Wasn't it a lovely war? {Yao's Antique Shop} [Open to Sakura]

It was a slow day, though most days were slow when you worked in an antique shop. It wasn't really a place where people came to visit on the off chance for an impulse purchase, unless they were too rich for their own good, so Yao was left with nothing to do. He leaned on his counter, bored out of his mind re-reading this Chinese newspaper for the second time. It was good practice, especially as he didn't get to speak much Chinese on a daily basis, but it wasn't exactly interesting to read.

He'd managed to keep himself busy earlier, rearranging stock in the back room, moving around boxes pointlessly and finding old junk that he might be able to put out. It was in the process of cleaning up that he found a box, tucked away in a dark corner that he hadn't touched in years. In it he found his uniform from the Great War. It had been so long since he'd seen it, he thought he might have lost it or accidentally sold it, but no, it was here in tact (well, as much as it could be after over 80 years). He kept a lot of his personal items here in the back of the shop, as there simply wasn't enough room in his apartment for all the lifetimes' worth of stuff he'd accumulated, so he wasn't surprised to find his uniform here. There were sewed up bullet-holes all over it and a couple of faint bloodstains that wouldn't come out no matter how many times he'd washed it, and his helmet had countless dents and scratches and holes from the shrapnel. It wasn't exactly 'fun' to look at it and remember all the things that had happened, but it was something to do, something for his mind to focus on.

He'd put it aside after a while and gone to the front of the shop to read and wait for customers, the thoughts of the uniform and the memories that went along with it pushed to the back of his mind for now.

Sakura had been at the newspaper all day, while they tried to get the next issue ready to go to the presses for the next day. They'd given her extra articles to look over and she'd had a little trouble, since today her English was feeling a little shaky and she was worried that she'd let something obvious go through. It had been very tiring and frustrating, she'd had to look them over a lot longer than she normally would have.

Finally though, she was walking back home, looking forward to a good cup of tea and something to relax with. She passed the antique shop and paused. It was empty (as usual, if she was honest) so there couldn't be any harm in going in. She liked the owner, Mr Wang. He was kind, polite and very nice to her and she found his shop interesting. They both shared the same enjoyment of history.

She opened the door and looked around. "Hello, Mr Wang." She smiled pleasantly, walking towards the counter. After all these years, she still called him Mr Wang or sometimes Wang-san. "How are you?" She asked, bowing her head politely.

Yao looked up when he heard the bell above the door chime, and smiled broadly when he saw who'd come in. "Ah, Xiaojie!" He said, straightening up and closing his newspaper. Though they'd known each other for several years now, he'd been brought up to be respectful to others, and only use names with those one is particularly close with. Sakura was a regular... well, not a customer exactly, as she rarely bought anything, but a regular guest in his shop nonetheless. He quite liked her; she was always respectful and polite, and she showed such interest in his antiques and the history of each item he sold. She was an interesting young lady, and it was nice having her around.

"I'm fine, thank you." He nodded in reply to her little bow. "And you? You look quite tired." Poor girl always seemed rushed off her feet. She seemed far too young to be living on her own. He thought if he had a daughter her age, he'd be mad with worry letting her work and live and study in London all by herself.

She inclined slightly in a bow of greeting. She hurried closer, to look around the store. "It has been a long day. I was working at the newspaper and they were rushing me a lot." She said, but not wishing to complain to him or be an annoyance, she stopped there. Mr Wang was very kind to her and he always made sure to look after her if she was in a bad way. Once when she'd had bad flu he'd even come to check on her and made her some soup. Alright, he'd only checked up on her beacuse she'd seen him earlier in the day and she'd been running a fever and she'd had to run away from him to throw up in the bin but still, he hadn't been oblidged to check on her later.

