Chapter 4: April – Lie

Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Shion silently watched as the light of the new morning slowly crept over the concrete of the streets. If he'd open the windows, he'd hear birds sing, and smell the fresh scent of flowers mixed with the mild hint of the morning dew, short the scent of spring.

It had taken long for spring to come this year and Shion was unbelievably happy it had finally arrived. He didn't exactly have a preference towards cold or warm, winter or summer, after all liking one better wouldn't make any difference, they'd still both come, so it wasn't as if Shion had wished for this winter to end because he disliked it.

It was simply that while he didn't prefer a season in general, after a while it was getting tedious. The snow, the constant cold, the lack of vibrant colors in the parks and only little daylight, all this wore him down after a certain period.

And while he mostly considered himself neutral when it came to season-business, he had to admit that he quite liked the time when the air would slowly warm up and the plants would take on their healthy, lush green once again, the flowers starting to bloom.

With a sigh Shion raked his hand through his hair.

His mother kept on telling him he should get it cut sometime, but Shion didn't see any reason in doing so. It didn't bother him at work if he tied it back into a little ponytail, and from an aesthetic point of view he didn't mind either.

Actually it had been quite nice during the colder months that his hair reached a little past his shoulders now.

He had once caught himself trying to arrange his hair in a way that was similar to Nezumi's, but somehow he hadn't succeeded. It always looked different from the little ponytail Nezumi had sported.

So instead he had resorted to binding his hair without greater effort, only assuring it wouldn't fall into his eyes at work.

A creaking noise made him spin around.

His co-worker froze in the door-frame, careful not to drop the tray with two cups of coffee he was carrying.

"Sorry, Shion, didn't mean to startle you. Simply thought you could use one of these." he explained, raising the tray only slightly to indicate what 'these' were.

"Oh, thanks a lot. You didn't have to bother making one for me.", Shion replied and stood up from his seat on the windowsill, hurrying over to take the cup that had been prepared for him.

"Nah, don't worry, making one or two cups, hardly any difference." Kastor replied, with a weary but bright smile.

"Thanks anyways." Shion said, taking a sip. He frowned a little at the bitterness, but he was well aware that only this way he was going to get the amount of caffeine he needed, so he bore with it.

"Well, how are the preparations going?" Kastor asked casually, leaning against the now deserted windowsill.

"Better than last year, that's for sure. Though still far from perfect." Shion answered, moving to sit down on the corner of his desk, which was placed right beside the window.

The spring festival was drawing close.

It was a stupid, vague name and had been meant to only be some sort of working title, some way to refer to the event while it was in planning, but by the time it had been due to be announced, none of the committee members had had the time or energy to think of any other name, so they went with the working title, named after the season it was held in, the 'spring festival'.

It's original purpose had been to provide some sort of entertainment for the tired citizens to relish. Four months after the fall of the walls, the reconstruction was progressing slowly, which caused a lot of frustration.

Adding to that was the still present resentment of former No.6 citizens and West Block residents.

There had been difficulties especially at the districts where those two former zones collided. No.6 residents weren't able to let go of their prejudices just like that, from one day to the other, and it wasn't much different for the people from the West Block.

Shion had thought everything would go just fine. Or at least he had pretended to think so, because deep down he had known perfectly well that the wall wasn't only a physical barrier. Its meaning, the separation of No.6 and the West Block, had been etched too deep into the minds of the people to be overcome with the destruction of the wall. Of course it wasn't heaven, just like Nezumi had predicted. On the other hand, it wasn't quite hell as well. Sure, there were problems, rather many to be honest, but there were people on both sides working hard to solve them, to overcome the boundaries that had been placed upon them by some invisible force.

Still, those early days hadn't been the prettiest, to say the least, and a distraction was very well needed. Actually, at the time the spring festival had been firstly held Shion hadn't been in the committee and had still been far from entering at all. Back then he had been sixteen years old, a fact that pretty much spoke for itself. And although in retrospective, all of this "wall-coming-down" and "lets-make-us-one-society"-business had been his to start, partly, the remnants of the city were still ruled by legal adults. And those didn't consider it helpful in any way to let a child have a say considering the really important choices. Because that was what they had seen in him, Shion knew that much.

Still, he hadn't ever cared about it. In the first months he had been more than happy to be able to go out and help right where his help was needed, with his own hands, helping to rebuild houses, restore lives. It hadn't lasted long, though, since in the end he had wanted to influence the way how No.6 was rebuild, so that it wouldn't ever have the chance to go corrupt again, making it impossible for anyone to declare it as a parasite ever again.

