For in life we find death, and in death we find life.
I.
"Mama, Papa, can I stay with you tonight?"
A small, diminutive girl. Choppy raven hair and dark gray eyes. Her feet shuffle together as she glances down; thin, reedy arms tightening around the tattered teddy bear in her hold.
"Oh, sweetie." Larger arms circle down and embrace the young child, stuffed animal and all. "Are you having another of those nightmares? Goodness, I thought I already told your brothers to watch their horror films somewhere else. Did they scare you again, darling?"
The little girl doesn't reply and shivers instead, curling closer to her mother, who pats her consolingly.
"There, there. You can sleep with Mama and Papa again tonight, okay? Mama and Papa will chase away all the monsters for you."
A small sniffle, and the woman hefts the tiny girl onto her hip, pressing a comforting kiss to the young child's forehead. The man behind them finally sets down the newspapers in his hands and walks over, adding a kiss of his own as he embraces the both of them.
"Don't worry, don't worry. It's just a dream. Mama and Papa will make the bad dreams go away."
…
Except.
Except they don't.
She wakes up screaming and crying and clutching hysterically at her parents. They shower her with hugs and kisses and whispers of endearments and reassurances to ground her to the safety of reality instead of the terrors of imagination, but it takes a long time before the distraught little girl even begins calming down again and go back to sleep.
"Don't be scared of dreams, honey. They're not real. Mama and Papa are here with you, so everything will be fine. Everything will be fine. Just breathe and relax, and those bad dreams will all go away. Everything will be fine."
The little girl nods, hiccupping between shaky sobs.
…
She's a good little girl, so she listens to her parents as they continue to mutter sweet nothings into her ear. She breathes and relaxes and closes her eyes again.
Except.
Except it's another lie.
The dreams come back again, and with a vengeance.
…
"Relax, sweetie. You're fine." Hugs and kisses and sweet nothings. The terrified girl continues screaming. "Don't fret, the nightmares will disappear soon."
Except.
They.
Don't.
…
… The nightmares never go away.
II.
She blinks, and there it is again.
A shapeless man is slumped on the ground. She doesn't recognize him. She doesn't recognize any of them. She's only aware of a feeling vaguely akin to satisfaction ringing in her hollow chest when she turns away from the sluggishly bleeding corpse, eerily calm and composed with a slight upwards tilt at the edge of her lips.
And it scares her.
Because this is nauseating, disgusting, and all she wants to do right now is run into her Mama's arms where it's warm and safe and everything will be alright.
(Oh gods, how she wants to believe those words so much except it never is, never works–)
She doesn't want to see this.
She doesn't want to see the way the screaming man's skin peeled back so easily to reveal goblets and rivulets of ruby-red blood, doesn't want to see how easy it was to snap her fingers and watch his bones grind into dust, doesn't want to see how she simply lowered her hand and the man's body just seized and distorted and ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod what'sgoingongetmeoutgetmeoutI'mscaredthiscan'tbehappeningit'snotit'snot-
A low whistle sounds behind her, and a warm hand lands on her shoulder. She opens her mouth to scream, except nothing comes out from her throat.
"Huh, what did this one do?"
She responds with a voice that is-but-isn't her own.
"He's a warning to the rest of them." A casual gesture at the bloody pulp on the ground. She feels nauseous and tries to close her eyes, except they remain stubbornly open despite her fervent wishes. "A warning that I will not tolerate their transgressions a second time."
Horror envelopes her like a shroud when she finally registers these cold, careless words. Speaking as if this man wasn't even another human being, as if he was somehow worth even less than the dirt beneath her feet, how could any decent person act this way–
"Hmm." The man behind her tousles her hair affectionately. "Try being a little less bloody next time, then? The bloodstains are always hard to wash out."
She tries to scream again, and this time, she manages to make sound.
Except, all that comes out of her mouth is a lighthearted laugh that chills her to her core.
"I'll keep that in mind."
III.
A set of doors slide open, and an immaculately-dressed doctor walks in with a clipboard in hand.
