Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She was surrounded by a beautiful feeling. All around her, there was love and beauty and nothing of the duty she had always felt, lurking behind her like a constant shadow.

She felt as if she were pressed right up against a very, very precious someone with almost none of the precious space between them. Inseparably connected; nestled together like peas in a pod. Not a single bit of anxiety or loneliness lingered in her, as if she was a young child again. A very sweet feeling, the feeling of not yet knowing loss filled her body.

And then the feeling vanished and she fell, fell down into the cold where someone was calling out a single name.

“Vaisravana!”

Who- Who was Vaisravana?

More voices joined the calling.

“Bishamonten!” A girl’s voice called.

“Bisha!” A soft voice shouted.

The voices started getting louder and louder before a single voice cut through the crowd, barely a whisper but at the same time, loud enough to make her open her eyes.

“Veenah?”

With a startled gasp, she woke up with her hand in the air, and in her hand was a ribbon.

A ribbon? Where did that come from? Slowly, Veenah blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden light in the room as the ribbon vanished.

She looked around her, half-expecting to see the same murky landscape around her before she realized where she was.

Bedroom.

Ceiling.

Light.

Window.

Cityscape.

Tokyo.

I see, she thought, and stood up to peer out the window curiously. How long had she lived in this city again? It felt like years and years. Somehow, this morning, the familiar skyscrapers, streets and trains felt strange, as if they were from another world.

“That’s stupid,” She thought aloud, and turned away from the window to walk back into her bathroom until a single tear made its way down her face. Reaching up, she touched that tear and tried to remember her dream. Who are you?

But it was no use, and she turned back to the window with a disappointed sigh. The fragments of her dream were already drying up, along with the remnants of the tear on her finger.

I wake up in the morning and somehow I am crying, she thought, almost laughing at her stupid situation. That sort of thing rarely happens to me.

In fact, in all her years living in Tokyo, she had never cried before, save for that one time she watched that episode of that one TV show… What was it called again? Only this morning had she just realized how long she had lived in this apartment building, surrounded by the ocean of humanity that came with the city.

She’s lived here since that day.

What day? She thought as she made her way to the bathroom, picking up the fine-tooth comb and slowly running it through her fine, blonde hair.

She couldn’t remember. Sighing, she turned to the mirror, disappointed and looked into her own eyes, thinking of a certain day. What had happened on that day? And why can’t I remember?

She gave up and walked out the door, not bothering to smooth on the red lipstick she always did and running down the stairs (she remembered the elevator was broken), continuing out the door where the city was slowly waking up. Her city.

It’s not my city, she told herself, wondering why she had that thought as she swung into the same bakery she always did every morning, for years already.

“Veenah,” The pastry maker greeted her with a smile, which she returned until she smelled the smoke on the air.

That reminded her of a strange house with a red door, red furniture, and red, stained-glass windows. The clouds were painted red in that scape, and so was the ground. The air even smelled red, of blood and smoke, the smell of iron burning or a scorched wound.

The thought of that made her uneasy. Where did she remember this?

She left money on the counter, not bothering to pick up the change, and continued down the street quickly.

The same people met her eyes on the train. They’ve been here for years too, she thought. Taking the same train. The first time she came here, they had stared at her and whispered about her blonde hair and likely other things too, but over time, had gotten used to the strange, foreign-looking woman standing and holding the handlebar. No one offered her a seat anymore; they used to, but every time, she declined.

When she left the train station, she trailed her fingers on the coarse brick wall, feeling the rough surface underneath her fingertips. She was used to it, but somehow, this morning, as she did that, she remembered doing that somewhere else, outside the same red house. The bricks turned her fingertips red as she did, and the smell of smoke was contaminated by the scent of iron, making everything smell, for some reason, so red.

Stop thinking like this, she told herself sternly. You’re being stupid and paranoid.

“Hello, Veenah,” Someone waved, and she waved back without caring to see who it was. Above her, doves flew, and although no one noticed, Veenah held her hand over her head to shield from the sunlight and looked at the doves.

An army…

No, they were doves, not an army. No army wears all white and flies in the sky.

