II
"Stars will fall/the sky will sigh/the Door remains/beyond end of time."
Path Song. Traditional.
Akari used to dream about her grandpa, after he had passed away. She had always found it strange how grandma didn't seem very sad. There hadn't been a coffin, or a funeral. Papa hadn't even cried, even though that was his own papa. It was more like he had just left, rather than died. In fact, that was how the Tsukumo family acted. Like grandpa was just on a trip for a while, and might be back someday. Akari might have thought that was the case if it wasn't for all the people telling her how sorry they were for her loss.
She had been seven, and Yuma was no more than a bulge in mother's belly. She remembered pressing her head to mother's belly to see if Yuma would kick, and then asking where grandpa had gone.
Her mother had simply smiled.
"Back where he belonged," was all she had said.
Akari had frowned, and returned to trying to listen for her little brother moving inside mother.
These thoughts flittered through her mind as she stood at the end of the path, the one that she recognized. Her first dreams had been when she was seven, right after grandpa had died. They had stopped some time ago, and she had thought that maybe, they had been only dreams.
But standing here, she wondered how she could have thought it was anything but real. She recognized the winding black stone of the crumbling path, the darkness that dripped on either sides of it, an abyss of air and ink. She recognized the glimmers of red lights that danced in the air before winking out, the barest hint of stars. There was no sky, or ceiling, either. That shouldn't have made sense, but to her, standing there, it did. The sky was a thing that did not exist in this world.
There was a horizon, though, a halo of soft light in a color she could not understand at the far end of the path. It outlined the wall, and the Door that stood at the end of the path, chaining the wall closed. The Door was a dragon's head, with burning, glowing eyes, and a keyhole between its nostrils that was big enough to fit both of her fists inside.
She didn't move from the path at first. It had been a long time since she had been here, she could remember. Somehow, she had forgotten about being here before. Was it because the memory of this place could not exist in the daylight? Or was it because she had written it off as a child's fantasy? Not that she was an adult now...she was only twelve, and mature enough to admit that she wasn't very old at all.
Grandpa sat on the steps leading up to the door. She could see the lanky, too long, too skinny frame, the waves of white hair that fell thick over shoulders and down the back, thick bangs completely covering eyes, the hint of wrinkles on a sharp face. Bony fingers resting on bony knees. But there was nothing intimidating about the figure. There was a relaxed sense to the position, a slumping of the shoulders and a tilt of the head that seemed less frightening, and more like that of an old man that was sitting on a rocking chair on the porch, ready to tell a story about the "good old days."
Grandpa was looking at her. She could tell, even though the eyes were covered with bangs.
"Hello," she said, softly. "Hello, jii-san."
Her grandfather smiled. It was that quiet, crinkly smile she remembered, the one that made the thin mouth look like just a fold in the face. One hand rose up and beckoned to her, to come down the path.
She did, picking her way down the winding and crumbling stone. She wasn't afraid of falling. She couldn't fall—not in grandpa's world. When she reached grandpa, she immediately threw her arms around bony shoulders and squeezed. Long arms wrapped around her like a protective shawl and she felt the soft sigh of breath against her hair.
"What's wrong?" she said next, as she stepped away from the hug.
"What makes you think something is wrong?"
"You stopped letting me come see you. But you did tonight. So something must be wrong."
A laugh. Breathy, more air than sound.
"Perhaps I simply missed you."
"I...I missed you too," she said. "I missed your stories."
She hesitated.
"But I know something must be wrong. Because you look sad."
"What makes me look sad?"
She could see the vague surprise in the rising of the shoulders.
"You're sitting on the steps. And you have your hands on your knees. And you're tapping your foot like you're trying to be cheerful. You always do that when you're telling a sad story."
Another soft, breathy laugh.
"You're a clever girl." A hand ruffled through her hair and she ducked her head, blushing. "You shouldn't worry...really, I only called you because I wanted to see how you were doing."
She glared, screwing up her face.
"I know that I'm just twelve," she said. "But I'm not dumb. You can talk to me about things, jii-san."
"And I will. Don't worry. If something is truly wrong, I will let you know. I'm simply...stressed out, I suppose."
A wide smile, one that actually showed a grin. Akari relaxed.
"Fine," she said, flopping down on the steps next to him. "But promise you'll tell me if things are wrong."
"I promise, dear one."
She leaned against the skinny frame, and an arm came around her shoulder to hold her gently.
"Kaa-san and to-chan keep leaving all the time. For longer and longer," she said.
"I know."
"Why do they need to do that? Or why can't they bring us with them at least?"
