Post by Akihiro Yamada on Sept 14, 2016 13:38:58 GMT -5
The rain bounded off of the rickety roof, the occasional droplet trickling in through a tear in the worn ceiling. The old barn had been kissed with age even before the world had ended, and now, the harsh conditions had left the exterior weathered. Mold had had long since eaten away at the wood, and it left little bruises that moistened in the storm. The windows were mostly intact, though they had been boarded long ago. There was only one set of doors to the building, and the entrance had been boarded with a broken plank and chained with rusted, but strong links. No one was coming in and no one was going out. Aki had made sure of that before the trio had laid down to rest.
The barn still stank of animals, of horses, even though they were gone now. Dirt and dust peppered the old hay that littered the ground, and though it was a far cry from the comfortable beds and secure houses that they had grown accustomed to in Waltonville, the demure setting held a different kind of safety and comfort that blanketed them better than any guard wall or army ever could.
Aki drifted in and out of sleep for what felt like hours, nurtured by the rhythmic lullaby of rain against the roof, and coupled by the measured breathing of his sleeping comrades. Aki and Zac had been more than exhausted when they had arrived and secured this meager barn, so when Nadia had volunteered for first watch, the men had entrusted her with that duty. But now, hearing their breathing, he knew that they had all fallen asleep. It alerted warning bells in his mind, but they didn't overpower the small voice that cut through the night and settled upon his ears.
"Aki."
The voice was familiar, soft and gentle, the Japanese unmistakable. Aki took in a small, slow breath and opened his eyes. And there she was, standing over him as she often did. She looked down at him with brown eyes, wide despite their shape and full of concern, her brows knitted over them. Her hair, long and black, was braided to the side and seemed to frame her slight form as she leaned over him. She had one hand on her chest, pale, while the other held the end of her flowing skirt closed as she peered at him. The emblem of modesty. Of nurturing. Of all that was peaceful in the world.
Michiko.
Aki shifted and looked away, his eyes tracing the foliage that had begun to grow between cracks in the wall. He could still see her in his peripheral vision, could still feel her gaze upon his face, burning worse than any fire ever could. He stayed silent for a long while, until she tried again with a more prodding tone. "Akihiro. I know that you can hear me. Please look at me."
And just like that, Aki shifted and gazed up at her, as if his eyes were attached to her pretty face with invisible wire. Zac and Nadia slept on either side of him, unaware of her presence, and Aki slowly sat up to face her. He kept his legs bent before him, his forearms resting on his knees. He cocked his head at her, and though his face was stoic, his eyes betrayed hints of something else. In the woman's gentle gaze, there was something alight within her worried stare. "What, Michiko? What?"
Michiko took a small breath and then was silent. She was measuring her words. But then again, she was always measuring her words with him. It was no secret that Aki could be a loose cannon when it came to her and her emotional advances, her fervent pleadings. They were two different beasts, the pair of them, but in the end, Michiko had always known how to tame him. She got down on her knees and rested her hands in her lap, folded. She cocked her head slowly, and she looked down once to gain confidence before she spoke to him again. "Are you having trouble sleeping? You can hear them. I know you can."
Aki shook his head and looked away. "I did what I had to do. You know that."
Michiko's gaze traced fire along Aki's jaw, and he kept his stare against the far wall. "You let those people die, Akihiro. You let them burn. I saw you."
Aki stared at the dark wall, but in his mind, he remembered. He remembered the aftermath of the invasion on Waltonville. He remembered the destroyed wall, of the walkers swarming the town. He remembered the fire, swallowing everything in its path, the flames licking up feebly at the night sky. He remembered the people, how their screams chorused through the vacant streets. He remembered the army trying to fight off the horde, but falling like flies against sticky paper. He remembered Zac already being on the way to an armored truck, remembered how he ushered Nadia along with them. He remembered piling into the vehicle, having no time to pack any supplies other than the ones on their person, and peeling out of Waltonville just before the fall. He remembered the image of the townsfolk, frantic and defenseless, chasing after the truck in a frenzy until they became nothing more than mere dots on the horizon of the rear view mirror. He remembered it all, as clear as the rain that now fell from the sky and washed it all away.
But Aki didn't feel guilt. Aki didn't feel much of anything, despite the embers of emotion that Michiko was fanning within him.
