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It occurred to him that some things were unpredictable.
He knew the mechanism was off sometimes, the fluctuations in the glass tubes missing a shift in magnetic pressure, or even a morning shower, but a full-on raging storm like this? That almost felt like a direct insult to his research. There must’ve been something completely off with the tuning.
Beside him, Shui stifled a sneeze. The other cat had said he found the whole storm experience thrilling, but Leaks felt him grow more and more restless ever since they’ve taken their refuge, huddling together, exchanging few words, letting the whisper of droplets hitting the leaves engulf them.
A branch swayed right above Leaks, large drops gathering on the edges. He watched them grow bigger, lazy, reluctant to fall. He wondered if he should apologise to Shui. This wasn’t how he wanted this day to be. A while further down there was a derivation from the main path, so subtle even he’s only discovered it recently. A bit further on, and they would’ve come to a grand body of water – he wasn’t sure if it was a lake or a river lazy in its flow. He’s not yet had a chance to investigate it, but he felt no malevolence lurking below the surface. Leaks remembered the trees leaning into the water, their branches forming a sturdy nest right above the surface; and the image that came to mind at the first sight of the scenery – Shui, leaning down from the canopy until his hair almost dipped into his reflection below, a soft wordless melody streaming from him. What was with thinking such absurdities? Imagining something like that was no more than childish.
Regardless, he specifically picked a day to stall his research and invited the Poet for a bit of outdoor investigating. The storm wasn’t only unpredictable, it also got in the way of the first plan he’s made involving someone other than himself. The first few drops that had Shui perk up in a delight almost childlike in nature had quickly developed into a persistent shower that soaked his cloak right through, and then there was nothing but a wall of water, and Shui’s laughter cutting through thunder. Luckily there was a plausible shelter nearby, a trunk of an enormous tree having crashed down, tearing through the undergrowth and dragging it along with it, dried at an awkward angle and strangled enough by vines to serve as a feeble parody of a tent. This was where they curled up now, a little sanctuary of calm. It was nice, in a way, but Leaks struggled to analyse the unfamiliar weight of disappointment.
‘Hey.’
A hand brushed his shoulder, gentle. Shui must have sensed the change in his mood – he’s always been so damn attuned to him.
‘Don’t look so down. We’ll go see the lake some other time, you know. A little rain is good sometimes.’
‘You call this ‘a little?’ He scoffed, but there was no disappointment or bitterness in his reply.
‘Well, this summer has been quite dry.’ Shui shrugged. ‘Listen, though. How relieved everything is. The forest is singing.’
He was right, that impulsive poet. In the moments of still between gusts of wind and rolls of thunder, he could hear the forest stirring, leaves unfolding, weary ancient trees stretching their limbs upwards, into the soothing rain. Everything quivered at the rejuvenation the rain brought. Leaks could almost feel it, new flowers sprouting on clearings no Ribikan eye has seen; tiny shoots running up dry, long dead trunks. They breathed in tact with the forest, Shui and him.
By the time the rain finally receded, the Moon of Day was long tangled in the canopies above. Shui crept out of the shelter as soon as the pitter-patter faded, all curiosity and eagerness, and was rewarded with an icy cold shower as the branches above shook at the sudden disturbance. Leaks considered reciting a formula for a drying spell of some sort, but gave up – the walk through the woods was guaranteed to leave them drenched all over again.
‘Good thing we didn’t stray off the path too much!’ Shui scrambled on ahead, leaving splashes of mud in his wake.
‘It’s not a matter of direction.’ Leaks picked up his pace to proceed in front of his companion. ‘Even I have no control over what lurks here after dark. Make sure to stay close.’
Out of precaution, he moved his hand closer to the hilt of his blade, but all around them radiated stillness and peace. Ever so often, Shui would stop and examine a barely illuminated flower that caught his eye, a footprint or a marking on a trunk. Leaks watched the shadows around them grow longer as they walked, until there was little but darkness shrouding them, fluid and lazy.
