Chapter 1: In Which we Meet Shion-A Nice Boy from Boring Nowhere

Taking a year away from his studies made Shion nervous, probably irrationally so. It felt like he was abandoning something; his education, his friends, his mother, his responsibilities, his home. Collapsing on his bed, Shion let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes. What was it that Safu said yesterday? They were sitting outside together, lounging away the afternoon on the swings near Safu's apartment complex.

"I don't think I want to do this," Shion murmured to the ground. "I don't think I can go on my own."

"Why?" Safu asked, dragging her toes across the gravel below the swing set. "You're seventeen, you've always been in the gifted program you're smart…"

"And I know nothing about the rest of the world outside of Nox. Not personally, anyway," Shion argued, rubbing his hands nervously up and down the swing's chains, noting the cool feel of the metal against his sweaty palms.

"So? It'll be a good learning experience for you," Safu noted.

"You don't throw an infant into a lake to see if it can swim," Shion retorted, tightening his grip on the steel links.

"It's a good thing you aren't an infant then," Safu pointed out, crunching the small stones beneath her shoes. "I'm not going to let you back out now. You've already bought your ticket and everything. If you aren't on that plane on Monday morning, I will come to your house and murder you. I know how to make it look like an accident."

Sighing, Shion opened his eyes—his distressed surroundings pulling him back into the present. Logically, he knew Safu was right; Shion wasn't helpless, and he'd already spent the money of a plane ticket. Shion's mother put some of her savings into a card and an international phone plan so Shion could access money and call home while he was away. Leaving didn't mean saying goodbye and never coming back to Nox. Everything in his life seemed to be holding its breath, gesturing him forward.

So why, the night before his 9am flight, was he still sitting on his bed beside an unpacked suitcase? It was all wrong.

Shion's room was generally immaculate—it could have put a surgical ward to shame. One could expect to see the closet organized by clothing type and color, the floors spotless, and the bed made as though an interior designer were showcasing the space. Even having his pens out of order in their cup on his desk filled him with prickling irritation.

Now, there were clothes dressing the carpet handsomely in a rainbow of blazers and ties, while cat vomit hugged the rest of the floor in a brown gooey mass. Shion lay amongst a nest of sheets sprawled out over the bed. He reeked of three days' worth of sweat; a scent like that of a decaying corpse gripping his body. The clothes he'd worn for that long sagged away from him as if trying to escape from the smell.

Surveying the chaos, Shion felt an odd mixture of panic and indifference. The sheer disorder of the room overwhelmed him into a state of apathy. There were just so many things wrong that he couldn't bring himself to clean any of it up.

He wanted to cancel. It wasn't illegal to rip up one's boarding pass and not show up to a flight—some needy waitlisted passenger might actually appreciate the open seat. Eyeing the slip of paper that read "London", he contemplated the choice before him. Just like everything else for the past few days, though, he found he couldn't act on the impulse.

What was wrong with him? Shion had never been particularly good at making spur-of-the moment decisions, preferring to carefully calculate his actions before performing them. Yet here he sat, at a loss for what to do next. He hadn't booked a single hostel. He hadn't figured out transportation from country to country. He hadn't planned any sightseeing or travels to specific landmarks. It was completely out of character and stupid and…

Reckless. It was utter recklessness driving Shion's actions, and it was so unlike him that the boy himself couldn't believe it for a second. He'd never been reckless before in his life, save for the time he ditched school because Safu's grandmother died and she had a bit of an emotional upheaval. Shion's own actions seemed foreign to him, as if a sadistic puppeteer were choreographing his movements.

Still, there was something innately desirable about the prospect of adventure. The idea of venturing into the unknown scared the living bageezums out of him, but beneath the initial terror something else clenched his heart. If Shion had to name that feeling, he would probably have called it excitement. What he was doing was so different than his entire life leading up to that point. It was time for a change, he decided resolutely. No more waiting on the sidelines, no more sitting around Nox waiting for life to happen. If he wanted life, he would have to go out there and chase it.

Within the hour, his suitcase was filled with everything he needed (he knew because he'd literally combed through the entire house twice to make certain he hadn't missed anything), his room was tidy, and he was freshly showered. Flopping down on the sheets that smelled newly of lavender and comfort, Shion stared up at the ceiling with a sigh. Despite his newfound resolve, the idea of going out there on his own and leaving everything he knew behind wasn't something he enjoyed. He couldn't sleep, so he decided to get up and busy himself.

Every horrible scenario filled his head as he obsessively packed, unpacked, and repacked his suitcase over and over again. He would get kidnapped in England, robbed in France, mugged in Italy, lost forever in Spain, and retract some horrible foreign illness in Germany.

The odd thing was, he didn't usually obsess himself into a stream of paranoia. He was compulsive and anal retentive, he admitted that much, but obsessive? Not usually, at least not to this extent. He needed to do something to clear his head or he thought he might burst. His thoughts chased themselves in circles through his mind, interrupted only by something banging against his windows.

Shion sat up. How long had it been storming outside? A violent wind howled relentlessly against the flexible glass of Shion's windows. The glass bent to its will, bowing inward as the gale pressed hard against it. Shion flung them wide, inviting the desperate air into his room. Whipping his clothes about him, the wind danced with him, caressing his body, his hands, his face. There was something wonderful in the wind that night, something Shion found alluring and otherworldly. As the storm raged outside of him, the storm inside of him quieted slightly.

