This chapter is kind of a story within a story, sort of styled after the Russia flashback in ep. 17.
Contains violence, and some [very mild] lime content.
The apartment was dirt cheap due to the landlord being in the process of remodeling the upper floor. It was seven am, and the hammering had already begun.
The tiny room was sparsely furnished, only an armchair, table and mostly empty bookshelf. The thin futon in the center still smelled of it's plastic wrapping when it was unrolled, and Saya placed on it, still unconscious.
To Haji, this was almost a routine, caring for Saya in this way, passed out after a battle.
Haji had removed all her clothes save her undergarments; her uniform was absolutely drenched in blood, and was now soaking in a bathroom sink full of cold rust-colored water. If there was anything Haji was an expert at other than cello, monster-slaying and tacit emotional support, it was removing bloodstains.
She was asleep so deeply that she didn't even wake when he redressed her in a curiously familiar set of clothes. Her green blouse and white skirt had been tucked away in his cello case ever since she had dressed for that fateful night at the opera in 2006.
Haji then knelt over her, lovingly running a damp washcloth over her blood-spattered face.
The cool water against her skin made her stir, her eyes cracking open slightly, focusing on his him for a moment, and then closing once more.
The late nineteenth century…
…
Saya vaguely registered the sensation of something cool moving across her forehead and shifted under the covers in response to the chill.
Her eyes opened to the amber glow of an oil lamp just beside the mat where she'd been sleeping, taking notice of heavy, rhythmic, metallic clanging that seemed to be coming from somewhere near by, perhaps the next room.
Just as she finally recalled last night's defeat, she also perceived movement on the other side of the mat, and her senses told her that it wasn't Haji.
Saya shot up to a sitting position, seizing the intruder by the front collar of her clothes.
"Who are you?!" she demanded.
The only answer she got was a startled eeep from a terrified, kimono-clad young woman.
"Saya, it's alright, your safe," came a familiar voice from across the room.
Saya exhaled as she released the frightened girl, and turned to face Haji, finding him kneeling rather awkwardly on the floor. Beside him was an older Japanese man, in casual, yet traditional attire, sitting with his back to her. At first glance, he actually made her think of Joel, due to his short, thoroughly gray, yet not receding hair.
Saya started again when she realized that the man was holding a sword, but relaxed once more, recognizing that it was obviously neither a offensive nor defensive position, he actually appeared to be grinding the edge it against a stone block in front of him.
"You're wife is rather high strung, isn't she?" he said, neither looking up from his work nor turning to face her.
That was enough to jolt Saya out of whatever drowsiness might have otherwise lingered.
"We are not married," Haji said calmly.
"Oh, pardon me. Your lover," the man said, very briefly glancing over his shoulder at Saya.
Saya couldn't let that statement pass without some sort of refutation. "I am not his lover," she cried in a tone somewhere between the righteous indignation of a lady whose honor had been insulted and the embarrassment of a teenage girl upon being romantically implicated with a platonic friend.
The old man looked genuinely confused and turned to Haji, but still continued his polishing. "Hmm, then I don't mean to pry, if she's not your wife or your lover, why do you bring her along with you on your crusade to slay those things?"
It took Haji a moment to form his response to the man's assumption. "With all due respect, I believe you have misunderstood. It is she who brings me along. Saya is the one who fights them, I am merely her chaperone. She actually prefers that I not get involved in combat, if possible."
The grinding of the sword against the stone finally stopped and the old man turned around to face Saya, as if her presence had been inconsequential until that moment. His face struck her as like that of an old sailor, rough, permanently reddened, and creased not so much by age as by action.
"This girl? She is the monster slayer?"
"Yes. It is she who has vowed to destroy them, thereby protecting the humans that they hunt."
It might have seemed strange that Haji would put words in her mouth, but the fact was, his Japanese was twice as good as hers, due to his often staying up all night to study the text they had bought, as well as long conversations with crew members of the ship that brought them there.
Saya's progress had been less impressive. At this point, she got the gist of almost everything she heard and was able to hold a conversation, but she often found herself missing crucial subtleties, and this language was full of them. Thus lately, Haji had been doing most of the talking.
Haji was always a fast learner, especially when it came to blending in. Adapting to new cultures and surroundings was a skill he'd picked up long before meeting Saya.
Despite her clumsy Japanese, she couldn't hold in her question. "Why are we here?"
The old man answered before Haji could. "I saw you two fighting that thing last night, or actually, by the time I was able to see anything, you two were in a bloody heap on the ground. I managed to get it in the eye bad enough to scare it off, and brought you back here." The old man's voice was stern and yet unaffected, and he began polishing again.
"Saya, he saved our lives, and has offered to help us."
Saya's suspicion of his motives caused her to forget the thanks she owed him for the moment. She had lost consciousness while in the presence of a shape-shifting monster, so it was reasonable to assume that the old man was in fact the Chevalier they had fought the previous night.
"So you just happened to find us?" she actually managed to insert some subtext into the statement.
"No, I didn't just happen to find you. I had been tracking that thing and ended up finding you two."
"Saya," Haji gently took hold of her arm, leaning over her shoulder, "I saw him and the chiropteran at the same time, we owe him more than just the benefit of the doubt," he whispered in French, the language in which all their private conversations were conducted at the time.
"I find it funny that you are accusing me of being one of them, considering you are one yourself," the old man said dryly.
The color drained out of Saya's face. The most cutting insult is always a truth that one refuses to accept.
"That's right, I know what you are. I have attempted to slay that thing myself, so I know how quickly it heals, and you two should have died of the injuries I found you with last night, but they're completely gone now."
Saya opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a pained gasp.
"Don't worry, I wont judge you for fighting against your own kind. Humans do it all the time. Say, is it some kind of feud?"
"You could say that," Haji answered.
"It's not a feud," Saya said vehemently. "They just need to be destroyed! All of them!"
The old man turned to Haji. "Some fire in that belly, eh? Now I'm starting to believe that she's the warrior." He turned back to Saya. "I agree with you there. They do need to be destroyed." He paused. "The murders began several months ago, always a small family, no more than three or four people, always drained of all their blood, always a blue rose left behind, always the same story."
"Do you have more details than that? Any clue could be useful in tracking it," Haji asked, clearly interested.
"You know, Shosuke could tell it better." He stood and pushed back a screen revealing an ash laden, smoky workshop, a cloud of steam erupting from a trough as a young man plunged a rough-edged disc of neon-hot steel into it.
"Shosuke! Come here!" the old man shouted over the hiss of the water.
