Chapter 2

If I were to recall the following days after the meeting of this mysterious girl, I would say that it brought out the worst in me. The fatal flaw has been revealed; in the end she would be my undoing.

Before this meeting, I’d been content, I suppose; I can’t recall the emotion clearly. But afterwards, I remember an increasing sense of dread.

Naturally, my existence continued to jolt forward without any differences or excitement, and thus this point in time was rather boring. I do believe, however, it was this point that was rather crucial in understanding my situation; my arrogance and supremacy only helped to isolate me.

Considering we, as an outlining border, were not as indulged as the inner city, it was inevitable that such a group of boys would end up stealing. Indeed, it was stealing that put us in the path of that odd little girl.

I won’t deny my infatuation. My interest in her kept me from ordering the boys around, and thus we did not partake in any secret jobs or looting for a few days. Unsurprisingly when I launched myself from the ground and into the market place, they lazily called after me but made no attempt to follow.

I’ve never been particularly good at expressing my emotions. This moment in time was no different; as I walked into the centre of the market place I remembering wondering about nonsensical and useless things that really didn’t need any thought. I understand now that these were symptoms of shock " the shock of my meaningless existence.

Soon, the sun died behind the clouds, and the light pattering of rain resounded throughout the square. The people began to melt away and I, too, retreated undercover, but did not leave the marketplace.

Had I left, I wouldn’t have noticed the girl ahead of me, dragging boxes out of the rain. She was engaged in conversation with one of the women who owned the stall. I feel obliged to warn you I had no intention of approaching the girl. In dire respect, I retreated further under cover, and turned away. Perhaps it was the confident look on her face, a look that screamed purpose.

Behind her were three older men, frustration pervading their faces. They were eager to leave, and were making no attempt to aid the girl. Instead, they yelled, “Nada!” harshly, and despite her attempt to shut them out, on occasion she swung around to them, and waved them down.

“Nada…” I murmured out loud, bringing my hand to rest above my eyes to shield them from the stray light that filtered through the cloud. I smiled at the name; nothing.

How ironic, I thought, to have a name that means “nothing” but a look that screams everything.

I turned back to the girl, who had laughed light-heartedly at something her audience had said. She placed the box beside the woman’s foot and shot her hand out to meet the other. They exchanged a few words before she turned and saw me. Water ran down her robes to her feet and a wide smile spread slowly across her porcelain-like face. I couldn’t help but admire it.

The one thing I’ll never forget about this scene was the feeling of realisation when I noticed it. On her upper right arm was a band made of cloth. She noticed where my eyes had landed and touched the band softly before meeting my eyes.

“Nada!” One of the men called hoarsely from the nearby tree. The smile vanished from her features, a cloud of darkness replacing it.

“I’m coming!” she called over her shoulder to the owner of the voice and the shouting stopped. Nada’s face lightened as she looked up to me.

I could see she was about to say something, but then she paused and covered the band with her hand. She let go of it suddenly, and retreated backwards, thumb pointing behind her. I nodded once and she smiled coyly. The air swirled in response as she turned. Walking away from me Nada’s mouth widened into a strained half-smile before the rain and darkness consumed her.

It was a simple scene, really, but it baffled me. I bit my lip, remembering the cloth band. She worked for the Soul Tower. I chuckled to myself. Well, no wonder. She was a magnificent example of the values the Soul Tower promised to uphold, and yet I couldn’t help the feeling of disgust that entered my system.

I wiped the rain from my eyes, and moved undercover. People had cleared out pretty quickly, and so when I spotted a figure in a similar situation to my own, I yelled over to it. Half-way through yelling I paused; what had overcome me to call over to a stranger?

The figure snapped its head around to face me, and jogged across the square. The figure became a man; he was dressed in finery and had drenched dark hair. He brushed it from his eyes and stood to my left.

If it had been any other day, I would have left immediately and trudged home, but there was something about the fact the man had stayed out in the rain that interested me.

He cleared his throat, but said nothing.

