The Island At The South
Lachrymal Lacewings
“Let go of her! She has nothing to do with you!”
“You think so Minami? Well what would be your stand for our children who died because of your children?! They’re innocent as well. Aren’t they?! But why do they have to die?! Yours and various Mystiques’ children are the cause of… of this havoc! And not… us! so insert that fact to your tiny ignorant brain!”
“No! It is all false! You got it all wrong! Do not be fooled by the psychotic delusion of Fujima…” the sentence was then finished with a bloody slap on her face.
The man dragged the poor Mari up the palace, leaving her poor mother unconscious and ingratitude.
The carpet so velvet welcomes her to a doom so unnerving and distressful; a once serene hall for loving people yet now for frantic bozos in search for a cure that was not even here. The cure who’ll they think be set free in each wail released from a poor child’s larynx.
Her fear is evident enough to recognize such fright. A crying Mari felt uneasiness as the pang of terror shivered her once more. The hand of a stranger she looks up was tight in her senses. No matter how struggle she practiced, nothing came in hand. Still, the man pitilessly drags her to an undefined place they called salvation.
“Halt!” a voice from the hallway shouts of displeasure to the stranger holding Mari in great tight.
“Why, Cordelia-sama? Such pity with this lacewing? Such pest for our organization; pest for your son and to our people.” The stranger addressed to a woman wearing an elegant maroon gown in her early 20s.
“This is injustice! What on earth pushed you to take their inhuman orders? God never favored such acts! Release her at once.”
“I am afraid I cannot Cordelia-sama. You are only the secretary of this organization and in accord with the Mystique’s orders, I shall only follow Fujimara-dono’s commands and that is to execute all children aged six to eight.” A narration enough to show how hopeless the conversation was; information that will strike a pure heart’s conscience.
Now her words are of Mari’s life. Her utterance will be the only key for Mari’s death. Her words aren’t edible enough for a child’s fate in the world of people whom so mediocre thinkers; an adjective I describe for ignorant pests of the society. Stencil papers aren’t too tough to connect the gaps in between such as the line connecting life… and death.
Hopeless, I would say. Nothing moves an order from an unwise leader; reckless, impenetrable, arrogant.
The minute has come. Betrayal has come in hand. The doom was near for the child, helplessly crying in his arms. Spectators expected something been happening for hours yet something different fell in front… of their very eyes.
…
“Mari!” A startled Fuka woke up in confusion.
“Are you all…” Before Takane could finish a statement, Fuka interrupts her from saying. “Who are you? Where am I?! Where’s my daughter? Where’s Mari?! Get out of my way! I’ll look for her!”
“Who’s Mari?! Fuka-sensei wake up!” said Yomi , shaking Fuka up complemented with fear tingling from his spine for he knows something is wrong; inappropriate for their teacher.
Fuka ran and slammed the doors open even though stained in mud of her formal faculty clothes. The doors flung open leaving truanted by Fuka. She rages through the reign of thunder and lightning outside the Palace of the Mystiques. The children cannot do something but watch Fuka’s figure disappear from the darkness of the island for each inch of their bodies are covered in shock, fear and astonishment.
…
“Thank you.” Rura uttered as a tear passes through his manly cheeks.
“Nothing’s wrong Rura. We’re glad we helped.” Sayuri comforts him as she wiped every liquid that drops from his eyes. A sign of compassion only friends do so.
“Fuka!” a very loud shout from the kitchen startled the moment of memorial of Rura for his mother.
Unagi and Sayuri rushes outside in a hurry yet blocked by someone in nearly old body figure; a figure that never lets them to be in danger. “No. You may not go out. The storm is furious. It is too dangerous.”
“But our teacher! She might be in…” Unagi contradicts yet disrupted by a blow on his face. “Are you reckless enough to let your life be in line for nothing?!”
“But it is ethical to look for our teacher and I may be out of respect sir but it is ingratitude for you to hurt your guests!” Sayuri said as she lifts Unagi up.
“You don’t know what you are doing lass. Heed my words. It will only put you in peril.”
“No father! I believe them. Forgive me but I will help them.” Rura interrupted.
“Don’t be a fool Rura!”
“I am not a fool dad! That is why I will revive what mom used to live! Let’s go Sayuri!” Rura explained as she holds Sayuri by her arm and rushes outside.
“No Rura. It is not your duty to protect us. It is our trip and it is our responsibility.”
“No it is not. it is our pleasure”
“Pardon Rura-kun but... I am not a fool and for what I seen earlier, it was not yours or your father to a pleasure to hold us here in your home. I’m soory Rura-kun but it was evident from I witnessed. I’m sorry.”
…
“Kazami!”
“What?” He replied.
“We found it!” Netsuro exclaimed.
The both of them ran to Ryuka’s room not minding the darkness of the poorly lighted hallways; poorly in an unexplainable way for every pillar has a lamp yet still shares a dark aura with the corridors.
“The pool is concentrated with chlorine. And our conclusion is 98% of the pool is chlorine and only 2% is water. Our logical explanation is that the molecules of chlorine clumps to protect themselves from evaporating with the water or should I say they attract each other to create a quite thick surface tension.” Netsuro explains.