The young man nodded silently, putting down his work. He looked to be somewhere around sixteen or seventeen, with an almost shockingly muscular build, accentuated by his shirtlessness and the gleam of labor-induced sweat, his bronzed skin and pleasing face highlighted by the orange glow of the fire.
Haji noticed that Saya was blushing, but not looking away. For some reason, Haji was immediately inclined to dislike the boy.
"Tell these people what happened to your family."
A few seconds passed before he spoke, his voice almost too quiet to hear over the crackling of the fire. "It was four months ago. We woke up one morning, and my mother was missing, so I went to look for her. I searched all day, at dusk I found her body in the creek. She was very pale." He paused and swallowed, but continued with remarkable poise. "I carried her home, but when I arrived, I saw it, my father and little brother dead at her feet, drained of their blood. There was a blue rose in her hand. She dropped it, and then disappeared."
The old man nodded. "I took him on as my apprentice just after that – he has no family, I have no son – it made sense."
"But wait. The killer, it was a girl?" Saya asked with excitement that was hardly an appropriate response to such a tragic story, "What did she look like?"
The boy briefly made eye contact. "It looked like my mother."
"The one we saw last night looked like a man," she sighed to herself.
"Always the same story" the old man lamented again, " - one family member leaves the house, returns, kills everyone and then disappears. Rumors are circulating that it's demonic possession, a logical conclusion considering that it would seem the thing appears in different bodies, but Shosuke's story shows that this isn't the case. The thing must have the ability to change it's appearance." He paused and took on a grave look. "I want to help you end it."
Gratified as she was by his statement, Saya shook her head.
Haji took this as his cue to elaborate on her tacit refusal. "We really appreciate you letting us stay here, but I really don't think there's anything else you can do to help."
"Hmm. Do you know exactly what it is that I do?"
"Judging by the equipment, I'd say you're a swordsmith," Haji answered.
"A weapons smith, technically. A little town like this has no need of a sword specialist, so I also do fancy tanto and naginata for rich-girl's weddings, as well as various, unorthodox weaponry – but lately, demand has been so low that I'll be making pots and pans any day now."
Saya seemed to gather what sort of assistance he had in mind. "I already have a weapon."
"This thing?" the old man said condescendingly as he grasped the rapier laid out beside Saya's mat. "If this is what European swords look like, it's no wonder they invented guns. You actually fight them with this?"
"Yes, I do," Saya said with a note of irritation.
"But it's a stabbing weapon, yes? When one of those things takes a hit, it closes up almost instantly, I would think that puncture wounds would be the most inconsequential."
The old man held up the weapon he was currently working on. "Japanese katana can cut a man in half with one swing, even in the hands of a human, in the hands of a demon like you, I'm sure it could do the same to that thing."
"I don't need to cut them in half."
The old man looked puzzled. "How else could you kill it?"
"We have reason to believe that Saya's blood is poisonous to them if it comes in contact with theirs, theoretically, she would only need to scratch it," Haji explained.
"Reason to believe? You mean you've never tried it?"
"Not yet."
The old man stared at them incredulously, "Have you ever killed one of them?"
"No, but I will," Saya declared firmly.
The smith shook his head. "All the more reason for you to get a new sword."
"I appreciate the offer sir, but I wouldn't know how to use a sword like that, a slashing weapon."
The old man looked her in the eye. "You'll just have to learn then."
Haji seemed to see the value in the old man's suggestion. "Could you recommend a good teacher to us?"
"I would, but it would sound rather arrogant for me to tout my own skills. I have always been of the opinion that a swordsmith who doesn't fence is like a cook who doesn't eat - how would he know the quality of his own work?"
"I'm sure it would be too much trouble -"
"No trouble at all, I promise you. I've just started teaching Shosuke, so it would only be a matter of yelling at two people instead of one. Now, I can't teach you the formal styles that you would see in some fancy dojo, but I think that's all the better in this case. I would think fighting monsters wouldn't require rigid codes of honor, but rather stealth and resourcefulness. Lucky for you, I have such skills."
"Where would a blacksmith learn something like that?" Saya asked, suspicion creeping back into her tone.
"If you must know, I have always specialized in unconventional weaponry, which means I attract some - mysterious clients, and in my younger days, I was known to exchange my services for their knowledge, and have picked up more than a few techniques."
"Oh."
The break in conversation was filled by grinding and clanging.
"So, your – friend, he told me that you are both from France."
"Yes."
He looked up from his work, and his eyes briefly roamed over her face. "Were your parents Japanese?"
"My fa – the man who raised me was French."
"Hmm." His eyes returned to the blade. "I think your natural parents must have been Japanese."
Saya knew what he was getting at. Before this journey, Saya had never met an Asian-looking person before, such a population being virtually non-existent in France at that time. It had occurred to her before that she looked a little different from the Europeans she had grown up amongst, but no more different than they looked from each other. But in the three months since arriving in Japan, she had been repeatedly mistaken for Japanese, particularly by her fellow foreigners, and thus had come to accept that she must look like a local to them.
"Because of the way I look?"
"Not just that. Your name, it was given to you by your natural parents, wasn't it?"
"Kind of," she mumbled evasively. Of all the things she had learned by finally being able to read Joel's diary, the fact that her birth had consisted of being removed from a mummified monster called "Saya" was probably the most disturbing, and she wasn't about to explain all of that to this stranger.
"Rather curious that it's meaning is so relevant to you."
"Meaning? I thought Saya it meant fast arrow."
"Yes, but it can also mean scabbard. A sword-holder, like you."
"That's interesting," Haji commented.
A young woman entered, wordlessly distributed cups and poured tea.
I must have scared that poor woman half to death.
She struck Saya as looking like a lady from one of the woodblock prints she'd been seeing lately, a classical Japanese beauty, naturally fair skin splashed with pink on the lips and cheeks, and striking black eyes.
"Is she you're daughter?"
"Chika? No, I pay her to keep house for me, ever since my wife died."
Saya thought for a moment. "Your wife - was she killed by the demon?"
"No. Not unless that thing can cause beriberi. I suppose you think that's why I try to fight that thing – in a way, you're right, because there's no way she would have allowed me to do something so reckless."
His tone was still austere and yet artless, it was becoming clear that this was the way he always spoke.
"Then why do you fight them?"
"So many have died. To kill innocents is truly heinous, but to do it while pretending to be someone they love and trust - that is just unspeakable. The people of the village now live in fear of their own families - it has to be stopped. No one else seemed to be doing anything, but I have some weapons training, so I felt it was my duty to my community to do something."
