Title: Crossing the Stars
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It is 2017, and it has been five years since Kyon last saw the Brigade--until now, that is. Revised edition.
Warnings: Some more dirty language.
Characters: Kyon, OCs, the Brigade in spirit.
Word Count: 4,621 (chapter); 10,165 (current total)
“I'm hot.”
“Then stop jumping around.”
“Idiot, then I'll get bored.”
Haruhi's hands jump to her hair, pulling it up to get some air to her face. I wonder
… But I can't tell from this angle, and not with the way she's clumped it up to cup in
her hands.
“Well, which is worse? Being bored or being hot?”
Her eyebrows furrow as she grumbles, “I wouldn't be either if the rest of the Brigade were here on time.”
True enough.
We were all supposed to meet in the courtyard after school ended. There's a movie out that according to Haruhi we must watch (or heads will, as always, roll). Who knew why—it looked like just another American fantasy film to me. Something about a girl with incredible powers joining together with a bunch of kids to save the world.
… You know, I miss the days when movies didn't just remind me of real life.
Of course, there's no way to tell Haruhi that so here we are, me lying down under the tree to catch what very little shade there is to offer, and Haruhi jumping up and down with her lips stuck out in a duckbill-like pout.
“Maybe they're at the bottom of the hill,” she says, finally stopping. “Kyon, you go look.”
“What makes you think that I'm going to go down a hill I already have to walk up every day just to walk back up again? Call them.”
“Their phones are off.”
Bastards. “I'm still not going.”
“But then how are we supposed to find out?”
“Go yourself.”
She kicks me in the shin—not hard, but that's probably because she's too close to put any power into it—before plopping down next to me. Her hair's down again, fanning out behind her to brush against my shoulders, and again, I have to wonder. There was no way of telling if it was long enough though. Anything past your neck seems long to me, but girls live by different rules.
We watch the clouds, thick and bloated with the promised storm for tonight, in an odd sort of quiet. A nice quiet, an easy quiet; but odd. Even though Haruhi had been quieting down for years, it's still a strange sight to see.
Nice sight, though. For as long as it lasts, anyway.
“Now I'm hot and bored.”
I sigh and get up. The things I do, sometimes.
----------------------------------------
Two
“Every man is the architect of his own fate.”
Appius Claudius
----------------------------------------
Three weeks passed by, but Kino did not.
Despite what one might guess from Kino's temperament, I've never actually been in this situation before with her. A few days to blow off some steam, sure, but that was true of anyone. Eventually she always came back though. She was Hera through and through, and therefore would demand some sort of penance or extra attention, but she would always come back.
Until now, anyway.
Perhaps I should have done something. I thought about it, often. My attention would drift to my cell phone every so often, as my mind mused over the various things I could say. In the end though, nothing came out right enough to try. “I'm sorry”? Weak; a coward's utterance, and definitely not what she deserved, not when I didn't even fully know what I'd done wrong. “I still think of you as my greatest friend”? Weaker still, and almost certain to make the hole deeper.
“I don't need to go”?
Now that was just lying, though I knew that it was what Kino would hope to hear.
She might have been the one that insisted I go, but that didn't mean it was what she wanted. She just wanted what she assumed was best for me.
Or did she know?
She said I had called her by that name. How long, then, I wondered. How long had she kept on a devilish, shining grin all the while thinking to herself, "Ah, is this what reminds him of her? Or is it the way I talk, the way I walk, the way I dress?" How long since I had slipped up, probably in an alcohol-drenched or sleep-deprived state, and uttered that name?
What else had I done?
I rolled over on the tatami mat and crammed the pillow over my head in defense, as if the thoughts were birds pecking at my brain. Thinking like this was not going to do me any good. I'd only ever figure it out by asking her and whatever the other tenants might say, I still had my sanity.
But—
"—n the studio here today on this, let's face it, less than lovely August 27th. I mean, I know fall's coming up, but come on, what's with this cold? And never mind the rain—"
My hand shot out and hit the snooze button on pure instinct. My mind caught up with it a second later.
August 27th. The day of the reunion.
Shit.
I pulled the pillow off and placed it back on the mat before rolling over to lie on my back.
I'd set the alarm for 7:00, meaning I had plenty of time to catch the 8:30 train. I'd give my body a moment more, and then get ready; my legs felt too sore for some reason to get up just yet, but maybe that was just anticipation of the trial it was soon going to go through.
The hill. Whoever would have thought I'd ever have to face that again.
I've dreamed about it, these past five years. Having gone up and down it all those times, I must have absorbed something about it into my body, not that nature had any special powers in my experience. Sometimes it's just in the background, and I know it's there, but sometimes I'm actually climbing it. Not for school, thankfully—that'd be incredibly depressing—but I was trying to get somewhere. I'm not sure if even in the dream, I knew where exactly. I just did it, in that definite way one does in dreams.
From dream to reality—again, whoever would have thought?
My relaxation time was up though. With a sigh, I slowly pushed myself up, and quickly grimaced. My legs weren’t the only part of my body opposing my mission today; my stomach felt like a tornado was brewing in it, sucking all my strength away. So much for breakfast (or lunch, for that matter); there was no way I was going to be able to eat.
