01 / 04 / 2019 - Daito, Prefecture Osaka, Japan.
One day later, 12 AM, Akane's Room.
Dim red and ash peer through the narrow windowsill, looking at the silence of the outside world — again, very much like a ghost town.
Hands grasped the edge of the soft, silky curtain, pushing it slightly to gain a better panoramic view of the scenery, while the other hand held the handle of the open window.
The windy, chilling breeze carried an ashen smell, perhaps the cinder of what has been burned through and through, the memory of what once existed in the centre of the city.
'The powerless will lament their fate as they are burning or being ravaged in agony, leaving nothing but a distant scream that echoes.'
'Silent yet unending.'
Is this the state of the world, or is it the inherent survival mechanism amidst life itself? Isn't this basically just a competition where the chanceless receive nothing on their end?
"What am I saying. To take your own chance with your own hands, no?"
The world keeps spinning, and life will continue its progress towards death; neither wants to wait for the other, so keep going is your only choice, isn't it?
He shook his head and pulled his hands back to close the window, as the chilling breeze that had ruffled his hair and the strands blocking his eyes finally stopped.
Standing still for a moment, he turned his head to look to the left of the desk, precisely at its clean, neat surface.
His lips pursed as his body spun and approached the desk, his eyes reflected a piece of paper — his paper.
Looking at the writing on the piece of paper, he is silent once again, like a statue, head lowered to accommodate the words written there.
'I won't die, I promise.'
Said silently in his heart, he closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh before he finally moved on to other tasks. He won't regret it, nor will he stop for them.
Opening his eyes, he walked to the four crates lying beside the wardrobe at the end of his bed.
Stopping his feet and looking down, he crouched — a green weapon box, one of which had already been opened; the rifle that was once placed there was also gone.
But—
The corner of his mouth curved as his cold hands reached for the cold grip of a matte-black semi-automatic pistol.
"P226, huh?"
He has already done his research on this — from the anatomy, capability, and simple, limited accuracy and performance on paper.
'I hope you won't let me down.'
Raising it, he let his left hand hold the muzzle, inspecting its parts and trying to confirm his theoretical understanding of the gun.
Leaving one eye open, he tried a two-handed shooting stance while still crouching, aiming at the wall through the rear and front sights.
Trying various poses — lifting it to a certain angle, slightly tilting it to the right, bringing the back of his hand in a diagonal for the rear sight.
Standing still… until he let out a steady breath, took off his stance, and weighed it in one hand, nodding his head after he had a feel for it.
Lowering his head, he put the gun in the inner pocket of his jacket — not ideal, but acceptable for now.
Looking back at the crate once again, his left hand took 5 magazines and stuffed them into the waistband of his jeans and the empty inner pocket on the right.
Having done, feeling nothing at all, he stood up, with a sense of soreness in his knee.
Slowly turning his head to the left and right, inspecting the whole room — or perhaps just taking a moment to see it before he leaves for an indefinite time.
"Hahhhhh…"
A sigh for an unknown weight; he is ready, and so be it.
He walked to the door and took a last glance at his room before, eventually, after a while, facing the wooden door once again, grasping the handle, and pushing it silently.
Greeted by a corridor shrouded in darkness, with a little bit of light, his head lowered; his eyes did not capture any light from the room in front of him — his little sister's room.
'Good.'
She's asleep at the very least — at ease. His steps are lighter, and with an unchanging face, he closed the door behind him with a click.
But he had not taken into account whether they were asleep or awake, had he?
Close to the railing, as he gazed at the panoramic window covered by the curtain and the whole apartment enveloped in the same darkness, he heard a click behind him.
"Aka-nii?…."
It is the voice he least wants to hear tonight, and the most reluctant encounter he wants to avoid.
His body froze in his steps, and by instinct, mental calculation plus
The world slowed down in his perception as the computational process sped up; his hands still on the railing, his gaze still frozen and lifeless as he looked downwards.
What should he do? Avoid it, how? Why? Bluff? She is too smart for that — the least deceivable person in this household is her, after all, but…
'What if she is not in normal condition, then?'
Eyes flashed as he found the answer, then the light receded as everything fell back to its lifeless, dim gaze — all in a matter of moments, at the cost of momentary exhaustion.
He let out an unnoticeable sigh, his mouth agape ever so slightly, and with a throbbing temple, he turned his head back to the little girl in pyjamas approaching from the darkness.
She is wearing a loose pink sweatshirt and casual white shorts. Her hands are now rubbing her narrowed eyes, then moving down to her thin lips as she cannot contain her yawn.
Her silver-white hair is very messy, with many strands jutting out; the sky-blue eyes blurry and sleepy — just an accidental awakening, not a planned one, as he had thought.
"Can't sleep?"
He took the initiative to speak, trying to direct her back to sleep and end it before she noticed his outfit.
"Umm…."
