The rose, the fox, and the aviator.

(II)

And so the seventh planet was Earth. The flight to Earth was as lonely and as quiet as the first time I left B-612. The fact that my grandfather was left alone in our planet kept me preoccupied. That word, ephemeral, was such a lonely word which revealed the common truth among living things. It saddened me. My wanting to go back to B-612 was just amplified.

"What was Earth like?" I asked the eldest bird of the flock.

"It is spacious, big. All the planets you visited, B-612 included, could fit in it," he answered. "There are millions or billions of humans inhabiting it."

"When my grandpa was a little prince, was he sullen when he realized that his rose was ephemeral?"

"Anyone would be," the bird continued flying. "Goodbyes are hard to say after all."

"But why did he continue visiting Earth?" I gripped the cord tightly. "He could have turned back to stay with her." But the bird remained silent. I didn't stop asking. "She would be born again and again; she would wither and shed her petals, but after some long days of watering and tending, she would bloom again. Being ephemeral wasn't that saddening for her."

"And the little prince is ephemeral in a different way." The bird didn't spare me a glance. "That would be saddening for her."

I heard from the eldest bird that Earth was occupied with billions of people. He said, "this is how their population is divided in ascending order: the fewest number of people accounts to the kings and their families. People who 'reign' are relatively few but absolute. Next was the businessmen. They were the ones benefitting from the kings. Geographers followed the businessmen. Albeit they do not work for them, or they probably do, scholars — or simply 'thinkers' — aren't abundant in the population. The next ones would be the lamplighters — the workers striving hard and complaining at the same time. The biggest percentage of the population, however, was consist of show-offs and drunkards, and nothing could be expected from them. Well, show-offs were quite witty, they could be with the kings, businessmen, scholars, and lamplighters. You wouldn't notice until they spoke."

That was what the bird instructed me about people living in Earth. They were billions in number, but not as many as the stars Mr. Nero owned. It was a large planet, indeed, for they all fit in there. The bird also told me that my grandfather met the fox and pilot here. It worried me. For some unknown reason—it worried me.

As we approached the blue sphere with swirling whiteness, my mind urged me to fly back to B-612.

I was told that my grandfather met a snake the first time he set foot here. So instead of leaving me in a desert, an everlasting greenness and comeliness were the first things I saw and not a barren desolated sandy terrain.

Beautiful — that was my first impression with earth. There were many butterflies, birds, roses, plants — that weren't as unpleasant as baobabs — and animals here. The wind was cool and comforting, but sometimes it was warm, sometimes it was cold. Sometimes there was no wind at all. The clouds were funny and annoying at the same time, for they obstruct the view of starry night.

"H'llo," I yelled to the fat cloud above me. He was shielding the scorching sunlight. "Why are you so white . . . and big?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "You wouldn't like me if I was gray."

"And why is that so?"

He shrugged again. "I'd bring buckets of rain. I will be gray soon, though."

And I was saddened with his words. "You'll grow old? You're going to be a grownup? You're ephemeral?" Because he reminded me of grandfather, the so-called little prince.

"Probably," was his only answer.

"You're like my grandfather," he only blinked at me. "He will surely bring out my buckets of tears if he—you know what. His hair is already gray."

"Humans," the cloud murmured. "You are certainly odd."

The night came and I was seated at the foot of the small hill. It was cold. Like the deafening silence on my first flight, the stillness was hammering on my ears. Just when I thought that I would fall asleep, I was startled when a small voice broke the silence.

"Who are you?" it said.

I looked around but I saw no one. I must be delusional, perhaps too lonely after being separated from my grandfather.

"Here, I am here! Beside you!"

I looked down at the rock as huge as my fist, resting still beside me. "Who are you?" I asked him.

"I believe that I asked that first," said he.

"I am not the little prince." I said, knowing that he might as well say that I was my grandfather. However, I was surprised when he only laughed at me. I was never wrong with my introduction, but today was an exception.

"Why would I think you were? Whoever this 'little prince' was," he chuckled. "So, who really are you?"

"Are you telling me that you never heard of him?" the stone nodded at me. "It is a queer place. Do you mean humans do not know the little prince as well?" the stone nodded again. "My name is Len. What are you?"