Getting up fully with only minor complaint from the rioting body parts, I snatched a cotton button-down that was hanging on a chair and, satisfied with its general cleanliness, carried it with me to the bathroom on my shoulder. I really should calm down; I can do this. I had already worked out the plan in my head. I would go in quietly and drift through the crowds, just a fly buzzing through the room. It wouldn’t be difficult to avoid people I knew; there wasn’t that many of them who'd have a reason to remember me, not really. I was just that kid who tagged along with that weird club. Since I'd be going by my real name, they'd have even less reason to remember me. I doubted that most people back then would have even known it.
Actually, looking at myself in the mirror as I began to brush my teeth, was it even possible to recognize me? I spat in the sink and tried to look at myself objectively, the way someone who remembered me as the high school boy sleeping by the window would. It wasn’t the difference between night and day, me and him; it took effort on my part to see the changes at all. I was older-looking, of course, face now set in the manner it was always meant to be but I’ve gotten rather used to my face and it was hard to imagine how it had looked back then. More stern? Or less so? I certainly had less reason to be stern now. My hair was longer, currently in a bed-mussed state reminiscent of a dust bunny, which come to think was two blessings in one. I could also make use of the longer bangs to hide my eyes. Yeah, combined with the hint of scruff and a few added inches in height, hopefully I couldn’t be identified if worse came to worse.
Having succeeded in quelling the storm brewing inside me, fate rushed to refuel it as I snapped on the watch hidden in the medicine cabinet. It was very special to me, and easily the nicest thing I owned: black, elegant, expensive (at least it looked it—it was a gift, so I wouldn’t know), but most importantly atomic—making it very accurate.
And right now, it was very accurately reading 8:10 AM.
I bolted out of the bathroom (well, stepped out quickly—I couldn’t really bolt out of a room only marginally bigger than a phonebooth) and checked the radio. It read 7:10, but my loyalty lay with the watch. There had been a storm the night before; the power must have shorted out for a bit. I didn’t have an hour and a half—I had fifteen minutes.
Shit.
My brain pressed the fast-forward button on my body as in five minutes I buttoned my shirts, pulled on and zipped a pair of blue jeans, slipped on some socks and black dress shoes, and ran out the door, mentally pulling up maps of Osaka to find the shortcuts. If I ran, really ran, I could just make it. I’d collapse into the train, but I could make it.
I had to make it.
----------------------------------------
And I did.
But all my rushing proved to be useless. The trains, due to what was being casually called a ‘mechanical malfunction’, were running two hours late. It was a long wait, made only worse by the sudden arrival of rain. At first it was just a light drizzle, but it wasn’t long after I finally boarded that the gentle plinks became plunks and the plunks became the deafening barrage of bullets on the steel walls. Had I known I would have grabbed a jacket at the least, but I usually relied on Kino to keep me posted on the weather.
I collapsed onto the seat, legs still vaguely burning from the sprint. I really ought to get more exercise. Just because I was a writer didn’t mean I could waste away my muscles; just look at Murakami. I could only imagine how I must have looked to the high school girl next to me, but thankfully if she noticed she didn’t mention it, too focused on her cell.
Guess few things have changed,I thought, and I turned to the window instead. There was hardly anything to see. The skies were gray and murky and even if there were something worth looking at, the sheet of rain poured over the glass like a waterfall, blurring the scenery into bits of color.
The bit of bleach-blonde topped with the bit of black though was instantly
recognizable.
I shot up instantly, bringing my nose closer to the glass. It was Kino; it had to be Kino. But why? Had she come to stop me? She didn’t look it, standing so very still.
How long had she been there though?
My seat jumped forward and the train departed, leaving my questions and Kino behind.
----------------------------------------
It seemed like an eternity, but I finally arrived at the station. As soon as the doors opened I jumped off in search of a taxi, carefully avoiding businessmen and squealing teenagers. With the rain, they’d all be taken if I weren’t quick. There already wasn’t one available in my immediate line of sight, but there had to be one somewhere. It was just a matter of finding it.
Not too far off, I spotted a police woman waving at a car driving away. Excellent; if I couldn’t find one on my own, I would just ask her. She’d probably know whom I could call at the very least for one.
I walked over to her and the woman, politely smiling just moments earlier, snarled,
“Not even a freaking thank-you . . .”
“Um, excuse me?” I asked.
She turned, startled, and with a little hesitation and a swipe at her ebony hair was all-smiles again. “Oh hello, sir. Can I help you?”
“I’m kinda late—”
“—That’s very unfortunate, sir.”
If she only knew what an understatement that was. “Yeah. And with the rain, I was wondering if I could get a taxi?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid all taxis in the city have been recalled
due to vandalism.”
“All of them?”
“That is what I said. If you’ll excuse me, sir”
She strutted past me without another word, as I stood struck dumb. No taxis? But if there were no taxis, how was I supposed to …
All of a sudden I heard a cough and I turned. The officer stood, smiling in a clearly forced manner.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” With that she bowed deeply, exaggeratedly, and I was tempted to physically force her upright.
“Have a nice day, sir.” She injected the ‘sir’ again with some unreadable emotion and, having said that, rocked upright and walked away, leaving behind a disgusting aftertaste.
