Title: Through Their Eyes
Author: A Paper Moon
Pairing: Narumi Ayumu/Yuizaki Hiyono
Fandom: Spiral: Suiri no Kizuna
Theme: #9—dash (as in, a dash of fantasy :D)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: All characters of Spiral are the property of Kyou Shirodaira; I allege no possession of said characters. I only request to take them to over-rowdy soccer games and force them to play at gunpoint. Inspired by Hans Zimmer's piece entitled "You're So Cool." It's an instrumental and really adds to the story.
Listen if you can. c:
Summary: The imagination is truly a beautiful thing.

It's them, growing up! :)

-.-.-

They can be anything they want—that is the wonder behind the fantasies of a young child. On a blistering afternoon, they can be travelers fighting their way through the Mojave and on a chilled evening, they can be Eskimos hiding in the hills of the Andes. They can slay dragons and deal wits with pirates; they can fly across golden fields and swim to the depths of the world's oceans. They can dream they are racecar drivers in the Indi 500 or astronauts soaring to the dark side of the moon.

It's the splendor of the imagination.

It is something that the young Yuizaki Hiyono never takes for granted. Each afternoon, after school, she runs with her friends down the sidewalk to her home and each afternoon, she is someone else. Some days, she is a warrior princess clashing swords with her nemesis and others, she is an explorer who tames a wild mustang only to ride it across the barren wastelands of the Middle Americas, reuniting herself with her lost love.

And every afternoon such as this one, she sees a dark-haired boy, a grade behind her if she's not mistaken, who sits alone on the steps of his home and watches the children of the neighborhood run and giggle and have adventures.

So on this very day, she decides to have him join her.

"Sir," she calls, "have you seen my dragon?"

He looks quizzically at her before sighing and muttering, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"My dragon," she replies, her response cheerful and quickly morphing to take on a voice completely differing from her own.

"Dragons don't exist," he states matter-of-factly.

She scoffs at him and when two of her friends run by trying to catch her attention, she shoos them away. "Dragons are too real."

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh times infinity." She laughs and sticks out her pink tongue before wrapping her fuchsia-cotton scarf around her neck, the cool autumn afternoon kicking up a slight breeze.

"Whatever."

The wind ruffles his auburn hair and he quickly swipes it out of his eyes and across his forehead. His navy turtleneck keeps most of his body warm but his lack of gloves has his fingers turning a light shade of blue.

"Now, sir," she declares as she walks toward him, her hands on her hips, "you must help me find my dragon, Alfred. I don't know where he's gone and I'm worried."

The boy rolls his eyes and begins to ignore her. Now, she's a tad miffed. Why won't he play with her? She's had enough and runs to catch his wrist in her gloved hand.

"H-Hey!" he protests.

"We are going to find Alfred!"

"Let go of me you weirdo!"

"C'mon, before it gets dark and I have to go."

"No way!"

"Yes way! Now let's go!"

And soon, the boy finds himself being dragged off his front steps and down the sidewalk, the turning maple leaves fluttering down around them like a fiery snowfall.

Most of her friends have left so it's just her and the boy and soon, she's stopped moving, his body crashing into hers.

"What are you—?"

"Shh."

He peers over her head (funny that he's younger yet still taller) and spies a black lab trotting past a white picket fence. He yips at a passing squirrel and the girl whispers, "Shadow."

"Huh? Is that your doggy?"

She turns to eye him and shoots back, "Of course not. That's a Level Three Night Runner, only the scariest dragon in the entire world. He's my enemy."

"He's a dog."

"No, he's a dragon now c'mon." She's pulling him again as they duck behind the fence, the dog moving toward them at a diagonal angle.

"Hmm, I thought Alfred and me defeated him the other day but I s'pose not."

"You're crazy."

She laughs at his comment and opens her mouth to respond but is cut off when the dark canine starts barking at a ginger-colored cat. It hisses and runs across the fence at lightning speed, the girl's voice echoing behind it, "Alfred!"

"Alfred's your cat?"

"No, silly, he's my dragon. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"So you found your dra— Whatever, you found Alfred."

"Mmhmm, thanks to you."

He looks down at her and scoffs, "I didn't do anything."

"Yes you did," she beams. "You helped me find my dragon." And then she's off, scooping the cat (technically, dragon) into her arms, her hands around him as she ignores his hissing, demanding to be let free.

