A JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND MILES
Apr. 6th, 2012 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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gumi_reloadedDate: Sunday, February 5
Time: Late Afternoon
Place: New Meiji lower district, the Sunshine Cafe
Characters: Kenshin, Tokio, Saitoh
katananokokoro
The espresso cup shook, clattering against the table as an earthquake rumbled through the ground. The plastic suns affixed to the ceiling swung in the chaos and a child started crying nearby. Kenshin stilled his cup with one hand and absently looked for the source of the crying-- imagining it must be that harried looking older woman three booths down, though the seat was too high for him to tell of there was a child there.
As soon as it started, however, the earthquake stopped. 4.5 maybe. Not bad. His phone buzzed and he flipped it open, light sliding across the magenta surface. Another delivery lined up. That made it ten today, to various parts of the lower district, all due before twelve, maybe one considering everyone would be on their lunch break. It was only nine now. He had plenty of time. He confirmed his availibilty and once the message sent, he was moved back to his contact list.
There were two people on it, work and Shishou.
Kenshin took a sip of espresso, staring Shishou's number. He hadn't contacted him in four years. No point in starting now. He flipped the phone shut and stared outside, watching workers clear shards of glittering glass off a street where a store front window had shattered.
tokio_takagi
As soon as she felt the motion, Tokio held her breath, the cup of green tea that she was holding frozen halfway between the table top and her lips. Without thinking she slammed the drink to the table’s smooth, but sticky surface, sloshing lukewarm tea over her fingers and wrist. Drat. At least she hadn’t worn a long-sleeved blouse today, or she’d be sporting tea-colored cuffs all day at the office. Good thing she wasn’t due in court today, either.
How could she have been more careful with her drink when she didn’t know whether this one would keep escalating or not? The shaking reached its peak, rattling everything in ‘New Meiji’s Best Greasy Spoon’ as Tokio referred to the place, but not sending anything crashing to the floor. This one was a small one . It had to be less than 5.0. And anything under 5.0 was not a big quake, and really nothing to worry about unless it was a very shallow quake and you were in a place that had been built on fill dirt. In that case, there may have been a cracked window, or a glass or two that had jumped to the floor.
As the motion slowed and then came to an abrupt halt, she thought of the last 6.9 that she’d experienced, shuddering at the memory of the intensity of that one, and remembering how the sandy ground below the building she was in caused the sensation of a gentle rocking for minutes after the actual shaking stopped.
Glancing out the window, she noticed with surprise that a window in a building across the street had shattered. Must have been old glass with some hairline cracks in it for that to happen, or maybe the soil across the street under that building was sand, which was always unstable in a quake, especially when it was wet. Soil liquefaction…that though made Tokio shudder.
Lost in her thoughts she was vaguely aware of a crying child. Poor thing. There weren’t too many people in here this morning. The before work breakfast rush was over and it was too early for lunch. Tokio rose in her booth. Where was that waitress. She’d need some extra napkins to mop up the tea that now covered the table in front of her and dripped off her fingers.
katananokokoro
Ah, it seems it wasn't a middle aged woman at all, but a young woman who he had been staring at. Relatively young anyway. 27, 28. Some kind of professional by the looks of her clothes and now a tea stained professional. He watched the tea drip from her fingertips for a moment (like sheathes of skin, seared off by fire).
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them there was tea, not blood, puddled on the floor underneath her booth. He then realized with a guilty start what she must be after.
"Ah, excuse me," he said, sliding out of his own booth and straightening his apron. He was technically off shift but he couldn't look away from a lady in need.
"It seems you've had some trouble. I'm sorry about that." He bowed slightly. "Would you like to clean up?" The Sunshine Cafe didn't have a public restroom and though he technically wasn't allowed to offer but what harm could it do?
tokio_takagi
The spilled tea had reached the edge of the table and now trickled over the side, making a small puddle on the floor. What Tokio wouldn’t have given for a stack of napkins. She could have prevented most of this mess, if only she’d asked for a couple of extras when she placed her order. She usually needed more than one napkin. It wasn’t as though she was that messy, but at eateries things just seem to happen. Like today.
Giving a start, she looked up and around the diner . Someone was staring at her. She could feel it .
A red-haired guy with an apron was sliding out from a nearby booth. Hm. He looked like an employee, although she’d not seen him there before, and she considered herself a ‘regular’ at this joint. He must be new.