Come to think of it, that ‘sir'—she had repeated it the whole time. Was that her idea of banter? No, she was definitely making fun of me for some reason. The police force had to be desperate to let someone like her into its ranks.
Damn it, I didn’t have time for this.
I checked my watch: 12:00. I had to go, and I had to go now. With the taxis out of commission and no other way of getting there (if only my parents weren‘t on vacation for the summer), I had only one option left and knowing it. my feet wept.
With one last easy breath, I dove out from underneath the canopy and ran.
In seconds I was soaked, the thin cotton of my shirt doing little to protect me, and the chill bit into my bones with all the force of a dozen German Shepards. The only fortunate thing was that since I knew a few shortcuts and didn‘t have to worry about traffic, I might get there even faster than in a taxi.
But then. in a taxi, I’d be warm, dry, and my legs would be blissfully relaxing.
It really wasn’t a fair exchange.
I will say one thing about running though. Having nothing else to do, my brain was forced to work, and that was when I began to think. The taxis were recalled; the trains were running late; and my alarm clock had broken in the night, only presumably because of a storm. Couple that with Kino’s strange appearance at the station and even though I didn’t believe in secret plots (or at least, not anymore) it all seemed overly coincidental to me. Granted, bad things came in threes, but then what about Kino? She was the one factor I couldn’t quite make out.
Was she trying to stop me?
No, that wasn’t right. She may not have wanted me to go, but she didn’t have to say it in the first place if she didn’t intend to let me go. Besides, she was only one person. There was no way she could do all of that.
But then …
Last I checked, there was only one person who could bend machines to her will, by her will. There was only one person who could have implanted a subconscious desire in Kino to see me, which could have made me leave the train to try and make amends. Of course, she’d been inactive the last time I checked too, but wasn’t that the nature of a volcano? To undergo periods of dormancy before the big eruption?
No. I shouldn’t be stupid. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t.
But if it were? Not only possible, but definite? If it were her trying to stop me …
Wouldn’t that be because she didn’t want to see me there?
I picked up speed, the pain in legs suddenly vanished, as thunder rumbled through the skies.
----------------------------------------
It's amazing how you lose all sense of time when you run. I couldn’t tell you what happened in that time between the station and North High, but it seemed to pass in the flip of a page. I nearly passed over the foot of the hill when I finally arrived, barely registering it in the corner of my mind in time to stop.
I did stop though, and instantly my knees buckled. I would have collapsed entirely into the puddle if I hadn’t reached out with my arm to manage a crouching position. I gasped, my burning throat sucking down air wildly, and waited for it to subside. I really needed to get in shape.
Eventually I caught my breath and, standing, I turned to the hill I still had to climb. My legs of course were completely against it, but it wasn‘t like there was another way. Slowly, I started to walk. Five years and despite the initial complaint, my legs easily adjusted to the climb. If I hadn’t already been exhausted, the climb probably wouldn’t have been any trouble at all. Then again, three years of going up and down was enough to build up a memory in anyone’s legs, just like how an old dog intuitively knew the way home after years of making the same rounds.
By the time I reached the top, the storm had gotten closer. The wind picked up, whipping the branches of the tree into a frenetic dance, and the clouds thundered like an overly exuberant drummer close to my ear, slamming the skins with all her might.
Maybe it was because of this that I didn’t notice at first.
I opened the gates, really having to push due to wind resistance, and once in quickly stepped aside, the gate snapping shut behind me with a loud clang.
I could hardly believe it, but I was here.
Feeling out of place, I merely stood and looked up at it for a moment. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, really. Time went on; I knew that. I knew that new students would come in my place. I knew that they would walk the halls in which I had walked, learn in the classrooms in which I had learned, but make different jokes and play different music when they thought the teachers wouldn’t catch them listening.
But the idea of the school itself changing—that had never occurred to me.
There was a new wing on one side, and what appeared to be new windows and new doors. An equally new sign posted the directions to the Tsuruya Garden in the back (at least that one made sense—the richer families did tend to donate to the school after their students graduated and I had heard that Miss Tsuruya had planned to follow suit eventually). Even the color looked somewhat off, though whether that was because of a malfunction of memory or an actual new coat of paint, I wasn’t sure.
I couldn’t explain it, other than saying it didn’t feel right. Maybe if more time had passed, it wouldn’t be so surprising. In twenty years, I’d expect, maybe even want things to be different just as a sign that I had grown. In five years however, when I still remembered everything so clearly, it just felt wrong. My memories felt like the end-all, be-all; to think that in such a short time, they had all been made obsolete …
But then, that was life. It continued and changed whether we were there to note it or not, existing as normal outside of our limited scope.
Lightning finally caught up with its friends, wrenching me from my nostalgia.
Rubbing water out of my eyes, I walked towards the entrance. There weren’t any signs of festivities, but that wasn’t surprising. I was probably the only one too stupid to have not checked the weather and the events had probably already been set up indoors.
I pulled the door—and felt the slam of bolt against metal vibrate through my hand. It couldn‘t be stuck, could it? The lights were off and there wasn’t a sign, but this was the main door. It had to be unlocked, even if the event itself were elsewhere.
But, no matter how I pushed and pulled, the door wouldn’t open.