But as she thought that, she thought of, rather, remembered an army, wearing tattered white clothing, riding on horses, and covered in blood. And through it all, that terrible, terrible dream, she smelled red.

She forced her sight away from the crowd of doves in the sky and continued down the street to work, her head throbbing.

Suddenly, in front of her, a white-and-red object fell to the ground, splattering in front of her. Veenah felt a wave of revulsion bubble up inside her as she looked at the bloodied dove on the floor.

It’s just a dove, a dove. They die all the time. But this one looked as if it had been attacked. Who would attack a dove? They would. Who were they?

And then she began remembering, the sound of hoofbeats above her and underneath her, accompanied by a loud drum and people singing a song, cheering a single word that she couldn’t make out (the crowd distorted it that much).

And she had a visual of a notebook in front of her, covered in her small, blocky handwriting. Her current self squinted, trying to read the handwriting before giving up and trying to blink rapidly to focus her eyesight.

It’s nothing, she told herself. Nothing, nothing.

She steadied her breathing and continued walking down the street until she reached the large building where she
worked, looming over her.

Veenah took a deep breath and pushed her way through the door, going on auto-pilot until she reached the large, floor-to-ceiling window in front of her and leaned against it, staring at the hazy city in front of her.

“What’s wrong?” Chassity, her friend for seven years asked as she walked up beside her.

“I was looking for a house,” Veenah told her sadly. “A house with a red door, but all the doors I see are black.”

“What house is this?” Chassity asked, puzzled.

“No house,” Veenah dismissed her sadly. “Let’s get back to work.”

***

Weird things had happened in the morning, but everything seemed normal now.

Veenah took a breath of relief and walked down the crowded street, cars on the roads. Suddenly, a young girl ran into her, and Veenah let out a small sound of surprise.

“Oh! Sorry, I-”

The girl didn’t let her finish, instead looking up with a puzzled look in her doe eyes.

“Vaisravana?”

Veenah shook her head and pushed the girl away, running down the street and pushing through the crowd amidst protests and disapproving murmurs.

Ratty brown hair, messy bangs, a mark on her face… Who was that girl? Veenah felt that she had seen that girl before at the end of her other life. What other life?

That person, she thought with panic as she continued to push through the ever-dense crowd. That person shouldn’t be here. That person shouldn’t be alive.

A girl let out a cry of surprise as Veenah pushed past her through the crowd.

Something told her that she shouldn’t be here at all, that something was missing now. We need to always be together, someone had once told her. We won’t survive any other way. That person had been wrong. Something told her that once, in this place, that a terrible tragedy had occurred and the group had all died.

What group?

But somehow, she, the lone woman had lived. The rest of her pack had been killed, but she was left. And now, a light filled her gut where the emptiness had once been, and to satisfy that pain inside her, she would light the entire world on fire if it meant she could find out who she, Veenah, was.

Finally, she made it back to the spot where the dove had been this morning and kneeled down, touching the cold floor and feeling the grains of gravel and sand underneath her fingertips, raising it up to her face and staring, trying to see the blood or the dove she had this morning.

It’s gone, she realized, and stood up once again.

“Who are you?”

Chapter Text

The moon ascended in azure, and although it’s radiance was nothing compared to the morning’s sun, it still stood out brighter tonight then any other night. It’s light, however, was not enough to overwhelm anyone and stop them from whatever task they were doing at the moment. Combined with the large cityscape painted over with fog and the green countryside dotted with poppies beyond the surging waves of humanity as far as the eye could see, it seemed something out of a fairy tale.

“Veenah.”

Amidst such a heavenly scene, a young man walked through, not batting a single eyelash at the moon above him or the flowers around him, despite their strong, almost overpowering smell being carried on the breeze.

“Veenah!”

Where am I? He thought as he groped around in the apparent darkness, despite the moon above him. I can’t see.

There was someone in front of him- he could tell by the warmth.

That person reached forward with a burning embrace and suddenly he realized it wasn’t a person, but rather a fire, crackling and pulling him in with a red-hot grip on his leg.