"Nakamura-san, was it?" The woman sitting in the office chair looks up at the sound of his voice. "We've finished the preliminary diagnosis on your daughter's condition just now, but would you mind answering a few questions so we can get a clearer grasp on the problem at hand? We would appreciate a more comprehensive view of her condition before deciding on the treatment and medications."
"Yes, yes, of course."
"Alright. Thank you for your cooperation, Nakamura-san. Shall we begin, then?"
The doctor shuffles his papers before glancing up at the woman sitting across his desk again.
"How long has your daughter been having these nightmares of hers?"
Professional, prompt, to-the-point. A detached sort of interest lingering in his words.
"Well…" the woman hesitates briefly, a small frown briefly creasing her brow as she tried to recall the information. "It's been going on for several months now, I think. She came to my husband and I about them at the beginning of this month, though I think I've heard her thrashing around in her sleep before that on occassion. My older sons, they've developed an interest in horror movies as of late, and I'm afraid that it might've…"
"Ah, I see." The doctor nodded, writing a few notes in the margins of the documents in front of him. "Alright. Now, do you know if she has…"
…
…
…
When will this stop?
I'm not crazy.
I'm not.
(… Am I?)
Sometimes, I hear them. The voices. Hundreds of voices, buzzing in my mind. Saying things that I don't understand and shouldn't understand and somehow still do.
When will this stop?
…
…
…
"…have her try these medications for now. Thrice a day, and also take these pills before she sleeps. Continue this for a month or so, and if there's still no change in her condition, then come back to the clinic again and we'll try a different prescription. Have a good day, Nakamura-san."
IV.
Blink.
Sunlight. Sunlight filters in through frayed window frames and thick, dusty glass. Not moonlight. Not moonlight filtering in through tall French windows made with a craftsmanship that makes the glass look as if it was crystal.
Blink.
Blankets. Warm cotton blankets, coarse fabric. Not swan feathers and silk and velvet and whatever extravagant materials covering her body to protect her from the cold.
Blink.
Her room. The ceiling is slanted because she sleeps in the attic so as not to disturb the rest of the family when her nightmares come. It's small and cramped here in an oddly nice sort of way and the floorboards are made of wood. Wood, not marble.
She looks down at her hands.
A little pale from lack of sunlight, but nonetheless still glowing with a healthy pallor. Normal hands. Not bone-thin and sickly pale and dripping with bl–
No, no, don't think about it!
…
It's okay.
Everything will be fine.
Everything will be fine.
Everything will be fine.
…
Maybe if she repeats the mantra enough, it'll finally work?
(She doesn't hold her breath on that thought.)
V.
"Onii-chan, onii-chan!"
The young boy looks down to see his little sister tugging at the leg of his pants, bottom lip quivering and glassy-eyed with tears. It's nothing new; she's always been rather jumpy and clingy –so with a hidden long-suffering sigh, he swings her onto his lap before turning back to his homework again, inwardly sighing in exasperation.
Except.
Instead of quietly clutching to him like she usually does in these cases, she starts crying.
To his credit, Sousei doesn't panic, even though he's suddenly at a complete loss as for what to do. He doesn't know how to deal with crying girls; their mother is out grocery shopping and their father is at work and Yuuto ran off to play baseball again, curse the little devil–
(Okay, so maybe he's panicking a little. Just a little. )
… Was this another of the 'fits' that Mother told him to watch out for? What was he supposed to do?
(Mother, leave better instructions next time!)
"Onii-chan," the little girl wails, and it takes considerable effort on Sousei's part not to flinch away when she bursts into another round of fresh tears. "Don't run off and get into fights! And… and… don't play with swords… and…"
Nonsensical words run together, and Sousei awkwardly hugs his little sister as she rambles on and on about monsters that aren't real and terrifying things that only exist in her mind. Geez. Looks like that latest doctor was another scammer. He honestly couldn't see how it was good for sleeping pills to be recommended for one so young, anyways… and it wasn't even like she had some sort of mental trauma to need them, right?
Right.
It was only the nightmares.
She just… had a very active imagination that might've gotten a little carried away with the horror films Yuuto used to bring back and watch with him in the name of 'brotherly bonding.' Sousei hadn't so much as even touched another horror film after the first time their little sister had went to the doctor for her nightmares, but it seemed like those nightly terrors of hers weren't going to be stopping anytime soon.
