Author's Notes: So, sorry that I didn't finish posting this several months ago. Events overwhelmed me and I forgot about it. So, without further ado, I'll probably just put up each next chapter for the next few days until it's finished. Note that if there are typos in people's names, that's because a few years ago I thought I might submit this story as a real novel to publishers, and to that end I changed the Sailor Moon names. I've tried to change them all back for posting the revised version, but obviously find/replace is only so functional. I know that there are some places where Mina's name is May, there might be others. Sorry about that! Just pretend :)
Book Five: Why I Changed My Mind
She hadn't said that. Of course I had simply misheard her. He was hurt of course, but he couldn't be dying. Mamoru didn't die, he did infuriating things, but he was too...competent to die. He kissed me. People who kiss me don't die.
I felt dirt and water seep through my kimono. When had I knelt down? I knew I must be crying, because I could hardly see, but I couldn't feel anything.
"Serena!" Petunia shouted, forcefully lifting my shaking body from the ground. "Snap out of it! Do you want to save him or not?"
"S-save him?" I said.
"If we hurry, there's still a chance."
"But you said..."
"I know. He is. I can't use much magic, but...I'll use some. He may pull through."
I was an automaton. I stumbled over to his body, and dimly registered that he had passed out. Petunia knelt by him and signaled for me to do so as well.
"Call the power, Serena. We can't move him without it," Petunia said, and I stared at her blankly. "You've used it before," she said. "Remember how you got here the first time?"
I nodded.
"We have to enter the trance together. Only I know where this place is." I didn't quite understand her, but I was determined to do anything to save Mamoru. The trance came easily, and I immediately understood what I was supposed to do. I just acted as an extra conduit to her power. I had a brief sensation of chocolate and honeysuckle before we moved into limbo area. We stayed there for far longer than I had before, though, and I sensed it was because Petunia was at once struggling to keep Mamoru alive and move us somewhere. When we arrived, I opened my eyes, half expecting to see twenty-first century America. Instead, she had taken us to a small cottage in a clearing surrounded by apple trees.
Petunia and I carried Mamoru inside as gently as possible. My hands grew slick with his blood almost immediately, but they were rock steady as I carried him. The cabin had a western interior, with European-style beds and a small fireplace and kitchen on one side. We laid him on the bed nearest to the door, and I stared at my hands. I did not want to look back at the gruesome trail we had left. How could this be happening? I began to shiver. Petunia, who had begun ripping off his clothes, shouted to me again.
"Come help me with this!" she said. I moved forward, grateful for another task to stave off a breakdown. We were careful around his wound, but it was large and his clothes had already begun to stick. Without the black shirt, its extent was even more apparent, and I could hardly look.
"Here," Petunia said, handing me a bucket from under the bed. "Fetch some water. There's a pump on the side of the house."
I nodded and ran, making each footfall, each breath a prayer for his safety. I pumped the water and sprinted back, half afraid that he had died in my absence. Petunia's frown of concentration told me that he hadn't. She dipped a cloth into the bucket and gently began cleaning the wound, muttering at odd intervals. I assumed that she was performing mild magic, because I could still smell honeysuckle.
"Whatever blade struck him was enchanted. Magic in the system acts like a poison...and this wound is already serious."
"So...you're saying--"
She shook her head. "No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying it's harder, because you can't use magic to cure magic fever. I couldn't use that much magic, anyway. It would make this place detectable."
"What can you do?"
She sighed. "I can stop a great deal of the bleeding by holding the wound together magically...like stitches. There are a few salves I keep around here made with rare healing herbs. It may help...I don't know."
His breathing was shallow and even now his face was twisted with pain, but at least he was still alive. And I would do anything, I realized, literally anything, to keep him that way. Petunia walked over to a chest in front of the beds and drew out several unlabeled glass jars.
"There's some linen in that closet," she said over her shoulder. "Can you rip it up into bandages?"
I nodded and tried to avoid tripping over my feet as I ran to the closet. I was still shaking, which made it difficult to tear the cloth into neat strips. The ones I handed to Petunia were uneven, but they worked. At first as she quickly wrapped the white cloth around his midsection, he groaned slightly, but then he fell silent and I could feel him slipping further away. I would have thought he had died after all, save for the shallow movement of his chest.
"Serena," Petunia said in a low, urgent voice. "Hold his hand, do something. He's going..."
I wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor, weeping. Instead, I knelt beside the bed, noted that the bed sheets were soaked in his blood and that even as Petunia wrapped the bandages more blood was soaking through. I noted it, but refused to give into the blind panic that it caused. And so, unsure of what else to do, I held his hand. It was limp and cold but I gripped it desperately, and stared into his slack face.
"Mamoru," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Please, hold on. Just make it through this...please." I barely noticed when Petunia finished bandaging him. When I looked up I saw that she had done the same for his shoulder as well.
"Serena, honey" I heard her say, as though she had been calling me for a while. "I must do what I can to clean this aura of magic...I'll come back."
I turned around, alarmed. What if he grew worse and I didn't know what to do? The space where she had been was empty, however. Turning back, feeling more helpless than ever, I took his hand again.
"If you think about it," I said, my tears dripping down my face and onto the bed. "you said that you had...enjoyed my company. I...I know that you'll miss calling me Lady Dumpling Head. And...Mamo-chan," my laugh was indistinguishable from a sob. "You always hated that name, didn't you? I thought it was cute. Maybe that's why you didn't like it. We went through all of this together, Mamoru. Everything...and you protected me, like you promised. Even when I didn't want to be protected. So...so please stay. Please stay..."
And everything broke. I knelt beside him and buried my head in the crook of his arm and cried. And just before exhaustion claimed me, I remembered our kiss, and my lips burned.
I awoke in the same position, feeling sunlight baking my back. My legs had fallen asleep and my face was sticky with tears. For a moment of bliss I had forgotten the events of the night before. But when I sat up, slowly, everything came crashing upon me. With a noise that was not so much a gasp as a sudden release of air, I stared at him, afraid that he had died while I slept. But no, he was still breathing. I prayed that he was better, that our efforts the night before had saved him. And as I stared, his eyes slowly opened. I saw him accept his surroundings quietly and then look at me. My heart was pounding, my lungs seemed incapable of taking a full breath. He smiled, and that simple action made me feel like running every way at once. I stayed where I was, paradoxically unable to move.
"Dumpling head," he said softly, and the dam broke all over again. I didn't care about anything anymore, now that he was safe. I sobbed next to him, and I felt his arm rest gently on my shoulders, as if to comfort me. It only made me cry harder, but this time half the tears were for joy.
The other half was for myself. Last night I had acknowledged something that had been true for a very long time. Perhaps since the first time I met him. I was desperately, wholeheartedly and riotously in love with the self-professed cocky bastard, Chiba Mamoru. It was, I knew, just about the dumbest thing I had ever done in a life replete with stupidities.
But at least for now, I could be content.
Petunia came in moments later, as though she had been waiting outside the door. She gave us a broad smile and the kind of unsubtle wink that reminded me of the Petunia I had met back in Georgetown. Her tense and competent demeanor of the night before had been like a completely different person. It also gave me the final assurance that Mamoru was truly safe. Petunia removed a small jar from the chest by the beds and put a small spoonful of its contents into a glass of water and stirred it thoroughly. She then walked over to Mamoru and gently pushed me out of the way. I let go of his hand reluctantly, half afraid that if I did so, he would disappear.
"Here," she said, holding the cup to his lips, "I know it tastes awful, but you need to sleep. It will help with the pain." He drank the contents with only a slight frown of distaste. I felt terrible for not realizing how much pain he must be in; I had been too relieved by his miraculous recovery. He fell asleep again almost immediately, and in sleep his face lost that pinched expression and regained some color. I stared at him, taking infinite pleasure from the mere contemplation of his features.