Stop, he tried to say, but found only a flap of skin covering where his mouth should have been. The skin stretched over his face, covering his eyes… He could not see, he realized. Let me go, he tried again to scream, although only a pained rasp of a whisper escape his windpipe, which slowly felt narrower and narrower by the minute as the fire continued drag him down, down, and down until he was trying his best to scream. The fire was so hot… I’m burning, I’m burning…. Veenah!

The smell of flowers was getting stronger and stronger… The heat was swallowing him whole.

Veenah, he thought desperately, clawing at the ground. Veenah, Veenah, Vee-

And just like that, the young man woke up.

“Veenah,” He rasped, and sat up suddenly before realizing he couldn’t. Where am I? He stared down at the wires connected to the insides of his wrist, one going underneath his nose and another connected to his thigh. There must have been more, but he could not see them underneath the heavy fabric of the hopsital gown he wore.

A hospital.

The door opened and a young doctor walked in, holding a notepad. She had long, dark hair that was tied into twin-tails, giving her the appearance of a young girl. Her nametag read ‘Iki Hiyori’, and the young man realized he had seen her before.

“Who are…” He mustered before the woman silenced her.

“You’re awake.”

He nodded and rubbed his neck, feeling the ache in his muscles from not being used for so long.

The woman, Hiyori, let out a breath of relief and smiled.

“That’s good to hear. I’m Iki Hiyori. You…” She looked around herself. “You were unconscious for a very long time.”

“How long?” He asked, staring at his wrist and turning his hand around to see faded red ink, although it seemed it wasn’t there at all.

“Months. We thought you dead, but…” Her voice trailed off as she saw his eyes on the heart monitor.

“Have we met before?” The young man blurted out.

Hiyori froze and stared at him, her eyes traveling to the mark inked into his hand.

“That’s strange,” She said sheepishly, mustering a nervous smile. “I thought the same thing.”

“Do you know someone named Veenah?” He tried, staring at her with a look of intensity.

Hiyori shook her head and pushed him back down gently.

“You’re still weary.” She told him. “Lay back down.”

“Please- I…”

“Do you remember your name?” She asked.

“No,” He stammered, only now realizing that the spaces where his memory and name should have been had vanished.

Somehow, I wake up in the hospital and I can’t remember anything, he thought as he tried to sit back up again. Something like that doesn’t always happen to me.

“Have we met before?”

“No,” Hiyori said again. “Please, lay back down- I need to take your vitals.”

“Are you sure you don’t know anyone named Veenah?”

Hiyori stopped, her hand halfway to her pen.

“A strange name,” Hiyori thought aloud. “Is that a name you remember?”

Kazuma nodded and stared back at his hand, the faint red ink still there, although through it all there was a crack splitting the name in half.

He lay still as the woman took his vitals, letting out occasional sighs and breaths, to which Kazuma would sit up and ask her what was wrong.

“Nothing,” She’d always respond, but something about her expression told him it was anything but.

“May I walk around the hospital?” He asked after she was done. “I want to see if anyone knows a person named Veenah.”

“In a week,” She said, sitting by his bedside and staring at the ink on his hand again. “You can’t strain yourself right
now.”

He sighed, disappointed, and closed his eyes.

As he did, a ribbon flew into his vision and filled the nothingness with blues, reds, and greens.

“What’s your name?” He asked again. The woman turned around.

“Hiyori.”

“Do you know my name?” He asked.

“No. I can send a psychologist to you, to try to draw out the memories, if you’d like.”

Kazuma felt a strange sense of dread at the offer and shook his head.

“No, thank you.”

Hiyori stopped, pausing for a second. It’s because no one in their right mind would refuse a psychologist, he realized,
and with a silent laugh, sat back against the pillows. Perhaps I am insane.

Once Hiyori had gone, Kazuma looked out at the cityscape, trying to see if he remembered anything about it. The skyscrapers that stood before him were familiar, no doubt, freshly seared into his memory. Where they were from, however, he did not remember. That much made him angry, but more so, frustrated. Who are you? He thought, but he wasn’t so sure if he was just asking himself that anymore.