I turned to him and was about to start conversation when my eyes wandered down his right arm. They met the arm band of a Soul Tower associate.

Shit.

I bit my lip and looked away. Judging from the way he was dressed he was the head of a Division.

Shit.

I had had no idea I was considered that much of a menace. I rolled my eyes. Nada. Yes, Nada must have reported me and the gang. In fact, they’d probably already been rounded up. I was so caught up in these thoughts I didn’t notice the hand that had shot out in front of me. I looked to it, and then up at the man it belonged to.

He raised an eyebrow and bent his head slightly. It was a questioning gaze, and I looked away to avoid it, casually scraping my foot to the right in an attempt to get away.

He snorted suddenly and retracted his hand to his side. “My name’s Hiruko.”

I looked around. “That’s great,” I murmured, “Japanese?”

He nodded once and looked toward me.

“You don’t look Japanese,” I said, moving another step away.

“Aaron-” He began.

I felt the pit of my stomach open. My heart began to race and I looked around, hoping for some way of escape. He was from the Soul Tower to arrest me. After years of petty thieving and I had invited my captor over to arrest me. He looked to me and frowned with large blue eyes and tilted his head.

“It’s coming.” His voice was reasonably smooth but the tone he was using showed a slight restraint in his voice, as though he didn’t want to sound scared.

“What?”

He sighed and turned away. “Nothing,” he murmured, pulling a card out of his pocket. He handed it to me and walked away.

I paused and turned to where Hiruko had stood. “What?” I said again, but then the pounding of the rain was too much and the heat in my head was making me tired.

*****

From then on it was hazy. I trudged back in the dark, sodden and perplexed. The night lasted for hours, although I had been certain it was in the early hours of the morning when I finally managed to pull myself through the doorway.

My head was spinning. I couldn’t see very far ahead of me and the heat in my head made it impossible to rest well. Thus I found myself lying awake but drifting in and out of a restless and warped replay of the evening’s events.

There was no noise. Footsteps were silent, voices, however hard they struggled to produce some sound, silent. She was smiling in the distance, long black hair dancing with the air, her voice alone managing to drift far, meeting the lane as it wove up. Far ahead, the cloak of white she now wore stood out against the night and a small shadow that pranced out from underneath it wove his way through her legs.

“It’s coming.”

The cat purred and disappeared under her feet. She stood undaunted by its words, laughing as her name was called, whistling in the air to finally reach her ears. Still laughing against the wind and purring as she twirled her way into the night, vanishing to claim her name.

And then the beating of drums was no longer the rain but the sound of a pounding heart, healing from what was left of it…

When I woke, I shot up to be greeted by a dull throbbing in my head. My hand jumped to meet it and I lowered myself back down onto the bed. I had crashed my way through the door the previous night; clothes and objects where strung all over the room. Remembering with odd clarity the dream from the night before, I frowned. Slowly, I pushed myself off the bed, whipping up a few clothes from the floor and changing hurriedly. As I was doing so, the odd man’s card fell out of my pocket and onto the floor. I paused and pondered it for a second before reaching down and picking it up. It was laid out with contact details, a name, a number and a street address. He was Hiruko, Head of the 2nd Division of the Soul Tower. There was no last name. There really didn’t need to be a last name.

The moment I stepped outside my door I was greeted by Brian who looked a little more aghast than usual. He was wringing his hands together and smiled sheepishly as he confronted me. “Listen…” He began and I turned away immediately. I could smell the rot of alcohol on his breath and shot him a quick, “No,” before moving away, clambering into my jacket as the boy followed me hurriedly.

“Aaron!”

“No.” I said again.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear,” he pleaded behind me.

“Just like you swore the other three times?”

“I need to pay Johnny for-,” and I swung around to meet his apologetic smile.

“You said you weren’t gonna get involved with him again,” I said, frustrated. It was common sense to stay away from that man. I frowned. “How’d you even make it to the Eastern Border without anyone noticing?”

