"My, my, this hospital is getting far too familiar for you, isn't it, Kakyou-san?" Karen asked brightly.
Kakyou stared at the windowsill and the floor beneath it. "Here I thought flowers were appropriate but it seems like you've already got your own little forest taking root over there, don't you?"
Karen chuckled. "I enjoy it though you know. I've always wanted a little garden for myself."
"Happy to oblige." Kakyou nestled the orchid in his arms between an enormous sunflower and a small pot of more demure tulips. "I know you're probably tired of hearing this, but how are you doing?"
Karen gave a dazzling smile. "Oh I'm fine so far."
Kakyou settled into a chair nearby, making no secret his examination of the bandages down the side of her face and winding out from beneath the shoulder and arm of her hospital gown. Karen returned his gaze, but with so settled an expression as to be a blatant mask even beneath the gauze. He wondered if it was merely lingering trauma from the accident itself or resurfacing memories turning her emotions inward behind a wall of serenity.
"There's something bothering you." The words sounded ridiculous as soon as he said them. She had fallen into a bonfire and hospitalized for severe burns down the entire left side of her body. He imagined there certainly was something bothering her.
Karen didn't give him a reproachful or "no kidding" look however, instead cast her eyes down on the blanket gathered around her legs. After smoothing it and clearing her throat, she began picking at a bit of imaginary lint. "Well I'm a little worried about how Seiichiro is doing trying to manage the kids on his own. They can be quite a handful and Nataku's class trip is coming up, so you know, there's a lot to keep up with right now."
Kakyou wondered if he should even address how unconvincing she sounded until she glanced up.
"What about you?"
"Me?"
"I know you've been trying to find a way to win over Hokuto-chan." She gave him a sly grin that faded quickly. "But something else has been on your mind lately too. Something else has you on edge lately. Kind of jumpy."
He began to protest in denial but decided against it. "It's complicated."
"Do you want to talk about it?" She had adopted her soothing, motherly voice.
"Not particularly. We all have secrets."
She raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Yes we do."
.
.
A bird landed on her shoulder on the way home.
This was in fact a common occurrence for Kotori as she had always had an affinity for small animals and that fascination had always been returned on their part as well, but this bird felt different somehow. Kotori sensed it the moment the dove landed her shoulder, as if warm light shone from each lustrous feather, seeping into her shoulder and slowly spreading across her collarbone and arm. The dove did not look at her, nor even make a sound, merely resting for a moment as though it existed for no other reason than to hold Kotori captivated by its sheer perfection. For one reverent moment, she wondered if this were the very creature that had inspired people to believe in angels and then, as if the dove had heard her thoughts, it took flight.
She was disappointed for a moment, feeling a sudden chill as the light and the warmth left her instantaneously, then Kotori realized that the bird had not flown far. In a flurry of flawless feathers, it had landed on the sill above an elaborate doorway to a church that she passed nearly every day without much thought on the way home from school.
Taking the hint for what she unquestioningly believed it was, Kotori quietly entered the church, feeling a quiet chill sweep over her as she crossed the narrow threshold.
Although it was clearly not required, she slipped off her shoes and padded barefoot past empty pews to a statue of a woman in draped clothing, with a bowed head, weeping. A plaque nearby declared that the dolorous woman was the mother of Christ, weeping for her son's cruel fate. Kotori read the explanation carefully before turning to study the statue again, alarmed when for just a split second, she could have sworn the statue resembled Saya. She quickly realized that the woman's hair was straight, not wavy like her sister's, and the chiseled features too angular.
Strangely, she found that she still could not quite shake the feeling of resemblance and, somewhat disturbed by the idea, she turned away to approach the alter, wondering why the church was completely empty, even if it was the middle of the week. Shouldn't there still be a few devout scattered throughout, contemplating the ineffable or simply seeking solace in the solemn presence of their Lord? Or at the very least, shouldn't there be a priest tidying up the scattered bibles left lying haphazardly on abandoned pews?
She looked up as she reached the alter and there it was, looming above the pulpit, the image she knew in her heart that she had come to see all along. Although her family was Shinto, Kotori had heard the story of Jesus at a young age and recalled vividly her horror in response. It was not the idea of the pain or suffering that had so frightened her at the time, but rather the idea that people could be moved to such violence, were capable of such torment. The story had haunted her for weeks, invading her nightmares and thoughts at every turn until at last it had faded away into a dull lingering fear at the back of her mind.
Now she faced it again with a few more years of life behind her and suddenly a part of the tale clicked into place. She had previously only felt with acuity the anguish, disregarding the man himself upon the cross, but she recalled the ever-emphasized altruism of his actions and she thought of her friends, of her sister.
Of Kamui.
Her eyes never left the cross as she pulled herself onto the alter to reach up and press her hands to the wood, strangely appreciative that it was coarse and unsanded. There was a strange pleasure in the feel of earthen material beneath her hands and bare feet, and she found herself able to find the connection she had been missing all along. The wood of the earth given freely, the blood of a human given freely, all along the story was driven by love. The horror and the pain, it was all still there, but above all, there was the unfaltering desire to give all that could be given.
