Ring of Fate

"Be still, sad heart, and ceased repining; Behind the clouds the sun was shining; Thy fate was the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall; Some days must be dark and dreary…"

Human always wondered about fate. The meaning of fate, the mystery of fate, or just how the fate worked. For one, I believed, until the end of time, humans would never stop wondering about fate, including me. I always wanted to know, what the actual meaning of fate was, and I happened to know what the meaning of fate was through a story; a touching, yet inspiring story.

Here it was…

July

(Fate— it started everything…)

Kamijou Touma was sixteen when he met Ruiko Saten.

His life was dull, uncertain, smeared by the days without peace and confined by the phantom of misfortune. In his life, the tides never turned into his favor and catastrophe greeted him as a daily ritual, shrouding him with the cursed halo of lingering bad luck albeit the time and space. Yet beyond that, he was someone who would throw himself away to the trench of chaos and despair for someone whose name was engraved in his head, considering it as how a man supposed to be: a knight with shining armor. He had never fallen in love— the word itself sounded preposterous and ambiguous, too vague to define; something he would spend his time on (much) later in life. Kamijou Touma was that kind of man.

Until he met her.

Fate entwined their worlds amidst the sweet aroma of delicacies, right on the time when the sky was so blue and spotless that it seemed more like an artwork, painted on a canvas called galaxy. Saten didn't greet him with a smile or flowery words; it all started when a plate of noodles decided to nest on his head after a short flight, shattering all the thought of a good, halcyon day. She bowed, apologized; he sighed, lamenting another misfortune. They met; they would talk a bit; they would leave. It didn't stray from the scenario, his scenario, but fate didn't let anything going that way.

Then, the incident happened.

Accounts varied widely as to exactly describe what transpired that day in Seventh Mist; yet the rendezvous point of each story was always the same: a robbery, a middle school-girl, and a bold high school student. Everything was quick, leaving only a few scratches and bruises, but he was quite stupefied by the courage of the young girl; despite the fragility, she braved herself to bite the robber on the hand, giving him chance to attack. When she helped him treating his wound, for once, he noticed how her spheres dimmed, how it turned cloudy and distant. Saten spilled all her unspoken failures and secrets; the regret she felt for being unable to help him at the very pivotal moment. And he— he forgot what he said, but it could be good.

Something felt wrong and unfinished after he had left; an unfilled gap he didn't understand. Her image started forming in his head, illusive, but it also allured him strongly. He didn't understand but somehow he understood why and the reason was nothing smaller than everything.

And fate— it would tell him exactly why.

August

(Fate— it was unpredictable…)

He met her again when the twilight descended from its throne, painting everything red as the sun sank on the west. The world started to succumb into an imminent slumber and so did the activities of its inhabitants. The sky was a glass of mellow crimson, static and cloudless. There was another someone not far from him, chasing him with all the blinding light of electricity as he accelerated on the concrete, attempting to get away from the fully-energized Misaka Mikoto.

The Railgun decided that today was the day she would beat him, and no matter how often he persuaded her to call it a day, she shut him up with another spark of mini-thunder. Being the strongest girl in Academy City, Kamijou Touma wondered why she would waste her power on a level-0 esper. Nonetheless, when he asked her why, he only got another nonsense answer and another spark flew in the mid-air.

He dived to the nearest bushes; an array of green, natural fences lining on the side of the pavement; attempting to hide from the raging girl. He supposed his action to do so was logical, noting another blast of thunder that missed only an inch from his head just a while ago. When he thought that he had mingled perfectly with the surroundings, a whisper pierced his eardrums and he nearly caught a cardiac arrest because of it.

"Hey!" despite the sudden shock that was synonymous to a spark of thunder, he knew the voice and his black orbs met hers. "What are you doing here!" Saten whispered indignantly, even though the same question could also be applied to her.

"You should answer it too!" he responded with the lowest, yet audible voice he could exert, fearing the hazel predator that was still looking for her prey. Ruiko Saten was wearing her uniform, all clothed in white and blue, with the same flower ornament attached on her silky hair. She was nothing fishy, except for the metal object she held with the utmost care, the vital tool for espionage. "And why are you holding… that digital camera?"

"To preserve the memory of course!" her face changed into that smug expression and he lost any intention to ask further. The sunset tinted her face red, wiping all the porcelain skin he preferred to see— because she looked so mischievous and cunning with the red color spreading on her visage. "I'll give you one of the photos! It costs only 100 yen!" she cheered.

