I woke up with my face in the dirt. Cicadas buzzed overhead, and the birds chirped along. Compared to the hot sunshine, the dirt kept me at a cool temperature. Sleeping in the forest wasn’t so bad, actually. At least, once you get over the bug bites, muddy cheeks, and dirty clothes.
Standing up, I grumbled, as I tried to clean off my pullover and pants. Trying to pat it away though, I only ended up smearing the mud. My body ached, due to the uncomfortable dirt bed, and itches riddled my body, because of the mosquito bites I received overnight.
Next to the indented silhouette of my body, my new book sat on the ground. Compared to the condition of my first book, this one had a lot more of a problem. Since it had been stored away in the dirt, the pages were much dirtier, and the leather covering broke down due to water that dripped down there. Forests such as this have a lot of rainfall, though not as much as rainforests.
Being as careful as possible, I picked up my book from the ground. Even as I cradled it like a newborn baby, the weight still shifted in a way that suggested that it would fall apart very soon. Once I got the chance, I decided to try and put it under preservation methods. Along with that, I should also make a copy of the book somehow. If I searched enough too, I could also find safe storage for the book.
Once I verified the condition of the paper, I hugged it close to my chest. The ink on the pages were only slightly discernible from the mud, but if I concentrated, I could make out the words. Still, getting supplies to help the book stood high on my to-do list.
In one arm, I embraced the old book, and in the other, I held onto the symbol paper. I made sure to fold the paper so that the guiding symbol sat on top, since I didn’t know how it worked. For all I knew, it needed to be in the sun to work, but I could test it another time.
Bringing up the paper up to my lips, I whispered to it, imagining a place where I could find the correct equipment to repair the book. It responded by faintly glowing and creating a new path for me to follow. Its light glowed faintly, so I assumed that the location would be far. Luckily, it directed towards the same area that it did when I wanted to go home.
“I need a way to repair this book,” I spoke, not knowing if the symbol required speaking as a requirement.
Compelled to follow the light, I began strolling down the road. As the road curved, so did the light. For some reason, the symbol worked in a way as if it cared about the roads. It could have easily told me to walk into the forest, but it didn’t. Instead, the light directed me down the conventional path.
After about an hour of walking, the sight of a town loomed over. My feet started to ache, and the heat of the sun brought out a lot of sweat from me. I even took off my sweater to tie around my waist, just to help myself cool off.
Around me, I couldn’t spot any places to get water, and I didn’t want to test any green ponds to drink from. Sickness could easily ravage my stamina, and that wouldn’t be good for travelling on foot. I didn’t get how people could walk so much before, since I was about to collapse from my small amount of travelling.
Now, with the city in sight, I picked up my pace, shuffling my feet at the speed of a jog. My dry mouth desired water, and my feet needed a place to rest. With any luck, I could find a place to fulfil both of those needs, but I still needed to face the problem with money.
The scam artist from yesterday stole my payment card, meaning that I would only be able to receive water if I begged for it. I’d heard that water fountains in Arundal were filthy, so I didn’t know whether I could trust them, if I found one.
---
Walking down the street in the nearby town, many people turned their gazes at me. In their faces, I could find ones of pity and disgust. Oddly, I found more of the latter. I never knew people would point more disgust than pity at a kid.
Finally reaching my destination, I stopped in front of a shop. It didn’t quite match my imagination, but it did have what I was looking for. A supplies shop, made to sell items to service any old items, like physical instruments, books, non-holographic computers, and much more.
“Welcome,” an old man greeted, “are you looking for something?”
“Yes,” I answered, pulling up the book, “is there anything you have that can mend this book?”
“Hm,” the elder put on some reading glasses, “could I see the condition of the book?”
“Of course,” I replied, handing him the book.
I watched as he took the book in gently and opened the cover to check the pages. He grimaced a bit, looking over the mud on the paper. Then, he flipped from the middle of the book to the front page, and his eyes widened.
“Ma’am, would you mind if I bought this off you?” he asked, “It’s quite interesting, and I’d love to add it to my collection.”
“This book isn’t for sale,” I responded, “do you have any of the cleaning supplies for it?”
“I’m sorry,” the man put the book down on the receptionist’s counter, “but I’m going to have to insist on buying this from you.”
“But I already said no,” I replied, “I just want to clean this.”