Suddenly, he saw something fall from the sky. A white thing, spotted with red. A dead dove, he realized, and swallowed
down a strange wave of fear. Why am I scared? It’s just a dove. It didn’t feel like ‘just a dove’. When he tried to get out of bed, however, the wires connected to his wrist stopped him.

The man looked up again to see a whole crowd of white birds, flying overhead.

Strange. Did birds like that usually fly in such a flock?

The more he looked at it, the more it began to resemble an army, but he told himself that that was stupid. Idiot. Not only did you forget your own name, but also your common sense. A dove was a dove, a soldier was a soldier. A flock of doves could not make up for the army he had forgotten somewhere in his memory.

He swallowed down his nausea and looked down at his hands, trying to disorient himself, but instead of the sight of his pale skin, he was met with the faint outline of what looked like a name, a prominent crack in the faded ink.

He squinted his eyes, trying to read it, but failed, instead choosing to grip his hand. As he did that, he visualized a woman in his place, her hand on his. A woman? The air smelled sweet, of cherry blossoms and… the ocean? The man tried to look up to see who the woman was, but as he did, he only got a glimpse of the long, blonde hair she had, trailing over one shoulder, before the vision disappeared again.

Who are you? He wanted to ask, but could not find his voice as the vision disappeared, and he fell back onto the bed with a sigh, holding his hand up to the ceiling. A crack on the roof seemed to line up with the crack in his hand. Strange, he thought, and turned to the side, away from the window.

***

Yatogami walked through the elaborate shrine with clouds billowing around him, pooling at his feet as he walked. Yukine was by his side.

With a deep breath, he walked through Amaterasu’s court to stop in front of her throne, and kneeled, waiting for her to beckon him up. She did so with a heavy sigh and a sad look on her face.

“Yatogami,” Her vessels said. “God of fortune and war.”

“Yato.” Amaterasu said from her spot on the throne. “Stand. Why are you here today?”

She already knows the answer, Yato thought, and looking back to Yukine for strength, took a deep breath.

“I’m here to plead Vaisravana and her vessel, Kazuma’s case.”

At that, her vessels let out a heavy sigh, and Amaterasu herself looked to be filled with regret.

“And why is that?”

“You would seperate them with no recollection of each other, take away her rank amongst heaven, and expect me to sit there and watch?” Yato said, not caring if he lost his head or his place with heaven if he said that.

“You should. You’re in her place now. Isn’t that everything you’ve ever wanted? As many shrines as you’d like… A place you belong, finally?”

Yato didn’t like the way she talked, but what could he do? He was easily replacable, just like Bishamonten was, wasn’t he?

“You’ve come to us every year already.” Her vessels said with none of the gentleness she held in her voice. A welcome change, for once.

“She has suffered enough! It’s been seven years.” Yato said, trying his best to plead his case. I may not have liked Bishamonten much, but Kazuma wasn’t as bitchy as she was. Besides, no one deserves that much.

“And in every one of those seven years, you’ve come here. And every year my answer is the same.” Amaterasu told him gently. “I’m sorry Yato, but there is nothing I can do.”

“Leave.” Her vessels said.

“Please,” Yato persisted, his voice cracking. “Haven’t you forgotten Hiyori?”

“I haven’t.” Amaterasu closed her eyes gently. “But that was your punishment.”

“Punishment for what?” Yato was grasping at strings now.

“Punishment for being part of her wretched ‘rebellion’.” The quiet vessel to the side spate.

“You should be happy that you only got a woman taken away from you, and for that, you were granted the prize of being a god, finally.” Amaterasu mused, sitting up straighter.

I was a god before, Yato thought with venom. But you didn’t want to acknowledge me.

“I’d rather have everything be back to normal.”

“But that would be impossible.” Amaterasu said firmly. “Goodbye, Yato.”

He saw that it was no use, arguing with the most powerful person in heaven, and turned to leave.

But how could he? How could he leave Kazuma and Bishamonten? How can I leave Hiyori? He remembered the way she was. She used to ruffle my hair and call me ‘homeless’, he remembered with a fondness. It’s been forever.

“Nothing can replace her.” Yato turned back around to Amaterasu.