Mentally, he sighed again, tightening his arm around the little girl.
… At least there were some nights when she was actually able to sleep peacefully. Thank goodness for small mercies.
VI.
There it is again.
Roses and daffodils and lilies and hydrangeas; all sorts of flowers that she knows and all sorts of flowers that she can't even begin to name; all in full bloom in the beautiful garden that wouldn't be out of place in the fairyland storybooks.
(Thank goodness for small mercies. This is one of the times where there's no blood no gore no death no–)
"Little miss, would you like a cup of chamomile?"
A small smile curls at the corner of her lips, even though she hasn't moved.
"That would be lovely, Alfredo."
Bone-thin hands that are much too pale to be her own reach out and gently receive the delicate teacup offered by the old butler standing beside her.
Happiness.
Contentment.
Emotions that she has never felt before, not like this, but a feeling almost tangible that beats in her chest and fills her with an indescribable warmth, fingers tingling–
"The mistress is asking for you again, little miss. She seems adamant that you move out of the West Wing. "
Vague amusement as the warm feelings fade a little.
"Really now? My answer won't change, no matter how many times she… insists upon it. Father approached me the other day about it, too, and I refused."
A sip of tea.
"Wise choice, little miss."
"Thank you, Alfredo."
She hears the words and understands them, but for some reason she still thinks she's missing the entire point of the conversation.
… Well.
Who knows?
It certainly wouldn't be the first time if she did.
VII.
The first time that Yuuto realizes that his baby little sister isn't normal is when a random man on the street walks up and shoots glitter spray at him.
…
… Ridiculous, you say?
This is how it happens:
His baby little sister is sleeping in the basket-carrier-thingymabobber like all infants do, while Mama is shopping for something inside the store. It's only for a moment, and since the store doesn't allow young children inside –so he's just standing there, kicking at pebbles on the cracked edge of the sidewalk, with his little baby sister sleeping sedately beside him.
Then it happens.
"Oi. Kid."
Yuuto turns around almost lazily at the growl of an unfamiliar voice, an annoyed "What?" lingering on his lips, before he freezes.
Cuz. Well.
What would you do if you were just standing at the corner of a store, kicking pebbles and minding your own business and waiting for Mama, and suddenly a creepy-looking gangster man popped out of nowhere and is pointing a gun at you?
So he opens his mouth and–
"Scream and I'll shoot, kid."
–and it's too late because he's already screaming and the man's eyes narrow and he shoots anyways and ohmygodI'mgonnadie–
Except.
…
A burst of gold and silver sparkles are all that come forth from the tip of the gun.
His jaw snaps shut with an audible clack and he instantly feels the blood rushing towards his cheeks; embarrassment, at being caught in what was obviously a mere prank–
But then Yuuto looks up at the man's expression and he feels his blood run cold.
Because the man looks just as shocked as he does.
"What in the world–?" The gangster-man is looking down the barrel of his gun now, confusion etched in every line of his face, and he pulls the trigger again and–
Ohmygod.
Ohmygod.
OHMYGOD.
(Blood.)
(Blood.)
(Blood.)
…
Yuuto… doesn't really remember what happened after that, other than a lot of screaming.
What he does remember, though, through that haze of absolute fear and panic –his little sister's hazel eyes wide open and staring at the spot where the blood is pooling and painting the sidewalk a brilliant redredred, and then those tiny lips are curving into a small smile that looks completely wrongwrongwrong on an infant's face.
And then, in a sudden moment of perfect clarity, he knows.
He knows.
(Oh gods, his sister isn't even a year old and she just– just–)
…
… But who will believe him?
No one.
No one.
…
Isn't it funny?
Sousei isn't even related to them by blood, and he's still more of a brother to his baby little sister than Yuuto has ever been, and ever will be.
Part of him knows he should be ashamed by this, but another part of him –the part that always and forever remembers the blood and the screaming and the ohmygodI'mgonnadie– really, really, really couldn't care less about it all, as long as she stays far, far, far away from him.