Leaning forward a bit, the old man slipped his hand off the counter and took something from some hidden compartment. Bringing his hands back up, they now had a metal rod in his hands. Not just any metal rod sat in his hands though, instead, he had a gun in his hands. A double barrel shotgun is what it was, pointed right at my face.
“Give me the book,” the old man insisted, “or I’ll need to resort to desperate measures.”
At the threat of the receptionist, I tensed up. Just like in the fraudulent driver’s car, I froze up. Ridiculously, on my trip to Arundal, I managed to get a gun pulled on me two days in a row. Did everyone in this country have a gun?
This time though, I didn’t want to lose the book I worked hard to get. My feet ached from my walk, plus my face felt almost sticky to the touch, from all the sweat, and the annoying tingling sensation of mosquito bites tingled all over my body. I absolutely refused to let all that end with me losing the book.
Retaliating against the old man, I took a quick step forward and pushed the barrel of the gun upwards. The man pulled back, not expecting that. A loud bang boomed from his gun, reinforcing the fear in my gut. I needed to think of something quick, before he brought his gun out of range for me to push from my face.
Dust came down from the ceiling, raining dust onto my head. My brown hair must have looked very horrible, from the mud and dust combined. Through the dust though, a trick played on my eyes. The light that guided me glowed strongly, but it didn’t go in a straight line.
Instead of pointing a wide current of light in a direction I should head in, it instead had a very thin line go from where my other hand lingered to the bottom of the barrel, then arched over my head. I didn’t get what it meant, but I believed that light wanted me to grab onto the gun and pull it away from the old man’s grasp.
As I continued to observe the light, the old man continued to pull away, sliding the gun further from my palm that kept it pointing up. Time continued to pass, and I needed to make a choice. The book still sat on the counter, and I needed a chance to grab it from him. So, I did what the light suggested I should do.
By grabbing the barrel of the gun and pulling it, I brought the old man closer to the counter. Still, with a little force from both my arms, I pried the shotgun from his hands. He still held his arms out for it, leaving him vulnerable, and the light changed directions as the situation did.
Now, the light pointed from the back of the gun and onto his forehead. He didn’t react to the light, so I assumed that the light was only for me to see. With that in mind, that meant that he couldn’t predict the moves I made that the light told me to use.
Doing as the light wanted, I slammed the gun down back at the man as I grabbed it before. At the sudden impact, he stumbled backwards, losing his footing. I used that chance to grab the book back and back away.
“Oh, no you don’t,” the old man grumbled, as I raced for the door.
A strong light shone behind me, as I grabbed the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Somehow, the old man had locked the door from the other side of the store. My hands trembled, still locked onto the door handle, too afraid to look back.
“You’re a real handful, girl,” the old man spat, “I don’t think I can let you leave here alive anymore.”
Forcing me neck to turn back, I caught the sight of the old man projecting some circle with his hand. Inside the circle, some tiny scribbles could be seen within the lines of the circle. Some of them even looked familiar, like the symbols that I found in the first book. It glowed the same color as the guiding symbol too.
“It’s always a shame having to kill a non-magician,” the old man lamented, “but I can’t let you tell the public about that book, nor can I let you call the police on me, that would give me trouble.”
“Th-there’s no way this is real,” I muttered in awe.
“Hmph, you can die thinking that.” The old man’s circle glowed fiercer than before, and a flame appeared in front of it.
I could only watch as it approached me. If I moved out of the way, perhaps I could escape with only a small burn, but I still stuck to the door. In that tiny moment, I thought about my home. Just because of my little adventure, I would never be able to go home. But I didn’t want to die.
The fireball that the old man conjured flew right at my head, but then another flash of light nearly blinded me. In front of me, a new circle appeared, but only for a moment. Four hexagons in front of me glowed, and the fire collided with that rather than my face. This stunned me, and I stood in shock.
“That was magic...” the old man muttered, “so you’re a magician after all.”
Unsteadily, I moved my gaze from the bits of smoke from the oldie’s fireball to meet with his gaze. A crazed smirk spread across his face. As he smiled the way he did, multiple of those magic circles appeared all around him. All the circles pointed at me.
My hand slipped from the doorknob to the folded slip of paper I kept from yesterday. I opened it up, to try and urge them to help me. Still, I didn’t know how they worked. The symbols written on the paper were gibberish to me.