"Do you have anything in new?" She asked, looking at the glass display cases at the front of the shop where the shiniest trinkets that people were most likely to buy were kept. She'd seen most of them before, but it was always good to look around and as she progressively learned more about Asia she understood the symbolism around them more. Today, her eyes picked out a jade hair pin that was particularily fine. How pretty, it was such a shame that it would be bought by a man with more money than sense for a wife that didn't appreciate it.

Her fingers pressed against the metal edges of the case so she didn't smudge the glass. She needed to take off the paint from her nails or replace it, it was beginning to crack and look rather messy. She couldn't have it look scruffy.

"Oh dear." He sighed. She was so young and looked so fragile sometimes, he really didn't like the idea of her having to look after herself. She should get a boyfriend or a husband to take care of her, he thought, knowing he was being very old-fashioned, but that's how it is when you're over a century old.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not, but I'm going to China in a few months to look for some new things to sell." He only went to China every few years, as it was expensive and tiring and such an effort to attain a visa (especially with documentation as sketchy as Yao's) and he mostly bought his stock at auctions or from other antique traders. All the same, it was nice to get to go back to China now and again, especially since transport had improved so much and things were calmer politically speaking. Suddenly, he remembered the uniform in the back-room. It wasn't the usual thing he stocked, and he knew Sakura was mostly interested in Asian things, but she was a historian of sorts so he thought she might at least like to get a look at a real uniform from the Great War, not just in a glass cabinet at the Imperial War Museum. "However, I have just unearthed something old that I've had lying around for a long time." He offered. He noticed her admiring something in one of the display cases and came over to see what had caught her attention. "Ah, the hairpin." He smiled. It was delicately carved from very pale, almost opaque jade, with beautiful lattice work and carved flowers. "Qing Dynasty, late 18th Century, under Qianlongdi. It's pretty, isn't it?"

“Oh, well do have fun.” She would like to visit China, she had not been able to, despite the fact that it could probably only aid her education. Still, Yao had been most helpful, he knew a lot about Chinese history, as one would expect, being a dealer of Chinese antiques. “It’s very pretty. I think it is a shame that it probably won’t be bought by someone who really does appreciate it. Most people will just think of it as a pretty trinket.” She said with a hint of distain. Rich people often had more money than sense. “I look forward to seeing what you bring back.” She secretly hoped he would bring her a souvenir, but it would be impolite to ask.

She looked at him, smiling politely, “So, where is this ‘something old’ that you have unearthed?” It sounded rather interesting, if a bit vague. Mysterious, one could perhaps say.

"Thank you! I'm sure I will." He was looking forward to it; he was going to stay there for just over a month and he'd be travelling all over China, from Beijing to Nanjing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Xian, Taipei, Hong Kong, even going as far as Urumqi in the most western part of the country.

He nodded sadly "I'm afraid that's likely to be the case. But it will do more good to a nice young lady as an accessory than here like an exhibit, I suppose." He wondered if he could find a hairpin like this one for Sakura while he was there. Not identical, of course, as this one was worth several hundred pounds, and he couldn't afford to buy such an expensive gift, but something just as pretty. Or maybe she'd like something more historical and relevant to her studies?

He smiled back. "I'll just go and get it." He went to the back room and quickly returned with the box containing his uniform. He set it down on the counter and opened it up to show her. It smelt musty and very old, but so did most things in his shop. "A British soldier's uniform from the First World War." He announced proudly.

She tilted her head curiously, going over to the box and looking in. It smelled like it had been kept in a very aerated environment and had been very well worn, but it looked like it was in a very good condition, considering. She held out her hands to the box, “May I?” She asked, waiting for confirmation before carefully picking up the jacket, laying it out on the counter so she could inspect it a little more. There were a few moth holes but not many, and it could easily be patched up, theoretically.

She inspected the cuffs, which still had the original (or so she assumed) buttons attached, and they weren’t too frayed. She swallowed, she was starting to feel a little on edge, though she didn’t know why. She assumed she was just tired and ignored it. She laid out the whole of the uniform along the counter carefully, making sure not to manhandle it too much. It wasn’t really in a fit state for a museum, not one of the bigger ones, but made a fascinating study. You could learn a lot about someone from their clothes and how well they looked after them, she thought. This person who had owned it had obviously looked after this meticulously.

