Chapter Six: The Demands of Fate

"There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be."
-John Lennon

After the conclusion of Hannibal, Davina found herself to be feeling considerably better. The realization came as a true relief—it was nearly midnight now, and she had begun to feel quite tired. The urge to call her mother and ask her horde of questions still lingered, but despite the fact that it was now well into the morning hours over in her home state, Davina still hesitated. She knew for certain that her mother would now be awake, drinking a cup of black coffee and scowling over the day's newspaper as she prepared to head into work for her Friday, but odds are that a phone call of such an strange nature would hardly be welcomed.

Overall, Mitsuyo was a decent mother—Davina and her older brothers had always been well taken care of, with all of their base needs being met. But she was not a particularly loving person, and lacked patience when it came to emotional matters—she had always been this way, keeping everyone, including her own children, at arm's length. Their father, Jason, was nearly her complete opposite—he was warm and affectionate, easy to talk to and far more open minded than his wife. While growing up, there had been no contest over who her favorite parent was, and both of her brothers echoed that sentiment.

Davina often found herself wondering just how the unlikely pair had managed to have a successful marriage for the better part of thirty something years. She knew it had a great deal to do with her mother typically having all the control in the relationship—her father was somewhat of a push-over, who would protest from time to time but eventually submit to her will. Whenever Davina had needed to talk to someone, she had always gone to Jason—the handful of times she had attempted such a thing with her mother, she had always been coldly dismissed and warned that she was failing to be self sufficient. It was because of this Davina was absolutely dreading the thought of reaching out to her—and it had to be her, given that she was the one with the pendant in question. Odds were that her father would know next to nothing concerning it, if he even recalled her owning such a necklace to begin with.

She reached for her phone, once again making it as far in the process as having her mother's number pulled up and her finger hovering over the call button before she lost her will to follow through with her task.

"Fuck it," she said aloud to her empty bedroom, finding the use of the vehement word therapeutic as she ultimately decided to abandon her efforts for the time being. Best to let it settle and hopefully, with enough time, push it out of her mind. The interaction with the alien-like creature would never be truly forgotten, but she could try to bury it as deep and as best she could and hope to high hell that such a meeting would never occur again. Perhaps the creature had mistaken her for a different person, and her mother owning a similar trinket to the one she had been gifted was a simple coincidence—it certainly was hard to believe, but it was a possibility…or so Davina lied to herself. Whatever the case was, the likelihood of her getting legitimate answers to her many inquires was exceedingly slim, so there was little point in harboring them. Despite the sound logic, the notion frustrated her immensely. But in the end, she decided to do her best to ignore the demanding of her brain to seek further information. She didn't want to become consumed by her concerns, lest they cause a cavalcade of issues.

Davina continued on with her viewing, beginning the movie Red Dragon as she settled back into the odd little nest she had created among her pillows and collection of throw blankets. Eventually, she fell victim to her fatigue, giving into the beckoning lull of sleep, the haunting instrumental music of the third cinematic chapter released of the Hannibal Lecter series her lullaby.

. . .

It was just before noon when Davina awoke Saturday—she had come to with a slow start, making her way to the bathroom to wash her face before realizing what time it was. Internally, she cursed herself for sleeping in so late, but knew the rest had been well warranted. She felt better now that time had placed some distance between her and the occurrences of the day prior, her mind having calmed itself after her lengthy slumber. After ingesting some caffeine, she got to work on her tasks for the day, finishing up the remaining chores around the apartment, which thankfully wasn't much. Afterwards, she quickly showered, changed, and ventured over to the market to do her grocery shopping.

Just after leaving her complex and en-route to the store, Davina thought she noticed a familiar face while making her way passed a row of suburban homes that sat farther down on her same block, but on the opposing side of where she was walking. Upon closer inspection, she realized that she was correct—it was Kazuya that she saw, the owner of the Koeda Café—he was outside, in the middle of watering his lawn and the small but beautiful flower garden that encompassed the front of the tall white house. As she drew closer, he took notice of her, sending a quick wave of hello her way and smiling kindly—Davina returned his friendly gesture before continuing on her way. She had assumed that he lived somewhere in town, but hadn't realized just how close—they were practically neighbors.