"This is not something you can record for commercial purpose!" Touma responded, his mind started racing, thinking of what his future would be with the photos of him and Mikoto in public. Perhaps he would just lock himself in the nearest toilet until all the gossips flew with the blowing breeze. "Give that digital camera to me!" he stretched his hands to reach the camera in her hand, and she screamed something he would never expect.

"Kyaaahhh! Pervert!" she screeched loudly, and all the thought of seizing the camera changed, and what he wanted was just escaping in light speed. Nevertheless, his legs somehow felt numb, reducing all the nimbleness that should support him now. Just before he regained his composure (to runaway as fast as possible), he could feel the shadow of a certain someone together with the faint sound of charging electricity.

"And you… what are you doing here?"

Night descended upon the earth, and hell descended upon Kamijou Touma.

September

(Fate— it would never forget…)

The next time they met, his memory didn't store any images of her— the black-haired girl of the past and fantasies.

It was daybreak; the day had just woken up and the world looked so desolate. Everything was fresh— the air, the wind, the sun, the velvety carpet of perennial grass, and also, the memory— the memory about her.

Fate set them together again despite his eternal amnesia, giving him chance to invoke any memory that was synonymous to crystal: mysterious, fragile, but somehow alluring. They were both in the grocery store, lining up in an array of people in front of the cashier, patiently waiting for their turns to show up. It was a weekly-morning-sale, when the price of his source of nutrients satisfied his wallet. When he met her, his brain didn't know her, but his heart knew.

"Hey, it's good to see you again!" she began, her smirk was mischievous. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"…yeah?"

"Hu-hum, still can't forget that photos-incident? Don't worry! I didn't sell it publicly!"

He wondered who she truly was. In the radiant light of morning sun which spilled all over the grocery store in long, golden arcs, she looked much brighter than anything; like a jewel in a barren land; pale, mesmerizing and dazzling. Out of everything, he wondered if he had met her somewhere before. Because every time he looked at those twinkling, black spheres, he would start remembering events he thought he would never know. Yet it pulled something inside— sweetly nostalgic.

The little chit-chat he had with her was no longer supervised by time, and it was her turn now to pay. When she was ready to leave, her smile elongated, whispering a soft-spoken farewell and his heart ached a little, as if he wanted her— the mysterious girl with radiant eyes and bright smile— by his side for a longer time. He quickly shouted after her. "Wait!"

The black haired girl turned, a questioning look on her visage as he approached her. "Do I… what's your name?" Touma asked.

Their stares at each other were unbroken; and somehow they had forgotten the lines and all the spectators that watched with all the glory of curiosity. When he thought that dropping off the conversation was the best alternative to avoid unwanted public's attention, her lips curved into that sweet smile in the shade of morning sun. "Don't you remember?" she inquired.

"I mean…" his words failed to support him and everything inside his brain was blank. "I think you've told me once before… But it's been a while and…"

"I know you…" she softly said. "… and you know me… I know that, Kamijou Touma."

And then she left, disappearing into the blinding, predawn light; calm breeze created pattern in the mid-air as it embraced his body. The world looked lonelier than before in his perspective, as the scrambled pieces of memory started to unite here and there, with one question echoed over and over again in his head.

"Don't you remember?"

November

(Fate— it wasn't separated by distance…)

The name was Ruiko Saten, a middle school girl that studied at Sakugawa Middle School in Academy City. She was around thirteen years old, three years greener than him; too young to love but not too young to respect it. Ruiko Saten was flighty; she did something she shouldn't do, but she had got a certain charm that captured his heart, perfectly seizing it with her dainty hands that felt so her. Her laugh, her smile, her brilliant eyes, just everything she exposed to the world— gave more than comfortable sensation to his body. He understood this as affection, or maybe way more than it.

Fate let them to meet in various places, and Kamijou Touma never missed the opportunity to know more about the girl. They shared secrets, something confidential that he would never dream of exposing; they changed phone-numbers, something he (almost) never did for years; and the friendship grew. The two months they spent was jubilee, and he framed it in his head, silently storing it as future reference.

… And he decided not to meet her for a while when the world was in the verge of war; when the world shattered in pieces of foul play and self-interest; when peace was sought in misery of the enemies and when his mind couldn't recall any time without war. Magic and science clashed; the world started to deteriorate, and he played an important key for the two sides. He wasn't afraid of death; the sight of blood, the broken bones, and mutilated corpses were not even nauseating anymore. He wondered when he should be remorseful— perhaps later, in the future life.