He was also a small person, slim and short like Yao was or even her. Perhaps it had belonged to an Asian-British family, which is how it had come to his hands. She’d known of families, when they moved, to sell most of the possessions, so this could have been acquired through that, along with objects for sale. “Where exactly did you acquire this?” It wasn’t his specialty, being British, so she was curious.

She held up the jacket, a little too curious. The lining was very smooth, but it still didn’t look like it would be very comfortable. Or warm. She wondered what it was like to wear it, and to be in that situation, she couldn’t even imagine it. But she at least had access to the uniform here, she could see a little slice of what it was like. “Wang-san, would you mind if I… tried it on?” She asked meekly. Of course, it could well too delicate to wear, but Yao had been alright with the hair pin being worn, and that was much older…

He nodded, giving her permission to take the uniform out of the box. It was in better condition than he'd expected it to be, which pleased him. She treated it so delicately, which was almost funny considering everything it had been through. He doubted anything Sakura could do to it would cause it any more damage than all the bullets and shrapnel and barbed wire that had torn through it. Besides, he had no intention of selling it, so he wasn't too concerned with keeping it pristine.

"Oh, uh, I don't remember how I got it." He lied. "Things like this just tend to pop up in this business." He laughed. For having had to cover his tracks for so many years, he wasn't the best liar, but he doubted she'd pick up on it.

He was a little surprised by her request, but nodded anyway. "If you'd like to, go ahead." He smiled. He wasn't sure why she wanted to try on an old uniform, all moth bitten and bloodstained and torn, but she could be a little odd, and he found her curiosity somewhat endearing.

She bowed her head slightly, “Thank you.” She said, carefully putting it behind her back so she could slip her arms through. She barely had time to notice the feel of the rough cotton on her wrists and throat, or the lining of the jacket, or the weight of the thick fabric. In an instant, everything went black.

Then, in a sudden moment, she was pressed in with other people. She looked down at her hands, they were dirty, and her nails were untrimmed and a little cracked, like she hadn’t had time to clean them in a while. She realized she was wearing the full uniform, with all the things that went with it. It was heavy on her back and shoulders. Her heart beat quickly, she felt scared. They were moving, walking, and people were saying things. Her feet were cold and her breath hung in the air. She was someone else, she knew that for certian.

The scenes twisted in front of her, playing all at once. She was in a trench… it was cold, sometimes it was wet and icy water was up to her knees. Everywhere itched, her fingers were numb. Suddenly it sharpened, and she was panting, her mouth tasted bitter, of fear. There was a whistle and she had to move, she was running, through mud. Smelt like death, there was gun powder everywhere. She had a gun, and she would sometimes fire it, but she was shooting blindly.

And then pain, burning pain in her stomach. She looked down and there was blood seeping over the uniform. But she kept running, even though she was getting slower, her stomach tightening. Until she couldn’t move, the pain was too great. She fell in to the mud, pain, such pain. There was barbed wire caught on her leg, When had that been there? She felt, instantly, that it was somewhere different, a different time. Another shot caught her, in her shoulder, while she was standing, but it wasn't enough to make her fall, like the one in her stomach. The barbed wire caught in her leg however was so painful. There was a bomb, or a shell, which exploded close to her, her ears ringing. The shot caught her in the head, and she was bleeding... everwhere was blood, was pain. It overlapped, there were scenes playing together, at the same time, twisting, together. She knew them all so clearly, saw them as singulars, but they were so obviously together.

Suddenly she was in a trench, relaxing with someone. A bell sounded, and she knew what it meant. Gas attack. No time to grab at the mask, and blinding pain. It filled her nose, burning her lungs and her eyes, she couldn't see, she couldn't breathe, she fell to the floor, hands grasping, twitching. A scream ripped from her burning lungs, starting slowly and getting louder and louder, until everything was screaming, even as her ears bled from bombs, she could hear it, ripping through all the scenes.