“There are a thousand girls like her out there.”

“Do you want to know the hard truth?” Yato walked closer to Amaterasu. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember
her face anymore. I can’t remember the sound of her laugh, or the scent of her hair; only that she was the one thing I ever really wanted, and someone took her away from me.”

A vessel stepped forward until Amaterasu waved him off.

“A thousand shrines could not fill the space she left behind,” He told Amaterasu, clenching his fists by his side as Amaterasu looked sadly at her vessels.

“You’ll find another woman.” She said.

“No.” Yato bowed down. “Once the sun has set, no candle can replace it.”

Yato turned away from the hall.

Chapter Text

The man woke up again, hearing the name ‘Chouki’ in his ears and feeling the name ‘Veena’ on his.

“Veena.” He said, and touched his lips as he did, staring at the outline of where the letter on his hand used to be. This
time, however, instead of the faded ink he saw last night, the name was outlined in a bright crimson.

With a loud gasp, he sat up and pulled the blanket aside to see his hand, revealing the name written in red with a single crack running through the middle.

“Chou… Chouki?” He read slowly, and gasped as he felt something else.

Cherry blossoms in his hair… No, that couldn’t be possible. He was in the hospital, was he not? He looked up and saw a cherry blossom tree above him, and further behind him sat a blonde woman with the same voice as the one in his last dream.
Who are you, he began to ask, but he couldn’t find his voice.

He remembered sitting with a blonde woman- Veena? Her name had to be Veena, because he knew he wouldn’t remember her otherwise.

His hand reached over and rested over hers, but somehow he felt her fingers tracing over the name on his hand.

“Chouki,” She said happily, and he knew that was his name. My name is Chouki, he thought, and tried to scramble out of bed.

“Excuse me!” He called, his voice almost collapsing under the strain. “Excuse me!”

He heard a soft voice singing to him in the back ofhis head, accompanied by piano music. Who are you? He demanded as the voice grew quieter and quieter, and he looked up from the keyboard to see the singer’s face. She is beautiful, was the first thing he saw, because after that, her face soon vanished.

A nurse ran into the room.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“Ah- Yeah,” He said, looking around himself. “May I have a piece of paper?”

His voice was rough and scratchy, and talking so loud made him wince. How long have I been out? Maybe he should ask Hiyori the next time she came into the room. My name is Chouki. Chouki. To be honest, he didn’t even know if that really was his name, but Veena, the woman had called him by that name.

The nurse returned and handed him a notepad.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see a-”

“A psychologist?” He asked, pausing to see if she nodded. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

Ignoring the nurse, he hurridly began to sketch on the paper, drawing an oval and a cone before erasing some of the soft lines.

A skin-deep desire, a core-deep love… A rush, a touch… A look. Through all of his thoughts, he continued to draw her, the woman in his dreams. Is she even a real person? Chouki hoped she was. That woman was the last connection he had with whoever ‘Chouki’ was.

What if I forget? That made him scared, and he quickly copied down his name on the paper, eyes darting from his hand and back to the paper until he had filled the page with ‘Chouki’. And then, he began to sketch the woman.

“Drawing?”

Chouki looked up from his drawing to see Hiyori, smiling.

“Ah- Yeah. I can’t get the eyes right.” He held the paper up to the light, tracing over the lips, the nose, her high cheekbones. I got the high cheekbones right, but not her eyes. How strange. Something about the serious, sad eyes he had drawn on the paper seemed off. Veena always had laughing eyes, he recalled, and tried to remember how he did.

“Well, mister artist, I brought something for you.” Hiyori said, and motioned for someone at the door to bring something in, to which they did, holding a keyboard.

“A… A piano?” He asked, studying the black and white keys hesitantly as the piano was moved to his bedside.

“A keyboard. A nurse heard you humming last night and pretending to play the keyboard, so I had hoped this would
help you remember, since you refuse to see a psychologist.” Hiyori said, smiling dryly. “My offer still stands-”

“No, thank you.” He told her. “For offering- And the keyboard. I promise I’ll try to play as much as I can.”

“No,” She said, shaking her head. “Just enjoy it.”

