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The distance between the docks and Hitomi's apartment is great, but they start walking it anyway. With Van deep in thought, Hitomi gives leave for her bewilderment regarding everything that has happened that day so far to take over.
Dowsing worked two… no… three times… I saw a vision of the near future of something not Gaia… and also during daytime… My God… What is going on…? What exactly is about to happen, for all these things to be going on just now? And… and I lied to my students. I left work just like that.
What on Earth am I doing…?
She is so lost in thought, she doesn't realize that at some point Van started choosing the turns and roads, and that eventually it was him setting the direction.
When she comes out of her reverie it's because she takes in the familiar design of the park where she and Van first met. It's a weekday, and therefore almost empty. 'Van…?' she asks, puzzled.
He shrugs. 'It's still early. I thought this would be a good place to talk.'
She nods, a small smile softening her confusion. They find a secluded spot on the grass under the manicured, gossamer branches of a weeping willow. The noon-sun filters through the leaves, and prints patterns of shadows on the grass below.
'Hey,' Van starts, and by the way his lips purse she knows he's slightly abashed, 'How… Do people here ever go barefoot? I mean, is it offensive or something?'
Hitomi really doesn't want to laugh, but a small laugh that should convey endearment does betray her.
'To some, maybe, but there's no one around now, is there?'
'Good,' he says. Almost reverently, he takes off his boots and sets them aside. Then he falls back onto the grass, and sighs.
'I missed this. I really missed this.'
Hitomi smiles. Pensively so. 'I wish I knew how to help you better, Van…'
Instead of wasting his words on reassuring her with used or awkward phrases, Van says: 'Tell me how you knew where to find me today. Tell me what you meant when you said you saw me.'
An urge suddenly strikes her, to fall on her back on the grass next to Van. But the thought inexplicably makes her feel self-conscious. She hugs her knees instead, and rests her chin on them.
'I was teaching my class, like always. Then, suddenly, the track field was gone, and I was seeing you inside a huge room full of crates. A door suddenly opened, and there was a man, pointing a gun at you. When I woke up, I knew I had to find you… It felt like a dream, but somehow I knew it was happening, or right about to happen…'
'I see…' He sighs. 'Thank you. But I would have found a way out of it, eventually. You didn't need to concern yourself like that.'
'But Van!' she snaps, turning to look at him, 'I thought you were in danger! The man had a gun!'
'I've had it remarkably worse,' he says, briskly, 'I don't want my search to take a toll on your daily life.'
Wishing he wasn't so inscrutable, Hitomi sighs. 'I think you would've done the same for me,' she states, with a finality that is unusual in her.
Silence is the mark of Van's conceding.
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'Here,' he says, after a while, wisely changing topics, and tosses the dragon's scale at Hitomi, 'It was inside that man's warehouse.'
She catches it with slight surprise, but no sooner have her fingers grazed it that the look on her face dissolves from surprise into blankess.
What is this? In waves come loneliness, hunger, resignation, honor, and, worst of them all, the acute longing for flight. But they last mere, fleeting seconds. She blinks.
'There is something… melancholy about this scale…'
She lets herself fall back onto the grass, this time.
Van turns his head, to look at her. 'Melancholy?'
'Yes,' she breathes, looking up at the patches of blue through the willow's leaves and branches: 'The sky is really far away, isn't it?'
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They start going back when dusk falls and a star or two appear near the horizon, to the east where the sea is.
'Do you think you could've found out more in that warehouse, if that man hadn't shown up?' Hitomi asks.
Van shakes his head. 'It was empty. That was all there was.'
'It's a start, though,' she thinks aloud.
'Yeah,' he answers, with a slight smile, 'It's a start…'
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Twilight.
Fastly, the light of day is fading. Soon, there is but an ember-glow tingeing the horizon, but it is mostly obscured by the towering mountains that surround the valley of the city, made into tenebrous giants by the darkness.
A man in a room invaded by shadows could see all of this through a stupendous window- not an exquisitely framed one, but one stately enough to belong in a castle- but he is sitting by a desk, his head buried in his crossed arms.
Together with him in the room stands a dream version of Hitomi, who looks on, petrified. She doesn't dare make a sound: something in the air hangs heavy, asphyxiatingly so, with sorrow.
The room seems to be a private study. Dusk shadows shroud the bookcases that line the walls, that reach up to the ceiling. The man is unmoving- Hitomi thinks, at first, that he may be asleep. Who is he? Why is she here? Dread grows in her stomach at the thought of seeing the fire again.
She gazes at him. The pale-bluish light that comes through the window reminds her of winter evenings and the scent of pinetree wood. It no longer can betray any color, but she sees how the man's skin and hair look very pale. He has hands of long, bony fingers. His shirt might be green. His shoulders are broad. His shoulders are shaking.