And all together, she died. In the mud, in the trench, in the hospital bed, the burning fires, the shrapnel. So much pain, so different, but still all just so cold. Cold and lonely, there was nobody else. And altogether it was empty, and all together it was black again, nothingness. Death.

In reality she was lying on the floor, limbs tense and twitching, her mouth open in a wide 'o' as she screamed, the sound peircing reality, her face distended in pain, her skin blanched with horror. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing, her body reacting to every touch, jerking away in a panicked response and hitting blindly. The scenes continued to play in her mind, her body remained on the floor. Her heart beat twice its normal rate.

It felt strange to see Sakura wearing his old uniform. For the first time in many years it stopped being a relic and became something practical once again, something which had really served some kind of purpose. He expected her to say something, to comment on the jacket, to ask him more about the uniform, but she was silent. In fact, she looked positively distraught. "Hey, Xiaojie, are you feeling all right?" He asked in a concerned tone; perhaps she was ill, like that time before when she'd suddenly felt sick in his shop. If that was the case she should probably go home. He knew they were working her too hard at her job, poor girl! But before he'd even offered to help her, he was shocked to see her suddenly fall to the ground. "Xiaojie!" He cried, rushing from behind the register to her.

She was convulsing on the floor, her face contorted in horror and she was screaming in pain. He had no idea what to do, what had caused this. The way she was acting reminded him of how people reacted to an overdose of opium, it was frightening. "Tian le..." He wondered if he should call an ambulance, or at least try and stop her fit. But how do you do that? "Sakura!" He didn't know what good calling her name would do, but better than standing here doing nothing. "Sakura, snap out of it! Can you hear me?" She didn't seem to be responding. Her eyes were wide open, but it seemed like she couldn't see or hear anything. He tried shaking her shoulder to see if it would get a reaction, but she just continued to shake and twitch, jerking away from his touch.

It was then that he was struck by an odd thought; Sakura also lived at Gracefield House, so maybe she'd been affected by the lightning too. If so, could this be an effect of it? Her fit had started once she'd put his jacket on, and as illogical as it sounded, perhaps the jacket was the cause. He wouldn't normally use such irrational reasoning, but he thought it might at least be worth trying to take the jacket off her and see if that improved the situation at all. If not, he'd call an ambulance straight away, but if this was an effect of the lightning he didn't want Sakura taken away to an asylum or a hospital and analysed and interrogated because of it. So with some difficulty (and shame and embarrassment on his part because it's so improper to touch a woman too much) he managed to manoeuvre the army jacket off Sakura in the hopes that whatever was happening would stop.

Suddenly, there was warmth again, she was back in her own body. Her body felt so weak, so drained, and she could still feel the mud up to her knees, the lights burned her eyes. Her stomach still hurt as if she had really been shot and her hand went to her stomach, pressing against the light fabric of her shirt to make sure she wasn't really bleeding. There was no blood on her fingers. She barely noticed Yao above her, and she was too much in shock to care about his proximity.

She found that she was crying, the tears rolling down her face silently, then breathlessly, the sobs came from her stomach, wracking her already pained body. It must have just been a dream, a horridly vivid dream. She felt sick to her stomach, and she reached out, her hands shaking. She felt weak and empty, trying to pull herself away. She saw the images in her mind, more detatched now but so real and still personal. She was disgusted. Part from shock, part from horror and disgust, and part the sickness this all had caused, she threw up, shuddering, until her whole body felt empty and exhausted. She only had time to roll away before she went back to crying, so much that she couldn't breathe.

