This story is crossposted to AO3.
...
Act 01 (ch 1-4) - a lot of worldbuilding to set the stage for the upcoming mysteries.
Act 02 (ch 5-10) - WIP
Act 03 (ch 11 - 15) - WIP
When I started writing this story, my intention was to explore the expanded universe beyond the Kira case, while contextualising the events of DN within the world of Harry Potter in all its nitty gritty glory. There is much more to L than what we see in the manga as primary canon is restricted to the game of cat and mouse between a serial killer and the detective trying to catch him. With this narrative, I try to bring some of the elements present in AN:LABB and L:CtW to craft a romance with many twists and turns, that goes beyond the supernatural aspect of the presence of shinigami on Earth and, well, the many consequences of governmental negligence in the wizarding world.
This is a story that also speaks about the dangers of patronising the people around you, how ethics and morality aren't so easy to handle and the value of kindness.
And finally, this is the story I wanted to write for myself. I hope you'll enjoy Anna's bizarre adventure as well.
I'm not a native English speaker, so these chapters take a while to come out!
Disclaimer: I do not own, make money off of, or profit from this story in any way. The majority of these characters belong to JKR and Tsugumi Ohba, and any quotes taken directly from canon belong to them, as well.
Act 01
Chapter 01: Introspection
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
April 5, 2004
Dear Millicent,
Apologies for replying so late. I hope this letter finds you well.
It's been just over three weeks since I moved into the apartment we last visited together. I reckon it agrees with me, despite the overall layout being comically smaller than your average London flat. It's certainly nothing that an Undetectable Extension Charm couldn't handle, though I'd have to practise inside handbags before experimenting with the living room proper. The last thing I need is the Japanese Ministry breathing down my neck for improper use of magic.
In other news, a few days after you returned to Britain, I met with that realtor from the agency to sign the lease. You know, the jumpy, wide eyed fellow who showed us those two other apartments near Shinjuku?
Well, I tried to pry for answers about the current state of affairs, but that relentless fopdoodle once again refused to assuage my concerns without so much as an apology. What should I have done for the sake of politeness, thanked him again for his time and strolled off on my merry way? Can't say I'm too proud of the way I managed things, but there's no use crying over spilt potion. It took some very keen prodding and quintessentially English bluntness to persuade the fellow that I wouldn't let this go anytime soon. Hammer and nail, indeed. I was at my wits end as you can imagine, though he caved in after a few choice words.
Mind, the man is as proficient in English as I am in Japanese. But it seems gesturing and pointing are still universally reliable vehicles of meaning; by some miracle he caught on, and through the endless stuttering I managed to piece together how they'd been given orders not to interfere — unless one of ours is caught in the crossfire. And even then it's not quite straightforward. Things seem to have changed a bit since the Muggles confirmed their vigilante's whereabouts to the Kanto region.
Or so it says in the same five pamphlets I was handed at the Ministry lobby over here — and which, might I add, couldn't refuse — aptly titled 'Attention: Maguru serial-killer is trouble. Guide to survival'. While it completely misses the purpose of my visit, it's just so littered with propaganda that the contents must have raised some eyebrows with the few pro-Muggle groups around here.
So far our side has come out of this unscathed, but I'm not sure how to feel about the whole rowdydow. I often wonder how it's going to turn out –
...
Anna read the letter once, then twice, before dipping her quill into a potful of black ink. With her left hand, she tapped her fingernails against the table surface in absent-minded contemplation, trying to gauge whether to include any recent news that might be of interest to her friend. Perhaps a note on the privatisation of the Tokyo airport? Or how yet another dozen men sentenced to prison were found dead in their cells, only a few days after the Muggles issued nation-wide broadcasts on their crimes? A rambling of her own concerns would just turn a nice letter into a long-winded essay, and it wasn't as if they hadn't discussed this in person ad infinitum.
Not that either of us knows much about Muggle law in the first place, Anna mused, delicately lifting a pretty hand-painted porcelain teacup from a coaster. It was piping hot as per her taste, brimming with a special blend of Earl Grey she had discovered at a gourmet shop in downtown Ginza. Beside it sat a small plate, its edges littered with crumbs and tiny bits of cold scrambled eggs she had cooked for breakfast. Serving as a glorified coaster from under the plate, the likeness of the Japanese Minister for Magic stared out of its frame within the front page of the daily wizarding shimbun (01).
She brought the teacup to her lips, wary of burning her tongue. Upon inhaling the scent, she wrinkled her nose in dismay: there was a strong bouquet of something beyond the bergamot, hidden within the blend.