Finally, a faint light emerged from the setting dusk, followed by the outline of a pitched roof. As they drew closer, Leaks outstretched his hand, imagining a pulse of energy streaming from his fingers. Another sliver of light rose in response, stronger this time – that would be the lanterns flickering on, swaying as if in greeting. As soon as he led his companion into the ring of their light, the dampness and cold of the night air were gone, replaced by a welcoming warmth. Out of the corner of his eye, Leaks saw Shui’s amazed smile, illuminated by the glow.
‘That’s brilliant! Like you hung an invisible cover around the house!’ He proceeded to move his hand in and out of the light, excited by the shift in effects. Leaks let out an undecipherable sound - did the Sanga think he’d just wander off with his dwelling unattended? The barrier was an invention he took pride in.
‘Well, uh.’ Once his excitement died down a little, Shui seemed quite hesitant. ‘Do you mind if I stay by the lights for a while until my cloak dries off?’
When Leaks turned to face him properly he was met with a string of speech – the other must have taken his delayed response as disapproval.
‘Well, um, it’s gotten quite cold, and I know everything’s still wet anyway but the village is a long way from here and I won’t stay long at all and it’s better than walking around in the wet wouldn’t you say?’
Oh. That’s what he was implying.
‘Surely you’re not suggesting you walk all the way back, in this weather, in the middle of the night, through a part of the forest you can barely navigate yourself in with the Moon of Day to guide you?’
‘Hey, that only happened once! And that was on the third time I visited, there’s no way I’d get lost now. And really, I’ll be fine – the forest will guide me, you know how - ‘
‘Shui’. Gingerly, he placed his hands on the other cat’s shoulders. ‘You’re not going’.
‘You’re concerned for me.’ The other breathed. In the feeble radiance, Shui’s expression seemed foreign – mysterious shadows hiding his features, his eyes developing a glow almost ethereal in itself.
‘I… I really appreciate that. But the same time, I don’t want to be a nuisance to you, Leaks.’
‘I never said you were a nuisance.’ Stubborn, yes, full of qualities and traits Leaks found absurd at times – but his presence brought a strange comfort with it, the nature of which the scientist could never quite grasp.
‘Come, let’s go inside. You’re staying.’ Leaks turned on his heels and instead focused on the carved panel of the door. At his touch, it swung open, and the familiar scent of ancient parchment and incense washed over him. The first thing he did was acquire something to dry himself off, lest moisture affect his sanctuary. Behind him, Shui stood at the entrance, studying the living room so intently it was almost like he hasn’t witnessed the content of Leaks’s shelves and cabinets on a weekly basis at the least.
‘Your wife will worry.’ Leaks remarked, not a rebuttal, just an observation.
‘I think she’ll be fine. She knows I’m with you, after all.’
Well, if that’s how it was.
‘She’d probably stress more if she found out I’ve walked back through the entire forest in the middle of the night, anyway.’ Shui gave him a shy smile, all fondness. ‘She always goes on about how I’m too reckless…’
‘Well it’s not like she’s entirely wrong. You’re going to catch a cold from just standing in the doorway like that, you know’ Leaks allowed himself a tiny smile as he turned away, digging through a nearby drawer. Out emerged a sheet of rough, unembroidered cloth – a spare he kept just in case.
‘Here, take this, you’re dripping everywhere.’
‘Thank you.’
Shui finally stepped inside, door swinging shut behind him. He accepted the cloth, twisting and turning it between his fingers, as if unsure what to do with it. In the end, he settled for peeling off his hood and scarf and attending to his hair. Leaks thought the procedure resembled strategic dishevelling as opposed to drying.
‘You’re just making a mess...’, he muttered under his breath. ‘Here, let me do it.’
‘What are you…Ow, careful!’ the Poet protested to his unceremonious scrubbing, but there was laughter in his voice. ‘Leaks, you’ve made it all tangled!’
‘Good. Maybe sorting it out will keep you occupied and quiet for a little while.’
‘Do you have a comb of some kind?’ Shui asked – and his hand flew up to his face to hide another sneeze. He better not actually be getting sick as result of their ventures. He didn’t want to admit he particularly cared, but it would undoubtedly bother him, was something to happen to the other cat while he was technically responsible for him.
‘Leave it to dry for now, we can get to that later.’ He motioned for his guest to sit, nodding towards a cushioned seat – his favourite to curl up on while he sorted through ancient scrolls and manuscripts – and disappeared in the makeshift lab/kitchen.