He was so relieved when Sakura's fit stopped. He sighed heavily, silently giving thanks that she was all right, or at least not quite as bad as she had been. That said, she still looked terribly shaken; there were tears rolling down her cheeks and it sounded like she was having a hard time breathing. She was touching her stomach weirdly, as if she was looking for something that wasn't there. "Sakura, what's wrong? What just happened?" He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" Clearly she wasn't, as her quiet crying had gradually escalated into breathless sobbing, making her body shake. He was honestly worried for her; she was so small and dainty, it felt like she might break from the strain of whatever she was going through. It became clear how badly she'd been affected when she began to throw up. "Aiyah..." He frowned in concern as she turned away and continued sobbing. He still didn't know what had happened to her, but it seems it was very distressing for her. He went back to his register and found a clean cotton handkerchief and returned to her with it. He awkwardly got her to sit up, as it would help her if she was having trouble breathing and would hopefully stop her crying. "Xiaojie, please calm down." He tried to sound calm himself, as it would do her no good if he sounded panicked.

She sobbed, her hands shakily reaching out towards Yao. She didn't care that usually, she found contact really uncomfortable, she was just so scared, so desperate for some kind of contact that she found him and held on to him. She hugged him tightly as he made her sit up, her head burying in to his shoulder. "I-It was so...." She sobbed, gasping, "I was so scared...it was so realistic..." She closed her eyes, trying not to remember. She rocked slightly, to try and calm herself.

"I was in a trench, it was cold." She finally said. "It was so... wet a-and..." She was hiccuping and generally messy, makeup running down her face. "I died... they shot me..." She pulled away and pressed a finger to her stomach, where the first gunshot had hit. "And here..." She listed all the different shots she had felt. They still hurt, she still could hardly believe she wasn't bleeding and dying. "I watched men die... once one died in my arms. And the gas..." She took a rasped intake of breath, and it hurt. "It smelled so sharp... it burned... I couldn't see... I died... I died so much..." She couldn't breathe, crying so much.

Yao wasn't exactly one for physical contact, but he knew that Sakura wasn't either and she seemed so upset that he really didn't mind when she wrapped her arms around him. He brought one arm around to gently stroke her back, hoping he could calm her down somewhat. He had a feeling she was in need of a lie down and a good cup of tea, or perhaps something stronger. He listened to what she said intently, wanting to know exactly what had happened, and relieved she was up to talking again. "What was it? What was so realistic?" Had it been a dream, a trance?

He stayed silent as she described what she'd seen, or rather felt and heard and... it was all far too close to his own memories to be considered a coincidence. He looked where she pointed as she pulled back to show him where she had been 'shot'. Those scars he'd had from the same bullets tingled and burned as she 'remembered' them. And then she mentioned dying more than once, or at least that's what it implied. Yao didn't know how it was possible, but for some reason putting that jacket on had shown her his memories of the trenches, clearly far too vividly. "Xiaojie." He sighed, taking the handkerchief and drying the tears from her cheeks (and subtly wiping away some vomit from her chin, knowing she'd find it embarrassing if she knew it was there). He softly stroked the back of her head in an attempt to be comforting, but also to check for any kind of bump or wound in case she'd hit her head when she fell, but luckily she seemed clear. "Take a deep breath. It's not real." He ordered, though his tone was gentle. "Just breathe and calm yourself."

"I-I," Her chest wracked with the sobs. "I know it's not real... but it felt so... I'm scared." She pulled him closer, needing the comfort. She needed to know someone was there. Someone real, warm and... not dead. She tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths, but she couldn't grasp it, she sounded like a goldfish out of water. He tried to help her feel better, and it worked to an extent, to know that someone cared was important.

"What... I don't know what happened to me." She sobbed, she was so confused. Yao was dabbing at her face, and suddenly her wrist darted out to grab his hand, staring at it. "no, no, it couldn't be..." It was less muddy, the nails were better trimmed, but it was the same hands she'd had in the dream. "It was..." she jerked back, away from him.

"It was you." It sounded insane, but she could not be more sure of it.

