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Of Light, Shadow and Love: Volume 2 Chapter 9 Knowing More Lightsider
momentarily lost sight of his diminutive companion, for she turned suddenly
into an alleyway, a rare dead-end where a wall separated the buildings. She
held out her hand to him, as he turned the corner, and together they walked
down the alley until they were hidden by a pile of shipping crates. This isn’t the way to the
Church... Lightsider
thought. He voiced his worry a moment later. She
laughed. “Of course not.” She let go of his hand and stepped away from him. Lightsider’s
eyes narrowed, suddenly wondering if this was a trap after all. Could she
have deceived him so easily? She turned her back to him and shrugged her
shoulders gently, tipping her head backward. Her
wings exploded from her back, glowing softly in the dim alleyway, growing
into fullness with a soft burst of sound. Feathers, glowing as her wings did,
snowed gently around him, dissipating into motes of light before fading
completely away. Lightsider
skipped back half a pace. He remembered those wings. He also remembered the
razor sharp feathers. The Light exploded from his hands into a Shield between
himself and Shadowdancer. She
shook them out, the feathers rustling softly, as soft and as downy as a
chick’s. they became softly silver, satiny and smooth. Lightsider
thought about it, and let his Shield die. Shadow had had plenty of chances to
harm him. She wouldn’t be so ...unprofessional
to take him into a back alley to kill him there. After all, she’s more likely to kill me in either a more efficient,
or more stylish way. Or both... She
turned, sighing happily. “Aah. what a relief.” she blinked. “Ara? Where are
your wings?” she blinked at him. Lightsider
was grateful she hadn’t seen the small breach of trust. He felt ashamed for
that. He closed his eyes, and Shadow looked on in some wonder as Lightsider’s
white coat became indistinct, seemed to separate from the bottom and flowed
around and away from his body, forming snowy white, shining wings. “So
that’s how you hide them.” she looked interestedly at his wings. Lightsider
chuckled. “Long years of practice. It keeps me relatively anonymous.” “You
sure hide them differently... I just will mine into my back. Oh well, each to
their own.” she shrugged. “Ikimashou ka?”
she chirped. “Hai!” Lightsider said. She
leaped into the air, her wings beating with little effort. Lightsider
watched her go, and then rose into the sky after her, wings moving hardly at
all. His essence gave him his power over gravity. He literally flew on wings
of Light. Shadowdancer
burst out from the alley, exhilarating in the flight. She shot up past most
of the buildings and floated upon a current, admiring the setting sun.
Unconsciously, the began to sing one of the many songs taught to her, arias
of joy and praise for the kami that
she had lived most of her lifetime serving. Lightsider
had followed straight on her wingtips, slicing easily through her slipstream.
He listened to the celestial music that seemed to spring forth like living
water from the beautiful elf. So
perfect… he thought, entranced, unaware that his glasses had, once again,
slipped down his nose. He gazed upon the singing drow with unfettered eyes,
almost losing himself in the sight and the sound of her voice. Shadowdancer
finished her prayer-song and turned to him. “Much faster than the train, and
besides it’s not too far... this way.” She angled off, toward the forbidding
spires of the main fortress-cathedral of the The end
of her song broke the spell. He shook his head to clear his mind, and
concentrated on his flight, chasing after her. Lightsider
smiled as soon as he was within speaking range. “I’m not used to using these
things in the open like this,” he admitted. “It’s only been recently that
I’ve used them in public at all.” “If
there is something I’ve learned in my existence,” she smiled, “It’s that
people rarely look up. Especially in cities.” Lightsider
flared his left wingtip a bit, and drifted over until he was
wingtip-to-wingtip with Shadow. “Perhaps,” he mused. “But in the past, the
rare one is all it took. Someone always notices eventually. Then, well, they
always ask you to leave, either politely, or… less politely.” “Sometimes
you have to fight to win your place in the world.” Shadowdancer commented. Lightsider
thought back to a time when he had indeed done so. “And sometimes winning
your place loses you everything else.” Lightsider said, softly, his heart
aching. Shadowdancer
looked at him curiously, wondering at the odd statement. “I think
we’re here,” he motioned with his hand. Lightsider knew the whole truth would
come out eventually. If Shadow really wanted to know, she might as well hear
it from his own mouth. “Not
quite,” she murmured, then did the reverse of a dive, shooting up the side of
the tallest spire. Lightsider
followed, a little confused. Is she
going to sneak me in from the roof? She
spiraled around the spire tightly, seeming to skim the surface of the stone,
till they came up to the top, a tower with many large windows. The doctor
marveled at her control, the slight shifting of pinfeathers that kept her
balanced as she soared up the spire. Lightsider
looked at the tower. Shadow had stopped her climb, and was hovering near a
tall, Gothic window. Does she always
come in this way? She doesn’t need
to…. all she needs to do is to walk the Shadows and she is where she wishes
