Liberties

I

There were not many perks anyone could actually find in a mining town. Especially not in one whose mines didn't even produce much gold, if any at all. Winters were long, springs barely a whisper, and summers lasted in a span of two heartbeats.

In other words, this small mining town had been perfect for Pazu. Since work had always been slow, he had enough time to play his little trumpet in the mornings, fiddle with his project of an airplane in the afternoons, and man the boilers and lifts in the mine shafts in the evenings. Life had been monotonous.

That was until after she came along. And his whole world had been turned upside-down.

Not that it had been a bad thing. The arrival of Sheeta in his life had marked a great milestone for him. He had always clung onto the dream of finding answers to the mystery of a certain floating island. It hadn't been those kinds of dreams where people would drop everything they had just to pursue it. No, Pazu had been more than willing to take his time. He liked playing his trumpet in the mornings, after all. And he liked the slow nights in the mines. And he was most certainly enjoying his time building his airplane.

And he guessed the opportunity came by a little too early than he had expected when Sheeta appeared. He had been overwhelmed at first. It wasn't everyday princesses from a long-since extinct race floated down into your arms in your night shift. It didn't hurt, the fact that said princess was pretty and kind and carried around a necklace that served as the key to riches and power no man could even dare to dream about.

And coming from a boy who had lived all his life in a boring old mining town, it was only normal to feel some kind of connection to the girl who he had faced a life-or-death situation with. Situations which involved a rowdy bunch of pirates, the military, a crazy dude wearing weird glasses and diving into storms to reach a floating island with weird animals in it.

Damn it. He wasn't even able to enjoy the fact that he had been able to prove to himself that his father was not, at all, a liar. And that was all because he had been busy saving the world from a madman.

And busy protecting the girl who smelled like wildflowers every time he hugged her to him.

Yes, he had taken liberties. She hadn't complained. He had hugged her when he rescued her from Mushka. She had cried in his shoulder. They had shared a blanket in the night during his watch, and she had had her thin arms around his waist most of the time during the rough ride. They had celebrated with an embrace the moment they landed on the floating island. He had twirled her in the air, as if she weighed nothing, and they had rolled on the grass like childhood friends out for a picnic. He had been thirteen then. She, twelve.

And thirteen-year-old boys didn't know that they were taking liberties when they were taking liberties. All he knew then was that she smelled nice, and that she was soft and light and her laugh sounded like tiny birds in his ear.

After Laputa had floated off into the stratosphere, he had kept his promise to her. He had taken her home to her place in Gondoa. And she had been happy. They found out that the neighbor next door, an old lady Sheeta had called by the name Mrs. Bethwyn, had taken care of Sheeta's oxen for her.

The house was made of mortar and brick, with wood and straw for a roof. Sheeta had settled in quickly, starting a fire in the old hearth, where Pazu noticed immediately the emblem of Laputa. He didn't mention anything about it, but quietly accepted the tea she had prepared for him.

Of course, Pazu had his own responsibilities. And so after promising Sheeta that he would visit her often, he had set off to return to his own home. Sheeta had given him a lingering gaze, but nonetheless nodded and smiled at him, telling him to be careful on his way.

At fourteen, the quiet, slow mining town Pazu had grown to love had started to change. For one, the government had baptized the town with a new name, Volucia, derived from the name Volucite, the mineral that was abundant within the mines of the town. And perhaps this was the reason behind the change. After the events that happened concerning the discovery of Laputa, it wasn't long till everyone added two and two together: that Volucite was a rare mineral that had a direct relation with the floating island.

Work was never slow ever since. Pazu's visits to Gondoa were limited to once a month when the demand for Volucite rose dramatically. Sheeta understood. And Pazu didn't know how to take her passiveness. Once a month, he would travel north towards Gondoa, which was a good day away by horse, carrying with him a bag full of books he thought would interest Sheeta. And they would spend the following day out in the valley, under a birch tree, where they would lay on a blanket, munching on flat bread and apples, and Sheeta would read to him quietly as he would settle his head on her lap until he fell asleep.