Sneaking a casual glance at his home, she found herself admiring the pristinely kept premises from afar. She eyed the flower beds with appreciation, spotting several that she recognized—among them were blossoms of rich lavender, vivid orange yellow marigolds, and several tall bushes of bright red roses in glorious full bloom. It struck her as a bit odd to see the temperamental plants in such a flourishing state—if she recalled correctly, roses typically flourished between the months of May and June, but tended to suffer during the heat of summer, and wilt come fall. August only had a mere two days remaining, and yet these roses appeared to be untouched, full and blossoming even as the autumn season grew near. While strange, Davina didn't spare the notion a second thought, opting simply to enjoy the colorful sight as she ambled her way onward.

It was nearing four when she returned home, several large bags clasped in her arms. She unloaded her items and stored them in their proper places, all the while contemplating what to do with the remainder of her day.

Eventually, she decided to turn on some music and lose herself in some reading—eying her brimming bookcase, Davina glanced from title to title until one in particular caught her attention—The Vampire Memoirs, a fantasy novel by Tracy Briery. It had been almost four years since she last read it—from what she could remember, she had rather enjoyed the heartbreaking story that surrounded the centuries old main character. Carefully, she withdrew the book from its place, its cover fairly dog-eared and pages yellowed—it had been a thrift-store find, one she had purchased on a whim for less than a dollar. It seemed good a choice as any, so she placed it atop the small coffee table that sat in front of her couch in the tiny living room of her apartment before slipping into the kitchen to prepare herself a fresh cup of black tea.

Upon her return, Davina placed her steaming mug on the table and cued up an instrumental playlist from the music library on her phone before sprawling out across her couch. Once she was comfortably situated, complete with a downy purple throw blanket covering her legs, she hit play on the first song of the compendium and reached for the novel. The strange, yet oddly comforting aroma of the aged pages wafted up to kiss her nose just as the dulcet tones of composer Gustav Holst's Neptune began to emit from the tiny but powerful speakers of her phone. The eloquently peaceful melodies of the collaboration of wind instruments echoed throughout the entire room, with the subtle addition of delicate harp and chiming tubular bells as the song progressed. It was one of her favorite songs of The Planets orchestral suite, a saga that she had been introduced to as a child by her mother. The soft playing of the classical music inspired a deep tranquility within her, and soon, she was lost within the pages of her current read.

After consuming nearly half of the book, Davina paused in her efforts to relieve herself of the tea she had drank, the remainder of Ludovico Einaudi's Nuvole Bianche performed on the piano falling faint as she left the living room to venture into the bathroom. She reappeared just as Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah began to play, another piano instrumental that she adored—that same song had been one of her absolute favorites to play on the old upright piano back in her childhood home. While her mother had insisted on many constructive activities for her while growing up, learning the art of the piano and how to read music were among the few things that Davina was truly grateful for.

Much like art, making music was both creative and therapeutic, yet another thing she found herself longing for. But unlike the supplies she needed for sketching, her tiny apartment simply did not have the space to accommodate a piano—a small keyboard would even prove to be too much for the minimal room available. It was a sad fact of reality—all she could do was find enjoyment in listening to the music instead of performing it herself. She knew the university had a music hall on its premises, but the odds were that she would have to have some type of special permission to access it and utilize their equipment, and that in itself was enough to deter her from pursuing the request. Not that she even knew who to ask for such a thing.

Instead of reclaiming her place within her novel, Davina perched back on the couch, closed her eyes, and silently absorbed the melody, her fingers dancing in midair as if suspended over an invisible piano, hitting the imaginary keys in the corresponding tones with her nimble appendages. When the song finally concluded, the room fell silent—she surmised that she had reached the end of her playlist, so she snatched up her phone, intent on locating another one. A notification alerting her to an unread message awaited her, and she smiled upon realizing that the correspondence hailed from none other than Shuichi.