Then, as I looked over the symbols, I realized something. Where a certain symbol should have been, I only saw a blank space. Well, it became a blank space, but I could have sworn that I saw the light impression of its shape before. Could this symbol have been a one-time use?
“What’s wrong, girl?” the old man sneered, “Writing down your will and testament?”
“I need something to beat this guy,” I whispered, hoping that no one heard me, “please, point at something...”
Again, a sliver of light appeared, glowing over one of the runes and ran around the paper. I assumed that this meant that I would need to face the symbol towards the old man for it to work. So, trusting the light that brought me here, I flipped the paper around for the symbol to face my opponent.
“Hah? What are you doing?” he mocked, “Are you trying to hide behind that piece of paper?”
Orange light illuminated the room, from the flickering lights of the conjured fires. I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid of what would come next. But I didn’t burst into flames. Instead, an eerie silence greeted me. When I opened my eyes again, the fire was gone. Instead of the old man in a threatening pose, I saw the wall with a gaping hole in it. It was the size of a donut, but blood splattered around it.
Approaching the counter, I looked down and caught the sight of the old man, but without a head. Back on my sheet of paper, the symbol that my light pointed to disappeared. Now, I knew what that thing could do. The requirements for its activation still confused me though.
Sneakily, with the dead body of the receptionist, I snuck around the shop and “borrowed” some of his book repair tools. I still needed to touch up the book, and I think that he needed to pay back a little for his...bad service.
In the corner of the building, I found a door to the old man’s office. He had a lot of old technology in there, but my focus went on his bag. It had a very nice shine on its leather, and it looked like it had a shoulder strap. Something like that would be perfect for carrying the book and cleaning supplies. I might have been able to help myself a bit with his payment card as well...I’d just need his fingerprint.
Stolen novel; please report.
If I needed to make quick money, I could also sell the card on the black market, though that would get me far less than if I transferred the money to my account immediately. Plus, I wasn’t a petty thief. Doing something like that would put me on the same level as him and that one con artist.
Opening the bag, I noticed how empty it looked. Only a lone payment card sat in a small pocket inside. He didn’t even have any work papers, just his card. I guess he kept tidy, because all the files were on his shelf or file cabinet.
As I stuffed the bag with my new stuff, I remembered that I’d just killed someone. That probably wasn’t the type of thing I should have forgotten. A person’s blood was on my hands. With the little symbol I drew on a slip of paper, someone died, and I didn’t feel so bad. I doubted that spoke anything great about myself, but I couldn’t just tell anyone that I’d killed someone. If I did that, they might sentence me in his favor.
With all that in mind, I decided that I’d tuck tail and run. I didn’t want to go through the troubles of court, so I just ran away. Even with advanced technology today, they wouldn’t be able to guarantee my innocence, even if I only did what I did with self-defense.
I exited the building as calmly as I could, clutching onto the leather strap of my stolen bag. Before leaving the building, I already whispered to the guidance symbol to bring me to a train station. Just when I turned the corner to another street, I heard a shriek come from behind me. To know why that happened, I took a quick glance and saw the door to the old man’s store open.
Even after catching sight of that, I slowly turned back and continued to walk as if nothing happened. If I acted suspicious, I’d be more likely to be pulled in for questioning. So, I continued my way to the train station.
---
“Hey, you!” greeted a tall, blond-haired girl, “I remember you, you’re, uhm, Quinta, right?”
“That’s right,” I grumbled, annoyed by this sudden reunion with my elementary school friend, “it’s been a while, Izilandor.”
“Oh, I don’t go by that anymore,” she chuckled, “my friends call me Izzie now!”
“Izzie? That’s so...normal,” I responded, “I liked Izilandor better.”
“N-no, that’s too embarrassing...” Izilandor complained, “I was just...going through a phase back then...”
“Fine, if you don’t like your own nickname, then I guess I’ll just have to call you Isel again,” I said, “or do you really insist on ‘Izzie?’”
“I really insist,” she stood her ground.
“Hm, well, the train’s coming,” I told her, facing the tracks “I need to be getting home.”
“Yeah, you do look like you need a shower,” Izilandor commented, “but why don’t we talk a bit? We have so much to catch up on, like you and Garland’s prestigious school, and me with Reuben’s magic academy.”
“...The magic academy, huh?” I turned back to see her, “Maybe I will stick around a bit.”