"My throat is dry… nii-chan…"
She walks like a zombie, and in his gaze, she crashes into his chest, letting her weight fall to him and rubbing her head like a cat, her eyes half-lidded.
His back arched slightly as he lifted her weight, and looking down at her sleepy face — little devil is surely cute; there's a reason their mother was always very fond of her.
'She is simply irresistible,'
Which is why he is reluctant to deal with her tonight, acting normal to avoid her suspicion, though he very much doubts what passes as normal for him now.
And now, he is conflicted, his eyebrows drooped as he held her in his arms; she is practically dozing off, but—
'It's just a moment, right?'
He knows he doesn't have much time; the longer he stays, the more risk he takes, and if he is discovered, he will probably be locked up or grounded later.
But another part of him seems to pulsate, telling him — just for this once — 'I'll regret it later,' that's what he thought, so… he just has to do it and end this cleanly.
'It seems so hard….'
Yes, it is very hard, no?
He holds his breath, his right hand slides behind her knees as his body is lowered, then, with a smooth upwards motion, he lifts her body, shifting her weight towards his chest as he carries her.
Letting out a breath with a smile, he walks to her room slowly and pushes the door with his foot; the dark room comes into view as it opens easily.
Standing still for a moment — a pristine white room. Stepping inside, he lowered his eyes. She was still asleep, breathing softly, with a few strands covering her eyes.
Walking to the bed by the window, he lowered his body and knees, let her slide off his hands into the soft, messy bed; smiling, he did not stand up yet, ruffling her hair,
"Wait for a moment, okay?"
Then he stood up, turned, and walked out of the room, down the stairs to pick up a glass of water for her.
…
A minute later, Irina's room.
He watches from the edge of the bed on his knees as she gulps down the water.
Her eyes are still heavy as she, once in a while, leans forward, afraid to fall. He pushes her shoulders back each time.
Holding the empty glass in two hands above her lap, she dozed off once again as her head hung, her lips pressed into a wavy line, evoking a smile from him at the sight.
"Sleep well…"
He whispered softly, while his right hand took the empty glass and his left guided her shoulders into the soft bed. Resting on her side, she began breathing softly again.
Lips curved in a crescent along with his eyes, through the narrow slit, crimson gleaming luminously — perhaps approving his action.
Considering everything done, he should get going. With this thought, he set the glass on the desk and propped his hands on his knees to stand up…
"Mmm… stay…."
The smile froze on his face as his heart stopped beating for a moment, his eyes opened wide; lowering his gaze, a tiny hand grasped the hem of his jacket.
Lifting his head slowly to look at her face, her eyes still blurry, half-lidded, her eyebrows drawn together. This is trouble.
No hasty movement — he should stay low and patient.
"Yes…"
The smile receded as his knees stayed, a whisper drifting to her; her face stayed the same, but her mouth churned slightly agape.
"You know… why left us, me, nii-chan…"
His mind and heart calmed down at the same time, his eyes softened, but at the depth was an apology; his lips moved as if to answer, then ultimately closed again.
Only looking at her face in silence — she is still mumbling, just saying words in her sleep. In fact, she has fallen asleep.
"Aka-nii is so scared… he is… like a chicken… hihihih…."
The corner of her mouth upturned; perhaps she is reminded of a time when Ayato was alone without any of his help at all.
His right hand moved to stroke her hair, up and down. Despite being able to leave now, he did not — staying to listen to her, the voice buried beneath her all this time.
"I'm scared too…. When you were not awakened after 2 weeks…."
"We cried all day… and Aka-nii is locking himself up… in a room…"
"Perhaps…"
Her eyes twitched, a sign of warning flashed in his heart; he patted her hair and ruffled it calmly, not letting the panic take him down.
She tells her stories — going to school, painting — while her words sometimes disconnect, her voice going from a clear beginning to blurry.
"I want to help you too… so please don't leave me… and us…"
"You always want everything, no?… greedy…."
"Aka-nii is stupid… but he's worried… of you… Aya-nii, you'll stay right?… entrance ceremony…"
"Ummm…"
This time, he uttered a hum to her, which finally caused her eyes to slowly and fully close, mouth curved, her hands loosening.
Slipping — but before it, he caught her hands and tucked them under the blanket.
Patting her head one last time, he stood up decisively, turned his body, and walked to the door; again, he had the urge to look back towards her.
But he knows.
Every time he does this, it will hurt more — for him, for her, for everyone — so…
'This is my responsibility, after all…'
With this thought, lastly, he closed the door behind him slowly, leaving her with everything she needs, but not what she cherishes.
———
Four hours later, Osaka Castle, Inner Bailey, Courtyard.
"Haahhhh…"
Sweat trickled down from his hair to his cheeks as he regulated his breath.
His eyes are gazing at the now dark city; the burning skyscrapers have long died out, and the original inhabitants perhaps already fled or evacuated, but…
Instead of silence, there are many glimmers of light — which he is certain are not ordinary residents, as what fool would dare venture into a monster-inhabited place like this?