Those were the days when Pazu would wish that time would just stand still, and so he could just lay there on Sheeta's lap as she read to him. Saying goodbye was always hard for him, because Sheeta would always make that face. Her brows would knit, and she would bite her lower lip anxiously. There had been times when Pazu thought that she would stop him from leaving, and a part of him had actually hoped she would. Of course, she never said a thing, because Sheeta was Sheeta, and she had always preferred keeping things to herself. Instead, she would reach up at him – he had grown several inches taller than her in the last year – and twirl her arms around his neck for an embrace. And she would whisper in his ear, "I enjoyed your visit. Be careful on your way back."

And those goodbyes always left a weird, unexplainable inkling within Pazu that he had never been able to define. And he would spend a full day returning to Volucia, wondering over and over again what it could be.

At fifteen, strange men came to Pazu's house. They called themselves 'scholars'. Pazu didn't know what that meant. Oh, he knew what scholars were, but he just didn't understand why they were visiting his house.

Scholars, he knew, were very smart people who studied many things for reasons Pazu could never even dare comprehend. Pazu knew that he wasn't that smart. There were things that he knew needed to be explained to him two or three times before he got it through his thick head. But the scholars who came to see him were blunt and to-the-point; they wanted his father's research. After all these years of those people calling his father a liar, Pazu didn't know if he should be happy, or furious.

He had been playing his trumpet, on top of his roof and feeding his pigeons when they arrived. There were three of them, all dressed in fancy robes and wearing fancy hats and fancy shoes. They looked very out of place in a mining town, where everyone wore worn-out trousers and fleece and roughly knit mufflers to protect them from the cold.

And because Pazu was normally a very polite guy, he had jumped down from his roof, abandoning his trumpet behind to greet them a good morning.

They offered him money. They offered him lots and lots of money in exchange for his father's journal and that photograph of Laputa that hung from the east wall of his little house. They said it was the only existing photo of the floating island that human kind had ever been able to obtain. They were offering him riches in exchange for the only remembrance he's always had from his father.

He didn't even have to think twice. He had refused politely. They had been greatly disappointed, and left empty-handed. They had tried to harass Pazu in any way they thought they could, though. They would wait for him outside his house, demanding that he share his father's discovery. They would ambush him at work, hiding within dark alleys and pressing the same thing.

When his boss found out about it, he had been livid. It took one swing of a right hook from the boss to drive them away, threatening them by saying, "If you ever bother my boy again, you'll lose more than your front teeth. Don't take us miners lightly!"

And that had been that from the scholars.

The next time he visited Sheeta, he told her about what had happened. She had clung onto him tightly without saying anything for a good half hour, her face buried in his chest. After that, she wouldn't let him leave. And once again, a part of him wanted very badly to stay. In his mind, he actually started thinking of what he could do if he stayed with her. He imagined him working in the stables with her animals and plowing the wheat fields behind her house while she managed the household chores and cooked them meals.

He had considered that as they lay on that blanket in her field, right under that birch tree. But in the end, he knew that deep down he was not a farmer. He was a miner who loved his pigeons and his trumpet and his airplane and the people back in Volucia. And so after an extended vacation with Sheeta, he had set off with a heavy heart back to his home, all the while bothered that Sheeta had looked at him with an expression he couldn't decipher because he was just too… Pazu… to realize what she wanted from him.

At sixteen, Pazu received his first love confession. Her name was Anwen, and she was the fifteen-year-old daughter of the town baker. She had very fair skin, long, golden hair and big, green eyes that always seemed like they were about to cry. Pazu had never really thought of her aside from being Anwen, the town baker's daughter, although he had been fairly aware that she was one of the prettiest girls in town, and men from neighbouring villages even went out of their way just to see her.

Pazu always saw her behind the counter of the bakery whenever the boss would ask him to run for their dinner. He would order the usual wholemeal bread with a bit of margarine, and she would be handing him his order in a brown paper bag, her face red and her eyes set on anything but Pazu's face. He should have realized that she liked him; for some weird reason, there would always be a slice of blueberry pie that he couldn't remember ordering, with an unsigned note saying, 'For you'.

Unfortunately, Pazu was never quick on catching up with those things, and a few days before Christmas, he found himself cornered by her in the alley between the apothecary and the wine shop, and her blurting out, "I've always liked you! Please go out with me!" or something of the like, because Pazu couldn't really remember her exact words, and Anwen had been close to hyperventilating.