I spotted a doorbell—another thing that must have been installed since I graduated—and rang it to no avail. No one was in the main office or the foyer, though there was no reason for someone to be.
But so what if the door was locked? If the event was anywhere, it was in the auditorium. I would just have to try the door there.
I made my way without hesitation, but a dark little question nestled in my mind. Why weren’t there any signs? Again, the lack of decorations wasn’t odd, but not even a note on the main door? Had the wind knocked it down? Considering it was strong enough to blow away Fuji, I doubted a little piece of paper would be able to withstand.I’d have to remember to tell someone when I got to the auditorium, not that anyone else was likely to be later than I was.
It wasn’t far to the auditorium from the main door, for which I quickly thanked whoever had designed this place. The storm was only now hitting its peak and I needed to get indoors fast before I discovered what could possibly be worse than this monsoon.
But when I got near, something struck me. The wind was howling and the thunder was deafening, but I was close enough to the door that I should have heard something, maybe even have spotted some lights from the windows.
Yet underneath the soundtrack of the storm, I head nothing. No shouts from
reunited friends, no muted music, no laughter.
There was nothing at all, and when I tried the door I almost wasn’t surprised to see that it refused to budge.
I swiped at my bangs, glued flat to my forehead from the adhesive property of the rain, and, turning, crouched down to sit on the doorstop. I couldn’t have gotten the date wrong. I mean, theoretically it was possible, but it wasn’t the type of thing I would do. It was definitely not the type of thing Kino would do either, and even when speaking only theoretically, the chances of us both mistaking it for the same day was low. Was I too late? I lifted my other wrist from my pocket and checked the time. No, it should still be going on. I was late, no doubt about it, but not that late. Had it been called off or moved somewhere else? I had RSVPed rather late. Three weeks was definitely enough time to warn someone though, wasn’t it?
Removing all of those, there was only one option left.
There had never been a reunion in the first place.
The clock, the trains, the taxis, Kino—they were all just coincidences, or perhaps fate trying to spare me from my own idiocy.
Maybe it’d been a prank. That made a sort of sense. Anyone who had read my stories knew what city I lived in and where I graduated. Maybe it was as simple as some bored teenager with nothing better to do.
Though really, did it even matter?
I turned and flattened my back against the wall, the ceiling ledge being the only nearby protection from the rain. It didn’t matter—I couldn’t do anything about it. The fact was that today, here, now, there was no reunion. After all of this, after all my worrying, I was alone, trapped in a summer storm, and all for nothing.
But wouldn’t it have been for nothing anyway? It was supposed to be for nothing, just to soothe the part of my mind that ached for closure. There was no way they’d ever come. Again, the facts were simple.
Nagato? Back with the Data Integration Thought Entity, however that would work considering the genuine person she had become. She probably never would have gotten an invitation.
Miss Asahina? Back with her own family, in her own time. She’d be another case where the invitation would have been stamped “Return to Sender”.
Koizumi? Back with . . . whom? For the sake of parallelism, he had to be with someone, but as he had been in high school, he was the one enigma here. There was a slight chance he would come to something like this but why would he? He had never had the chance to get to know many of our classmates, having played the mysterious transfer student for all those years. The only reason I could see him going would be to see me, but given the extent of Esper connections, he could have done that any time he wanted.
And then, there was her.
I should have known. I had known, and yet as if just being back in town could send me back to the days where I had to worry about the universe crashing any second, I had allowed myself to think otherwise. She’d never have come to one of these things, not in a million years. She’d content herself with her own connections, since anyone she probably wanted to keep in contact with she probably already did. Or would she have come, for the laugh or to pull a stunt like she always did?
Maybe, if it wasn’t for me. No, she wouldn’t go, just to avoid me. I had only hoped otherwise, like an idiot.
I pulled my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees in a pathetic attempt to keep warm. All in all, it was for the best, really. This was a test run from the gods and a necessary one. Now I knew that I couldn’t be trusted to put what I should do over what I wanted to do. I would have liked better weather conditions, but otherwise, this was a good thing.
It only felt like a horrible one.
I wonder what she even looks like now . . .
“Well, then. You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”
I turned in the direction of the voice, only now hearing the clicking of a pretty but snarling woman's boots on wet pavement. She was wearing a long wool coat as black as her hair over a light colored tank top and Capri pants now, but she was still instantly recognizable.
The surprise in my voice was evident:
“Officer?”
“I mean,” she continued, ignoring me as she twisted a red umbrella steadily in her right hand, “first we delay the trains. Then we hold back the taxis. When they told me to come anyway, I thought the higher-ups were batshit.”
Wait.
“You?”
“Yet, here you are; a stubborn little monkey swinging through the storm.” She was in front of me now, maybe only an arm's length away, and crouched down to meet my eyes. “Look down.”
“Why should I?”
Her free hand reached into an inside pocket of the coat and pulled out a smooth, silver handgun as an answer.
“Look down, sir.”
----------------------------------------
I'm so eager to get the old readers back to where we more or less left off, but alas. It again feels like the proper way to end this chapter, though hopefully there's enough new and different to make up for it! It won't be long, guys!
Major thank yous and unending waves of gratitude to![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
rockeandroll and asfroste, for being spectacular betas of awe and might.