"Would you like to clean up?"
“Oh, thank you, but all I need is a few napkins to wipe my hands and a rag to catch the drips on the table and mop this puddle,” she replied with a friendly smile.
katananokokoro
"Oh never mind cleaning up. That's my job," Kenshin said with a smile. He was glad to know she was a conscientious customer at least. Those were few and far between. However, if she didn't wish to go the back room...
"Please, wait here." Then, quickly, he ducked into the back and got a moist towelette and a soft clean towel for her hands before coming back out and flipping the towel over his wrist until she needed it, while handing out the packet.
"We're getting quite a lot of earthquakes these days, aren't we?" he offered, small talk always helped calmed the nerves. (Though whose were really on edge here?)
"I can't help but be a little shaken up." It was a bad joke but it wasn't as if he knew any good ones. Though there was one about a penguin that Shishou had made him promise never to say again. Whether because it was so bad or so good, Kenshin had never been able to tell.
tokio_takagi
"Oh never mind cleaning up. That's my job..."
So he did work here. The name tag she just noticed pinned to his shirt even confirmed it. Otherwise, there was no way that he'd offer to clean-up for her. Guys just never did that sort of thing...unless they got paid for it. But the way he smiled before he raced way made Tokio want to believe, that employee or not, he still would have helped her.
She was usually the skeptical type, needing more than one piece of evidence before deciding what to believe.
He was back in a flash. "Thank you Ken," she replied as she took the packet he offered and ripped it open with a little twisting motion.
"It certainly does seem like we are getting more than our fair share of them lately." There was no way she could stifle the light laugh that erupted in response to his pun.
"I do believe that even the tea in my cup was shaken this time." It was obvious to Tokio that the red-haired man was making pleasant small talk. No doubt to distract her mind from her klutzy behavior. Honestly, she shouldn't have slammed that cup down on the table, just because of a little earth shaking.
"Have you worked here long?" Well, maybe asking him that was prying, but she was sure that he would recognize it as her her feeble attempt to continue their conversation.
She then wadded up the little moist towlette and stuffed it back in its packet.
katananokokoro
"Aa, long enough," Kenshin said absently, taken aback by the way she said his name. He wondered-- but then remembered. The name tag. Such a strange custom though many businesses of this kind seemed to frequent them. It was so easy to fake a name, to pick any identity out of a hat and no one looked close enough. (Easy enough when you have no official identity to begin with.) He noticed the woman was done with the towelette and took the trash from her, offering the towel in its place with a little bow.
"The earth is restless, she is." A man passing by outside caught his attention for a brief moment. Long enough for Kenshin to note that he was rough in appearance if not person. "Do you come here often?"
Time: Late Afternoon
Place: New Meiji lower district, the Sunshine Cafe
Characters: Kenshin, Tokio, Saitoh
katananokokoroThe espresso cup shook, clattering against the table as an earthquake rumbled through the ground. The plastic suns affixed to the ceiling swung in the chaos and a child started crying nearby. Kenshin stilled his cup with one hand and absently looked for the source of the crying-- imagining it must be that harried looking older woman three booths down, though the seat was too high for him to tell of there was a child there.
As soon as it started, however, the earthquake stopped. 4.5 maybe. Not bad. His phone buzzed and he flipped it open, light sliding across the magenta surface. Another delivery lined up. That made it ten today, to various parts of the lower district, all due before twelve, maybe one considering everyone would be on their lunch break. It was only nine now. He had plenty of time. He confirmed his availibilty and once the message sent, he was moved back to his contact list.
There were two people on it, work and Shishou.
Kenshin took a sip of espresso, staring Shishou's number. He hadn't contacted him in four years. No point in starting now. He flipped the phone shut and stared outside, watching workers clear shards of glittering glass off a street where a store front window had shattered.
tokio_takagiAs soon as she felt the motion, Tokio held her breath, the cup of green tea that she was holding frozen halfway between the table top and her lips. Without thinking she slammed the drink to the table’s smooth, but sticky surface, sloshing lukewarm tea over her fingers and wrist. Drat. At least she hadn’t worn a long-sleeved blouse today, or she’d be sporting tea-colored cuffs all day at the office. Good thing she wasn’t due in court today, either.