“It seems the atoms have their own life too. Even the tiniest thing in this world finds a way to survive through abnormalities and hardships.” Netsuro follows.
“Netsuro! Ryuka and Kazami! You all need to go down!”
“Why?” They all asked seeing the sweated face of Yomi in a tired situation.
“It’s Fuka-sensei.”
“What happened?!”
“We have no clue.”
…
Eun strode towards Yomi and clutched him in his collars. “This is your fault! What did you do to her?! Now we’ll all be in trouble! Fix it! It is your problem! Or else…”
“Or else what?!” He started. “We are her class. It is not only me, nor the Chronicler’s faults even though it isn’t! We need to make her safe. If it isn’t what you think your problem, then don’t exert your efforts!” Yomi replied as he forced himself to get away from Eun’s hands and strode away to the unaware trails of Fuka as Ryuka, Kazami, Takane, Netsuro and Yukari followed.
The skies continued its grief as it showered Goremo. Raindrops fall in place. Trees stand in fear. Daffodils slept in sorrow. The oaks never find peace since those lavas started hell in the island. The once brown soils under their feet are now ashen cracked mud beneath their roots. Those blood soaked surfaces faded with the rain still tainted the leaves and trunks of the oaks. Fuka in her admonished mind knelt under a large oak and continued a grief of a mother she was not; a grief that’ll stroke a literal heart in place; a place I consider, abyss.
“Sensei!” Sayuri shouted in fear as she rushed towards her mud-soaked teacher. “I was worried sensei.”
“Get off of me! Who are you! Where is my daughter?!”
“Sensei?”
“My daughter! They murdered her! She’s innocent! She isn’t a pest! A lacewing! Why do they have to?!”
In his senses, Rura realized something he cannot cling to believe; that name, that word and that act. Rura’s mind and senses left his body to take its peace behind the sturdy trees of Goremo. Along with the wind, gust, the other Chroniclers came in hurried unison.
“She’s fine. She’s fine.” Yukari came and hugged her tight. She embraced her teacher’s pain with all her vigor; a feeling that will keep her protecting the people important in her life not because of the relationship they established but because they needed it as well.
“Mari? She’s fine?”
“ Yes, she is.”
…
“What?! What did you do?! Are you insane?!” Yomi furiously acted. “Do you know where is she? Do you know where that bastard girl is?! Where are we going to look for her?!”
“Calm your voice down Yomi! This isn’t her fault!” Takane querulously responded.
“Then whose? Mine?”
“ No. It’s neither. I don’t know why. Why did she reacted that way! What Yukari did is right! It is the only way to calm her down and if there is the one here making a fight is you, Yomi!”
“Me?! Me?! Are you insane?!”
“Calm down you two! Nothing’s going to change! The only thing we are capable of is observe and investigate.” Netsuro said in his shy and little voice as he points out Takane’s lap top. “And I know where the library is.”
“But, is Fuka-sensei alright?” Sayuri asked in a shaky tone.
“Yes, she is. I tucked her to bed and arranged some things needed for tomorrow.” Yukari said without hesitation.
“How bout’ Rura?”
“Yeah. I have not seen him.”
“I saw him rushing. He went behind those trees and due to it, I conclude that he… went home.”
…
“How many times do I have to tell you that your principles, you and your mother’s are nothing but pathetic mediocrity?! Haven’t you saw how they slaughtered your mother?! In front of our eyes?!”
“Those… are things in the past! I do not tolerate those malevolence now! There are no people who’ll decapitate you in front of your family, there are no people who’ll throw you over window sills and let pointed steel impale your body!”
“Such malediction you utter dear child! I cannot let this recur Rura! Such a disgrace! You will not give them information if they asked you to. Understood?!”
“But father!”
“Enough! I had enough! I want you to have friends but your magnanimity is neither helpful nor hospitable. It is hostile. Very hostile!”
His father walked out from his sight in much anger; an anger whom not wrathful of his child but of in worries and thoughtfulness. Yet in a different angle, Rura’s mouth was wide open as if left
unconscious by his father. The moment, that moment still haven’t sunk to the bottom of his brain. His senses were gone, truanting his motionless body. He cannot move nor talk. All his mind can process was a tear from the center of his heart. He never thought how, why or what was the reason. He wanted to figure out. He wanted to know but none was evident in this time. None is vigor. All were vexed. All were abyss. All is nothing; nothing to know nothing to study for everything… everything is fearsome in every angle.
…
“Forgive me.”
“No sir. Forgive us.”
“I am sorry for the ingratitude. Please accept it.”
“You have nothing to ask for forgiveness sir. What you did is only a father’s concern for his child.”
“Thank you for the understanding. Thank you.”
The sun was shining. The sun embraces the jocose of the skies up above. Trees relieve the pain once more. The daffodils dance in humility in their consent. The gust blew sincerely through them. In a grass’s sight, the Chroniclers face the caretaker in a very humble manner. Sayuri holds his hand and hugs him tight; a compliment to be received by a loving father.
