Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

The sun was burning brightly overhead before Andria and Yuta had both finished bathing. At some point before finishing his soak, Yuta realized they hadn’t brought any clean clothing with them. They both agreed that it would be safer if he were the one to return and beg for linens on their behalf. Even Andria knew that she couldn’t be trusted to have any alone time with Sakura, her mother. Already, the memories of their brief encounter, just hours prior, were driving her crazy. So, clean but draped in the same filthy garments he had previously been wearing, Yuta made his way down the path.

This allowed Andria an opportunity to bathe in peace and privacy. If only she could stop thinking. If only this were truly a dream. It was too much, too much change to cope with all at once. She reviewed the facts, or rather, the facts in question: Sakura was her mother. Probably true. The resemblance was uncanny. But more than that, something in her gut, an untouchable, gnawing impulse confirmed these presumptions. Alright, next fact: they had traveled back in time. The truth of this all hinged on the truth of whether or not Sakura was indeed her mother. If it was true, then it must also be true that they were somewhere in the past, because somewhere in the future, the future Andria knew, Sakura was very much dead. Next: Andria was a Dragon.

Andria splashed the warm water noisily. Maybe the noise would drive this ridiculous, uncomfortable, not to mention impossible thought from her mind. Yet it lingered. She felt silly for allowing the possibility to dance around in her mind. A month ago, had someone told her in seriousness that Dragons existed at all, she would have laughed. Had someone ventured further to say that she, herself was a Dragon? At that point she might have moved to have said person committed. Now, however. Now. She honestly wasn’t sure what she felt. The human within her reeled with feelings of absurdity and private embarrassment. How could she even consider it? But then again, Dragons were also a myth right? Just fairytale? If that could be true, hell, maybe she could be the b*****d spawn of a Dragon princess. Queen, she corrected herself.

A heavy, racking sigh escaped her lips, and her head disappeared beneath the soothing, warm water.

Yuta returned little over an hour later, his hands laden with bundles of cloth. Andria didn’t even notice him, so consuming were her thoughts, until Yuta broke the silence by shouting at her, “I’ve brought breakfast.”

Andria looked up at him from where she sat neck deep in murky water. She said nothing.

“I also brought clothes,” he continued, “so, if you want to change over here, I’ll take these,” he set the pile down on the stump and took from the top a bundle of brown fabric, “and change over there.” Yuta motioned towards a small clearing a little farther up the path.

Andria nodded indifferently. Her eyes roamed past him to rest on something apparently only she could see. Yuta gathered his bundle of clothing under one arm and began walking away.

“Wait,” Andria called after him. Yuta obediently stopped, turning back to her. The look in her eyes was troubled. “How are we going to get back?”

Yuta sighed and contemplated her for a moment, then replied calmly, “Let’s worry about that after breakfast.” Then, he turned and disappeared into the tree line.

Andria had difficulty changing into the clothes Yuta had given her. It was a kimono, the first she’d ever worn, or attempted to wear. It was white. Faint pictures of cherry trees in bloom were splayed across the silky fabric. This mattered very little, however, as she was utterly incapable of donning it properly. At first, she threw it on like a robe, tying it with one of four lengths of fabric brought along with it. This was a horrendous failure as the bottom dragged dangerously in the dirt, easily staining the white of the garment with mud, and the top gaped open rather inappropriately.

“Need help?”

The voice made Andria jump, even though she recognized it at once as belonging to Yuta. She looked scandalized, but after a moment’s careful consideration, she nodded in assent. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and her hands gripped the fabric around her neck, sealing it shut. In a moment, Yuta was in front of her, wearing a baggy brown shirt, tied closed at the waist with a leather sash, and matching brown trousers. His neckline dipped low, revealing only a small segment of his chiseled abs, but leaving his perfectly defined chest wonderfully exposed. 

Yuta’s hands reached out to tug at the edges of fabric Andria gripped so tightly. “Here,” he said, reassuringly, “Let me.”

Hesitantly, she released her hold on the fabric and extended her arms. Andria watched Yuta’s hands as he worked, folding fabric here, tucking some fabric there, every moment aware of how close he was to her, how he touched her gently, thoughtlessly as though he were dressing a doll.

The pain came when Yuta began tying the straps. “Ow!” she yelped as he tugged rather forcefully at the cord he’d secured around her waist, causing it to tighten like a noose.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “ They have to be pretty tight or the oobi won’t fit right.”

Andria grimaced as he tied the other two cords tightly around her waist. She imagined that this must have been what horses felt like once saddled.

The last remaining length of fabric was made of the same, silky fabric as her kimono, but pale pink. Yuta tied this around her torso much more gingerly. He spent several moments working in the back of her, tying an ornate bow.

“There,” he said at last, with a notable air of satisfaction. “Done.”

Andria smiled sheepishly.