How could she have been more careful with her drink when she didn’t know whether this one would keep escalating or not? The shaking reached its peak, rattling everything in ‘New Meiji’s Best Greasy Spoon’ as Tokio referred to the place, but not sending anything crashing to the floor. This one was a small one . It had to be less than 5.0. And anything under 5.0 was not a big quake, and really nothing to worry about unless it was a very shallow quake and you were in a place that had been built on fill dirt. In that case, there may have been a cracked window, or a glass or two that had jumped to the floor.
As the motion slowed and then came to an abrupt halt, she thought of the last 6.9 that she’d experienced, shuddering at the memory of the intensity of that one, and remembering how the sandy ground below the building she was in caused the sensation of a gentle rocking for minutes after the actual shaking stopped.
Glancing out the window, she noticed with surprise that a window in a building across the street had shattered. Must have been old glass with some hairline cracks in it for that to happen, or maybe the soil across the street under that building was sand, which was always unstable in a quake, especially when it was wet. Soil liquefaction…that though made Tokio shudder.
Lost in her thoughts she was vaguely aware of a crying child. Poor thing. There weren’t too many people in here this morning. The before work breakfast rush was over and it was too early for lunch. Tokio rose in her booth. Where was that waitress. She’d need some extra napkins to mop up the tea that now covered the table in front of her and dripped off her fingers.
katananokokoro Ah, it seems it wasn't a middle aged woman at all, but a young woman who he had been staring at. Relatively young anyway. 27, 28. Some kind of professional by the looks of her clothes and now a tea stained professional. He watched the tea drip from her fingertips for a moment (like sheathes of skin, seared off by fire).
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them there was tea, not blood, puddled on the floor underneath her booth. He then realized with a guilty start what she must be after.
"Ah, excuse me," he said, sliding out of his own booth and straightening his apron. He was technically off shift but he couldn't look away from a lady in need.
"It seems you've had some trouble. I'm sorry about that." He bowed slightly. "Would you like to clean up?" The Sunshine Cafe didn't have a public restroom and though he technically wasn't allowed to offer but what harm could it do?
tokio_takagi The spilled tea had reached the edge of the table and now trickled over the side, making a small puddle on the floor. What Tokio wouldn’t have given for a stack of napkins. She could have prevented most of this mess, if only she’d asked for a couple of extras when she placed her order. She usually needed more than one napkin. It wasn’t as though she was that messy, but at eateries things just seem to happen. Like today.
Giving a start, she looked up and around the diner . Someone was staring at her. She could feel it .
A red-haired guy with an apron was sliding out from a nearby booth. Hm. He looked like an employee, although she’d not seen him there before, and she considered herself a ‘regular’ at this joint. He must be new.
"Would you like to clean up?"
“Oh, thank you, but all I need is a few napkins to wipe my hands and a rag to catch the drips on the table and mop this puddle,” she replied with a friendly smile.
katananokokoro"Oh never mind cleaning up. That's my job," Kenshin said with a smile. He was glad to know she was a conscientious customer at least. Those were few and far between. However, if she didn't wish to go the back room...
"Please, wait here." Then, quickly, he ducked into the back and got a moist towelette and a soft clean towel for her hands before coming back out and flipping the towel over his wrist until she needed it, while handing out the packet.
"We're getting quite a lot of earthquakes these days, aren't we?" he offered, small talk always helped calmed the nerves. (Though whose were really on edge here?)
"I can't help but be a little shaken up." It was a bad joke but it wasn't as if he knew any good ones. Though there was one about a penguin that Shishou had made him promise never to say again. Whether because it was so bad or so good, Kenshin had never been able to tell.
tokio_takagi "Oh never mind cleaning up. That's my job..."
So he did work here. The name tag she just noticed pinned to his shirt even confirmed it. Otherwise, there was no way that he'd offer to clean-up for her. Guys just never did that sort of thing...unless they got paid for it. But the way he smiled before he raced way made Tokio want to believe, that employee or not, he still would have helped her.
She was usually the skeptical type, needing more than one piece of evidence before deciding what to believe.
He was back in a flash. "Thank you Ken," she replied as she took the packet he offered and ripped it open with a little twisting motion.
"It certainly does seem like we are getting more than our fair share of them lately." There was no way she could stifle the light laugh that erupted in response to his pun.
