14—wind
Kai's good deed of saving the stray cat in the French town did not go well. The cat ended up scratching him and the pigeon which had attacked it had taken to flying around Kai's head. He planned to run into a random shop before getting pooped on, but the bird simply perched on his shoulder as if it was a more majestic animal.
He stayed where he was in the middle of the unfamiliar sidewalk, as still as the statue he vaguely remembered reading about in a children's picture book. While waiting for the bird to move on to an actual inanimate object, he took out a sheaf of thin, yellowed paper from his backpack and reread the content once more.
Those were the letters of Olivier Gaillard, who he was supposed to meet once he could continue to find the location stated in the return address. They had been so-called 'pen pals' for about half a year and hence had got to know each other a little better. Kai supposed that Gaillard was going to scold him for the imbalance of their communication. For every five pages that Gaillard sent, Kai sent a postcard in return. This was due to Kai writing like he spoke (minimally) and that Kai could barely read a lot of Gaillard's writing. He swore that entire paragraphs in Gaillard's letters could even pass as squiggles, though handwriting of this sort was most likely considered as ideal by Europeans.
His latest attempt at deciphering a paragraph was interrupted when he was approached by a bespectacled man in a trench coat.
"Ah, merci, Monsieur!" He exclaimed, raising a hand in greeting.
Kai wondered what the man was thanking him for when the pigeon took off from his shoulder and perched on the man's. He inferred that the bird was his wayward pet.
"No problem." Kai replied in English, hinting that he did not speak a word of French for the purpose of subtly making the man leave him alone.
Instead, the man just started speaking in English. "You've been a great help. This one lives like he's in the wild." He gently tapped the pigeon's bowed head.
Since a Frenchman was talking to him, Kai saw no harm in asking for assistance to finally find out what Gaillard was writing about. The one he would embarrass was not himself anyway.
"Could you help to translate my French friend's writing, please?" He said and passed him a sheet from the sheaf.
The man took it from him and glanced over it. "What a drunken hand. Let's see: 'If you're going to only write 50 words for my 5000, then so be it. I shall tell you something you don't know. I shall tell you the meaning of life'…the rest is just definitions of words from the dictionary. Is your friend someone of this town, Monsieur?"
"Thank you." Kai said, taking the sheet back. "And he is."
"You're just in luck. Annabel here is a trained carrier pigeon. We usually have a show during the weekends where we send messages for customers." The man said. "She can help you send a reply to your friend."
Well, the pigeon couldn't possibly carry something too heavy, so that would be in Kai's favour. "Sure."
He was given a pencil and a slip of paper to write on. He scribbled a sentence, then returned it to the man and told him Gaillard's address. The man rolled up Kai's message, tied it to one of the pigeon's leg and let it fly to another part of town.
The bird returned faster than Kai had expected. He was finally free to leave as the man and Annabel the pigeon went on their way. Just as he turned a corner, a short person bumped into him.
"Damn you, Kai Toshiki!"
Kai looked down. It was Gaillard himself.
"How did you find me?" Kai asked.
"I followed the pigeon." Gaillard said, surreptitiously fiddling with the remnants of bird poop at the back of his hair. He was wet from head to shirt, having probably poured water over himself before heading out. "My, you're quick at gaining connections overseas. And bird versus cat, really?"
"Wait. What are you talking about?"
Gaillard guessed correctly that Kai had forgotten what he had sent Gaillard and took out the message from his coat's pocket. Kai ignored Gaillard's exaggerated sigh and read his own writing:
Have reached. Saw a bird preying on a cat. Made me think of you.
A/N: And thus ends the second week, in which I still seek straightforwardly romantic plots to write about. Never mind. By the way, my headcanon is that Kai's English is as good as teenage Haruki Murakami's. Now back to looping "hit me baby one more time" in anticipation of tomorrow's episode!