All the characters belong to Toei. If they were mine, there’d be an Adventure 04 by now. However, seeing as how much Frontier rocks, it’s perhaps a good thing they actually do belong to Akiyoshi Hongo. ^.^

Thanks to all of you for your kind words and patience. I hope this chapter meets your (high) expectations.

A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

CHAPTER 19

THE SOUND OF WAVES

“What game are you playing tonight, Takaishi, because it certainly isn’t basketball!? Pick it up, or you’re on the bench. I don’t care if you’re the captain or not,” Mr Toriyama, the basketball coach, yelled, as yet another of Takeru’s shots at hoop bounced off the backboard and was picked up by the other team.

Takeru barely heard his angry words, mechanically turning and running to the other side of the court in pursuit. He leapt to intercept his opponent’s shot, snatching the ball in midair and passing it off to one of his teammates. Watanabe dribbled it the length of the court, then finished the move with a perfect jumpshot. The crowd cheered, but he hardly noticed them either.

“Much better, Takaishi! Good skills, Watanabe! Nice teamwork!”

As he jogged back to take the ball, Takeru glanced up at the scoreboard. There were fifteen minutes to go, before the game was done and he could get out of there. Impatience rose in him. I should be finding a way of getting Hikari back from the Dark Ocean, not playing a stupid, pointless game. But how can I even get to her, if she is underneath it? He had no more answers to those questions than he had had the previous night.

Shaking his head to clear it, he passed the ball off to Tanaka, who dodged his defender to dribble it down the court. Takeru sprinted after them, hours of training obviating the need for conscious thought about what to do. Tanaka fired the ball across the court to him, but the boy marking Takeru stretched out an arm and snatched it out of the air with ease. Running it down the court, he popped it into the net for an easy two points.

“Defence, Takaishi!” the coach called.

His opposite number smirked at him, as he bounced the ball back to the centre of the court and took the pass. This time, it was Watanabe who intercepted it and threw it back to Takeru. Dribbling it quickly to the key, he leapt to take a shot at the basket. The ball rolled around the rim of the hoop, before dropping out of it. Fortunately, Tanaka was there to catch it, and popped it into the net for another two points.

“Good catch, Tanaka! Shape up, Takaishi!”

As he jogged back to the center of the court, Takeru looked across at the clock on the scoreboard again and wondered how fifteen minutes could pass so very slowly.

***

Takeru rubbed his hair dry as he stepped out of the shower. The rest of the team had already left to celebrate their victory with a pizza, and the changing-rooms were empty. He had told them that he would catch up with them, but that he had some people to see before he did. It wasn’t exactly a lie - the coach had wanted to speak to him about his miserable performance on the court that night - but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. The truth was that he felt even less like celebrating than he had like playing. Getting off the court had done nothing to lessen his sense of restlessness. No matter where he was, he wasn’t where he was supposed to be: at Hikari’s side, protecting her from the monsters.

Throwing his wet towel into his locker for the moment, he pulled on a clean, white t-shirt and a faded pair of jeans. He seated himself on the bench to put on his socks and shoes. He made a face as he picked up his sneakers and laced them onto his feet. If he didn’t wash them before the next game, they’d come dangerously close to be being biological weapons. Finished dressing, he retrieved his towel and put it with his dirty kit in the bag.

As he left the school, the sun was already sinking in the west, a circle of blood in a gold-streaked sky. He had meant to go to the celebration at the pizza place, as a good captain would, but found himself heading to the beach instead. At this time of day, it was peaceful and almost deserted. Boats drifted serenely beneath the arching bridge, their sails like the white wings of birds, and the only occasional car swished along the road that ran parallel to it.

Sand crunching beneath his sneakers, he walked down to where the sea lapped against the shore. White foam swirled around his feet, water soaking coldly through his shoes and socks. He stared out across the grey and featureless expanse of water. As always, his thoughts returned to Yagami Hikari, fathoms deep and unreachable beneath the Dark Ocean. It had been here that he had been able to get to her last time.

Although it had been almost three years since Dagomon’s last attempt, he remembered the events of that day with perfect clarity. He had been looking for her at this exact place when she had suddenly appeared in the sky, arms outspread and a plea for help on her lips. Without a second thought, he had leapt to meet her, and had fallen for a thousand miles through light and noise and heat. Hikari had pulled him across to her with a force more irresistable than the tides.

“Hikari?” he called, his voice blown away by the salt-breeze, “Can you hear me? Hikari?”

The only reply was the sound of waves.

***

“Yes, Coach Toriyama, Takeru did make it safely home,” Natsuko said into the telephone, “He was already asleep when I got back from the office, so I’m not sure why he wasn’t at the team party afterwards. He told me this afternoon that he was going to go.”

“Good to hear it, Ms Takaishi. I was just checking up on the kid,” the man replied gruffly, “Tell him I’ll see him at practice on Monday.”