"I do believe that even the tea in my cup was shaken this time." It was obvious to Tokio that the red-haired man was making pleasant small talk. No doubt to distract her mind from her klutzy behavior. Honestly, she shouldn't have slammed that cup down on the table, just because of a little earth shaking.
"Have you worked here long?" Well, maybe asking him that was prying, but she was sure that he would recognize it as her her feeble attempt to continue their conversation.
She then wadded up the little moist towlette and stuffed it back in its packet.
katananokokoro
"Aa, long enough," Kenshin said absently, taken aback by the way she said his name. He wondered-- but then remembered. The name tag. Such a strange custom though many businesses of this kind seemed to frequent them. It was so easy to fake a name, to pick any identity out of a hat and no one looked close enough. (Easy enough when you have no official identity to begin with.) He noticed the woman was done with the towelette and took the trash from her, offering the towel in its place with a little bow.
"The earth is restless, she is." A man passing by outside caught his attention for a brief moment. Long enough for Kenshin to note that he was rough in appearance if not person. "Do you come here often?"
no subject
Date: 2012-04-11 03:33 am (UTC)(I know this sound…) Memories, firing faster than bullets ever could, blew through his mind, split second fragments blue, white, steel, crimson, screams. (I know this man) “KEN” was gone, erased by a half-remembered other name, a malediction that was drenched in the blood of many slain men.
These primal, broken apart memories screamed for him to shoot, to kill and utterly destroy the red haired demon masquerading as a man. An abstract, bloodthirsty part of him watched as men fell in halves and fourths beneath a blade, and wanted nothing more than to rise up and engage in like-minded carnage.
Saitoh blinked and nearly staggered to his knees, wondering for a horrible half second if he was going insane again. He’d nearly fallen to madness, barely avoided tumbling into the hellish, lonely abyss that was uncontrollable grief and guilt and anger, when his wife had bled out in his arms. Three years ago, it had been Okita’s determination to keep him from self-destructing and the duty that he owed to his children and the woman who had died to keep them safe that had spared him an inglorious death by alcohol poisoning.
He blinked again when he felt a hand, her hand on his back, steadying him. The bloodlust, the urge to rend and tear and destroy abated, leaving behind an equally ferocious desire to protect. Calmness, stillness, even in the middle of this bloody mess, called to him, comforted him as nothing else…as no one else in this lifetime had.
(I know HER…)
A breath, a sigh, an acknowledgement passed from him to her, and time returned to him, picking up from where it had left, less than three seconds before. Shots were being fired. Returning fire, Saitoh tracked a line of laser light sliding across the floor like a snake, then heard the man (who could not, after this, be “KEN”) cry out in warning.
Pivoting hard, he threw himself down to the floor, covering the newest prosecuting attorney with his body as a glowing energy round blew through the space that his head had been second before. The round shredded through the diner’s plaster wall, into the neighboring store and by the explosion that came a split second after, tore through a gas line.
The diner lights flared, then failed entirely, leaving only firelight and what afternoon sun was able to stream through the broken front and side windows of the building. Engulfed in smoke from the fire, Saitoh moved then, pushing Takagi beneath the relative safety of the counter, praying that the blast would give him a few extra moments. The waiter had been shot, but was still alive. (He won’t be for long…)
Salamander and his remaining thugs were cheering, behaving as morons drunk on their own supposed power were wont to do. Saitoh had seen too many photos, and had watched stone faced as what was left of the bodies of three young women who had been seen last in the company of these cowards were removed from gory crime scenes to suppose that the katana wielding waiter would be spared such a fate.
(I will not permit that to happen) He looked down at the grey eyed woman crouching beside him (to either of them)
“Takagi, give me your hand,” he said quietly as he pulled out his smaller fully automatic sidearm. Turning the gun over, he pressed his thumb onto a small black LED display on the bottom of the butt of the weapon. The LED turned red, blinked once, then twice, then turned green.
By law, any military grade automatic weapon over a certain caliber had to be registered thusly, ensuring that dangerous weapons could only be fired by the individual whose DNA was registered in the software of the weapon. It was a safeguard…and a serious pain in the ass. Covering Takagi’s hand with his own, while the gun silently registered her genetic signature in place of his, he found to his satisfaction that the woman’s hand were calm and steady and that there were callouses, though not as hard as his, on her trigger finger and palm, indicating that while the woman was at least no stranger to shooting.