Could it be... raspberry? The hiragana characters on the original package proved indecipherable to her.
"Merlin's beard," Anna spluttered after a sip, grimacing at the cloying sweetness before swiftly setting the cup aside. Some of the liquid splashed onto the table, staining the edges of the parchment. What a waste.
Feeling betrayed, she returned to her letter.
'As a point of order,' Anna added in a first post scriptum, cautious to mind the bubbling frustration begging to be poured into words, 'the next time we reconvene, I'd like to at least have a chance to show you why convention is not morality. Whatever our advantages, it is up to us to guide them from afar, in utmost secrecy — as a shining beacon in the darkness that surrounds their failing ethos, while actively scrutinising our own biassed point of view —'
Shaking her head, she scratched out potentially vexing words with a decisive stroke of her quill. "No — no, that would be unnecessary. Not to mention preachy," Anna muttered to herself through gritted teeth, the tip of the quill hovering just above the tight space between the last chunky paragraph and a simple 'I miss being busybodies', right before her signature. The idiosyncrasies of Muggles were something that Millicent was woefully uninterested about — quite vocally so, in fact — and thus remained a peculiarity that belonged entirely to her.
With a deep sigh, Anna squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and stretched against the back of the chair, much like a lazy cat. The intermittent glare from the telly-visor caught her attention, distracting her with lively moving pictures. Due to Anna's never ending struggle with the maddening buttons on the clicker, she let it play on, as a companionable background noise that had grown on her like fungus.
Amidst the jumble of incomprehensible words, the word 'Kira' popped up frequently with the quality of a haunting echo.
The living room smelled of the lavender and dried herbs she had put up in satchels all over the apartment, soaking into her clothes and hair like morning dew. There was a hint of stale dust and sharp salts; in the pantry cupboard she kept a sensible amount of potion ingredients sealed in jars, away from prying eyes. Soon, she would have to go into wizarding town to restock as allergy season would come in full force. Anna wondered whether the humidity would make it worse. Perhaps keeping a Cough potion or two would come in handy.
Around her was a ghastly mess: books and rolls of parchment were strewn haphazardly on the floor and across furniture, their covers worn and the pages wrinkled. Piles of antique tomes leaned precariously against each other, while a rather bulky volume on early 18th century Italian poetry remained open just off the edge of the dinning table she had brought all the way from Surrey. If she were to lean in closer, she might discern a faint scent of cauliflower emanating from the paper. It brought her a sense of ease, conjuring memories of the cosy library with windows of stained glass she had left behind at home.
The disarray was the result from a minor earthquake that had shaken the area in the early hours of the morning, just two days prior. She hadn't anticipated it would become a regular occurrence; no one had bothered to mention it to her. For a while she felt a tad out of sorts, as being rudely awakened by her trembling bed frame had gifted her with a newfound sense of self-preservation. To any visitors, Anna would appear as a raggabrash of criminal proportions. Yet to Anna, the nonchalant attitude everyone else here seemed to adopt towards quakes was the real atrocity.
Rubbing her right temple, she made a mental note to tidy up soon and look for her beloved Encyclopaedia of Toadstools, now temporarily lost amidst the clutter.
Surveying her surroundings with a critical eye, Anna mournfully observed the jarring mishmash of family antiques — a collection of elegant Regency furniture adorned with intricate brass inlay, awkwardly juxtaposed with the excessive ornamentation of Victorian-esque timepieces and short cabriole legs embellished with trails of foliage. The absurd contrast to the functional and modern style of urban Tokyo was painfully apparent. Certainly, none of it exhaled the open-spaced, subtle comfort Anna had imagined. If anything, it exuded a bit too much panache for the tatami floors.
With the benefit of hindsight, weeks after unpacking and decorating, she saw the clutter for what it really was: an accumulation of the disappointments she couldn't let go of.
Anna decided to turn a blind eye to the tea stains marring the tabletop and bestowed upon the room a final bemused glance. Outside, the early spring morning welcomed her with a sky as blue as a wizard's robe. The few cloudy days had given way to milder temperatures as cherry trees bloomed and foliage turned a pleasant green. It seemed a world away from the dreary English weather she grew up with — though she reckoned those familiar grey skies and sideways rain wouldn't be missed. It dawned on her that there must be a smidge of irony in all of this; how it took venturing to a foreign country and experiencing sunlight to soften the edges of her cynicism.
She bit her lip. It felt as though she was peeling away the frothy foam from a metaphorical pint of butterbeer, revealing a sense of tranquillity she hadn't known before.
