Keep me in distant sight

Chapter 11 : An empty bliss beyond this world

Light travels at approximately 300,000 kilometers per second in vacuum. 18,000,000 kilometers per minute. Multiply by sixty and you have the distance traveled per hour. Multiply again by 24 and you have the distance per day : 25,902,068,371 kilometers.

This simple multiplication is how Akaashi keeps track of time. He doesn't have a clock, he doesn't have a calendar, he only has his useless pod telling him he woke up one year early and his flight map showing the progress he has made so far. Every 25,902,068,371 kilometers, he knows a day has passed and scratches on the floor until he engraves a tiny mark. It also helps with keeping his nails in shape.

So far, he has made 45 marks. One month and 2 weeks have passed since his awakening. Still ten months and two weeks to wait. Inside his prison, nothing has changed. It's empty of sounds and devoid of natural light - the soft yellow glow casts shadows everywhere, on the metal and on him, shrouding him in evanescent gleam. Some days, he takes comfort in being bathed in this light. It reminds him of his parents and the rare times he could visit them after he was enrolled in the EASA. Their house, with their windows always half-closed, wasn't that much brighter. It reminds him of their unwavering support and the silent pride of seeing their only son succeed in his studies despite the odds, their silent approbation of his Soulbond. Some days, the light actually reminds him of his even rarer days off spent leisuring with Akinori, Shōyō and Hitoka, the way they could build a tiny impermeable bubble where all their worries were washed away for a few blissful hours.

And some days, it only serves as a torture device. It screams at him his condition and his slowly degrading health. He's thinner than he was a month ago. His hair has started brushing the tip of his jaw. He isn't hairy but a light fuzz is spreading on his cheeks, only contained by the laser shower. This light is unnatural and only laughs in his face because when he turns around and looks through the windows, everything is black beyond the translucent shields. There's nothing in front, nothing behind, nothing on the sides, above, under, nothing for millions and millions and millions of kilometers. No visible light, no hearable sound, close to no matter, nothing but the wide expanse of nothing composing the majority of the observable Universe. With the speed of his spaceship, all the pretty stars are now invisible to him.

Void.

He's flying at the speed of light and still, he can see no changes in the scenery offered to him.

He still has such a long way to go before he can land...

His only escape is either his memories or the words Kōtarō writes.

Today, Akaashi is sitting beside his pod, his back laying on it and his legs spread in front of him. He devours the loops and curves of the nillian language as well as the bold and flat letters of U.L like he starved man. Then, he re-reads again and, because he cannot answer, he chooses to reply outloud. It's something he had started doing during the last week and he finds it oddly soothing.

"I'm glad of your victory of course. Who wouldn't be proud of such a brilliant athlete?"

"I wonder why you're so invested in your teammates' love affair, what are you, a love guru?"

"If you keep saying you're the best, you might jinx your next match, though.."

"That's... not how you use this word. I get it, don't worry."

"Of course, Tetsurō would do something like this, you tell me all the time he's head over heels for Kenma."

"I'm doing okay now that I read you. I would like to go back to sleep but I can't. It's lonely."

"Oh no, I don't have sweet dreams. Be it in the pod or in my bed, my nights are rather boring."

Akaashi smiles softly as he takes his time to graze the writing with his fingertips. He doesn't know why Kōtarō feels the need to write everyday compared to before but it's a blessing, even if bittersweet. At least it gives him something to look forward to.