It was a short message, simply asking her if they were still on for their meeting the following afternoon. It had come through less than ten minutes prior—she responded positively, reminding him that she was looking forward to their rendezvous and would meet him at the train station at two. It wasn't until just after she had sent off her reply that she realized she should be proactive and select something to wear for their outing, if only to avoid scrambling to prepare just before.

With a sudden influx of energy, Davina headed towards her bedroom, actively rooting around in her closet, searching for something suitable. Since he was keeping their destination a secret, she wasn't entirely sure what to expect in terms of a venue. And there was the glaring fact that her wardrobe selection was less than impressive—she preferred comfort over anything flashy, so most of her wares consisted of jeans, leggings, and comfortable blouses. She hadn't brought a single skirt with her when she had moved, and the two dresses she had relocated with both seemed far too formal for a casual hang out.

Relief washed over her when her gaze fell upon the green sundress she had purchased just a week before—in truth, she had forgotten all about it, in light of her mind being pulled in a vast number of other directions over the course of the past seven days. She pulled the dress from its hanger and tried it on, curiously studying her reflection in the narrow full length mirror that hung from the door of her closet. After a brief consideration, she decided that it would be the best of all her available options—the garment fit her well, and revealed a solid amount of skin without appearing too overzealous. She had a pair of comfortable black flats that would pair well with it, and withdrew them from their home on her shoe rack just to make sure of her choices. Satisfied with the end result, Davina returned everything to its proper place before redressing in her current clothing, and returned to her living room.

Eagerly, she checked her phone, and was mildly disappointed to see that she hadn't received a response. It was just around eight thirty in the evening, so he very well could have been busy. Out of nowhere, her stomach growled, demanding sustenance, so Davina turned her attention to making some supper. After eating her fill, she settled in to watch the last movie in the Hannibal series, Hannibal Rising. The French actor who portrayed a young Hannibal, Gaspard Ulliel, was painfully attractive, and his depiction of the character was deliciously devious. She recalled fondly watching the movie at the theatre when it had first come out with her best friend, Selina, several years prior. Both had readily agreed that they'd be more than happy to permit him to feast upon them, although not in a cannibalistic sense. Really, the man was blessed with a face that could make any woman swoon, even if he was representing a flesh eating murderer with a thirst for revenge.

Thinking about Selina suddenly made Davina feel gloomy—she missed her best friend terribly, even though they had shared a text conversation only a few days prior. But that means of communication was a poor substitute for their previous forms of interaction, which included spending countless hours in each other's company. The urge to message Selina bubbled within her, but Davina knew it was pointless—it was such an early morning hour back in the states, and her best friend, who was a night owl much like herself, would most definitely not be awake to respond. In truth, the realization made her feel even lonelier than she cared to admit.

Luckily, her attention was soon claimed by the movie, and Davina temporarily forgot her dismal outlook. That was until her phone vibrated, having received yet another message.

'Very much looking forward to it myself. I'll see you tomorrow.'

She read the message twice, somehow hearing the words as spoken by Shuichi himself, and found herself smiling.

Returning to her movie, Davina attempted to regain her focus on the film, but found her concentration waning, at best. Her mind kept bouncing to the impending events of the next day, accompanied by an eagerness to see him that she was hard pressed to ignore. But the enthusiasm was mixed with apprehension—it was just a friendly outing, and yet she felt as if she were some vapid princess in a hokey fairytale on the threshold of meeting her prince charming, or some other such childish nonsense.

Davina could hardly bear the anticipation, and hoped she'd be able to fall asleep, lest the expectancy of the future keep her mind from the rest she so desperately needed.

. . .

