★ | I, Rhys Kakyoin | Jotakak

61 ☆ Time and space

Within Rayard Miyashita, the corridors leading into different shops brim with strolling people. The place smells like cardboard boxes of wrapped shoes stuffed with bunched paper and unworn clothes hanging from metal racks, and even though it's cool with the blow of air conditioners, it feels muggy, dry, like I'm in a vacuum.

"Jotaro. Do you know if she's here, in this building, right now?" I ask Jo, whose attentiveness to everything around him strains his face.

He utters a sharp, shallow sigh, pressing a hand against his head. "I don't know, I can't see. It's... too noisy."

"Would your headphones help?"

"Probably not. The lights."

I loop my arm around his, taking him along more hastily. "The restaurant is dim, so you'll be fine there. Let's hurry."

I don't get too far, only a few steps, as he tugs me backwards, stopping in his tracks the moment I pull him. My arm locked within his, he tries to look at me, each moment our gazes meet his eyes deep into mine. As if this exchange between us would be our last. "Wait, Rhys, whatever happens..."

I shake my head. "Nothing will happen to me, I swear." His eyes are full. The glint of fluorescent light twinkles upon his cap.

"Whatever happens, I love you. I never stopped. Not one moment." He exhales now; it's a weight off his enervated shoulders. Then he yields, and I manage to take him along on my path again. He hopes to erase any doubt I had about him, and help me find closure. It means he's not confident in me. He's not confident in himself. The curse's ineffectiveness, and my invincibility as the Anomaly means I won't die, I can't surrender to fate, or death's clutches; it never said anything about the people around me.

What had he seen, about her, that Phantomer? What did Highway Star show him? What had he discovered? What is he contemplating?

This is when the fear sets in, really.

I've only been to Din Tai Fung once before, with my parents when Jo was sick at home. Before I'd gone to school in the morning I remember Mom suggesting we eat there with him and his mother, try the noodles and the dumplings and whatnot.

Mrs Kujo would have said, it's the perfect time to tell her, we might reduce the tension being there and the setting is warm enough. It's time, Noriaki. In her voice, and hearing it would feel like pressing your cheek against a cool duvet, wrapping it around your skin. I wouldn't tell her everything at once; I'd start with Hierophant Green first, with all the razzle-dazzle that he has to offer her, the way I had shown it to Mr Kogure, but in littler displays, like presenting her with a gallery of fine jewellery.

Then I would hold her hand, and I would tell her everything. Not everything, of course, I wouldn't want her too horrified. I'd leave out some parts, like the demons in the house and the disorder the Minister tries to make pervade my mind, disturb its balance. The more I tell her the stronger my grasp on her would become, a comfort to her hammering heart. All the noise in the background would wash away, and it would only be me and her, me and my mother.

I would reach for her embrace; if she denies it, I would understand. I would smile. If she were to cry I would find a tissue. If she wants to yell I would absorb all of it, like I have absorbed all the pain throughout these months — that would be okay. If she reaches to strike me I would take it, and I'd hang my head low. Whatever she would say, I would never put the blame on her.

I would become something different; elevated, maybe, exalted, a different image. My mind would be taken back to that conversation, her words echoing, lingering. Whatever happens, tell me. I'd feel accomplished.