At first it had been small visits to the headquarters of the reconstruction committee, where he had only voiced suggestions about which things needed to be done, where work or funding was required, which social programs should be enhanced and which weren't showing any effect at all.

And one year ago—after he had pretty much already turned into a regular member going by the number of his visits –he had finally officially joined the committee. That was half an year after his eighteenth birthday.

Since then his life had been spent inside, behind a desk, buried below papers. He was doing a good job at organizational stuff, everyone knew that, as they shoved more and more work onto him. The reward for work well done was even more work, apparently.

And just like that the organization of the spring festival had drifted into his jurisdiction as well. Shion didn't really mind, though.

Over the years the spring festival had turned from a little event occupying about one street into an unbelievably big project, that even attracted foreign tourists. During the festival, pretty much all streets from Lost Town to Chronos were filled with people. The booths lining up in the streets were selling pretty much everything, from food over jewelry to colorfully painted wooden puppets, made by children from the former West Block.

From everywhere music and laughter could be heard and at one point even a parade had sneaked into the progress. There were people in colorful costumes standing upon wagons, driving through the streets, people from No.6 and the West Block alike.

Shion remembered once reading about a festival called "carneval", that had been celebrated decades ago, a festival with costumes equally as pompous and colorful, and he couldn't help but wonder whether the former project leader had read the same books and had been inspired by the descriptions.

Sometimes, especially in late winter and early spring, in the months prior to the festival when documents concerning pre-planning issues landed on his desk more and more often, he caught himself fantasizing about Nezumi.

He imagined that, in between the crowd of people who were swarming the streets throughout the festival, amidst the colorful confetti that rained down, that there beside one of the booths that sold sweet buns Nezumi would stand. He wouldn't have noticed Shion yet, his eyes still fixed on some far away point—perhaps some musicians playing, or an amateur acting group, hired for entertainment.

A little condescending smirk would be adorning his features, maybe directed towards the poor performance he was watching or present because he thought the reason for the whole celebration was a petty one; even in his own imagination Shion couldn't tell Nezumi's thoughts.

He himself would simply be standing there, uncaring about the fact that he was practically in the middle of the street, blocking the flow of pedestrians.

There'd be curses all around him, and occasional shoves, but Nezumi still wouldn't look up, wouldn't notice him.

Shion would have the control over when and how to step in front of Nezumi.

And so he—"Hey, Shion, were you listening?"

Baffled Shion looked up at his co-worker, and Kastor only reacted with a slightly distressed shake of his head. "I take that deer-in-the-headlights expression as a no. Is the coffee not strong enough?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, I was unfocussed for a second. What were you saying?" Shion replied, swiftly avoiding the question about the strength of his coffee. He knew his co-worker well enough by now to identify it as a rhetorical one either way.

"I was telling you that the singing duo we were going to hire has quit. Apparently some sort of internal disagreement, don't know the details. But we're going to have to search for other attractions, especially for musical ones. I heard about this singer, who's been traveling through a few villages down south. He's said to have an unbelievably impressive voice, but he never stays for long. We might be able to bait him for the festival though." Sip. "The pay's quite decent after all."

"He won't come.", Shion silently replied, gaze wandering away from Kastor's frame sitting in the window to the sky. The sun had started to paint the few clouds various shades of red, yellow and orange, making for a perfect match with the blue of the sky itself.

He hadn't told anyone of his co-workers about Nezumi. He didn't see any reason to do so, after all, what would they gain from the knowledge? Actually he wanted to avoid the topic of the mysterious traveling singer. It was one that had arisen about ten months ago and for Shion it had hardly been difficult to put one and one together, since no matter how often Inukashi insisted to tell him otherwise, he wasn't an idiot.

When he first had heard it, he had been tempted—no that was an understatement, he had been desperately craving to seek Nezumi out, to follow the trail he left. But something had held him back.

This wouldn't have been right. If Shion were to go after Nezumi... he feared that if he actually found him, Nezumi would be angry with him for not respecting his wish to be alone. He was afraid he'd make it worse, that Nezumi would run from him, permanently this time, because he didn't want to have anything to do with someone like Shion, who couldn't put faith in the promise he'd been given.

The thought to lose Nezumi forever... what were a few more months, years, if they guaranteed a proper, lasting reunion?

Nezumi had told him he wasn't ready, that he couldn't stay in No.6 with Shion just yet. And thus Shion had to wait for Nezumi's return, because only his return would mean he was ready.