"Oh hush, Ally you old coot. We're going home." With that, she thanks the boy again and they're gone, her and the cat, down the road to a yellow house with black shutters and the front door closes. He's left alone and wondering.

"What a weirdo."

-.-.-

The next time they "play" together, they're thirteen and fourteen respectfully. They're in middle school and though most kids are "trying to grow up," she's still her imaginative self.

When her history teacher tells her to do a project about an important individual in time, she chooses to borrow her dad's video camera and film the reenactment of what she thinks is important: the meeting between Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Guess whose door she knocks on?

"What? Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"No way."

"What? Please? For me?"

"And why do you think I'd do it just 'cause you said 'For me?'"

"Because… Because we're friends."

"We are?"

"Yes."

"Um, no."

"Please."

"Not happening."

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"What are you, five?"

"No."

"Go away."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please, please, please, please, please, pl—!"

"Okay, fine! Just stop asking."

"Yay!"

Needless to say, she gets a B+; not bad for her first big project though her teacher tells her that the boy she had help her looks angrier than Mark Antony would have and that kissing him wasn't really necessary for the project.

When she goes back to watch it—her forcing her mouth on his, his face turning a bright red before pushing her back, his screaming at her and her laughing—it makes her feel warm and happy (even though Mark Antony and Cleopatra didn't have such a happy ending).

-.-.-

In high school, they are closer than they were in middle school yet they are still worlds apart. He's a member of the culinary club and she's a part of a writing club where they spin their own tales of fiction. They meet a few times in the library where they talk a bit as they look for books and it's on one late afternoon after most of the students and faculty members have let that they begin an adventure never before started.

"Hey," she greets as she walks by him down the aisle of romantic fiction. He follows her with his eyes as his fingers dart over spines of cook books, old and new alike.

Though he doesn't like to admit it, he likes the way she's grown up; there's something about how her figure has begun to fill out and yet how her eyes remain the same, full of light and hope. He just likes the way she is.

"So…" he hears her draw out.

"So—?"

"How have you been?"

He shrugs, "Alright I guess."

"Good."

There's silence again and he wishes she would approach him like she used to. He liked how outspoken she used to be (though he never really admitted it before) and he hopes that she'll return to that social personality again.

He's browsing through books from Child to Pépin to Puck and his mind is beginning to wander. And then, she's suddenly behind him and he can feel her warmth at his back. He wants to turn around, oh how he wants to, but he doesn't want to break the stillness between them.

Her words are soft as she begins, "Let's pretend, for a moment, that we're not us."

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm."

"Who are we?"

"You're Romeo and I'm Juliet."

Ah, he knows that she's been reading Shakespeare lately; that would explain the way she's been phrasing her prose.

"Are we?"

"Yes and guess what else?"

He bites, "What?"

"We're alone." Her voice is hard to hear but beneath the sound of her rapidly beating heart and his heavier-than-normal breathing, he can just make out her hushed words.

"Are we?"

"Mmhmm. Our parents are gone and we are nothing but star-crossed lovers, nonexistent to the world."

"Well," he chuckles, "that's convenient."

She hums a response and then all is quiet. He makes to turn round but is stopped by two hands on the either side of his face. His body is angled toward her, his head just turning to meet her gaze but he is stopped completely by her hands.

"What are you—?"

She shushes him and suddenly, he can't see a thing; her fingers have moved to cover his eyelids and he can sense a soft exhale of breath and his nose picks up the faint smell of mint. Then, it's all the sensation of touch from there on out.

Her lips are soft, as he would have expected and her fingers are cold (probably because the silly teachers thought it wise to cut back on the school's energy bill and turn down the thermostat) and the feeling of her chilled fingertips against his flushed face sends shivers down his spine. She moves the pads of her thumbs over his eyelids and yet he refuses to open them.

He'd rather leave the fantasy a thing of reality and pretend, for just a moment, they are two lovers who are sinning against all things law of their time.

It's a bit exhilarating, he thinks.

-.-.-

They separate awhile after high school, but a sudden, serendipitous encounter at a coffee shop brings back the emotions of their teenaged years.