"Serena," Petunia said, "we need to talk."
I grunted an affirmative.
"Now, I believe, would be a good time." She grabbed my elbow and dragged me outside. I was annoyed, but before I could really work up a good pout, the beauty of my surroundings overcame me. It appeared that wherever she had taken us it was summer, because the apple trees were in full bloom and the leaves were deep green. The temperature was perfect. We sat on the small wooden porch of her cottage, and I turned to her.
"You have a great number of things to explain," I said.
She nodded. "And more than you expect, I imagine."
I raised my eyebrows, my sense of ease slowly flowing away. I felt as though I would need my wits about me during this exchange. "Perhaps we should start with you being the Lady. If you can solve these people's problems, why haven't you come down here already and fixed them? Don't tell me that you didn't know what was going on?"
She sighed, and shook her head. "Herman...he really has gone of the deep end this time, hasn't he? I always thought he was a little unbalanced, but this latent adolescence of his..."
"Herman? Whose Herman?"
She widened her violet eyes. "You don't know? He's the Kojin, of course. The people here can't pronounce Herman, and Kojin always did sound more forbidding. Herman always had that character flaw. He wanted people to fear him."
"Herman. You're telling me that the Kojin's name is Herman?" Suddenly, I had a vision of a short, rotund man with male-pattern baldness. He no longer seemed nearly so threatening. Despite myself I started to giggle, as much with the aftereffects of extreme shock as humor.
She smiled. "Herman Liverwell, to be precise. Well, Petunia isn't exactly the most forbidding name, either. Perhaps our parents didn't realize that we were destined to become major world figures...just in another world."
I stared at her again. "Your parents? You mean you really are brother and sister?"
"Well, we can't all be proud of our relations, now can we?" She shrugged philosophically. "We never liked each other much, and he always had an unhealthy obsession with power, but I would never have guessed him capable of something like this."
"So why don't you stop him?"
"He's my brother."
"He's killing thousands of people! This entire land lives in fear of the Kojin!"
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, my dear! Of course I would stop him if I could, it's just that I can't, that's all."
"The great Lady can't stop him? Why not?"
She gave me an impatient glance. "Our magic is too similar, and we have lived far too long. He knows the exact imprint of my magic and I know his. We are completely invulnerable to each other. The entire essence of magic attacks is surprise, you see. If you know exactly what someone is going to do before they do it, they've lost the battle before you start." She paused. "So I'm very afraid of the fact that he has given you two such a hard time."
"Why?"
"He knows that I can't hurt him. If he thought that your quest was simply to come and fetch me, he ought to have handed you flowers and given you a good luck party, for all the harm you would have caused him. But, he didn't. He sent men after you, dogged your footsteps, and almost killed Mamoru. And that means that he knows something I prayed he wouldn't figure out, and I don't know how he knows it."
"Knows what?"
"That you are indeed dangerous to him. And finding me would only render you more so, Serena."
"How...am I dangerous?" I asked slowly, now afraid that I did follow her, only too well.
She stared at me frankly. "Because you can use magic. You, and I and Herman are the only three, as far as I know, in this entire world."
Which explained a great deal, after all.
Petunia left to check on Mamoru, and I sat staring at the apple trees. In the back of my mind I had always thought that the Lady could solve our problems. Now, it seemed, things were going to be far more complicated
"Serena," she called from inside. "Can you give me a hand here? I want to change the sheets." Reluctantly, I stood up. When I entered, I saw that she was trying to remove the bloody sheets from underneath Mamoru, who was still asleep. After a few minutes of tugging on the sticky sheets--it was remarkable how desensitized I had become to blood--we stopped, frustrated.
"Why don't we just move him to that bed," I said, pointing to the one closer to the fireplace, "and then change these sheets?" She agreed, and we proceeded to haul his not inconsiderable bulk to the other bed. He groaned in his drugged sleep, although we tried to be as gentle as possible. I thought I saw more blood soak through his bandages.
"I think this is the last time we move him," Petunia said slowly, seeing the same thing.
"Are you still holding his wound together?"
She nodded. "As much as I can. Too much magic will only hurt him."
The thought of him hurting this much scared me. I wanted to take it all away, but the only thing I could do for him now was help Petunia. I removed the bloody sheets while she prepared to change his bandage. It was already soaked through with his blood, although I supposed that he was losing far less than he had before.
"Beyond the apple trees in back there's a little stream," Petunia said, "why don't you take some soap and go wash the sheets? You look like you need a break." I was about to protest, but then realized that she was right. This state of constant panic was wearing on my already taut nerves.
Apparently when Petunia said soap, she was not referring to modern-day laundry detergent, but what looked to be homemade lye soap. I took the soap and sheets and made my way to the stream. It was a shallow, bubbling brook that almost seemed to giggle at my arrival. This is such an enchanted place, I thought, looking around. I wondered where exactly we were--we had traveled here like one would to another world, and yet this did not feel precisely different from Umeru.
Kneeling, I separated the sheets and dunked the bloodiest one into the water first. The sudden rush of water against worn stones sounded eerily like a sigh of distaste. I tried to ignore the fact that the stream ran red with Mamoru's blood for quite some time. I scrubbed furiously, somehow feeling that if I cleaned every trace of blood from the sheets, it would be like he had never hurt himself at all.
I glanced up, startled, when Petunia walked towards the stream and squatted next to me.
"He's going to be all right," she said, taking the other sheet and dunking it into the water.
"I know. I do. It's just...I don't know if I can see him like this...hurting..."
"You'll have to, you know. I can't stay here much longer. After I show you what to do, you'll have to take care of him until he recovers."
I turned to face her now. "You're leaving? Already? What about Mamoru?"
She sighed. "I'm sorry, Serena, but I have to go. While I can't directly fight Herman, I can certainly try to save as many people from him as I can. It will perhaps stave off complete disaster until you can find a way to defeat him."
"Until I...what are you talking about?" My hands were so still in the water that I felt a minnow tickling them.
She leaned back on her heels. "Well, perhaps this deserves an explanation. See, as I said before, you are the only other person besides Herman and myself who has magic in this world. As far as I can tell, only people from our world have any ability with it. So you're the only one who can stop him."
"But that's...that's--"
"Ridiculous?"
"It's completely insane! If Umeru's fate rests with me, then it's doomed."
"Serena, you are powerful. Even I'm not quite sure how powerful yet. If anyone has a chance against my brother, you do."
"But I don't know anything! I didn't even know that I could use magic until a few hours ago."
"It can't be helped, but I will teach you all I can. And there is another possibility..." she paused. "How much do you know of the Kojin and the Princess?"
"Just what Mamoru told me. Something about the Kojin going insane because the Princess rejected him."
"It's the common tale, but unfortunately that's only half the story. There is another, much larger, reason why Herman wants Minako, one that has nothing to do with physical desire. He wants her power."
"What power?"
"Minako...well, she has no power on her own, but in the hands of someone like my brother, she could be devastating. If he ever finds her, the whole planet might be infected with this plague, not just this country."
"I don't understand. I thought you said no one from this world is capable of magic."