“I do appreciate your concern, coach. Enjoy the rest of your weekend,” Natsuko put down the receiver with a sigh. It looked like she wasn’t the only one worried about her youngest son. Ever since Hikari had gone missing, it was like a stranger had taken Takeru’s place. The sunny, friendly boy she had known had disappeared to be replaced by a loner who had withdrawn from anyone who cared about him. Maybe it was time to think about professional help, although she had always shrunk from the idea of a psychologist. She would talk to Takeru’s father and see what he thought about it.

Shaking her head, she walked to the door to her son’s bedroom and opened it a fraction to check on him. He was sprawled across his bed, his one arm dangling over its side and the other wrapped around a fold of sheet. His forehead was creased and glistened with sweat, and he was muttering something to himself as if he were having a nightmare.

Feeling helpless, Natsuko crossed the room to his bedside and kissed him lightly on a flushed cheek, then whispered the same words that she had always used to say to him when he was a little child, “Dreams as sweet as you are, my Takeru.”

***

A strange, twisted castle rises up in the deeps, more like a shell than anything built of stone or rock. Its tip barely crests the waves, and white foam swirls around it. Sweet, wild music seems to come from it. One moment, it is the keening of the gulls; the next, a dolphin’s fluid, tumbling laughter; the next, a low, clear note that echoes from the Jurassic; the next, the sound of waves hush all too silence.

Ssssssh. Speak not of what you do not understand.

He walks through the corridors, his footsteps sounding too loud to his own ears. The castle is as strange inside as it is outside, he thinks. Bleached ribs arch overhead him, and the walls glow the faint, phosphorescent green of the eye of the hunter. In front of him, a white light wavers and he begins to run towards it. Distantly, the waves whisper caution.

Ssssssh. Tread not the halls of the dying god.

Panting, he reaches the light, but he is too late and it has faded to a red glow. He looks down to see that he is standing in blood. It soaks up his jeans, dying them crimson. In horror, he stumbles backwards, but he cannot ever escape the blood. It is scarlet-slick along almost the whole corridor now, shining in the pale light. Even the waves will not wash it clean.

Ssssssh. Question not the rituals of blood and pain.

Suddenly, he sees a young girl lying in the middle of the blood, and he realises it is all spreading slowly out from her. He runs to help her, his feet slipping and splashing through the red liquid, but she is not injured. She is weeping, and all her tears are blood. When he gets near, she hides her face in her hands, as if ashamed that he see her. The waves try and murmur comfort.

Ssssssh. Argue not against implacable destiny.

“Hikari, is that you?”

Surprised, she lifts her face to him and he gently wipes away the bloody tears with a corner of his shirt. She is very white and her eyes are swollen with weeping, but she is beautiful to him. She smiles up at him, and all the blood around them vanishes.

“My Takeru.”

“I love you,” he whispers, pulling her into his arms and burying his head into her hair, “I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you.”

“Love is a powerful weapon,” a terrible, beautiful voice says, “But it is not mine.”

***

Breathing heavily, Takeru untangled himself from his sweaty sheets and sat upright in bed. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, then looked around his room. Filtering through his blinds, the moonlight formed pale stripes on the floor and washed everything grey. His books on his shelves, his posters on the wall, his photographs on his desk, everything was a colourless imitation of itself. It felt so real, but it was all a dream. Even though I was so sure . . . .

It was then that he realised he could still hear the sound of waves in the distance. The soft, sad sighing of water against the shore was unmistakable. His heart began to pound in his chest, as he climbed out of bed. The Dark Ocean. It’s near.

“Hikari?” he called, “Hikari-chan! Can you hear me?”

“TAKERU!” her agonised cry tore through the room, “TAKERU!”

He froze, unable to move or think. For three months, he had heard her voice calling him in dreams and delusions, but this was real. He was awake, he was not imagining it, this was real. He had called and she had answered him and he would bring her home like he had done the last time and she would be safe with him forever. All of this was real.

“NO! STOP IT!” she screamed, and he snapped out of whatever trance in which he had been.

Pushing aside the sheets, he leapt out of bed. His hands curled into fists at his side, “HIKARI! I’M COMING!”

Suddenly, he was aware of a strange light playing over the surface of the mirror, as if the reflective glass had become water. Instinctively, he ran to the other side of the room to look into it. The image inside was blurred and indistinct, but he could just make out what it was. It was Hikari’s face, whiter than he had ever seen it, cuts and new bruises shockingly red against her pale skin. Tears slid down her cheeks.

Hot anger surged up in him. He would kill whoever had hurt her like that! He would make them pay a hundred times for every single cut and bruise they had inflicted on her!

“HIKARI!”

“Please . . .” she whispered, “Come to me.”

“Yes, I’m coming,” he replied simply, and fell through light and noise and heat to meet her. . . .

***

TO BE CONTINUED

***