"I'm sure they wouldn't want you to miss too much school."
"Then why can't they stay?"
She glared up at her grandfather. Grandfather's eyes were hidden, as always, but she thought that she was meeting the gaze.
"Is that why you called me? You know what they're doing, don't you?"
Grandpa's head tilted away from hers.
"...yes."
Akari drew herself up and planted her hands on the step beside her.
"Tell me what's wrong," she demanded. "Jii-san—please. I'm getting...scared."
She bit her lip, trying to hold back sudden tears. Every month, it seemed, her mother and father disappeared, one or both of them, off on some quest. They couldn't stay still, grandma said, but Akari didn't think that was it. She had been checking their travel logs on the airfare service and they were going to the strangest places. As though they were looking for something.
"Jii-san," she said. Desperate. Voice choked. "Please."
Her grandfather did not look towards her.
Then her grandfather rose up on spindly legs and extended a hand to her.
"Follow me," he said. "I have to show you something."
Akari stared at the hand for a moment. Then she took it, gently at first, and then tightly, as though the other hand would disappeared.
Her grandfather stepped out into the darkness of the abyss. Stone grew to meet feet before they dropped into the abyss. Akari walked very close to her grandfather as they walked along, the path appearing with them and disappearing behind them, so that she wasn't sure how to get back without her grandfather, if she even could. The path didn't seem to exist until her grandfather needed it.
They walked into the darkness for a long time. Long enough that when Akari looked back, the Door was just a glowing smudge on the horizon.
And when she looked forward again, she could see light.
She sucked in a breath. Oh...oh it was...beautiful.
Twin swirling galaxies, hanging in the air before her. She felt like she could reach out and take one of those stars, but she knew she couldn't. They were far, far away, a glowing stain on the darkness—how had she never seen them before?
One pulsed a soft white blue, swirling outward with glimmers of rainbow lights scattered among the white. The other was a warm, rippling red, seemingly spiraling inward instead, with dots of black dancing around like planets among its movement.
Her hands reached out in spite of herself, pretending to cup the universes in both hands.
"It's beautiful," she said.
Her grandfather's hand rested on her shoulder and then tightened softly.
"It's wrong."
She blinked, and looked up. Those covered eyes stared out at the pair of worlds.
"Look closer, Akari."
Akari turned to face them again, staring. She squinted, trying to see what her grandfather was talking about.
And then she felt something creep into her stomach, like she was going to be sick.
"It's ripped," she said. "Why is it ripped?"
She could see a ripped edge between the two worlds, like a shattered mirror, fracturing the stars between them. There was something about the way that they were moving towards each other, pressing on that wound in the sky, as though it were sending more cracks through the worlds.
"I wasn't supposed to show you this," her grandfather said. "I wasn't supposed to see you again."
Knelt down on long legs in front of her, gripping her shoulders so that she could, for a moment, she thought, see the eyes underneath.
"But you deserve to know. You deserve to know what has happened. How we failed."
A faint brushing of lips against her forehead. It felt dry, papery, like the lips were made of parchment.
"You have hell in front of you, and it's only just beginning."
Lips turned into the barest frown.
"I'm sorry. We should not have put this on the shoulders of our children."
"I don't...understand."
And then they were standing in front of the Door again, and her grandfather was standing up, turning towards the giant monolith. She couldn't move. But her hand reached out towards her grandfather's back.
"Wait..."
"He will come here...soon. Soon for me, at least, you might...have a few years yet. But it will happen, and you deserve to know what is going to happen, even if it is against the rules. Things are already starting."
Her grandfather ascended the steps, but hesitated in front of the door. Turned around to face her again. This time, she could see his eyes: pure black, full black, with more than one hint of an ember spark glowing in their depths.
"I believe that he will need more than his own strength...and I believe that you can give that to him."
"Jii-san," she said. "Wait, please, I don't understand..."
"I'm sorry, but this is all I can give you."
A faint smile.
"I love you, Akari...I'm sorry. I hope we can meet again."
Akari managed a step forward as her grandfather turned away again.
"Wait!" she cried. "W-where does that Door go?"
A question she had asked, every single time, every time she had been here.
She already knew what answer she would be given.
"Depends on where you need to go."
And then she was waking up, gasping and struggling for breath as she fought the covers twisted around her chest. She stopped struggling for a moment, and just laid there, breathing, staring at her ceiling.
Had it been just a dream? Like the others?
She could feel the coolness of that unnatural darkness on her skin.
Somehow, she knew it wasn't a dream.
Dammit, grandpa.