"Well," she said, "they're not. Not in the classical sense, at least. Herman and I have long suspected that there is an indigenous power in Umeru, but we have had little information other than legends. There are tales of people, the Aranu and the Kanare, who have a special ability with a type of earth-power. The kind of magic you and I possess, Serena, relies entirely on our own energy. That's why it's so exhausting to cast a powerful spell. The Aranu are a kind of...amplifier. They have no innate ability, but they increase the power of the Kanare. Simply casting magic in their presence enhances its power, and using a willing Aranu is even more powerful. I imagine that before Herman and I came, the rare few who could use this kind of power were a benign force. The earth-magic of the Kanare is not very destructive--it uses the earth and it gives back. Once--oh, almost fifty years ago--I found a Kanare. I discovered her by accident; I happened to be riding past a village one day when I noticed several cherry blossoms budding nearly a month early. The Aranu were only meant to augment that kind of power, but Herman learned that they didn't always have to augment a Kanare, that they could, in fact, amplify one of us even more. Don't you understand, Serena? He realized that an Aranu could make him more powerful than anyone else alive."
I pulled the sheets on to the stream bank and stared at her. "So you mean...you mean the real reason he wants the princess is because she's an Aranu?"
Petunia nodded. "I wish I had realized it sooner. I should have known, I suppose, but Aranu are nearly impossible to detect. Even Herman discovered it by accident. I gather she stumbled upon him while he was casting a spell and her presence resonated with it."
"So he tried to find some way to get her," I said, "and when he couldn't, he tried to hold the whole population of Umeru hostage just to get her back...for what? What does all that power give him?"
She shook her head. "I don't think that's ever been the point with Herman. He just wants power, never mind what for. I imagine that he'll use it to take over this country. He's already started, after all. He might even have designs on this entire world."
"But," I said, "he'll never get her, right? You hid the Princess from him."
"There's only so long she can remain hidden, Serena. Even now he is banging relentlessly at my defenses, trying to find a hint. Mamoru has to have time to recover, of course, but I don't know how much longer I can hold out."
"If she has so much power, why don't you let me use it? At least then I'd have a chance."
Petunia shook her head. "Serena...I've had a taste of it. I had to use it to make barriers strong enough to keep Herman out for even this long, but it's dangerous. Too dangerous for me to use and certainly too dangerous for you. It's too addictive to use safely."
"And Herman?"
"You must stop him before he can find the Princess."
"Stop him?" I whirled to face her. "How am I supposed to do that? What hope can you give me?"
"The seventh moon," she said. "You have a chance if you can harness the power of the seventh moon."
The rest of that day she taught me the names and function of every strange medicine in her chest. Mamoru needed fresh bandages every day for at least a week. In a strange way that was half instruction, half mutual concentration, I figured out how to hold his wound together, and keep the spell active in the back of my mind. This meant I had to live with the constant, faint smell of chocolate--my trace-scent, as it turned out, just like Petunia's honeysuckle and Herman's peppermint.
"I'll try to come back in two or three days," she said over dinner that night. Meals apparently appeared on the table at appropriate intervals, and vanished when finished. According to Petunia, she had befriended a band of gomi demons. You couldn't see them, and I wasn't too inclined to ask her where they bought their groceries. She warned me not to feed Mamoru any solid food until he seemed noticeably stronger, and she had told the demons precisely what to prepare him. Mamoru was still asleep, as he had been virtually all day.
"Petunia," I said, pushing the food around on my plate, "what did you mean by the seventh moon?"
"It's basically a legend. Or, at least, I had thought it was a legend until I discovered the Kanare girl. The power of the Aranu and Kanare is intimately tied with the cycles of the moons here. Two moons, no magic; no moon, high magic; full serpent moon, dark magic. The list goes on. The seventh moon is the dark moon, and according to the legends, it's the most powerful. Of course, no one in the past thousand years at least has managed to use it."
"Why not?"
Petunia leaned back in her chair. "As far as I can tell, the seventh moon acts differently on magic than the other six. The Kanare girl once told me that she always knew when the seventh moon was in ascension because she couldn't feel its pull. The other moons directly affected her power, she said. But the seventh moon...it's power might only be available to someone with the wherewithal and the drive affect it."
Petunia reached across the table and pulled the amulet out from underneath the neck of my kimono. She stared at it with an almost tender expression on her face, gently fingering the embossed circles.
"The six outer circles," she said after a few minutes, "those represent the six visible moons. The inner circle...the one without a picture inside, that's the seventh. I wish I knew why Mamoru's mother made this...why he thinks it's so important."
She released the amulet and I sat back in my chair. Her expression was lost, somehow.
"It took me a long time to accept the seventh moon's existence," she said, "but I suspect that Herman has been recording data about the moons for far longer, as long as a century ago. With the seventh moon's power, Serena, you could be invincible."
"If you and Herman both haven't managed to find out how over the past century, how can you expect me to?"
"Well, I'm afraid that Herman is far closer to unlocking its secrets than I. Herman keeps journals, he has since he was a child. Of course, he can't carry all of his old journals around with him, so he left some back in our world, sure that no one there would have any use for them. I'm almost sure that he has written what he knows in some of these journals. If we can see the information Herman has gathered, we may be able to understand it."
"Do you know where these journals are?"
She winced. "Well, vaguely," she said. "I am positive that he donated them to a library in DC"
I stared at her. "Why on earth would he do that?"
To my surprise, she blushed and stared at the floor. "Well...at the time, I was banned from every library in the city. He didn't want me getting to them."
"Banned...from a library? What did you do, burn the books?"
She laughed a little too nervously and waved her hand. "Oh, none of that matters now. The important thing is that you have to find his journals. Then you have a chance."
I snorted. "You mean that I may at least kill him as he kills me."
She looked at me seriously. "Perhaps. You can still back out of this, you know."
The metallic smell of Mamoru's blood still hung heavy in my nostrils and the stream had run red this morning. "I'm not backing out of anything," I said.
She smiled.
Petunia and I sat on the porch outside, sipping red wine. I looked at the apple trees, whose boughs were heavy and low to the ground with fruit.
"What is this place?" I asked.
"A little pocket of space I created for myself. The answer to the riddle."
"A house with no doors and a star in the middle? I don't understand."
She sighed. "Really? I thought I had made it too easy, actually. It's an apple, of course."
"An apple?"
"If you cut an apple open diagonally, it's seeds form a star."
I laughed. "I'm glad you came anyway. I would never have guessed that."
Petunia smiled and we continued to watch the fiery sun go down behind the trees. When it had nearly descended she put down her glass and stretched till her joints cracked.
"Well," she said, yawning, "I suppose we need to take the Witches Oath. It'll make things safer for the both of us, and you can call me if you're in any trouble."
"What's a Witches Oath?"
"The same kind of bond that Herman and I share involuntarily you and I can create with the oath. Magically, at least, we become sisters, with an intimate knowledge of each other's power."
My natural reaction was to be wary, but I saw the need for such a drastic step.
"What do we have to do?"
It was eerily dark outside by the time she finished the preparations, the only light given by the faint stars. Petunia had taken a knife wrapped in blue silk and a heavy earthenware bowl from the cottage and carried it outside to the middle of the clearing. I felt my skin tingle with the aura of magic. My heart pounded faster, as if it were pushing something other than blood throughout my body. She laid the bowl on the ground and removed the cloth from the knife. The honed, slightly curved blade glinted, and I swallowed. Her violet eyes met mine.
"Are you ready for this, Serena?"
"Yes," I said calmly, although I certainly didn't feel that way.
"We each cut one of our wrists, and let the blood drip into the bowl for a full minute, all the while drawing power. And when the minute is up, we join our wrists together. You must not speak or utter a single sound from the time I utter the invocation to the time I close the conduit."
I eyed the blade warily, but nodded. She knelt in front of the bowl and after a moment's hesitation I knelt opposite her.