The quill trembled slightly in her hand. 'I'm no longer desperately unhappy,' she uttered aloud, entertaining the thought of including it in the letter before ultimately deciding against. With a weary exhale, Anna dragged her quill further down and added a second, more enticing post scriptum, that tickled her friend's penchant for absurdity. It read:
P.S2.: I've taken the liberty of attaching a set of pamphlets the Ministry owled me about proper behavioural guidelines for foreigners enrolling at uni, plus one of the veritable five I've mentioned before. Have fun; the translations are inspired in a way I cannot do justice in this letter. Remember that Maguru means Muggle over here.
I won't forget your last, though I need some time to consider my own concerns. Have you taken care of those Doxies yet?
...
Satisfied, she meticulously folded the letter and pamphlets, tucking them snugly inside a patterned origami envelope. Her gaze wandered to the wooden perch outside where her owl was halfway through regurgitating mouse bones, but a sudden, piercing chime broke her reverie. She turned around to glare at the tall grandfather clock in the corner, noting with dismay that it struck a quarter to ten in the morning — a troubling revelation indeed.
"Blast it all," Anna muttered, cursing under her breath as she rose awkwardly from her antique chair. She still needed to take a shower, pick out a suitable outfit that didn't stand out. There were so many things to do and she was very nearly running late .
A skitter and then a faint rustle came from behind the kitchen counter. She ignored it, urgently making her way across the small living room. The crisp morning air awaited just beyond the threshold.
As Anna reached the balcony, she shielded her eyes from the sun's glare, listening to the bustle in the streets below as her eyes adjusted to the light. At this time of day, the izakayas and noodle shops closest to the university were swinging open their doors, gearing up to serve the sort of mouth-watering street food Anna was still trying to fathom could exist. The enticing, myriad of scents wafting through the air set her stomach rumbling even though she had just finished breakfast.
Anna's gaze drifted to the cushioned chair on her left, positioned beside her racing broom that was leaning against the wall. With a shake of her head, she regarded an oddly shaped feline with amused disapproval, as it eyed the owl with unabashed interest.
"Is this going to be your new haunt, then? Hmm," Anna mused aloud, crossing the faux grass flooring barefoot, mindful of the scattered bones that littered around the perch stand. With a gentle touch, she caressed the owl's head as it nipped playfully at her thumb.
Behind her, the only reply she received was a sound that didn't quite resemble a meow in the strictest sense, but might pass for one if the listener wasn't too familiar with cats. Casting a glance at the creature, she found it had turned its back on her and sauntered over to the next chair, bristling.
Anna chuckled. "Rufus, good grief. You'll have to forgive me eventually, you know," she gave the orange fluff a pointed look that went promptly ignored. "And please take care not to get too close to the edge of the balcony while I'm gone today. I reckon the ceremony shouldn't take too long, but I'll have that — well, I'll have something. At least, I believe I've an appointment scheduled, though I'm not entirely sure about the details —"
Anna's thoughts were interrupted mid-sentence as her gaze briefly drifted beyond the balcony rails. Her apartment occupied the topmost floor of an eight-story building, — enchanted to look one level lower — a mere five-minute stroll from the university's westernmost gate, which opened onto the plethora of restaurants and shops scattered just outside campus. From her vantage point, she could observe the towering university buildings dominating the skyline above verdant trees. Though it was a privilege to witness such urban beauty, she couldn't help but to contemplate the lingering unease at the back of her mind.
The Muggle world troubled her, no matter how much it also fascinated her for all its uniqueness. It often made her feel like a cat among pixies — yet with the added burden that, during such sensitive times, any misstep could disrupt the delicate balance keeping wizarding society away from the dangers they fought so hard to conceal themselves from. After all, what could a simple house cat do before a swarm?
Anna shook her head. Right. She was running against the clock.
"There you go," said Anna. With a deft flick of her wand, the envelope slipped easily into a small tube-shaped container attached to the owl's leg. She sealed it carefully before stepping aside, waving at the bird as it soared into the distance. As if transfixed, she kept watch until it disappeared. Yet another piece of home that eluded her.
As expected, the Muggles remained unaware of the odd, and very much magical exchange that had just taken place. Such was the nature of a witch's safehouse: it was hidden from prying eyes. From the outside, it would seem that a bird had just taken flight from its nest. There was nothing illogical, no woolly happenstance of any sort that could sound an alarm.
Until such a time when she decided to emerge, hers was the presence of a ghost.