“Thank you again.” He said, holding his breath as she stood up and made move to leave.

“Like I said, you should really see a psychologist.”

She thinks I’m crazy, Chouki thought, disappointed.

“No, thank you.” He said, and at that, Hiyori left, still smiling.

Chouki let go of the breath he was holding and picked up the lined paper, placing his pencil along the lines hesitantly. What do I write? Did he even remember any songs? The answer came to him as quickly as the events of last night’s dream had faded. Last night’s dream. The song she was singing to him- Chouki knew he had heard it somewhere before, even if it was in another reality.

He ran his hands through his hair and placed his fingers on the keys, moving them until it felt right and pressing down.

Come out to meet you, he thought- no, sang. That made him weary. Where do I remember this? The more he tried to think, the blurrier the words became. Then don’t think. Just feel.

Tell you I’m sorry.

You don’t know how lovely you are.

The lyrics were starting to come together. Finally, he thought, his eyes widening happily.

And then he continued writing, his fingers working furiously until they were covered in ink, until the paper beneath him ran out and he had five sheets of notes, with small lyrics written on the bottom.

Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions.

Oh let’s go back to the start.

Had he done this all by himself? Chouki looked out the window, and, eyes widening in wonder, realized that the sun was
already down. So much time has passed without me knowing. Shivering, he covered himself with the blanket.

“Oh.” Hiyori walked in, hands folded in front of her.

“Hello,” Chouki smiled, worn out.

“I had a dream,” Hiyori said. “About some guy I met back in middle school. It sounds strange, but I believe he called
himself a god. I also remember that he wore a purple tracksuit.”

The woman laughed, brushing her hair out of her face and tucking it back into the long, black braid that ran over her shoulder and down to her torso.

“That’s stupid, but I feel like it isn’t just a dream.” Hiyori stopped laughing and turned to him with a look that was equal parts sadness and fondness. “Have you ever felt that way? Like something’s missing from you. From your heart? I know I have. Some days, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, crying, and I won’t even remember what I’m dreaming about. Only that it was sad.”

“I know what you mean,” Chouki said, and thought about the blonde woman. Where is she now? He hoped she remembered him. Most likely, she didn’t, but he could hope, couldn’t he? “May I go outside yet?”

Hiyori shook her head.

“At the end of this week, you will. I promise you.” She said, and Chouki smiled, turning back to his messily scrawled music.

Chapter Text

Chouki felt the cool, autumn air on his skin and shivered, still unused to the feeling after spending so long hospitalized.

Chouki, he thought. My name. That much was clear to him, but Veena? From where did he remember that name? I’m
sure, one day, the answers will come to me.

Veena, he thought again, walking slowly through the city as the sun set until he reached a train station, mostly deserted. Where am I? Surely he couldn’t have left the city already. His own question was answered by the sight of the glowing city, just beyond the trees that surrounded the train station.

“For a short while,” The nurse had said as he made his way out of the hospital. Surely it hasn’t been that long, he thought as he walked up the steps two-by-two and into the train station.

“What’s wrong?” He asked himself, thinking aloud already. I must be insane. Talking to myself, huh… He wanted something to tell him he wasn’t insane. I’m not insane. I’m not. Was he really? Chouki didn’t even remember his own name, and here he was, trying to put himself togther on his own.

Slowly, he took a deep breath, and, looking around him for something to confirm his existence called, “Veena!”

His voice reverberated in the air for a moment, but he was met with no response.

Looking around for a single moment, Chouki finally let out the breath he was holding in the form of a disappointed sigh until he saw a piano near the corner of the train station. How? Surely the piano wasn’t there when he first came here.

The gods are strange, he thought, and walked over slowly, sitting down on the piano’s bench and placing his fingers on the keys. The wind blew through his hair and Kazuma realized how deserted the station was. I don’t like this, was his first thought, but all aprehension faded away as he saw the keys, shining, almost beckoning to him.

The sunset cast strange shadows on the train station, of which reminded him of a strange sight. A burning house, was it? How do I know these things? The fact that he did not even know himself scared him, but he forced himself not to think about that. You shouldn’t be scared of a shadow, he thought, reprimanding himself sternly. It’s just a shadow. Said shadow moved from the piano and across the floor, but Chouki did not notice as he began to play the same song that he’d been practicing for the past few weeks.

