Tokyo Babylon: Sound prelude: Silence / Breaking "Subaru!" She called out his name, running, stumbling forward across endless sands, trying to catch up to the figure who walked calmly ahead of her. She could see him, not even one dune away. His soft black hair aborbed the sunlight, but the hakama and kimono sleeves of his white temple robes fluttered brightly in the dry desert wind. "Subaru!" He couldn't hear her, or he was ignoring her. She stumbled in the sand and fell, immediately struggling to her feet. She could only watch as he made no alteration in his smooth, even stride, and vanished from her sight in a matter of seconds. With a cry, she started running after him again. She had to tell him... he had to know.... * * * Midori woke from her dream with a gasp and opened her eyes. The dark of her room provided an immediate contrast with the brightly-lit desert, and she turned her head to determine how early it was. "Three a.m.," she murmured, reading the red digital display of her clock. She was no longer the slightest bit tired. Her eyes grew used to the darkness, and she was able to see the lamp and telephone on her bedside table in the dim red light of the clock's numbers. In the drawer was his phone number. Subaru's number. She didn't even have to look at it to know the numbers. She didn't even have to think to know the musical tune dialing it would make. "I'm that obsessed over him... and it's been years," Midori murmured, rolling over onto her side to stare at the wall. It was hard not to think of him... especially now. She saw his reflection every time she looked at their son... felt his touch every time she slipped a nightshirt on... heard his soft voice in the breeze through the trees. "I always was an incurable romantic, especially around anniversaries." She sighed. "Eight years since we met, nearly eight years since I saw him last. I'm pathetic." It was all very simple. Pick up the phone and call him, her subconcious urged. "Oh, come on, what would I say?" she asked herself. "Hello, Subaru, it's been a while?" She sighed again, sitting up and leaning forward so that her forehead rested on a bent knee. "Eight years is more than a while, Midori. He's probably moved on... has a wife and kids...." Some part of her rebelled at thinking of Subaru married and having other children. She didn't want that. But she didn't want to call him, either. She didn't want to hope and then have his wife or lover answer the telephone. "Midori..." she said softly, trying to tell herself to get used to it, to snap out of the midnight mood she found herself in. She'd felt like this before, like she had to call him, talk to him, just to hear his voice, just to know. She'd gotten past it, then. But it was stronger now. She had never dreamed of him as much, nor with such a sense of despair, as she did now. In her dreams, he never spoke, never looked at her. She couldn't quite remember the soft, rough tone his voice had held when he said her name. She couldn't quite see the shading of his emerald eyes when she took his attack. She was forgetting. Worse yet, her dreams didn't have the innocence of dreams. It seemed like she was losing him entirely when he disappeared from her mind's eye. It was more like a premonition than anything else. He would be up at this hour. He had always been a night owl, even before she met him. * * * Subaru started as the phone rang. He very seldom received calls at three in the morning. He continued stirring one of his attempts at cooking while reaching for the portable phone. "Hai, Sumeragi desu," he said, nestling the remote between his ear and shoulder as he reached for another ingredient that the recipe called for. "... Moshi moshi?" he asked after a few seconds as the person on the other end failed to speak. * * * Midori held her breath, afraid. Afraid to speak, afraid to not speak and be hung up on. She could hear soft music behind him, rock'n'roll played at a low volume. "Ah, hello," she finally said. "Is this the residence of Sumeragi Subaru?" "It is," Subaru replied, his soft voice comfortingly rough to her ear. "How may I help you?" Midori wondered to herself. "... Are you happy, Subaru?" she couldn't help but whisper. He was silent. "Are you happy... Subaru?" she whispered again. "... Midori...?" he asked quietly. "Are you..." "Midori?!" he demanded, cutting over her voice. "It is you, isn't it?" She could see him now, see his apartment. She didn't quite understand how... a spell of some sort, a magic of empathy...? She saw no touches of soft femininity, no pictures of a wife and family, nothing to indicate that he had lost his bachelor status. Nothing. And something being neglected on the stove that looked more than vaugely inedible. "You can't cook, at your age?" she couldn't help but criticize. "Maybe I should've stayed after all...." "It is you," he said. "Where are you, Midori? Do you need help?" "No, I'm fine," Midori replied quietly. "I just wanted to be sure... that you were all right." "It's been eight years," he said. "Eight years to the day, Midori. Is that why you were thinking of me? Is that why you called?" "You should've married by now, Subaru," said Midori, changing the subject. She couldn't tell him how often she thought of him--and especially that she thought of him every time she looked into the face of his son. "Why haven't you married?" "I never found anyone to suit me," he answered softly. "You're not married, either, are you? You wouldn't be calling me at three a.m. if you were." "It's been eight years, but I never found anyone better to me than you were." She laughed slightly, aware that her nervousness was showing a bit. "It's either a great compliment to you, or a pathetic reflection on my life. I'm married to my job, married to taking care of...." She cut herself off before she could finish the sentence. * * * "'Taking care of'...?" Subaru asked, hearing the sudden silence from Midori's end of the line. "Midori?" "I shouldn't have called," she said suddenly, softly. "I'm sorry, Subaru. Please forgive me." "Midori--!" A soft click, then a dialtone, answered his cry. Subaru slowly set the phone down, thinking. After eight years of silence, why had she suddenly called in the middle of the night? He pressed a button on his telephone, and wrote down the number that appeared on the digital display. There was no way he was letting her get away, not again. ***** Linguistics: "Hai, Sumeragi desu," would translate to "Hello, Sumeragi residence," in English. "Moshi moshi?" would be "Hello?".