"I am a stone, of course." He reminded me of my grandfather's rose when he introduced himself.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"That's bad luck," I frowned at him. "It must be tough doing nothing."

"Not at all." He answered. "I'm not tough, you know."

My fist knocked him, and I was quite sure that he was hard enough. "But you are solid . . . hard?"

"Toughness doesn't account with how tough you seem to appear. We aren't like humans. We aren't pretentious like them," he grumbled. "Tiny water droplets get into us, they weaken us, and after some long years, we will breakdown and be a part of earth."

"Humans do pretend?" I gazed at the stars. "And rocks do not?"

"They do. That's why they are weak — they don't admit their weakness and they think that is strength." After some minutes, he spoke again, "they are eerie species residing this place."

I had spent a lot more days in this eternal greenness. There were rose-trees aligned in rows, hundreds of them were prohibited to grow wider than what the cord tied on poles indicated. Their thorns were small but a great deal. When they were together like this, predators wouldn't target them. But if they would live alone like my grandfather's rose, survival was not in sight. I was looking at the green buds that sprouted from the soft stems of these roses when I heard a rustling at the end of this row.

Then a young girl came out while hugging a basket of red roses in full bloom. She was not bigger than me, and it was my first time meeting a child. She lifted her hat to look at me, and a wide smile stretched her tiny lips.

"Hello! You look familiar. Who are you?" she asked. I only walked towards her. "You like roses, too? My grandfather never mentioned that there was a boy in here."

"I don't like roses," I told her truthfully. Her frown was the first thing I never expected from others. I thought I was the only one frowning at others. "They are too proud of their beauty, they boast it not knowing that beauty isn't everlasting."

"I thought so too," she picked a flower and gave it to me. "But beauty is not always seen."

"I don't understand." I took the rose from her and stared at it but there was nothing strange. I gazed at her from head to toe, but she wasn't an adult. So, why? Why couldn't I understand her? "You aren't a grownup."

"So you are," she smiled again. "What is your name?"

"What is your name?" I asked back.

She frowned. "You must answer first, because I asked it first."

"You sounded like King Kaito." It's my turn to frown at her. The rose, I placed it back in her basket and tugged my muffler close to my mouth. "I am not the little prince."

Her eyes widened, but she wasn't vexed like Mr. Nero. In fact, she looked delighted. "It was said that when people deny something, the truth was the opposite. You must be the little prince!"

"I said I wasn't," my tone raised surprisingly. "My name is Len, and the little prince was my grandfather."

"Eh? Your grandfather? Why is he the 'little prince'? Is he still a child? That is . . . weird," she sagged her shoulders as she gently settled the basket near her feet. Her hair dangled to her shoulders, it was short and straight and colored like the morning sky.

"He wasn't little anymore. That's what I told everyone," I turned around and studied the green buds again. Talking to a child was more entertaining than conversing with adults. They couldn't understand things by themselves. "They all thought I was him. By the way, who are you?"

"I am Miku," she stood next to me and bent down to examine the rosebuds as well. "I am the aviat—" she was unable to continue what she was supposed to say when a loud deep voice spoke out of nowhere.

"Miku!" It sounded hoarse, just like my grandfather's voice. "Miku!" Again and again, her name was called.

"That's gramps looking for me," she ran and grabbed her basket of roses. Her skin was beginning to redden. Before she turn back to where she came out, she perked her head to my direction, "will I see you again?"

I only shrugged. Reunions are pointless for me, unless it is reasonable. Now, that sounds like King Kaito. Well, it doesn't matter. I want to go back to my grandfather.

She nodded and smiled the last time. "Let's meet again, Len!"

"Sure." I bit on my muffler and went back fondling the rosebud. "Hey, rosebud," I whispered. "Come out and forget your vanity. And then we will be friends."

When people aim to learn things more than what they already know, they have to step out of their own shell and explore the world. So I am here, leaving the rose-trees orchard after some weeks — unintentionally.

I was asleep when I felt the cart shaking. The hay that reminded me of my hair was rustling softly at every thud. I peeped at the small gap of these wooden cart nailed together and saw the ground was moving. Or was it the cart?

When I finally stood and saw what was happening, the rose-trees orchard was already a mile away. It was like a tiny smudge of bright foliage against the wide canvas where huge mountains and eternal blue sky were already painted. I kept an eye on it, still wanting to hop down from this cart. The rosebud would be a good flower if I only I was there until she showed herself.

My efforts wouldn't be in vain if I would be able to raise her as a humble rose — unlike grandfather's flower. My grandfather, perhaps, had forgotten to talk to her when she was still nothing but a sprout. And her vanity began when grandpa talked to her, words of compliment fed her pride.

But no, I wasn't there. Maybe I was destined to like her, to hope that she would be a good flower. But I wasn't meant to stay. Since I had no other choice, I crouched back on my seat, snuggled on the haystack, and went back to sleep. I ought to see the unseen. That rose wouldn't know why grandpa stared at the starry sky. For I had to learn a lot new things, I decided to leave.

It was clamorous. I had lost track of time when I finally woke up. The noise that stirred me up grew louder and clearer: it was the clattering of metal and shrilling of what seemed to be a huge whistle. There was a long fleeting trail of black cloud above me, but it wasn't too high to taint the white clouds. And there was the shrilling noise again, and metals clattered louder as if it would fall apart. I stood realizing that I was moving faster than earlier, and the huge mountains hiding the breaking dawn were now as small as my thumb.

That was when I overheard this:

"Dex! Look! There is a boy in the cart! Who is he?"

"I don't know!"

"Go and get him! Hurry!"

"My friend," I looked around and saw a man with brown skin and amber eyes, reaching out for me. His gray hair reminded me of my grandfather, but his face was deprived of wrinkles. "Hey, it is dangerous there. Come with me, don't worry. I won't hurt you."

"What is this fast-moving thing called?" I looked back on the trees passing by us. Earth was surely huge. "And what does that mean—friend?"

"Can we talk about that later? It is safer to talk inside the train." His voice was raspy against the deafening wind. He didn't take back his hand, it was patiently waiting for me to grab it. Half of his body was propped up from the metallic railing, long arms extended to me. "Let's go."

I held his hands.

Dex and Daina were childless couples who used to work for the rose-trees orchard as gardeners. Due to some circumstances, such as life getting tougher lately, they decided to quit their jobs to find a greater opportunity in the city. It so happened that the cart where I used to sleep, they owned it. Apparently, none of the couples had seen me in the orchard before.

They took me in and treated me like their child. Dex taught me everything I wanted to know, he answered the questions I had — albeit most of the times he didn't know how to explain things. Daina, on the other hand, taught everything else Dex couldn't answer. When none of them could answer me, I would search for the answers instead.

"What does thatmean — friend?"

"It is easier to understand if you find one." Daina ruffled my hair.

I only frowned at her, for another ambiguous answer was said

to me. Grown-ups are definitely vague. They don't explain things in the simplest way.

The city was filled with people. It was a mixture of businessmen and lamplighters and drunkards and show-offs — or a combination of any of these. The clouds weren't white and they were low; they were emitted from the vehicles. City noise filled the place, so there wasn't a single second of silence. Was it good or bad—I wasn't the one to decide. Sometimes I wished not to hear silences, sometimes I wished to hear it.

I was still a boy when I first wanted to hear silence. There was a misunderstanding between my foster parents that time. Dex and Daina were yelling to each other, voices high-pitched and full of rage. Daina's eyes were glimmering with tears, and Dex's eyes were mad.

I realized that life isn't tough. Living is.

The next thing I knew, the ceramic plates were broken, the huge China vases were shredded into pieces. Daina sounded so pained as she cried. Dex cursed life. It wouldn't work out, he yelled. Love was shit, it wouldn't feed us — and the night was filled with words I couldn't comprehend.

I was five inches taller than my former height when I heard the first unwanted silence. It was not my silence that was saddening, it was Dex's silence. I was about to leave to go to school — that place was a sanctuary for young people, a midpoint between youth and adulthood. Daina and Dex never had a peaceful day with each other. The two of them were important to me, as important as my grandfather. And the curious boy I was, stayed behind the service door.

"Are you leaving, Dex?" Daina''s voice was quivering.

"Yes." He replied shortly.

"Don't you love us anymore? Len and I need you." She sniffed like a child and I found that funny. I shouldn't be thinking this way, but whenever she would sniff, things looked funny to me. "Don't you love me anymore, Dex?"

It was that time when I heard the unwanted silence.

Dex replied nothing. It was such a heavy moment for me, and it was absolutely not funny. He said nothing at all. His eyes were glued on his feet, fingers gripped tightly around his bag strap. Without another word, he turned around and left the house.

And never came back.

Their bond, whatever it is called, is ephemeral. I wonder if it is the kind of ephemeral that renews like the rose's, or is it the kind that will never be reborn.

Many years had passed. The green chemise and green pants and golden muffler my grandfather had given me no longer fit my body. I first noticed how much I had grown up when I was able to face Daina, my eyes meeting hers without looking up.

"You . . . shrank?" I told her. She said she did not shrink, I grew taller instead. "I'm a grownup?"

"Certainly," she said and clipped the ends of the bedsheets on the clothesline. "You are already . . . how old are you again? It has been a decade I took care of you,"

I glanced at the basket of wet blankets I was holding, and mentally counted how old am I. "Eighteen, I think? The Zola brothers said I can help you now. I am on a legal age, they said."

After Dex left us, Daina couldn't support me from studying. I was willing to give it up, saying that true learning doesn't take place in an educational institution alone. I ought to see the unseen, ought to know the untaught.

"The city life isn't our kind of living," Daina told me out of the blue. "Maybe we should get back to the orchard? I met the granddaughter of the orchardman and she said the old man wanted us back. It's just sad Dex wasn't with us."

"It isn't sad at all," I grabbed a blanket and handed it to her. "I am still here. We shall be fine. I don't like the city, too. I can't sleep well." What I wanted to say is that we were fine even without him. Daina was able to raise without his help.

She only smiled at me and ruffled my hair, then she went back hanging the blankets on the clothesline.

Some days after that conversation, I found myself riding a pickup truck. The huge mountains were bordering the end of scenery, its peaks were seemingly touching the sky. Daina was smiling at me so motherly, delighted to see that I was excited to get back in the orchard. Well, I was curious what happened to the rose.

I was slowly going back to where I came from. The sky was now dyed with the colors of dusk. Was he still waiting for me to come back? Was my grandfather still sitting there and watching the stars like I do? I hadn't met a rose, a fox, or an aviator. He must be upset with my failure.

The next day came and we met the son of the orchardman. The owner passed away some years ago. His son, who was managing the orchard now, was a man in his early 40's whose lines on his forehead were permanently embossed there. He had this beautiful hair that reminded me of the morning sky.

"I haven't heard of you for so long, Daina. I'm sorry with what happened with your relationship with Dex."

My mother only smiled at him.

"What does that mean — relationship?" I unintentionally drew the attention of the 'new' orchardman. Daina said it was rude to butt in with that talks of elderly, so I felt embarrassed.

"Hey there," he narrowed his eyes to me. I realized that he had white hair growing at the root of his hair. He was . . . ephemeral. "Are you her child?" I only nodded. "Have you tried working in an orchard?"

"I was taking care of a single rose in this plantation before," I said.

He cupped his chin and furrowed his brows. "Queer, I never had seen you."

"I was a little man back then," I quickly interrupted. His chuckle was insulting me. There was nothing funny with my statement. "What does 'relationship' mean?"

"Well, I assume that you want to work for the rose orchard? The roses weren't as plenty as they used to be. Majority of the land was converted to be a vineyard. The rose garden, however, is a personal bit of earth owned by my daughter. She loved her gramps so much, the roses reminded her of the old man." I only shot him a quizzical look. "That is a relationship."

"What you said was way too vague for me," I countered.

"You have to see it yourself, because that is something unseen."

"Is that a riddle?"

He only chuckled.

I stared at the little lush dwelling. The cords tied up on poles were no longer standing anywhere, and the rose-trees were free to grow as much as they wanted. It was like a sanctuary of butterflies fluttering in and out, green and red blended very well.

I stooped low and fondled a rosebud between my thumb and forefinger. "H'llo rosebud," I greeted. "I lost my rosebud here long ago. But I will tell you a secret: come out and forget your vanity. And then we will be good friends."

If someone learned what he wished to learn, and that seemed enough, it was the time to answer the questions that brought him to places. And I knew now, that my journey was about to end.