"I did what I had to do, Michiko. I won't say it again." He was getting defensive now, his jaw set, and Michiko knew it. She let out a small sigh and shifted to sit on the side of her legs, and she propped herself up with a hand in the hay. The other she rested on her calf as she leaned and tried to catch his eyes.
"You let those people die, Akihiro. And for what? To save yourself?"
"To save my people," Aki said. "My people. The ones who are going to help me. Who stand by me. I can't save everyone, Michiko. It doesn't work like that. Don't be an idiot."
The command fell on Michiko's ears harsher than any other statement could. Michiko was a typical Japanese woman, and her culture had always made her faithful to Aki and his desires, receptive to his anger and aggression. She softened her tone and tried something else, something she knew would cut him to his core. "And where is Haruka?"
The overwhelming guilt that washed over him at the mere mention of her name made Aki jump to his knees, and he grabbed Michiko by the arms. He gripped her arms and stared into her eyes, a fury now burning within his own. "Don't you dare speak her name. You don't have the right."
"Why? Why don't I?" Michiko stiffened at his rough touch, though she didn't appear afraid. "I gave birth to her. Don't I have a say in her safety?"
"When you do what I do," Aki started with measured words, "when you travel over the entire eastern United States looking for her, alone, then you can tell me about her safety. When you kill anyone who comes into your path that could hinder your search for her, then you can tell me about her safety. When you join the ranks of some narcissistic dictator and run his town for him, doing whatever he sees fit just so you can make rations out of his resources, then you can tell me about her safety. Until it's your feet that are hitting this dirt in search of her, keep your mouth shut and don't you dare talk to me about safety."
Michiko stared at him in silence. In her eyes, there was no sadness, no anger. There was understanding, deep and fair. She nodded and looked down, staring into her lap. Aki realized the depth of his anger, and as it started to subside, he released Michiko from his grip and scooted back away from her. She always had a way of getting under his skin, even when she wasn't trying. He laid down and shut his eyes, though images of a bloody hallway, of his baby girl crying from within a locked closet, filled his mind and he opened them once more. He rested on his back and put his hands on his chest, and his heartbeat was racing angrily against his palms. Michiko crawled over to him, her movements slow, and she came to lay with her head on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, and for the moment, he didn't touch her.
"I know you're trying," she whispered. "I know that you tried with me, too. You're a good man, Akihiro. I know that you are. I've always known."
Aki let her admission linger in the air between them, and finally, he came to wrap an arm around her and hold her close. He could smell her hair, like roses dipped in honey, and the scent of it was intoxicating. "I will find her, Michiko. I swear on my life I will. I won't stop searching until I'm gone from this world."
"I know you will. I trust you." Michiko shifted and smiled up at him. "Just try not to hurt your heart too much on the way, okay?"
"This heart? It's made of steel. You know that." Aki smirked slightly at the sight of her face, pretty and smiling. Her eyes twinkled in adoration, and slowly, the twinkling got brighter and brighter, moving in flashes before his eyes. The sound of rain echoed in and out of his ears, and it slowly got overtaken by the sound of his name being called, being repeated. The flashing of her eyes, of her smiling, came to spread and blanket him, just behind his eyes. She was everywhere at once, one moment on his chest, the next standing over him. The images flashed and flurried around him until it finally fused into one, and there she was, leaning over him as she was before and calling his name.
"Aki. Aki. Aki." Her mouth moved in slow movements, and her voice became contorted and dipped, as if fused with another voice box. "Aki? Aki?"
He felt as if he was sinking into the floor, ready to get washed away at sea. As he watched her, heard her, he felt distorted and uneasy. Slowly, he came to the surface, and as his eyes fluttered, Michiko turned and changed, both in her voice and in her appearance. Her sharp, pretty features rounded out and became more supple, and her dark hair brightened to a rich blond. Her voice became unfamiliar, and then familiar again, and as his vision changed and cleared, he realized that it wasn't Michiko standing before him at all.
It was Nadia.
Aki blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and the unease that he felt spread against his chest and then evaporated as he realized that he had been dreaming. He let his eyes trail around the barn, and saw that Zac was still asleep at his side, though he was beginning to stir. Aki sat up and rested a hand on his knee, his back littered with little strands of hay here and there. He looked up at Nadia, and in his eyes, there was a hint of something secret, something hidden. He had seen things, things that she would never understand, and as he stared up at her, he placed his other hand in the space between himself and Zac.