He told himself he was fine with that, that he would faithfully wait, and that it was okay for Nezumi to search for whatever he was searching for for as long as he needed. That he was okay with the fact that he hadn't had any say in the matter. Still, he was bad at fooling himself on that subject. Because the thought that he wasn't bothered... it was a complete lie. How the hell shouldn't he be bothered? It was this feeling of helplessness, that crept onto him when he thought about how he was always left to wait for Nezumi to decide. He was left at his mercy, Nezumi held all the strings in his hands, pulling them like he wanted to, Shion only reacting. It was frustrating, making him want to scream all the built up irritation out.

Still, perhaps it came with age, with every day, every month, every year that passed, but he'd slowly come to accept the fact that in this matter, right there and then, he was expected to stay put.

But be warned, Nezumi. This is the last time I'm ever going to have you have your will. I promise you, once you're back, you'll see that I'm not the little, easily controllable teenager I used to be any longer. Leave me once again and I'll chase you to the end of the world.

Just try—"Shion? Seriously, dude, catch some sleep." Kastor said and the following words were muffled by the sip of coffee he took, but Shion was able to make them out as: "You're spacing out again already."

"I wasn't spacing out." Shion halfheartedly complained, although he knew exactly he was. He always seemed to be when his thoughts wandered to Nezumi.

That earned him a disbelieving glance, but since it was futile to prod into the territory any further Kastor simply repeated his question. "That singer, what makes you so sure he wouldn't come?"

"I mean, it's obvious, isn't it?" Shion started, almost absentmindedly. His voice drafted through the room, as if he was reasoning for himself rather than for Kastor. "He's been gaining a reputation over the last year, and still, any time he performs it's in some small village. There's no way those villages or tavern owners can pay him that much, and with his fame he could easily get jobs at bigger cities. Why hasn't he, when it would be bound to get him better pay? The only logical reason is that he's purposefully avoiding bigger cities. And doesn't care about money that much that we could lure him in with it."

He's probably trying to avoid being seen by too many people. He soundlessly added and an usually repressed part of his mind snarled: He's probably trying to avoid being seen by you.

Kastor still looked at him doubtingly, but stayed silent for a change.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to keep looking for other performers either way." he finally said, emptying his cup with a last gulp. "But you really should get some sleep, you know. It isn't good to work till you drop. You're still needed here, Shion."

Shion couldn't help the silent chuckle that escape him at the parallelism to the words Rikiga used to tell him. "I know that. There are just a few things that need to be done till ten, because then the council will need the documentation. It's kinda important for the upcoming conference."

"Ah, now then I won't keep you back any longer." Kastor reasoned, dusting his pants off as if thee actually was a way for them to get dirty while he was leaning against the windowsill. "God, I don't even want to imagine where we would be if it weren't for you."

Shion waved the compliment aside with a silent chuckle, a reaction that might have been caused by a slight cause of sleep-drowsiness which came scarily close to tipsiness. It wasn't as if he was particularly bashful, he simply didn't know how else to react, since even if he were able to recognize them pretty well by now, he had to yet find a way to conveniently respond to rhetorical questions beside ignoring them.

After Kastor had exited the office, the time seemed to blur and once Shion finally looked up again the sun had already fully emerged from behind the horizon. Most of the birds had ceased or at least muted their cheerful singing, and Shion knew they wouldn't start again until the moon would begin to crawl it's way onto the sky.

Though he didn't exactly intend to think that far ahead right now. No, he wasn't even pretty much able to think two minutes ahead, and only the fact that he was literally able to find his way home half to three quarter asleep saved him from waking up somewhere in the middle of the park or somewhere else on the streets.

He didn't even bother checking the mailbox or undressing. Somewhere in the back of his mind his common-sense was loudly complaining that he'd have wrinkles in his clothes the next day, which would mean he would have to put them into the laundry after wearing them only once, but a much bigger, much more dominant part told him that actually right now he didn't care. Which was quite a civil formulation, considering what Shion had heard that part say if he was tired enough.

So he simply shrugged out of his shoes, tossed the jacket carelessly over the couch, the belt followed right after and then he fell into bed, face first.

For a moment he lay there, breathing in the scent of hibiscus that came with the washing powder he used. He indulged in it, let it overwhelm his senses and make him wonder why it made him think of sunshine, of blue skies and cold water, until he realized that somewhere in the depth of his mind the memory of a day in late autumn was hidden.

