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Comment vous dire…
Truth be told, not even the jazz that normally kept him excited was working at the moment.
La vérité finit toujours par se découvrir…
It's not that the song itself had gotten old. As always the music pumping through his headphones was a familiar friend, the strains of brass and electronic keeping him grounded. Keeping him alive.
Á chaque jour suffit sa peine…
No, the problem was that after an entire day of driving, looking at the same line of buildings and urban sprawl had gotten pretty fucking old at this point.
Chacun trouve chaussure à son pied…
Sighing, Kazuo turned away from the window, despite that the view inside the car wasn't any less familiar: Kana, still sleeping, head lightly resting upon her own window, cane laid across her lap, already preparing for her eventual freedom from the too-cramped car. His dad, still driving, still chattering on and on about everything and nothing all at the same time, never mind the fact that his wife and daughter had fallen asleep hours ago and his son had been plugged into an iPod the entire time.
So yeah, on either side: the view was getting unfortunately stale all things considered.
"La temps blanchit les têtes sans mûrir la raison…"
Almost unconsciously the final lyrics slipped out of Kazuo's mouth, the end of the stanza filling the almost dead air in the car with his accidental French. Both his sister and his dad turned to look at him, or at least in his general direction, one with a highway to focus on and one still half-asleep.
"Kazuo, you're singing in French again…" Obviously still out of it for the most part, Kana hadn't even bothered to open her eyes; her voice was still slow, only the barest hint of amusement in it. On the other hand, in contrast to her sleepy admonishment, his father managed to somehow increase his rate of speech, as if having two awake targets made him all the more enthusiastic.
"You two finally awake back there? Your dad is getting lonely, you know, I've been talking to myself for the past 30 minutes!"
Turning down his music, Kazuo didn't bring it to his attention that he had actually been talking to himself for the last hour and a half; apparently he had only recently noticed that fact that everyone else in the car was down for the count. Neither he nor Kana mentioned the fact that his voice was somewhat ragged, the cheerfulness in it a bit forced, the energy seemingly negated by the whitening of his knuckles around the steering wheel. He had been driving for 5 hours straight, after all; it wasn't too much to assume that he was as stressed out as the rest of his family seemed to be relaxed. Nonetheless, he pressed on, not letting to want his captive audience to slip away from him.
"Look, I know it's been a long time coming, but...we're almost there, you two! New schools for the both of you, a new hos- new care for Wakana...a fresh start for the entire family!"
At that last sentence, he faltered a bit, as if he was trying to convince himself as well as his two children. For the briefest of moments, his eyes flickered back to Kazuo; in turn, Kazuo turned back towards the window, left hand instinctively going to the silver ring on his right one. For a second, the car was silent, the rush of the highway the only thing competing with Kazuo's music at this point. Then, with a turn of the wheel, the eldest Suzuki went right back into his monologue as if nothing had happened.
"And there we are, right in front of us!"
Leaving the city and the shoreline behind, the car drove onto a bridge, and there, standing just over the ocean: Tatsumi Port Island, the collection of buildings gleaming in the August afternoon sunlight. Craning his head towards the window, Kazuo could already make out the alien yet already all-too-familiar hospital, and he could imagine that his new school was just a bit further away.
"I know that we're not visiting under the best of circumstances…"
Again, a pause, and again, a glance towards the backseat, this time at Kana (who had already gone back to sleep)
"...but anyway, welcome to Tatsumi-"
The music stopped.
That was the first thing Kazuo noticed.
There was the sound of glass shattering.
That was the second thing.
The third thing Kazuo noticed was the boy, suddenly sitting in between him and Kana as if he had been in the car for the entire time, And not just sitting, but seemingly sleeping, his head tilted onto his chest, one cheek resting on his own pair of headphones that were wrapped around his neck. A boy with unnaturally dark blue hair, a uniform jacket that was uncomfortably familiar, and apparently not a single care in the world. Kazuo reacted on instinct.
The first punch hit the intruder square in the jaw.
He had never been a fighter. But she had taught him how to defend himself, mostly by beating him up, and so Kazuo knew that a straight jab like that should've hurt, or at the very least drawn some reaction besides the boy calmly, slowly, lazily opening his eyes (or the eye Kazuo could see, anyway, his right being covered by a fringe of that dark blue hair)
"...That hurt, you know."
His voice was just as relaxed and calm as his reaction had been, although Kazuo noticed that it also seemed somewhat hoarse, as if it hadn't been used in weeks or months. There was also a hint of dry sarcasm hidden somewhere in there, as if it didn't hurt at all and he was merely humoring Kazuo.
Which was when Kazuo punched him again.
This time, the eye narrowed into an expression something like concern. Sighing, the boy gently moved Kazuo's fist off of his face and placed it back at his side.
"Look, I don't care how you react, but I only have a few minutes before it notices that I'm distracted and tries to destroy all of humanity again, so it's probably a good idea that you listen, alright?"
From nowhere, the boy produced a slim folder; like everything else about him, it was blue, a rich cobalt embossed with a lighter blue butterfly. On appearance it looked to be the same as any standard two-pocket folder, albeit a bit fancier and more durable than most.
So why did Kazuo get a rush of nervous energy just looking at the thing?
