Chapter Text
“Welcome back.”
A comforting voice that crooned like warm honey greeted him upon his first breath of consciousness.
He was in a space that felt both familiar yet foreign, experiencing the symptoms of déjà vu and nostalgia simultaneously. It was strange; there was nothing around him. No clear picture of scene or setting, although he didn’t believe himself to be in danger. It was as if he was floating on air, or sitting on clouds, yet there was so sense of falling or flying. Just waiting in limbo, an object at rest waiting for another to act upon it.
“Where am I?”
His own voice surprised him. It was deep, and hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it for a very long time. If time existed in such a place.
“Where you are now means little. It’s where you’re going that matters.”
The cryptic answer was both reassuring and unsettling.
“Who are you?”
The voice chuckled.
“Think of me as an unfamiliar friend. Someone who hasn’t been around, but wants to make up for their past transgressions. Someone who has the ability to give you another chance.”
“Another… chance? What do you mean?”
“You’ll understand soon enough. You won’t remember at first, but everything you’ve lost will return to you when the time is right.”
He searched his mind for clues, but nothing came to him. What was he? An entity wandering somewhere between existence and nonexistence? And why was he “here”?
“Why… why me?”
“Why not you? Don’t you feel like there’s something out there waiting for you?”
He paused. Yes, there was this gnawing sense at the center of his being that made him feel restless. Suddenly, the space he was in felt stifling, as if he was an animal in a cage clawing at the iron bars in attempt to return to its home.
Faintly, something (or someone?) called to his heart, from somewhere Out There in a place beyond. A melancholic loneliness that cried out for him and him alone. Imperceptible by the ear, but felt within the soul.
“Yeah… I guess so.”
An unspoken agreement passed between the two beings.
“You won’t be alone. I’m sending you there with someone you know very well. Let your friendship guide you to where you belong.”
Before he could utter a word of thanks, he was consumed by both the light and the dark. It warped around him and packed him down tightly until he fit snugly within the walls of his new home.
He opened his eyes, and let out a shrill cry.
He had returned.
~
Eiji Okumura awoke in a cold sweat, grasping at the air as if there was something important right within his reach. But all he could feel was emptiness.
He stretched his arm to the left and searched for the glass of water he always kept by his bed, knocking some pens and paper to the floor in the process. He found it. Without bothering to sit up, he brought it to his lips and gulped the cool liquid down as if it were the source of life itself. When the glass was empty, he set it back down. He inhaled deeply, slowly returning to a stable state of mind and body.
That dream again. Why was he having it now, of all times?
Eighteen years had passed. There hadn’t been a day he didn’t think of his old friend, the boy with golden hair and eyes the color of precious jade. He had buried his grief long ago, or so he thought, as it often found ways to crawl out of the grave and haunt him during the most wicked hours of the night. Tonight had been no exception.
Normally Ash would pay him a visit, and they’d relive their old memories in the slums of New York with the old gang members surrounding them. Or sometimes they’d be looking over the edge of Cape Cod, shooting coca cola bottles as a way to pass the time in the sleep coastal town. Once, a few years ago, he’d dreamt of that long truck ride to Los Angeles where Ash had pulled a gun on a local man who ended up directing them to the most beautiful sight of the skyline. That was the most vivid one of all.
However, this dream differed from the others. In the end, Aslan Jade Callenreese had given him a special message, and he’d be damned if he forgot it.
“I’ll see you soon, Eiji.”
Eiji clutched the thin sheets of the bed until his knuckles turned bone white.
“What do you mean by that, Ash…?”
He stayed there for a moment or two, until his gaze fell upon the clock. 7:45 AM. Too early to be completely functional, too late to try and get more shut eye. Not that he wanted to go back into the dream world quite yet, anyway.
He slowly got up and made his way to the bathroom.
Then, as he did every morning, he examined his face for abnormalities. A lot had changed in the last two decades, such as the length of his hair, the unshaved stubble on his chin and upper lip, and the amount of wrinkles that made shallow grooves in the skin near his eyes and mouth. But not everything. His eyes were still the shade of deep brown that Ash told him he loved, even though he used to hate dark things. His hair had stayed kept its jet black hue. His smile remained soft and shy.
That is, when he managed to smile.