It was hardly more than a blurred image, a few scents and faint feelings anymore. Because no matter how intelligent he was, how much his brain was able to keep, three years were a long time, and he couldn't store all of the days he had spent in the West Block with Nezumi somewhere where they wouldn't eventually fade. He wished he could, he really did. Sometimes he cursed his inability at doing anything creative—like drawing or even writing. He had tried. Multiple times. But the result had always been horrendous, and so eventually he had given up, had resigned himself to the fact, that there only were a few moments he would be able to preserve, to keep in his mind as clear as if they'd happened the day before. All other memories... they would be replaced once Nezumi was back. There would be dozen other to hold dear eventually, that was what he told himself whenever he mourned the fact that he was no longer able to recall the exact scent of the basement chamber or the sound the cicadas had made the first few days after his more or less involuntary arrival.

Nezumi's return... The time Nezumi will return... the day...

Shion rolled over, wrapped himself halfheartedly in the sheets and let his mind drift of.

…

Amidst the booths he could make him out. There was no one else it could be. He was leaning against the left wall of the narrow alleyway right across from Shion. The posture, the clothes, everything about this person screamed Nezumi. But still, there was the crowd of people in the street, separating them.

And his vision was obscured by all the confetti flying around the air, whipped up by the gust that was rushing through the streets, tugging at his hair.

"Stupid wind." He thought, as he tried to hold the streaks that had been tugged loose in place, and as an afterthought added. "Stupid confetti." Because it was the reason why he wasn't able to see Nezumi's face from the safe distance.

He was forced to move in, making his way over. He wasn't good at taking the initiative if he knew there was a lot at stake. He always needed someone to push him, to urge him to take the first step.

Well, he thought, this time it seems to be this stupid confetti.

And so he took the first step.

—oOo—

Shion sometimes imagines his and Nezumi's reunion. He knows the most likely scenarios are those where Nezumi has complete control of the situation. There is the possibility of him suddenly sitting on Shion's bed one day when he returns from works, having broken in through the window or the one where he's obediently awaiting Shion on the outside of his office.

Shion actually wouldn't even put it past him to slip out from the shadows of one of the many dark corners Shion passes on a daily basis. There is the 'shocking him out of his mind once again by speaking through a robot mice out of the blue' and the 'casually knocking on his frontdoor as if he'd never been away'.

Actually the spring festival scenario, where Shion takes the first step, is among very sparse company, but still, in all reunion-scenarios he does assume his reaction to be pretty much the same.

No matter how Nezumi shows up, no matter who takes the first step or who's in control of the situation, no matter if it will be day or night, if Shion's surprised or expectant, he will always walk up to Nezumi and stand there, as his equal in intellect... and probably in height just as well.

He'd been nowhere to fully grown as Nezumi left it had turned out, and Shion is confident he will be able to look Nezumi in the eyes without stretching, without having to gaze up at him like he's looking at some sort of unearthly being that'll never even think of binding itself to someone like Shion.

He'll walk up to him, looking sternly at first, hoping to kinda throw Nezumi off-balance by making him think he's angry at him. But once he's right in front of him he'll let his mouth widen into a warm smile, the one he had been told resembled his mother's, letting all of his happiness show.

And then he'll mutter the words he's been wanting to say all this time, knowing that once Nezumi returns he'll finally be able to accept them—"Welcome home."

When Nezumi comes back he won't cry, won't give the other teen another chance to make fun of him.

That's the way Shion imagines it, tells himself it'll go, tells himself his reaction will be like.

It might be one of the best he's telling to himself, but in the end it is a lie.
Shion is Shion, and as Shion he'll always be flailing when faced with Nezumi.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I am so, so sorry for being late. More than late, actually. After all this was a twelve months challenge and I failed... after only three months... but okay, for anyone who's actually still reading this story, I'll definitely continue it till the very end! I'm gonna try to get the May chapter done in time, but RL is a bitch and keeping me occupied much more than I'd like right now, so it might be early June, but it will come! I hope you can forgive me for the irregularities.

Anyway, I've been having some sort of writing crisis, and somehow my writing style seems... strange to me, especially that last part where I did some really experimental style change, with the tempus and all that.
Please tell me what you think about it, because reviews make me the most happy person in the world!

Also, as a side note, sorry for the crappy reference XD It's become some sort of game with myself to incorporate references to books that moved me or to persons that play a big role in the No.6 fandom, at least for me that is.
I hope the reference wasn't too off-putting, and that who doesn't know the person refered to didn't notice it, while those who do did catch it. Although that wasn't quite difficult this time...
If I'm correct, no one caught the references in the last chapters, did they? Chapter one sadly didn't have one yet, chapter two had a book reference and chapter three had person and book reference, just for your information.