Trying to keep this short so it can go up tonight, so, until we meet again, guys!
For Chapter Three, click here.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It is 2017, and it has been five years since Kyon last saw the Brigade--until now, that is. Revised edition.
Warnings: Some more dirty language.
Characters: Kyon, OCs, the Brigade in spirit.
Word Count: 4,621 (chapter); 10,165 (current total)
“I'm hot.”
“Then stop jumping around.”
“Idiot, then I'll get bored.”
Haruhi's hands jump to her hair, pulling it up to get some air to her face. I wonder
… But I can't tell from this angle, and not with the way she's clumped it up to cup in
her hands.
“Well, which is worse? Being bored or being hot?”
Her eyebrows furrow as she grumbles, “I wouldn't be either if the rest of the Brigade were here on time.”
True enough.
We were all supposed to meet in the courtyard after school ended. There's a movie out that according to Haruhi we must watch (or heads will, as always, roll). Who knew why—it looked like just another American fantasy film to me. Something about a girl with incredible powers joining together with a bunch of kids to save the world.
… You know, I miss the days when movies didn't just remind me of real life.
Of course, there's no way to tell Haruhi that so here we are, me lying down under the tree to catch what very little shade there is to offer, and Haruhi jumping up and down with her lips stuck out in a duckbill-like pout.
“Maybe they're at the bottom of the hill,” she says, finally stopping. “Kyon, you go look.”
“What makes you think that I'm going to go down a hill I already have to walk up every day just to walk back up again? Call them.”
“Their phones are off.”
Bastards. “I'm still not going.”
“But then how are we supposed to find out?”
“Go yourself.”
She kicks me in the shin—not hard, but that's probably because she's too close to put any power into it—before plopping down next to me. Her hair's down again, fanning out behind her to brush against my shoulders, and again, I have to wonder. There was no way of telling if it was long enough though. Anything past your neck seems long to me, but girls live by different rules.
We watch the clouds, thick and bloated with the promised storm for tonight, in an odd sort of quiet. A nice quiet, an easy quiet; but odd. Even though Haruhi had been quieting down for years, it's still a strange sight to see.
Nice sight, though. For as long as it lasts, anyway.
“Now I'm hot and bored.”
I sigh and get up. The things I do, sometimes.
----------------------------------------
“Every man is the architect of his own fate.”
Appius Claudius
----------------------------------------
Three weeks passed by, but Kino did not.
Despite what one might guess from Kino's temperament, I've never actually been in this situation before with her. A few days to blow off some steam, sure, but that was true of anyone. Eventually she always came back though. She was Hera through and through, and therefore would demand some sort of penance or extra attention, but she would always come back.
Until now, anyway.
Perhaps I should have done something. I thought about it, often. My attention would drift to my cell phone every so often, as my mind mused over the various things I could say. In the end though, nothing came out right enough to try. “I'm sorry”? Weak; a coward's utterance, and definitely not what she deserved, not when I didn't even fully know what I'd done wrong. “I still think of you as my greatest friend”? Weaker still, and almost certain to make the hole deeper.
“I don't need to go”?
Now that was just lying, though I knew that it was what Kino would hope to hear.
She might have been the one that insisted I go, but that didn't mean it was what she wanted. She just wanted what she assumed was best for me.
Or did she know?
She said I had called her by that name. How long, then, I wondered. How long had she kept on a devilish, shining grin all the while thinking to herself, "Ah, is this what reminds him of her? Or is it the way I talk, the way I walk, the way I dress?" How long since I had slipped up, probably in an alcohol-drenched or sleep-deprived state, and uttered that name?
What else had I done?
I rolled over on the tatami mat and crammed the pillow over my head in defense, as if the thoughts were birds pecking at my brain. Thinking like this was not going to do me any good. I'd only ever figure it out by asking her and whatever the other tenants might say, I still had my sanity.
But—
"—n the studio here today on this, let's face it, less than lovely August 27th. I mean, I know fall's coming up, but come on, what's with this cold? And never mind the rain—"
My hand shot out and hit the snooze button on pure instinct. My mind caught up with it a second later.
August 27th. The day of the reunion.
Shit.
I pulled the pillow off and placed it back on the mat before rolling over to lie on my back.
I'd set the alarm for 7:00, meaning I had plenty of time to catch the 8:30 train. I'd give my body a moment more, and then get ready; my legs felt too sore for some reason to get up just yet, but maybe that was just anticipation of the trial it was soon going to go through.
The hill. Whoever would have thought I'd ever have to face that again.
I've dreamed about it, these past five years. Having gone up and down it all those times, I must have absorbed something about it into my body, not that nature had any special powers in my experience. Sometimes it's just in the background, and I know it's there, but sometimes I'm actually climbing it. Not for school, thankfully—that'd be incredibly depressing—but I was trying to get somewhere. I'm not sure if even in the dream, I knew where exactly. I just did it, in that definite way one does in dreams.
From dream to reality—again, whoever would have thought?
My relaxation time was up though. With a sigh, I slowly pushed myself up, and quickly grimaced. My legs weren’t the only part of my body opposing my mission today; my stomach felt like a tornado was brewing in it, sucking all my strength away. So much for breakfast (or lunch, for that matter); there was no way I was going to be able to eat.