“So, you’re interested? I’ll say, but you better tell me about the school for the prestigious,” Izilandor made me promise, “only then will I spill even the deepest and darkest secrets of the school!”
“You will?” I perked up, now very interested in what my old friend had to say.
“Well, not really,” she disappointed, “but I can tell you about what I’ve learned.”
“Oh, that sucks,” I muttered, “alright, fine, I’ll tell you about Garland’s prestigious school.”
“Yay! I finally get to talk to a real friend!” Izilandor celebrated, “Come on, I know a good place where we can get some food, and a place where we can get you cleaned up.”
“Getting cleaned up would feel nice,” I sighed, “so does food, but I don’t have any money to pay for that stuff.”
“That’s okay! I can pay for you,” she offered, “anything to talk with an old friend!”
“Also, what did you mean by talking to a ‘real’ friend?” I asked, “Are all your other friends imaginary?”
“No, they’re real,” Izilandor replied, “just not like you.”
“Well, duh, I’m me,” I retorted, “lead the way, I don’t know my way around Garusa.”
“Oh, no, we’re not staying in Garusa,” she corrected, “We’re taking the train to Hajima, that’s where the best of the best food is.”
“Really? Alright, well, I don’t know my way around Hajima either,” I responded, “I’ll be following you the whole way.”
“Great! Just stick close!” Izilandor told me, “I’m sure you’ll just love the food where we’re going.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I muttered tiredly, “let’s try to keep it short though, I still need to get home later.”
“Don’t worry!” Izilandor assured me, “we’ll be done by nighttime. You’ll have plenty of time to get home.”
“That’s not exactly the time I looked forward to go home at,” I grumbled, but went along with her.
Izilandor pulled me through the train station, stopping just a few tracks away from the one that led me home. While we waited in the new section, I tried to think of a few excuses I could give my parents when I returned home from two days of being missing. I’m sure they’ll be furious, but I also know they’re very concerned.
To take up the time, Izilandor began rambling about her social life to me. None of it interested me, but I had nothing else to do but listen. Still, I didn’t care about her friends, or her newfound hobbies. Based on how she talked about it sounded artificial too, like she’s trying to advertise herself the activities. Of course, that’d be hard to do, when the activity is gardening.
I didn’t have anything against gardening, but the Izilandor I knew hated getting her hands dirty. People did change over time, but I doubted she would go from getting sick from thinking about putting her hands in soil to a gardening lover. Then again, that’s her in elementary school.
“Gardening, huh?” I muttered, “What happened to your dreams of fashion design?”
“Goals change,” she answered, as if rehearsed, “it’s actually pretty fun to watch the plants grow. Plus, my ideas weren’t so great anyways…”
“It doesn’t sound like you think so,” I replied, “the Izilandor I knew wouldn’t give up from a few setbacks. In fact, you’d just annoyingly persist.”
“I guess…” Izilandor trailed off, “and, it’s Izzie. Izilandor is too weird.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s so weird,” I responded, “it’s special.”
Our small talk came to an end, once we arrived at a small building on the edge of the ancient city of Hajima. The smell of rain filled the air, but a second scent broke through it. Sizzling meat sounded in the quiet area, accompanied by the tempting smells of fried pork. My mouth already began salivating, as it knew what tastes would come with the other combination of activated senses.
“Here we are!” Izilandor announced, “Come on, let’s head on in!”
Without a word, I followed my old friend. I hid it well, but I hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast. Or, I thought I hid it, but a loud grumbling came from my bowels. We already entered the building’s open door, in a nicely lit and open area. Izilandor laughed, finding my hunger to be funny.
“Q-quit laughing,” I whined, “I’m hungry.”
“Well, I believe I can help with that,” a refined voice interrupted, belonging to a suited man, “welcome to our establishment, we have a few seats right this way…”
Following the groomed man, Izilandor and I walked at a slow pace, to keep behind him. While he didn’t walk very fast, he did have a good way of showing off the well-decorated, though rustic, area. The place gave a good break from a lot of technology, which could get a little too normal to see. Sometimes, a good break from the advanced electrical equipment gave a nice sense of ease. It reminded some people that we could live without our complicated devices.
“Now then, are you two ladies familiar with the menu? I know Izzie has its contents memorized,” the suited man turned his face to me, “but you may want to see what we have available.”
“I-I’d like a menu,” I answered, shrinking away from his steady gaze, “please.”