Anna clutched the balcony railing tightly with both hands, casting a wary eye downwards. A familiar sense of unease creeped over her as she observed groups of students making their way for the entrance ceremony at To-Ho. Dressed in formal attire, they looked like ants; orderly and indistinguishable.
"There's just so many of them," she whispered to no one in particular, though a pair of ears behind her perked up at her words.
She took a deep breath and promptly rushed inside the apartment.
~o~O~o~
Anna's apartment complex loomed behind, casting long shadows in the early morning light as she hurried along the zebra crossing. Her low flats clicked urgently against the asphalt road; she almost flew to the other side of the pavement, trying not to bump against anyone as she slipped between a dozen other students that bustled alongside her, all bound for the university. She failed despite herself, biting her lip to contain a whimper of embarrassment.
"Excuse me — sorry, I'm really sorry about that," she said in a faint voice, tuning out the angry grumbles that followed her. Flushed, she retrieved a silver watch from a hidden pocket within her overcoat and shook it a few times, until the hands settled into place with a whoosh . Eyes widening in alarm, she quickened her step: time ticked away past ten-fifty in the morning.
As Anna neared the western gate, a group of foreign students called out to her. She recognised a few faces, having met some of these people during the previous week at gatherings and — rather awkward — tutoring sessions mandated by the university. However, her cheeks reddened a little more as she soon realised that she couldn't associate names to the incoming horde of, to be frank, very nice folks. Stumped as she was, she briefly considered casting a Confundus Charm on everyone within the vicinity so that she could, at least, have an excuse to introduce herself again.
"Bloody hell," she mumbled under her breath, making a mental note to purchase a Wit-Sharpening potion at the closest apothecary. Waving, she marched towards the group. She felt a subtle swell of pride as she adjusted her floral-patterned blouse, adorned with delicate petals embroidered in soft hues, and then the black pencil skirt she had donned — both smart choices to blend in seamlessly with the crowd, as no one would give her a second glance amidst the sea of peculiar Muggle fashion choices.
The group, though pleasant enough in their greetings, seemed fairly relieved to see her, babbling in shades of broken English with different accents.
A tall young woman with mousy looks turned to her.
"Hey, I was getting worried you wouldn't make it," she said, smiling brightly at Anna. Fresh-faced and energetic, she seemed far more friendly than Anna felt at the moment. She peered at her with curiosity, certain that they had exchanged words at some point; perhaps during a gathering or a tour around the university. Her memories of the event seemed cloudy, somehow. Strange.
Seconds later, she felt an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her in a short-lived hug. Blinking a few times, but otherwise feeling secretly warm at this outright display of friendliness, Anna noticed how the top of her head barely came up to the other woman's chin.
She bit her lip, struggling to remember the young woman's name. Was it Susan? Sabrina?
"Sorry, I lost track of time," she admitted, returning a polite smile without showing teeth. With some luck, she'd keep her wariness reigned in. "Is everyone here?"
The other woman dropped her arm from Anna's shoulders.
"Yeah, we were just about to run to the auditorium, — let's go, or they'll close the doors and we won't be able to get in," maybe-Susan-Sabrina said, guiding Anna towards the cherry blossom path that led to the main building. Petals fell from the trees in circles, landing on her head like snowflakes during a flurry in winter. "Have you met Lars and Ingrid? They're from Sweden, arrived just last week after a trip to Kyoto," Anna waved at the two newcomers. "I think you know everyone else — aside from Alex, that is. He's also a Brit, like you."
The person in question gave Anna an enthusiastic handshake. "Let me guess, Brighton?" he asked.
"Close enough," Anna gave a slight smile, mentally reviewing whether her wand was easily reachable from the armband she kept under her left sleeve. "A few ways off Windsor, further into the countryside. My family always preferred the quiet life to a town's frenzy. And by your accent I take it you're from…Manchester? Liverpool?"
The boy — Alex — nodded, satisfied. "Good listening skills. I'm actually from Radcliffe, whereabouts in Manchester. Lived up in Middlesbrough until secondary school, though — da' had to relocate for work and dragged us along with him. A tad closer to where the northern dogs of society howl, yellow brick roads and all," he added the last bit with a knowing smile, as if this was a reference she'd somehow find kinship with (02). When Anna's expression didn't shift from a polite stare, he cleared his throat. "Didn't know Windsor was that rough. I'd have taken it for a posh town with loads of pensioners, though I suppose there's still the Eton blokes to keep an eye out for."
Too many Muggles. "It's relatively quiet in town, but my dad's side was always keen on tending to the family estate," she explained, mindful not to give too much away. The others looked at her with polite interest. "That part of the countryside is still close enough to civilization without making you feel you've been dropped into the middle of nowhere. Like in Wiltshire."
