Tsubaki felt the air shift that day. A gentle breeze that rolled over her body, and she knew , even before they told her, that her brother was gone. It was like a knife in her gut. The feeling that it was her fault. The blame lay in her. She cried in shame for hours, curled in on herself. Wallowing.
Her pride would never allow her to admit it, but that's what she did.
Three days later, when the blossoms on the trees were beginning to wilt, and the spring was beginning to turn to muggy summer, she packed her bags, and headed for America.
It was strict there, they didn't approve of people like her, but it also meant they had formed groups, pockets of resistance that tried to prove their worth by saving the world. She would find her sanctuary in one of those pockets. There she would be able to track her brother down.
Planes were a terrifying thing. Especially when running away from home. They were new, and unexplained. Something she'd never experienced before.
With little money, she cloaked herself in shadows, and snuck aboard. Something she knew she would always feel bad about.
In the last row, on the last seat, she huddled, feet drawn up, seatbelt fastened securely around her waist, hugging her knees. It was dark outside the window, and the runway was a line of pinpricked lights leading on forever. The road that would take her far away. Maybe she would never come back again.
The duffel bag in the overhead compartment was like a tiny apartment now, one she would carry with her wherever this plane took her. She imagined plains, with no mountains in the distance, so vast, and empty she would feel full.
Quietly, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, it was bright outside the windows, and the runway was surrounded by wide streets, and dust. Like some witch, or wizard had stolen Japan away from her.