“I… I just want him to be safe… I just… I just don’t want him to be exposed… exposed in such danger…”
Sayuri’s heart melted. It melted of compassion, of tenderness and of love. She can see the true essence of being a father in the caretaker’s tears. She now understood why the caretaker reacted that way last night. She realized that it wasn’t rudeness or inappropriate. She now saw what those words truly mean. Unagi on the other hand, felt a tear rolled down to pour on the grasses scattered dilapidated beneath him. He gradually adjusted and walked slowly towards the caretaker and stared at him as he steps. Inch by inch he felt his aura; an aura he as a son will be proud of. And suddenly, without any ado, he rushed and hugged the caretaker. He embraced him tight and cried heavily on his shoulders. His tears were calm yet aggressive. He cries in pursuit of a father like Rura’s; a father whom would do anything for his son.
“I know…” the caretaker starts. “I know that you love your teacher and I am very much proud to all of you for your bravery. Even the storm was furious last night, you never mind what that peril may be.
From that, I know that you will do anything for anyone you love.”
“Yes. We will. We are the Chroniclers, the outcasts yet somewhat goals for the better of knowledge and our friendship.”
From that statement, the caretaker as well knew the feeling the Chroniclers felt earlier; a feeling of trust. Either of them shared the same sympathetic resonance.
“I hope that kind of attitude will save you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Life is not about optimism itself. No matter how you are indifferent or positive may be, some things still hinder you from achieving what you believe.”
“But neither any of us fails from what we instill in our minds, we do things in knowledge. We study them and somewhat be released from struggles.”
“Impressive. Your attitude is quite unbelievable. You know what, this island possesses abnormal things. You can never explain why those have to happen.”
To a period it is when the winds turned cold. The warmth suddenly perished from the sight. The soft calm breeze shifted behind their shoulders as the caretaker finished his sentence.
“Why? What do you mean?”
“It is not for you to know Netsuro. Never mind what I said. Erase it from your consciousness. Nevertheless, my words are too irrelevant. Forgive me.”
“Wh…”
Silence lingered the air. Their lips closes in awkward phenomenon that no one wants to open a word from their tongues. They watched inch by inch walking away from them the caretaker.
“Yukari! Fuka-sensei woke up!” Rita blurted out from the back door.
Astonishment shocked everyone as they saw the fate-forsaken Fuka on her feet doing a usual routine.
Yukari rushed to her and gave her teacher a warm hug of worries. On the other hand, Fuka was shocked as well. Her eyes gave an unexplainable response to Yukari’s compassion. The Chroniclers stood at their backs, compassionate yet curious.
“I am well, Yukari.”
“What happened? Are you hurt? How are you? We were worried about you sensei!”
“Likewise I said Yukari, I am well and walking.”
“Thank God!” She exclaimed.
“Apart from what happened last night, we are going to have our daytime activity; an orienteering at the hill. All of you, call your classmates.”
The Chroniclers rushed and split their paths. Each of them took each hall to look for every student standing over the island at the south.
Class 3-1 was once again assembled in front of their homeroom teacher, astonished as well. All of them had similar questions on their playful minds. Each one had an interest in the questions than on the activity, Fuka prepared for all of them.
“We will be having orienteering this morning but we lack the materials. Instead, we will be holding a treasure hunt by the hill and anyone who’ll be winning will be the one to be exempted from the investigatory paper. The caretaker arranged 30 riddles scattered on the island. The one who’ll be getting the medallion will be victorious. Pick your partner and suit yourself for we’ll be having it in five minutes then proceed to the front door.”
The students rushed and frantically picked the necessary partners. The Chroniclers were divided into four essential groups. Each group had a plan. Each group had a tactic. Each group prepares. Yet in a different angle, the Chroniclers had another curious idea.
“Netsuro, go with Sayuri. Takane and Unagi still on with the two of you. Yukari and Kazami as usual. Ryuka and I of course. Netsuro, find out all of the island’s activities as you search. Takane, you investigate the place where sensei is found. Yukari, keep up with the game and I will investigate around the buildings. Chroniclers, are you with me?”
“Yes, we are.”
…
The island stood in silence. Neither can’t I explain why it was quiet all of a sudden. Several pictures tend to shut in my mind. All I see is an island of nothing but fear and antiquity; a sight, literally… breathtaking.
Each Chronicler had a task. They had a task to uncover something… something rightfully to be unveiled by people unrightfully to discover. Each of them did each task assigned in full extent yet nothing can in hand. All Netsuro saw were trees shivering above his black rimmed glasses. It reminded him a terror he usually shivers such as; a spider crawling on his limb, being alone in a poorly lit room or probably left outside alone on the breezy night frost. He turned, looked, rubbed, dusted and even dug. His and Sayuri’s are irrelevant. Despite of their undiminished efforts, nothing peeked out to invite them to answers. In an hour or two, a scream enveloped the hills. Now ask yourself, was something they’re looking for or something no one ought for? Screams usually portray grief or terror; something to distract in some ways but now wasn’t what the Chroniclers expected. Eun along with his partner Naito won the orienteering competition. The two lad jumps in glory at the top of the hill and screaming for their success. Ordinarily, each student came down accordingly from the hill; each having a tired smile on the face.