Those words resonated with Saya, and suddenly, she was a good deal more willing to trust him.
"Duty," Saya repeated softly to herself.
This would be the beginning of a deep, mutual respect between Saya and her teacher-to-be.
Saya realized that odd circumstances had caused something of a breach in protocol. "Forgive me sir, but I don't think you mentioned your name."
"Oh. Well, people call me Otonashi, but you can call me sensei," he said flatly.
That would be the first time Saya heard the name she would eventually adopt as an alias, sometime during the 1960s, and mark the beginning of a short, but influential period in Saya's life.
The smith, the apprentice and the maid would all have their parts to play.
Saya knelt on the floor, a position that she was not at all used to yet, but seemed to be proper in this country. The maid was behind her, attempting to pin her hair up, as Otonashi had ordered. Saya's hair was still rather long at this time, it wouldn't be until after the sleep she did not yet know to be eminent, that she would take cut it off, like a tonsure symbolizing her commitment to her cause.
Both Saya and Haji's clothing had been totaled the previous night, and any alternate outfits had not yet been brought over to their new lodging, so their current garb was borrowed.
It might have seemed that a kimono ensemble would have suited Haji, but it actually looked rather awkward on him. The hakama belonged either to Otonashi or Shosuke, both a good deal shorter than him, thus it only went down to just past his knees, appearing not unlike the long, baggy shorts that would come into fashion a century later.
Saya was also dressed in men's clothes, in preparation for the lessons that were to begin almost immediately.
"I really like these trousers, it's easy to move in them, but their no more revealing than a skirt. I bet these would catch on way better than bloomers."
"They are divided," Haji said with a note of disapproval.
"So, you can tell I have legs, I think you know that anyway. It's more modest than my old fencing uniform, and besides – it's not like you've never seen my limbs before…" She suddenly became aware of how suggestive that sounded. "I mean, in the old days, when you were a little boy…" That sounded even worse. "I mean … Y-you know what I meant!"
Ever since being allowed to read Joel's diary, or rather since finding out why Haji had been brought to the Zoo, it seemed that she had become especially concerned with matters of decorum wherever Haji was concerned, as if she were taking pains to disprove a malicious rumor.
"They haven't seen your limbs."
Saya could see that she wasn't going to win the debate, so she changed the subject.
"What do you think about the plan?"
"I think it is a good decision. I have to admit, your rapier has proven somewhat ineffective in past battles."
"You're right, I guess one of those Japanese swords might actually work better, Monsieur Otonashi sure was right about the puncture wounds closing up quickly," Saya conceded. "You know, I feel like we can trust him, M. Otonashi, I mean. He really seems to want to help us, and, even if you hadn't seen him and the chiropteran at the same time, I think I would be able to tell if it was him."
"I do recall that when we confronted them in Paris, you seemed to see right through Diva's disguise." He paused. "I am not trying to be pessimistic, but I don't think that Diva is behind the murders in the area."
Saya's eyes narrowed at the disappointing statement. "What makes you say that?"
Haji seemed to consider his words carefully. "Monsieur Otonashi said that the murders have been going on for almost six months, but we know for a fact that Diva wasn't here six months ago."
"But that doesn't mean she's not here now."
"Yes, but M. Otonashi has also said that the murders come at fairly regular intervals, one family of three or four every few weeks. And consider the information we gathered while closing in on Diva in Transylvania - the killings there were inconsistent, sometimes entire villages were slaughtered, sometimes only one at a time - there was no pattern."
"Well, it's definitely a chiropteran. If it's not Diva, then it's probably not Amshel either, since he's always with her. Who do you think it is, then?"
"I don't know, but judging by the letters we found at the castle, there is now at least one Chevalier other than Amshel, and at least one of them has traveled to Japan." Haji thought for a moment. "From what I know of Amshel, he would most likely choose someone trustworthy, someone he could control." He paused again. "Whoever they are, they could be here trying to lead us away from Diva."
The maid finished her task, and left the room.
"Well, even if it's not Diva, it's a chiropteran, it must be destroyed. No one is safe as long as even one of them is left alive."
Those words cut a stinging gash through Haji's already shaky peace of mind, and part of him, a big part of him, was afraid to ask what her plans were for the two of them.
Saya had learned to fence years ago, as a matter of fact, she'd been taught many things generally considered inappropriate for women. Apparently, Joel had been curious as to if a chiropteran female was as feeble-minded and frail-bodied as human females were generally believed to be at the time.
In terms of her current lessons, which seemed to be an unorthodox form of kenjutsu, Saya was actually making remarkable progress, but not really due to her prior training. It really had more to do with having a teacher who actually took her seriously as a student, and her having a strong motivation to succeed.
But more than anything else, Saya seemed to take to this new art like a duck to water because of the philosophy that went hand and hand with it. The concept of the empty mind had enormous appeal to a girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Battle, or at this time, practice, became an escape from the profound stress she was under as well as the tragic events that were still so fresh in her memory, the Zoo having burned less than a year ago.
Over the next four weeks, Saya and her companion fell into an unremarkable routine, Saya spending her days training, Haji dividing his time between sitting in on her lessons and searching the area for clues about the chiropteran.
Most of the truly memorable events would take place in the course of under twenty-four hours, shortly before their stay ended.
The high-noon sun was obscured by gray, fleecy clouds.
Saya and Shosuke stood in the small courtyard beside the workshop, each holding a wooden sword, Otonashi looking on with a critical eye.
"Do I really have to, sensei?"
"Yes, you have to. You are doing so well, you may as well get it right. It's part of good technique, makes the swing stronger, makes you breathe properly. Watch."
"Kiyeeeei!" Otonashi bellowed impressively, as he attacked the decaying fence post that had been designated as a target. He returned the wooden weapon to Saya, and grimaced briefly, putting his hand against his back.
"Agh. Now you."
Saya had been known to let out an occasional grunt every now and then during her previous fencing lessons at the Zoo, but never anything like the noises that Otonashi and Shosuke made. From her western point of view, there was something almost savage about it, not to mention extremely unladylike.
"Kyeei."
Saya gave the post a good strong whack.
Otonashi's head drooped to the side, his face bearing a look of disapproval.
"Pathetic. Again, with some spirit."
"Kyeeh!"
Otonashi sighed. "Shosuke will show you, I think I'd better sit down." He rubbed his back again. "Not as young as I used to be, and I should be getting back to work, anyway."
"Do you need help inside, sensei?" the boy asked.
"No," Otonashi said flatly. "Not until you get your head out of the clouds, you've been botching everything lately. What, are you, in love or something?"