Shuichi was up just after the sun, already hard at work by the time the rest of his family roused from sleep. He had finished tidying both his bedroom and the bathroom he shared with Kokoda just as his mother began to make breakfast for everyone. While she cooked, he swept the foyer, living room, and hallways. By the time the food was ready to be consumed, he was ravenous. They ate in comfortable silence, thoroughly enjoying the meal and lounging about the dining room for a short while after in an effort to relax and digest. Afterwards, Shuichi tackled the kitchen—Shiori attempted to help him, but he shooed her away, insisting that he would finish it himself. She didn't argue with his assertion, instead opting to remove herself from the house and venture outside to tend the flower beds.

With a careful, glove clad hand, she pruned the stray growths and plucked away the few weeds that had emerged forth from the soil—the minute flower garden she kept was a true source of pride for her, and she strived to keep it vigilantly maintained. Whatever fertilizer Shuichi had used was just short of magical—her flowers were potently healthy, vibrant, and somehow hadn't wilted in the slightest despite the harsh rainfall and scorching summer temperatures. It pleased her when her son had shown an interest in helping her with her garden, and Shiori was truly appreciative for his help—despite having overcome the odds and surviving her severe illness several years back, she would still experience occasional bouts of weakness in her back, hands and feet. They were minor compared to the discomfort she had felt while sick, but there were times that they impeded her accomplishing things she wished to get done—luckily, Shuichi was always willing to assist her, and never once complained about doing so. She was truly fortunate to have such a wonderful child.

While his mother handled the flower beds, Shuichi finished cleaning up the last of the dishes that remained from breakfast. Kazuya had ventured outside to withdraw the lawn mower from its place in the small shed, intending on cutting the grass, which had grown considerably over the past day and a half thanks to the heavy rains. Kokoda returned to his room, the broom and dustpan in hand so that he could neaten his own space. It was nearly noon before all the chores were completed, but the Hatanaka-Minamino house was immaculately clean from top to bottom and inside and out, which made it well worth the effort it had taken to accomplish such a task.

Following a quick shower, Shuichi accompanied his mother to the market to help her with the shopping—they returned home just over an hour later and were greeted enthusiastically by Kazuya, who had returned outside to water the freshly mowed yard and flower beds. Kokoda helped them unload and store away the groceries before returning to the privacy of his bedroom, where the familiar sounds of his current videogame could be heard. Shuichi headed for his own room, intent on getting another page or two written for his organic chemistry paper—he had about two hours to spare before he had to prepare himself for work and wanted to use them productively. In the time allotted, he completed a total of three pages—pleased with himself, he ventured into the kitchen to fix himself a quick snack, and then returned to his bedroom to dress in his uniform for work—he would be running the operation on his own for the evening, as his mother and Kazuya had plans for a dinner date in the city later that evening.

As usual, Shuichi arrived at the café nearly fifteen minutes before his shift was scheduled to start. With it being a Saturday, the Koeda was more crowded than usual, and time passed by fairly quickly due to being busy. Just before eight, he treated himself to a short break since things had slowed down and a good chunk of the throng had dispersed. He took the opportunity to send a message over to Davina, reaffirming their plans for the next afternoon. She didn't respond for the duration of his break, so he returned to work, hoping he would have a reply waiting for him at the conclusion of his shift. The last hour and a half of his work flew by, and much to his relief, the text he had eagerly anticipated was awaiting his perusal. He typed out a quick response, reiterating how enthusiastic he was and that he would see her on the morrow.

During his walk home, Shuichi couldn't seem to shake the smile that insistently perched across his façade. He hoped that Davina would enjoy the venue he had picked for their rendezvous—he found the keenness for their meeting to be almost irritating in nature. It wasn't even a date, nor really a romantic venture at all, and yet he felt like a nervous school boy on the verge of asking his crush to a dance. It was such an alien feeling, one he couldn't recall ever entertaining before, not even in his youth, when he was inexperienced and uncertain.