“Veena?” He asks again as a shadow flickers from one end of the train station to the other. But he shrugged that off too, let go of the breath he was holding, and began to sing.

And all of a sudden, he remembered what being happy felt like. That’s dumb. You’re just singing. But somehow, he remembered the sunlight on his cheeks. Where am I? The last time he checked, the sun was already setting.

He remembered running through the city with someone by his side, chasing after things. What were they again? Somehow, he couldn’t remember any details of the scene he was visualizing, onlt the feelings. Raw, real, emotion. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, because for the first time in ages, he had finally been able to feel.

“I had to find you,” He sang softly. “Tell you I need you.”

He remembered feeling the snow crunch beneath his bare feet, and expecting the cold although he felt none, only a pleasant tingling. He remembered a woman crying and reached out a hand to help her, and all of a sudden he was falling. A dove was on his shoulder, and somehow, he also felt fear.

Keep playing, the dove told him, so he did, forcing his fingers to move across the keys.

I’m falling, he thought, but somehow, he was still sitting on the piano bench. No, I can’t be. This is all just a dream. But it wasn’t, something told him. You are falling.

“Help me,” He tried saying to the dove, but it only dove down and began pecking at the spot between his forehead, causing blinding pain to sprewad through his head. What are you doing? He wanted to scream, but more so cry. The dove must have sensed that, because it flew away.

Nobody said it was easy; no one ever said it would be this hard.

Don’t cry, the dove said. Fight back. Fight back.

Chouki’s lungs were on fire as he fell. I can’t, he said. I’m falling.

Are you really? Asked the dove. For once, Chouki did not know the answer to that.

Are you really a dove? He tried to ask the dove. The wind took his voice away, however, but he forced himself to keep on playing. Veena, he thought desperatley, reaching out to grab at the name. But instead, he was met with the feathers of the dove.

Oh take me back to the start…

Are you really falling? The dove asked back, and he fell through the clouds, the ground coming up to meet him.

I can’t fight back, he told the dove, falling even faster as the mountains came up to meet him, and his tears froze on his cheeks. But where was the cold? All he could feel was the burning sensation spreading across his entire body. Something told him that once, whoever Veena was had tried to fight back as she fell. But it didn’t matter; she burned up all the same. How did he know this? He let out another scream.

Questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart.

Fight back! The dove shouted. You aren’t Veena.

Who is Veena? He fell even further, and saw the peaks of the frosted mountains, rising up to meet him. There seemed to be skeletons impaled on the peaks, skeletons of a thousand other people who had fallen like him. But I never fall, he thought, falling.

Tell me you love me.

He was still singing somehow, but now he felt like he was joined by another voice.

Veena? With that name in his mind, he spread his arms and tried to make himself fly.

I was just guessing, with numbers and figures; pulling your puzzles apart.

Fly, he begged himself, before yelling at the dove. I don’t have wings, he said.

You do, the dove replied, and Chouki reached back to feel his back, trying to find feathers.

I don’t, he said, but suddenly he felt no pressure on his back anymore.

The air pulled him up and drank the fear from his veins, and sudddenly- I’m flying, he said, delighted, but his happiness did not last for long as he remembered Veena’s face in full detail, crying and screaming, blood running down her face. Help me, she seemed to say, but her lips couldn’t move.

Seven years, he realized. We’ve been apart for seven years.

The darkness around him was whisked away, and he realized he was still sitting at the keyboard, his fingers still moving
across the keys, his lips still moving with song coming out of them.

And then Chouki looked up from the keyboard, trying to find the source of the voice until his eyes found purple, and he met Veena’s. Veena, he wanted to shout, but only a strangled gasp came out of him. Chouki- No, that wasn’t his name. My name is Kazuma. Kazuma. Veena gave him that name. Kazuma reached out as if to grab her hand, but before he could, a train blew between them, blowing his hair to the side and sending leaves into the air.

