Chapter Text
Silence is coming. The woman’s voice repeats.
The world around us is in ruin. The area looks familiar but not anywhere I’ve lived, but then it’s a dream. It could be anywhere, and it’s not as if skyscrapers are unique to one particular city. They’ve had them in several cities I’ve visited for races in this past year.
There she is though.
Hanging in the sky. I can make out a short, flared, pleated skirt and a white bodice with a bow across the chest. The color of the bow matches the skirt, and her wavy hair hangs down to her shoulders based on the shadow, but either her hair is black or it, as her face, is just obscured by the shadow. I make out the glint of something on her forehead here and there. Her hands are clasped together as she pleads, not with her mouth but her mind.
Silence is coming. Find the talismans. Find the—
“Haruka!”
I jolt as Elsa puts a hand on my shoulder and manage the very coherent, “Huh?”
“You were dreaming something—I thought you might scream the look on your face.” She purses her lips, “Not a good thing to do on a plane.”
It takes me a moment to follow what she said because she’s speaking English. English only on the plane was the rule, because most Europeans speak English, not Japanese, and Elsa doesn’t know Italian, just English, Japanese and Spanish.
“Right.” I muster, shaking my head out, the dream fades, thankfully, even though it’s not the first time I’ve had it, I can push it back, as usual, “Sorry about that.”
She gives a slight smile, hand on my arm. Her brown eyes show concern, and when she shakes her head her red hair covers her face for a moment, “Not your fault if your brain is being evil. I get nightmares before races sometimes—all the stress to perform. Other times I just can’t sleep at all.”
I give myself a moment to make sure I’ve processed what she’s saying correctly, “I don’t know if it’s the race—”
She smiles and then seemingly self-conscious removes her hand from my arm and rests back in her seat, stretching her back and lets out a sigh.
The plane is dark. We were booked on a mostly overnight flight, given the four hour layover we had in China. We’ll arrive in Italy first thing in the morning.
“Did I disturb your sleep?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, “I can’t sleep when I travel, which, like I said half the time I can’t sleep before a race anyway.” She pulls her bag out from under her seat and retrieves a book and a small reading light, “Will I disturb you with this?”
“I don’t know if I’ll get back to sleep anyway.”
I’m wrong. I do. Thankfully it’s a dreamless one.
I’m woken by the plane banking a turn. There’s a faint glint of light underneath the window shade. Elsa has fallen asleep, her book having fallen down, resting on her feet, pages partially moving as the plane turns. She’ll have to regain her place.
The pilot makes an announcement in Chinese and then English letting us know we’ll be arriving at the airport soon. The lights flicker on, and the stewards and stewardesses begin coming around with the paperwork we filled out at the beginning of the flight that has to be handed in at the terminal to verify what type of visa we’re traveling in on.
I nudge Elsa awake before they get to us, and she grumbles about the book on her feet, before putting it away, and raising up the tray table on her seat and adjusting her seat belt which reminds me I need to fasten mine once more.
The stewardess who comes by us checks those seat belts before handing us our forms. Elsa asks her for recommendations of a place off terminal to get breakfast and they have a quick discussion before she heads on to the next passengers.
Elsa yawns, which makes me yawn, “What do you think?” she asks, “Time Café sounded good, or maybe Natoo, Time Café might be busy busy being in the airport.”
I shrug, “Aren’t we being picked up?”
She grins, “We can ask them to stop somewhere, can’t we?”
“I suppose.” I say, slipping back into Japanese.
“Uh-uh.” She wags a finger at me.
I repeat what I said in English.
She makes a grumbly face, “Way to commit.”
I sigh, “I appreciate…that the stewardess likes the place. It does sound promising. I’m just not sure I’m hungry right now.”
“Ah.” She says, pushing her American accent stronger, “You know breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“So, they say.”
The captain comes back over the speaker system saying that we’re approaching the landing, and that local time is 7:30AM so to make sure we adjust any watches so that we stay in sync.
I stretch my legs, and Elsa follows suit, yawning again. This time I’m able to stifle mine and hope I’m not too obvious in gripping the handles of my seat as the plane turns more sharply and my ears pop with the descent. The sound of the engines whining makes me grit my teeth. I suppose it’s the lack of control that makes me nervous. When I’m driving or having flying lessons, I’m the one in charge. I know when things are coming. I know what to expect. This is trusting someone I don’t know with my well-being.
“You know the pilot has years of training, right?” Elsa says to me.