The boy nodded, apparently concealing his embarrassment and returning to the occupation he'd just been assigned to.
"Yaaaaaaaaah!" he shouted, as his wooden sword flew toward the battered fence post, his movements a good bit more fluid than his aging master.
Saya actually found it slightly amusing that the boy, ordinarily so quiet and nervous in her presence, could muster such an intimidating noise.
Saya made another attempt, and turned to Shosuke, seeking his approval.
"It must come from your center," he said quietly, patting his stomach.
By this time Haji was making his way down the road, returning from a morning's investigations. He immediately noticed Saya with Shosuke, and wasn't pleased by the image he saw.
Haji was absolutely sure that the boy had developed some sort of fascination with Saya, but while he did stare at her every chance he got, his conduct had been irreproachable in every other respect, as a matter of fact, he often seemed downright scared of her. Even so, over the past weeks, Haji had grown to dislike the boy quite a bit, and knowing that he had no good reason to hate the boy just made him hate the boy all the more.
It also should be noted that Haji was, at this time, still literally in his early twenties, and had not quite grown into his impeccable maturity.
Haji could have sworn that for a moment, his blood literally boiled. At first glance, the boy appeared to be embracing Saya from behind, but after only a few more seething steps in their direction, he could see that the boy was actually holding her by the waist, one hand in front, the other hand in back.
"Try to tense your stomach more when you do it."
"Yaaaa!"
"That was better."
The boy's hands were abruptly removed when he caught sight of Haji.
"Oh, Haji. Any news?" Saya asked, now aware of his presence, and apparently unembarrassed.
Haji produced a bundled up handkerchief, and unfolded it, revealing a slightly wilted blue rose, speckled with two or three spots of dried blood.
Haji took notice of the way the boy flinched at the sight of it.
"Another family?" Saya asked somberly.
"Of four."
He could actually see Saya's heart sink.
"I was allowed to examine the scene under the pretense that I was a detective, and was allowed to take this. Saya, I believe this could be an important clue," Haji said, in attempts at raising her spirit.
"It's just a rose," Saya muttered.
"Yes, but look -" Haji plucked off a petal and held it out in his hand. "It's a real blue rose. It's not dyed. It must have been grown locally, and the plants must have been imported from Bordeaux. If we find those plants, we find the chiropteran."
Saya remembered once hearing that blue roses had been Joel and Amshel's first successful experiment in bioecology, and that the blooms had played a role in the courtship of their respective wives, both now long deceased, and they had consequently kept their accomplishment largely private, out of sentiment, thus the existence of blue roses was not known outside of Bordeaux. Joel's wife had passed on before she could remember, but Saya had actually been aquatinted with Amshel's, and recalled that she had once fondly recounted how she and her cousin, both affluent heiresses, had been wooed with bouquets of flowers that were supposed to exist only in legend, and had consequently opened their hearts to the bookish son of a banker, and his handsome English cousin. She only remembered the story because at one time, she had found it to be rather cute, but the thought of someone loving Amshel, a man whose evil she saw as second only to Diva's, seemed unthinkable to her now.
Saya made no response to Haji's theory; she was too wrapped in self-castigation.
More people are dying, while I'm just standing around. I am so useless. I am a failure. I failed those people.
"I need to get back to training," she mumbled. Haji took the hint and made his way toward the house, pulling out a small book, and sitting on the porch beside a small thicket of quince blossoms.
Her knuckles turned milk-white as she raised the wooden weapon again.
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Saya's signature battle cry was heard for the first time.
"Good! That one was good!" Otonashi called distantly as he leaned out the door of his workshop, quickly taking notice of the cloud of splinters rising up from the now completely shattered fence post. "See! I told you it makes the swing stronger! I think you've got it. Now, back to your drills."
Saya and Shosuke did as they were told, and began the monotonous regimen of repeating the same swing, hundreds of times in a row.
But for Saya, the empty mind was now a lost cause this particular afternoon.
I failed those people.
Those people died because of me. Everyone died because of me.
The silent declarations of self-hatred only stopped when she observed the maid walking by, her pace slowing conspicuously as she passed Haji.
She always does that, the coy little flirt! Does she really think he'll fall for that?
Or…
Well…
Wait, why wouldn't he fall for that?
Saya was rather surprised when she realized that Haji had clearly stopped her for something.
I wish I could hear what they were saying.
The two conversed for a moment and he motioned for her to sit down beside him. She couldn't quite put her finger on the reason, but the scene seemed to aggravate her already grim mood.
She soon found herself trying to read their lips, but between their speaking in a language she was not yet entirely proficient in, the wood sword constantly flying into her field of view, this was quite impossible.
Instead she found herself studying the girl, particularly her figure, that of a well-developed woman in her prime.
Grown up, feminine, demure, sweet – everything that I'm not…
Why wouldn't he? What's to keep him with me?
… I guess they'd make a good couple.
Irritation bubbled into resentment when she saw that the girl was giggling, and both she and Haji were blushing, their cheeks the same color as the quince blossoms nearby.
That was just too much. Saya's wooden sword fell to the ground and she made her way across the courtyard to the still chuckling pair, her classmate watching curiously.
The moment the girl caught sight of Saya, she stood, gave a cursory bow and left.
"What were you doing?" Saya asked, attempting to speak as disinterestedly as possible.
"She was helping me with my Japanese," he stated.
"Why are you blushing?"
"Apparently, I made a mispronunciation which changed the meaning to something rather embarrassing."
Due to the combination of repressed jealousy and already being in a bad mood from before, Saya had become irritable enough not to be reasoned with.
"Well -" her state of mind was now really starting to break through her composure, "We agreed that I would learn how to fence and you would look for the chiropteran!" she snapped. "With more people dead, you should be out there right now!"
It took him a moment to calm his surprise at how angry she sounded. "I came back to inform you of the situation, and also because I wanted to make sure I had the proper vocabulary in order to question the villagers."
She was actually upset enough to say something that betrayed her real beef. "Well, then what did you need her help for, you have that book you bought!"
"Yes, but the book only contains standard vocabulary, but for our purposes, it will be necessary for me to learn words that don't come up in everyday conversation, words like bat and blood-sucking. I asked for her help with that, and we ended up chatting for a short time."
"Why didn't you ask Otonashi?"
"I didn't really think about it. Chika happened to be passing by."
"Are you sure that's why you asked her?" she demanded accusingly, "or isn't it because you know she likes you?"
Haji actually looked somewhat shocked. "I -I've never seen any indication of her liking me. What makes you think -"
"A woman can tell!"