"I'm up. What is it?" Aki could only assume that she had seen something, or perhaps she was just eager to scavenge supplies and get on the road. Aki knew that they had a lot of work ahead of them, but he also knew that now, they were free to search for his daughter without the overhang of a dictator. Perhaps things were looking up for them, even if it didn't seem like it right then. Perhaps there was a sun that would shine after the rain clouds dissipated.
The barn still stank of animals, of horses, even though they were gone now. Dirt and dust peppered the old hay that littered the ground, and though it was a far cry from the comfortable beds and secure houses that they had grown accustomed to in Waltonville, the demure setting held a different kind of safety and comfort that blanketed them better than any guard wall or army ever could.
Aki drifted in and out of sleep for what felt like hours, nurtured by the rhythmic lullaby of rain against the roof, and coupled by the measured breathing of his sleeping comrades. Aki and Zac had been more than exhausted when they had arrived and secured this meager barn, so when Nadia had volunteered for first watch, the men had entrusted her with that duty. But now, hearing their breathing, he knew that they had all fallen asleep. It alerted warning bells in his mind, but they didn't overpower the small voice that cut through the night and settled upon his ears.
"Aki."
The voice was familiar, soft and gentle, the Japanese unmistakable. Aki took in a small, slow breath and opened his eyes. And there she was, standing over him as she often did. She looked down at him with brown eyes, wide despite their shape and full of concern, her brows knitted over them. Her hair, long and black, was braided to the side and seemed to frame her slight form as she leaned over him. She had one hand on her chest, pale, while the other held the end of her flowing skirt closed as she peered at him. The emblem of modesty. Of nurturing. Of all that was peaceful in the world.
Michiko.
Aki shifted and looked away, his eyes tracing the foliage that had begun to grow between cracks in the wall. He could still see her in his peripheral vision, could still feel her gaze upon his face, burning worse than any fire ever could. He stayed silent for a long while, until she tried again with a more prodding tone. "Akihiro. I know that you can hear me. Please look at me."
And just like that, Aki shifted and gazed up at her, as if his eyes were attached to her pretty face with invisible wire. Zac and Nadia slept on either side of him, unaware of her presence, and Aki slowly sat up to face her. He kept his legs bent before him, his forearms resting on his knees. He cocked his head at her, and though his face was stoic, his eyes betrayed hints of something else. In the woman's gentle gaze, there was something alight within her worried stare. "What, Michiko? What?"
Michiko took a small breath and then was silent. She was measuring her words. But then again, she was always measuring her words with him. It was no secret that Aki could be a loose cannon when it came to her and her emotional advances, her fervent pleadings. They were two different beasts, the pair of them, but in the end, Michiko had always known how to tame him. She got down on her knees and rested her hands in her lap, folded. She cocked her head slowly, and she looked down once to gain confidence before she spoke to him again. "Are you having trouble sleeping? You can hear them. I know you can."
Aki shook his head and looked away. "I did what I had to do. You know that."
Michiko's gaze traced fire along Aki's jaw, and he kept his stare against the far wall. "You let those people die, Akihiro. You let them burn. I saw you."
Aki stared at the dark wall, but in his mind, he remembered. He remembered the aftermath of the invasion on Waltonville. He remembered the destroyed wall, of the walkers swarming the town. He remembered the fire, swallowing everything in its path, the flames licking up feebly at the night sky. He remembered the people, how their screams chorused through the vacant streets. He remembered the army trying to fight off the horde, but falling like flies against sticky paper. He remembered Zac already being on the way to an armored truck, remembered how he ushered Nadia along with them. He remembered piling into the vehicle, having no time to pack any supplies other than the ones on their person, and peeling out of Waltonville just before the fall. He remembered the image of the townsfolk, frantic and defenseless, chasing after the truck in a frenzy until they became nothing more than mere dots on the horizon of the rear view mirror. He remembered it all, as clear as the rain that now fell from the sky and washed it all away.
But Aki didn't feel guilt. Aki didn't feel much of anything, despite the embers of emotion that Michiko was fanning within him.
"I did what I had to do, Michiko. I won't say it again." He was getting defensive now, his jaw set, and Michiko knew it. She let out a small sigh and shifted to sit on the side of her legs, and she propped herself up with a hand in the hay. The other she rested on her calf as she leaned and tried to catch his eyes.
"You let those people die, Akihiro. And for what? To save yourself?"