The bushes on the other end of this of row of roses rustled, and I fixated my eyes in anticipation. It wouldn't be a harmful animal, this place was so sheltered to be inhabited by predators.

Then came out a lady in yellow summer dress, her hat covered her upper face. She was alarmed by my presence—in a queer manner. It was as if my existence in that place delighted her. But she was supposed to be wary of a stranger in her garden. When she approached me, I tugged my old muffler close to my lips.

"Hello! You must be the gardener my father talked about! Is it true that you are Daina's child?"

I only nodded and watched her remove her hat. Long locks of teal hair cascaded from her shoulders to her waist. Her tiny lips were tugged in a sweet smile. She was an eccentric beautiful lady.

"I am Miku," she said. Her name does ring bells. "I am the aviator's granddaughter."

"The aviator?"

She nodded a swift assent. "He was known here that way — 'the aviator'. So whenever I would go here and spend summer, I would introduce myself that way. But you looked like you hadn't met him at all." She sat on folded knees, eyes sparkling at me. "You look lonesome. What's your name?"

"Len."

"Don't you have friends, Len?"

I blinked at her. "I don't have friends. I don't know what does it mean. When I was in third grade, I asked my classmates what are friends but they said nothing."

"They are surely not your friends. Friend is a person whose company one enjoys and towards whom one feels affection." She stared at the rosebud I was petting.

"What does it take to be a friend?"

"A bond? Some sort of relationship unique from others?" She sounded unsure herself.

"Relationship? Bond? I don't understand." Whenever I would hear these words, I couldn't stop thinking with Dex and Daina's bond. It was vulnerable, breakable.

"I have heard from Daina that you weren't able to finish middle school. If you were exposed to people, you would understand. Oh! Do you like roses?"

And this talk is too nostalgic. "I don't like roses. I just want to understand why grandfather loved taking care of his rose . . . even if she's ephemeral. Her beauty would end."

"He must love her," she mumbled. "He would take the risk of being alone because he was tamed by her."

And again, I don't understand a thing. Everything seemed ironic.

She continued, "we are all ephemeral. So to stay by one's side until the end, that must be love."

"Even if her vanity was tormenting?"

"To love is to embrace one wholly."

"Even if she is pretentious?"

"To love is to see one thoroughly, to read the lies."

"Even if she would end one day?"

Miku laughed and tucked locks of her hair behind her ear. "Love wouldn't end. If you insist that your grandfather shouldn't stay with her because she was vexing, that she had a short life; it is like saying that we shouldn't live because we will all end one day, too."

I stared at her as she jolted up and picked the sprinkler. "Hurry up, we have to remove the worms!"

She was as old as me, but she wasn't thinking like a grownup.

I enjoyed my stay here. Daina and I liked this place better than the city. The clouds were white and high. When the clouds would pour torrents of rain, I would bathe under it. Miku would join me and we would run around like two children while playing with the puddles on the ground.

The stars were the prettiest part of living here. One time, Miku caught me laying down on the balcony, staring blankly at the stars. She was curious so she asked where I was looking.

"To my planet." I replied indifferently.

"What?"

"I'm not from Earth, Miku."

"Where are you from?" She was holding back her laughter.

"B-612."

She stood and walked away. When she came back, she threw a thin book to me. "Are you an avid fan of that book?"

The illustrations in the book were funny, nonetheless accurate. The details as well. It was like a record of my grandfather's voyage. "He was my grandfather. The little prince."

"Impossible."

"And what is possible to you?"

"Something realistic." She smiled and sat down beside me. "That book was fictional. Gramps wrote it when he was lost in Sahara desert. It was just like a reflection about things often neglected."

I sat and tilted my head to face her. "So you don't believe me?"

"I wanted to, but it's really impossible. The little prince died. The snake had bitten him so he could go back home. It was a representation of how He took the sins of the world," she stared deeply into my eyes. "Nobody believed my gramps that the little prince was existing."

"Is my presence before you not enough?" It was bothering me. She didn't answer me, she only fluttered her eyes close. I was given time to introspect the lady before me, a girl who never had forgotten how to be a child. I loosened my muffler and share it with her, wrapping it around her neck. The wind was colder now.