"Saya, Chika barely even talks to me," Haji said, firm, but not defensive.
"Of course she doesn't! She's reserved and polite, she's a nice girl." Saya's voice lowered to just above a mutter. "She's perfect for you."
That was when it occurred to Haji that Saya might be having the same insecurities about Chika as he had about Shosuke.
He furrowed his brows slightly. "Saya, you're not actually worried that I might run off with her, are you?"
He could tell by her glare that he had just hit the nail on the head. "Saya, with all due respect, that is one of the most implausible notions I've ever known you to have," he said, smiling in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Even if she doeshave some preference for me, what ever gave you the idea that I would do something like that?"
"Because she's pretty and you're a man!"
"Not that kind of man," he answered promptly. "Come now, even your novels don't make all men out to as degenerate womanizers," he stopped, noticing the telltale gloss of her eyes. "Come here," he sighed, stepping forward and putting one arm around her.
Shosuke, who had been watching the whole confrontation until then, averted his eyes bashfully, but Chika continued to watch from the doorway.
A part of Haji wanted to see Saya cry in that moment, not so much because he hoped that she was jealous, but because he knew how she'd been bottling up her emotions lately.
Still, the idea of her being jealous of him wasn't entirely displeasing, so he couldn't help asking. "Saya, why is this bothering you so much?"
His whole being buzzed in nervous hopes of her betraying some sign of romantic affection for him, but her answer inadvertently dashed such dreams to pieces.
"Because – because I - I don't know what I'd do if you ran off," she stopped herself, finally realizing the romantic implications of what she was saying, "I just need your help, it has nothing to do with you - being a man or anything, I just need you with me."
For his part, during the whole of the war, Haji would never be so tempted to explain that he'd been deeply in love with her for years, but those revelations would remain suppressed for over a century.
"I can't do this without you." She reached into his coat pocket for his handkerchief. "I'd go crazy, I'd break down, I wouldn't be able to go on." She blotted away the not-yet-escaped tear. "And I can't afford to do that, not until it's all over. I just can't."
"Saya…" he whispered.
She unconsciously slackened at the sound of it. In her mind, when he said her name like that, he was also telling her everything will be alright.
Of course, he was also telling her that he loved her, but that was something she had yet to recognize.
She folded the handkerchief and shook her head as she slipped it back into his pocket. "But it's not fair of me to ask that of you, is it? This isn't your cross to bear."
"No less than it is yours."
She looked up at him doubtfully. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Saya, I understand that you feel that Diva must be destroyed due to the danger she poses, but you are not at fault for-"
"Don't say that!" she cried. "Don't say thing's you know aren't true! I'm not some baby who has to be soothed!"
"Saya -"
She could tell that he was hurt, her tone softened. "I'm sorry, but if I can't trust you to be honest with me, then who can I trust?"
She turned to walk away.
"Saya, I was being -"
"Don't!" her voice wavered as she snapped. Saya turned her head, looking over her shoulder, but not making eye contact. "I'm sorry if you misunderstood what I said before. I don't need to be comforted. I need to be focused. Coddling me with lies, telling me that this isn't my fault - that will only detract from that, and if you cant help me, then -" she turned back around and walked away in silence. She didn't have to finish her statement, her warning was clear enough.
Haji's fingers drew together, the furthest extent of frustration he ever displayed concerning Saya. On some level, he knew that she was taking out her unhappiness on him. That seemed to be his lot in life since the Zoo, to share the load that was her troubles, and in a way, this would never change, as long as they both lived. This in mind, it might have seemed like Haji had no pride whatsoever, to put up with this treatment. In fact, he just had a different definition of pride.
The silence between Saya and Haji was even more noticeable as dinner was laid out before they, Otonashi and Shosuke. At this time, Haji still felt obliged to eat when in company, though he had noticed that lately, or rather since his transformation, food had mysteriously lost it's appeal; he regarded it as a human might after a huge meal. Saya's appetite however, seemed as voracious as ever, though she seemed to take far less pleasure in food, just as she seemed to take far less pleasure in everything.
The four housemates simultaneously took a bite of the meal, and then immediately reached for the tea, still perfectly synchronized.
Before any veiled comments about the scorched rice could be made, every heart in the room skipped a beat when a feminine shriek suddenly filled house. They all turned, finding Chika on her tiptoes in the corner, the hem of her kimono held up to her knees.
"Rat!" she yelped.
Indeed, there was a lump of greasy black fur moving across the floor toward the poor girl.
Chika's eyes shut tightly as if helpless in the face of this scurrying doom, but the creature was stopped dead, about two inches shy of her feet.
A pocketknife was lodged directly through the unfortunate critter; Haji's hand was still out in a follow-through position.
"Nice shot, Haji," Otonashi said matter-of-factly.
Chika minced across the room to her hero.
"Thank you very much," she said breathlessly along with a floor-level bow, as if groveling before a lord.
Saya fumed in silence at the display, even though Haji had staged many a more dramatic rescue on her own behalf. The confrontation from earlier that day had just rendered her especially sensitive to such things and it also didn't help that she could recall a similar instance in which she'd been startled by a mouse, but Haji had missed that time, no doubt due to the smaller target. But the idea that a prettier girl could inspire better aim wouldn't be the most irrational notion ever created by jealousy.
Haji immediately realized that he had just made matters between himself and Saya considerably worse, even though it had really been nothing more than an instinctual reaction, akin to slapping a fly.
"Now where did you learn to do that?" Otonashi asked casually.
"I learned when I was a boy."
Knife throwing had been one of his tribe's most popular acts, and Haji had been instructed in it in preparation of what was to be his livelihood. Killing rats in that way had been a pastime of the older boys, as he recalled.
"Hmm." Otonashi seemed lost in thought.
"Excuse me," Saya muttered as she stood, barely concealing her irritation. "I think I'll go have a bath."
Considering how agitated she was, the poorly prepared food was no big loss, not to mention that the unexpected impalement of a rat wasn't exactly stimulating to the appetite.
Haji would have attempted to follow and explain, but knew he wouldn't have been welcome, even if she wasn't going to bathe.
Otonashi ventured another bite of the food, and then stood himself. "I think I'd better get back to work."
A few seconds later, Shosuke glanced around the room, and without a word, he too left the table.
Haji, the one who was only eating out of politeness in the first place, was left alone with his dinner.
Even the slightest curve, the stringy strands of her wet hair, the subtle movements of her breasts, the beads of water rolling down her skin, were all faithfully projected on the white shoji screen that separated him from the room where Saya had just finished bathing.