"To save my people," Aki said. "My people. The ones who are going to help me. Who stand by me. I can't save everyone, Michiko. It doesn't work like that. Don't be an idiot."
The command fell on Michiko's ears harsher than any other statement could. Michiko was a typical Japanese woman, and her culture had always made her faithful to Aki and his desires, receptive to his anger and aggression. She softened her tone and tried something else, something she knew would cut him to his core. "And where is Haruka?"
The overwhelming guilt that washed over him at the mere mention of her name made Aki jump to his knees, and he grabbed Michiko by the arms. He gripped her arms and stared into her eyes, a fury now burning within his own. "Don't you dare speak her name. You don't have the right."
"Why? Why don't I?" Michiko stiffened at his rough touch, though she didn't appear afraid. "I gave birth to her. Don't I have a say in her safety?"
"When you do what I do," Aki started with measured words, "when you travel over the entire eastern United States looking for her, alone, then you can tell me about her safety. When you kill anyone who comes into your path that could hinder your search for her, then you can tell me about her safety. When you join the ranks of some narcissistic dictator and run his town for him, doing whatever he sees fit just so you can make rations out of his resources, then you can tell me about her safety. Until it's your feet that are hitting this dirt in search of her, keep your mouth shut and don't you dare talk to me about safety."
Michiko stared at him in silence. In her eyes, there was no sadness, no anger. There was understanding, deep and fair. She nodded and looked down, staring into her lap. Aki realized the depth of his anger, and as it started to subside, he released Michiko from his grip and scooted back away from her. She always had a way of getting under his skin, even when she wasn't trying. He laid down and shut his eyes, though images of a bloody hallway, of his baby girl crying from within a locked closet, filled his mind and he opened them once more. He rested on his back and put his hands on his chest, and his heartbeat was racing angrily against his palms. Michiko crawled over to him, her movements slow, and she came to lay with her head on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, and for the moment, he didn't touch her.
"I know you're trying," she whispered. "I know that you tried with me, too. You're a good man, Akihiro. I know that you are. I've always known."
Aki let her admission linger in the air between them, and finally, he came to wrap an arm around her and hold her close. He could smell her hair, like roses dipped in honey, and the scent of it was intoxicating. "I will find her, Michiko. I swear on my life I will. I won't stop searching until I'm gone from this world."
"I know you will. I trust you." Michiko shifted and smiled up at him. "Just try not to hurt your heart too much on the way, okay?"
"This heart? It's made of steel. You know that." Aki smirked slightly at the sight of her face, pretty and smiling. Her eyes twinkled in adoration, and slowly, the twinkling got brighter and brighter, moving in flashes before his eyes. The sound of rain echoed in and out of his ears, and it slowly got overtaken by the sound of his name being called, being repeated. The flashing of her eyes, of her smiling, came to spread and blanket him, just behind his eyes. She was everywhere at once, one moment on his chest, the next standing over him. The images flashed and flurried around him until it finally fused into one, and there she was, leaning over him as she was before and calling his name.
"Aki. Aki. Aki." Her mouth moved in slow movements, and her voice became contorted and dipped, as if fused with another voice box. "Aki? Aki?"
He felt as if he was sinking into the floor, ready to get washed away at sea. As he watched her, heard her, he felt distorted and uneasy. Slowly, he came to the surface, and as his eyes fluttered, Michiko turned and changed, both in her voice and in her appearance. Her sharp, pretty features rounded out and became more supple, and her dark hair brightened to a rich blond. Her voice became unfamiliar, and then familiar again, and as his vision changed and cleared, he realized that it wasn't Michiko standing before him at all.
It was Nadia.
Aki blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and the unease that he felt spread against his chest and then evaporated as he realized that he had been dreaming. He let his eyes trail around the barn, and saw that Zac was still asleep at his side, though he was beginning to stir. Aki sat up and rested a hand on his knee, his back littered with little strands of hay here and there. He looked up at Nadia, and in his eyes, there was a hint of something secret, something hidden. He had seen things, things that she would never understand, and as he stared up at her, he placed his other hand in the space between himself and Zac.
"I'm up. What is it?" Aki could only assume that she had seen something, or perhaps she was just eager to scavenge supplies and get on the road. Aki knew that they had a lot of work ahead of them, but he also knew that now, they were free to search for his daughter without the overhang of a dictator. Perhaps things were looking up for them, even if it didn't seem like it right then. Perhaps there was a sun that would shine after the rain clouds dissipated.