"Ekianeru," she said, and with those words I felt a strange, trance like state of power settle upon me. Petunia reached for the knife and in one quick, violent motion, slit her left wrist. With the same hand, she handed me the blade. My left hand did not shake as I took the knife and ran it deeply across my right wrist. Perhaps I had not fully expected the sharp stinging, but I did not flinch or cry out. I held my dripping wrist over the bowl, trying to ignore the way my blood pulsed. I replaced the knife next to the bowl. True to her instructions, I drew power into myself. Unsure of how much I needed, I filled myself to capacity, sucking in magic even after I thought I would burst. After a minute that lasted far too long Petunia lifted her hand and I lifted mine. We locked eyes seconds before we locked wrists, and then I exploded.
This was pain. There was so much magic flowing between us that I could barely keep my mouth closed around it. I did, though. As I suffered, my magic touched her magic, and gradually, they accepted each other. I found myself learning everything about how she cast spells, what her least favorites were, what she was particularly proud of, when she had first used it, and I could feel her learning the same. And then it was over. The only physical indication I had was that the pain had stopped, but it went deeper than that. Petunia realized it too.
"Ekianeru," she said, in a voice far weaker, and we separated. I looked at my wrist, expecting to see a gaping wound, but instead I only saw long ridged scar. And although the bowl had been more than half full with our blood, none remained.
She left soon after that. Feeling exhausted, and realizing that the sheets for the other bed were still drying outside, I grabbed a spare blanket, and spread it out on the floor beside Mamoru's bed. Despite my uncomfortable position, I fell asleep almost immediately.
I awoke to the sound of the kitchen gomi putting breakfast on the table. It smelled like pancakes and I would have investigated further, but as I stood up I realized that I would have to take care of my appearance first. My kimono and obi were liberally splattered with blood and dirt.
Mamoru was still deep asleep, so I took another bar of soap from the cupboard and walked to the stream. The prospect of a bath filled me with delight. I divested myself of my bloody clothes and jumped in the stream. In the middle it was waist-high, and surprisingly warm. I paddled aimlessly in the water for a while, imagining that I was some sort of sea nymph, with my hair floating around me like a golden cloud. It had always been long, of course, but loose and wet my hair now came down to the middle of my thighs. As a child I had been under the impression that long hair would make me irresistible to guys. I had since been disabused of that notion, but my discovery still made me happy.
I swam a few laps up and down the stream and then took the soap from the embankment. After I was done with my body, I pulled my kimono into the stream with me and tried to gently scrub away the blood. I scrubbed longer than strictly necessary, suddenly nervous about facing Mamoru. After every trace of blood was gone I climbed out of the stream reluctantly. I squeezed the excess water from my hair before I put on the jiban, but despite my efforts, it clung wetly to my body. There was nothing else for me to wear, though, so I supposed Mamoru was just going to get an eyeful. Maybe he'll be asleep, I hoped as I draped the wet kimono, under kimono and obi over the porch railing.
His gaze arrested me in the doorway. I felt completely exposed, emotionally as well as physically. My saliva dried in my mouth, and my lips remained parted as if they had been painted with lacquer. Why was my heart pounding like this over a stupid look?
"I wondered where you went," he said in a weak voice, and I tried to keep myself from running away or breaking down on the floor. I couldn't stand it; seeing him like this was too painful. I forced myself past it. I was useless to him in such a state.
With a strained smile, I walked to the bed. My legs felt like they could barely support me. I was painfully aware of how my breasts clung to the wet shift.
"Just outside," I finally managed to say. I noted that the bandage needed changing again, and wondered how much blood loss he could handle.
"Where are we?" he asked, "What happened?"
I sighed and sat down next to him. "Life, Mamoru," I said, "is very, very strange. I cannot begin to understand it. But, I try, at any rate."
He raised his eyebrows a little, and I could have sung for joy. Oh, how I loved those eyebrows! I loved the way he made fun of me, I loved everything about him, especially because it meant that he would recover.
"Serena? Why are you smiling?"
I blushed and looked away. As a distraction, I told him everything that Petunia had related the night before.
"So, you mean that the Lady can't help us?" he said when I finished. I nodded nervously. "And she wants you to somehow use the seventh moon to fight the Kojin, because you have...magic?" he continued, and I nodded again. "I can't say that I didn't suspect something," he said after a moment.
"So, it's all right with you?" I asked.
This time he did meet my eyes, and gave me a lopsided smile. "We're partners in all this, remember? Of course I'll help you, once...once..." he looked away again. "I almost died, didn't I?" he said, finally.
It was all I could do to nod. "Petunia said you'll be much better in a month or so...it's all the time that she can really give us."
"Thank you," he said, "I wish that I hadn't put you through that." I looked away and stood up quickly, making my way to the kitchen to mix some of Petunia's herbs. Although he hadn't said anything, I knew that he was still in a great deal of pain. In the corner of my eye, I saw him grimace when he thought I wasn't looking. I deliberately blocked his view of my hands--I could not seem to stop them from shaking. Though I couldn't deny that I was in love with him, I was overwhelmed with my stupidity. I knew perfectly well that he didn't love me. Even that kiss was one incident in a sea of insults and contempt. After all, the first word out of his mouth after that night of hell had been honeybee. Hardly the gesture of a man in love.
I really shouldn't care, I thought as I furiously diced a little of the root that Petunia had told would help with his pain. I hated myself for loving him and I hated him for making me. So why was I crying? I felt his eyes on my back.
I diced even more furiously and the sharp knife missed the root entirely and sliced deeply into my finger. I cursed.
"Serena? Are you all--"
"No!" Immediately I regretted my words. After all, it wasn't his fault that I had fallen in love with him. It wouldn't be right to blame him under any circumstance, but especially not now.
"Well, aren't we moody today, Dumpling Head?"
I turned around slowly, aware of the stricken expression on my face but unable to do anything about it.
"I'm sorry...I'm just not used to this." What an understatement. His wide eyes made me feel like I was falling into a deep, inescapable well.
"You cut your hand," he said.
I looked at the offending finger curiously, as if it were not a part of my body. "The knife slipped, that's all," I said. A drop of blood fell to the floor and our gazes locked. The dark blue of his eyes seared mine, searching, and after a terrified moment I looked away. Unsure of what else to do, I finished preparing the root and gave him the draught silently. He said nothing, but I knew that he wanted to. Before he had the opportunity, I fled the cabin, mumbling something about my kimono.
My entire body tingled, but how I wished for simple numbness.
On the third day Petunia had still not returned, although I wished she would if only for the distraction. Mamoru consumed my thoughts, but not in the fashion you would expect from a girl in love. I was completely preoccupied with avoiding him. But as his strength returned, that became increasingly difficult.
That morning I planned to leave the cabin after breakfast, but something in Mamoru's direct gaze made me suspect it would be harder this time. As I headed for the door, his voice stopped me in mid-step, and I froze, rigid and almost trembling.
"Why are you avoiding me?"
I turned around slowly, trying to look casual and failing. "Avoiding you?" I said with a false smile. "Why would I do that?"
He probably would have crossed his arms, but the wound on his shoulder prevented that. Instead, he settled for a raised eyebrow. "I don't know," he said, "why don't you tell me?"
"Is it so improbable that a girl would not want to spend every waking moment in your presence? Do you really think that you are so irresistible?" I said, taking refuge, as I had done so many times before, in insults.
He abruptly turned his face away from me, but not before I saw his stark grimace of pain. Completely forgetting our argument, I ran to him. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that he was hurt, and no matter how fast of healer he may be, it took some time to recover from a wound like his. Guilt gnawed at me, but I ignored it.
Without thinking, I put my hands on his bandaged midsection and closed my eyes. Petunia had taught me this spell, although she had warned me not to use it too often. It acted like an anesthesia, completely numbing whatever area I directed the magic towards. After a moment I felt him relax and the ever-present smell of chocolate grew much stronger. When I opened my eyes, I stared at him, feeling the almost-familiar sensation of vertigo. I sat down abruptly on a chair that I placed beside his bed earlier.