“There will be police backup here soon,” he removed her hand from hers when the LED was no longer red, indicating that this gun would only fire by her will. “I expect you to stay alive to assist them.” Saitoh ordered as he adjusted the settings in on his body armor, pushing the mag field past the manufacturer limits, causing the armor to crackle menacingly and give off a blue-white glow seen even under his uniform. (I’ve got five minutes before the circuitry melts)
no subject
Date: 2012-04-11 03:35 am (UTC)“You never brought me that pot of coffee, you asshole,” Saitoh muttered as he pivoted out of the way of a velocity round, sweating as the radiant heat of his armor began increasing. Salamander’s aim was worsening, he realized with no small amount of satisfaction. (Ahh, we’re back to being human again…) The dealer of things far worse than drugs, was cowering behind a taller, muscle bound wreck of human being.
Saitoh took two shots, both of which hit the criminal in the chest. A familiar crackle erupted from beneath the man’s coat, and Saitoh immediately adjusted his aim, knowing that body armor wouldn’t do much for a head with an exit wound the size of a dinner plate in it. The man vanished the second the gun went off and then reappeared inches of where Saitoh was standing, wielding a long knife.
He lunged, the knife curving in an impossibly fast arc. Saitoh shifted to the side and caught the man at the juncture of his meaty arm and elbow, then with a roar, using his attacker’s momentum and his years of teaching police officers kempo, twisted up, then down hard, shattering the larger man’s elbow in the process.
A well placed front kick sent the screaming man back, careening into what was left of a dining booth.
Gasping from the now nearly painful heat of his body armour, Saitoh turned to face Salamander. The glow from his armor was bright as the circuitry began to overheat, illuminating the officer in light. Saitoh staggered and fell to his kees, then reached down and clamped a hand over a knife deep cut in his thigh that went all the way to the femur bone. Blood that flowed heavy and hard in horribly perfect time with the beat of his heart ran down his leg, pooling beneath him.
His armor began to smoke and he felt blisters begin to form on his back and chest as he summoned up the strength to stand up shakily and try to get as close as he could to Salamander , intending to take the bastard out right along with him. “That fucking thing’s gonna blow!” The dealer screamed as Saitoh advanced on him, his AMP-less body shaking violently.
And it did, though not in the way Saitoh had hoped. Despite having a broken elbow, Salamander’s thug was able to heft up the military rifle with one hand, and before anyone could stop him, fire a round directly at the cops glowing chest. Saitoh felt heat, and then as the energy round collided with the white hot body armour, he registered that he was airborne and that his uniform was on fire.
His smoking body landed fifteen feet away, careening off the coffee counter, coming to a rest face down next to a broken pot off freshly brewed coffee.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-12 03:43 am (UTC)Crouched down behind him she couldn’t see what was going on. Just as well, as she really didn’t want to see it. But she heard it…all of it…every sickening sound of it. Still, she kept a light contact on his back with one of her hands, as if he were her life line and to lose that contact would mean a certain death. Another idiotic notion, she told herself as she waited, trying to keep her breathing calm and steady, listening intently to the activity she couldn’t see.
A breath, a sigh, an acknowledgement passed between them. Had he felt something, too?
”Saitoh?”
Was Ken now calling the man who was shielding her, Saitoh? On one hand it made sense, but on the other it caused Tokio to feel even more confusion, and her actions…toward Cop-san… were causing her confusion enough. Since when had she been so familiar with a strange man? Since never, and she didn’t need anything else to muddy her mind, like the red-headed Saitoh, who now wasn’t Saitoh, calling this man in front of her by that name.
Cop-san pivoted and before she knew it, her body was protectively covered with his. A glowing force ripped overhead, inches above the officer’s back. An explosion rocked the diner, the lights dimming before they snapped out.
Why did being in *this position* with him feel so familiar? It was the same sure familiarity that had overwhelmed her the first time he had touched her to yank her from beneath the rubble to safety. Tokio was sure that the heart hammering in her chest would surely burst, and not only because of the danger of dying in this fire fight. Most of it had to do with the man, himself, his proximity to her. Closing her eyes briefly she took in a slow, steady breath. A flicker of memory, only an instant long, being embraced by strong arms, imposed itself in her mind before fading away as quickly as it had come.
He pushed her under a counter, still shielding her. Her mind was on overload. This gun battle was bad enough, but the internal turmoil welling up inside her, caused by this man, was almost worse.