He was just about to wash his face when he heard his phone going off in the bedroom where he’d left it. He made his way there and answered it immediately when he saw the caller ID.
“Morning, Sing.”
“Damn, why are you up so early Eiji? Ever heard of sleeping in on the weekends?”
Eiji let out a dejected sigh.
“Did you call me just to yell at me, or is there something important you need to discuss?”
“Oh, yeah. Just lettin’ you know that your intern is coming by the studio today. I told him to wait until Monday, but he seemed really eager to meet you. I guess you’re his idol or something.”
Eiji groaned as his ran a hand over the short, prickly hair on his jaw.
“Does it really have to be today?”
“It doesn’t. But you can tell him in person when he shows up. I didn’t have the heart. I think you’ll understand why when you meet him.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Wanna get take out for dinner?”
“God, please no. I can’t stomach another night of rubbery chicken.”
“What if I told you it’s from Chang Dai?”
Eiji flinched as his grip on the phone tightened.
“Goodbye, Sing.”
“Wait, Eiji-!”
He smashed the call end button and threw the phone across the room until it hit the wall with a hard thud.
Damn it, Sing… he thought between gritted teeth. Now is not the time...
Painful memories stained his mind like blood on white clothing. Images of old friends, their faces fading in and out with expressions of sorrow, anguish, joy, fear. It was all too much for him to bear. At 37 years old, he was ready for the pain to end.
He felt hot tears drip down his face and soak the bedsheets beneath him.
~
Two young men wandered down the streets of upper west side Manhattan in the early morning, staring at a mess of scribbled numbers and letters written in chicken scratch on a torn out piece of notebook paper.
They were quite a sight. One of them, a tall blonde boy with broad shoulders and long limbs to match his towering height, and the other a muscular boy with light brown skin and his bright neon hair buzzed on the one side in a punk rock style. If they were anywhere but New York City, they may have gotten suspicious stares or curious glances from passersby. But being the melting pot that it was, they were barely noticed and took on the roles of background characters in the lives of the nameless city residents.
“Uh, Altan, are you sure we’re in the right neighborhood?”
“For the millionth time, yes, this is the address I was given by Mr. Sing.”
“I can barely read this shit. Don’t you know how to write?”
“Shut up! It’s perfectly clear!”
They bickered for a moment until they pulled out their phones to check the GPS and realized they were at the cross streets they had been looking for.
“Oh, damn! I guess it’s just down this street.”
The blonde-haired boy sighed in annoyance.
“You’re the local, Sheng. You’re supposed to know where everything is.”
“My hood’s Chinatown. Why the fuck would I come all the way out here? There ain’t shit but expensive restaurants and pigeon crap.”
It was true. All of Sheng’s family and friends were in Chinatown, where most of the Chinese residents of New York called home. Yet, Altan found it odd that he rarely ever ventured outside of his own neighborhood. Just being in the city for a few days was making him anxious to explore all the hidden gems the concrete jungle had to offer. City dwellers were such strange creatures.
In fact, certain parts of New York had given him a strange feeling when he and Sheng had passed through. For instance, the public library on 5th avenue near Central Park. And the Museum of Natural History a couple blocks down from where they were currently. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about those two landmarks called out to him. And he couldn’t figure out why.
It really didn’t make sense. He was a country boy from a rural town in the Midwest and had no ties to the big apple whatsoever. But in a way, it felt as if he were coming home after a long journey. It was comforting, yet unsettling. He didn’t dare voice his feelings to Sheng for fear of being mocked.
Finally, they reached their destination. “Dawn Studios”. The work place of the world-famous photographer that was Eiji Okumura. Altan had been the lucky student chosen out of thousands to work beside him as his apprentice. He wasn’t sure why he had been blessed with such good fortune; he considered his work quite amateur compared to others who had applied. To be fair, it was damn near close to a miracle. As if the hands of fate themselves had tied the string of opportunity around his finger and pulled him towards his future.
He pondered the path that had brought him here, but his period of deep thought was quickly interrupted by Sheng’s impatience.
“Uh, earth to Altan? Are you just gonna stand there gaping?”
Altan snapped back to reality. He was right; this was it. His best chance at living the life he’d always dreamed of.
He swallowed his apprehension and knocked on the door.