"What did you..." he said softly.
"It's a spell Petunia taught me." I looked at him and thought of all the times he must have gone through this alone while I ran away. Of course his pride had prevented him from calling for help, so he must have mastered the pain by himself, wondering why I had abandoned him.
"I'm sorry," we said simultaneously. I looked at him in surprise. What did he have to be sorry for?
"I mean," he said, "I know this must be hard on you. I'm just being insensitive...I suppose I'm just not used to being this helpless."
I could hardly speak past the catch in my throat. "It's not...I mean, don't worry about it. I promised myself, when you didn't die that night...it's the least I can do."
He looked at me for a moment, but then broke contact abruptly. I wondered what he would say; I had come so close to revealing everything. But my moment of fear passed as he smiled slowly, almost sadly.
"Do you know," he said, "I know almost nothing about you?"
"What?"
"I mean, I know that you can't eat without spilling half of it on yourself, and you have a habit of squealing when you get excited, but what do I know about your life?"
"You want to know about my life?" I said. "It's not very interesting..."
"Well, you know about mine. Don't you think it's only fair? Besides, it's not like we're in a hurry."
I sighed, but settled back in the chair. Maybe I did want to spend some time with him, after all."So, what do you want to know?" I asked.
He smiled. "Everything."
I laughed a little. "Well, despite what you may think, my childhood wasn't nearly as interesting as your own. I'm sure it won't even take an hour."
"Then give me an entertaining hour, my dear."
"All right," I said, "this happened one Halloween when I was sixteen."
"Halloween?"
"Oh, sorry. It's a holiday from my world...people dress up in costumes and go door to door scaring goodies from the neighbors."
Mamoru looked incredulous. "No wonder you're so strange."
"That's not the half of it. Anyway, on Halloween, people usually buy pumpkins and carve faces in them. Pumpkins are...a large variety of squash," I said before he could ask the question. "So, I had been pining away for a pumpkin for an entire week. It was really crazy, I admit, how obsessed I was with the thing. I just had to have a pumpkin. So on Halloween, I dragged my little brother out of the house with me and walked all the way to our local garden store. Except, by that time, everyone else had bought all of the pumpkins. I went out back, and saw that they had about two pumpkins left. One was really small and half rotten, and the other was massive. The only reason no one had bought it was because it was too expensive. Now, my family didn't have a lot of money, but I couldn't stop thinking about that pumpkin. And the more I looked, the more I wanted it. It was huge, and beautiful. I fell in love with that pumpkin. I didn't care that my family couldn't afford it. So, in that crazy moment of folly, I used my mom's credit card...I mean, I used her money to buy the pumpkin. I'll never forget when she came home, and saw my massive, beautiful pumpkin sitting on the front porch. She turned to my brother and me and asked, rather calmly I suppose, how much the pumpkin had cost. And I told her. And she nodded, and looked at me, and said 'Well, Serena, I hope you like pumpkin as much as you say you do, because you're going to be eating it for a long time.' I ate pumpkin every day for three months! And even then I didn't finish it...my parents eventually took pity on me. Well, that and the fact that my complexion was turning a tad orange. It's strange. You'd think that an experience like that would make me hate pumpkins forever, but...I've always wanted to get another one like that. I think I just have a penchant for unhealthy fixations."
"That was...fascinating," he said after a moment.
I looked up at his astounded expression and smiled. "I know, you think I'm crazy. Everyone does, even my own parents. Half the time I really did believe the stuff I read about in my novels. I guess I was right, after all. I came here, somehow. I met you." I stared at a point beside his face, unwilling to meet his eyes. "You probably wish I'd stayed at home, though. I'm sorry...I know I haven't exactly been an asset on our journey. I'm just a little too inept to be of use to anyone."
"Serena," he said, "I know I am not as polite as I should be, but never doubt...how much I appreciate you."
I looked away from him, blinking furiously. I hated it when he was so sweet. I clenched my fists tightly, scrunching my face to hold back the inevitable tears. My emotions were so hopelessly jumbled that I barely knew what to think. I was only sure that every time he spoke, he undid me. Despite my efforts, tears seeped out of my lids, leaving salty tracks on my cheeks.
He touched my hand and I inadvertently met his eyes. My breath stopped. "What is it? Did I say something?"
"No," I said, voice shaking. "No," I repeated, much louder this time and wrenched my hand away from him. At this point, anger was the only emotion I could trust. I stood up, knocking the chair over in the process.
"How...how can you possibly say that you...appreciate me?" I said. "No matter what else I may be, Mamoru, I'm not stupid. I know...I know...it was my fault. What happened was my fault."
"What are you--" There was a pained expression on his face.
"Just tell me, Mamoru. How did it...how did you get hurt?"
I didn't want to ask the question; I don't know why I did. Perhaps it was a morbid masochistic desire--I was already almost positive that I knew what had happened. But, once said, I couldn't take it back. After a moment, I saw understanding dawn on his face.
"There's no point, Serena. Don't make me..."
"Just say it!" I shouted. He dropped his gaze. "Tell me what happened. Tell me how much you appreciate me." My voice held anger I didn't know I possessed and pain I didn't suspect I could feel.
"I don't want to do this, Serena. I never would have told you if you hadn't forced me--remember that." He closed his eyes briefly. "I knew I didn't have much hope of escape and I doubted you would leave when I told you to. I know how stubborn you are. I just hoped that you would get yourself someplace safe. Even after I engaged, I had to wonder where you were."
"So, you mean that you were distracted," I said, with as close an approximation of coldness as I could manage.
"No, I didn't say that," he began to protest, but then sighed in defeat. "Perhaps a little. It took me seconds to realize that my death was a foregone conclusion. I could only hold out as long as possible, and pray that you would get away safely. I'm not quite sure when this happened, I didn't have a clear sense of time, but I heard this bloodcurdling scream, and I saw you leaping out of this tree. I was surprised, and I guess that made me careless. I took my eyes off my opponent. He...he wasn't so distracted, apparently. That's how it happened." His hands were clenched, his countenance frustrated and angry. I thought of and discarded a hundred things to say as I stood there. My anger had drained away, leaving only the bitterest pain. I suppose I had hoped that it wasn't true.
I sprinted outside, running blindly through the trees to the stream. Once there, I knelt in muddy embankment, hands clenched over my stomach. Tears coursing down my face, I bent over the stream and proceeded to violently purge my stomach, wishing I could as easily purge my guilt.
The thing most commonly forgotten about clichés is that they have their foundation in bare fact. While I usually strive for original thinking, there are things that will never be said better than they were the first time around, and this is a prime example: when it rains, it pours. Too bad, as my mother would say, that I always forgot my umbrella. I fell asleep by the stream, and by the time I awoke, the sun was already setting. I walked slowly back to the cabin, wondering if I should apologize to Mamoru.
When I walked inside I found him asleep. His face was unusually flushed but I dismissed it, relieved just to have avoided confrontation. I pulled up a chair to the kitchen table and plopped down. As I sat there, I saw dinner appear before me, but I wasn't very hungry. Even the sight of Mamoru's hated baby food didn't make me smile. Sighing, I turned to face him and wondered why he hadn't awakened yet. I stood up and went to the bed. His face, I saw, was covered in sweat, but he was shivering. Suddenly frightened, I put my hand on his forehead. He was burning with a fever. Petunia had said that the thing we needed to watch out for most during the first week was infection. It would, of course, have to happen after our huge fight. Frantically, I ran to the cupboard where Petunia kept her medicines and grabbed two small jars. As gently as I could, I took off his bandages. When I forced myself to look at the wound, though, I breathed a sigh of relief. While I was by no means an expert, it did not look infected. That meant that the fever must have stemmed from a more benign source. Even so, I conscientiously cleaned the wound and re-bandaged it. He was still asleep when I finished.