The sound of laugher and cheering reached her ears. With disgust she knew that, most likely, only someone on AMP would have that reaction to what was going on in here. Their brutality now made more sense to her. They were high on designer drugs made to give an individual super human strength, a strength that no one should ever possess.
“Takagi, give me your hand,” he said quietly.
Astounded that he knew her name, she glanced at him, right into his amber eyes. Again, she obeyed automatically. Not questioning his intention, not asking him what he was doing. She trusted him, and had no clue why. Placing the small firearm in her palm, he covered her hand with his own, while the gun silently registered her genetic signature in place of his. Now she knew what he expected from her. His hands were warm, strong, and comforting. His touch was again strangely familiar. So she hadn’t imagined this feeling, when he yanked her from under the table.
“There will be police backup here soon…I expect you to stay alive to assist them.”
Tokio felt an instant pang of loss. Maybe it was because he removed his hand from hers. Maybe it was because of what he said. Either way, it was still crazy for her to have these thoughts of familiarity about a complete stranger. ‘But *you* will be here to assist, won’t you?’ she almost let out before realizing in horror what could happen to a flak jacket turned to full power. She wanted to tell him to stop. That he didn’t have to do this, that he shouldn’t do this. But she kept silent; she had no right to make demands of him, especially knowing –somehow- that he would fulfill his duty regardless of the cost.
.
She had never made demands of him before, so she had no reason to do so now. ‘Before when?’ her confused mind asked itself. Shaking off the insane thought, she tightened her grip on the gun in her hand.
In a flash he was gone, firing into the chaos as he went. Peaking around from where she was hiding, she hoped to get some sense of where the targets were located. More blood and body parts…everywhere. She knew she only had the rounds in his weapon. She would make them count, all of them.
Things were happening so fast she could barely keep focused on the action. She saw the blade plunge into the officer’s thigh. His overheating body armor glowed brightly. Tokio gasped as he staggered and fell to his knees, bleeding heavily. Not good. He wouldn’t last long without help.
Then she noticed one of the obviously wounded thugs –one that HE had kempo kicked across the room a only few moments before- heft up a military rifle with one hand. Tokio raised the officer’s gun, held it out from her body, steadying it with both her hands, aiming right for the man’s head. Slowly, deliberately she squeezed the trigger. The round left the chamber with a sharp report, reaching its destination in the middle of the man’s forehead, throwing him backwards, but not before he had fired a round at Cop-san’s glowing chest, sending the officer flying across the room, his uniform on fire.
Tokio jumped to her feet, racing to the downed officer, knowing she had to respond –now. Something in her gut wrenched at that very moment, it was like the monthly cramp from hell. Then she screamed a name, “Hajime,” not knowing where the word came from.
She was by his side. Seeing blood flowing freely from his thigh, she acted immediately, tearing off her blouse so she could use it as a tourniquet . She was wearing a sports bra underneath, and it revealed far less than what most women wore to the beach. She really didn’t care if she were naked underneath. It didn’t matter. The only thing that did matter was taking care of HIM. Once the cloth of her blouse was firmly wrapped around his bloody thigh, and she was satisfied that it would stem the flow of red liquid, she turned her attention to his torso, and his hot, smoldering body armor.
There was almost nothing left of his outer shirt. She tenderly began to remove his steaming flak jacket, ignoring what the heat was doing to her own hands. To get it off completely she needed to roll him on his side. It wasn’t an easy task but somehow she managed. She startled when she encountered bare skin under his burnt body armor, resisting the impulse to skim her finger tips across his back. Fortunately, none of his damaged skin had stuck to his flak jacket, but it was red and close to blistering. Thankfully, none of it was charred. Since she had no clean towels or cold water, there was nothing more she could do now, except pray that police back-up would bring a medic unit along with them.
His face was a mess, too, covered with small lacerations, wet with hot coffee, shards from a broken coffee pot scattered on the floor beside him. Reaching into the front pocket of her slacks, she removed a clean handkerchief and began to gently clean his face, being careful to watch for shards of glass that might be imbedded in his skin.
Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of him, his back, his face. Unspoken words, ‘Oh, Hajime don’t leave me, now that I’ve found you again.’ raced through her mind. It was surreal. She had NO connection to him. She did NOT KNOW HIM. Was she going mad? That was the only answer.