It was, without a doubt, the most erotic thing he had ever seen, just the right amount of mystery to make it absolutely tantalizing. Haji stared like a man possessed, so absorbed by the breathtaking shadow that it was almost a minute before he realized that Shosuke was sitting on the floor nearby, his eyes also fixed on Saya.
Haji couldn't tell if the boy also hadn't noticed his presence until then, or if he was still hoping that Haji hadn't noticed his. Either way, Shosuke stood and slipped out of the room with a red face and downcast eyes.
Needless to say, the fact that the boy had also been watching didn't sit well with Haji. He even considered calling him out, but decided against it, he himself being equally guilty.
Haji cleared his throat. "Saya?"
"What?" answered the unwitting temptress, still audibly irritable.
"Monsieur Otonashi wants to see – I mean, he wants to speak with you."
"Just a minute."
Haji even couldn't pry his eyes away as the silhouette tied the sash round her robe.
Poor Haji was still nervously wiping away the sweat from his brow when he took his seat in the workshop as had been requested of him.
"Come! Come!" Otonashi exclaimed as Saya finally entered. "Not quite finished polishing it yet, and the accessories aren't done, but -"
Saya was fairly sure that in all the weeks she'd known him, Otonashi had never once smiled, but now, he stuck her as what Dickens had meant by merry as a schoolboy.
The old smith held the weapon up at eye level, unsheathing it slowly, all the while grinning as if about to deliver the punchline to a joke. The glow from the fire reflected off the blade, creating a gold stripe of light across his eyes.
Otonashi chuckled proudly as he finally pulled the scabbard away.
"I went through four designs and six rejects before I came to this," he declared as he handed the blade to it's new owner.
"No more cutting up your whole hand to spread the blood around. This part is double edged," he pointed to the unique, angled bend in the blade beside the guard, "So you cut your finger here, and the blood flows into these channels here, the funny shape gives the blood a little momentum so it spreads easily." He gave a toothy smile and held up a bandaged thumb. "I tried it myself."
Otonashi gave a sigh of satisfaction as he watched his student examine his masterpiece. "I love my work."
Back then, Haji still spent most of his nights laying awake in bed, partially to keep up appearances, and partially because he hadn't yet accepted the insomniac aspect of a Chevalier. He did take some genuine relaxation from it when he managed to coax his mind into a sort of waking repose.
That night, he was roused from his meditative state not by a sound, but by a scent.
Incense. A lot of it.
His eyes opened to dim room full of smoke, glancing around, and catching sight of the incense burner that had been placed just inside the door.
It was then that he noticed someone standing in the doorway, veiled in the fragrant haze. He recognized her instantly.
"Saya, what is it? Are you alright?"
She approached without a word, and sat beside him on the futon, a glow budding in her eyes. He knew what that meant, but she'd never bothered him for blood in the middle of the night before.
Perhaps she was too upset with me to ask earlier.
He reached into the coat folded by his bed, and pulled out his pocketknife, one hand on the handle, the other on the blade. Before he could make the incision, Saya seemed to materialize in his arms, ripping away the collar of his robe and biting into his neck.
His gasp sounded more like a moan, surprised but obviously not displeased by her actions. She had fed from him many times in the past, but always from his hand. Their shared Victorian background produced an unspoken agreement that for her to put her mouth on his neck would be indecent.
In the midst of this novel pleasure, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this was a sign that her feelings for him had indeed jumped the bounds of platonic friendship, as her fretting from earlier that day seemed to corroborate.
The pair of sharp teeth retracted from his skin, and a velvet tongue swept across the wound. He felt petite hands slipping between folds of his kimono, fingertips slowly raking across his chest.
"Saya?" he whispered tentatively, scooting away before she could disrobe him further.
"Say that you love me," she breathed into his ear.
"I love you."
What exquisite catharsis, to say those words he'd been holding in for so long. They rolled off his tongue so naturally as to make him unsure if he'd only said it because she'd asked him, or if it would have come out regardless.
Haji could feel his own heart slamming against his ribs as she crawled back into his lap. A vision of her unwitting performance behind the paper screen flashed in his mind, the shadow of that body had been gnawing at him all night and was now pressed against him so invitingly.
"Say it again," she sighed, dragging her lower lip across his neck.
"I love you."
She let out a lewd moan, one hand effortlessly pulled away his robe, the other crept up his thigh, immediately beginning a course of relentless caresses.
Haji was generally the sort of man to keep his wits about him in intense situations, his ability to reason, though halved, was intact enough to make him realize that the way she was touching him seemed a good bit more to-the-point than the timid explorations of a curious virgin. He knew that Saya had received more sex education than the average woman of her time and class, mainly out of Joel's erroneous belief that it would encourage her to mate. But were her lessons this comprehensive? Wouldn't instructing her in anything other than outright intercourse be somewhat counter productive to Joel's singular goal of procreation? Or, alternatively, he knew she was fond of romance novels, but were they this detailed?
He sealed his lips between his teeth, aware of the thin, paper walls, his body paralyzed by indecision. What was actually only a few seconds seemed like hours.
Perhaps there'd be no harm in just -
Her hands were so intoxicatingly vibrant and warm, so ruthlessly pleasurable, but even through the haze of rising bliss, he still couldn't help but wonder what had precipitated this sudden change in behavior, why Saya, lately so anhedonic and concerned with decorum, would so suddenly display such flagrant lust.
It stood to reason that it had something to do with their argument earlier that day. Could this be her way of apologizing? Considering how deeply her words had hurt him, it wouldn't have been particularly excessive.
But no, he quickly came to the conclusion that it was related to her concerns about Chika, that Saya must think the only way to keep him at her side was to indulge his sinful, male needs herself, that she must believe this was a matter of sacrificing her virtue or sacrifice her comrade.
"Take me, Haji."
Her voice was just as seductive as her command.
In truth, he'd been dreaming up scenarios just like this since he was thirteen, he couldn't think of anything in the world more appealing than making love to Saya. But, if he was correct about the reasons behind this sudden seduction, if he did so, he would be taking advantage of her insecurities, and taking advantage of her in this context was utterly abhorrent to him. That was not to mention the fact that, at this time, a lady losing her virginity before marriage was often euphemized as a fate worse than death.
What malign irony that unknown to him, in a few weeks, Haji would be cornered into promising to kill her with his own hands.
He pulled away again. "Saya," his voice cracked like he was fifteen again, "you don't have to do this, it's -"
"What is it, mon amour?" she interrupted him, grinning through the smoke and darkness and speaking in a provocative purr. "You don't want me, tonight? I know that you're not too tired. Come now, mon chevalier, make love to me like you always do."
His brows drooped and he looked at her askance.
She speaks as if we are already lovers… as if she's made the same assumption that strangers always make.
And then it donned on him.
The incense… it must be to mask the scent…
Haji scrambled out from under the seductress, hastily closing his robe as he ran through the house, his humiliating suspicions more than enough to wilt the evidence of what he'd just been at.
He slammed open the screen of Saya's bedroom, and his worst fears were confirmed when he saw her rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she sat up in bed.
"Haji? What's wrong?"
"Chevalier," he panted.
"Chevalier? Where?"
"In the house."
Saya shot out of bed. "Sensei?! Shosuke?! Chika?!"
"Chika has been dead for several days."
Chika was the one who was speaking, not only in an entirely different voice, but in perfect French.
Otonashi appeared in the doorway.
"You?! I knew you'd been acting strangely! I should have known from that terrible dinner!" the old smith growled.
No sooner than she had finished her statement, than young Shosuke, clutching his own sword, charged her with an enraged yah, only to be hurled back through the screen into the next room. Otonashi tossed his latest masterpiece to Saya, but was thrown to the floor a fraction of a second later, his head slamming hard against a nearby table.
Saya flinched, pressing her thumb to the root of the blade as she'd been shown, christening the new sword with her blood, eyes reddening in preparation for combat.
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
The new weapon sliced through the murky air towards the disguised beast, but before making contact, a grotesque demonic claw sprouted form one of it's kimono sleeves, and in the blink of an eye, had pried the sword from her hand. The creatures other claw dug into her shoulder, skewering it on it's claws, making escape impossible.
Haji flew towards the monster intending to free his lady, but was stayed when it placed an enormous talon across Saya's throat, making a clear non-verbal statement that it would press down if he came any closer.
The pretty monster grinned at him. "The little Gypsy boy has grown up into a fine young man. Blue eyes and black hair, you remind me of my husband in his younger days. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were his bastard son, no doubt by his mistress."
Saya was able to deduce the creature's identity, not so much due to the implications and context of her statement, but due to her voice. She knew that distinctive meek, flutey voice; she'd heard it often at Goldschmidt get-togethers. They had been on a first name basis.
"Astrid?"
"I see you remember me."
"Astrid Goldsmith? You're a Chevalier?" Saya stammered.
"I suppose the proper term would be Chevaliere," she placed particular emphasis on the last syllable.
"But – you died years ago, of consumption."
"Now don't get the wrong idea, don't think that my husband put that blood in my mouth because he couldn't bear to see me cough up anymore of my own, as a matter of fact, he couldn't even get me to keep it down, he had to inject it. No, he just wanted to know if it would work on a woman and I was his most convenient test subject, someone who's loyalty was assured, his obedient wife of forty-five years, so obedient that she would go all the way across the world to this backward country just to throw off his enemies." She gave brief, bitter laugh, "Perhaps he did change me out of love, but not love of me. It has been a long time since there has been any room in his heart for me, even now when I can make myself young and beautiful, still, he only has eyes for one."
Saya attempted to grasp at the sword at her feet, but it was too far out of her reach, and she had no chance of overpowering a chiropteran that had just imbibed a family of four.
"But if I kill you Saya, hewill be pleased. I'll be able to go home." The creature turned her head, pressing her cheek to Saya's temple. "I wonder, if I cut off your head, will it grow back, like a lizard's tail?" She let out a chuckle slightly reminiscent of her husband's.
Before the grisly experiment could be performed, a high, sharp, feminine cry of pain resonated through the room.
It had come from the monster, startled by the sting of steel in her back.
Shosuke stood directly behind her, grasping the hilt of his sword, face bearing a look that was nothing short of inspiring, the harrowing resolve of a hero avenging his murdered family.
A split second later, the creature whirled around to face him, slicing through his neck with one stroke of her claw. As the wide-eyed fearless boy fell back and slid against the wall to the floor, Saya took the opportunity to retrieve her blood-coated sword and immediately thrust it into the monster, lodging it deep in it's abdomen. Saya stumbled backwards, panting, one hand covering the still gushing wound in her shoulder.
The creature grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled it from her own body, but instead of the expected gurgling-splat, the sound of the blade being removed was reminiscent of breaking glass.
"What?" she really did sound confused as she looked down at her wound, watching as the cracks began to spread.
"What is this?" she exclaimed in a terrified, trembling gasp, "what is happening to me?" Her eyes frantically darted back and forth between her wound and the faces of her onlooking enemies. "What is happening to me?!"
The creature's face contorted in shock and agony as her legs crumbled beneath her, her arms shattering against the floor when she fell to it.
Both Haji and Saya looked on, aghast and even slightly sickened, not realizing that someday, they would see this macabre phenomenon on an almost nightly basis.
The cracks had reached her face, but strangely, the pain seemed to drain out of her features as she turned to face her enemies once more, her expression one of epiphany.
"London. They're in London," she gasped with her last breath.
Astrid Goldsmith would have the distinction of being the only Chevaliere in known history. Based on her case study and the eventual discovery of her treacherous last words, Amshel concluded that women were too emotionally unstable to serve Diva, and he would never instigate the creation of another female Chevalier.
It had been just under two days since the termination of the target, passage to England on the first available ship had been booked, and they were to depart for Yokohama harbor later that afternoon.
Saya had been especially quiet since the battle, her mind weighed down by what would be the first of her life's many bittersweet victories.
His cremation having taken place earlier that morning, at the moment, her thoughts were centered on Shosuke. But the emotion that dominated her reflections on his death was not guilt, as one might expect.
It was envy.
He gave his life to avenge his family and prevent the murder of others. He did his duty as a good son and a good human being.
And now he's at peace.
She sat in silence, staring off at nothing, so zoned out that she started slightly when Haji sat beside her.
The sight of her companion drew her mind to another subject.
Interestingly, Saya's anger with Haji seemed to completely dissipate upon the unmasking and death of the maid.
"Haji, I've been wondering – how did you figure out that she was a Chevalier?"
Haji seriously considered lying, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.
"She came into my bed."
This was one of the rare moments in which Haji's face displayed an obvious, intense expression. That look of absolute mortification made his meaning abundantly clear, even to someone as naïve as Saya.
She stared at him, horrified. "Did you -?"
"No," he answered decisively, praying that he wouldn't be asked to give further details.
For some reason, Saya felt relieved to hear that.
