Chapter Eighteen
Background Theme: New Paradise
"Here," Nabiki said, pushing a small package across the desk in my makeshift office. "This was slated for delivery at the Nekohanten, specifically to Shampoo."
"How did you get a hold of it?" I asked quizzically. Nabiki raised an eyebrow. "The mailman is a senior at Furinkan High. He interns part-time with the local branch of the postal service to support his videogame and manga habit." She smiled, continuing, "He's been doing that ever since his parents refused to shell out a single red yen for his 'wasteful spending on whimsical nonsense.'"
"Here, too, huh?" And I had thought parents only thought that way in America. "Anyway, let's see what's in here. But, carefully, though. If this is what I think it is, it could be quite dangerous.
"What is it?" Nabiki inquired.
I retrieved a small penknife from my pants pocket, opened it, and then proceeded to carefully cut the strings securing the bleached-white paper packaging. Inside, wrapped within several pieces of tissue paper, was a small pouch. Squeezing the pouch carefully between my fingers revealed the contents to be solid, hard, and rough in texture. Donning a pair of latex gloves that I picked up from Furinkan's school supply store, I slowly opened the drawstrings of the pouch and poured the contents into my protected hand. A small, black mass – about the size of a piece of charcoal and with the same texture and consistency – dropped into my palm. Further inspection revealed it to be a root of some sort. I was unable to tell if its state was a natural occurrence or if it had been treated in some sort of fire. Tiny pieces of dark ash flaking onto my gloved hands indicated the latter. I carefully replaced the contents, disposing of the contaminated gloves in a biohazard bag from the Chemistry Department. After donning a new pair, I closed the drawstrings and tied the pouch securely shut.
"Look at this," Nabiki cried out. "This was hidden inside a fold of packing paper." She held a small scroll about four inches wide, secured by a white ribbon. Removing the ribbon and opening the scroll, Nabiki scanned the inked script, her eyes growing wider with each passing moment. "This is unbelievable!"
"What is it?" I asked.
"This is…this is…this is…" she hesitated.
"What?!" I insisted.
"This is written in Chinese. I can't read this," she admitted, closing the scroll and tossing it to me.
"Waaahhh!" I lamented in abject torment as I caught the scroll. Sure enough, the caligraphormed characters of what I surmised was Chinese was scrawled succinctly across the scroll. Near the far right end, in the lower corner, though, I noticed a symbol: a tiny skull and crossbones.
"Poison," I announced, distastefully. "Whatever this is, it's an ingredient for something of poisonous intent. Probably ground up and mixed with other reagents to be ingested orally or to be breathed in."
Nabiki was flabbergasted. "Poison? Shampoo? Why that little…what was she planning? Who was she going to use this on?"
I knew only too well, but I could not let on to Nabiki the "how's" or "why's".
"Your guess is as good as mine," I replied, "but whatever the intent, I'm disposing of this stuff right now. Meet me back here in one hour."
As I stepped out of my office to find a proper place to dispose of the pouch, I began running options through my mind. I could always flush this thing down the toilet, but I had no idea what effect the poison would have on the water in whatever water treatment facility Nerima used. I also had no idea of the potency of the poison or a guarantee that the contents would not contaminate the water table in any way. Visions of dead fish floating to the surface of lakes and streams, eyes crossed in a comical "X" fashion, crossed my mind. That option was out.
Throwing it out in the trash was not a good idea, either. Whether Nerima burned their trash or buried it in a landfill, there was still the danger of direct natural contamination. I could not risk causing harm to the environment. Strike two.
Then it dawned on me that this pouch would need to be replaced with another containing a benign substance in order to allay suspicion – at least until Shampoo attempted to carry out her plan – but where?
"Duh," I said to myself, smacking my forehead. An apocathary, or just an herbalist, would be able to help. Fortunately, the market district was full of such places.
To my dismay, no one in the market district was desirous to help. As a matter-of-fact, they were quite helpful in quickly showing me to the door of their respective establishments when I presented the pouch and its contents. Apparently, no one wanted anything to do with the three ounces of death that I carried, if I understood the last herbalist correctly – my Japanese still stinks outrageously. I looked at my watch. I still had half-an-hour before I needed to be back at the school, but I had exhausted my options thus far.