"Only been to Stonehenge once with my mum," Alex replied conversationally, with only a hint of judgement in his tone. "Funny bunch of rocks, but too many tourists."
"Yeah, sounds about right," Anna followed the group inside the building and then into the auditorium as another girl in the group joked about a 'kodak moment'. She pretended to laugh with the others, though she committed the term to memory to research later on.
Inside, the auditorium was packed. As such, the group was forced to climb the stairs up to the topmost floor with haste, in their quest for the least busy area; they settled for a section a little ways to the right — not quite centred, but close enough to a privileged location. The friendly young woman — called Sarah, as she managed to gauge from conversations around them — pointed to a number of vacant front row seats, which they quickly occupied before others could spot them. Anna slithered to the very first row and sat down heavily, depositing her backpack on the floor right between her legs. Quite unafraid of heights, she leaned forward over the rails and craned her neck to survey the hundreds of students and staff directly below their platform. From this angle, they had an excellent view of the stage; though, unfortunately, she wouldn't be able to understand a word of the speeches.
"Is it always like this?" Anna asked no in particular, enthralled by the setting, the colours, the lights, the people and everything in between. With an almost imperceptible grimace, she tapped her fingers on the cold metal of the rails, as a light kind of pain spread slowly from her left temple.
Amused, the person sitting next to her, — Sarah — replied: "Not as busy as a Yankees game, but it's up there."
Behind them, someone was discussing the presence of a limb-ou-sine in the parking lot outside.
"Then I reckon it's going to be a fairly low key ceremony," Anna said. "No rock band or apparatus in sight."
"Yeah, last year's was very formal, as well. Fortunately for us, no one's really expecting the gaijin (03) to dress up — so I don't have to put on my prom dress yet," replied Sarah, a smirk gracing her lips.
"I'll go grab my best salaryman suit," one of the other foreign students joked, causing a number of chuckles.
"So, no plans for it all to go tits up," said Anna, half-serious.
"Nothing on the agenda, at least," Sarah chuckled, lowering her voice. "Otherwise the faculty board would be apologising well into the next decade for shaming the university and bringing bad luck into the new year."
"Suppose we won't see any yõkai coming up from under the stage, then," said Anna absentmindedly. Maybe it was the stuffy environment, but she was feeling the start of an annoying headache.
"I'd rather not have to go ghost hunting like they do in horror movies. Only the virgins come out of it alive, these days," continued Sarah.
Horror movies?
"No virgins in here, that's for sure," said Anna feebly, through gritted teeth. She looked around, her headache quickly kept getting worse — almost as if there was something in the periphery of her line of sight.
"If you disregard that the appearance of a yõkai would actually prove that ghosts exist and that the supernatural is real, then I'm sure the board would be forgiven," one of the other students said, bantering with Sarah in excited whispers. He kept looking at Anna, trying to see if she replied.
Quick as a pixie, Sarah replied instead: "Oh, please. Aren't you just a hoot and a half — I don't want to be stuck in The Grudge."
"Yeah. Right. Brilliant, that," Anna muttered; she didn't know what The Grudge was, but it sounded like nothing she wanted a part of. She was only half-listening; biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to will the pain away with little success.
The other woman leaned closer to Anna, whispering almost conspiratorially. "So, are you coming tonight?"
"Where to?" Anna asked, distracted. The polite hubbub gradually faded into deferential silence — with the odd murmur here and there — at the prim procession leading this year's speakers to the podium.
"We're having dinner at my place, remember?" Sarah frowned, but the expression wasn't directed at Anna; rather, it was at the speakers. "Anyway, I was hoping you'd come, we haven't really met you , you know. How long have you been here, two months now? You can't keep avoiding us forever — what's more, we're really, really cool. Especially me."
Anna raised an eyebrow, turning to the other woman. "I don't think I forgot, but… we've talked about this before, haven't we? Some time ago," she mused, rubbing her eyes. "My memory's a bit foggy on the details, but I'm fairly sure we did."
Why can't I remember it more clearly? Feeling tense, Anna bit her bottom lip.
She was met with a puzzled stare. "Well, yeah. You're probably still getting used to the change, it can be overwhelming to take everything in for the first time. But yeah, we talked some three weeks ago, when your friend was still here; I think her name was Melanie, maybe? Had a misunderstanding with one of the volunteering freshmen over the free drinks stall while you were in Japanese culture class," she scratched the back of her head, sheepishly. "Didn't anyone tell you? It was a girl called Kyoko, I heard she burst into tears…"
That's why.