She's older looking (obviously) and yet, she manages to retain that appearance of fresh youth. Her eyes are still alit with a warm glow by there are thin lines forming around the corners beneath her brows, probably from smiling too much. He finds them strikingly attractive.

He, on the other hand, looks no older than he did as a rebellious youth and she wonders if no one has stayed around to make him laugh. Mentally, she notes that she must fix that.

With latte in hand, she turns to leave and their shoulders brush. There's an intake of breath and she goes to apologize but when their gazes meet, there is silence. His mouth opens, closes, opens, and then settles on closing.

They both know what the other wants to say and yet no words are uttered. Silently, they walk out, side by side, to an urban park where they share more moments of peace. (He's sure he hears the barista yelling after him but he can't be bothered to care. Sure, give the next guy in line his Americano.)

They imagine themselves as husband and wife (or at least fiancé and fiancée respectfully) and it's five weeks later that their dreams become actuality.

-.-.-

Two years into their blissful union, there is a third member to which they introduce to wonders of the imagination. They teach the little one of epic heroes, mythical creatures, and tales lost to history and oral tradition. As their small child grows and is joined by a sibling, they continue to share the gift of the unknown. They pass the time with games of "Make Believe" and though he isn't as willing to fill their children's heads with nonsense, her husband is all for the playtime.

Some evenings, they make intricate and miraculous forts from dining room chairs and extra bed sheets and the young man will often hold his wife captive for their tots to come rescue her. Other nights, they pretend they are elves of a whimsical realm and must find a way to defeat the Dark Master before he can take over the world and rid the human's of their "tasty treats and sugary sweets."

As their young one's grow and become young adults of their own, the two never stop imagining the most mystical of things.

When they are alone, they play games all their own and fantasize themselves explorers of deep forests (or in most cases, their home and bedroom) while other times, they venture out into the city and pretend to be secret agents on the run from a criminal syndicate.

As they age, their mental state stays the same as it always was: young and free.

-.-.-

With their children gone and with families of their own, the two find ways to occupy themselves. As the end of their lives dawns closer and closer, they imagine that they are preparing to undertake upon the most grand adventure of all time.

Their hair turns quickly and their skin loses its once youthful glow but, their minds are still sharp and their eyes are always alert and quizzical.

As the sun sets on a warm, summer's eve, he can feel her grip on his hand beginning to become lax. They are perched on their wooden swing, their bodies soaking in the luminously fading sun. Their faces are basked in the light and when he turns to watch her, he can see every wrinkle (to him, every laugh and smile) illuminated. Her eyes, still gentle and yet sparking with something he'll never understand, are glued to the horizon.

"I love you," he whispers for the unteempth time in their shared life. She smiles and returns the feelings.

She's growing tired and can tell it's about time to head on to the next stage of their great journey.

He looks at her and he knows.

"Wait for me, okay?"

She nods.

"Let's pretend," she mutters, "that we are trekking into an unknown world. We know no one and nothing but the facts that it will be the most beautiful place ever seen by man."

"Agreed."

"We shall see things never seen before, discover things never though to be discoverable, and…" she trails off.

He's quick to pick up the thought, "And we will do it together."

She leans over, her motions gentle and serene, and kisses the corner of his mouth before dropping her head on his shoulder.

"Don't keep me waiting long," she warns.

They share a soft laugh and then she is gone. He watches her close her eyes and smile, her face forever in a tranquil state. He knows not sadness or anguish; he will be joining her shortly.

He takes one final look at the expanding horizon, the sun's crest dipping behind the fields that they have moved to. The city never sat well with them in their older age—they preferred making adventures in the untamed wilderness.

He kisses his wife's temple, forever more than grateful to have found her on that autumn afternoon when she forcefully had him help her find her "dragon." His love, his light is waiting for him on the other side and with and small smile, he slips into the strange and unfamiliar world of things unknown.

Their hands are clasped together in a loose hold and they pretend, just for a while, that they are being transported to a world unlike any they've ever encountered before.

It's a beautiful, wondrous thing and, as the sun sets for the final time, they are truly happy in their world of fantasy and make believe, just as they were in their place of facts and reality.

A bit longer than the other ones (finally :D) and a tad bittersweet. I know I was going to stay away of stories that involved deaths but this had a good way of wrapping up (from childhood to growing old together). Please share your thoughts with me. Thanks. c: