Black Wings
By: Aisaki Sumi
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Chapter Five
Fly me away, to a far away land, where there are just you and me and a pair of black wings...
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Sakura kicked off her shoes quickly and dashed straight for her bedroom. She wanted to capture the image she saw in a page of her sketchbook before time could distort the image and cause it to fade away. A pair of black wings… a pair of black wings… she mumbled silently to herself in a repetitive chant.
Her eyes were unfocused as she made her way up the spiraling stairs and to her room. Ignoring her father's greeting, she shut the door and hurried off to her desk. She flipped her sketchbook open to a blank page and hastily took out her pencil, beginning her swift movements.
The tip of her pencil traced over the curves and shades on the paper. She then slanted the pencil slightly to use its sides to add in a different kind of shade to the wings she was working on. Concentrated on her drawing, she failed to notice that she was still wearing her outdoor jacket.
Her keenly focused eyes were glinting with a rare shine that could only be seen whenever she was drawing. It was an indication, a sign of her deep concentration. Painting, sketching, art, to her, was a language, a way of communicating with people who were able to understand the deeper message that was passed on through the artwork.
This silent means of expression involved no words. Just a pencil, a piece of paper, and an eraser would do. The pictures produced by those three simple things could be stunningly beautiful, more beautiful than any poetry, any story, or any song's lyrics.
She paused for a moment, eyes closed, as she attempted to remember all the details of the image she managed to imprint onto her mind; however, time was taking its effect, and the image was starting to become unclear and slightly faded in the corners.
He had a pair of beautiful black wings. The ink-colored feathers glistened under the bright sunlight, creating such a strong contrast with the blindingly white background of the light. His wings spread out at the exact instant when he pulled up his motorcycle and disappeared into the brilliant shower of lights. It gave the false impression that he was flying, reaching out a hand to touch the sky.
The scene stood out in her mind, and she thought that she had never seen anything more beautiful and magical than that. Perhaps she was hallucinating because her desperate mind wanted to meet the dark angel that she had heard so much about from her mother.
Nadeshiko had told her stories since she was little, saying that one day, when the earth is tumbling; when the heavend are falling down upon the mortal realm; when the world is ending; when hopes are shattered and vanishing; when dreams are turned into nightmares; an angel with large black wings would come and bring salvation to this dying world.
As the thought rambled out of her mind, she stared down at the finished picture with critical, scrutinizing eyes. It was a perfect representation of him, the boy who had saved her from the other two, and his black wings. He appeared to be floating, flying, soaring in the blue sky without a care in the world.
No angel in the heavens could rival his elegance, and she was quite resolute about that.
The shading brought out the liveliness of the picture, especially the wings, making them seem to protrude from the page. She reached out a slender finger to touch the wing, yet halted when it was only a centimeter away. The oil and moisture on her hand would smudge the page.
A small smile formed on her lips as she placed the sketchbook carefully onto her desk again. Silently she decided that she would attempt an oil painting of it someday, if she ever saw that dark angel again.
A sudden knock on the door pulled her back to the present. Turning just slightly, she looked over her shoulder and her gaze fell upon the door. Her mind wondered who the interrupter might be, but she quickly received her answer as the person's soft, yet deep fatherly voice spoke, "Sakura, you have a visitor."
Quirking an eyebrow, she puzzled for a moment. A visitor? This was only her third day back to Tomeoda, how could she possibly have a guest? Pushing the questions aside, she answered, "Wakkada." The door swung open at that instant, revealing her father and her first visitor.
The girl at the door had long, raven hair that cascaded over her shoulders in wavy locks of ebony. Like a mystical midnight waterfall, such beauty was absolutely divine. She had a gorgeous visage with pale, porcelain skin and rosy cheeks. The two majestic curls that hung loosely on her shoulders gave her the appearance of an expensive Japanese doll.
"Sakura-chan, long time no see." Beaming, she greeted Sakura with a radiant smile.
Sakura's eyes widened in surprise as the sweet voice registered in her mind. "To…moyo-chan?" It was a timid inquiry, full of uncertainty. Emerald green eyes traveled up and down and studied the girl before her.
"Hai. It's been six long years, and I'm glad you haven't forgotten about me."
"I…" Sakura began, soft cherry red lips parted slightly, revealing her pearl-like teeth. The stunned expression remained on her face as she sought hard for the right words to put together, but found nothing more suitable than silence as a response.
"I'll leave you girls to catch up on some of the things you missed over the past few years." Fujitaka smiled gently. It was a heartwarming scene. He shifted his eyes to Tomoyo and then back to Sakura, a hopeful shine glittering in his dark brown eyes. Maybe Tomoyo could open Sakura up again… since she had been her closest friend.
Tomoyo bowed slightly to Fujitaka, silently thanking him for providing them the opportunity to cast aside cold formality and to catch up on the things they had missed in each other's lives over the past six years—years that seemed more like an eternity.
Tomoyo stepped into the room gracefully, hands folded gracefully. "It's great to have you back again," she began, sitting down on the edge of Sakura's bed like she always did when they were still young. Her large, soft amethyst eyes scanned her surroundings, noticing the dimly lit corners and the lack of a lively spirit in the room.
"Tomoeda hasn't changed that much, except they finally decided to repair the two buildings of Tomoeda Heights since the structure was over a hundred years old and needed some serious repairs. Penguin Park is pretty much the same as before, but they replaced the rusted penguin sculptures with new ones." Tomoyo went on, listing the things that had and hadn't changed over the years.
Sakura stayed silent the entire time, listening to the other girl's familiar, velvety voice, while her eyes observed Tomoyo's features. Her physical appearance had changed only slightly over the years. She was taller and more slender now than ever, and her eyes weren't as large and child-like anymore. Yet her graceful posture remained the same, unchanged from how it was years ago.
"You've changed," the other suddenly stated, startling Sakura and causing her to jerk her head slightly. Their eyes briefly met, gazes aligning for a moment too short to be realized, yet it was long enough to crack the layers hiding the emotions within them both.
"But I guess it's only natural that you change…" Tomoyo paused, hesitating over what she was about to say. She spent a few seconds searching for the right words… "over the years."
For a moment, they just stared at each other awkwardly. The suspense in the air was slowly building and finally, Tomoyo looked away, dark bangs falling over her eyes, shielding them from view; however, they did not keep her from seeing the picture frame that was left abandoned on the dusty bookshelves.
"I'm sorry about your loss." The words escaped from her mouth too quickly, before she even had the time to think. Sakura flinched at the abrupt mention of her mother and the momentarily forgotten pain returned to the chambers of her heart.
"But you'll move on. You're back in Tomoeda again. You're home. We'll help you get through the tough times."
Sakura looked down and studied her now trembling hands, clasping them together to hide her weakness. She was tired, exhausted from it all, but the last thing she needed was for the people who still cared about her to worry.
Nodding, she refused to lift her eyes and meet the pair of saddened and concerned eyes that were demanding her attention. Her sharp ears picked up the quiet squeak made by the bed as Tomoyo shifted her weight.
Tomoyo rose from her seat and approached within a few steps of Sakura. The soft rustling of the fabrics sounded very soft and pleasant to her ears. She felt a hand rest on her shaking shoulder, a firm grip that held her in place before she shattered, fell apart.
To lighten the mood a bit, Tomoyo spotted the finished sketch that was lying temporarily forgotten on the desk. "It's a beautiful sketch, Sakura. I always knew you could draw well, but gosh, this is just too good to be passed off as a seventeen-year-old's drawing. If I saw it somewhere else, I would probably think it had been done by a professional."
The compliment caused Sakura to look over her shoulder. "Who is that supposed to be, Sakura? A flying angel?" Tomoyo asked inquisitively.
"It's a dark angel," Sakura answered quietly, remembering the overly brief moment when he spread out his wings and embraced the sun.
He was a dark angel.
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