Seemingly unaware of the rising tension levels of the car, the boy in headphones slowly handed it to Kazuo, as if the act of moving his arm 6 inches was vastly draining on him. With hands that he had to keep from trembling Kazuo took it, the folder somehow warm and chilling all at once. Drawn to the butterfly design on the cover, it was a moment before he noticed that the…guest was talking to him again.
"Don't be scared. It's just a contract; open it up."
A small smirk appeared on the boy's face.
"All it says…is you'll accept full responsibility for your actions this year. I've already...taken care of the hard part, so it's just the usual stuff. Just sign your name and…the Nose will handle the rest, I guess."
With another almost unnoticeable hand movement, a blue pen appeared in the boy's hand. Handing it to Kazuo with the same lack of urgency despite his earlier warning, the boy then returned to his original position, closing his eyes as if he had nothing further to say. At this point, Kazuo didn't bother to stop his hands from trembling. He felt…not scared. He wasn't scared. He was more…anxious. Nervous. Looking at the folder gave Kazuo the same sense of anticipation as he would if he were about to dive off of a cliff. There was that feeling of inevitability, of being drawn into something that he couldn't possibly control.
He opened the folder.
The contents were almost plain compared to the outside. Simply a plain white sheet of paper, with a few lines written in, of course, pale blue ink.
Death is not a hunter unbeknownst to its prey
Yet this life is yet mine to control
Whether there are temptations within my heart
Whether there are dangers along my path
I chooseth this fate of mine own free will.
"Of mine own free will…" Kazuo muttered to himself, the five lines almost searing themselves into his eyes.
I'm dreaming.
Something about the lines was resonating within his mind far more than it should have.
Dad was talking, and I fell asleep like Kana, and I've been dreaming this whole time.
In the back of his mind, despite his iPod having turned off of its own accord, Kazuo could hear the sound of strings.
And if this is a dream, signing this contract won't mean anything.
A gentle song, rolling over him, drowning him in its music.
And she would…
The music, that he had never heard before, that felt so familiar, that reminded him of a home long forgotten.
She would take the risk.
Slowly,
Slowly.
He wrote out his name on the line below the apparent contract. Despite not seeing it, the boy smiled, seemingly satisfied with the results.
"Kazuo…"man of harmony", huh? Nice name."
With that insight into the writing of his name that he couldn't have possibly known, the boy moved his hands again, the contract and pen instantly vanishing from Kazuo's hands as he did so. Just like that, the tension in the car dissipated, the only evidence that…something had just transpired being Kazuo's still racing heart. All at once the questions that he wanted to ask came spilling out.
"Who are- no, how did you- but- what- what fate-"
Again, the boy opened his visible eye. Kazuo stopped short, his questions suddenly halted. In that single glance, he was somehow able to convey a message: Not yet. Not now. And even if that message hadn't been enough to stop the flow of questions…
Looking down, Kazuo could see the boy beginning to break apart. Already up to his ankles he had dissolved, his feet having been replaced by a shimmering cloud of small blue butterflies, the same as had appeared on the contract Kazuo had just signed. As if this gradual disappearance held no danger to him, the boy began speaking in the same casual, almost bored tone that he had maintained this entire time.
"I guess…there's no S.E.E.S. anymore, but talk to Mitsuru if you can get a hold of her. Ken should still be at Gekkoukan, so he wouldn't be too bad either. When you meet Elizabeth, be sure to take her back to Paulownia Mall, just…keep her away from the fountains."
By now the entire lower half of his body had disappeared into the azure swarm, and now his voice took on a hint of urgency, if increasing his rate of speaking from "interminably slow" to just "annoyingly slow" could count as a urgency.
"The Evoker won't actually hurt anyone, but don't go pointing it at people anyway. Officer Kurosawa can't really ignore a bunch of students going around waving guns at people, real or not." Pointing to Kazuo's headphones with a finger that was already dissipating, he gave a slight smile. "The music helps a little bit. At night, when you're alone with nothing but shadows."
As if this line triggered another memory, the smile on his face turned into something more fragile, more hurt.
"Alone...The Magician is going to be your friend whether you like it or not, so you might as well get used to him early. Same for The Lovers, just don't…"
At this point, he stopped talking; whether it was due to the fact that now all that remained of him was a head and the upper part of his torso or something else Kazuo couldn't tell. Either way, it only lasted for a moment, and then he was continuing.
"Don't get too close. Or if you do, just…prepare for anything, I guess. I'm not sure what happened to Aigis at this point, but if you find her, tell her…"
Now there was almost nothing left. And yet, despite his throat fading away, his mouth quick to follow, his voice was still loud and clear.
"Tell her that Sakuya is sorry. For making her wait."
For a moment, there was silence, and Kazuo could somehow instinctively tell that the now-massive swarm of butterflies was being held together by some immense willpower alone. Finally the boy's voice, disconnected from any real sort of source, was fading, and Kazuo had to strain to catch his final words.
"Don't worry. You…the two of you…can handle it."
And with that, the cloud exploded, a soundless burst of fluttering wings
and motes of blue light
and a rush of cool air
"-Port Island!"
As if nothing had happened.
Comment vous dire...
The music began to play again.
La vérité finit toujours par se découvrir…
The car drove forward.
Á chaque jour suffit sa peine…
Kana and his mother slept soundly.
Chacun trouve chaussure à son pied…
And the bridge was left behind, and the city with it, and Tatsumi Port Island unfolded in front of him.
La temps blanchit les têtes sans mûrir la raison…