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The pleasant sensation of Sinclair’s head hitting a pillow drove the eleventh sinner to sleep almost immediately. If there was anything worse than days of perpetual combat, of which there had been many, it was the days where nothing ever happened. It always dragged on, and made the other sinners quite annoyed as well. Of course it should be seen as a blessing, especially after all of the things that had happened in the House of Spiders…but you can’t blame a boy for not wanting to be left staring out a window and sighing for hours, right?
The sleep that he had been pulled into was blissful, at least for a few moments. After about a minute or two…something felt strange. First of all, Sinclair was…conscious. His thoughts were a jumbled and confused mess, his eyes slowly opening after feeling a strange breeze that shouldn’t have been entering his room. It took a little while for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light, a gorgeous, twinkling night sky overhead.
He was seated in a strange pavilion, a soft pillow underneath him. He knew for sure now that this was a dream…but he wasn’t all too sure why he was ”awake” for it. Not until the sound of soft footsteps drew his attention to the space behind him.
A strange figure, certainly elderly, clothed in a long white gown with a veil covering her face moved to sit across from him. Sinclair didn’t have the guts to speak first…it felt like he was being eyed with such heavy judgement that a single wrong word could lead to him being struck down.
And then, the woman seemed to glitch, like some old video game. Faint lines of distorted air moved around her…and she seemed to shrink in height a little…now wearing a long brown coat, a guitar case on her back. She had long black-and-purple hair, and red eyes that could only remind him of-
“…Ryoshu…?”
The figure let out a sigh, almost scoffing…before planting a hand on Sinclair’s head, giving his hair a little ruffle. There was something about her that was so similar…he almost couldn’t place his finger on it.
”Not quite…you’re one of my mom’s friends, right?”
The revelation that slammed into Sinclair felt almost like a freight train. He opened his mouth and stuttered for a few moments, before finally getting a word out.
”Y-You’re…”
”Araya.”
She shifted again, looking even younger now…like a teenager. She wore a school uniform that reminded him of his childhood in Calw…it stung him a little, something that the girl picked up on with narrowed eyes.
”Sheesh, do I need to TTYL?”
The sharpness of her words brought him back to thinking of what was actually happening in front of him, prompting him to quickly lift his hands to his chest and wave them a little, as if dismissing his own thoughts.
“No! Sorry…uhm…why are you here?”
Araya rolled her eyes, letting out a rather exaggerated sigh…before shifting yet again, now easily quite a bit older than her teenage self, wearing a purple suit.
”You and mom are close. Because of that, I have something I must task you with.”
She paused, her eyes taking on a more solemn expression.
”The thread between me and my mother is thin…she doesn’t remember me…but you two…”
The solemn gaze turned almost resentful for a moment, but the adult Araya collected herself and bit her lip before speaking again.
”…It’s strong. It is because of this that I ask you to take care of her…the last thing anyone needs is loneliness.”
Sinclair could feel the palpable sadness in her words. Before he could question her, she jutted her hand out, her pinky extended out to him. Despite the rather childish gesture, her eyes were dead serious.
”Promise me that you will care for her until I am able to again.”
The hesitation Sinclair displayed was met with the pinky being shoved closer to him, and he quickly entwined his own pinky with hers.
”I-I promise! I’ll do my best.”
Araya judged him against, tightening her grip on his pinky…before pulling him into a tight hug. Sinclair was shocked…but the sound of soft sniffling and his shoulder growing damp with what he could only assume were tears made him hold his tongue and reciprocate.
”Th-An-k y-ou.”
Her voice was garbled, speaking as she shifted…her form became elderly again, then the young adult…then the teen…and then, finally, a small child, clinging tightly to him with her small hands.
“Mommy is lucky to have the bestest of friends like you, big bro.”
The child sniffled, wiping away her tears with a sleeved arm. Sinclair’s eyes widened for a moment upon noticing a faint, almost invisible red thread, woven tightly around Araya’s pinky…connected to his own.
He smiled, and pat Araya on the head.
”She’s lucky to have an amazing daughter like you.”
His affirmation made her sob a little harder, making his outfit rather wet with tears as she tried to use his overcoat like a tissue for her eyes.
”A-Ah…why don’t we look at the stars? Maybe that’ll help?”
Araya pulled back, nodding slowly. Sinclair picked her up, and walked to the edge of the pavilion, his feet touching a cool pool of water over the edge. Araya sat next to him, her right hand tightly holding his left.
Sinclair and Araya watched the stars for what felt like hours, pointing at the prettiest ones. It was peaceful…calm. He almost forgot he was dreaming.
”T-This…is just like that time with mommy…”
Araya mumbled, the child letting out a shaky breath. She turned to face Sinclair, managing a wide smile, despite her red face from crying. She wrapped her arms around his neck…and Sinclair gave her another hug. He really did feel like a big brother…maybe this is how his older sister felt.
Then, his eyes opened, for real.
His arms were clutched around nothing. Sitting up, he yawned…that dream was strangely real. He couldn’t shake the sensation that something really had happened…
…until he opened his right fist, a thick red thread pressed against his palm.