‘Do you mind if I have a look at the book you have out on the table?’ Shui’s voice followed him as he searched through labelled sachets of herbs and powders. He briefly recalled what he was reading the night before, reluctant to let Shui go through anything powerful or dangerous of sorts. He wouldn’t have left any of that lying around though, so in the end he figured there was no harm in it.
‘Just be careful with the binding!’ ‘
When he emerged from the lab with two steaming mugs, Shui was completely engrossed in his reading, not even looking up as he came up to glance over his shoulder.
‘Ah, this one. It’s very ancient – one of the treasures left from Two Canes.’
‘That old?’ Shui hummed, eyes still glued to the page. He was studying what would have once been a colourful image taking up the centrefold. ‘No wonder I can’t understand any of the captions. Do you know what this illustration is? It kind of looks like a night sky with runes drawn all over it…’
‘You’re not far from truth.’ Leaks nodded. ‘Two Cane studied the stars, you see. They looked up to them and longed to understand them, to transform them into something tangible. They made legends about different gods rising up to the skies, of great beasts nestling up there.’
‘That sounds interesting – and not all that different from what Ribika do.’ Shui finally looked up, a strand of still-wet hair stuck to his forehead. ‘These tales – do you happen to know any, Leaks?’
‘I’ve managed to decode a few.’
‘Could you tell me some?’
‘If you really want me to.’ Leaks sighed. This was a trait of Shui’s he didn’t understand, the desire to soak up knowledge he held no purpose or passion for. Still, through their established proximity, he’s learnt to comply. ‘Take this first though, and stand still, something needs to be done with that ridiculous hair of yours.’
‘What it is?’
‘Just a herbal tincture. Warms you up, has calming properties, and so on.’
He recounted a few legends from memory as he divided Shui’s hair into even parts, just as he always did for himself. The one about the Two-Cane woman with a head of serpents and the hero that had slain her, and the goddess that made everything around her bloom; a thunderous bull and a lake-dweller with nine deadly heads. By the time he tied a ribbon at the end of the plat, he was halfway through the tale of an ancient musician of the Two Cane, whose singing could charm wild beasts and make the dead rise again.
‘Aw, don’t stop now, I wish to hear the rest. How he ended up in the sky.’ Shui perked up. ‘In fact, won’t you let me do the same with your hair while you tell it?’
‘Now, there’s no need for such non-‘ he protested, but Shui was already up, a whirlwind of motion, comb in his hand, and in the next moment Leaks found himself tensing up in the seat, the poet tentatively stroking the end of his disordered plait.
‘Make sure not to leave too many knots, otherwise you’re not touching my hair again.’ He grumbled, but it didn’t take long for him to relax, leaning back into the nimble fingers unravelling the strands, then moving up to massage at the base of his neck. There was a foreign sensation at the curve of his ear that brought a jolt of pleasant he didn’t know how to explain – it took a while to register that Shui was scratching him, coaxing him into accepting the warmth and comfort of his touch. Embarrassed, Leaks lowered his ears, and the hand retreated to work on the base of a new plait. The warmth remained.
By the time Shui was done, he wouldn’t stifle his yawns any longer, his handiwork getting sloppier and sloppier with every turn. Rubbing his eyes, he stepped back to admire his masterpiece.
‘It’s not as smooth as when you do it, but it looks nice.’ The Poet gave him a sleepy smile. ‘Don’t look at the tip though, I may or may have not stuffed up a few times…’
‘And no wonder.’ Leaks glanced at the little set of dials mounted into the wall. ‘The Moon of Night will be halfway through its journey soon. Don’t you think it’s time for rest?’
‘Do you think we could go outside for a while? To see if the stars we see are similar to the ones Two-Canes wrote of?’
‘Only if you’re willing to be drenched again.’ Trust the ginger cat to go off seeking adventures at this hour. ‘This is where we retire for the night.’
He’s played around with the idea of Shui being permitted in his sleeping quarters in his mind, and concluded it didn’t really bother him. It already felt like no part of his space evaded Shui’s disturbance as it was, plus Leaks had nowhere else to put his companion, really. As for himself, a night of sleep curled up in the chair was hardly a novelty – his research oft kept him up at obscure hours. Shui, however, had other ideas.