He hoped that, by getting to know her better, the bizarre feelings that had been plaguing him would lessen or in the very least, be placated to some extent. He wanted to understand just how she was able to instill such peculiar sensations within him, seemingly with no effort at all. If Shuichi was being entirely honest with himself, the notion of being fated to be with her had crossed his mind, but only in the pithiest capacity—he was quite familiar with the concept of life mates, but had never placed much stock in such thing. Love wasn't something that happened on a whim—it took years to build, to fashion with sweat, blood, tears, words, and actions. To accept the idea that his destiny was little more than a predetermined match made by an unseen force was a conception he was not agreeable to—ultimately, it would mean that he had little say in what he was designed for, and the thought of having that freedom to chose stolen from him both enraged and terrified him. He had never taken to conformity well, and had no intention of ever doing so.

Time would tell, as it did with all things. Time was a construct that served no master, and harbored no lies—it never falsified information, or told half truths. It was blunt and honest, and often cruel in its revelations.

Perhaps Shuichi was getting ahead of himself—he knew from previous experiences that he had a tendency to over think things, on occasion. So he forced those thoughts aside, not wanting to ruin what had the potential to be a positive experience, not only for him as an individual, but for his existence as a whole.

'One day at a time,' he mentally counseled himself, knowing that he would have to play his hand carefully, if only to avoid losing himself within the game.

'Take it one day at a time…'

Not too long later, Shuichi surrendered to sleep, the sentiment still echoing within his mind like a protective mantra, bathed in a dichotomy of caution and hope.

. . .

Sunday morning arrived quicker than anticipated—Shuichi felt almost as if he had merely blinked his eyes, only to be roused by the shrill wine of his alarm. Typically, he awoke feeling well rested and ready to seize his day, but this morning, he felt almost sluggish, hesitantly climbing out of bed and meandering his way into the bathroom to tend to his needs and wash the sleep from his face. He cleaned himself up and dressed in a pair of gray slacks and a dark green button down collared shirt with elbow length sleeves, liberally applying his deodorant and spritzing himself with cologne. His mother was awaiting his arrival down in the kitchen, dressed in a flowy blue dress and comfortable white sandals, smiling at him approvingly as he entered.

It was a custom of sorts for Shuichi to share brunch with his mother every Sunday morning, unless work or other obligations had to be attended to—they had been doing so for several years, and he knew that it was something Shiori looked forward to. Sometimes they cooked and ate together in the comfort of home, and others they ventured out to one of several restaurant options. Today, they were headed to the Kawasoba, a quaint bistro on the edge of Kaiden's downtown district that was only open until the early afternoon and had an expansive breakfast menu. The venue hosted a wrap around covered patio area that overlooked the Shinzokawa, the river that separated the city from the surrounding prefectures.

They made their way over to the restaurant in comfortable silence and were escorted to an outside table with a charming view of the river upon their arrival. After a brief interlude, the pair decided on their selections and placed their food orders, making small talk over cups of coffee while they waited.

"So, any plans for later today?" Shiori asked curiously, amidst their conversation about school, work, and familial obligations.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Shuichi offered with a mild smile. "I'm meeting an acquaintance this afternoon for coffee—she's new to the city and attends my university." He kept his tone casual, and the surrounding details vague.

"Oh?" his mother replied, her interest having increased exponentially at his little tidbit. "Well, that sounds wonderful. What's her name?"

"Davina," he responded, fairly inquisitive to his mother's reaction. She had, of course, met most of his girlfriends over the years he had been dating, so her interest wasn't out of the ordinary. "Davina MacKenna—she's American. From what I understand, her mother is a native of Osaka. She's intending to become an electrical engineer."

"Isn't that lovely? So where are you taking her for your date?"

His mother's use of the word 'date' made Shuichi blanch, but only for a second.

"It's not a date, mother. Just a friendly outing."

"So, you aren't interested in her, then?"