“You all took you part in this mini event I organized. Likewise I promised, Eun, Naito, the two of you will be exempted from the investigatory report. As for now, return to your rooms and prepare for tonight’s observation activity.” And with that, Fuka turned and walked inside the palace. Students went back in their respected rooms with a jolly tire yet beyond the tall wide oaks was a smile of a young man named Rura.
…
“What did you got?”
“None.”
Brains flung around at room 157. The Chroniclers had each idea to fly around the atmosphere. They exchanged speculations, thoughts and even philosophies.
“What just happened earlier is plain weird.” Takane uttered.
“It is. How come Fuka-sensei did not remembered anything that happened yesterday?”
“Are you sure she did not? What if she just hides it?”
“But why should she hide it?”
“Humiliation… I guess?”
“Probably. But I think of a deeper thing than that.”
…
The moon reigned over the melancholic skies. Stars twinkled but nothing of lachrymose. The lights in the dining area were lit for dinner. The chandeliers covered in thick cobwebs illuminated the whole area in freed despair. Each pupil seated those velvet chairs waited for Rura who’ll soon deliver their food. All heads were up to examine the place; some faces portrayed fear yet some fascinated.
Rura came behind from an old Narra door engraved with an unfamiliar emblem on it. As Rura and the
others were busy looking and desiring to have a stuffed dinner, Netsuro observed that emblem, the emblem which reminded him of more eradicated thing, a thing, something… something on his mind which he cannot… exhume.
“Roasted Duck?!”
“Practically, yes. Is there any problem?” Rura anticipated for a complain.
“But I don’t eat ducks!” Mimi shouts as her face portrays inconvenience, uncomforted and disgusted.
Mimi’s act boiled the blood inside the caretaker… causing him to frustrate and even to answer back.
“Apparently, your attitude is rude, young lady. It is comfort we serve to our guests not a barbaric feast to them.”
Fuka stood up and hurriedly ran in front of steaming caretaker who keeps his temper below his interests. “I am terribly sorry Sir. That wasn’t intended. I am very sorry. Gomenasai.”
“There is no need for an apology sensei. It is not you who’s fault. Anyways, start your feast and hope for abundance. Good appetite.” With a quote, he left. He left in silence and… stares.
“The skies brewed once more. The stars’ light vanished its radiance from a visual show with the moon as its spotlight. As the beauty faded in tranquil unison, the clouds seemed full and accommodated the vacant, dark sky.
“Now what?! We are not going to see it again?!” Takane complained, grasping for the extraordinary phenomenon.
The Class 3-1 felt the same frustration yet some were esoterically overjoyed. Why? Of course, a work shall be evacuating their hectic and minimized schedule. The Chroniclers were all disappointed. All of them waited for the moment of amazement yet it just seemed to fall off with the heavy rain storming above them.
“Since it started raining, our project might be changed. Just submit your proposals, and then I’ll think of another topic. Dismissed.”
The students walked back to their precious little abode. Insidious, waiting and silent does the lacewings are. Netsuro sat still on his bed, reading and entertaining himself with a book of a horror genre. The words seem to blurt out from the pages as Netsuro brushes off the dust on his black rimmed glasses. He and Kazami cringes in frost as the winds flew brutally in and out of the window.
As Kazami tried to close the wind-battered window, the gust angrily whipped off its force knocking off the curtains down to stir up the fear in them. It wasn’t that fearsome yet what startled their hearts more, is the thunder who roared of its wrath over the roofs of the palace. Startled, they rushed outside and hurried to Yukari’s room down the hallway.
“Maybe it was nothing. Just an explosive conversion of Nitrogen.” Netsuro proposed with a shaking voice trying to relive an evident fear that recklessly rushes down his systems.
“I hope it is, Netsuro-san.”
…
The night was long yet not as heavy as the rain who subsided while everybody was wide asleep. All eyes were closed, grasping for the fictitious world that accepts them whole. Differently, the caretaker watched the dorm from his house, danger, he thinks. His mouth and heart kept silent despite of the peril that might outraged sooner… or later. His stares were inevitable as the moon up above silently sitting, unnoticed as the Ruby inside the Hall of the Mystiques, forgotten and lost.
Dear Reader,
Things in life are not to be found on a single pace. Many of you will be confused of why a Ruby is related to Netsuro’s story. Not all things, answers or facts are to be found on a single path whom I consider to be systematically sprinkled over the book.
Just like the roses, every beauty lays a thorn underneath. Every grace lays a flaw back then. Nothing can be perfect from an egg itself. An egg shall be embraced, fortified and be taken care of. An egg shall hatch with a beautiful and healthy chick whom shall grow and fly underneath the sky.
Lilies were perfect. They were perfect from every angle but not as productive as we see. Calmness is a prototype of perfection. A perfection that cannot allow a flaw to intervene yet now, as the Ruby is unaware of its tracks, fate cannot be escaped. As the vest of life started to be knitted, it cannot… be stopped.
