Ishikawa Hideaki

[Stuffz]

Water. He opened his eyes.
The blue shades of ocean water surrounded him. Where was he?
Below him, he saw black depths, anonymity and invisiblity. It seemed warm and safe, a place to hide, a place to sleep, a place to forget. He smiled.
Above him, there was light. Bright and harsh, it hurt his eyes. From there he'd come. He had been thrown into this liquid world, floating indecisively in a sea of hesitation. Who had done this?
He didn't know and wasn't in the least concerned by that.
A quiet and pleasant humming filled the blue water. Someone, or something, was there with him. He extended his arms and drifted towards the source of this euphonic music. Everything would become alright. Eveything would make sense. It was so peaceful there. The sound intensified, the liquid around him started to gain a purple glow. He would meet the other one soon.
But then something changed.
There was rumbling in the distance and the world started to shake. His head began to hurt as the light from above started to burn brighter. The humming was gone. He heard voices as the blue and purple colors faded, one of them so oddly familiar, but strange in his ears now. She..
The noise grew louder and he backed away.

Air. He panicked.
The urge for oxygen had returned to him. Struggling, he floated towards the light. All the comfort and warmth of this place was now gone, all that was left was the wish to reach the surface. He hesitated.
And broke through the surface.

He held the cup of tea tightly and studied the enigmatic person sitting on the other side of the table. A dream.
A restaurant on New Tokyo, he could feel the hands on his shoulders. When had that been?
Home, two wooden swords leaning against the wall. Where had the wielders gone?
A steel corridor, a broken ship. Shared meals and laughter. Just why did he make it fly again?
He was standing on the bridge of a large ship, asteroids passing them. The person he so respected smiled. Another day survived.
Hot sand beneath his feet, the warm sun in his face. A happy place for unhappy times.
A cave on the shore, smooth rock and cold water. The wet moss between his fingers.
Refuge.

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