"Gramps was always waiting for the little prince to come back," she mumbled as leaned on my shoulder. "When I was young, I believed the same. But I grew up. I realized that everything was fictional."

"Do you believe the things your eyes can see?"

"Yes, that makes them realistic."

I exhaled a great deal of stress. The answers were dawning to me. "And those you can't see, don't you believe them?"

I felt her nod against my shoulder. "There are things unseen that are really nonexistent."

"Then, love. Don't you believe love? Friendships? Don't you believe them? These are bonds invisible to eyes, Miku."

She did not answer. I stared back at the sky and admired the small glittering stars. Grandfather was staring back in time, staring back at the precious things residing from the stars and planets. The things unseen, that made them worthwhile.

As I glance down at Miku, I realized that what I am seeing is no more than a shell. What resides inside her, that is essential. That, is invisible.

"Miku?"

"Yes,"

"Can we be friends?"

"Read the book and we'll see that. Tame me, Len." She sat up and grinned at me. Her long locks fluttered against the gentle breeze. "Tame me, Len. Make me believe." I nodded.

The next morning came and I was up earlier than usual. I was tending the roses, weeding them, while Daina was helping me. She was pushing a barrow where I put all the weeds I pulled out.

"I wonder why you work too early,"

"I have to tame Miku, mother." I smiled at her. "So we can be friends."

"Ah, I think I've heard that from a book."

"Le Petit Prince?" I laughed and rose from crouching on the soil.

She nodded. "That is a wonderful book."

"The little prince is my grandfather." Like Miku, she only laughed.

"Get your work done and I will prepare our breakfast."

Daina disappeared from the little garden, but she was replaced by Miku, who was in a hurry while dragging the plough with her. When she saw me almost done with her morning work, she only gaped.

"Len," she walked to me. "You finished everything? Wow."

"Well, yes. I don't know how am I suppose to tame you." I said, scratching to back of my ear with my hand. We weren't the little prince and the fox. If we were, things would be easier. "I was already tamed by you. I wonder what would it take for you to return that."

Miku only snickered and tipped her hat to me.

Our days were spent that way. Miku and I busied ourselves taking care of her rose garden, but sometimes we would help Daina with her work in the vineyard. Miku liked picking the grapes, she would pop some to me. I was always forced to taste the grapes. On the other hand, Daina would only laugh and encourage her to do a lot more nonsense. But it was fun.

There was nothing too hard to do when it never felt like work, and this feeling was called enjoyment. Whenever I was with Miku and Daina, there were no sullen moments of nostalgia. My longing for B-612 was partly cured. But as long as I could see the stars, I would always yearn to go back to the place where I belonged.

"Will you look for a snake to bite you so you can go back to your asteroid, Len?" Miku spotted me laying down on the balcony again, one night. I looked up to her and shrugged.

"Do you want me to leave so soon?" It was supposed to be a joke, but my sense of humor was not funny at all.

"No. If I may express it so, I want you to stay. But that's being selfish." She lay down beside me, eyes looking up to the twinkling stars. "You can go home now, I am tamed."

"Shall you cry?"

"Anyone will," she said gloomily. "Goodbyes aren't good after all."

The two of us remained quiet for sometime, until the stillness was broken by a groggy engine passing across the fields. We jolted up to sit and watched the old pickup truck to park under the apple tree, and three people came out of it. One of them was a child. For some reason Miku ran away from here, and I saw her running to the blond lad.

I spent the rest of the night staring at the stars all by myself.

The next mornings were laced with oddity. Miku was not coming to see me or visit her rose garden. Daina said that she hadn't seen the lady in the orchard lately. Such strangeness continued until a week was over. It made me curious about her deeds, I was tamed by her after all. Her morning greetings were badly missed. Whenever I would gaze at the early morning sky, she was the first thing to pop in my mind.

So I decided to visit her in the family room of the house. We stayed in the same house, but Daina and I were using the servants' quarter. You knew it very well that the balcony was the only space we shared.

She was seated on a rocking chair with the blond lad on her lap. Albeit the white lacy curtains draped on the clear glass wall, the sunlight passed through it perfectly. The two of them were bathing with the calm morning light, and her voice filled the quiet room.