Compared to the worker’s straightforward cleanliness, I had mud and dust all over me. My hair had to be a mess, and I tried to run my fingers through it to try and be at least a little fashionable. I never expected to be entering a fine-dining place, but now that we sat in this place, I felt a little anxious.
“Here you go then,” he responded, handing me the restaurant’s menu.
“Isn’t this place great?” Izilandor commented, “It’s perfect for conversations.”
“Not when I look like this!” I whispered harshly, “Do I look ready for such a fancy outing?”
“Well, now that you mention it,” Izilandor looked over me, “I guess not…”
“Have you not looked at me?” I scolded, “I’m hideous!”
“I think you look fine though,” Izilandor replied, “just a little…dirty, that’s all.”
“Just a little?” I questioned, “Are you sure?”
“Uh…” Izilandor shrank away, on the other side of the table, from me, “no?”
Letting out a big sigh, I didn’t notice the worker return from the kitchen. In fact, I don’t think I even noticed him leave. I kind of forgot he was there, but that didn’t stop him from doing his job.
“I have some water here,” he informed, setting down a pitcher and some red, dyed glass cups, “are you ready to order?”
“O-oh, um,” I looked down at the menu, realizing that I hadn’t opened it up yet. Ridiculously, I spent too much time bickering with Izilandor.
“I’ll have a hot green tea with chicken katsu!” Izilandor ordered, “Oh and, for a dessert, I’d like to have some apple pie! With some vanilla ice cream, please!”
“All right,” the waiter man took out a notepad and scribbled down Izilandor’s order, “and you, ma’am?”
“I-I’ll have what she’s having,” I replied, “thank you.”
“Okay, two servings of chicken katsu, two green teas, and two apple pies with vanilla ice cream, is that right?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Izilandor confirmed, nodding her head.
“Got it, then I’ll be taking this back,” the server took our menu and walked back into the kitchen.
Turning to Izilandor, I awkwardly asked, “So what’s chicken katsu?”
“You don’t know?” Izilandor reacted with a gasp, exaggerating her shock.
“No, I don’t know,” I said, “my culinary knowledge stops at fruity waffles and cereal.”
“Oh, well,” Izilandor pondered over how to describe it, then came up with, “it’s chicken.”
“Well duh!” I shouted, at a moderate level of volume, “It’s in the name!”
“It’s, um,” she corrected her answer to, “chicken katsu?”
“That’s just you repeating the name now,” I grumbled, “fine, I’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Yeah, now hurry up and tell me,” Izilandor changed the subject, “what’s the prestigious school like?”
“Okay, well,” I sat back, relaxing through the shift in conversation, “it’s basically just like any other school, just that we delve into more topics, and we stay at school past dinner.”
“Really?” Izilandor questioned, “But isn’t that too long? There’s no breaks?”
“They give us twenty minute passing periods,” I added, “and those serve as our breaks for the day.”
“Yikes, so how are the classes? Regular length?” Izilandor asked, “do you have four periods a day or eight?"
“Four,” I answered, “but we rotate classes, so we have three sets of four.”
“So you have twelve different periods in total?” Izilandor gaped, “isn’t that hard to manage?”
“Not really,” I replied, “I just have four sets of homework a day, instead of getting a huge bulk of them every day.”
“Yeah, but, you’re spending the entire day at school until dinner,” Izilandor tried to point out, “doesn’t that give only a small amount of time to do homework?”
“What do you mean? There’s plenty of time to do it during our passing periods and our homeroom,” I told her, “plus, there’s the fact that the homework is basically due in three days.”
“But what about after school activities?” Izilandor brought up, “wouldn’t that be hard to do if school ended at dinner?”
“That’s what weekends are for, right?’ I tilted my head, when the kitchen door opened once more.
With a server’s plate, the waiter from earlier approached our table. Only realizing this now, I noticed that the restaurant lacked any other customers. Paying attention to the time, I realized that may be due to the fact that we were an hour early from the normal time that people were dismissed for lunch from work.
As the waiter became closer, the view of the teacups on the plate became visible. He lowered it from his eye level to a height that matched the table we sat in, once he reached us, continuing to set the cups in front of us. They had steaming cups of green tea in them, just calming me with its smell.
“Here are your teas, I’ll be back with your chicken katsu in a bit,” he informed, leaving the way he came.