"But wait, that still doesn't explain how you figured out she was a Chevalier."
Again, he seriously considered lying.
"She came in - wearing your face. I was able to determine that it wasn't really you."
Now it was Saya's turn to look mortified. Irrational though it seemed, somehow, she really felt personally embarrassed for the imposter's actions.
His statement also gave her a good deal to think about.
So she tried to seduce him, pretending to be me? I guess she must have thought we were lovers – but – he said that they didn't – he rejected her –
He rejected me.
Hmm. I guess that means he's not interested in me like that. I was actually starting to wonder… but no, I guess not.
That's –
That's a relief –
… I guess.
"Finally, all done!"
Otonashi pushed back the screen separating them from the workshop, conveniently putting an end to the discomfort of the moment. He had that schoolboy look again while motioning for Saya and Haji to come examine the creations now laid out on the floor mat, each covered by a worn blanket.
"This was, by far, the hardest to make, I had to consult a carpenter on the design, and put a lot of thought into it, but I think it turned out well."
Otonashi pulled back the cloth, revealing what would become an iconic part of their arsenal. The shape of the large box was such that neither Haji nor Saya knew what use the black lacquered, child-sized coffin could possibly have for them.
"The shell is solid steel, as hard as any shield or armor, and because of this, it is incredibly heavy, I think that with a bit of momentum, it could bash through a man's skull like a pumpkin, and thus probably do some considerable damage to a monster too. These steel plates cover the areas most likely to get scratched. I had to adjust the design quite a bit from the original, if I had made it with curves, like the case you already have, it wouldn't be nearly as strong."
Otonashi snapped the box it open, revealing a distinctively shaped cavity, lined in blue velvet.
"A cello case?"
The old smith nodded. Both he and Haji simultaneously descended to the floor, hovering over it as if looking under the hood of a car. "Here's for your bow, here and here - compartments for accessories or what-have-you."
Otonashi smiled broadly as he pushed aside what appeared to be a small metal charm. "This is my favorite part!" he declared proudly. "Watch! Watch!"
A pair of doors popped open, revealing Saya's new sword, now completed
"You can't wear swords in public these days, even in Japan. This should allow you to bring it along, even to places where weapons are not allowed."
Otonashi would have been highly gratified to know that his invention hid her sword so well, that in the distant future, it would always go through airport security completely unmolested.
Saya gestured to the sword. "May I?"
Otonashi nodded, and handed her the weapon. Saya looked over her newly finished nihonto, admiring the ingrained pattern that ran along the side of the blade across the unique channels. It looked almost as though ice crystals were creeping up from the cutting edge.
"The accents are blue. To remind you of your enemy," Otonashi said a little more solemnly.
Saya began slowly slicing though the air, cycling through a few stances, as if to get aquatinted with the finished piece.
The old smith turned back to Haji, the smile returning to his face as he gestured to another not-yet uncovered creation. "I have something else for you, I just put the finishing touches on these a few minutes ago. I figured that with the sword tucked away in the case, you'll need to have some easily accessible weapons incase you're suddenly attacked, but something small enough to hide about your person."
He pulled back yet another cloth, revealing nine small daggers.
"The cross-shape is so that if you throw it at one of those monsters, it won't slide all the way into the body and get lost, they heal so quickly, you know." He grinned as he gestured to the shimmering, slightly variegated red jewels adorning each weapon. "Pretty neat, no? A good luck charm."
A tiny, hint of a smile spread across Haji's lips. "Thank you. I will put these to good use."
"Excuse me." An unknown voice came from the door. "We are ready to depart."
"I believe that's our ride," Haji said, looking up. "I'll go load our things."
Haji exited, leaving only Saya and Otonashi.
"It's all perfect, sensei – I don't know how to thank you -"
"Don't thank me. These aren't gifts. They are tools for you to save lives, my contribution to the cause."
Saya gave a tacit bow, nevertheless.
"Saya, there is something I want to ask you before you leave." Otonashi sounded a little less stern than usual, but it was different from the jovial tone he had when showing off his work.
"Yes, sensei?"
"What will you do after you kill this - Diva?"
"I don't know," she answered truthfully.
"You don't?"
"I haven't really thought about it – I've – the only reason I live is to destroy her, so when it's over -" she couldn't quite finish.
Otonashi nodded, and seemed deep in thought for a moment. "Saya," he began in a far more tender voice than she'd ever had from him, "even in this short time, I have come to think of you like a daughter - so I will tell you what I believe you should do," he paused, "but it is a delicate matter, so I will try my best to say it with subtly - I do think, that at least part of you already knows what you should do, but you might be too scared to do it. Don't be afraid." He paused again. "Your friend, Haji, he is a rare man, it's not everyday one comes across a man who is strong enough to kill monsters and will do whatever a girl tells him to - but, I think he isn't as brave as he looks. Like you, I think Haji knows what he should do when it's over, but I think he will be too afraid to do it on his own initiative. You will need to ask him and then, I think you will have your deliverance. I do not think you will be able to achieve that on your own. He will help you find peace."
Saya was speechless for a few seconds, "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
Otonashi shook his head. "Just as well, it's probably not my place to tell you what to do with your life."
Haji paced into the room. "Whenever you're ready," he said, and exited again, sensing that he had walked in on a private conversation.
The current and future Otonashi slowly walked out together, "Saya, just remember, you say, and he will do. You might search for a thousand years and you will never find another man like that. You should ask him soon, it would give you both some peace of mind, I think. It will not be easy, but it will be for the best."
Haji helped her into the chase.
Sensing that the time for good-byes had come, Saya was forced to abandon the subject, despite still being confused as to what Otonashi was getting at.
She would contemplate his meaning all throughout the voyage, and during the final leg of their journey, the train ride from Liverpool to London, this rumination would lead to a fateful request of her companion, but not the request Otonashi actually had in mind.
A misunderstanding due to an unfortunate combination of vagueness on one side and a still slightly loose grasp of the language on the other, and then distorted by Saya's inner demons.
"Are you sure that there's nothing we can do to thank you?"
The old smith cracked a smile. "Don't give up. That's what you can do for me."
Saya nodded. "I won't."
The impatient driver snapped the reins, and the passengers jolted as the coach began.
"Keep up with your drills and you just might get good someday!" Otonashi called out.
…
The faint hammering from upstairs hadn't stopped. A drop of the cool water rolled down her cheek and over her ear.
She opened her eyes to a familiar face. He had always adored that little coo Saya usually made when she woke.
"Haji."
Good or bad, c'mon, you must have something to say to that! Please?