"Millicent. Her name's Millicent," Anna muttered dejectedly, suddenly understanding very clearly why she had been so confused about what should be a perfectly normal memory. Then, in a normal voice that attempted to mask the rising jab of shame and frustration in her chest, she added: "I'll be there, of course. Thanks for inviting me, despite everything."
"No worries, I'm just glad you're coming! This guy — Yasunaga — he's going to join us, too; he's the captain of the tennis team here at To-Ho. A bit stuck-up at first, but not really that bad once you get to know him," the grin on Sarah's face was so wide that Anna was afraid it would stick that way. "So, we'll meet at the side gate around six and walk to my place with the rest of the group. Just don't forget to bring a camera and — oh, shush! The show's about to start."
There was an annoying ringing from the sound system that propagated in every direction like the waves at sea, constant and overwhelming. Resting her elbows on the rails, Anna frowned as she tried to pay attention to the first round of speeches. The low lights, the echo from the microphone or perhaps the perspective as she looked down at the stage were giving her a pinching sensation in the eye area that she had to blink away. The air felt…greasy, making it hard to focus. She was certain that she looked grim or indisposed, with gritted teeth, trying to block out the — mostly — unintelligible conversations around her. Though unsuccessful, she tried to make sense of lone syllables and scattered words that were as foreign to her as the habits of the Muggles she tried to blend in with.
Anna massaged her left temple imperceptibly, as if scratching an itch on her scalp. At times, she felt that she must embody the second calling of Sisyphus, forever trapped in a futile struggle against all the things she should've resigned herself to long ago. Her expression of forlorn contemplation was crossed by a grimace, just as another surge of pain stabbed her behind the eye; it was moments like this where she wondered about Millicent's parting words to her. Had she been right all along?
She let out a long, suffering breath and squinted at the speakers: while the first was a perfect picture of bearing and demeanour, the second one — whose terrible posture was somewhere between impossible and abysmal - had decided to forgo decorum entirely and dressed as if he'd pulled random clothes from his bedroom floor. It was difficult to decipher further details from a distance, but the contrast between the two was significant enough that even she would notice such a dress code disaster.
"Excuse me, what are those two babbling about?" She asked Sarah, pointing at the distinct duo on stage. Her eyes struggled to stay open.
"I think they're the freshmen representatives," Sarah paused, frowning. Anna followed the other woman's gaze. "The second guy looks really awkward, though. Look at how he's dressed! Who wears blue jeans and a white shirt to this kind of event? The faculty staff have got to be shitting themselves right now," she snorted, jerking her head towards the queue of men and women sitting at the back of the stage. "I think he's got the same name as that TV celebrity, Hideki Ryuga — although they don't look anything alike. Is.. is he picking up the speech with two fingers like pincers? What a crazy guy."
"Right." Anna did a double take, wincing at the sharp pain brought by the effort of focusing her gaze towards the stage.
Out of nowhere, she felt a hand on her arm as Sarah turned to her, eyes filled with worry: "Anna, your nose! You're bleeding —"
"What the —" Confused, Anna gingerly touched her fingertips to her nostrils, feeling the warm trickle of blood on her upper lip. She drew away her hand, regarding the crimson smear with apprehension. A round of applause drowned her thoughts just as a fresh wave of concern built up inside her stomach.
"Where's the nearest loo?"
"Go down the stairs and turn right, it should be close to the elevators." Sarah gulped. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"No — no, that's fine. I'll meet you at the main entrance after the ceremony is over, probably under the blossoms."
"But —"
Anna disregarded the bemused glances and whispers behind her. "Just meet me there," she snapped, the grim tilt of her lips hidden by her blood-stained hand. Sarah opened her mouth stupidly, stunned in a way that caused Anna to feel immediate remorse for her outburst. Softening her tone, she added: "Don't worry about me; I'll be hunky-dory and up to muster in no time."
She swiftly grabbed her bag with one hand while the other stayed pressed against her nose to stem the flow and set off.
Wincing from the ache in her head, Anna quickened her pace, her bag thumping against her back with each stride. She gripped to the handrail for balance at the top of the staircase, nearly flying down the steps two at a time. When she got to the ground level, she looked for the lifts and noticed an 'out of business' sign blocking the door to the women' lavatory.
With a frustrated sigh, she scanned both ends of the hallway and noticed a few people still out and about, so that ruled out forcing her way in or using magic to unlock the door. She grudgingly resigned herself to the circumstances and slipped out through the front door as discreetly as possible, trying to find a secluded area where she could fix the blasted bleeding. Entering another of the campus buildings would draw too much attention, something she wasn't terribly keen on.