Despite the chaotic world, they still kept in touch to each other; by text messages, by phone calls, and even by video calls. The three-minutes-conversation with her every night kept him sane, and he somehow could forget that the tomorrow could not appear tomorrow. Ruiko Saten was the girl of magic and comfort; she could do something that nobody could do, something he wished for, and she fulfilled the wish.

She was the light for his sole heart; the seraph that saved it from being engulfed by all the darkness and grief. Every fragment of his life was full of battle, battle, and battle; and she was the one that reminded him that hope still existed and someone was waiting for him at home. He was the man of legend, feared by the magic side and respected by the science side, but he was still longing for freedom and peace, just like how a human supposed to be.

And she— she had given him peace.

December

(Fate— it gave comfort…)

He was sitting beside her when the sky was brushed by the mellow combination of grey and indigo, when the first wave of snow was bestowed upon the land, signaling the first assault from winter to the earth. She was with him when the said guy was in the mercy of guilt and grief; when the war was over and his memory was full of death; when he survived vigilantly and his friends did not; when the sight of pines and cedars in flurry white behind couldn't give him comfort.

"Come on, don't say that," Saten patted him on the back, silently wishing to the Seraphim to lift all the burdens on his gnarled shoulders. She was wearing a thick, blue winter coat with white beanie on her head. Ruiko Saten, despite the bitter draft, was like a resident of a sweet world; but she still couldn't return Kamijou Touma to his normal state. "You survived, you should be grateful for that… I know your comrades don't want to see you in such state."

"Yeah, like they can still see and talk," Kamijou Touma spoke bitterly, its chill was running down through her spines, breaking her mind and somehow she forgot how to talk. The chat was dispensed in a cold circle that everything couldn't strike Saten as a normal conversation with Kamijou Touma. He was void, hollow, and his stare down the concrete was all nothingness and blood. It was as though… he would commit suicide once he left.

And she would not let it happen— she couldn't let him went before her.

"Aww, don't say that… Let's have a cup of hot chocolate! Perhaps it could…"

"It's my fault…"

And the world— his world plummeted into an endless hole; all the grief, guilt, and emotion he felt was put into a single moment. The long-awaited tears slowly fell to the ground and the glass of mask that hid his face, keeping him alive, broke. He covered his face, attempting to conceal the visage that he didn't want to show again anywhere and somewhere in Saten's head, a whisper so soft and silky and sad told her that it was too late; he had fallen into the darkness.

"It was my fault… I could save them… They were in front of my eyes, but I couldn't save them. Why must they die? Not me?"

But it was not too late to lift him up.

Her hands, her head, all her body reached him, putting him into an embrace that he really wanted, so desperately needed. She circled her arms around his neck, giving him warmth that he didn't expect. And with that, a whisper; so low and final; reached his ears and it put him in ease.

"Stop it… You have fought so hard…" and she cried, the cry of sadness and sympathy and regret for not being around when she was needed the most. She absorbed all his sadness with one hug, and for once, he could think of paradise, of spring, of delicacies, and of home, the place where he was accepted and embraced by the girl of his dream. "Please stop mourning."

When he was in her embrace, time seemed to stop and the space burst into a whirlwind of exotic crystal feathers. The land stretched out before him suddenly changed into the landmark of a garden, and even though he had never been artistic enough to comment on aesthetics; he could know that it was a heaven on the earth. Nevertheless, what he cared of was just Ruiko Saten, and he was ready to give her the world in a silver platter, and eventually, his reply was conveyed via the turbulent wind of winter.

"Thank you…"

January

(Fate— it would be sweet…)

He met her again when he was still sixteen; when it was night already and the sky was black, dotted with the twinkling stars from the outer space. They were gazing at the stars, watching them danced and everything appeared so peaceful as though the war never happened. Snow didn't fall, and wind didn't mess the atmosphere. It was winter; but it was perfect.

"That was Sagittarius, Aquarius, Leon, and Libra…"she named the stars, pointing it with her porcelain hand and the smile was eternal on her face. "Umm… what was that? Scorpio? Or… Hey, why are you staring at me?" she demanded.

"Hey Saten-san?"

"What…"

"You're awesome…"

A giggle.

"Call me Ruiko."

So that's all guys... the sequel of 'Hero of the World'. Since I was flooded by the request of making the sequel, so I wrote this. Well, it's pretty hard, by hey, I managed to write it down. It was not my best though. Please review!

Oh...and with this story... I realized that imagination is such a precious thing. Haha