Getting up fully with only minor complaint from the rioting body parts, I snatched a cotton button-down that was hanging on a chair and, satisfied with its general cleanliness, carried it with me to the bathroom on my shoulder. I really should calm down; I can do this. I had already worked out the plan in my head. I would go in quietly and drift through the crowds, just a fly buzzing through the room. It wouldn’t be difficult to avoid people I knew; there wasn’t that many of them who'd have a reason to remember me, not really. I was just that kid who tagged along with that weird club. Since I'd be going by my real name, they'd have even less reason to remember me. I doubted that most people back then would have even known it.
Actually, looking at myself in the mirror as I began to brush my teeth, was it even possible to recognize me? I spat in the sink and tried to look at myself objectively, the way someone who remembered me as the high school boy sleeping by the window would. It wasn’t the difference between night and day, me and him; it took effort on my part to see the changes at all. I was older-looking, of course, face now set in the manner it was always meant to be but I’ve gotten rather used to my face and it was hard to imagine how it had looked back then. More stern? Or less so? I certainly had less reason to be stern now. My hair was longer, currently in a bed-mussed state reminiscent of a dust bunny, which come to think was two blessings in one. I could also make use of the longer bangs to hide my eyes. Yeah, combined with the hint of scruff and a few added inches in height, hopefully I couldn’t be identified if worse came to worse.
Having succeeded in quelling the storm brewing inside me, fate rushed to refuel it as I snapped on the watch hidden in the medicine cabinet. It was very special to me, and easily the nicest thing I owned: black, elegant, expensive (at least it looked it—it was a gift, so I wouldn’t know), but most importantly atomic—making it very accurate.
And right now, it was very accurately reading 8:10 AM.
I bolted out of the bathroom (well, stepped out quickly—I couldn’t really bolt out of a room only marginally bigger than a phonebooth) and checked the radio. It read 7:10, but my loyalty lay with the watch. There had been a storm the night before; the power must have shorted out for a bit. I didn’t have an hour and a half—I had fifteen minutes.
Shit.
My brain pressed the fast-forward button on my body as in five minutes I buttoned my shirts, pulled on and zipped a pair of blue jeans, slipped on some socks and black dress shoes, and ran out the door, mentally pulling up maps of Osaka to find the shortcuts. If I ran, really ran, I could just make it. I’d collapse into the train, but I could make it.
I had to make it.
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And I did.
But all my rushing proved to be useless. The trains, due to what was being casually called a ‘mechanical malfunction’, were running two hours late. It was a long wait, made only worse by the sudden arrival of rain. At first it was just a light drizzle, but it wasn’t long after I finally boarded that the gentle plinks became plunks and the plunks became the deafening barrage of bullets on the steel walls. Had I known I would have grabbed a jacket at the least, but I usually relied on Kino to keep me posted on the weather.
I collapsed onto the seat, legs still vaguely burning from the sprint. I really ought to get more exercise. Just because I was a writer didn’t mean I could waste away my muscles; just look at Murakami. I could only imagine how I must have looked to the high school girl next to me, but thankfully if she noticed she didn’t mention it, too focused on her cell.
Guess few things have changed,I thought, and I turned to the window instead. There was hardly anything to see. The skies were gray and murky and even if there were something worth looking at, the sheet of rain poured over the glass like a waterfall, blurring the scenery into bits of color.
The bit of bleach-blonde topped with the bit of black though was instantly
recognizable.
I shot up instantly, bringing my nose closer to the glass. It was Kino; it had to be Kino. But why? Had she come to stop me? She didn’t look it, standing so very still.
How long had she been there though?
My seat jumped forward and the train departed, leaving my questions and Kino behind.
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It seemed like an eternity, but I finally arrived at the station. As soon as the doors opened I jumped off in search of a taxi, carefully avoiding businessmen and squealing teenagers. With the rain, they’d all be taken if I weren’t quick. There already wasn’t one available in my immediate line of sight, but there had to be one somewhere. It was just a matter of finding it.
Not too far off, I spotted a police woman waving at a car driving away. Excellent; if I couldn’t find one on my own, I would just ask her. She’d probably know whom I could call at the very least for one.
I walked over to her and the woman, politely smiling just moments earlier, snarled,
“Not even a freaking thank-you . . .”
“Um, excuse me?” I asked.
She turned, startled, and with a little hesitation and a swipe at her ebony hair was all-smiles again. “Oh hello, sir. Can I help you?”
“I’m kinda late—”
“—That’s very unfortunate, sir.”
If she only knew what an understatement that was. “Yeah. And with the rain, I was wondering if I could get a taxi?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid all taxis in the city have been recalled
due to vandalism.”
“All of them?”
“That is what I said. If you’ll excuse me, sir”
She strutted past me without another word, as I stood struck dumb. No taxis? But if there were no taxis, how was I supposed to …
All of a sudden I heard a cough and I turned. The officer stood, smiling in a clearly forced manner.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” With that she bowed deeply, exaggeratedly, and I was tempted to physically force her upright.
“Have a nice day, sir.” She injected the ‘sir’ again with some unreadable emotion and, having said that, rocked upright and walked away, leaving behind a disgusting aftertaste.