She realizes he's crying, not sleeping. The sorrow she perceived before becomes focused, overwhelming. She can't pry her eyes from the lonely, weeping figure. It breaks her heart.
With hesitation, she takes a step towards him. Her feet shuffles, ever so softly, grazing against the wooden floorboards.
'Who's there?' the man says, softly, steadily, not looking up. Does she know that voice?
She gasps mutely in the dream, and then she wakes up, mutely gasping.
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Dazed, she sits up. Beholds the familiar darkness of her room, and slowly becomes orientated again. A small sob, like a quiet whimper, escapes her lips before she can process it, and, soon, she's crying. She's got all this sorrow bottled up inside her chest, as if someone very close to her were gone. She cries and cries and cries, but somewhere deep she knows this sadness isn't hers.
'Hitomi…' a concerned voice says. It's Van.
He who would normally ask permission before coming into someone else's room, foregoes it this time, and in two silent strides he's sitting on the floor, next to her futon. He keeps his distance respectful, but places a comforting hand on her shoulder.
'Tell me what you saw.'
She hiccups softly, she nods. The warmth on her shoulder will anchor her, pull her back to herself. She's so, so grateful.
'It must have been Fanelia, again,' she says, punctuated by sobs. 'There was a man, and he was crying. Oh God,' she rasps, burying her face in her hands, 'So much sadness. There was so, so much sadness…'
Van's strong hand gently squeezes her shoulder, unsure of what other manner he has to show her support. His chest feels tight: still, he can't bring himself to ask her more: he'd hate himself if his anxiety turned him cruel.
'Beautiful fingers,' she says, very quietly, under her breath, and to him it feels like she can read his mind. Her voice is unusually raspy with tears, 'Very broad shoulders. Pale skin. Light hair. He wore a shirt, or maybe a tunic… green, it could have been. So was that man I saw.'
Each word she says makes time for Van drag on, and when she finishes, it feels like it's stopped completely; and that sadness that hangs in the air, that sadness becomes Van's own.
'That's my brother, Hitomi,' he says, numbly, 'That's Folken.'
'Folken,' she repeats. Silence takes over.
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Her alarm clock the following morning sounded like the shrill screeching of a banshee. Mechanically, she turned it off, and sat up on her futon.
On the floor, next to her, but not really close, was Van. Asleep, he'd frowned while the alarm clock rang, but as soon as it was turned off, his face relaxed again.
He stayed…? A wave of sorrow overpowered a budding sense of embarrassment: in scattered flashes, she remembered the dream, waking up, Van knowing of his brother's state and falling into bereaved silence. But at some point she'd fallen asleep, of emotional exhaustion, and she wondered if he had, too.
Maybe after all they'd been through up to that point, everything that had happened the previous night had been a turning point, after which it all became too much. What will you find when you return, Van?
She draped her comforter over his sleeping form, and, not really hungry, got dressed and set out, early, to work.
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'Good morning, Ms. Kanzaki!' the doorman greeted her, 'It's fortunate that you are early, because I had word of the principal, that he wanted to discuss something with you in private.'
She greeted the man good morning and thanked him with her usual friendliness, but made her way upstairs to the principal's office with a heavy heart. She felt that she wasn't going to like what the principal had to say.
She was right.
'Ms. Kanzaki, I'm concerned. Your performance has left something to be desired, lately. Is there anything you would like to inform me of, that is affecting your work here in the school?' The principal looked equally miffed and concerned.
'I… eh. I am deeply sorry about that, sir,' she began, gloomily noting that, while she'd painstakingly crafted Van's back-story, she had no excuse for her own conduct, 'There is a situation… a personal situation… a member of my family is not doing good… I… I am not doing well at handling it. I apologize.'
'It's understandable,' said the principal, 'Perhaps you would like some days off to sort yourself out?'
Hitomi stalled. 'I… I don't know, sir. It's a situation that seems that will be going to be of… ah… It's going to last longer than I… we… anticipated.'
If the man noticed Hitomi's subtle incoherences, he most likely attributed them to her emotional state. He said nothing, but: 'I see… Ms. Kanzaki, I must insist. I would rather you took some days off than upset the students. It's easier for us to schedule a replacement than cover for sudden absences, bear that in mind.'
'Yes, sir…'
'Please, do not be headstrong,' he said, on a kinder note, 'If you do need to take days off, just say so. We are only human beings.'
She managed a small smile. 'Yes, sir… Thank you.'
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As she left the principal's office, an image flashed before her eyes: a man, sitting in a darkened study, head buried in his arms, weeping.
The image was no sooner come than it was gone, but a lonely tear fell down her cheek.
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This author is of the mind that being King of Fanelia is one of the worst things that can happen to anyone.
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Read you guys soon!