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His dreams always started with smoke. It was suffocating, the overpowering smell of fire and ash burning his lungs, embers and soot-filled heat chafing on his skin—but the worst of it was always the blindness that followed. His eyes became dry and hazy, unable to see anything but blurred smudges of orange and grey.
Still, he was always running in those dreams, looking for something.
Someone.
The ever present pikes of terror shooting down his neck, dread and anxiety crushing what little air he breathed from his diaphragm. Legs burning from the flames beating at his feet, leaden with exhaustion that went deeper than bone. He could never pinpoint when he started screaming, and yet he remembered how the hoarse croak of his voice mixed with the snapping roars of fire. He remembered choking on the smoke-heavy air, his throat made of chalk as each shout grated his vocal chords like a hail of sharp stone on brittle wood.
And then he fell. (He’d always fall)
He would fall deep inside a pit of shadows reaching with their ice cold tendrils to seep the fever from his skin and replace his flesh with ice, words of a guilty conscience and the echoes of a tortured man jumping across the walls of his black prison.
It always ended with a seaside cliff. Frozen to the wall and cradled inside chains of obsidian and onyx, he watched as a familiar silhouette sat at the edge. The man would sing, softly, and smile at the ocean like they were old friends.
And then the cliff would crumble and the man would tumble, still singing a melody that didn’t exist with the serenity of an undisturbed lake.
Atsurou jolted awake, as usual, covered in sweat with a strangled scream dying in his throat.
As always, he wiped unshed tears from his eyes.
As always.
---
Atsurou Tamaki, age thirty, was a detective in the police force who specialized in missing persons cases. He looked plain and unassuming, just another man in the sea of society.
His eyes spoke differently. They were hollow, full of exhaustion and grief that had yet to fade even after so many years. They were the eyes of a man who had lost everything.
Ivory Wong, age twenty-one, was a university student majoring in graphic design. She looked tired and boring, just your average college student juggling classes and part time jobs.
Her eyes spoke differently. They were bright, full of pain and a determination that still fought even after such a long time. They were the eyes of a woman who refused to lose any more.
The two were friends, bonded over their shared loss. They understood each other in a way others didn’t, in a way others couldn’t.
Kentaro Tamaki, Atsurou’s younger twin brother, went missing at the age of seventeen. His case went cold two years later. Atsurou had never stopped searching for him.
Katrina Wong, Ivory’s younger twin sister, went missing at the age of sixteen. Her case went cold three years later. Ivory had never stopped searching for her.
---
Atsurou looked out of the window of the cafe, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his fingers. The clinks and plinks and whirrs and chirrs from coffee machines and dishware mixed with the soft chatter and pitter-patter of customers to create a low hum of white noise. The dimmed, warm lighting and muffled hustle-bustle confined in such a small space of wooden furniture woven expertly into unique formations provided both comfort and an interesting aesthetic.
There was the constant comfort of the sharp scent of espresso and the slight hint of mocha hanging heavily in the air. He closed his eyes, relishing in the calming buzz in the atmosphere and the blanketing warmth wrapped around him. Few places in the city were as welcoming as this small, family run coffee shop.
Bringing dark coffee cradled in pale porcelain up to his lips, he watched as people came and went from the store. The harsh smoothness of the drink lingered on his tongue, with the tingle of bitterness clinging to the back of his throat, its heat spreading through his chest and down to his fingers.
“Hey.” A soft yet firm voice spoke from his side, the familiar sound settling his mind into further peace. Atsurou looked up and into a pair of eyes the same color as his own. Swirls of dark, chocolate-brown eyes glowing with amusement looked back, laughing in the way they always were.
“Hey.” He took another sip of the coffee before putting it down, the quiet clink of porcelain on porcelain resounding in his ears as he placed the cup back on its matching saucer. He gave her a small smile before he spoke. “How was class? Heard there was a new professor this semester.”
Ivory grinned as she dropped her backpack on the floor and slid into the seat across from his, a steaming mug of cocoa sitting snugly her hands. She set off on a rant about how the new professor had ridiculously high standards and had already given them a handful of assignments to complete by the end of the week. He simply bobbed his head and smiled, content with listening to his friend.
Ivory paused in her tirade to watch him, studying him closely. “What? Do I have something on my face?” he half-joked.
Ivory chuckled as she shook her head before responding. “You look different is all.” She lifted her cocoa to her lips, looking out the window to try and hide the smug gleam in her eyes.
Atsurou snorted. “Good different or bad different?”
Ivory laughed, a new sharpness in her smile. “Hey! When have I ever had anything bad to say about you?” Atsurou shot her an incredulous look.
“Often, everyday, whenever you find an opening to. One of your favorite pastimes is insulting me and others around you.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Whatever.” she hesitated for a moment before speaking again, eyes distant. “You look better. Less--less tired.”
Atsurou paused, hesitant to share--just in case it turned out to be nothing (again). Eventually, he relented and spoke, voice low. “I found a lead.” He talked slowly, caution in his heart. “On both of them. They were spotted in the same area, walking together.” He was met by a sudden silence, save for the now distant buzz of activity behind them.
Ivory simply gave him a look of surprise. She found her voice again after a minute and asked, “You have a lead and you’re not chasing it down like you life depends on it?”