"Have they already started to clean the city?"
Between here and the apartment, he did not encounter even one of them, but since they are bustling in the main centre, they are probably stationed in Miyajima Ward now.
'Hmmm….'
Humming slightly, he lowered his eyelids, feeling the chilly morning breeze, and thought to himself — though it was still dark, in two hours the sun would rise.
Then again, the day for them to begin the Raid is tomorrow after all, not now, so probably they need to clear a plot of land and would enter simultaneously together across Osaka.
That's probably the reason, right? He hopes so.
Standing on the edge of the wall behind the stone castle, he overlooked the entire city for a moment — a moment of tranquility, which he always appreciated.
And again, as usual, he would stop when he felt it was enough — no more, no less.
He shook his head and turned to walk through the grass path without haste. The wind blew through, causing the leaves of the trees to rustle amidst the darkness.
Slowly, the grass path began to change into a concrete path. He is in the very back of the castle, walking in a short stride, thinking about something from earlier.
The corner of his mouth upturned slightly. Who could have guessed it?
"Throne room, eh?"
Looking to the side as his left hand grazed the blocky concrete, the rough surface tickled his skin in its own unique way.
Osaka Castle was destroyed in the Siege of Osaka, and by various combinations of unfortunate circumstances, left it unable to survive the ages to come.
Arriving at the front side after a while, he took his hands from his pocket, turned left, and ascended the steps into the main keep, Tenshukaku.
Later on, it was renovated and turned into a museum — also a landmark of Osaka.
'It should've been that way.'
His eyes narrowed as he entered the castle. In contrast to the ancient look of the outside, inside has a more modern feeling and style.
But—
He walked to the deepest parts, which did not even earn a glance from him — the real deal was what came next: the secret stairs down and more downwards than eyes can see.
Opening the door, there is nothing out of the ordinary; he descends into the basement of the Stone Wall Exhibition — this is the key.
Arriving in front of the stone wall illuminated by the light, he stands still for a moment, then rests his hands on an unassuming rock block no different from the others.
'Your abilities are certainly useful in this situation.'
Truly, spatial perception is a key to convenience; he watches as the modern floor suddenly opens and reveals another set of stairs below.
'This would be truly hidden if not for the Mist Gate's jumping activity, yeah.'
In a sense, he must thank it after all — walking down through the darkness for a while.
Until his vision cleared up on a closed square room, surrounded on all sides; it is not exactly a throne room, as he noted, since a tenshu would not normally have a throne room at all. Why does one exist here? What is the implication?
So why? Well, since there is an elevated tatami there and it looks like a formal place of a daimyo — something that resembles one but is not meant to be — regardless, he pays little attention to this architectural anomaly.
He gazed at the end of the hall surrounded by various sliding doors on its sides, an aura of ominousness and uncontained distortion of the "Passage" in front of him.
In the centre is the "Mist Gate" — his goal right now, that's all he needs, and that's all he wants.
Repeatedly closing his hands, he took a deep breath after standing still, his gaze impassive, choosing rationality over emotion that would override him; there is no one born ready for anything.
So…
He walked slowly, letting his body be enveloped by a strange mantle; his skin was tickled by a membrane that was absorbing, pulling towards the depths — and he had yet to enter the mist.
'It's growing…'
For sure it is; he surrendered his body. It did not crush or pressure him — gentle but stinging in sharpness that caused his eyes to wince as he proceeded into the mist.
Until he could feel the world churn; in front of him was truly a swirl. Up close, it was like a tornado built layer upon layer, and amidst his incredulous gaze —
It is a starry sky, twinkling; what is supposed to be in the sky is now imprinted inside this swirl. Too late — he is pulled, vision lost amidst the inside of what is small in diameter.
He is falling infinitely, no end in sight.
'Ahhh….'
He couldn't scream or anything, letting his body rotate as various parts of him blended into the space, but he persists.
And after a while of gritting his teeth, a loud thud.
CoughCoughCough
His body falls limp, unmoving, coughing sounds drifting amidst the silence around him, eyes half-lidded, blurry — must move, his instincts tell him.
'Not done yet…'
Everything around him is darkness; he can't make out any outline at all, but he is sure — he is not on Earth right now.
His body twitched, he struggled, hands moving to prop himself, as saliva and vomit dripped from the corner of his mouth; he couldn't control it after all.
Controlling his breath, he gritted his teeth amidst the disorientation and finally was able to stand.
Legs wide, hands propped on his knees,
"I succeeded…"
He mumbled, swaying slightly, and finally took his first steps.
But then—
"Ahhh…"
His upper body arched slightly, lowering his half-lidded eyes, blurry; he caught a glimpse of silver sticking through his jacket.
It's hot.
Eyes winced, clarity returned in a flash; he could feel a creaking sound behind him, a warm gush dripping through — red.
His mouth is churning, "Ahhh…" — it tastes metallic, rust, oozing from the corner of his mouth along with searing pain.