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Takumi wakes, and wonders if he is dreaming. There is no heavy burden pressing down on him, no duty or obligation he can remember – only a cool, soothing breeze, soft grass beneath him, and a white sky covered in patches of blue above him. He closes his eyes and wonders if he can stay there in that blissful space forever, even though it’s getting harder to ignore that nagging voice at the back of his head – a strange combination of his own and those of a man and four women that he feels he should recognize – telling him that it can’t be that simple.
So he sits up with a long, weary sigh. Nothing aches when he moves, and there are no bruises or scabs that demand his attention. Around him are stone ruins, somehow regal and profound, broken and worn down by layers of overgrown foliage as they are. The voices in his head grow louder, whispering that there is somewhere he must go, something important he must do before it is too late.
And then, he sees the man sitting next to him. He’s not a young man by any means – not with the wrinkles and laugh lines collecting around his eyes and mouth, and the wisps of silvery hair held in place by a black crown. His deep purple eyes are by no means soft, but they sparkle with a sort of kindness that puts Takumi instantly at ease.
Takumi blinks slowly, dazedly at him. “Do I know you?”
The man turns to smile at him. “Perhaps.” His voice is strong and commanding, deep and smooth – not familiar in the slightest, though it reminds him of something that makes him feel safe. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had company,” says the man, “though it pains me to say that I hoped this day would never come.”
Logically, Takumi knows that such a statement should offend him, but there is no malice or hostility in the man’s voice. Instead, the man’s smile becomes strained, sad. “Tell me,” he says. “What is your name?”
“Takumi.” He wonders if, were this any other occasion, there would be more to say than just his name – but for now, just “Takumi” is enough.
The man bows his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Takumi,” he says kindly, gently. “My name is Garon.”
They walk together. Garon never mentions where they are going, but Takumi can’t bring himself to care. “Takumi,” Garon says seconds, minutes, hours into their excursion, “can you tell me about your family?”
It feels strange, being forced to talk, and Takumi finds that he would much rather listen to the man speak instead. His memories are fuzzy, though he logically knows that they shouldn’t be. “I have… an older brother,” he says slowly. “An older sister… and a younger sister, too. And…” Something heavy and uncomfortable settles in his chest. “… a mother too, but she’s gone…”
Garon hums, perhaps more to himself than to Takumi. “I had a wife, once. And then, after she passed away, there was another. Between them was… well, not a small number of women, and perhaps more children than you can count!” He sighs, and his eyes narrow. “Although… in the end, only five of those children survived.”
“Survived?” Takumi echoes.
Garon flashes him a small, strained smile. “It’s an old story,” he says. “One of my many, many mistakes… and, if I’m being perfectly honest, a rather significant part of what drove me here.”
That heavy, uncomfortable feeling in Takumi’s chest suddenly grows painfully worse. “Wait…” he mumbles. “There was… there were two more sisters. Both of them older than me. One of them was… taken away from us a long time ago, and the other was brought to us not long afterward.” Long hair as blue as the ocean, a gentle voice always singing…
And then, something pulses painfully in Takumi’s head. He staggers backward, and Garon steadies him by gripping his arm. “Are you all right?” Takumi swallows and nods. The pain in his head has already started to recede, but there’s none of the peaceful bliss from before this conversation. Instead, there’s the sickeningly familiar pang of anxiety that turns his stomach and makes it difficult for him to breathe.
Garon releases him slowly, his hand sliding slowly down Takumi’s arm, as they continue to walk as if nothing has changed. “One of my daughters in particular… I feel that I hurt her very badly, by not protecting her as well as I should have.”
Takumi scoffs. “That is not your fault,” he says. “If your daughter wanted your help, she would have asked for it.”
Garon shakes his head, smiling sadly. “Not this one. She would always keep everything to herself… and she was always alone, if she wasn’t with her mother.”
The next tug at Takumi’s memory isn’t quite so painful. “One of my sisters is like that, too,” he says, smiling to himself. “She needs her alone time, you see. Very badly.” He chuckles, suddenly. “My younger sister and I – whenever we wanted to avoid parties and meetings with a lot of people, we’d run to her and ask her to help us.”
Garon chuckled. “And did you succeed?”
“Sometimes,” Takumi answered, “though our older brother would often force us to go anyway.” He thinks of that sister, singing a familiar melody on a simple “ah” vowel, but there are words to this song that he can’t remember. “I… should have been kinder to her, too,” Takumi admits quietly. “She was… different from us, and I treated her badly because of it… because I didn’t trust her.” His brow knots together, and he clenches his fists. “I… should apologize to her.” They’ve stopped walking once more, though nothing looks different from when Takumi first awakened – the same stone ruins, the same grass beneath his feet, the same white sky with patches of blue – though it feels like they’ve been walking forever.
Garon sighs. “I’m waiting for someone, you know,” he says, his voice suddenly heavy. “I need to apologize to her… because if only I’d worked harder and taken action, Azura wouldn’t have had to suffer. Everyone would have lived…” He trails off with another sigh. “There is so much I should have done, back then… but my mind was not my own.”
Another shock of pain pulses through Takumi’s head. This one brings a much more frightening image – his mother dying suddenly in an explosion that is no accident, a large white dragon whose claws bring waves of water with every slash…
“If you hadn’t come back into our lives, Hoshido would still be at peace. Mother… all those innocent townspeople… they would all still be alive. They wouldn’t have…”
Takumi blinks slowly – at Garon, and then at his own hands. “I need to apologize, too…” he whispers. “To my other sister… but there’s no time. I can’t wait for her here.”
Garon nods. “Because whatever it is that you did, your mind was not your own.”
Takumi shakes his head. “That’s still no excuse. I let it get to that point, so I’m still responsible.”
Garon smiles sadly – and insanely, Takumi wonders if such a man could truly be the monstrous Nohrian king that murdered his father and kidnapped his sister. “Then it seems that you and I are the same.”
The memories flood back at once – or maybe they were never truly gone to begin with. There’s none of the peaceful bliss there was before, but there’s no time to miss it – there’s no way Takumi can guiltlessly embrace it if he doesn’t push forward and at least try to make things right. “I have to go,” he says breathlessly.
Garon smiles at him and nods. “Good luck.”
And so Takumi turns and runs – runs until his lungs scream for air, until his legs ache so badly that he can barely remain upright. In his hands, the Fujin Yumi materializes for what he knows will be the last time.
And then, when he stops, his sister stands before him. Behind her, his mother and Ryoma. “Takumi?” she gasps.
Suddenly, it occurs to him that this is going to be the last time he’ll get to talk to her like this. He smiles sadly and tries very, very hard not to cry. “It’s been a long time, Big Sister.”