The poor thing was so upset, he almost felt responsible for what had happened. "Everything is all right." He reassured her, nodding. "You're fine, you're all in one piece. Don't be scared." He knew this was probably of little comfort to her, but he wanted her to convince herself it was a dream so that she'd stop feeling it so intensely.

He was more than a little shocked when her delicate hand snatched his wrist and she began scrutinising his hand. "What? What's wrong?" He froze as she pulled away from him, looking like the sky had just crashed in on their heads. He couldn't think of what to say for a while, whether to tell her the truth and risk having to erase her memory, or he could simply deny it and say she was seeing things, that she was wound up and didn't know what she was talking about. Eventually he sighed, concluding that after what she'd gone through, she didn't need any more confusion or questions over her mental health, so he wouldn't deny her the truth. "Sakura," He said firmly, taking the tone his father used to when he was going to tell him something important "Do you remember the lightning storm that happened not long ago?" He thought it was better to start off like this rather than leap in immediately with 'I'm immortal and I'm actually 121 years old. Surprise!'

“How can I forget?” She shivered, drawing her hands up to her knees, to protect herself. “Ever since then... there have been whispers.” She admitted, to only the second ever person. She knew she sounded insane, she felt insane herself. She couldn’t seem any stranger than she already appeared, considering what had happened, so why shouldn’t she admit it. She wiped her eyes, her hand weak and shaking. She could hardly hold herself up. She could hardly move. “Strange things have been happening.” She clutched her stomach, trying not to throw up again, her stomach hurt a lot, she didn’t know what would happen if she did throw up, she felt far too empty for that. She swallowed, looking up at him. She was managing to calm down a bit, wiping her face rather gracelessly on her sleeve.

She was beginning to feel a little calmer, so she could properly think. She started to feel the weight of her own embarrassment came down on her. She was curled up on the floor of a shop, clearly displayed to the street, her make up running down her face. She was wearing a skirt today, which was made only slightly less embarrassing by the thick tights. She’d just thrown up over the floor, of – a sort of friend’s – shop. “I’m sorry.” She murmured, her lips shaking slightly from the force of her sobs and mere shock.

"Whispers?" So she'd been feeling strange since the lightning strike, supporting his suspicion that whatever had just happened to her was an effect of the storm. "The storm had... an unprecedented effect on the people in our building." To be fair, he hadn't really spoken to many other residents, only Arthur, but from what he'd experienced before and from what Arthur had implied, they weren't alone. "I think that whatever you just went through most likely has something to do with the storm." He was almost certain, but if it wasn't the case he might have to make her forget it; he trusted Sakura, he really did, but he didn't know her that well honestly, and she worked at a newspaper; what if she let it slip?

He looked down at his hands. She'd only recognised him from his hands, and she'd described actually being shot, feeling the very same things that he had, then he thought she must have experienced his memories from his perspective, in first person. So she took on the memories of the person whose clothes she wore, maybe? He couldn't tell for sure. He shook his head when she apologised. "Don't be silly." He stood up and offered her his hand to help her up too; he doubted she wanted to stay on the shop floor where anyone could see her in her shaken state, so he'd take her to the back room where she could sit down in peace and privacy.

She nodded, but didn’t want to explain what she meant by ‘whispers’. She still was fairly sure that it was proof of some kind of madness and she didn’t really want to give Yao more reasons to send her to Bedlam. Even after talking to Laurinatis-san, who confessed to having similar troubles, she couldn’t help but convince herself that she wasn’t sane. “What do you mean by that?” It sounded, really strange, like something out of one of her manga books, even though she knew this was no story. “I do not understand how a storm could do this...”

He offered her a hand which usually she wouldn’t take, but she was unsure of how well her legs would work and worried her arms would buckle if she tried to lift herself. So she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his hand, the hand that she felt like she knew well now. It was odd to touch it from such an angle, suddenly. Even when she had gotten to her feet, she held on to the hand. She was in an uncharacteristically clingy mood but then, dreaming of your own (or rather, someone else’s) death so vividly that it felt like you were actually dying, she felt she had some leeway in terms of how she acted.