to be, no matter where in the world that place is… He watched as she
waved her hand, backwinging with all the grace of an eagle returning to her
eyrie. The windows opened inward, just as she settled weightlessly and
effortlessly on the wide ledge. Lightsider
watched her walk in, and tucked in his wings and dropped cautiously onto the
ledge himself, ready to spring backwards and out again. He trusted Shadow,
but this was the Church. He still wasn’t sure someone wouldn’t take exception
to him being there. He sighed, and kicked himself. I should trust her. She hasn’t done anything to me, and she offered
to help. Stop having all these misgivings! Lightsider
relaxed. It was a hard thing, sometimes, to trust. He’d been on his own for
so long. Been betrayed too many times. Lightsider
looked around Shadowdancer’s room for the first time, unconsciously
analyzing, cataloguing and drawing conclusions from the details. It was
larger than it should have been. Far larger. Judging by the size of the room
he was in, and the curvature of the walls, the inside of the tower was fully
three times the diameter of the outside. This
little anomaly, though, was swallowed up in his amazement at the contents of
the room. Lightsider
walked around, forgetting his hostess in his wonder. Exquisite pieces of
artwork and furniture adorned the room, and he was sure most of them weren’t
provided by the Church. Lightsider
stopped in front of a maki-e1 hanging that depicted a
landscape. The gold powder and metal flakes in the lacquer caught the sunlight
streaming through the windows, and shimmered as if alive. This particular
work was in the subtle and beautiful togidashi
style, where the designs were completely covered over with lacquer, to be
revealed later by hand-rubbing and polishing. Shadowdancer
turned and watched him wander around, his eyes lit with wonder. And well he
should be awed - most of her belongings were literally hundreds of years old.
They were treasures that survived the ages only by being with her. Museums of
the world would have paid her a fortune for even the smallest of the
paintings on her walls. She saw
him stop at one of her most prized possessions. A katana, held in a rack on a dais in the middle of the room. She
waited in anticipation for him to touch it, to try to pick it up. No one had
yet been able to resist, and the result was pretty funny, sometimes. Yet
Lightsider didn’t even twitch his hand toward the sword. He merely looked. Masamune,2 the doctor thought. Shadowdancer
smiled, yet another test passed by this most surprising of men. “Welcome to
my home,” she finally said. Lightsider
tore his gaze away from the weapon, and turned toward Shadow. “Ah… gomen!” he said with an apologetic
laugh. “I was so taken in by your home, I forgot my host!” She
nodded, still smiling. “It’s all right. I myself am used to my room… others
will not be. Please, have a seat.” She indicated the comfortable divan that
fronted some bookshelves and a low table of mahogany so old it was black. As
she dropped her backpack onto the table, she eyed him. “Most people would try
to pick up my Masamune-forged
blade,” she observed. “Why didn’t you?” Lightsider
looked back over at the dais where the sword lay quietly. So, he was right.
The workmanship was unmistakable. Lightsider traced the ancient silver script
on the black laquered scabbard of the katana with his eyes. Tsuki no Kage, “Shadow of the Moon”.
Lightsider grimaced. “What usually happens to those people?” he asked. “I
know for a fact you don’t pick up a holy weapon like that uninvited, without
consequences. I’ll assume they are not killed outright, else you would have
warned me. That weapon knows its master, and it certainly knew it wasn’t me.” A smile
played on her lips. “Certainly, the kami
of the sword would chide you for handling it... but time has mellowed it. She
does not kill those who dare touch her without my permission, any more….” She
turned. “A refreshment? The wind always dries me out.” “Domo sumimasen.3”
Lightsider said. He stood politely as Shadowdancer rose gracefully from the
divan. He sat down as she left, and looked around the room once more,
drinking in the ancient treasures it held. Shadowdancer
went to a kitchenette built into an alcove close to one of the windows. She found
the hidden fridge and brought out a couple of chilled colas. One of the best
inventions of the age was caffeine that didn’t need to be taken from tea. She
had a feeling that they’d need it. She wrapped a table napkin around the
cans, set them on coasters and put the whole thing on a tray. She also dug
out some okaki - little rice
crackers with seaweed sprinkled on them. She added the bowl to the tray and
brought it back, watching Lightsider admire some ancient calligraphy. “Most
of my artworks aren’t on display. I rotate them.” “Moving
your collection from place to place must be quite difficult,” Lightsider
mentioned, idly picking up one of the crackers and taking a bite. “I’m not
sure I could trust any of these things being moved by anyone but myself.” She
chuckled in reply. “When you have the Shadows at your disposal . . . space is
not a problem.” she held up a hand. “Though this place is not created by
that. A bending of physical reality and physics.” Lightsider
grinned, and took the other soda. “Standard practice here in Megatokyo, or so
I’ve heard. I’d have asked C-kun to do the same for me in my apartment, but I
really don’t need the room.” She made