"You're not supposed to be up there." A voice distracted her from her reverie and
Kotori turned slowly, and at the sight of silky strands of white, thought dreamily that the dove had followed her in. As her mind grasped for a tether back to reality, she realized that it was Hinoto standing below her.
"I'm sorry?"
"You are not supposed to be up there." The older girl repeated.
Part of her knew she should get down, but some distant, deeper part of her replied without thought or uncertainty. "But I would be."
Hinoto's jaw clenched ever so slightly and that tiny movement conjured images, half-forgotten, half-imagined, of chains, and cords, and above all, a cage lost to a void. She saw the ugliness of hatred, resentment and fear, of suspicion, manipulation, and death. In Hinoto's delicate, lilac eyes, there were shadows of cruelty and spite, boring deep into her soul and ripping apart her heart until even the shreds were burned away to bitter ashes.
She climbed down from the altar and wrapped her arms around Hinoto, unsurprised that the hug was not returned. Then without a sound, she walked out of the church.
.
.
At a twitch of Seiichiro's hand and just the lightest touch of concentration, a breeze picked up and dandelions danced in the air. She had always loved the idea of making wishes upon their seeds and sending them out into the world to grow, buoyed by their feathery parachutes, and he loved the magic in that it was her breath that would release them. This was certainly a day for magic and wishes.
His bride began to walk down the aisle and he delighted in the way tulle gathered around the trim of her gown, leaving the impression of being carried by a cloud. The breeze caught the end of her veil, twitching it away just enough to reveal a glimpse of collarbone and with merely that, Seiichiro felt as though his heart would be swept away with the wind. Relaxing the spell slightly, he inhaled deeply and slowly, savoring the faint humidity and warmth of the summer evening's air. He wanted to remember every detail of this moment for lifetimes to come.
"Do you…"
Every word tasted of honey, sweet promises, speaking cherishment as though breath alone would be enough to send their sentiments to heaven.
"in sickness and in health…"
Her hands, so soft in his, so real. He would protect those hands that he may forever hold them and never feel alone in this world.
"..until death do us part."
He lifted the veil, so slowly, calling the breeze once more to help him raise the sheer material away, removing the last barrier between him and his beloved…
But the face… it was wrong. The eyes were not so wide, but darker and more distinctly eastern, the nose less sharp and the cheeks rounder, softer features, a smile that spoke of the warmth of a hearth, not the fire of a furnace…
"Who… are you?" He wondered.
Shimako.
With the thought of her name, the world shattered, splintering away in a torrent of broken glass as fragile illusions yielded to the inevitable. Seiichiro reached for her, meaning to pull her close, to shield her with his own body, to protect, but the harder he tried to reach her, the further away she seemed until she too broke and crumbled away.
Falling to his knees, Seiichiro closed his eyes tightly and wrapped his arms around himself, as though he could contain the pain threatening to consume him by holding in the memories close to his chest. When he opened his eyes once more, he was in a nearly empty park beneath somber skies full of clouds waiting for the thunder to signal their time to commence the downpour they contained. A few yards away, a young girl knelt, heedless of the gathering storm, searching in the grass. Her hand emerged from the ground clutching several dandelions. She noticed him then and approached slowly, as though afraid he would bolt like a frightened forest animal. There was something vaguely familiar about the girl and an urgency struck Seiichiro then; he needed to recall who she was, and soon.
"This one is yours." She held out a dandelion and he automatically took it, feeling for the first time just how thin and insubstantial the stem was.
"And the others?"
"There are many people with wishes to make."The girl sank to her knees with him, holding one hand up to slightly cup the dandelions so that the gathering winds would not rip away their seeds prematurely.
He vaguely recalled the trip to the beach suddenly. "Kamui…"
She nodded. "Yes, one is his."
"No, I mean you're a friend of his aren't you? I remember seeing you together."
I remember seeing your lifeless form in his arms.
He gasped at the recollection and clawed at his chest, suddenly unable to breathe. Lightning rent the sky in two, ripping through the clouds and releasing the storm.
"Don't wait too long." She cautioned. "If you don't make your wish soon, the storm will take it from you." She motioned to the dandelion whose seeds were already being washed away by the rain.
"My wish…" he tried to choke out, but the breath just wouldn't return to him. He felt the air being washed away by the rain and he knew he was drowning in it, but he couldn't summon the strength to fight it. He had forgotten what it was he was supposed to be fighting for, and just as he felt himself slipping away into oblivion, he saw the dandelion swept away by the tide and with it, all his hopes…
"Seiichiro!"
He jerked awake, blinking against the blinding assault of the hospital lights above him. He wondered for a moment if he had been brought here because he had been drowning until he realized that he was draped across the arm of a chair obviously meant for guests, not patients.
Karen bent over him and he read the concern in her face distantly but felt as though once more the breath had been stolen from him as the words slammed into his throat and he struggled not to release them.
"Who are you?"
.