‘I come to your house uninvited, I take up all of your day and half of your night, I waste your medicines and demand recital, and then I claim your own bed over you? You know I can’t accept that.’
‘What else do you suggest?’ Leaks questioned, suspicious.
‘You’re staying with me.’
As far as his solitary experience went, the very idea of having someone share his sleeping quarters – let alone a bed – was bizarre at the very least. It promised to be an awkward experience – and surely you couldn’t be comfortable with someone else in your space like that, living and breathing and tossing around – but Shui persisted, and that’s how he ended up settling on top of the covers, cautious, while Shui buried himself in the heap of sheets beside him. Having this interference to his usual sleeping habits all cocooned up would prevent inconveniences like limbs and tails flailing out or tangling – Leaks felt more at ease this way. It was unfamiliar once he extinguished the light, but not much different from having Shui beside him in the day. The weight across the dark from him felt alien, foreign, but it still carried an atmosphere of contentment, something that was so very Shui, something that billowed and curled up in every pitch black corner.
‘Hey, how come that Two-Canes musician – come to think of it, he was a bit like a Sanga, wasn’t he? Why wasn’t he put in the skies as a constellation? Why just his instrument?’ His companion’s voice dissolved in the velvety dark.
‘Orpheus?’ Leaks mouthed the ancient name, but the very end of the legend evaded his mind. ‘I don’t quite recall. Sleep now.’
‘Maybe we could look for it tomorrow, in one of your books. Goodnight, Leaks.’
Shui stayed silent for a while, the shadow of his form motionless, so he imagined he’d dozed off, but after a while he piped up again.
‘Leaks?’
He gave a hum in response.
‘Thank you for today, you know. For taking me on a walk and watching the rain with me and letting me braid your hair and reciting me ancient words.’
‘What are you on about?’
‘For letting me in…Thank you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The alchemist frowned, shifting uncomfortably. ‘Why would you thank me for something like that? I should be apologising for wasting your day and keeping you here when you should be comfortable in your ho-’
‘Leaks.’ He couldn’t make out a thing in the dark, but it felt like Shui was smiling. And then there was a rustle, and something unbelievably soft pressing against his temple, the ghost of Shui’s breath – and again, a bit higher, to the side of his head and the base of ear. Something not quite unlike a descriptions of a kiss he’s come across a few times.
‘W-what was that for?’
That’s all he can stutter, one last brush of another’s lips fleeting on the back of his head before Shui retreats.
‘For being a precious friend to me.’ - was the only reply he got. ‘Sleep well now, Leaks.’
Shui fell asleep soon after – he could tell by the way the other’s breathing evened, a soothing melody by itself. Leaks himself lay awake for a long time, getting used to the way it synchronised with creaks in the walls and the sounds of the forest enveloping them; his mind wandering.
Trying and failing to understand the way affection flowed from everything Shui said or did, he then thought of the serenity of the night sky, of the universe shining down on them from within. The image brought something else to mind - there’s a stone he’s kept from a failed experiment, a crystallised formation that carried little to no scientific merit. He supposed it was what one could have called ‘pretty’, though, milky veins running through a deep blue, almost black – it looked like it was its own source of light, pulsing from within. Shui would say something like that, anyway. A little night sky in itself, he could mount in on a strip of metal, it shouldn’t be that hard – or a fine chain even. He’s never seen Shui’s wife in his life, didn’t even know what she looked like, but from the other’s descriptions, he felt the crystal would suit her. He could make the gift tomorrow, if the weather would insist on being miserable. Perhaps he would have Shui’s song flow through him, the other’s love winding into the craft as he worked, if the Sanga would be stubborn enough to insist on staying in the morning. Or, if the storm had passed, they could go to the lake again. Leaks caught himself on showing less and less reluctance where spending time with Shui was concerned. It was strange, but he chose not to dwell on it.
Some things were unexpected, a whirlpool of sunlight that sweeps through your existence, unquantifiable, resisting analysis and reason. That didn’t mean such things weren’t desirable. Weren’t precious. The Moon of Day will rise soon, shrouding the forest in dew, and Shui would be there beside him. Somehow, he felt content with that.