Immediately taking a sip from her teacup, Izilandor parted the rim of the cup from her lips and let out a long sigh. “Ahh,” she went.
Saving my tea for after the actual meal arrived, I pushed the conversation to go in the direction I’d been waiting for, “So what’s the magical academy like?”
“Oh, it doesn’t have any weird things like yours does, we just do two sets of eight classes,” Izilandor answered, “That way, we can keep up with other subjects, even when studying the different schools of magic.”
“But that’s sixteen classes,” I pointed out, “that’s even more than my twelve.”
"Well, but, it's different," Izilandor reasoned, "we swap the schedules every week."
"How does that make it different," I asked, "isn't that still stressful?"
"It's only as stressful as school can be," Izilandor replied, "after a while of it, you just get used to the schedule."
"I guess, people are really good at adapting," I muttered, "what kinds of classes do you attend?"
"Oh, you know, the usual," Izilandor answered, "the schools of the basic classes like destruction and illusion, then the elemental classes like fire and darkness, there's the runic classes which are just boring, along with the enchanting classes which can easily be replaced by the other schools, like spell alteration which has us study how to change the way a spell works, and we have basic control, magic history, and magic appliance in the real world."
After a bit of silence for me to consume all of her words, I responded with, "so that's 'the usual?' My head's hurting just trying to keep a mental note of all that stuff, how do you do remember all that?"
"Uh, well," Izilandor went with, "really good studying?" as an answer.
Right as I deadpanned in response to Izilandor's answer, the kitchen door creaked opened once more, and the smell of breaded chicken spread through our general area with a stronger force. I couldn't take a breath without smelling the food we were being delivered.
"Your food is now ready," the server announced, placing the golden brown chicken cuts in front of us, "enjoy your meal."
"Thank you very much," Izilandor thanked the waiter, "let's eat, Quinta!"
Staring at the barbecue sauce-covered chicken, I grabbed the metal fork from the utensils provided by the waiter. Steam rose from the exposed meat from the chicken and the heaping pile of rice right next to it.
Being presented with unfamiliar food made me second-guess how I should eat it. Three main ways popped into my head, and that would be eating things in a certain combination, eating things separately, or eating things all together in one chomp...which Izilandor did.
"This is so good!" she sung, the second after she swallowed, and a second before she stuffed her mouth once more. Then she gave herself another break to ask me, "Don't you think so, Quinta?"
"Yeah..." I responded, even though I hadn't taken a bite of the food yet.
Since Izilandor ate with big bites whatever could fit on her fork, I decided that I would do something similar. Of course, I wouldn't be as messy as her. Instead of haphazardly raking food with my fork, I calmly scooped up some rice and stabbed into a piece of the chicken. I made sure that my food would have an even balance of meat and rice, to satisfy my taste buds in the best way possible.
Taking my first bite, the juicy chicken's taste flooded into my mouth, as it crunched on the crust of the breaded chicken. The barbecue mixed with the rice, keeping my mouth slightly moist, as the flavor broke through my tastes.
"This is good," I said, and proceeded to begin stabbing and scooping through my food to prepare another forkful of food to be brought into my mouth.
"Heheh, you see why this is my favorite place?" Izilandor grinned, "Why don't we come here more often?"
"Yeah..." I mumbled, "let's."
Looking at Izilandor's smiling face, I thought about my first reaction to her at the train station. The first thing I did was try to get away from her, despite our history together. Granted, I had just committed a crime then, but still. It actually ended up being nice to get together with her again.
---
"How about I take you on a tour in Reuben's Academy, and you can show me around the prestigious school?" Izilandor proposed, "They take visitors over there, right?"
Izilandor and I left from the building, very full from our filling meal. The chicken katsu, apple pie, green tea, and ice cream had very fulfilling properties when it came to eating them. The sun still shined overhead, and a crowd began to grow around us.
Lunch breaks have started all around, and if they could afford it, a lot of people came out to the outskirts of the city just for some food at the restaurant Izilandor brought me to. All the people walking around us made it a lot harder to navigate, but Izilandor weaved through the crowd with ease.
"Yes, my school takes visitors," I responded, "I think it would be great to visit our school's."
I smiled, facing Izilandor. She too beamed. It was a shame that we were separated for so long, but we could make up for that lost time. Or at least, that's what I'd been thinking.
But then the sun went out.