"Pardon," I coughed to get her attention. "Miku?" When she looked at me, it was as if our first meeting. It was awkward and full of tension for me — at least for me, it was. She was peering at me oddly, and I realized I was carrying the garden tools with me. "I — I just . . . uh, want to know how you're doing," it wasn't normal for me to stammer in front her. We talked a lot and I never stammered.

Am I nervous?

We haven't spoken in a week, being with her felt so suffocating.

Miku brought the blond kid down, who turned around and faced me. He had this round amber eyes staring at me as if he knew who I was. She grabbed his hand and walked him to me. "Hello. Why are you here?"

"I already said it," I couldn't bring myself to stare at her. I wonder why. "Don't you like your roses anymore?"

But she dodged all these.

Smoothly.

"Oh, Len! I want you to meet my little cousin, he's Oliver. Oliver, baby, this is Len."

Baby? He looks like he is already four. Is that still a baby?

"Uh, hello - hello, Oliver."

He only smiled and turned to stare at Miku. Then he spoke cheerfully, "can I play in the vineyard?" Even without an answer, he left Miku. That was rude. Manners should be taught to youngsters. I watched him run away from us, making happy noises down the hall.

For a short while of watching the boy to leave the room, I forgot that Miku was with me. If she didn't cough to beat me out of my trance, I would probably glue my eyes to Oliver's shrinking body.

"I'm sorry," I said, turning my head to her. "Are you mad?"

She shrugged. "I'm not. I'm sad, yes." Her voice turned up at that word—sad. This sadness she was talking about, I hadn't noticed it these past days we were together. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, eyes averting my face.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No," she turned up her nose and winced her head, her brows furrowed like her father's when he would ponder on some issues. "No," her voice was low and breathless.

The lady before me was a shell, I needed to see the unseen. There was something weighing her down and she wouldn't show it. I reached out and grabbed her hands and held it in between my earth-covered palms. "It would be easier if you'd say it clearly,"

She dared to look at me in the eye, and I saw what the stars sparkle at night. Her tears streamed down, but I couldn't understand why she was crying. People cry when they were pained. She must be in pain.

"I am afraid of growing up. I never wanted to grow up," her shoulders quivered as she took her hands away from me, only to wrap her arms around me. She was a fragile shell, a weak rock, eaten by a simple dread. "I want to travel back in time and spend summertimes with gramps. I miss him,"

"I'm not afraid of growing up," I whispered to her ear. "Because the memory of my grandfather is always with me. I will never forget."

"Then let me clarify my point," she pulled away and wiped her tears with her sleeves. "I want to be a child forever. Life is so simple as a child, you can sleep on problems and tomorrow they're gone."

"Not all children think the same."

"I just want to remain a child, stay with gramps and watch you talk to your rose—" she stopped talking, surprised with her own words. She was watching me before?

I smiled in reply, and said:

"When Daina and I were still living in the city, we had nice neighbors. The Zola brothers. Wil, the eldest I think, told me this thing when I confessed that I never wanted to grow up: you can remain childlike forever, and it's like you'll never grow up."

Miku's eyes widened in bewilderment.

"Let's remain this way forever. Let's stop growing up," I suggested. The sense of contentment crossed me, and the words my grandfather told me when I left B-612 echoed in my head. The things invisible, I saw it in her. There was the fox in her, like the fox my grandfather tamed; the rose that was not as arrogant as my grandfather's rose. She was the rose I believed to be miraculous; the aviator, I saw him in her. When I found all these, I should not come back in my asteroid.

Though my journey was totally different than the little prince's, it's fine. No two individuals are exactly alike. Walking on the same path won't always lead to the same endpoint.

"I won't leave you."

"What about your grandfather?"

"He's always looking at me from where he is seated right now. And I am looking at him from where I am right now. Whenever I look at that certain starlight, I know I'll never be lost."

Her tears continued to stream, and it was puzzling me. She pulled me to her arms and whispered a secret, "your heart is up there, go back."

I know she wouldn't understand it. She wouldn't understand it but I wouldn't leave her. I was tamed and I tamed her, and one should take the responsibility for what he tamed.

That's what friends are for.

They stay.

Shirai Hisaishi: sounds rushed, aye? I know, I know. But thanks for reading! (This update sucks.) The end.