They ate their breakfast from two wooden boxes Yuta had returned with. Sakura had sent them with him, fearing they might go hungry if they tarried much longer. Andria was extremely grateful for the slab of fish and meager portion of steamed rice. She took large mouthfuls at a time, attempting to assuage her aching, empty stomach. Once the small meal was nearly gone, however, Andria felt a sudden, urgent pang of regret. She envisioned Sakura toiling over a stove in a very mother-like manner, cooking fish, steaming rice, making her breakfast. The last time her mother had made breakfast for her, she had been too young to remember. What if this was the last meal she would make for her ever? Andria struggled to swallow the mouthful of rice sitting heavily on her tongue, faintly aware of the tear escaping one of her eyes. She quickly brushed it aside, glancing at Yuta to ensure that he had not noticed. He hadn’t. His mouth moved mechanically, his full concentration centered upon picking the last few grains of rice from the side of the box with his chopsticks.

Once both meals were finished, Yuta spoke. “So,” he offered casually, “how to get home.”

Andria wiped her mouth with the top of her hand, careful not to get any stains on her clothing. She said nothing in reply, but assumed he was going to offer some practical suggestion.

She was right. “If my theory is correct,” he began; Andria listened intently, “then something you did, perhaps something you were thinking or feeling triggered this.” He motioned to the air, meaning their unexplained travel to the past. “If we can figure out what triggered it,” he suggested, “we can probably recreate it, but in reverse order.”

Andria nodded dumbly. It all sounded like a bad science fiction novel to her, but then again, her whole life was becoming just that. “So first,” he sauntered on, “I really need to know what you were thinking just before everything went white.”

This time, Andria made an earnest effort to remember. “Well,” she began clumsily. “First, I was happy that you’d come back.” She noticed Yuta smirk with satisfaction, and her cheeks went red. “But then, I was angry because you ignored me. And then, we had an argument. I was holding the Stone, I think you grabbed my arm, and-“ She stopped suddenly.

“And?” Yuta prodded.

“And that’s it,” she shrugged.

Yuta ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Well,” he stated. “It’s a start. The stone obviously has something to do with it, but we need to know what the catalyst was. What were you thinking, what were you feeling exactly when it happened?”

Andria closed her eyes and tried her best to recall the scene moment by moment. Yuta had transformed, she’d hugged him, and he’d pushed her away. She remembered the flood of disappointment as he’d gone to Yenko, and then started putting things in his bag. At one point, he’d said something and tossed her the Stone. She remembered looking at it and thinking-

“My mother,” Andria whispered.

“What?” Yuta pried. “What did you say? You were thinking about your mother?”

“The Stone,” Andria clarified. “I remember thinking it was familiar. It reminded me of something of my mother’s, a painting of hers.”

Yuta laughed. “HaHA! That’s it!” he shouted gleefully, springing up from where sat in the dirt. “You were thinking about your mother, holding the Stone,” he walked to his and Andria’s pile of discarded clothing, “and the next thing we know, we’re right here with your mother.” Yuta rummaged through the clothing until he withdrew the Stone, the source of all this confusion. “It all makes perfect sense. Now,” he stated grandly, walking towards her. Andria rose to her feet. “All we should have to do is pick a time and a place, focus on that, hold this,” he shoved the Stone into Andria’s palm, “and hold on.” He winked smugly and took Andria’s other hand firmly in his own. He was practically shaking with excitement. The thrill of solving a difficult puzzle, Andria mused.

“Where and when should I think of?” Andria asked meekly. She couldn’t’ recall exactly what the date had been, having been shut off from the rest of the world for over a month at that point.

Yuta thought for a moment. Andria could see a dark thought creeping into his eyes. “I want you to think of somewhere familiar, somewhere in Tokyo, preferably.” Andria briefly racked her brain. She had been so few places in Tokyo, but eventually she was able to choose. “The date, August 10, 2007.”

Andria nodded. Squeezing her eyes shut, Andria began to pour every conscious thought into the chosen place and time. Her fist tightened around the stone until her knuckles shone bright white. She thought harder.

Nothing.

After an anticlimactic moment, Andria exhaled the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes. Yuta was looking at the ground, deep in thought.

Andria was about to say something, when suddenly, Yuta’s eyes, menacing and dark, flicked up at her. In an instant, his hands were on her shoulders. He shoved her forcefully, angrily backwards. She fell, her hands flailing, mouth opening wide as though she would scream, and then the water consumed her. Andria felt the warm water envelop her, and immediately began thrashing against the sloshing waves. It was shallow. She could stand.

Her head resurfaced, choking on a liquid breath she had accidentally inhaled. Yuta crouched at the water’s edge, smirking menacingly. Andria looked at him, taking a moment to wrap her mind around what he had just done, growing more enraged by the second. Rage washed over her as she waded clumsily towards him, weighted down by her beautiful, but heavy kimono.

Her lips curled into a snarl. Her mind whirred furiously, trying to decide which loathing-filled insult to put to use first. As soon as she was within arm’s reach of Yuta however, he leaned forward and grabbed her tightly by the shoulders.

A flash, and the world faded into bright white nothingness.