(Because a part of him can never forget the way those cold hazel eyes stared unfeelingly at the redredred blood.)
VIII.
Who are you?
Only three simple little words, and somehow she can't dislodge them from her throat.
She's sitting in a boat. Dark waters stretch as far as the eye can see under a thousand-star-speckled sky. A foggy white mist curls gently on top of the waves, softly lapping at the waters, and she squints at the humanoid shape faintly silhouetted in the distance of the strange, unnatural mist.
Who are you? She tries to ask again, but still nothing comes out. She coughs, trying to clear her throat –and that sound comes out perfectly fine– but when she tries to speak again her voice is gone.
Frustrating, really.
…
The humanoid shadow's face is tilted upwards towards the starlit heavens, as she is steadily ignored, and she struggles to speak again, because somehow, intuitively, she knows that this is important.
So.
…
Who are you?
IX.
Her name is Setsu.
Nakamura Setsuko is a quiet girl, the youngest of three children. She's antisocial and doesn't have many friends, so she spends most of her free time drawing and painting in the backyard of the rickety old house. Her dream is to become a famous artist one day so she can move her family out of their run-down home and into a nice one, preferably one with marble floors and tall French windows that are rimmed with sunlight all the time.
Both of her parents have divorced their previous spouses before meeting and marrying each other, and while they have no children between them who shares both of their blood, three children from their earlier marriages are plenty enough for an underpaid accountant and a bakery woman to raise on their own.
Setsu loves her parents and her brothers.
(Privately, in a corner of her own mind, she admits that she likes Sousei best. Better than Yuuto, for all that Mama tells her that Yuuto is her actual brother.)
Because Sousei is nice and listens to her ramblings and never brushes her off when he's tired or when it's two o'clock in the morning. For as long as she can remember, ever since her parents told her that she was a 'big girl' now and couldn't keep running to Mama and Papa for every little nightmare with dark rings under their eyes, she'd been running to Sousei instead –because Sousei didn't mind a terrified, shaking bundle of cotton blankets bolting into his room in the middle of the night with a blubbering sister inside.
(Or if he did mind, at least he had the decency to not push her away. Not like Yuuto, who panicked when she bowled into him, sniffling and crying, and blindly shoved –she still remembers the terror of falling down the stairs and getting a nasty cut on her arm and oh gods the blood. She always feels queasy at the sight of blood.)
But.
Even if Yuuto is sometimes a meanie and ignores her for baseball and Sousei is too busy to play with her and Mama and Papa don't come home until midnight –Setsu loves and is loved by her family.
… It's normal, isn't it?
So why does she sometimes feel like crying, for seemingly no reason at all?
Why does she sometimes automatically look around for a grandfatherly man in a butler's outfit when she's alone with the withering roses in the backyard? Why does she sometimes glance up while writing homework and expect to see a tall tutor standing in front of her? Why does she sometimes wake up in the middle of thunderstorms and tiptoe into her brothers' rooms to check to see if they are sleeping well?
Why?
…
X.
Who am I?
Setsu.
Who am I?
Setsuko.
Who am I?
Nakamura Setsuko!
…
…
… Really?
.
…
.
Author's Notes:
Hi all. :3
Welcome to Canopus, the quasi-sequel of sorts to Polaris. I don't want to call it an official sequel since, well, it's not being told from the perspective of the Stella we all know and love, but from her reincarnation instead. (Or maybe, it actually is Stella we're talking about here? ;3)
To new readers –I highly advise reading Polaris first. Unless, well, this first chapter makes sense to you, I guess. xD Still advise reading Polaris though, since you'll pick up on a lot more things if you do.
Canopus. Where Stella Squalo is reincarnated into Nakamura Setsuko, a Namimori resident. Who knows what'll happen next, eh?
Special Mention: Guys, thank Viiranen for this sequel. As mentioned in the last Polaris AN, I had next to no intentions of ever writing a sequel. Well. After a few PMs with Viiranen my mind got changed, so here you go. :3
Are there any thoughts on Canopus so far? Any predictions on the direction it might take? Anything specific that you might be looking forward to in this tale?
xD
-XxZuiliu