I guess I wasn’t as subtle as I thought. I make a non-committal noise.
“And they’ve done this hundreds of times.”
The plane bumps down and then the engines whine even louder as they combat the forward motion of the plane to make sure that we slow down enough to go into taxiing and arrive at the terminal able to stop. As Elsa inferred everything goes smoothly and I relax my grip on the arms of the seat. Elsa giggles at me, and I ignore her by moving so that I can pull the bags we have from the overhead bin.
“Well, you’re a tall drink of water.” A man’s voice comes from the opposite side of the aisle.
“Tall enough to drown you.” I tell him.
Elsa giggles again, “Haruka—you’re being rude.”
“Like with like.” I tell her.
The airport is bustling even for this early in the day. We’ve gone through customs and picked up our suitcases, and now we head out to the main concourse. There’s a rope at the exterior and several people with signs.
“This way.” Elsa says, pointing. She’s the first to spot the “Gray Tenou” sign which is being held by Kaito the running team PR assistant. He’s wearing a baseball cap and has sunglasses hanging from his shirt pocket. I follow her through the crowd towards him. He’s been here a few days already making connections and making sure everything’s okay between the sports event that Elsa and I are both competing in and the racing event I have a few days later.
“Hi!” he calls waving to us as we get closer, “The car is waiting.”
“Can we get food first?” Elsa asks, “I’ve heard there’s a great place called Natoo near here.”
Kaito laughs, “Sure.” He says, then references the team nutritionist, “I bet Camila will be glad that you guys are getting a healthy breakfast.”
Elsa nudges me at that, and I shake my head.
“By the way, we’ve arranged a public appearance or two for you while you’re here. There’s a gallery nearby that’s having an exhibition, and one of the artists is giving a concert that evening.”
I’ve long since resigned myself to these things happening, and at least this isn’t some kind of photo shoot. Those are always long and annoying.
“What type of concert?” I ask.
“She’s a violinist.” Is all Kaito gets out before we’re at the car and loading things in to the trunk.
“Violinist and artist?” Elsa asks, “That wouldn’t be Kaiou Michiru? That would just be crazy.”
“Kaiou Michiru?” I query, “Japanese? Or--?” she could be a European or American with Japanese heritage, I suppose, but the way Elsa organized her name…
“Yes.” Elsa nods, “I think she’s from Yokohama.”
No way. That’s where I’ve been living since I moved from Ashikaga. Kaito hasn’t answered the question because he’s busy talking with our driver, probably letting him know about the change in destination, for the time being.
Once we’re in the car Elsa repeats her question about whether or not the violinist and artist is Kaiou Michiru, which it apparently is.
“That’s awesome!” Elsa enthuses, “You’ll love her.” She explains to me, “I haven’t seen any of her artwork yet, but I’ve been to a couple of her concerts, and ran into her at a swim meet last year. She’s an amazing swimmer, and really sweet.”
“You’ve met her?” I ask.
“Oh, yes!” Elsa says, “We’ve spoken a few times. A lot of multi-talents would have big egos but she’s very down to earth, which is a good quality, ne?” she nudges me again.
“English only.” I remind her.
She snorts, “I was giving you a compliment, and that’s what you take away.”
“Let’s just get breakfast.” I tell her.
Natoo is very quaint. It’s a bit of a buffet, quick stop, which is fine. It means the food is fast, and they have smoothies which is fine. I don’t want to try Italian coffee just yet. Kaito and the driver do get coffees and we all eat what seems to be the Italian version of what Elsa calls a “breakfast burrito”, which is something she’s gotten from some American place called Taco Bell before. She says if we ever get to go to America we should try it. I just nod and smile, half the American food she talks about sounds heavy and disgusting and she’s even said as much before, comparing it to Japanese food.
We take in some of the sights, and Elsa points out a wall covered in posters of Kaiou Michiru. She has shoulder length wavy hair, and is posed, violin under chin, in a pale pink dress with a thick red ribbon tied around her middle almost like an obi. The background is ocean waves, a copy of a painting and I can almost hear them crashing against the cliffs.
At first glance she looks relaxed, in the zone of playing, but there’s an almost gut punch watching the picture as we walk past it where she instead looks melancholy and tired. The Silence is coming. I can’t understand the Italian on the poster, and none of my companions can translate. Elsa does get out an Italian-English dictionary she picked up at one of the local shops, but I tell her we should move on before we hold up the other people meandering around the streets.