His eyes were wide as he stared, only able to wait for the train to pass. Veena, he thought with excitment. Veena is alive. Veena. Veena looked good since the last time she had seen him, and youthful, as if she had not aged at all. Of course she hasn’t. Now that Kazuma knew what she was- and what he himself was, he did not know what to think. Don’t think, he remembered. Just feel.

And so he did, letting out a desperate scream as the train passed and Veena was not there. What if she never was there
at all? What if his imagination had tried to make him seem less insane.

“Veena!” He screamed, and began running down the steps and into the countryside. He did not know why he was doing
that, only that if he stopped, he would never be Kazuma again. Feel, he thought, and screawmed her name again.

His legs seemed to know where to go, although his mind did not, and he let himself run through the hills, slowly getting dark.

“Veena! Veena, where are you!” He screamed again, the wind taking his voice away like it had in that terrible dream he had. Kazuma felt desperately afraid. Feel, he told himself, and it will reach her, no matter how far away she is. Emotion has no boundaries.

***

Veena heard her name before it even came out of his mouth.

“Chouki!” Veena shouted, even though she knew it was not his real name, of which was at the tip of her tongue. She forced herself around the corner, thinking Kazuma was around that corner waiting for her. He’s not there, she realized with a sinking feeling in her heart, although she could still hear his voice, singing. Oh god, how could I forget? Surely something had made her forget.

Her heart took her to a tall mountain, and Veena realized that she had been here before. I’m falling, she thought, for a single, wild second, but realized her feet were on the ground. Chouki! She remembered falling… falling for years and years, burning as she did.

“Chouki!”

I’m going back to the start.

Veena clapped a hand over her ears, trying to forget that terrible day where doves fell from the sky, one by one, and she fell with them, slowly, burning, burning, screaming. I don’t want to remember anymore.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of emotion and opened her mouth, screaming, “Kazuma!” His real name, she realized as soon as it left her mouth.

“Kazuma!” She screamed again, and began to climb up the mountain despite herself. I need to keep going, she thought, as rocks came loose beneath her feet and fell down the mountain. If I stop now, I’ll fall. If I stop now, I’ll never start again. Her legs screamed in agony, but she ignored them. I have to make it; I’ll die if I don’t. At this point, her mind was too far gone to make rational thought, and she was relying purely on her emotions. I need to trust myself.

The sunset continued to paint the landscape, blurring the line between dream and reality, turning the shadows pink and black all at once as she continued to run, pulling herself onto the top of the mountain. He’s waiting for me was her only thought as she began to run around the mountain.

“Kazuma!” For a second, it was only her, until a voice cut across the sky.

“Veena!” He screamed, and prompted by that, she began to sob loudly, continuing to run. He’s up here. I need to keep running. If she did, they would overlap each other eventually.

Instead of thinking, she was feeling, feeling memories come back to her. Kazuma will come back to me too, eventually. She remembered laughing with him at the library, hands trailing over wooden desks and old, bound books. She remembered his hands, running through her hair as she sat, surrounded by warmth. Mist wreathed the landscape, distorting her view, but her heart knew where to go.

She remembered his face, smiling at her gently even though her blade had run him through. I’m sorry, she wanted to scream, but forced herself to keep running, despite her throat’s dry protests. She could apologize to him when she found him.

He’s here, she thought as she heard his voice, scream out her name again.

“Kazuma!” She sobbed, screaming his name a final time before she heard a rock fall from behind her. Her breathing was heavy, but her heart was light as she reached forward, although there was no one there. And suddenly, for a second, a single second, as the sun set beneath the horizon, she felt warmth on her hand. Kazuma.

“Kazuma,” She whispered, having no energy to do anything but. Her blood was singing, and she was panting, panting, as if she had just climbed a mountain. I supposed I have.

“Veena,” He whispered, and for a second, she could see his red hair.

Veena smiled and grasped his hand, stepping forward, and slowly letting out a sound that was half-sob, and half-laugh. Somewhere, someplace, in a happier, less miserable time, we may see each other again, she thought, and for the first time, understood the emotions she had held in her heart for seven long years.

I’m going back to the start.