"Oh, Mamoru, what can I do?" I asked. He didn't even stir.
I needed Petunia--that much was clear. I gently probed our bond, but I sensed her ignoring me, so I tugged more insistently. Her response was so surprising that I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet and landing on my butt.
"Yes?" I heard her unmistakable voice snap, perfectly clear inside of my head. How did she always catch me off guard like this, anyway?
"I...need help," I said aloud, wondering if she could hear me.
"Obviously, my dear. Tell me, have you and Mamoru gotten anywhere yet?"
"Gotten anywhere? That's none of your business."
"All right, no need to be rude. You two have been so dreadfully slow about it."
I chose to ignore the comment. "Listen, Mamoru has high fever and I don't know what to do. It's not an infection...at least I don't think so."
"I don't suppose you know any herb lore?"
"No, nothing."
"Children really are getting such a lacking education these days." She clucked. "Then, there aren't many options. How strong is he, you think?"
"Much better than at first. He's a fast healer."
"Magic, then. You have to understand that the healing arts are...dangerous. Some even classify them under the dark arts. If Mamoru weren't so weak, he would have to sit out this fever on his own. Unfortunately, doing that may kill him. So, as a healer, all you can do is transfer sickness or pain from one to another. You can mitigate the effects, but not remove them. Do you understand?"
"So... you mean that the only way to heal Mamoru is to take his fever myself?""Yes, exactly. I have to warn you, though. In transfers like these, the receiver often bears the brunt of it. But, Serena, you must be very careful not to heal either of his wounds. It's a completely different realm of healing, and if you do so, you may kill yourself. Not to mention it would be the equivalent of lighting signal flares for Herman."
"How can I tell the difference?"
"You shouldn't have any trouble distinguishing the two. I'm telling you this because I know you'll want to heal him completely."
"Show me the spell," I said.
In the same way that she had taught me before, I felt what I had to do rather than formally learning it.
"The earliest I can come is in about a week," she said after we finished. "Keep me posted." And with that her presence vanished resolutely from my mind. I opened my eyes, and saw that Mamoru still had not awakened. I was terrified of what could go wrong with the spell, but I had to try. The news that I could practice magic hadn't exactly been a surprise to me--even back on my world I had wondered. But I was still an amateur, and no one wanted the doctor's assistant performing the operation. Yet, perhaps doing this would relieve me of some of my guilt.
I closed my eyes and placed my hands gently on his torso. Then I entered his body.
It was in interesting process, neither "Fantastic Voyage," nor a CAT scan. I existed within him. I did not have a clear vision of his internal organs, but I could sense how they worked together, how the system functioned. I had a brief glimpse of the beauty of a human body as a whole, so it was easy to tell what was wrong. Petunia was right; I could easily tell the difference between his fever and his wound. The fever seemed to cover everything with a smoky gray haze. His wound was...just that, an awful red gash that tinged everything with bright purple tendrils of pain. It took repeated reminders for me to ignore that. Inside him, it seemed so easy to just take care of everything, but Petunia's warning still rang clear inside of my head and I refrained.
Instead, I sucked every speck of the gray dust into myself. There was far more than I had expected, and I saw that if it had remained, Mamoru would have died. I burned as it went in, existing in a state very near agony. I forced myself past the pain as I had so many times before. I released him as soon as I finished, dangerously close to passing out. As I opened my eyes slowly, I fell to my knees and held my pounding head in my hands. My vision was white around the edges, everything looked surreal. I glanced up at Mamoru through the haze. He was breathing more easily now and the unnatural color had left his face. Satisfied that he would be okay, I dragged myself to the other bed. I passed out almost as soon as I crawled under the covers.
I awoke sometime in the middle of the night, shivering uncontrollably although I felt sweat beading on my forehead. I wanted nothing more than to crawl deeper under the covers and pass out again, but instead I opened my eyes. In the moonlight I saw that Mamoru was awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. At least he's all right, I thought, and fell asleep again.
I have had my fair share of illnesses in my life. I even had my appendix removed in an emergency surgery the day before my prom. My period has never been a barrel of laughs either. But I never, during all that time, felt worse than I did that morning. My throat was so sore that I practically couldn't swallow. My head wasn't stuffed with tissue paper, it was stuffed with liquid cement. My ears pounded, my back ached, my stomach clenched and I couldn't have been colder walking naked in Antarctica. Despite this I sat up, and promptly fell back down again, overcome with dizziness and nausea. If only I had asked Petunia how I was supposed to take care of Mamoru in this state.
"I'm sorry Mamoru," I croaked. "I'll be up...in a second." My teeth chattered around the words, and I gripped my knees in a desperate bid for warmth.
"It's okay, one of the gomi was helping me out. She said her name is Etsuko."
"Etsuko?" With magnificent effort I looked across the cabin, and saw that Mamoru had indeed befriended a kitchen demon. It was only three feet tall but slender, vaguely shaped like a human but with features so pale they seemed translucent. I wondered why she had revealed herself to Mamoru.
"She says you're really sick. Are you?" Mamoru asked.
I looked at him with an expression as close to sarcasm as I could manage. "What do you think?" I said, my voice grating harshly. The effect was ruined, however, by a loud series of sneezes.
"You sure look sick," he said, and his voice was gratifyingly worried. "Are you going to be all right? It's funny, I was feeling sick yesterday, but now I feel fine."
"Imagine that," I muttered.
"She says you healed me," Mamoru said after a moment.
"How are you talking to her, anyway?" I asked.
He smiled mysteriously. "I have my ways."
I grunted. "Fine. You guys can fart at each other for all I care. Right now, I have every intention of--" I stopped abruptly, acutely aware of my stomach. Quickly, I threw off the covers and fell onto the floor. Half crawling, I made it to the door and vomited violently for the second time in two days.
"I thought I gave up drinking," I croaked half an hour later, preparing for another dry heave. After a few minutes of peace, I began to believe that I was finally finished. Shaking in exhaustion and cold, I stumbled back inside, trying to ignore Mamoru's concerned presence. I only made it about halfway to the bed, collapsing in the middle of the floor. I hadn't passed out, I was simply too exhausted to move.
"Serena!"
"No," I said to the floor. "I'm okay...hold on." I tried to sit up slowly, but even that effort failed. I felt something poke my shoulder, and I turned my head, only to find myself disturbingly close to Etsuko's translucent, slanted gray-blue eyes. Around me, the other gomi materialized. Unceremoniously they picked me up; for such thin, short creatures, they had a remarkable strength. They carried me gently to the bed, and pulled the covers back over my shaking form.
"Etsuko says she will take care of you," Mamoru said as I closed my eyes.
I smiled. "You guys really are farting at each other." It was the last thing I said for a while.
I awoke at indeterminate times, aroused by one gomi or another. They made me drink water, which I threw up the first few times, but eventually it stayed down. They also gave me some concoction that cleared my head and reduced my fever. At first I asked about Mamoru, but eventually I understood that Etsuko and the others were taking care of both of us. The first day after the fever broke, I awoke to the sun beating down upon my eyelids. I no longer felt terrible, but I still felt incredibly weak. I sat up, and was pleased to notice that my joints had stopped aching. I smiled, looked across to Mamoru's bed, and almost screamed out loud when I saw that he wasn't there. I tried to stand, but my legs refused to support me and I fell back down on the bed.