Sincerely Yours,
The Black Rose
“You think so Minami? Well what would be your stand for our children who died because of your children?! They’re innocent as well. Aren’t they?! But why do they have to die?! Yours and various Mystiques’ children are the cause of… of this havoc! And not… us! so insert that fact to your tiny ignorant brain!”
“No! It is all false! You got it all wrong! Do not be fooled by the psychotic delusion of Fujima…” the sentence was then finished with a bloody slap on her face.
The man dragged the poor Mari up the palace, leaving her poor mother unconscious and ingratitude.
The carpet so velvet welcomes her to a doom so unnerving and distressful; a once serene hall for loving people yet now for frantic bozos in search for a cure that was not even here. The cure who’ll they think be set free in each wail released from a poor child’s larynx.
Her fear is evident enough to recognize such fright. A crying Mari felt uneasiness as the pang of terror shivered her once more. The hand of a stranger she looks up was tight in her senses. No matter how struggle she practiced, nothing came in hand. Still, the man pitilessly drags her to an undefined place they called salvation.
“Halt!” a voice from the hallway shouts of displeasure to the stranger holding Mari in great tight.
“Why, Cordelia-sama? Such pity with this lacewing? Such pest for our organization; pest for your son and to our people.” The stranger addressed to a woman wearing an elegant maroon gown in her early 20s.
“This is injustice! What on earth pushed you to take their inhuman orders? God never favored such acts! Release her at once.”
“I am afraid I cannot Cordelia-sama. You are only the secretary of this organization and in accord with the Mystique’s orders, I shall only follow Fujimara-dono’s commands and that is to execute all children aged six to eight.” A narration enough to show how hopeless the conversation was; information that will strike a pure heart’s conscience.
Now her words are of Mari’s life. Her utterance will be the only key for Mari’s death. Her words aren’t edible enough for a child’s fate in the world of people whom so mediocre thinkers; an adjective I describe for ignorant pests of the society. Stencil papers aren’t too tough to connect the gaps in between such as the line connecting life… and death.
Hopeless, I would say. Nothing moves an order from an unwise leader; reckless, impenetrable, arrogant.
The minute has come. Betrayal has come in hand. The doom was near for the child, helplessly crying in his arms. Spectators expected something been happening for hours yet something different fell in front… of their very eyes.
…
“Mari!” A startled Fuka woke up in confusion.
“Are you all…” Before Takane could finish a statement, Fuka interrupts her from saying. “Who are you? Where am I?! Where’s my daughter? Where’s Mari?! Get out of my way! I’ll look for her!”
“Who’s Mari?! Fuka-sensei wake up!” said Yomi , shaking Fuka up complemented with fear tingling from his spine for he knows something is wrong; inappropriate for their teacher.
Fuka ran and slammed the doors open even though stained in mud of her formal faculty clothes. The doors flung open leaving truanted by Fuka. She rages through the reign of thunder and lightning outside the Palace of the Mystiques. The children cannot do something but watch Fuka’s figure disappear from the darkness of the island for each inch of their bodies are covered in shock, fear and astonishment.
…
“Thank you.” Rura uttered as a tear passes through his manly cheeks.
“Nothing’s wrong Rura. We’re glad we helped.” Sayuri comforts him as she wiped every liquid that drops from his eyes. A sign of compassion only friends do so.
“Fuka!” a very loud shout from the kitchen startled the moment of memorial of Rura for his mother.
Unagi and Sayuri rushes outside in a hurry yet blocked by someone in nearly old body figure; a figure that never lets them to be in danger. “No. You may not go out. The storm is furious. It is too dangerous.”
“But our teacher! She might be in…” Unagi contradicts yet disrupted by a blow on his face. “Are you reckless enough to let your life be in line for nothing?!”
“But it is ethical to look for our teacher and I may be out of respect sir but it is ingratitude for you to hurt your guests!” Sayuri said as she lifts Unagi up.
“You don’t know what you are doing lass. Heed my words. It will only put you in peril.”
“No father! I believe them. Forgive me but I will help them.” Rura interrupted.
“Don’t be a fool Rura!”
“I am not a fool dad! That is why I will revive what mom used to live! Let’s go Sayuri!” Rura explained as she holds Sayuri by her arm and rushes outside.
“No Rura. It is not your duty to protect us. It is our trip and it is our responsibility.”
“No it is not. it is our pleasure”
“Pardon Rura-kun but... I am not a fool and for what I seen earlier, it was not yours or your father to a pleasure to hold us here in your home. I’m soory Rura-kun but it was evident from I witnessed. I’m sorry.”
…
“Kazami!”
“What?” He replied.
“We found it!” Netsuro exclaimed.
The both of them ran to Ryuka’s room not minding the darkness of the poorly lighted hallways; poorly in an unexplainable way for every pillar has a lamp yet still shares a dark aura with the corridors.
“The pool is concentrated with chlorine. And our conclusion is 98% of the pool is chlorine and only 2% is water. Our logical explanation is that the molecules of chlorine clumps to protect themselves from evaporating with the water or should I say they attract each other to create a quite thick surface tension.” Netsuro explains.