Pazu had never, ever been confessed to. Ever. He had never thought himself to be attractive. Compared to the other boys who worked for engineers inside offices holding nothing more than a quill pen and some ink, he was more used to wielding a pickaxe or a wrench. And he would always have a smudge of coal on his face, and the only clothes he's ever thought of wearing were those that he didn't care even if they ripped. Aside from the fact that he was just too busy to think about such things, he was not even sure what 'liking' someone meant. Was it the same as liking sunny-side-up eggs on bread? Or liking watching the sunset before going to work? Or standing on the highest parapet of his house to look out into his valley and daydream?

Or liking grey eyes set on a tiny face untouched by make-up, dark-brown hair falling past tiny shoulders, and a connection that he believed no one in this world could ever hold a candle to in a hundred, thousand years.

And it was that same night that Pazu received his first ever love confession did he get to turn down a girl for the very first time. Because at that same night did he realize what the nagging feeling in his heart whenever he was with Sheeta meant.

It meant that sixteen-year-old boys were not like thirteen-year-old boys who could take liberties any more, randomly hugging girls while saving their lives in the process. He had come to that age when they had to define everything – every single thing – in detail, because this was how kids who were turning into adults did it.

He supposed that was how things happened. Once, he had seen it in some play held in the town square where the heroine was a very pretty lady with long, flowing raven-black locks and the hero was a dashing prince with an ash-blond head of hair and a pair of dimples the women in the audience swooned over.

The prince had offered her his kingdom and made a very long speech about the heroine's beauty and how she had captured his heart. While Pazu knew that he was never really articulate and could never see himself making such a grand speech, he had come so far as realizing one thing: He was already sixteen, and that he was in love with a girl who had practically descended from royalty. And that he had absolutely nothing to offer her.

The hero in that play offered his kingdom. Pazu didn't have a kingdom. All he had was a trumpet, some pigeons and an unfinished airplane that would probably remain unfinished because deep down inside he knew that he had given up in building it because he had already cleared his father's name and that Laputa was now somewhere no airplane could ever reach.

And he didn't know if Sheeta would want a trumpet, or pigeons, or an unfinished airplane.

And that was what worried Pazu the most.

Around the end of the Grass-Cutting Season, Pazu did not know what came over him when he thought of getting Sheeta a gift. He thought that commemorating the third year anniversary of the day they met was necessary, and he got her a hair ornament, because her hair had finally gotten longer, and she'd developed the habit of sweeping it to the side over one shoulder.

The hair ornament was something Pazu had found sitting behind the window of the jewellery shop in town. It had blue stones on it, reminding Pazu of her necklace, and he had to dish out a few extra coins from his savings to get it. He had been quite proud of himself as he asked the kind lady behind the counter to wrap it for him in a simple white cloth. She was even kind enough to tie it up with a pretty blue ribbon for free.

Pazu had been in good spirits when he was packing his travel things for a visit to Sheeta's place, carefully placing the gift inside his satchel so that he could easily take it out and give it to her immediately. Everything was perfect. He had fed his pigeons, made sure the gas tap was closed in his house and had dropped by his boss' place to tell him that he was setting off for Gondoa.

Everything fell apart when he passed by the square and found out something big was happening.

Elyan, the eighteen-year old son of the blacksmith, was down on his knees in front of the fountain, in his outstretched hand was a tiny black box with a gold ring in it. Standing still and very, very emotional right in front of him was his childhood friend, Lyn, who had both her hands pressed against her tear-stained face. The people around them were cheering and clapping, and Pazu could see Elyan's father and mother clapping along with the crowd. Beside them, he could see Lyn's brothers and sisters lined up, like Lyn, all teary-eyed and weeping.

It was a marriage proposal. And Pazu could never forget how Elyan's speech had gone that day, because that was what finally drove the last nail in the coffin. Elyan had said, "I couldn't even imagine living my life if you're not in it. I swear I'll make you the happiest girl in the world. I only have my house to offer, my family's business. It's not much but it should be enough to give you a comfortable life. My parents love you. I love you. You're my other half, and if I can't have you, then life would just lose all meaning to me. Marry me."

Of course, Lyn said yes. Pazu knew she would. He had seen them all the time, sharing a meat bun after Elyan's work. Sometimes they would be walking the streets on Volucia, holding hands and whispering into each others' ear lovingly. They were perfect for each other. And Pazu was sincerely happy for them.