Walking back toward the school, I passed a corner building that looked vaguely familiar. I did a double take, and walked closer to the building to a sign posted to the side of the stairs leading up to the entrance. Dwarfed by the huge name displayed in Kanji were the English words "Tofu Clinic." A light bulb went off visibly above my head as a cunning plan began to formulate in my mind. Unfortunately, the bright light also caused the glare off my forehead to blind, momentarily, a couple exiting through the sliding entrance doors of the clinic. I bowed quickly in apology, dousing the light, as the affected couple, hands covering their eyes and exclaiming distressfully, grasped the stair railing leading down to the street and staggered pitifully down it. Turning back to face the entrance, I was greeted by another surprise: the incomparable Doctor Tofu.
"Good afternoon," he said politely in perfect, unaccented English. "It certainly is a most lovely day, isn't it?"
"Dr. Tofu, I presume," I said, climbing the rest of the stairs as the final piece to my plan fell into place. Bowing with what I hoped was the correct measure of respect, I stood up to find his right hand extended in the traditional Western means of greeting, a smile on his cheerful face. Smiling back and shaking his hand firmly, I blurted out, "Doctor, I really need your help!"
Standing back from the door and beckoning me inside, he said, "Yes, I know. Please, come in. I've been expecting you."
"Shampoo's going to be expecting that package, Daniels-sensei," Nabiki said, echoing my earlier concern, as she entered my office. "What are you planning to do about that?"
"Substitute this," I said, extending my hand to reveal an identical pouch. I opened the bag and showed her what was inside. Except for a slightly rougher texture, the item was almost an exact duplicate of the poisonous root for which I had exchanged it. "I'm not quite certain what this is, or what it will do, but a 'local herbalist' I met on the way back here assured me that it was harmless to ingest orally or nasally." I decided it was best to omit any mention of my visit to Doctor Tofu's office, since I still had difficulty wrapping my mind around what had transpired during my visit there and I didn't want to chance complicating an already-convoluted situation. I replaced the item in the bag, sealed it, and handed it to Nabiki. "Let's re-wrap this package and send it on its way."
Nabiki looked at her watch. "If we hurry, I can get it back to the mailman for delivery."
* * * * *
Opening: The Forest of the Sky
I had thought Alisha's letter would bring good tidings to me – that perhaps she had come around and would profess undying love for me. God, was I ever wrong.
"I'm so sorry to have put you through this. Last night started out as one of the happiest of my life. He proposed to me, and I was so overwhelmed and overjoyed – I accepted.
"When I left his place, the first person I wanted to share this with was you, my Best Friend. Then it hit me, how much this would hurt you. I know, deep down, how much you love me. And I love you dearly, too. But it came to a choice – and it wasn't an easy one to make. I had to go with my heart, and my heart leads me in this direction. I know I should have at least looked you in the eye and tell you, not taking the coward's way out, but I didn't have the heart to do it when I saw you last night. That's why I was so heart broken. 'Why can't I have my love and my Best Friend?!' kept going through my mind all night. I know it's selfish of me to even think that, but I couldn't help it. I hope you'll understand. I never, ever, meant to hurt you. Please know that."
Short, simple, and bittersweet. That's my Alisha.
I sighed, deeply, my numbed fingers gingerly holding her letter. I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply, held it for several moments, and slowly let it out. "So," I said softly to myself, "it was less of a dream after all." I recalled the phone call in my dream where these same tidings were revealed, the only difference being Alisha's consideration for my feelings in real life. Funny thing, though – I had cried so much in that dream, or at least it felt like I had, that no tears would come. And at the moment, that was quite all right with me.
Interlude: I Can't Get Over Your Best Smile
I went through the motions of getting ready for school. Fridays weren't so bad, though. One class at eight, the next at eleven, and then I was done for the day. Fridays Alisha and I usually met for lunch before going our separate ways for the weekend, unless I was fortunate enough to warrant her attention on a weekend excursion. Somehow, I wasn't sure it would be the case today. Deep inside me, something felt stuck, and I felt like I was held captive in the worst of Limbos. I was on autopilot, going through the motions this morning, barely remembering anything of my Ethics or Finite Mathematics classes. My sullen state lifted briefly when I anticipated meeting My Beloved for lunch – only to be dashed in a fit of despair when she wasn't waiting for me at our usual hangout in the Student Union. Thinking she might have been held up in Chemistry Lab, I walked brusquely over to her classroom. It was mostly empty, save for two students who were finishing up with an experiment. They told me that Alisha had not been to class today. My sullen mood sunk even further. Had she skipped school to avoid me? Why? She was still my Closest and Bestest Friend. Why? I asked again, of no one in particular. I felt myself start to go numb. I turned on my heel, almost tripping, as I staggered back to the Student Union.
The line in the cafeteria was fairly short – it usually was on Fridays. I hadn't had breakfast, and even though I didn't have much of an appetite, I picked up a sandwich and a soda, taking them outside to The Tree, our favorite spot.