"Be careful, your fever just broke this morning," said a voice suspiciously like Mamoru's.
I swiveled my head, and saw him sitting in a chair by the kitchen table. "Don't scare me like that! How did you get there, anyway?"
"You've been semi-conscious for the past four days, Serena. I'm a fast healer."
Now that I looked, he really did seem much better. Then the real import of what he had just said sunk in. "I've been out for four days?"
He winced. "Yeah, it was pretty bad for a while. You should thank Etsuko."
"Who would've thought."
"Anyway, you should get some rest."
"I've been sleeping for four days! Shouldn't that be enough?"
"If you had seen yourself, maybe you wouldn't think so," he said quietly.
I really must have scared him, I thought in surprise. Then my stomach let out a growl even Mamoru could hear.
"Hmm..." I said. "I'll go back to sleep after I eat, okay?" I stood up, and this time I was a little steadier on my feet. I wobbled to the kitchen table and collapsed in a chair, taking a second to catch my breath. As I looked at the table, breakfast food of every sort appeared, including, against all probability, a tall stack of pancakes with what looked to be genuine maple syrup.
"What is this stuff?" Mamoru asked.
I shook my head. "Where does Petunia come up with it, anyway? It's food from my world." I picked up the knife and fork and dug into the pancakes, syrup dripping down my chin.
Mamoru chuckled softly. "Well, at least I know you don't eat any better on your world than mine."
I smiled and flicked some syrup at him.
"Seriously, though, Serena," he said, and I turned to him. I wished that he wouldn't look like that; I was tired of serious conversations.
"I have to thank you for what you did. It was...hard, knowing that I was responsible for making you that sick."
There was a moment when I did not know how to react, when I could have done a number of things, none of which would eased the tension between us. Instead, I smiled.
"Well, then, why don't we call it even? I don't feel guilty about the fight, and you don't feel guilty about making me sick. I...I think it's safe to say that we both had our reasons."
He smiled. "I suppose so."
"Now, how about a pancake?"
So, we existed in the previously unknown state of amicable sociability. Mamoru steadily improved, and with the coerced help of the gomi demons-- they were reluctant to help if I could-- I took care of him. We talked, and joked, and this time I managed to tell him strange stories of my childhood without degenerating into argument. He, in turn, told me of how he learned to fight at a temple with military monks and the years he spent wandering the country as a masterless swordsman, or ronin.
After I regained my strength, I began to catch an acute case of cabin fever. After all of the traveling I had done for the past few months, staying in the same place all day made me want to scream. So, I began to go outside every morning and practice Tae Kwon Do. I had not practiced in so long that I wondered if I had forgotten everything, but an intense two-hour session proved that I was not totally devoid of talent. One day, perhaps three weeks after our arrival in Petunia's apple-grove idyll, I was perpetrating a series of particularly ferocious moves against an invisible assailant. In order to have some freedom of movement, I'd taken to wearing simply my shift and a pair of Mamoru's pants tied around my waist with a string. I was in the middle of a flying reverse kick when I heard his voice, improbably, from the doorway.
"You know, you really ought to extend your leg more, and you're kicking with the wrong part of the foot." I was so surprised that I lost my balance, and landed firmly on my butt, rather than my feet.
"Mamoru!" I said. "What are you doing out here?" He was holding onto the doorframe, and I could only imagine the effort it had taken him to make it this far.
"I wanted to see what you were doing."
He didn't say it, but I realized that he must have been experiencing cabin fever far more acute than my own. After all, he still couldn't move around without help. Taking pity on him, I stood up and walked to the door. I put his arm over my shoulder, and helped him down the porch stairs to a shady tree on the edge of the clearing. It took some effort, but eventually he managed to sit down in a relatively comfortable position, his back against the tree.
"Hope you're happy," I said, wiping the sweat off of my forehead.
I went back to my faceless opponent. It was more difficult this time, however, because Mamoru entertained himself by correcting me and making snide comments about my technique. When self consciousness made me trip on a simple flying reverse for the third time, I gave up.
"How do you know all of this, anyway?" I said, sitting in front of him.
He smirked. "I've studied under some of the most brilliant fighting masters in Umeru."
"Well, it's good to know you're modest."
"Actually, Serena, I'm pretty impressed. I never would have suspected a girl as clumsy as you had it in her."
"I'll take that as a compliment, Mamo-chan." I hadn't had a chance to use the term he so hated in a while.
"As you should, of course. What possible reason would I have to make fun of you?"
And as is characteristic of the mature person that I am, I stuck my tongue out at him.
An often forgotten corollary to "when it rains, it pours," is "after a good pouring, you get some remarkably pretty flowers."
Mamoru recovered quickly. His shoulder had healed after four weeks, and he could walk unassisted. He had to be very careful, and he would always have a scar, but compared to our first night here, we were living in paradise. And so I suppose that I was acutely aware of its transience. This had to end very soon; no matter how happy we were here, the events that we had left behind on Umeru were still waiting for us. I figured that we at least had a week left--Mamoru still needed a little more time to recover.
One morning, something that looked like a cigar box appeared on the table along with breakfast.
"What is that?" I asked with my mouth full. Mamoru silently opened the box and fingered its contents.
"How did Etsuko know..." he said softly.
"How did she know what?" I asked. Mamoru didn't even look like he had heard me. After a dazed minute he shook his head, then looked up and smiled apologetically.
"You want to go outside?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I have to wash clothes." I hated doing such menial chores, but my period had just ended and the rest of the laundry could be put off no longer.
"Why can't Etsuko and the others do it?"
I frowned. "Although you persist in not informing me how you speak to them, I don't think they can go further than a few feet from the house. Whenever I finish I'll sit outside with you."
He nodded, and looked eagerly at the strange box. "So what is it?" I asked again.
He smiled. "You'll see." He stood up slowly with the box and walked outside. Muttering about men in general and Mamoru in particular, I gathered the laundry and went out back.
I returned to the cabin three hours later, arms aching, fingers pruned and half soaked. After I hung everything out to dry on the balcony, I collapsed in front of Mamoru. He had only glanced at me as I staggered into the clearing, and let out half a muttered word of greeting. It appeared that the box contained a paint set and an array of brushes. In his lap Mamoru had one large piece of parchment, placed on a wooden board for support. He was working intently, I could see, dipping his brush into the various colors and cleaning them in a bowl of water.
"What are you doing?" I asked. Beside him were several discarded scraps of parchment, torn into shreds.
"Painting," he said.
I suppose there was nothing else he could be doing, but it shocked me. Painting required a romantic soul, and however much I loved Mamoru, I knew that he had buried his deeply.
"What are you painting?"
He glanced at me. "Why are you so curious? You'll see when I finish it." He began painting again, but within seconds started to curse. "It's been too long since I last did this," he said, ripping up yet another piece and adding it to the pile.
He has fallen away from that beauty, I thought, suddenly. Who said that? I felt as though I had an itch in my head that no amount of scratching could dislodge. I knew it was important, though. The last time this happened, I ended up naked in the middle of a city.
I sat next to him for the next few hours, but I'm not sure he ever realized I was there. When it started growing dark I forced him to go back inside. I could tell that his side was beginning to hurt from sitting in that position for so long.
The next few days continued like that. Mamoru would rush outside-- for the better light, he said-- and painted until it grew dark. Every morning he would take all the new sheets of parchment that appeared on the breakfast table, and by dinner they would all be in shreds. He would sit down dejectedly, and eat, vowing to get it right the next day. For my part, I suppressed my curiosity about his little project. Instead, I noticed how much more easily he moved. We would have to leave any day, now. I hadn't contacted Petunia in over a week in a vain effort to stave off the inevitable.
