Chapter 7: The Patience of Angels
Sleep is for the weak.
A temporary death for those unable to accept eternity.
You shouldn't be like them--you're better than that.
I haven't forgotten.
And neither have you.
You just need to wake up.
And I know just what to do to help.
You always did like animals.
Her heart wasn't beating quite right.
Something was amiss that she wasn't quite aware of.
Hikaru didn't like it. She couldn't sleep soundly.
Even worse, she couldn't dream.
Or was she dreaming she wasn't dreaming?
It wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen to her.
"Umi, are you going out?" Erika Ryuuzaki asked her daughter.
"Yes, mother." Umi was dressed to the nines.
She sighed softly as her mother walked away, smiling as usual.
{It's not like I have anything better to do here.}
Her parents were still quite concerned about her. She wished they
weren't. They meant well, but she didn't like being pressured.
If they tried to introduce her to any more of their friends' sons,
she would simply scream. Umi had nothing against the young gentlemen, but
she wasn't looking to settle down anytime soon.
Even though she didn't have any plans for doing otherwise, which
annoyed her to no end.
"No need to hurry," they would tell her, though it seemed to her
that they preferred she marry sooner rather than later.
At least none of her friends were married yet or she'd hear no end
of it.
As they checked into their hotel, Aya and Kouji were never apart for
more than a split second.
He felt her head rest on his shoulder and pulled her closer.
"Kouji-san..." she whispered sweetly. Her heart beat with a quickening
pulse, little knowing that a little death could be a dangerous thing.
Tokyo Tower. An unmistakable landmark of this city. The red and
white frame was more than a tourist attraction, however. It was a door to
other Worlds, but precious few had the keys needed to enter.
One of them now stood on the peak, seemingly unseen though in plain
sight. Her golden-brown hair shone in the winter sunlight more than her
glasses would have.
"I think it's time to tell her I'm here."
She smiled softly and leapt from the top of the tower and fluttered
to the ground. The wind was hers to command like a magnificent stallion, or
to let loose like a stampede of wild horses.
For a time she walked the streets, not even bothering to hover a few
inches above the snow.
Anemone spied her prey: Someone's discarded mongrel pet walking along
the gutters. Her blade was quite thirsty.
A slight flick of her wrist was enough to send a cutting slash into
the dog's side. Incisions finer than any solid instrument could make were
etched onto now-frozen skin.
Pale-pink snow now fell upon the streets as blood sprayed into
frozen mist.
"This should do nicely," she said, leaving behind the now-bloodless
corpse. Snow like sakura petals lingered on, held aloft by divine winds.
And the kanji for "Hikaru" burned bloody red against cold canine
flesh.
The Wind of Death sang to the Tree of Life, urging it to shed its
branches.
Life springs eternal only because of such meticulous pruning,
removing dead weight, leaving behind healthy limbs.
Some branches have been more successful than others on their own.
In which case they need to be burned into ashes to feed the Tree.