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The Earth turned into a wasteland all those generations ago. Nobody actually remembered anymore the how or the when. One does not have the luxury of indulging memories of green scenery, flowing water or simple things like breathing clean air freely… Few lucky one who could afford to live under one of the domes where the things at least resembled to a normal life but for everybody else, the life was a constant battle for survival, day after day until one day you just lost. To hunger or the toxic air or a knife of another tortured soul only because you had something they wanted (more in their opinion) and they’d not take ‘no’ for an answer.
In a life like this, people simply stopped hoping. Stopped dreaming – both literally and figuratively. Because what wouldn’t help your survival was useless in this world.
Even at a young age Masaki had to realize that something was wrong – different – with him. Because he did what no one else.
When he first told about his nightly visions to the man who took him in, he looked at him as if the boy had gone mad.
“There’re no such things” he grumbled at the orphan boy.
“But I did see it!” little Masaki insisted with wide hazel eyes.
“Stop this nonsense!” the man snapped slapping the boy then pushing him violently toward a near-by, crumbling building. “Make yourself useful instead of blabbing your lies!”
The slap and the withheld dinner that night quickly taught the boy not to ask an adult about dreams ever again. But then he soon had to realize that the other boys of the looter band thought exactly the same as the man they worked for: Masaki must be either crazy or a liar…
But not even the constant laughing, mockery and rejection was able to wipe away Masaki’s faith in the vivid pictures of the night.
The huge oak tree, greater than the crumbling pillars of the ancient monuments, he was forced to loot every day. It’s standing in the middle of the hall, bathing in gentle, silver light pouring from above. The leaves green and rustling in gentle breeze. Roots strong enough to break through the marble floor, spreading all directions… And the slushing, splashing noises of flowing water…
Water was a precious resource even in the domes, let alone outside in the wastelands. Long before Masaki was even born, people has forgotten when it was that the last of the natural waters dried up. Now what little remained must’ve been pumped up from the depth of the Earth, strictly portioned for everyone. Still, Masaki was sure the noise in his dreams was the sound of water flowing freely.
“We’re waiting for you”
Masaki woke up with a start, gasping for air. Eyes wide but seeing nothing of the dusky room he used as his in the looter base. Hours later as the light of the lowering sun painted the room orange before stealing the light completely from the room, Masaki was still sitting motionless and all he could see was those eyes. Kind but sure. Knowing. Knowing him. Calling him. Waiting for him…
“Yo, Masaki! What’s wrong with you?” a sharp voice woke him from his trance. With a shudder he jerked his head to the door. “What? Did you see a ghost this time?” the other man asked, snickering, mocking him.
“No, I…” the young man said mumbling still trying to wrap his head around his dream.
“Don’t care!” the other snapped at him impatient, losing his interest in bullying Masaki already. “Get your lazy ass up, we’re heading out in 5!” and with that, he was gone.
Later Masaki realized this was the day his life changed forever.
‘We’re waiting for you…’
‘We’re waiting for you…’
‘We’re waiting for you…’
Those haunting whispers and those sharp eyes filled his dreams, waking him as if to urge him, lure him, forcing him to…
“Someone… someone must be waiting…” Masaki mumbled unaware of his surroundings, moving through base with open but unseeing eyes.
“Who?”
“Huh?” Masaki stopped abruptly, blinking at the man in front of him who stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“Who would they be? Waiting for you, Prince of Fools…” he said, mocking laughter erupted around the pair and a few others gathering closer to the entertainment.
Looking around Masaki realized that he wandered into the lower levels of the base. It was more cave-like here, therefore way cooler, livable yet usually he avoided it at all cost. For this reason exactly.
“I…” he stuttered looking at the near-by people. He long accepted that he had no allies in this group but he couldn’t help himself looking for support. “I don’t know…” he admitted finally, his cheeks slightly reddening with shame.
“You don’t know?” the main bully asked. “You really must be the Prince of Fools if they still waiting for you” he added in mock awe.
Masaki flinched at the tone, turning around, looking frenetically for someone, anyone who’d take his side.
“We’re always waiting for you. No matter how long…”
It was like a divine enlightenment. As if they were blown away, his scarred feelings disappeared, calmness descending upon him. He always believed his dreams meant something, he was just sure of that. And now for the first time, he heard that whisper so clearly as if the speaker would stand right next to him. He knew hi path was just shone on. The brightest smile broke on his face.
“Yes! Someone is definitely waiting” he said confidently before turning to sprint to the upper levels.
For a second the others stood in stunned silence.