“It seems the atoms have their own life too. Even the tiniest thing in this world finds a way to survive through abnormalities and hardships.” Netsuro follows.
“Netsuro! Ryuka and Kazami! You all need to go down!”
“Why?” They all asked seeing the sweated face of Yomi in a tired situation.
“It’s Fuka-sensei.”
“What happened?!”
“We have no clue.”
…
Eun strode towards Yomi and clutched him in his collars. “This is your fault! What did you do to her?! Now we’ll all be in trouble! Fix it! It is your problem! Or else…”
“Or else what?!” He started. “We are her class. It is not only me, nor the Chronicler’s faults even though it isn’t! We need to make her safe. If it isn’t what you think your problem, then don’t exert your efforts!” Yomi replied as he forced himself to get away from Eun’s hands and strode away to the unaware trails of Fuka as Ryuka, Kazami, Takane, Netsuro and Yukari followed.
The skies continued its grief as it showered Goremo. Raindrops fall in place. Trees stand in fear. Daffodils slept in sorrow. The oaks never find peace since those lavas started hell in the island. The once brown soils under their feet are now ashen cracked mud beneath their roots. Those blood soaked surfaces faded with the rain still tainted the leaves and trunks of the oaks. Fuka in her admonished mind knelt under a large oak and continued a grief of a mother she was not; a grief that’ll stroke a literal heart in place; a place I consider, abyss.
“Sensei!” Sayuri shouted in fear as she rushed towards her mud-soaked teacher. “I was worried sensei.”
“Get off of me! Who are you! Where is my daughter?!”
“Sensei?”
“My daughter! They murdered her! She’s innocent! She isn’t a pest! A lacewing! Why do they have to?!”
In his senses, Rura realized something he cannot cling to believe; that name, that word and that act. Rura’s mind and senses left his body to take its peace behind the sturdy trees of Goremo. Along with the wind, gust, the other Chroniclers came in hurried unison.
“She’s fine. She’s fine.” Yukari came and hugged her tight. She embraced her teacher’s pain with all her vigor; a feeling that will keep her protecting the people important in her life not because of the relationship they established but because they needed it as well.
“Mari? She’s fine?”
“ Yes, she is.”
…
“What?! What did you do?! Are you insane?!” Yomi furiously acted. “Do you know where is she? Do you know where that bastard girl is?! Where are we going to look for her?!”
“Calm your voice down Yomi! This isn’t her fault!” Takane querulously responded.
“Then whose? Mine?”
“ No. It’s neither. I don’t know why. Why did she reacted that way! What Yukari did is right! It is the only way to calm her down and if there is the one here making a fight is you, Yomi!”
“Me?! Me?! Are you insane?!”
“Calm down you two! Nothing’s going to change! The only thing we are capable of is observe and investigate.” Netsuro said in his shy and little voice as he points out Takane’s lap top. “And I know where the library is.”
“But, is Fuka-sensei alright?” Sayuri asked in a shaky tone.
“Yes, she is. I tucked her to bed and arranged some things needed for tomorrow.” Yukari said without hesitation.
“How bout’ Rura?”
“Yeah. I have not seen him.”
“I saw him rushing. He went behind those trees and due to it, I conclude that he… went home.”
…
“How many times do I have to tell you that your principles, you and your mother’s are nothing but pathetic mediocrity?! Haven’t you saw how they slaughtered your mother?! In front of our eyes?!”
“Those… are things in the past! I do not tolerate those malevolence now! There are no people who’ll decapitate you in front of your family, there are no people who’ll throw you over window sills and let pointed steel impale your body!”
“Such malediction you utter dear child! I cannot let this recur Rura! Such a disgrace! You will not give them information if they asked you to. Understood?!”
“But father!”
“Enough! I had enough! I want you to have friends but your magnanimity is neither helpful nor hospitable. It is hostile. Very hostile!”
His father walked out from his sight in much anger; an anger whom not wrathful of his child but of in worries and thoughtfulness. Yet in a different angle, Rura’s mouth was wide open as if left
unconscious by his father. The moment, that moment still haven’t sunk to the bottom of his brain. His senses were gone, truanting his motionless body. He cannot move nor talk. All his mind can process was a tear from the center of his heart. He never thought how, why or what was the reason. He wanted to figure out. He wanted to know but none was evident in this time. None is vigor. All were vexed. All were abyss. All is nothing; nothing to know nothing to study for everything… everything is fearsome in every angle.
…
“Forgive me.”
“No sir. Forgive us.”
“I am sorry for the ingratitude. Please accept it.”
“You have nothing to ask for forgiveness sir. What you did is only a father’s concern for his child.”
“Thank you for the understanding. Thank you.”
The sun was shining. The sun embraces the jocose of the skies up above. Trees relieve the pain once more. The daffodils dance in humility in their consent. The gust blew sincerely through them. In a grass’s sight, the Chroniclers face the caretaker in a very humble manner. Sayuri holds his hand and hugs him tight; a compliment to be received by a loving father.