Come to think of it, that ‘sir'—she had repeated it the whole time. Was that her idea of banter? No, she was definitely making fun of me for some reason. The police force had to be desperate to let someone like her into its ranks.
Damn it, I didn’t have time for this.
I checked my watch: 12:00. I had to go, and I had to go now. With the taxis out of commission and no other way of getting there (if only my parents weren‘t on vacation for the summer), I had only one option left and knowing it. my feet wept.
With one last easy breath, I dove out from underneath the canopy and ran.
In seconds I was soaked, the thin cotton of my shirt doing little to protect me, and the chill bit into my bones with all the force of a dozen German Shepards. The only fortunate thing was that since I knew a few shortcuts and didn‘t have to worry about traffic, I might get there even faster than in a taxi.
But then. in a taxi, I’d be warm, dry, and my legs would be blissfully relaxing.
It really wasn’t a fair exchange.
I will say one thing about running though. Having nothing else to do, my brain was forced to work, and that was when I began to think. The taxis were recalled; the trains were running late; and my alarm clock had broken in the night, only presumably because of a storm. Couple that with Kino’s strange appearance at the station and even though I didn’t believe in secret plots (or at least, not anymore) it all seemed overly coincidental to me. Granted, bad things came in threes, but then what about Kino? She was the one factor I couldn’t quite make out.
Was she trying to stop me?
No, that wasn’t right. She may not have wanted me to go, but she didn’t have to say it in the first place if she didn’t intend to let me go. Besides, she was only one person. There was no way she could do all of that.
But then …
Last I checked, there was only one person who could bend machines to her will, by her will. There was only one person who could have implanted a subconscious desire in Kino to see me, which could have made me leave the train to try and make amends. Of course, she’d been inactive the last time I checked too, but wasn’t that the nature of a volcano? To undergo periods of dormancy before the big eruption?
No. I shouldn’t be stupid. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t.
But if it were? Not only possible, but definite? If it were her trying to stop me …
Wouldn’t that be because she didn’t want to see me there?
I picked up speed, the pain in legs suddenly vanished, as thunder rumbled through the skies.
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It's amazing how you lose all sense of time when you run. I couldn’t tell you what happened in that time between the station and North High, but it seemed to pass in the flip of a page. I nearly passed over the foot of the hill when I finally arrived, barely registering it in the corner of my mind in time to stop.
I did stop though, and instantly my knees buckled. I would have collapsed entirely into the puddle if I hadn’t reached out with my arm to manage a crouching position. I gasped, my burning throat sucking down air wildly, and waited for it to subside. I really needed to get in shape.
Eventually I caught my breath and, standing, I turned to the hill I still had to climb. My legs of course were completely against it, but it wasn‘t like there was another way. Slowly, I started to walk. Five years and despite the initial complaint, my legs easily adjusted to the climb. If I hadn’t already been exhausted, the climb probably wouldn’t have been any trouble at all. Then again, three years of going up and down was enough to build up a memory in anyone’s legs, just like how an old dog intuitively knew the way home after years of making the same rounds.
By the time I reached the top, the storm had gotten closer. The wind picked up, whipping the branches of the tree into a frenetic dance, and the clouds thundered like an overly exuberant drummer close to my ear, slamming the skins with all her might.
Maybe it was because of this that I didn’t notice at first.
I opened the gates, really having to push due to wind resistance, and once in quickly stepped aside, the gate snapping shut behind me with a loud clang.
I could hardly believe it, but I was here.
Feeling out of place, I merely stood and looked up at it for a moment. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, really. Time went on; I knew that. I knew that new students would come in my place. I knew that they would walk the halls in which I had walked, learn in the classrooms in which I had learned, but make different jokes and play different music when they thought the teachers wouldn’t catch them listening.
But the idea of the school itself changing—that had never occurred to me.
There was a new wing on one side, and what appeared to be new windows and new doors. An equally new sign posted the directions to the Tsuruya Garden in the back (at least that one made sense—the richer families did tend to donate to the school after their students graduated and I had heard that Miss Tsuruya had planned to follow suit eventually). Even the color looked somewhat off, though whether that was because of a malfunction of memory or an actual new coat of paint, I wasn’t sure.
I couldn’t explain it, other than saying it didn’t feel right. Maybe if more time had passed, it wouldn’t be so surprising. In twenty years, I’d expect, maybe even want things to be different just as a sign that I had grown. In five years however, when I still remembered everything so clearly, it just felt wrong. My memories felt like the end-all, be-all; to think that in such a short time, they had all been made obsolete …
But then, that was life. It continued and changed whether we were there to note it or not, existing as normal outside of our limited scope.
Lightning finally caught up with its friends, wrenching me from my nostalgia.
Rubbing water out of my eyes, I walked towards the entrance. There weren’t any signs of festivities, but that wasn’t surprising. I was probably the only one too stupid to have not checked the weather and the events had probably already been set up indoors.
I pulled the door—and felt the slam of bolt against metal vibrate through my hand. It couldn‘t be stuck, could it? The lights were off and there wasn’t a sign, but this was the main door. It had to be unlocked, even if the event itself were elsewhere.
But, no matter how I pushed and pulled, the door wouldn’t open.
