A Dreadful Decision

“Touch is the first language mothers teach their children. They are taught to cradle flowers, not crush them; hug loved ones, not punch them; and above all, consider whether someone would appreciate your touch or not. It is an unconscious behavior for every citizen in the country of Lade.”

—Robin Benz

My knuckles are turning white. If they stay in a fist and under my crossed arms, nobody should accidentally brush up against them, right? I know this logically, but something sharp and blistering keeps prickling my limbs.

“Haruki, just breathe. In for four, out for eight. That’s what your therapist found works for you, right?” Mom’s voice whispers in my mind. She would stay next to me until choked gasps became watery, even breaths.

Her voice blurs behind the light splash of pond water. Her face smears into that of a white fish’s, frozen, sinking, disappearing—

“Don’t touch me,” I mutter to the child that accidentally bumps into my knee. “Don’t get close.”

Hands, a mother’s hands I suppose, curl around the child’s armpits. Her fingertips brush against my elbow.

“Don’t!”

The mother picks up her child and disappears into the sea.

I blink hard and rapidly. Where is Mirei? Where is Roo? Am I alone? All I see are waves of strangers toppling and crashing over me, not snarled short hair or tan elf ears. We must have gotten separated already from the sheer density of the crowd. I need to get off this suffocating road and beside a landmark of some kind. If I don’t, I will drown. I look around frantically, searching for something tall and eye-catching.

There, just ahead, like a lone island poking of the ocean, is that massive water fountain I had noticed before at the gates. I stumble toward it, stepping on leather boots and the edge of a dress. Ducking my head to avoid the sneering, I dart forward on every patch of blessed free cobble my feet can find. My gaze is glued onto that water fountain. It’s the only place where no people care to gather. They walk around it, maybe glance at it, wipe off water that squirts onto them, but nothing more. Yet to me, the spray of droplets feels like liquid diamond.

My sight of the water fountain gets blocked, however, with the appearance of a person standing right in front of it. His neck is straining with the effort of looking in my direction. It’s Roo, who wanted to gaze at the fountain, but saw me instead and wasn’t looking away. Later, I wonder just how crazy the expression on my face must have been for him to stretch out his arms, open and wide to catch me.

I stumble close, enough for him to wrap his hands around my trembling shoulders, but before he is able to touch me, I step to the side of him.

When I finally lay numb fingertips on smooth stone, I sigh in great relief. My body deflates, hunching over the base enough so that my face reflects in the glimmering pool below. Cobbled and spotted elbows still knock against my back, but at least I can face away from them and breathe. Calm makes its way back into me and slows my heart. The world returns to its festive energy full of sunlight and swaying trees. I’m no longer drowning, but I’m afraid to make someone else sink. My touch could spell their death.

“Haruki, there you are,” Roo says to me. This is all he says before letting his hands fall back to his sides and onto the stone edge of the water fountain. I’m glad he doesn’t say anything more.

“Brother’s here? Good,” a high voice sighs in relief. It’s unmistakably my little sister’s. “I can’t believe how many people are out and about! We instantly got separated. Jeez, no one is afraid to cut between two people to get around.”

“Yes, is that not the custom where you come from?” Roo aims the question at me, for whatever incomprehensible reason of his. I only reply when my face reflects a neutral expression in the water.

“It’s not. Everyone minds their own business and rarely intrudes upon others’ personal bubble.”

Mirei nods. Roo shakes his head. “I’m surprised— touch is such a common occurrence here that I can’t imagine going even an hour without it.”

Oh, God. Those words ring in my ears like gunshots. I will have to be very careful until I learn how to deal with this curse of mine. I must avoid playful punches, comforting back rubs, head pats, hand-holding—

I must avoid the pleasant customs that connect people and shoo away loneliness. I will hide my hands away because, yes, I can live without those things. I’ve known loneliness for much of my childhood. I am used to it. As long as Mirei stays with me. If it really gets unbearable, I have her—

But what if my hands can freeze her, too? The only reason I thought that it’s just the things of this world that are threatened by my touch is because I haven’t frozen Mirei… yet. However, if I think about things more thoroughly, I have indeed touched other living things of this world too, and they haven’t frozen in time. Whatever it is that’s afflicting me seems to act up at random, or I just can’t figure out when it does and doesn’t act up.

Alright, I think emotionlessly. Then I just won’t let my hands near her. Her presence is enough. Human contact isn’t necessary. As long as we stay together with Roo, his watchful eye will protect us from threats.

With this decision branded in my heart, I straighten myself and turn to face Roo and Mirei. They look at me with a bit of concern, but other than that, they appear ready to continue ahead. We came here to meet that craftswoman, after all. I believe Roo said her name was Arenah.

“Are we ready to go, then?” I say.

Roo stands back up, too. “Yes, but I want to connect us with magic. This way, you Takahashi siblings can find me quickly if something comes up again.”

Roo’s pointer finger rises toward me. Instantly, I flinch back.

Roo’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong? I just told you, I’m simply connecting us with magic. No harm.”

I tuck my hands into my pockets. “I’m fine. I wasn’t listening, sorry.”

The lies come quickly and easily. Roo only tilts his head almost imperceptibly before touching his finger to my chest—the same spot as before by the pond—and closes his eyes. The sensation of a clamp loosely attaching to my heart washes over me.

“Alright, it’s done. Mirei next.”

He does the same to her. Then, he tells us sternly, “Try not to stray too far. If you get lost and want to find me, you will feel a tugging sensation in my direction. However, if you are more than one ude’s distance from me, the connection will be lost.”

I cock my head to the side. “How big is an ude?”

Roo brings his hand to his chin, the picture of contemplation. He hums and haws for a great deal of time before finally coming out with: “Remember when we first transported from the tree trunk to the air? The distance we were from the ground was about one ude.”

When we were that high up, the bridge below looked to be the size of my palm. Perhaps about half a kilometer? I think. Roo begins walking away, this time toward the edge of the main road. Mirei and I huddle close to him. My hands stay in my pockets as we navigate the bustling village.