Truly, the day was proving to be more eventful than she had bargained for.
Anna hurried along the cherry blossom path, brusquely brushing off the petals that drifted down with the gentle spring breeze as she looked for a spot nearby in which to hide. Outside the main building there were almost no passersby; only the odd tourist wandering about with an awed expression, immersed in maps or taking pictures of the scenery.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a matron in shorts and a wide straw hat throw a perplexed glance in her direction. Anna felt her breath hitch as she ventured a look: a compact camera on a strap dropped between ample bosoms, bouncing, while the worried lady made as if to reach out with a chubby hand. Flushed, she averted her eyes and stared straight ahead, speeding up in awkward strides towards the car park. What a sight she must've been, if strangers stared after her in stunned silence!
The sole of Anna's shoe dragged over gravel covered ground at the park. She hesitated, looking left and right. The metallic smell of blood was making her nauseated; though now that she had left the auditorium, she could feel the pain around her eyes lessening — almost as fast as spilling water out of a glass. The two blood-slick fingers on her left hand were a tad crusted. Anna's eyes widened as she tapped her upper-lip: the flow had stopped, leaving her with sticky fingertips.
Steeling herself, she quickly surveyed the area and then walked towards a secluded spot under the shade of a tall laurel. The daunting Ficus microcarpa, if memory served her. Believed to be a meeting place for spirits (04). It was oddly fitting, she thought, skirting around a black vehicle with tinted windows, half-hidden by a high hedge of shrubbery. She studied how the seedling expanded out of cracks in the stone walls, much like the overflow of magic trickled and poured into the world.
A whisper in the wind made her shiver. Anna suddenly felt quite exhausted, as if the adrenaline of the moment began to dissipate. Dropping her bag on the ground, she settled for leaning against the closest surface she could find — the vehicle — and allowed herself a moment's rest, closing her eyes. Her right heel rubbed on the ground; she could feel the texture of gravel against overgrown moss. It was gritty and rough.
She let out a weary exhale. There was a slight dampness in the air, the type that preceded rain. Another spot of aggravation for the festivities, since she'd have to carry an actual umbrella.
After a beat, Anna started working with her pinky and ring finger to unfasten the button on her left sleeve and push it down, so she could pull out her wand. Cautious, she tried not to fuss, should some of the blood stain the delicate flower embroidery that circled the cuff of her blouse. If she had her way, it would be kept immaculate —
A faint rumble reverberated from above, drawing her gaze upwards with childlike wonder at the sight of an aeroplane gliding through the sky.
I wonder how they stay up in the air, she mused, lips slightly parted.
"Are you feeling unwell, young lady?" came a sudden, concerned voice somewhere from her right, speaking in spotless English. Anna almost jumped six feet out of her skin, heart hammering like a drum.
Whirling around, she was met by the knitted brow of an older gentleman, staring at her from inside the vehicle. She hadn't seen him before; the windows were dark, making it impossible to even glimpse inside unless rolled down.
Anna's ministrations ceased at once. "I'm so sorry!" she spluttered, clutching her chest with her unsoiled hand as her breaths came out uneven. Her cheeks were flushed from embarrassment; she had been caught off guard. How utterly stupid of her, how unforgivably careless. "I had a complication — nothing to worry about, really — just a small nosebleed. See?" she pointed at the dry blood. "It's already sorted itself out, I'll be off in a jiffy once I clean myself up."
She held up the other hand, the one stained with her own blood, both as a peace gesture and proof of her honesty. It made her uncomfortable, the way this man considered her in quiet contemplation, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening as he frowned at the blood on her hand and upper lip. His was a grandfatherly face that had certainly weathered many decades, she thought. Rubbing the heel of her shoe on the gravel ground, she watched him nod to himself and then disappear for a spell, rummaging inside before opening the door. Once he stepped out, he carried a small, white box with a red cross plastered on the lid.
The man placed the box on top of the hood.
"Ah, indeed," he agreed pleasantly. "A truly bothersome occurrence during such a lovely day. Here, please let me assist you," he insisted, proceeding to open the box without waiting for her reply, a polite smile under his grey moustache. Anna returned a strained smile of her own, eyeing the way he poured a transparent liquid onto a white pad with suspicion. With a swift movement, he held it out to her, waiting.
"Thank you kindly," she said, taking the pad after a moment's hesitation. The man looked agreeable enough, keeping a gentlemanly bearing as he meticulously repeated the process. Trying her best to sound nonchalant, Anna asked: "This would be for…cleaning, right?"
