The Continent (The Continent #1)(83)
On the fifteenth day after my meeting with the Heads of State, Mr. Vane telephones to inform me that I shall depart on the following day. I pack a few new things into my satchel—a phototype of my mother, father and I, a sack of expensive candy (for Keiji, of course), and eight pairs of elegant silk undergarments. If all that is left of the Spire in me is the desire for pretty underthings, I can live with that. I shall take my pleasures where I can.
This indulgence includes a long, long bath in my mother’s enormous tub. I soak until my fingers and toes are like soft pink raisins, and my skin smells of jasmine from head to toe. How much we take for granted here in the Spire. Hot running water, modern amenities, an abundance of necessities and luxuries alike. And yet, I do so miss the simplicity of life in Hayato. I only wish I were returning with better news.
As darkness falls, I climb into my parents’ bed, thinking of how many times I did so as a child. A nightmare, a shadow—the smallest thing would send me running to the safety of their bedroom. My mother always welcomed me with open arms, her voice the most comforting thing in the world. What I would give to lie beside her now and listen to her sing the sweet lullabies of my youth! What I would give for just one more day with my mother and father, for a lifetime with Noro and Keiji. A life without fear—a life of peace.
I drift to sleep, warm and safe beneath the heavy blankets, and dream of the life I shall never know.
CHAPTER 30
ABOUT A MILE FROM HAYATO, THE HELI-PLANE shifts to a hover in order to set me down. I descend the swaying metal ladder without any trepidation, my feet scarcely touching the ground before I turn and run toward the village. I am invigorated by the musty scent of damp earth and the kiss of the brisk autumn air against my cheeks. With a whisper of a breeze behind me, I race across the plains. The long grasses of the flatland—now the color of burnt cinnamon—crunch noisily beneath my feet as I fly through the valley. The wind moves amongst the trees, rustling sparse golden leaves as though in welcome, and joy stirs within me. For no matter what the future may bring, I am home.
Before long, I come upon the little hilltop that looks down upon the village—the same place where Noro once set me upon my feet—and come to a breathless stop. The late afternoon sun has cast Hayato in amber, and long shadows stretch lazily toward the east. I pause to marvel at the loveliness before me—at the sheer beauty of the Continent—but my eye falls almost at once upon something else: a figure standing just outside the gates below. He is dressed all in black, his hair drawn into a slender, spiky strip along the center of his head, one long leg planted firmly on the ground, one foot up against the wall behind him. He does not see me—not at first. I watch him in his casual repose, his eyes scanning the hillside, his hands thrust into the pockets of his trousers.
And then he looks up.
We are still for a moment, a thousand questions passing silently between us. I feel his rapid assessment of me, sense his tension. He has worried for me—I can see it in his face—perhaps even as much as I have worried for him. And here we are now, each of us safe, each of us returned to the other.
The foot comes down from the wall and Noro thunders up the hillside toward me. I clamber down the slope at an equal pace, and when at last we meet, he lifts me full off the ground, his lips pressing hard against mine, and I almost weep for the joy of it.
“Noro,” I say, my heart nearly broken by happiness, but he only kisses me again. Beams of scattered sunlight pierce the trees above, dancing around us like twinkling stars. Words can wait. I am home.
Night falls, bringing with it a wash of silvery moonlight and a chorus of insects calling out into the darkness. Noro and I sit atop the hillside, our fingers tangled together, our words soft and whispered. We speak of many things: Keiji’s recovery, the turn of the season on the Continent, the patrols moving in and out to monitor the activity of the Topi. The evening slips by, yet neither of us is willing to go home just yet; in this special place, we have only to savor each other’s company.
“You look tired, miyake,” he says. “Did you not sleep well in your time away?”
“Not very well.”
He gives me a nudge. “Too many fine dinners and extravagant hotels?”
“Too many politicians.”
“Ah.” He gestures to the valley. “And yet, the world still spins.”
I laugh. “It’s a wonder it does, I assure you.”
“Help will not come, then?”
I look up at him, my eyes shining with regret. I have dreaded this moment.
My silence says everything, and Noro nods. There is no rebuke, no acknowledgment that this is what he said would come to pass. There is only a softness in his expression, a certain tenderness reflected in his eyes.
“It is just as well,” he says. “Why should others sacrifice for our survival?”
“I did try, Noro. But they…it was not to be.”
“Do not blame yourself.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “Teku Ana and the others did not expect that the Four Nations would intervene. You know this.”
I shake my head. “I still think it shameful. They could do so much good with only a small effort.”
“I only wish you had stayed where you might be safe.”
“Noro…”
He gets to his feet, dusts himself off, and extends a hand to me. “Come, miyake. I cannot keep you all to myself. Keiji would wish to know that you are home. I expect Yuki and Takashi will want to see you as well.”