Hullo. You might remember my testfics from two months ago. You know. The 
series where I release the fic and you guess what series it's from. 
Well, here's a new one. I'd said I'd continue with the series if I have 
time, and now that I do, here it is.

This manga series belongs to its owner. Let's see how obscure a fanfic 
can get. (You'll never guess the series in ten thousand years!)

SeventhOne
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The Country of Twilight

A child took a trip by train. There, he met a kind-eyed old couple.

Sally woke to the loud clacking of the subway's wheels rolling over the 
dividers in the track. It wasn't unpleasant, though, more like a 
heartbeat than anything else, even if it was slightly metallic. 
She liked it. Normally she would let herself feel the shaking of the 
cart with each clack, waiting for her heartbeat to match the noise. And 
then she could feel. She could feel what the cart was feeling, if it 
could feel. She could see what it could see, hear what it could hear.
Today it was different though. She couldn't feel the shaking, only 
hearing the sound. It felt strange, and so she opened her eyes. 
She wasn't in the subway anymore. 
The seats were in rows instead of just against the walls; large, soft 
seats facing each other past the views of the windows. The entire 
compartment appeared to be furnished in wood, but with very simple 
design, making it look at once elegant and plain, as well as somewhat 
old fashioned.
"This is . . . a train," she said to no one in particular. "Strange. I 
fell asleep on a subway."
Smoothing the wrinkles in her school uniform, she turned and put her 
face against the window, attempting to look out. Utter black.
"Is this a dream?"
Footsteps. She turned, her short hair swinging a bit as she did.

"There, he met a kind-eyed . . ."

A boy, about her age, came down the aisle and sat down across from her. 
She looked at him, unsure what to do. He looked kind enough.
He smiled at her.
"Where are you going?"
"Me?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Um . . ." She held her schoolbag slightly closer to her. "I think, um, 
I took the wrong train . . ."

"Where does this train go?"
 
"Where does this train go?"

. . . he asked.
The old couple answered him.

"The country of Twilight," he answered.
Sally stopped. The clacking of the wheels continued.
I must've hit my head somewhere. This has got to be a dream.
"What's the country like?" The country of Twilight
"You don't know?"
"Um . . ." This has got to be a dream.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No . . . what's the country like?"

"That is the place where the those with nowhere else to go end up."

"It's where the homeless go," he said.
This has got to be a dream, for the country of Twilight is only a place 
. . .
"The home of the abandoned. The country of the lost."
. . . in a storybook I read when I was a child.
"Really?" she asked.
And as in this dream, I cannot return home. . . . No. I don't want to 
return home.
"There's nobody on this train," she said.
"Hmm? It's all full."
"I can't see them."
"You can't see them because you don't need to."
"Then how come . . ." . . . I can see you?
. . . but I feel that . . . I can trust this person. I think I can. He's 
like the old couple in the story . . . his eyes. His eyes are warm.
"Why don't you return home?"

. . . the couple asked the boy.
And the boy answered . . .

"Someone I loved . . . died."

The boy had begun traveling in order to search for his parent, both of 
which were dead.

Sally smiled a bit.
"Actually he died ten years ago."
There was a small laugh from her as she said this, somewhat sad; it was 
the laugh of someone who could not cry.
"He fell sick when I was four, and he died a month later."
". . . but your mother . . ."
"She's well. She's regained the will to live, and she's working again."
There was a moment of silence while the train's wheels continued their 
clacking.
". . . Then all's well. You can still return home . . . can't you?"
Silence. Sally's expression strickened, she clenched her fist, and stood 
up.
"I . . . No! Who says I'm going home?!" So called . . . family! "I hate 
my mother! No, not just mother. I hate my new father, and I hate my 
brother for being nice to him! I hate them! I hate every one of them!"
She stopped for a moment to let it sink in.
". . . Your new father. He doesn't treat you well?"
Her features softened again, and she sat back down and sighed.
"They . . . They pick on me for the smallest things, all because I 
didn't want them to marry . . . and my brother . . . He's just an idiot 
. . . He doesn't even remember my father."
She stopped again, looking at her folded hands, not noticing the sadness 
on the boy's face.
"Everyone just thinks for themselves . . . and only I bother to remember 
. . ."
She raised her face.
"And perhaps my father remembers me."
The boy smiled.
"Do you remember what your father looks like?"
". . . Maybe . . . I don't know."
"Why?"
"He changed a lot while he was sick, and we don't have any photos."
"I see . . ."
There was an especially loud clack.
"All I remember is that no matter how fragile his body was, he was as 
strong as he used to be inside. Just as strong as before, just as kind. 
Never once did he tell us how painful he was. Never once did he 
complain."

Tearfully, the little girl hugged her father's hand to her face.
"Daddy. You'll get better soon, won't you? Daddy!"
"Yes, Sally. I will. I'll get well real soon, and we'll go to a play 
together, okay?"

"Never once."

"We'll go to your favorite play. The Country of Twilight."

He was the one who first read that story to me.
Ironic that I should be like that child was then now. Ironic that I 
should feel the same feelings as he did.

*Clack*Clack*Clack*Clack*Clack*Clack*Clack*Clack*Clack*
"I want . . . to see him again." That's why I took this train.
"You can meet him . . . if you never leave this train."

And the old man said . . .

"But you'll never meet your family again . . ."
Sally's eyes widened in shock.

". . . never return home."

The clacking sound appeared to become louder.
"Of course, it doesn't matter. You hate your family anyway."

Do you know . . .

She crouched over, trembling, her face down, eyes shut. She clenched her 
fists together again.
". . . very . . . good . . ."

. . . what the child said then?

". . . happiness . . ."

I can't remember.

". . . Don't have to see their faces again . . ."

Why?

". . . happiness . . ."

Why can't I remember?! Why can't I remember something so simple?!

She lifted her head, tears streaking the sides of her face.
The boy closed his eyes.
"I've told you before . . ."

It's only been ten years!

"Only the abandoned and the lost can go to the country of Twilight. You 
can't go ~"
"No . . . No! . . . Please-Please! . . . Bring me . . . Bring me with 
you! Please! Because . . . if you don't . . . I'll live a 'happy life,' 
and forget . . . forget about my father! . . . Everything! Everything 
I've said are lies. My mother and my stepfather are nice to me, way too 
nice. I'm the one at fault! Not them! I'm the one who scolds her every 
day for forgetting father! I'm the one who can't forgive her for 
remarrying. I'm the one! I'm the one . . ."

She held her face in her hands.
"I can't remember my father's face . . . It's only been ten years, and 
the memories are already gone. It's as if I were forgetting a sketch in 
the storybook . . ."

What did the boy say? What did the old couple say to the boy?
What?

The boy turned to the window, from which a bright light now entered the 
compartment.
"Look outside."
And she did.

Outside was a field of grass in the twilight sun.
"Only we can get off at the last stop," said the old man. 

"Leave this train," said the boy. "Your world is outside."

The train stopped, and the old couple watched as the child stepped off. 
The place where he was was his home, and when he turned to bid farewell, 
the train was already gone.
The child couldn't help but look in the direction the train had left, 
and when he did, he heard their last words to him.
"Find your happiness."

In the embrace of her mother, Sally replied.
"I will, father."

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C&C needed. Thanks.

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