When it’s finally time to check in at the hotel I make sure to call the racing team contact to let them know I’ve arrived and clarify when I’m going to meet with them to review the car and track for the competition.
We eat dinner at the hotel restaurant after going over outfits to wear for the events. Kaito has both dresses and suits for me, and in the end we agree that I can wear an open blouse and slacks to the gallery and a suit to the concert. Elsa is wearing slacks and a blouse to the gallery as well. She has a brooch and earrings that match it well, and the concert she’s going to wear a green dress to. We’re attending together with Kaito and Coach Moriyama.
It’s sometimes hard to fall asleep in new places, but I’m very glad that Elsa doesn’t snore as we’re sharing accommodation. She turns to me as we lay down and gives me the once over.
“You’re doing okay?” she asks.
I nod, “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” she asks, “There’s a lot of times lately you’ve been more distant than normal.”
I shrug at that, “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t know what to say, don’t know what to say? or aren’t sure about English?” she asks.
“I don’t know what to say. I don’t feel like I’ve been any different.” Which is a total lie. These dreams have been driving me crazy, but I don’t know how to explain that to Elsa in either English or Japanese and nor do I want to.
“Okay,” she says, softly, and rolls over away from me.
I lay on my back for a while spread out like a starfish, and just focus on breathing, in and out, in and…out.
I’m looking down on the Earth from above. I look around at the chamber I’m standing in, the large open areas that are archways more than windows, the tile floor, marbling and shiny. The laughter and chatter behind me. I’m craning further looking back away from the Earth trying to catch sight of something but I’m not sure what. I can’t remember what was happening before I feel like I should have let the scene play out but now I’m aware of the dream and it’s too late.
“You’re all by yourself.” A voice behind me says, and I turn to look at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
She’s wearing a flowing teal dress which matches her shoulder length wavy hair perfectly. There are ruffles in the long skirt, and a ribbon trailing behind her. It reminds me of pictures you might see in textbooks about the Victorian era. There are gold accents, and two layers of beads around her neck which look like pearls. There are gold clips in her hair that look like seashells.
I can’t speak, at first, and she giggles, “Mau got your tongue?”
I shake my head, “Not really.” I say, my voice sounds different, the accent—I can’t place it though. I feel as though we’re not speaking Japanese to each other, but yet I can understand the language, “I just became breathless for a moment.”
She giggles, again, “Maybe the shield is failing we should call an emergency check.”
“Maybe you caught my breath.” I tell her instead.
“Oh!” she counters, “Maybe you’re an incorrigible flirt. I’ve heard about you.”
“You have?” I ask her.
Her words are stolen by the phone ringing. I’m snapped back to the reality of the hotel room, but I’m relieved, that dream was much nicer than the ones I’ve been having lately, as Elsa stirs in the other bed and picks up the phone before I can reach for it I realize my brain stole the image of Kaiou Michiru to put into the dream. How dare!
It’s not as if Michiru isn’t good to look at, the contrary, realizing that does take my breath for a moment.
“Ugggggggh.” Elsa complains, “Kaito asked for us to have a wake-up call. How rude.”
“Long day.” I point out, “The gallery is just before lunch time, and several hours. We’ll only have a couple to change before the concert.” I don’t care that I’ve slipped into Japanese. It’s early. The dream is fading, but I can still see her face as she laughed.
“Fine. Fine.” Elsa says, ignoring my linguistic transgression, “Do you want to shower first or shall I?”
“Go ahead.” I tell her, as I go find clothes to put on for breakfast so there’s no risk of staining the clothes for the exhibition, and set them aside. I do some stretches and easy exercises that hopefully don’t disturb the people below us, and then when Elsa comes out of the bathroom clothed but with a towel wrapped around her hair. We switch places.
The shower takes a moment to warm up, and I find myself zoning out staring at the water. I can hear roaring waves and almost see sand. I shake myself out. Maybe the universe is telling me I should get back to the beach to relax once I’m in Japan again.
It’s not long before I’m out of the shower, getting dressed, and heading down to breakfast with Elsa.
“I always love races where we get to compete against each other.” Elsa remarks.
“Oh?” I ask.
She nods, “You push me to be faster.” She says, “I always strive to beat you. What motivates you?”
I have to think of something to say that isn’t I’m both trying to run away from and catch up to whatever this dream is. The idea of the destruction terrifies me, but I’m also wanting to get to the bottom of why I’m dreaming that, and now why the woman with Kaiou Michiru’s face seemed so comforting to see.
“I just want to keep improving.” I lie.