The muffled sounds from outside slammed back full volume as Atsurou released a heavy breath of air, expelling the tension in his core. Relieved.
Atsurou smiled ruefully, still feeling slightly bitter about his situation. “Captain Yale’s making me use some of my vacation time since it’s been building up a bit. Hasn’t let me near my desk for two days and refuses to let me work any cases from home.”
Ivory’s eyes lit up with mirth as she cackled, wheezing. “You--he--oh my God , he actually did that--” She chortled, pounding her fist against the table as she gasped for air.
Atsurou glared at her sullenly, mumbling a half-hearted “Shut up” while burying his face in his hands to hide the smile spreading on his lips. “If all you’re going to do is mock me, then you might as well leave me to enjoy my coffee in peace.” She snickered at that, muttering something about adults and coffee addicts under her breath.
“Oh, shut up. You’re an adult, too, you know.”
From there, they continued with their usual banter, back and forths of fond insults and silly jokes. At some point, Ivory had pulled one of her many sketchbooks from her backpack and had begun sketching the people around them. Atsurou watched the loose yet careful strokes of her pencil, lines soft and smudging as her palms rubbed at the page. The slight shine of the silvery-grey of graphite smeared across her wrist, and the faint scratching sounds of pencil on paper filled his senses.
They stayed like that for a while, before an alarm went off on Ivory’s phone and she had to pack to leave for her afternoon class. Having no more reason to stay, Atsurou left a tip before making his way out of the small cafe and into the frigid onslaught of winter wind outside.
Shoving his fingers into the pockets of his coat, he began to make his way back to his apartment, located a good ways away from the quaint little shop.
The streets were quiet, each step resounding and echoing loudly in his ears. The wind moaned a morose melody and roached with ice-cold spindles to rake at his skin, and he hummed a humorous hymn in response, balling fingers into fists crammed into deep pockets of slight warmth. Time seemed to blow away with the icy wind as he neared the bridge. He was still blocks away when he heard the far-away roar of ocean water and the crash of waves.
The monotonous monochrome of his melancholy meandering came to a halt once he reached the bridge, slightly rusted at the edges and a faded blue-grey paint covering the steel. It shouldn’t have caught his attention, but something felt off. More so than the usual shadow that stalked across his vision. His concern caused him to creep, oh, so cautiously, closer.
There was a girl, sitting on the edge of the bridge beyond the rails with a man. Neither moved, their matching crimson scarves batting at the wind that snatched at the tassles. They felt familiar in a strangely unfamiliar way. Atsurou was close enough to see them clearly in no time, his tarrying treads thumping lightly on concrete.
They were just sitting, watching the water below them swirl in a spiral of black and inky twilight-blue, constellations of bubbles and clouds of sea foam slipping across the surface. They were relaxed, without a single care in the world.
He stopped right behind them, about to warn them that it was dangerous, that they could fall, toppling over the edge into the unforgiving ocean that would tear shreds into them and leave the pieces awash on jagged stone. His eyes chased the whips of red, flailing back and forth, burning the bright color into his mind. He reached out, fingers outstretched and a string of words caught, strangled, in his throat.
All it took was a single strong gust of wind that sent the girl slip, sliding, swept away into raging ripping waters. Time slowed, or rather, it froze, as though the ‘film’ called life stopped rolling for a fraction of universal time. One second, two seconds, three seconds, four. Atsurou’s blurry vision snapped back into focus, caught a glimpse of the girl’s face.
His body stiffened with shock at what he saw. A round face, rosy cheeked with calf-brown cat eyes widened just a fraction, thin lips parted in surprise. Her shoulder-length brown-black hair blown back and away from her face in spirals of tendrils reaching back towards safety.
She looked exactly like Ivory, save for the small birthmark below her left eye.
Atsurou was unsure how he managed to move in the liquid glass air, time had paused and therefore so should he. And yet, he could not—would not—watch her fall.
Life was short but it ended so sweet
He pushed forward in the quicksilver holding him down, jumping over the railing and onto the ledge, fingers closing around her arm and pulling her towards him.
I wonder when, again we’ll meet?
Time resumed its normal pace, his last ditch desperation paying off as the girl fell back onto the bridge with a quiet thump .
Beneath the lamplight of the Dark Nighttime Street.
Atsurou pitched forward and over the rails he had leaned over, the unfortunate downside of helping the girl to safety.
Time sure was fun, but at what cost?
He snatched a fleeting glance of the man’s face as he fell, clouded with horror and tight with pain, eyes flashing with regret.
A price to pay to find something lost
A square jaw, black hair and deep brown eyes looked back at him, calloused fingers outstretched, grabbing, reaching, just as his very own had mere moments before.
Caught in Death’s embrace in the air they’re tossed.
He looked just like him.
Oh! Our time, it’s come to an end
Atsurou smiled back, eyes shut, as he tumbled through the air--a single phrase fluttering past his lips in.
Oh! How sad for you, for me, my friend!
“Mitsuketa.”
But will you get the message I’ll send?
And he fell, down, down, do w n , d o w n .
Oh! I hope you got the letter from the boy ‘round the bend.