her nose. She swatted it away roughly, instinctively pushing herself backward against the wood and almost toppling herself out onto the roof.
It fluttered its wings and righted itself with no apparent damage and came back around, perching on the sill by her fingers. The wings glided up and then down slow, gentle movements. They were almost hypnotic had she been staring at the lacy designs. The wings seemed to be thick with powder, pollen, something… she reached out a finger.
When she was younger she'd taken butterflies, trapped them between sheets of paper and killed them by slamming them between the pages of heavy books. She'd often leave them there, pressing and dried for months before she came across them again by accident.
The butterfly flitted away from her hand. She sighed. Not even a butterfly would come to her. She was that repulsive?
She held out her hand, but it would not touch her skin. It fluttered about in odd circles beyond her reach. Misao tried to lure the butterfly closer with her voice, but it evaded her. After several moments it landed again upon the sill and she looked closer to see it was gently tapping it's mouth pieces against the wet wood. Several spots of water from the recent rain remained. She sighed heavily, annoyed.
She clumsily climbed back over the window and stomped toward the door. She threw it open and stormed into the hall stopping Okina and Omasu's conversation abruptly as they took notice of her.
"Misao-"
Okina and Omasu stared in astonishment, their shock dissolving into strange smiles.
"I'll pay for your stupid mirror, Omasu," the younger girl growled before moving toward the stairs and all but tossing herself down them in her desire to get out. She was stifling. The air in the building was cooking her insides. She was hot and raw like something, well, overcooked.
She didn't want to know, didn't care what they were thinking. Today, breakfast smelled good.
She hummed softly as she stepped outside. The sky was clear and the sun was bright, too bright perhaps. She would have to get a job to pay for Omasu's mirror. Omasu… ugh.
She decided her best options for work were down by the shipyard at the water. There was always work to be found there. She had learned much of the shipyard and the businesses along the waterfront in her earlier years, eavesdropping on Okina and reading through old correspondence.
She attempted to pay no mind to the glances of other passersby but the more that look they looked, the more she became uncomfortable. What were they looking at? What did they see when they saw her? Was she even more horrible in daylight?
Was her thin skin transparent and weak? Did she look like the dead walking? What did she look like? Did Omasu's mirror show her what the world saw or was it something else? Did it vary from person to person, what they saw in her?
She wondered.
She worried.
She drew her arms across her chest tighter and continued on.
"Yo!"
A large, meaty hand descended hard upon one tiny shoulder and then quickly another. The two hands, male hands, she realized, spun her around almost causing her to tip. Her body, light and weak from lack of nourishment seemed like a tree branch just waiting for the right storm to break it.
"You just knocked over my fruit, girl!"
Fruit? She stared past him toward a display that now littered the ground. Colorful, round fruits… oranges? She hadn't knocked over a pile of oranges! Or… had she? Was she so distracted? Her faraway gaze seemed to annoy him and his grip tightened.
"Child! You will pay for those oranges! They are soiled!"
"I didn't knock over your lousy oranges!" she snapped. "And I'm not paying for them you chunky twit!"
That felt good. A return to the old her!
Her memory of Aoshi-sama shimmered and faded and she blanched, her skin cooling. No! She couldn't forget!
She twisted out of his grip with a dexterity that defied her frame only to find herself slammed back into a cart of straw. She hit her head on the wooden plank near the head of the cart and her world shimmered again briefly, her vision blurring. She shook as if to clear it away but the rapid motion made her dizzy. Sound dulled… was the man yelling still?
She kept very still, the slightest of movements making her feel like she was twirling. Her stomach tried to clench and heave and she turned her head to the side praying she wouldn't vomit. There was a gentle flutter against her nose and she clenched her eyes shut.
If she couldn't see it, it wasn't there.
The cart beneath her jerked forward. She heard the whine of a horse and then movement forward, slow. The cart was moving!
She jerked opened her eyes. The dizziness passed her stomach calmed as fear took over. She sat up. There was no irate merchant standing over her, there were no oranges. She looked toward the front see a man hunched over holding a set of reigns.
They clattered along merrily, oblivious to her. Or… had he captured her? She sat up and hopped down onto the ground. The cart carried on. Where was she?
She couldn't have gone more than a few feet and yet… the street was completely unfamiliar to her. Was lack of food and sleep making her crazy?
"I will spare you the curse of madness." The words drifted from the recesses of her memory and she shuddered. No… silly dreams did not … it wasn't…. she turned and began walking. She wouldn't think of it and it would go away.
She walked down one empty street and then another stopping on a corner. She swooped down to pick up a crumpled newspaper at her feet. The headline blared at her, the silent black print condemning.
"Fire at famous Aoiya Restaurant."
What? Her heart, slowing from its previous fright began to pound again. Fire at the Aoiya? Newspaper, why was it in the newspaper? She was just there… just… an hour, more, less, what? When was it?
She turned and started to walk only to remember she couldn't recall where she was. She glanced at the window fronts looking for some familiar landmark, something to spark her memory, but nothing happened. The windows were dull, the doors closed, no one was really milling about. A old man slumped and limping, a young woman sweeping the front steps… where was everyone else? Why was no one about?
She turned and started to run. Run to where… she whipped around a corner and skidded to an uneven stop, balancing her weight against the wall.
"… the fire spread quickly through the building, skipping over to several other buildings close buy. Several are dead including the owner & staff of the restaurant."
Her fingers weakened and the paper fell. Away… she could never run far enough away. A breeze caught the paper, separating the pages and the black printed page landed face up, the title bold and dark. "StormStrikes Port."
She could hear the ocean now. She ran toward it, a smile curving her lips as the scent of the ocean filled her nostrils. She was so close… the grass gave way to sand and the horizon opened up, a beach stretching far left and right. A great span of water was laid out before her, the ocean crashed against the sand. The sound called to her. She walked toward it numbly, her feet sinking into the sand unbalancing her. She was so prone to tipping…
The water rushed over her toes and then her ankles… she fell. Before the blackness settled over her she heard the ocean roar and rushed toward her.
AN: The mystery continues! Oooooh... aaaahhhh. Yeah, see you next time.