We weren’t allowed to cross over borders. The only place you could meet anyone from other borders was in the communal city, the centre, the Soul Tower.

“We met at the Soul Tower. We always do that, it’s less obvious that way,” I snorted at this and he continued, “And it’s not much, promise,” I turned to him once more, raising an eyebrow, “Just a little. And then I’m out.”

“You’re never just out.” I murmured. “Trust me.”

He bit his lips and shrugged again. I sighed and turn away. “I spent four years of my life with people like Johnny.” Before I knew it I was pulling out my wallet and Brian had this huge grin plastered onto his face. I pulled his hand out and placed the cash slowly in his palm, “Last time, Brian. You tell him you’re out, that you mean it, that you don’t want anything to do with this anymore. Let him play on the youngsters in the Eastern Border, they’re more desperate.” Brian nodded continuously. “I mean it. You’re out. You’re out, now, or you’re on your own.” He was off in a flash, dashing around corners, still smiling.

Idiot.

Dave greeted me next and I gave him a look that said I wanted nothing to do with him.

“Look, we’re bored,” He began and I waved him away and continued walking.

“Just do whatever, Dave. Figure something out with Thomas, I really don’t care anymore.”

I could see him out of the corner of my eye behind me, boiling, simmering, biting hard on his lip, and so I paused until he was cooked and ready and he came pounding after me. I turned to meet his fist on my face and the blunt jolt sent me back until I was coughing on the floor. I wiped the blood from my nose away and shot up.

“So, what, you’re just gonna abandon us? After everything we’ve been through?” We were attracting some attention now, turned heads and shuffling bodies trying to escape the scene. Fights only attract Soul Tower officials, and no one’s a fan of them.

“Look, we’re just going to attract some unnecessary attention,” I began, but then he was going for another hit so I moved out of the way and kicked him in the abdomen. He staggered back and sent me a dark look.

“Stop it.” I said, forcefully. “Just do what you want because I’m not in the mood.”

He snickered. It was pitiful, brawling over my disinterest. “You’ve been weird since that girl. What, she got you whipped already?” And it would have been so much easier to hit the boy then to walk away, but I managed it and drew myself away from the scene without another word.

I did not expect to encounter Nada again and so why I stepped out from my room I had no idea. It was a temporary phase of fascination for this girl who seemed to so easily accomplish whatever she put her mind to. There was something that set her aside from the rest of us, something that I couldn’t place, sending my head spinning with obsession for her.

I have been told, irrefutably, and on many occasions, that I lack a heart. I’d like this to be the moment, or one of, that spoils this idea.

You see, as I rounded the corner, there she was. Shining, beautiful, just as she’d been the afternoon before, except she appeared - I paused, and frowned, because I hadn’t seen the look on her face for many a year, and the first time I’d seen it, it had been through reflective glass, shining back a stricken child, helpless, pathetic and weak - myself.

Disgust poisoned my lungs for a second and I turned away. The look on that girl’s face was one of desperation, and I knew instantly why she was here. She wanted to talk. Oh yes, to talk, for me to listen, but nothing more. Desperate for attention, not connection; attention is a state of loneliness that results in nothing but a short-sustained satisfaction. I sighed. Brutally, I was reminded of my sister, for a sharp, solid second, and the shiver that ran up my limbs was not entirely unkindly, but it was not something I enjoyed.

I ran out after her. I never once went back to that house in the four years it took for me to die. I often wonder if I destroyed my parent’s lives.

I hadn’t known whether she lived or died, and so when I ended up where I had, I searched for ages and ages, spending an incomprehensible amount of time in the central city, waiting for her to wander by. She never did. Though I doubt she’s still alive.

Nada was in front of me. I jumped, surprised, and stepped back, turning away. “What?” I snapped, but there was no bite to the word as it left my mouth, and it seemed her shimmering eyes understood because she did not react.

“People keep staring at me. Why is that?” She cocked her head slightly, frowning.