It was fairly quite under The Tree, and I was assured of some privacy since most of the student body had left for the weekend. I sat down, leaning back against The Tree, feeling my eyes start to water.
"No, damn it," I cursed to myself. "No tears. Not now. Not ever." Clumsily, I began unwrapping my sandwich. My stomach began doing somersaults in revulsion. I tried to bring the sandwich to my mouth for a bite, but my arms betrayed me, falling weakly into my lap, my hands loosely clutching the sandwich. Tears, held back by the emotional dam I had erected to suppress them, began to spill over the top of the breakwater. I reached up to wipe them away, and then gave up as they spilled in a torrential downpour, the dam collapsing altogether. Setting my sandwich aside, I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees and burying my face so that no one could witness the anguished outpouring of my very soul.
From his vantage point in his office, Mr. Encio watched in quiet concern as his grandson wept, bitterly, over his unrequited love. Then, with stolid determination, he turned back to the paperwork on his desk.
And, somewhere, a quiet voice whispered across Space and Time: Deux Machine.
* * * * *
"Huh?! Wha!?!"
I bolted upright, pushing myself up from the couch, and looked around frantically. My eyes stung slightly as the warm rays of a brilliant sun crossed them, and closed them just as quickly to keep from being blinded. The morning sun was beginning its slow climb into a clear-skied heaven, its radiance being reflected off a picture frame that sat atop the entertainment center located across the room from my couch. I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my irritated eyes, and looked around. I tried to remember the events of the night before.
Alisha. She was gone. I could still feel the slight touch of her weight on my chest and the lingering scent of her perfume on my shoulder. Tear-smudged mascara stained my shirt where she had cried into my chest the evening before.
I sighed. All that turmoil spilled out of a devastated heart…and I had no idea why or as to the cause. I sat up fully, placing my feet on the carpeted floor, and placed my head in my hands. I rubbed my face a couple of times, then looked up.
I tried to make sense of everything. The dream had reached a pause, and now real life intervened. I was certain Alisha would have told me of her troubles before leaving. Unless…I glanced around the room again – and there it was: a letter.
Huh?
Propped up on the picture frame with her picture I kept on top of the entertainment center. It was turned slightly, briefly catching the rays of the sun. I stood up, nearly stumbling over a cushion that had fallen to the floor, and stumbled over to the entertainment center.
What the hell…?
The letter was folded neatly, "Vic" written in her flowing script. I grasped the letter in my trembling fingers, took it to my chair near the window, and sat down.
Didn't I just read this?
Taking a deep breath, I opened the letter and scanned it. Not believing what my eyes were seeing, I took another deep breath, closed my eyes, shook my head, exhaled, and began reading more slowly. I had expected to read of Alisha's proposal and the emotional struggle she endured as she chose * him * over her closest and dearest friend. Instead, I grew more confused as I continued to read:
Background Theme: Itooshi Hito no Tameni
Vic,
What a crazy night! I'm sorry to have burdened you so with my pain, but you've always been there for me and I really had no one else to turn to. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for not bombarding me with questions. Thank you for simply holding me…
You know, it felt pretty nice waking up in your arms! J
I hope I didn't slobber all over you!!
[The boyfriend] and I had a long, serious talk yesterday afternoon. It was nice…he had gotten us a room at one of the condos on the beach. We had dinner, then went back to the room and…talked. Nothing more. He said he cared for me, but there were things he wanted to do and places he wanted to go, but he just didn't see me being a part of it. And rather than live a lie, he felt we should part at least as friends as we went our separate ways. We laughed as we talked about old times. We cried as we realized this would be our last evening together. Finally, when the pain became too great to bear, I left. Oh, you'd be proud of me. I was brave, on the outside. I told him I understood. But I didn't. I told him I wished him the best. But what I really wanted to do was hit him. I said my goodbyes and held it all in. I wasn't going to let him get the better of me.
I sat in my car for a while as it all began to sink in. And then I began to panic. I couldn't breathe. Everything seemed like it was falling down around me. Then in one moment of clarity I knew what I needed to do. Where I needed to go.
And what do I find when I get to your place? You – out like a light, tongue hanging out, a snot bubble being blown out of your nose…just kidding. I didn't want to wake you, but I knew you wouldn't get upset…not too much, anyway…
The letter continued along this vein, going completely contrary to what I had previously experienced…
Or had I?
What the hell is going on?
…And, somewhere…
…a quiet voice whispers…
…across Space and Time…
… Dehyoo Machenah…
Closing Theme: "Shooting Star"