"I hardly even know her—I can't rightfully say if I'm interested in her, at least not yet," he explained, suddenly feeling foolish. Even to his own ears, his words sounded dishonest. Shuichi didn't understand his impulse to not admit the whole truth of the situation to his mother, with whom he was typically an open book, only omitting the truths he knew she could never be made privy to for the sake of her own sanity and protection.

His mother met and held his gaze, her dark brown eyes digging firmly into his own. It was as if she could sense his insincerity, but in true Shiori fashion, she overlooked the slight and opted instead to be encouraging.

"Well, I'm sure it will be a wonderful time," she offered, smiling slightly over at him as she softly patted the top of his hand with her own. Feeling almost guilty, Shuichi opened his mouth to say something further, only to be interrupted by the presence of their waiter approaching, bearing a tray carrying their meals. He maintained his silence, smiling over at his mother instead of continuing on a conversation. They ate slowly, savoring their delicious food, and by the time their plates were clean, the mood had mellowed some. The walk home proved longer than the walk to had been, more leisurely as to not upset their full bellies. Upon their return home, Shuichi noticed that one of the rose bushes was looking a little worse for wear—he paused outside on the porch as his mother unlocked the door, intent on fixing it.

"You head on inside, mother," he said gently. "It appears that Kazuya may not have watered the flowers properly before he headed to work this morning, so I'd like to tend to them for a moment. I'll be in shortly."

"Alright. Thank you for a lovely brunch, Shuichi," Shiori replied, fixing him with a warm smile before disappearing into the house and slowly closing the front door behind her.

Once absolutely certain that he was alone, Shuichi approached the flower bed, kneeling down in front of the tall bushel. Focusing his attention, he summoned a minuscule amount of his youkai, pushing into the very tip of the index finger of his left hand, and slipped the digit into the soil at the base of the plant. His appendage met the wiry root of the rose bush, and he pressed the pad of fingertip firmly against the rigid vein, releasing the hold on his power and injecting it into the plant. Almost as if by magic, the roses regained their previous glow of health, looking far more vibrant and full even before he had managed to rise to his feet. Satisfied with his efforts, Shuichi dusted the dirt from his hand, and headed over to the side of the house to grab the hose. He doused the small garden in a liberal spray of cool water, and then returned the tool to its place before heading inside.

He eyed the clock as he washed his hands at the kitchen sink, realizing that it was just about noon. He could feel his mother's presence lingering within the confines of her room, so he decided to venture into his own for a while, in hopes of mentally preparing himself for his impending rendezvous with Davina. When one thirty crawled around, he refreshed up and headed for the door, wishing his mother a fond goodbye before leaving to make the short walk over to the train station. While he felt as if his preparations were indeed adequate, he still felt somewhat anxious, but his tension paled in comparison to the anticipation he was entertaining.

Shuichi made it to his destination a solid twenty minutes prior to their arranged time, and selected a seat to perch in, keeping a watchful eye out for that familiar glint of copper as he casually surveyed the depot's entrance. It was five of when the beacon he had been actively seeking finally appeared, and he smiled as she glanced curiously around the perimeter, eventually locking eyes with him and mirroring his façade. He felt his breath catch in his throat as she ambled closer, the sight of her clad in that figure hugging sundress causing something deep within him to howl with desire.

The calm he had been feeling vanished swiftly, replaced with ravenous carnal hunger. He may have had a smile on his face, but a war was raging just beneath the surface. He was overcome with the urge to go to her, but refused, remaining in his seat as she approached him. Shuichi could feel the weight of curious glances being thrown her way as she walked, and fought the urge to growl—how dare they look at what was his.

'Mine,' his mind shouted in an alien voice, sounding almost crazed. 'Mine, mine, mine…'

'Fuck.'

Not a word he used often or lightly, but painfully appropriate for the current situation.

This was going to be an interesting afternoon.

. . .

Author's Note: Thank you to the anonymous reader who left such a kind review. Your words of encouragement made my entire day, and prompted me to post several more revised chapters. I truly appreciate you taking the time to leave me your feedback.