Mamoru was such an intense person; sometimes I wondered if those looks he gave me did indicate a deeper affection than friendship. But I was too afraid of my own feelings, let alone his, to delve too deeply. It was much easier to remain at a comfortable distance, no matter how much a part of me wanted his love.
The day before we left at first resembled every other day that week. I practiced Tae Kwon Do, blissfully unharassed because all of Mamoru's attention was focused on his painting. There was something unusual about him today, though. He seemed, if anything, more intense, and he had still not discarded the piece of parchment he started upon this morning. He worked constantly, only pausing to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. I had a feeling he only did that so it wouldn't drip into the painting. Eventually I gave up all pretense of practicing-- it wasn't really fun without the harassment anyway-- and sat in front of him. I knew from experience that he would not appreciate it if I interrupted him, but I was content to simply watch. I loved the way his brow furrowed in concentration, and the way he licked his lips when he decided what brush stroke to make next. I sat there for what must have been hours, memorizing his features, but he barely noticed me. Strangely enough, he did look at me quite frequently. But it was almost as though I were some painting myself, and he were cataloguing me feature by feature. When the sun began to dip below the horizon I wondered if I should tell him to stop. Yet, I had the curious sensation that what he was doing was too important to interrupt. Instead I stood on stiff legs and took one of the oil lamps inside the cabin to bring to him. He barely acknowledged the favor, but then, I hadn't expected him to. He worked perhaps two hours after that, and I sat with him, at times dozing off. The moment he was finished he put his brush down, leaned his head back on the tree and sighed as though the world had been lifted from his shoulders. I reached tentatively for the painting, and since he didn't stop me, I turned it around.
And received one of the greatest shocks of my life. It was a picture of me, dressed in my worn pink kimono, leaning against a gnarled apple tree, with one apple in my hand. I was laughing up at something, and the dappled light left patterns on my long, disheveled hair. The moment I looked at the painting I remembered what had been bothering me for the past several days. I recognized the painting, because I recognized the painter. The fifteen-year-old painter who Petunia had known so long ago. The one who was twenty-five now. The one who had not painted until this moment, who for some reason had painted me.
"I can't believe it," I whispered.
He sat up and smiled at me. "Do you like it?" he said softly, taking my hand and staring frankly into my eyes.
"I...I..." I could not form a coherent sentence. I was overcome with a number of things, not the least of which was how desperately I loved this man. What did this gaze mean, this almost carelessly placed hand of his?
In a smooth, almost practiced motion, he bent over me until his shining eyes hovered an inch above mine.
"Do you want this?" he asked, one arm wrapped around my body, gently stroking my hair with his other hand.
There are many methods of consent, not all of them verbal. Trembling uncontrollably, I put my hand gently behind his head and closed the gap between us. That was all the answer he needed. In the moment before our lips met I spared myself a moment's worry that he was not well enough to do this. Then we kissed. I melted into him, genuinely unaware of where my body ended and his began.
And then, it was so much more than that.
We lay naked, encircled in the other's arms, staring up at the night sky. The balmy night air seemed to encase us like the lightest of pillows and the crickets provided appropriate accompaniment to what was, at the time, the single greatest event of my life. Neither of us had uttered the dreaded words, but for that night at least I was confident in his love. He kissed my forehead gently, a gesture containing far more tenderness than erotic desire. I let my tears trickle into his chest, and I knew he felt them, but he didn't comment. I raised my hand to trace his scar slowly. It was still pink with new-grown skin, but already ridged.
"Is it ugly?" he asked quietly, and his breath tickled my ear.
"No," I said. "You're beautiful."
He paused for a moment, and the bright moons reflected in his strangely distant eyes.
"I watched your bright smile
Beneath the old apple tree
And felt my mind soar
Imagining you with me
Beneath silver lighted moons."
"Mamoru," I said softly. I intellectually appreciated the spontaneous waka even as my body tingled with emotion. I kissed him gently, and his lips trailed to my collarbone, eliciting a gasp.
The second time we kissed, gentleness vanished, replaced by something far more insistent.
We watched the dawn together, his strong arms wrapped gently around my stomach. I had to fight back tears as I watched the sun rise. I somehow knew that this day would change everything. The sun won the fight, like I had known it would. As if on cue, Mamoru disengaged himself gently.
"'Tis day, what though it be? Oh, wilt thou therefore rise from me?" I quoted softly.
"What?" he asked, retrieving his scattered clothes.
I stared at his butt and smiled. "Nothing," I said, standing. I dressed silently, and then walked over to Mamoru's painting. In the early morning light I was even more impressed with it than I had been last night. The painting in Petunia's foyer lacked its maturity and emotional depth. Mamoru walked behind me and put his hands gently on my shoulders.
"I had wondered if I could still do that. I haven't painted in such a long time."
"Since your mother?" I asked.
He started, and then relaxed. "Yes, I suppose so. You...can't paint when your entire life is an emotional void."
I wanted to hug him. Instead, I turned around and walked into the cabin. As soon as I stepped inside I knew that something was drastically wrong. Half of breakfast was on the table, but some of the dishes had been knocked over. Orange juice dripped from a glass into a puddle on the floor. Mamoru stood beside me in the doorway.
"Etsuko...the gomi are gone," he said.
"But, how could they have left? They're bound to this place. The only way they can leave is if someone releases..." I trailed off, feeling something I should have sensed long before. There was, ever so faintly, another presence of magic here. It was not my own or Petunia's, which meant it must be...
"Peppermint," Mamoru said softly. "I smell peppermint." I gripped his hand in something close to terror.
"Where is he, Serena?" Mamoru asked urgently.
I took a deep breath and tried to feel the presence again. "He's close. He's almost found this place...Petunia is confusing him. That's the only thing keeping him away."
"We have to leave."
"But how?"
"How did we get here?"
I paused, thinking. Mamoru was right, but where could we possibly go? Was there anyplace safe from the Kojin?
"Serena!" I heard Petunia's strained voice enter my head with such force that I fell against Mamoru. "You have to get out of there! I can't keep Herman away much longer."
"But where--"
"Use your brain child! Remember what I told you about the seventh moon? Go back to your world find his journals. You don't have much time...hurry, go! You know the spell, use it!"
"Wait, how do I keep my clothes?"
"Hold on to them!" And with that, her voice dissolved.
"Serena," Mamoru said, "who are you talking to?"
"Petunia," I said, turning to him. "We've got to leave. Hold on to me, and pray." Through the door, in the clearing, I saw a flash of light followed by the appearance of a group of disoriented men. At their head was Ushiro. As I stared, I realized that we had forgotten the painting. I ripped myself out of Mamoru's grasp and dashed toward the group of men. I grabbed the painting and turned around in a quick motion, ignoring Mamoru's shouts. He ran forward to meet me, and I catapulted into him, closely followed by Ushiro and his raised sword. I closed my eyes quickly and began the spell even as Mamoru staggered backwards. We faded as Ushiro caught up with us.
"Earth," I gasped, as we neared the void. Unfortunately, I needed the name of someone in my world to locate the spell, and I couldn't think of anyone. I knew that Mina was out--I needed to go home, not Hawaii. If I deliberated any longer, Herman would be able to pull us back into Umeru. With a sense of dread I uttered the one name that I could remember, and wished most fervently that I could forget.
"Harvey," I said, and did my best to hold onto my clothes.
I materialized out of thin air in the middle of Cluck-U Chicken with a man from another world who had, against all probability, become my lover. Well, I thought philosophically, at least we weren't naked. I looked at Mamoru, and then amended my statement.
At least I wasn't naked.
END of this chapter -- the next one up tomorrow or in a few days. Thanks for reading!