“Look at that, he really had just gone mad!” someone shouted and once again, everyone else burst out laughing.
But Masaki heard nothing of it. As soon as he reaching his bunk, he threw whatever little possessions he had into a bag, grabbing anything he thought to come in handy.
“You can’t go out” the guard at the entrance said when Masaki reached him.
“I have to!” Masaki pressed, trying to move past the guard.
“You got no permission” the guard insisted. “And anyway, it’s suicide going out now!” he added grabbing Masaki’s arm to stop him. “It’s still hours until sundown. You. Can’t. Go. Out!” he said pushing the young man backwards.
“Let go of me! I have to! They’re waiting!” Masaki shouted and with uncharacteristic violence, he yanked his arm free and ran away before the other could make another attempt to hold him back…
He knew no one would date to chase after him while the sun was up and even he also knew that soon he’ll have to look for shelter, for now, he postponed it. Covering his head and face with hood and mask will protect him for only so long, but he just pushed himself and kept on running. The sand burned his hands as he stumbled with every other step, the air felt like fire in his lungs with every breath he took. The surface was only moderately livable at night time. Survival under the blazing sun would be the matter of sheer luck. It was suicide, just as the guard told him so. Every hour will be a gamble…
Still he forced himself to move on. ‘Just a bit more…’ he thought determined, pressing his lips in a thin line behind the mask protecting his face from the burning sun. Pressing himself till he was running every time he found enough will-power in himself to do so. Because he had to reach his goal – no matter how far that was. Because they were waiting for him… But one could not simple walk away from his looter band. The man would not tolerate a deserter. If Masaki wanted to be honest with himself, he admitted they all were just slaves in the eyes of that man and like this… He won’t let him go off that easily, they’ll never stop chasing him until he was brought back. Or he’s dead…
But it wasn’t just the fear of capture that kept him from stopping and hiding. He kept moving until the blazing sun forced him to take shelter, then he was on the road again as soon as the sun started its setting.
‘We’re waiting for you…’
The whisper rang in his ears every day, sounding clearer, louder, closer as days passed on.
“I know…” Masaki mumbled in his slumber. “I’m going…”
He long lost counting his days on the road by the time that monument appeared on the horizon. At first he thought it’s just his imagination. His eyes playing tricks. His water sources ran out days ago. He should’ve taken shelter hours ago but not as much a dried out, scrubby bush was seen anywhere he could see. So he kept on dragging his body on, concentrating only on moving one foot ahead the other. And now…
He tried to hasten his steps as the flickering image in front of him didn’t disappear, hoping for shade and shelter from the burning sunlight. His legs could barely cooperate with his will still he pushed himself to move on.
The entrance, dark yawning void in the shimmering heat and the surrounding white marble walls, and after that, a steep descending slope that must have been stairs once. A soft sigh left Masaki’s parched lift as the cool darkness of the building embraced him. But blinded by the sudden darkness after the blazing sunlight, he stumbled, scraping his palms and knees as he fell and rolled down.
He might have fainted, or maybe not. He wasn’t sure. The darkness around him was so thick it stripped him not just from his sight but his sense of time too. He could only see a distant light square high above his head. It took him a long time to find enough strength to make an attempt on getting up. He patted blindly for the wall for support, not trusting his weakened legs or his dizzy head in the darkness.
“Ah!”
A surprised cry escaped him as his hand touched something cold… wet… flowing down on the walls freely.
“Water…” he breathed in awe as he touched his wet fingers to his parched lips.
Even in the pitch darkness, he immediately knew how the corridor looked like. He saw it already million times in his dreams.
Suddenly as if he found strength he had no idea was left in him, he was scrambling to his feet and started running. Following the sound of flowing, splashing water; the faint rustling sound of leaves. First he only see the soft glowing light in the distance.
‘We’re waiting for you…’
With the last of his strength he stumbled into the hall that looked exactly as in his dreams. Black marble floor, broken by the strong roots of the huge oak tree at the other side of the hall, stretching to the pouring silver light above.
The hall was empty.
He felt all the strength that kept him moving till now, leave his body in an instant, falling to his already bruised knees, his head hung low as tears slipped from behind his closed eyelids. In this moment he felt more dejected than ever in his whole life.
The next moment shiver run down his body as a gentle hand pulled down his hood, caressing his hear softly, urging him to raise his head. Blinking through his tears, he slowly did so. In the distance he saw three figures standing and the one in front of him…
He knew those eyes…
“We’ve been waiting for you, Masaki…”