“I… I just want him to be safe… I just… I just don’t want him to be exposed… exposed in such danger…”
Sayuri’s heart melted. It melted of compassion, of tenderness and of love. She can see the true essence of being a father in the caretaker’s tears. She now understood why the caretaker reacted that way last night. She realized that it wasn’t rudeness or inappropriate. She now saw what those words truly mean. Unagi on the other hand, felt a tear rolled down to pour on the grasses scattered dilapidated beneath him. He gradually adjusted and walked slowly towards the caretaker and stared at him as he steps. Inch by inch he felt his aura; an aura he as a son will be proud of. And suddenly, without any ado, he rushed and hugged the caretaker. He embraced him tight and cried heavily on his shoulders. His tears were calm yet aggressive. He cries in pursuit of a father like Rura’s; a father whom would do anything for his son.
“I know…” the caretaker starts. “I know that you love your teacher and I am very much proud to all of you for your bravery. Even the storm was furious last night, you never mind what that peril may be.
From that, I know that you will do anything for anyone you love.”
“Yes. We will. We are the Chroniclers, the outcasts yet somewhat goals for the better of knowledge and our friendship.”
From that statement, the caretaker as well knew the feeling the Chroniclers felt earlier; a feeling of trust. Either of them shared the same sympathetic resonance.
“I hope that kind of attitude will save you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Life is not about optimism itself. No matter how you are indifferent or positive may be, some things still hinder you from achieving what you believe.”
“But neither any of us fails from what we instill in our minds, we do things in knowledge. We study them and somewhat be released from struggles.”
“Impressive. Your attitude is quite unbelievable. You know what, this island possesses abnormal things. You can never explain why those have to happen.”
To a period it is when the winds turned cold. The warmth suddenly perished from the sight. The soft calm breeze shifted behind their shoulders as the caretaker finished his sentence.
“Why? What do you mean?”
“It is not for you to know Netsuro. Never mind what I said. Erase it from your consciousness. Nevertheless, my words are too irrelevant. Forgive me.”
“Wh…”
Silence lingered the air. Their lips closes in awkward phenomenon that no one wants to open a word from their tongues. They watched inch by inch walking away from them the caretaker.
“Yukari! Fuka-sensei woke up!” Rita blurted out from the back door.
Astonishment shocked everyone as they saw the fate-forsaken Fuka on her feet doing a usual routine.
Yukari rushed to her and gave her teacher a warm hug of worries. On the other hand, Fuka was shocked as well. Her eyes gave an unexplainable response to Yukari’s compassion. The Chroniclers stood at their backs, compassionate yet curious.
“I am well, Yukari.”
“What happened? Are you hurt? How are you? We were worried about you sensei!”
“Likewise I said Yukari, I am well and walking.”
“Thank God!” She exclaimed.
“Apart from what happened last night, we are going to have our daytime activity; an orienteering at the hill. All of you, call your classmates.”
The Chroniclers rushed and split their paths. Each of them took each hall to look for every student standing over the island at the south.
Class 3-1 was once again assembled in front of their homeroom teacher, astonished as well. All of them had similar questions on their playful minds. Each one had an interest in the questions than on the activity, Fuka prepared for all of them.
“We will be having orienteering this morning but we lack the materials. Instead, we will be holding a treasure hunt by the hill and anyone who’ll be winning will be the one to be exempted from the investigatory paper. The caretaker arranged 30 riddles scattered on the island. The one who’ll be getting the medallion will be victorious. Pick your partner and suit yourself for we’ll be having it in five minutes then proceed to the front door.”
The students rushed and frantically picked the necessary partners. The Chroniclers were divided into four essential groups. Each group had a plan. Each group had a tactic. Each group prepares. Yet in a different angle, the Chroniclers had another curious idea.
“Netsuro, go with Sayuri. Takane and Unagi still on with the two of you. Yukari and Kazami as usual. Ryuka and I of course. Netsuro, find out all of the island’s activities as you search. Takane, you investigate the place where sensei is found. Yukari, keep up with the game and I will investigate around the buildings. Chroniclers, are you with me?”
“Yes, we are.”
…
The island stood in silence. Neither can’t I explain why it was quiet all of a sudden. Several pictures tend to shut in my mind. All I see is an island of nothing but fear and antiquity; a sight, literally… breathtaking.
Each Chronicler had a task. They had a task to uncover something… something rightfully to be unveiled by people unrightfully to discover. Each of them did each task assigned in full extent yet nothing can in hand. All Netsuro saw were trees shivering above his black rimmed glasses. It reminded him a terror he usually shivers such as; a spider crawling on his limb, being alone in a poorly lit room or probably left outside alone on the breezy night frost. He turned, looked, rubbed, dusted and even dug. His and Sayuri’s are irrelevant. Despite of their undiminished efforts, nothing peeked out to invite them to answers. In an hour or two, a scream enveloped the hills. Now ask yourself, was something they’re looking for or something no one ought for? Screams usually portray grief or terror; something to distract in some ways but now wasn’t what the Chroniclers expected. Eun along with his partner Naito won the orienteering competition. The two lad jumps in glory at the top of the hill and screaming for their success. Ordinarily, each student came down accordingly from the hill; each having a tired smile on the face.