My brow furrowed and my hand shot out to the patch on her right arm. I snagged the patch off, to her protest, and grabbed her by the arm. “If you wanna walk around here like you’re all high and mighty, wear the patch.” I flipped her wrist over and slapped the cloth into her palm. “If not…” I turned around and continued walking. Several people snapped their heads back as I walked.

“People from the tower don’t usually venture to the Borders,” I murmured, “You should know that by now.”

“Should I?” Her eyes flicked around at the people who were looking at her. She scowled and followed suit, stuffing the patch into her pocket and scurrying after me.

“You want to speak to me or something?” I asked, turning to her and walking backwards. She looked unimpressed, disinterested, slowly meeting my eyes with a quick nod. “Sure.”

I smiled, outwardly- inwardly, grimaced. There’s a certain satisfaction one can achieve when talking to someone who’s going to die. They’ve hit rock bottom, stared head first into the certainty of death, but the lack of hope doesn’t cause chaos but an acceptance of fate. You talk about your life, they talk about theirs " a mutual connection, nothing less. When you’re talking with someone who’s already dead, well, no one could care less about your problems. And that was exactly my situation. She was gorgeous, sure, but that’s all I cared about.

We reached my residence easily. It was a squashed little house, spread out into two storeys, but that was simply foolery. There was a single room upstairs, a cramped kitchen and a front room. Somewhere in those few centimetres left they’d managed a bathroom, and you had to go through the back door in the bathroom to reach the communal garden that consisted of a simple courtyard and overgrown weeds. The house itself looked ready to crumble. The doors constantly groaned and the stairs were ready to cave in. They never had, but one day for sure…

The front door always stuck. That’s how I found myself asking for something of assistance, Nada pushing against the part of the door jamb and me kicking repeatedly against the pane. It eventually gave in and groaned open.

I sniffed, gesturing for her to enter.

She stepped cautiously over the rot and decay of clothes that lined the floor and stepped into the front room. Slight chagrin built up on her face and she attempted to mask it with a simple smile. I’d been living in the wreckage for years and barely noticed it, and so I shrugged. What did I care about the opinion of a Soul Tower Official, anyhow?

“Look, I think we need to talk,” she called hastily as I wandered into the kitchen.

“Thought you wanted a drink?” I asked, reaching around for a mug or two. Both were chipped but they were all I had.

“Well, yeah…” She murmured. “Yeah.” She said again, and she sat quickly as I came back into the room with watered down tea in a chipped cup. I couldn’t afford wasting the leaves all on a visitor.

“Aaron Mort,” I said, reaching out my hand. She sipped the tea with something of caution I saw the bitter look as she tasted the watery combination- and put the mug down, reaching out her own, “Nada Ito.”

“I died two years ago.”

“I died three months ago.”

I withdrew my hand, frowning. Three months? It had taken her three months to become an official?

And then, immediately, she launched into her story and I sighed, sinking back into the chair, barely listening. But the way she spoke, not looking at me, as if trusting to me to have interest in her words… it was disconcerting. “I met a man,” she said, “When I was alive. We had a very nice conversation, and then two months later I’m in a hospital bed and I look up, and there he is. The man I’d met. He leans down,” she murmurs, bringing her hand to her face, “and he whispers, ‘Sleep’, and out of the corner of my eye I see him cut the life support.” She paused and looks away, “I wake up and there he is, the man, and he tells me he’s come to take me away.” She smiled. “It was all very odd. Out of the sky appeared this great wooden door, like they say happens in films, when you die, you know?” I shook my head and she shrugged. “He takes me through, gets me a job, and then disappears. And I mean it’s not much, the place I have, I-” She immediately paused and looked around and bit her lip. I knew what she had certainly beat what I had.

But what she’d been talking about did not add up, but I was tired as I always was, and so I sipped my tea, and spoke of death and life for an hour more before I stood and opened the door, and we said our goodbyes, and the way I slammed the door said, “I want nothing more than this. This is the extent of our relationship,” because it’s always lovely to have something of convenience, and it always falls down when it’s anything more. That’s what I had learned, and that’s how I intended to live.