There was something inexplicable in the air as Shion lost himself to its gentle touch. A soothing stream of thoughts—hopeful thoughts about the experiences and adventures he would have, about all the things he might learn and grow from—evicted the worries inside his mind, even as he shut the windows. These thoughts cradled him, soothing him at last to sleep.

"Are you sure you have everything?" Shion's mother asked, serving him a stack of his favorite blueberry pancakes. They were golden-brown and drenched in an unnecessary amount of syrup. It was a parting gift.

"Pretty sure," Shion mumbled through a delicious mouthful of his mother's homemade batter.

"Just pretty sure?" Karan stressed, brow furrowed.

"It—I was being facetious, mother."

"Well, don't worry me. You're going away for a whole year. I don't know why I even agreed to this in the first place."

"Because I'm an adult now?"

"Yes, well, you've never even been outside the city. Do you have your wallet?"

"Wallet, passport, atlas, half my closet, and enough toiletries for a small country, mother."

"Good, good," Karan said, seating herself across from her son and starting in on her own breakfast.

It suddenly hit Shion that this was the last time he would enjoy his mother's cooking for a very long time. He'd grown up on her sweets; honestly it was a wonder he wasn't obese. Although though Shion stuffed himself four of those plate-sized pancakes he felt an inexplicable emptiness in his stomach when they were gone.

Shion could tell his mother was as nervous as he was. She sat there tapping her feet on the linoleum of the dining room, drumming her fingers on the table between bites. He couldn't really blame her, either. After all, Shion's entire life had been based in this bustling Japanese city; the only bits of information he held about the outside world were from books and TV shows. That, however, was what had driven him to kind of plan this trip in the first place.

After finishing off the last crumbs of his breakfast, Shion spent a considerable amount of time in the bathroom preparing himself for his trip. Studying his face, he debated how much of his appearance to conceal on his trip. Normally, a small touch of makeup over the red snake of a scar, just on his face and neck, satisfied him.

Shion leaned forward, prodding the sensitive red mark on his cheek disapprovingly. Couples with his disturbingly maroon eyes and Yeti-like tuft of white hair, the sight of Shion was frightening. How on earth Safu could think anyone would find these "exotic" features attractive was beyond him. In any case, his appearance would certainly invite unwanted questions, which he certainly didn't want as he traveled abroad alone.

He'd already packed his extensive collection of beanies away, so it took himself several minutes of careful rummaging to not disturb the meticulously folded contents inside. Finally, he pulled out a sapphire woven cap that Safu's grandmother had made for him many years ago. Tucking as much of the unruly hairs underneath the beanie as he could manage, Shion studied himself again. It was all as normal as he would get it—save for the eyes, but there was nothing to be done there. With a grim, excited resolution, Shion hoisted his bag onto its wheels and clattered his way clumsily downstairs.

His mother had talked him through how to check his bags and board the airline over ten times, but that didn't stop her from going over it one more time as they were driving to the airport. Knowing that it was her way of comforting herself, he listened patiently and obediently repeated all of the things she'd told him. Though she wasn't supposed to, she got out of the car when they pulled up to the curb designated for departures.

They shared a long embrace, Shion relishing in the mix of flowery perfume and freshly baked bread that made Karan's smell so comforting to Shion. A few wet drops fell from Shion's eyes without his consent, spattering on the concrete like raindrops. A few sniffles told him that he wasn't the only one crying, either.

"Promise to write?" Karan demanded, still holding her son close. "And you can text. I don't mind paying the extra fee for it."

"Of course, mother," Shion promised, allowing Karan to continue her hold.

"If I don't get a letter at least once a week, I'll worry."

"I know. I'll make sure to write."

"And call. Like I said, extra fees—"

"I know. I love you, Mother."

"I love you, Shion."

When Karan finally let go, her eyes were suspiciously dry: Shion wondered if that's why she'd held onto him for so long. Giving him a wistful smile—forced, Shion noted guiltily—she waved him off as Shion dragged his suitcase out of sight and into the tangled unknown mass of strangers going on their own adventures.

Somehow, despite all of his mother's preparation, he still managed to get lost in the vast expanses of the airport. Three separate times he stepped out of whatever crowd he was following to ask anyone looking official enough where to go next. Glad that he'd given himself ample time to blunder, Shion somehow managed to find the way to his gate: an enormous sign hanging above it with the words Japanese Air scrawled in neat type across it. The only possessions he carried on his person were a camera, a phone, his passport, a small atlas, and his wallet. Everything else was being loaded up in the cargo bay of the enormous airliner already waiting outside on the tarmac.

There was no turning back now. Still, with the city rising grandly in the distance, all flashing lights and skyscrapers stretching their weary hands to the heavens, Shion felt at peace. He'd finally left. Sitting down, waiting for his section to be called to board, Shion knew with absolute certainty that he was where he was supposed to be. It was new, exciting, daring, and he hoped beyond hope that he would be able to lose himself in whatever lay under that big blue sky beyond the waters of the East Sea.

And he hoped that he would find himself before he returned.