Wind Shear

by Firia

 

Like Rapunzel locked in her tower, waiting on her balcony, Eiji Okumura does little these days aside from staring out of the window.  Sure, this is a high rise in New York, and he is neither female or possessing inhuman lengths of hair, but he supposes the analogy still works in some bizarre way.

 

Sighing, he watches as dusk falls on the dull, gray cityscape.  The weather is extremely cold, but judging from the lack of fanfare from Ash or his gang, he supposes it is not unseasonably so.  As the natural light of day fades into the west, night creeps over New York, held at bay by the slow march of neon-lighted billboards, store and restaurant signs and the endless parade of hundreds of headlights.  Blurs of white lights on one side of the street; equal streams of bright red on the other.  It's pretty, he thinks, if only because the lights keep the encroaching darkness away.  He wonders if Ash ever thinks about the city lights.

 

The wind is biting and unforgiving, but he can't bring himself to completely close the window he leans against.  He's always liked the crispness of winter air.  It's one of those things he can't really explain.  In the same way he has a fondness for the moon because it reminds him of Ibe, or how the smell of freesia feels like home.

 

His grandmother loves freesia-scented potpourri.

 

There's one tree that stands just in front of the complex.  It's thin, stark white, and bared of its leaves.  He likes to think that it stood tall and strong once before, but now it has forgotten how to be a tree.  So the harsh wind bends the tree to its will.  A particularly fierce gust seems as if it could snap the little form into a million shards and scatter it across the city.  Maybe the pieces would be carried over the ocean.  Far, far away from New York, never to return.

 

He shivers.

 

"What are you staring at?"  A whispered voice; sudden warmth beside him.  Perhaps it's indulgent, but he can't help but lean a little closer to this one person.  He closes his eyes and breathes deeply.  The stress and uncertainty that bottles itself up tight within his chest every morning seeps away now that night has fallen and Ash has returned.

 

"Ah . . . I was looking at that tree."  He replies absently.  The words feel ridiculous as they spill from his mouth.  He wonders if Ash will laugh.

 

"It's a nice tree," Ash says as if he's truly contemplating its merits.  "I like it because it seems weak but it's really not.  It's strong enough to stand up against the wind."

 

"But it might not be strong forever," Eiji murmurs.  He edges back a just little further until his body nearly touches that solid warmth.  He wants to lean all the way back but doesn't.

 

One day, its strength may fail and the wind will carry it someplace far away against its will.  But he won't say that aloud to Ash.

 

"Do you see that other tree just over there next to it?"  Ash grasps Eiji by the shoulders, one arm extending around the slighter boy towards the window.

 

Eiji's eyes follow the path of Ash's pointed finger.  A short distance away from the small tree is another one.  This tree stands proud and tall, towering over its tiny neighbor.  Its branches also bare from the ravages of winter, but they seem strong; no mere breeze could ever ruffle them.

 

"No matter what happens, that one will always be there beside it."  Effortlessly, arms wrap around him; that small space between them breached.  It's a comforting weight in the darkness.

 

His throat hurts and his eyes water just a bit, but he quickly blinks the tears away.  It's not something he can really explain.