I spotted a doorbell—another thing that must have been installed since I graduated—and rang it to no avail. No one was in the main office or the foyer, though there was no reason for someone to be.
But so what if the door was locked? If the event was anywhere, it was in the auditorium. I would just have to try the door there.
I made my way without hesitation, but a dark little question nestled in my mind. Why weren’t there any signs? Again, the lack of decorations wasn’t odd, but not even a note on the main door? Had the wind knocked it down? Considering it was strong enough to blow away Fuji, I doubted a little piece of paper would be able to withstand.I’d have to remember to tell someone when I got to the auditorium, not that anyone else was likely to be later than I was.
It wasn’t far to the auditorium from the main door, for which I quickly thanked whoever had designed this place. The storm was only now hitting its peak and I needed to get indoors fast before I discovered what could possibly be worse than this monsoon.
But when I got near, something struck me. The wind was howling and the thunder was deafening, but I was close enough to the door that I should have heard something, maybe even have spotted some lights from the windows.
Yet underneath the soundtrack of the storm, I head nothing. No shouts from
reunited friends, no muted music, no laughter.
There was nothing at all, and when I tried the door I almost wasn’t surprised to see that it refused to budge.
I swiped at my bangs, glued flat to my forehead from the adhesive property of the rain, and, turning, crouched down to sit on the doorstop. I couldn’t have gotten the date wrong. I mean, theoretically it was possible, but it wasn’t the type of thing I would do. It was definitely not the type of thing Kino would do either, and even when speaking only theoretically, the chances of us both mistaking it for the same day was low. Was I too late? I lifted my other wrist from my pocket and checked the time. No, it should still be going on. I was late, no doubt about it, but not that late. Had it been called off or moved somewhere else? I had RSVPed rather late. Three weeks was definitely enough time to warn someone though, wasn’t it?
Removing all of those, there was only one option left.
There had never been a reunion in the first place.
The clock, the trains, the taxis, Kino—they were all just coincidences, or perhaps fate trying to spare me from my own idiocy.
Maybe it’d been a prank. That made a sort of sense. Anyone who had read my stories knew what city I lived in and where I graduated. Maybe it was as simple as some bored teenager with nothing better to do.
Though really, did it even matter?
I turned and flattened my back against the wall, the ceiling ledge being the only nearby protection from the rain. It didn’t matter—I couldn’t do anything about it. The fact was that today, here, now, there was no reunion. After all of this, after all my worrying, I was alone, trapped in a summer storm, and all for nothing.
But wouldn’t it have been for nothing anyway? It was supposed to be for nothing, just to soothe the part of my mind that ached for closure. There was no way they’d ever come. Again, the facts were simple.
Nagato? Back with the Data Integration Thought Entity, however that would work considering the genuine person she had become. She probably never would have gotten an invitation.
Miss Asahina? Back with her own family, in her own time. She’d be another case where the invitation would have been stamped “Return to Sender”.
Koizumi? Back with . . . whom? For the sake of parallelism, he had to be with someone, but as he had been in high school, he was the one enigma here. There was a slight chance he would come to something like this but why would he? He had never had the chance to get to know many of our classmates, having played the mysterious transfer student for all those years. The only reason I could see him going would be to see me, but given the extent of Esper connections, he could have done that any time he wanted.
And then, there was her.
I should have known. I had known, and yet as if just being back in town could send me back to the days where I had to worry about the universe crashing any second, I had allowed myself to think otherwise. She’d never have come to one of these things, not in a million years. She’d content herself with her own connections, since anyone she probably wanted to keep in contact with she probably already did. Or would she have come, for the laugh or to pull a stunt like she always did?
Maybe, if it wasn’t for me. No, she wouldn’t go, just to avoid me. I had only hoped otherwise, like an idiot.
I pulled my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees in a pathetic attempt to keep warm. All in all, it was for the best, really. This was a test run from the gods and a necessary one. Now I knew that I couldn’t be trusted to put what I should do over what I wanted to do. I would have liked better weather conditions, but otherwise, this was a good thing.
It only felt like a horrible one.
I wonder what she even looks like now . . .
“Well, then. You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”
I turned in the direction of the voice, only now hearing the clicking of a pretty but snarling woman's boots on wet pavement. She was wearing a long wool coat as black as her hair over a light colored tank top and Capri pants now, but she was still instantly recognizable.
The surprise in my voice was evident:
“Officer?”
“I mean,” she continued, ignoring me as she twisted a red umbrella steadily in her right hand, “first we delay the trains. Then we hold back the taxis. When they told me to come anyway, I thought the higher-ups were batshit.”
Wait.
“You?”
“Yet, here you are; a stubborn little monkey swinging through the storm.” She was in front of me now, maybe only an arm's length away, and crouched down to meet my eyes. “Look down.”
“Why should I?”
Her free hand reached into an inside pocket of the coat and pulled out a smooth, silver handgun as an answer.
“Look down, sir.”
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Major thank yous and unending waves of gratitude to
rockeandroll and asfroste, for being spectacular betas of awe and might.Trying to keep this short so it can go up tonight, so, until we meet again, guys!
For Chapter Three, click here.
Current Music: Yoko Kanno - "Shiro"
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