But it had gotten him thinking that he was almost at that age when he was no longer a child, and he was starting to realize that yes, the feelings he had for Sheeta were something that came close to the feelings Elyan had for Lyn.

Pazu was in love with Sheeta.

And all of a sudden, the hair ornament he had preciously wrapped in white cloth and blue ribbons seemed so petty compared to a gold ring, or a family business and a house. He had no riches, and he had no family that would welcome Sheeta with open arms, unlike Elyan's.

And because of that, Pazu suddenly felt quite ashamed of himself. Sheeta had never demanded anything from him, and he knew that she was not that kind of girl who would desire earthly things, but still… he wished there was more he could offer.

He couldn't really believe how such happy events like a marriage proposal could cause a boy to lose so much self-esteem. He went home that same day, unpacked his things and silently slipped the hair ornament into a drawer in his workshop. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to see Sheeta with merely just that as a gift.

There was something more he could offer. Something bigger. Something better. Something worth a fortune.

And before autumn came to Volucia, it was great timing when the Scholars came to him once more. And he was more than eager to jump at the offer.

He sold his father's photograph of the island for a bags and bags of gold that could be more than enough to last him a lifetime.

Pazu never told Sheeta anything about him selling his father's photograph. He had been busy with cooperating with the scholars on their research about the floating island, how things were before, how things came to be. At seventeen, Pazu became famous almost overnight. His picture would be in newspapers all over the neighboring towns. Not long after, his name started appearing in educational books, that he was the son of the man who contributed to the research about the floating island, Laputa, and was in fact one of the very few survivors who had stepped on Laputa grounds and lived to tell about it.

The fame was overwhelming. And it was probably one of the biggest mistakes he had ever done, and it wasn't until Dola came knocking on his door, looking all grand and frilly in a blue dress, her hands adorned with many, many heavy-looking rings. It had been almost four years since he had seen her. She hadn't changed, except that maybe there were more wrinkles on her face. A bit plumper since the last time he saw her on that day Laputa flew away further into the sky. He knew that it was probably because she had given up being a pirate and retired with the riches she was able to get away with after that final battle.

She was not as happy to see him as he was to see her.

"What you up to, boy?" she asked him, peering up at him from behind those round glasses of hers.

"It's nice to see you, too, Dola. How have you been?" he asked her as he stepped aside to let her pass through. He was in the middle of getting ready for work, and all he had on were ripped trousers and a shirt that had seen better days. "It's been forever since we last saw each other. How are your sons?"

Dola took her time in sizing him up. He had grown a good head and shoulders taller than her, and it was still quite unnerving that he had to look down on her just to meet her eye.

"Looks like you filled out pretty good, boy. Been workin' out?" She started to poke at his arm with a gnarled finger, ignoring his diplomatic questions altogether.

Pazu tried to brush her hand away, a bit embarrassed. "Hard labor does this to you."

That statement amused her. She stood back, crossing her arms under that very big bosom of hers and raised an eyebrow. "Hard labor? You been workin'?"

"I'm a miner. I've always been one. Anyway wha – hey!" Pazu yelled out in shock when Dola pounced on him, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it up to his chin. "What the – ? What do you think you're doing?" He pushed his shirt down and backed away from her a few feet, feeling very violated.

Dola burst out laughing, strong and loud. Pazu could never forget Dola's laugh. She always did so when she liked what she was hearing. "Well, you certainly have the rock-hard abs to be a miner." She cut her laughter abruptly, narrowing her eyes at him. "But I been hearin' different things about you. I look around town and see fliers of your face everywhere I turn, sayin' you're the son of some big-shot guy who's changin' world history books everywhere. And then I see your name, and I say to myself, 'Nah, that can't be my boy, Pazu. That boy'd rather die than want all that attention. Because, he'd rather have a quiet life with my little girl, Sheeta, because he'd do anythin' for her, even if it meant givin' up his very own life.'"

Pazu opened his mouth to retaliate, and he was not surprised when he found himself at a loss for words. He knew that his lifestyle had changed a bit. He was starting to get a lot of attention, and along with it, a lot of money. All of this was because of Sheeta. For Sheeta. He did not know why he had to take this from a woman he had not seen in over four years.

