Spirited Away II: Return to the Spirit Realm

Chapter 27

A picture, they say, is a worth a thousand words. An emotion is worth a thousand pictures.

That was Kaede's motto for the past decade. Maybe it was because that was how he was feeling most of the time, or because it was so different from his "be bold, be righteous," motto he had in his previous life, but it seemed to suit him in an odd sort of way. He wasn't bold. He wasn't righteous, either, for goodness' sake. A righteous person would boldly do the correct thing, and yet what started out with the world's best intentions at heart went horribly wrong.

Taking a shuddering breath, Kaede cast a calculative glance around the room. It was astoundingly more humble than the majority of households in the Spirit Realm. Floorboards were shiny from a recent scrubbing. A clean veil of cottony drapes hung quietly over the closed windows, and the room still smelled strongly of fresh garden air. Then, standing on the middle of the table, was a wicker basket brimming with strawberries – a pricy, red-blood delicacy in his world.

The strawberries probably would not rot. It was like comparing the flow of condensed milk and juice. Everything in every other universe would change, years will pass, entire populations will go extinct, stars will explode, but this tiny world will stay the same. It will hardly even age.

He knew that wretched feeling. In a similar manner he watched his own world during the past decade flourish, alter, and break down, watched the fall and rise of his solemn-faced wife, searched fruitlessly for his son, thankfully regained him, and now watched every speckle and atom of his world succumb to the Dark Spirit's power. He watched, all the while bonded to another world by an oath.

But now, he was as free of that oath as a bird ... as long as he did not think of the gruesome aftermath.

The door swung open with a terrific bang, and Kaede stepped out into a beautiful scene. It turned out that his uncle was a splendid gardener. Rows of roses, carnations, peonies, and daisies interwove with silky green grass. Trees bore plump, honeyed fruit. Bushes displayed ripe, sugary berries. Besides one of those strawberry bushes was a pond, perfectly round and glimmering in the sunshine. It was brightly azure, the color of Akira's eyes. The familiarity made Kaede cringe.

Oh, Akira ...

If only none of this had happened, he used to think. If only they were still together. Blue ringlets brushed her rosy cheek. Red lips firmly pulled into a smile. Her face flashed in his mind again and again, like a reappearing phantom. That memory used to drain gallons of tears, splotchy, red skin, and red-rimmed eyes, and, most importantly, precious time lost. But now time was of the essence, more than ever before. He blinked away a tear, pushed his wife's image away, and jogged to the back of the house, where there was a shed covered by vines.

Unseen hands untangled the vines from the door. It sprang open by itself on rusty hinges. As Kaede stepped inside and surveyed the minimal furnishings, his brain relived ancient memories.

Uncle Daisuke wrenched a wet washcloth over Kaede's head and then turned to him with a sympathetic gleam in his eyes. "You're so ill."

"Nor am I as ill," said the king stammeringly, "as my world is in danger."

"What do you speak of, nephew?"

"Of a danger, uncle. In a thousand years, the Dark Spirit will regain its strength and multiply its intelligence to break out of the Abyss. Then, I fear, even I won't be able to stop it."

The Sire looked at him, eyes flaring.

"You dare to create a curse instead of a blessing! Very well, then. Alone you will fail, but together we stand a chance. Stay with me, and we'll find a way. There is one thing that must be taken into consideration, however: time passes one hundred times quicker here than there.