"Indeed it would be," he said, and if her question made the man question whether her faculties had been affected by whatever ailment she suffered from, perhaps even muddling her comprehension of mundane tasks, then there was no hint of condescension behind the polite stare. Anna felt relieved, despite her wariness. "Might I suggest starting with your hand? The next gauze will be ready once you're adequately finished."
"A gauze. Yes, yes, of course," she said, suddenly feeling very aware of how dirty she looked. "I'm Anna Green, by the way. I'd shake your hand but under the current circumstances I'll settle for a hearty 'thank you'."
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Green. And please, think nothing of it," the elderly gentleman reassured her. "You must be an exchange student from the United Kingdom," he said as a matter of fact, conversationally even; though Anna couldn't help but to feel he was examining her, as if trying to settle some concern.
"Yeah, that's right," Anna cleaned the blood on her fingers to the best of her ability, then accepted another pad with a grateful, albeit faint, smile. "Born and bred." So to speak .
"Are you aware of any family history of high blood pressure? Perhaps diabetes?"
Anna paused. These Muggle diseases were unfamiliar to her. "I don't think so," she answered slowly, her face a mask of careful politeness that hid the nerves bubbling underneath. "Must be a side effect of incoming spring allergies. Though I hope it was just the once."
"Nevertheless, in matters of health it always pays to be prudent," he argued in a tone so sensible that Anna had trouble rebuking the claim. He offered Anna another pad and placed the soiled ones inside a small, transparent bag. "The local hospital provides more than satisfactory services. I would urge you to schedule an appointment in case something similar occurs while you're here."
Something about the way the gentleman said the word 'schedule' made her pause. Like a hint of an accent, either forgotten or buried after many years abroad. "I — thank you for the advice. I'll think about it," she rubbed her hands together. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have been born in the UK as well, would you?"
Anna bent down to pick up her bag from the ground; behind her, she heard rustling and the steady snap of a lock from behind her, but no reply followed. When she turned around, the gentleman had finished packing up the box, looking intently at Anna with that same serene smile. But behind the smile, his demeanour was serious. He seemed to take her in more closely, if that was possible.
"I've been around loads of foreign students in the past month, at some point I'd have to pick up on the nuances," she explained, trying to fill in the awkward silence. Something felt different after her question, though she couldn't quite explain it; almost as if she had stumbled across an invisible line, only to crash against a wall. She took some comfort in knowing her wand was easily reachable, should there be a need for it. "But no matter. Thank you for your assistance, Sir —"
"Smith," he added helpfully, nodding at her. "There is no need to thank me, Miss Green. It was a delight to meet you; I wish you the best of luck in all of your future endeavours."
"Likewise, Mister Smith," Anna smiled. "Would you like me to bin those? I'm going to wait for my group at the seats under the blossoms until the ceremony ends, there should be some general items bin nearby," she added, pointing towards the bloody pads.
"It's quite alright; you need not trouble yourself further," he answered, albeit in a tone that brokered no further argument. "Japan has strict rules for waste disposal which I'm familiar with, and would gladly tend to these in order to avoid you further bother."
She blinked, overcome by a strange sensation that she had just lost an important thread. "Oh. Brilliant," Anna picked up her bag and waved at the man as she left. "Well, have a wonderful week! And thank you again!"
The older gentleman gave her a polite nod and entered the black vehicle once again, rolling the driver's window up. Anna frowned, replaying the encounter in her mind as she marched in the direction of the cherry blossom path with determined strides.
Settling herself comfortably on one of the benches closest to the auditorium doors, Anna leaned back and looked up at the sky.
She waited, alone.
...
TBC
Huge shoutout to newlolly for being an awesome beta!
It occurred to me that, while 12k words is fine on paperback, it might be a tad too daunting for a single chapter online — in particular a prologue. So, in the interest of making it easier for everyone, I split this mammoth of a chapter in two. The next part should be up in a couple of weeks, as I still want to revise to make sure it's not abysmal.
Notes and translations:
01 - shimbun is the Japanese word for 'newspaper'.
02 - Alex is referring to the song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John.
03 - The term gaijin is used to refer to foreigners in Japan. While it's considered rude in polite conversation, here its usage is meant to convey some irony and self-deprecation.
04 - Indian Laurels provide a fair amount of symbolism due to their exoteric nature in East Asia. Here, in more than one way, we are looking at narrative foreshadowing: the meeting between worlds, both shrouded by lies.