"I don't know what it is that suddenly made you come see me. I don't even think I have anything to explain anything to you, but I'd have you know that I plan on asking Sheeta to marry me once things settle down." Pazu straightened his shirt, tucking it into his trousers self-consciously. It was the first time he had actually told anyone out loud about his plans for Sheeta. He had no idea that it would be this embarrassing to put into words, his feelings.

Dola was watching him intently. She was not laughing now. After a long moment of silence, she said, "You want to marry her? You want to tell her you love her with a bang, boy? You thinkin' havin' all the gold you could get your hands on would make her happy?" She took a step towards him, close enough so that Pazu could see the finest lines she had on her face. "Tell me, boy. How long has it been since you've last visited my little girl?"

Another question that made Pazu pause. Dola being but a few inches away from him was making things even harder for him. He looked away, scratching his head weakly. "Uhm… over five months, six months?"

Dola grabbed him by the collar, bringing his face closer to hers, the tip of her long nose touching his. "And you call yourself a man. You nothin' but a boy pretendin' to be a man, little boy. You leave a girl pinin' away for you for half a year while you try to get your grubby paws on some gold out there by ridin' on your daddy's coattails. And then you stand here in front of me, sayin' you love her?" She sneered. "You'd have given that girl weeds, and she'd be cryin' her eyes out because they be from you! That girl don't need your gold! She don't care about bein' rich! She wants you! I love her like my own, and if I be any better, I'd convince her you ain't good enough for her."

She let go of Pazu's shirt and pushed him back. He felt his hip hit the side of his table, but he could barely feel the pain.

Right now, his face was burning, and all at once the world around him began crashing down. The walls of expectations he had built around himself started crumbling, piece by piece. Dola was right. Sheeta never asked for anything from him. Except for one thing.

She had asked him to stay.

And after all this time, he had always thought that she wanted – needed – something else. He visited her only to lie down on a stupid blanket under a stupid birch tree only to leave the next day. And each and every time, she would cling onto him tight, sometimes not saying anything, sometimes putting her feelings into words. But never once did she even hint on wanting anything more.

Pazu had been stupid. He grabbed the coat hanging by a peg on his wall. He shrugged it on, looked around for his hat.

"Where you goin'?" Dola asked, and Pazu didn't miss the satisfied smile she had on her face.

Pazu swept past her, pushed away a few unfolded clothes on the corner rack, searching for his missing hat. "To Sheeta. You're right, Dola. I don't deserve her. She's too pretty, too nice. She's perfect. While here I am, making a fool of myself, thinking she'd be impressed by things that don't even matter to her." He finally found what he was looking for and crammed it on his head. He paused for a moment, then turned to Dola. "Do you think it's too late? Do you think she'll forgive me?"

Dola was laughing now. Laughing that loud laugh of hers. "That girl don't have a single bad bone in her body. You go to her and get on your hands and knees and beg her to have you. Kiss her feet if you have to. I don't care what you do, but you goin' to do it the right way." She fished into her pocket and tossed a key at him.

Pazu caught it in mid-air. He knew what it was for. He nodded at Dola in understanding before pulling open the drawer where he put the present he got for Sheeta. It felt small in his hands, and the cloth smooth against his palm. It felt right. Just right.

He stuffed it in his pocket, gripped Dola's shoulder firmly before disappearing out the door of his home.

Tonight was the night he was going to prove to Sheeta – and to himself at well – that he was no longer a thirteen year old boy who simply took liberties on her.

Tonight, everything was going to change.

He just hoped he wasn't too late.

A/N: I'm a Miyazaki Hayao fan. The first anime movie that I watched from him was Laputa, and for some weird reason, I watched it again last night. Aside from the nostalgia, I asked myself what Pazu and Sheeta would be doing after the movie, and this fic just came to be. It will be a two-shot.

Anyway, let me fangirl about Pazu, because I think he is a very manly man, considering he was just thirteen in the movie. It's not everyday you meet a boy who'd be willing to fly around to search the skies with you, and who'd risk their lives by hanging from old tree roots of an ancient floating island. So yeah, I think Pazu's The Man. If you disagree with me, go watch the movie again. Just… watch it. Again. So that you can see Pazu being a man. XD

Till next update!