 

“Narita airport?” Yuta asked, utterly confused. Andria reopened her eyes to a very familiar scene. There they were, in the exact spot she had envisioned. A large crowd of people bustled all around them, seeming to take no notice of Andria and Yuta’s unusual garb or Andria’s obvious sogginess. Large digital screens displayed flashing lines of Japanese characters, a woman’s voice blaring mechanically over an intercom nearby. Andria smiled.

Yuta grabbed Andria by the elbow and dragged her out of the immediate flow of traffic. He took in their surroundings. After considering the confusing scene around them, he admitted, “Well, I have to applaud your choice. We’re not in a terminal, so no security to deal with, and the trains are just downstairs.”

Andria smiled weakly. Then-

“Hey, Ow!” Yuta whined, rubbing the spot on his chest Andria had just punched with her bony fist.

“That’s for pushing me in!” she hissed angrily, close to his face so only the two of them could hear. “Now I look like a complete lunatic!”

Yuta quit rubbing his arm. A smug smile crossed his face. “If I hadn’t done that,” Yuta explained, “we’d probably still be sitting in the forest.”

Andria didn’t immediately understand, so he continued, “The first time you transported us, you were holding the Stone, you were thinking of your mother, and you were also experiencing an extreme emotional reaction. I needed to get you angry.”

Flustered, Andria wanted to argue further because, hell, she was still soaking wet and more than a little uncomfortable, but his reasoning was sound. She said nothing.

They were standing in the main lobby of the wing designated for international departures. It was the height of midday, and as such, the floor was crowded with people, all laden with heavy baggage, all scrambling to find a line to stand in. A thought crossed Andria’s mind and made her frown. “This is it,” Andria whispered. “Isn’t it?”

“What?” Yuta asked.

“This is why you wanted me to pick a place in Tokyo. You’re trying to send me home.”

For a moment, Yuta said nothing, taking in her cold, but accepting expression. Then, his voice low and ashamed, he replied, “No.” Andria looked at him with confusion.

“Actually,” Yuta continued, “I need a favor. A big favor,” he admitted. His eyes fell, grieved for what he was about to ask. “And I understand if you say no.”

Andria said nothing, but stared at him expectantly. “It’s Yenko,” he explained. “He was left behind.”

Almost instantly, Andria was flooded with understanding. He didn’t need to explain any further. When she and Yuta had been thrust back into time, the bag Yuta had placed Yenko in had been left on the table. And since Yuta hadn’t asked her take them back to Towada, but rather to the city nearest the Lord’s point of operations, he must already have known they would have taken him.

Yuta’s eyes were pleading. “The Lords were so close behind me. I knew there was no way they would have overlooked him. I was hoping that if you could at least get us to Tokyo, then I could go back and bargain with them.”

“You?” Andria asked. “Alone?”

Yuta’s eyes were laden with shame and sadness. “They have him bound,” he said weakly. “I can’t make a connection. I have no defense against them, nothing to offer them, except…” his voice trailed off. He no longer met her eyes.

Then, it clicked. “Me,” she whispered. Bile rose in her throat for a moment as she considered what Yuta was saying, but she suppressed it. Her mouth twitched with revulsion as she stared at Yuta, who still wouldn’t look at her. “So,” she elaborated, “You think that if you deliver me, give them what they want, that they’ll let you have Yenko back.”

“No,” Yuta stated flatly, “They’ll never give him back, knowing now what he can do. But they won’t kill him. They haven’t killed him yet, but they’ve managed to bind him. I can only assume they’re waiting because they know I’ll come after him, bringing the only thing I have left to bargain with.” Suddenly, his eyes were on her, pleading, desperate. He seized one of Andria’s hands in both of his, “I promise,” he continued with a tone of unquestionable confidence, “you will be safe. They won’t hurt you. Now that I know what they want you for, I’m sure they won’t dare to harm you once they know who you are,” he emphasized the last three words and studied Andria’s cold expression. “Please,” he hissed desperately, “If they kill him…” Again, his voice trailed off, unable to put into words the inconceivable possibility.

Andria withdrew her hand. What could she do? What were her options? She glanced at the seemingly endless queues of travelers, and it crossed her mind how easy it would be to put herself on one of the hundreds of planes outside. She could walk up to any one of the dozens of security officers in the building, announce herself as the girl who went missing in Akita, and within forty-eight hours, the whole nightmare would be over; however, she would still be a Dragon. Sakura would still be her mother. The rest of her life would be one giant regret, she imagined. She would never be able to share with anyone back home what she was. Her father certainly wouldn’t understand. Her destiny would, from that point on, be nothing more than to live out her days as a human, forced to suppress the secret of her new identity until the day she died. Worse, she wasn’t yet sure if these powers Yuta swore she had would start to reveal themselves, and if she’d be able to control and disguise them. What would people say? What would they do?

Andria looked into Yuta’s pleading eyes, and wordlessly nodded. There was no warmth in her expression, no sympathy. Not anymore. Even as Yuta’s arms enveloped her in an embrace which soaked his clothes through to his skin, Andria wanted nothing more than to draw away, repulsed. She had been right, after all. She was, indeed, his bargaining chip, and nothing more.