Scintillating: Twinkling
Alexithymia: inability to express feelings verbally
Petrichor: the sound of rain on dry ground
Hyaloid: glassy or transparent in appearance
~Tsubasa POV~
The tunnel echoes. It always echoes when you walk down it. There's a light at the end, scintillating with the movement of many people walking past. It always feels like I'm stepping into another world when I reach the end, like I've gone through a gateway: The sunny outside, then the grey of the tunnel, and then the roar and overlit quality of the battlefield.
Outside, Gingka joins the others at the edge of the grass, a quiet spot sheltered by trees just by the walkway. India is very hot at this time of day. Gingka seats himself at the edge of their picnic blanket and starts to eat.
He sees me standing stationary and invites me to sit down, but I do not feel like eating. I shake my head. He asks me if anything is wrong.
"I..." suddenly I am overcome with alexithymia. I am confused. I do not like to eat when I am confused. I tell them that the smoke from the battle has irritated my lungs and that I am going on a walk to clear my head.
My footsteps sound on the packed stone of the Indian streets like petrichor, and my mind is spinning. I don't know what got me so worked up about that particular battle.
Eagle swoops down from above me and lands on my shoulder. The smell of dead animal is on his breath. He has eaten his lunch already.
The streets are packed this noonday, and I am able to disappear in the crowd. I hope that my team is not too worried about me. I have no wish for unwanted questions.
Questions that have no answers.
I am far from the stadium now, surrounded by apartment buildings. High above me laundry waves in the wind, hung from ropes that span the alleyways. Through the crowd I spot a flash of red, the blink of a slanted eye, and I see Nile weaving away from a vendor's booth, holding a paper bag. I scan the crowd: he is alone. This mysterious African blader. On an impulse, I follow him; I have nowhere else to go.
He unwittingly leads me on a whiplashing course through the crowds of India, backtracking several times, until finally we have reached a part of the city that is much quieter. The crowds here are more spread out, and they are all heading the way we have come, for all the vendor's booths are there.
Nile climbs up the fire escapes until he reaches the top of a building, and I follow silently. Eagle, my good bird, does not make a sound. I hide behind the cooling unit on the roof, and Nile sits on the edge of the building, legs dangling over.
I watch him take out his lunch, and then he speaks.
"I know you've been following me. You may as well come out now."
Chastised, I step out from behind the cooling unit. Now that he's caught me, my game is over; I will leave.
But as I step down from the edge of the roof, he says, "There's enough room for both of us."
I return and sit beside him. He is the falcon blader, then. Quiet, like me.
Up here there is nothing to block our view of the sky, puffy white clouds and hyaloid serenity. I suddenly feel very small. The wind is low but it provides a good coolness, cutting through the heat of noon. Nile, Eagle, and I. Three little birds.
Silently he tears the side of his paper bag so that it spreads out flat between us. I smell yoghurt sauce and hot bread, and I feel my stomach churning with hunger. This empty sky has whisked away my uncertainty.
He smiles in amusement and gestures to me. There is too much for him to eat by himself, he says. So we share his lunch. Eagle dozes on my shoulder. He must have flown a long way today.
We finish the food, and speak of battles past. Nile tells me of how he and Kyouya fought for the World Championship ticket bracelets. I think it is a strange way of choosing team members, but perhaps beyblade is different where he comes from. I tell him of the rivalry I have witnessed between Kyouya and Gingka. I do not tell him of the uneasiness I feel about the power within me spinning out of control. It is good to be quiet for awhile and not speak of such things.
Our conversation is interrupted by my cell phone ringing. It is Madoka. She wants to know where I am. I do not want to go back, but it is late, and those unwanted questions are certainly brewing.
Wordlessly Nile gathers up the empty paper bag, grease stains gone cold, and follows me down the fire escape. We part ways several streets down; DeMorae has come to get him, and Eagle leads me through the unfamiliar streets to our hotel. Nile and I do not speak another word to each other. Anyone else would find it strange and hurtful; I find comfort in silence.
Now that my head is clear I can feel how exhausted I am. I am drained of all energy but perhaps for the first time since battling Kyouya in Japan, a hundred years ago, I am at peace.