“You all took you part in this mini event I organized. Likewise I promised, Eun, Naito, the two of you will be exempted from the investigatory report. As for now, return to your rooms and prepare for tonight’s observation activity.” And with that, Fuka turned and walked inside the palace. Students went back in their respected rooms with a jolly tire yet beyond the tall wide oaks was a smile of a young man named Rura.
…
“What did you got?”
“None.”
Brains flung around at room 157. The Chroniclers had each idea to fly around the atmosphere. They exchanged speculations, thoughts and even philosophies.
“What just happened earlier is plain weird.” Takane uttered.
“It is. How come Fuka-sensei did not remembered anything that happened yesterday?”
“Are you sure she did not? What if she just hides it?”
“But why should she hide it?”
“Humiliation… I guess?”
“Probably. But I think of a deeper thing than that.”
…
The moon reigned over the melancholic skies. Stars twinkled but nothing of lachrymose. The lights in the dining area were lit for dinner. The chandeliers covered in thick cobwebs illuminated the whole area in freed despair. Each pupil seated those velvet chairs waited for Rura who’ll soon deliver their food. All heads were up to examine the place; some faces portrayed fear yet some fascinated.
Rura came behind from an old Narra door engraved with an unfamiliar emblem on it. As Rura and the
others were busy looking and desiring to have a stuffed dinner, Netsuro observed that emblem, the emblem which reminded him of more eradicated thing, a thing, something… something on his mind which he cannot… exhume.
“Roasted Duck?!”
“Practically, yes. Is there any problem?” Rura anticipated for a complain.
“But I don’t eat ducks!” Mimi shouts as her face portrays inconvenience, uncomforted and disgusted.
Mimi’s act boiled the blood inside the caretaker… causing him to frustrate and even to answer back.
“Apparently, your attitude is rude, young lady. It is comfort we serve to our guests not a barbaric feast to them.”
Fuka stood up and hurriedly ran in front of steaming caretaker who keeps his temper below his interests. “I am terribly sorry Sir. That wasn’t intended. I am very sorry. Gomenasai.”
“There is no need for an apology sensei. It is not you who’s fault. Anyways, start your feast and hope for abundance. Good appetite.” With a quote, he left. He left in silence and… stares.
“The skies brewed once more. The stars’ light vanished its radiance from a visual show with the moon as its spotlight. As the beauty faded in tranquil unison, the clouds seemed full and accommodated the vacant, dark sky.
“Now what?! We are not going to see it again?!” Takane complained, grasping for the extraordinary phenomenon.
The Class 3-1 felt the same frustration yet some were esoterically overjoyed. Why? Of course, a work shall be evacuating their hectic and minimized schedule. The Chroniclers were all disappointed. All of them waited for the moment of amazement yet it just seemed to fall off with the heavy rain storming above them.
“Since it started raining, our project might be changed. Just submit your proposals, and then I’ll think of another topic. Dismissed.”
The students walked back to their precious little abode. Insidious, waiting and silent does the lacewings are. Netsuro sat still on his bed, reading and entertaining himself with a book of a horror genre. The words seem to blurt out from the pages as Netsuro brushes off the dust on his black rimmed glasses. He and Kazami cringes in frost as the winds flew brutally in and out of the window.
As Kazami tried to close the wind-battered window, the gust angrily whipped off its force knocking off the curtains down to stir up the fear in them. It wasn’t that fearsome yet what startled their hearts more, is the thunder who roared of its wrath over the roofs of the palace. Startled, they rushed outside and hurried to Yukari’s room down the hallway.
“Maybe it was nothing. Just an explosive conversion of Nitrogen.” Netsuro proposed with a shaking voice trying to relive an evident fear that recklessly rushes down his systems.
“I hope it is, Netsuro-san.”
…
The night was long yet not as heavy as the rain who subsided while everybody was wide asleep. All eyes were closed, grasping for the fictitious world that accepts them whole. Differently, the caretaker watched the dorm from his house, danger, he thinks. His mouth and heart kept silent despite of the peril that might outraged sooner… or later. His stares were inevitable as the moon up above silently sitting, unnoticed as the Ruby inside the Hall of the Mystiques, forgotten and lost.
Dear Reader,
Things in life are not to be found on a single pace. Many of you will be confused of why a Ruby is related to Netsuro’s story. Not all things, answers or facts are to be found on a single path whom I consider to be systematically sprinkled over the book.
Just like the roses, every beauty lays a thorn underneath. Every grace lays a flaw back then. Nothing can be perfect from an egg itself. An egg shall be embraced, fortified and be taken care of. An egg shall hatch with a beautiful and healthy chick whom shall grow and fly underneath the sky.
Lilies were perfect. They were perfect from every angle but not as productive as we see. Calmness is a prototype of perfection. A perfection that cannot allow a flaw to intervene yet now, as the Ruby is unaware of its tracks, fate cannot be escaped. As the vest of life started to be knitted, it cannot… be stopped.
Sincerely Yours,
The Black Rose