faces at him. “You’d be buried in laundry if you had more room. What is it
about single men not being able to keep their places neat? Mess is strangling
to the senses.” Lightsider
sighed. “I really should be more tidy, I guess. My grandmother was always
after me for that. She always did like things on the side of neatness.” “Easy
habit to break, when you’re hardly home, I suppose.” she waved it away. “Now…
you wanted to talk in a more private setting.” a smile again quirked her
lips. “We cannot get more private than this.” Lightsider
smiled, and told her the story of his past, his love and his crime. For some
reason, telling Shadowdancer the story was easy, as if he were simply
retelling a fairy tale, instead of his own dark past. Perhaps
he instinctively knew that she would understand. As he
spoke, Shadowdancer felt herself grow cold. She did not know what it was, but
there was something incredibly familiar about his tale… something that she
should know, something…. She felt… no, she knew… but when she tried to grasp it, it slipped out of reach, as
insubstantial as mist. She tried to force herself to listen to his tale more
clinically, to begin her role as Curse-Breaker, but found her normally
ordered thoughts scattering. Her heart hammered in her ears. What is this feeling? Why do his words
stir me so? His tale is unfamiliar, but at the same time… It is like I should know more…. “Are you
all right?” Lightsider asked. His voice broke her from her musings. “You
seemed distressed for a moment. I’m sorry if my story disturbs you.” The
concern Lightsider felt was written all over his face. “Ah….
No, no, I was thinking. Gomen nasai,
if I spaced out….” Yet, Shadow felt flickers of memory overwhelming her,
especially when hevcame to the part of the tale where he had turned
everything for miles around into ashes…. Ashes…. She
forced the memory away. She did not need her shattered grieving to break her
now. Lightsider
considered Shadowdancer’s expression. For an instant, there was just a
flicker of… what was it? Sorrow? Surprise? Hope? Lightsider shook his head
again, just a little. He was imagining things. She
leaned back, sipping her coke thoughtfully, her eyes revealing the analysis
her mind was unraveling. After a length, she spoke. “Your curse is a strange
one… you were cursed because of destroying the love you had. The obvious
conclusion is that you must redeem yourself through love, in order to free
yourself from the Kami-curse…. But
they have made it difficult for you to fall in love again.” “At the
same time, you were blessed so that you may be given the chance to redeem
yourself.” “Because
of your kawaii sensitivity, you
cannot love a woman easily - surely, you cannot find yourself living very
normally with her - you are immortal, cursed and grief will be certain.” She
paused. “But you can free yourself by finding the love you betrayed, and fall
in love with her, and have her love you back.” They
started the serious research after this, with Shadow pulling down tome after
musty tome, and Lightsider explaining, filling in details, and giving
information, deductions and speculations about his curse and its mechanism.
Shadow seemed especially interested in the fact that Lightsider had seen
several Kami, not just one, at the
moment of his curse and rebirth. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to tell which
had spoken, or if all had, or if they’d taken turns. All their voices sounded
the same to his ears, male and female both. The sun
was beginning to set when the doctor opened his mouth to answer yet another
line of interest, when the subtle thump, thump of a rave in progress filtered
into the room. Shadowdancer
cocked her head sideways listening. Then she leaped up in alarm. “Oh no! I’m
late!” “Late?”
Lightsider asked. “Oh, a rave tonight?” Shadowdancer
smiled. “Yeah, but if I were going alone, I wouldn’t mind being a bit late….” Lightsider
looked at her curiously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a date.” The last
word stuck in his chest for some reason, but he covered it effectively. “I
should be getting home myself.” “Hold on
a moment. I’ll walk you out. Just give me a few moments.” Shadow darted to a
walk-in closet cleverly hidden in the wall, then vanished into what
Lightsider guessed was the bathroom. “Kyaa… I
don’t have much time to get ready. This outfit will just have to do.” she
muttered, while pulling the chopsticks out of her hair. It cascaded down her
back, soft and whispering like living silk. Then, she vanished into the
bathroom Lightsider
stared after her for a heartbeat. He’d not thought of it before, but Shadow’s
hair was as long as Tohru’s. Lightsider shook himself, and reminded himself
that Shadow was only an acqu… a friend. He
thumbed through some of the arcane texts littered on the table in front of
him, then stood up to look at some of the more interesting paintings. He
really didn’t seem like he was looking at them at all. 1 The Japanese art of metal in or on lacquer. The maki-e
technique entails scattering tiny pieces of various sizes and colors of
flattened, cut metal onto wet lacquer in order to produce elegant patterns or
pictures in sparkling gold and/or silver. 2 Arguably one of the greatest Japanese swordsmiths of all time,
lived during the late 13th to early 14th centuries. 3 Literally, “I’m very, very sorry.” But, in this context, a
grateful acceptance.
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