Yao helped her to the back room, where she could sit in a proper chair. She was glad for the small privacy. “I suppose I am acting very strange. I am just trying to come to terms with the fact that now I know how it feels to – die.” She had to swallow in the middle, and the word wouldn’t come out straight away. “But you have died many times, haven’t you?” She looked at his face and for the first time, she felt like she was seeing him properly. “You are so old...”

"It's a little complicated to explain... I'm not sure if even I understand it." He helped her stand up, feeling her small fingers wrap tightly around his hand like a child's. He led her to the back room and offered her an old armchair to sit in. It was comfy, if a little tatty. He wasn't selling it, so he saw no point in getting it reupholstered yet.

Once she'd sat down, Yao went to the kettle to boil some water, then reminded himself he had to clean up the mess in the shop. It would probably leave a stain. Never mind, the carpets were due for a clean soon anyway, and he could always cover it up with a rug until then. He was about to find a dustpan and brush and an old cloth of some kind, but her words made him pause. He needed to straighten out his priorities, clearly. The kettle boiled and he sighed. Tea could wait. He sat down opposite Sakura and thought hard about what he should say.

"It's not a feeling you ever really get used to. I suppose it's because you're not meant to." He shrugged. "I'm sorry that you felt it... I wouldn't wish that experience on anyone." He felt guilty that she'd been forced to experience the same pain and fear that he had. Those Wars had finished decades ago, nobody should have to go through them again, particularly not a young girl like Sakura. "Ah, yes, I am quite old. I'll be 122 in October." He admitted with an awkward smile, wondering how she'd react. But considering what she had just seen, he was sure she wouldn't have too hard a time believing it.

She looked at his face closely. She finally understood that sense she’d always had around him, that he was much older than he appeared. His eyes were not as young as they were supposed to be. “That is true. Very few people survive death, and when they do, usually are not awake to feel the death come upon them.” She found it sad, thinking about how lonely people must feel when they feel their end come upon them. She hoped she would eventually die in her sleep. “Perhaps it is good that they have to live with it.” Poor Yao, Sakura had seen what was merely a slice of his life, death must have come more than just that time. There had been a whole other war for him to die in. She gave him a sad look, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. He must be so lonely.

Her eyes widened slightly. Having been brought up in a culture that honoured its elders and their wisdom. Imagine how much wisdom one would have after 122 years. She inclined her head slightly to show her respect. “You must have a lot of candles on your birthday cake.” She said. He seemed nervous but she was hardly going to disbelieve now. She, on some level, simply knew it to be true, presumably from being in a sense, inside him, in his mind. Sitting in this chair and talking calmly was relaxing her, and she was feeling a lot better now, if still fragile and vulnerable.

“I do not think I will put on any more of your clothes, Wang-san.” She said, but it seemed a little informal after what had just happened. Perhaps that was just the western influence affecting her polite ways.

He nodded in agreement with what she said. Death was just as scary and as painful each time it happened. But at least for others, he imagined, there was a sense of closure, knowing this signified the end, so that even if you were in pain, you could at least feel at peace to some degree, knowing all the suffering and drudgery of life was finally coming to an end. What Yao wouldn't give for that privilege...

Sakura seemed somewhat surprised when he revealed his true age. He chuckled at her comment "I think it would be a fire safety hazard if I had that many candles on a cake." Speaking of which, he was having a hard time remembering when he'd last celebrated his birthday. Not in a long time, that was for sure.

"Ah, no I think it would be better if you didn't." He didn't know why he let her try it on in the first place really, it was such an odd thing to do. "Sakura, has this sort of thing happened to you before?" He asked concernedly. "I don't think this is a unique occurrence. I think you've been affected by the storm, like the others."

She shook her head. “No, Wang-san, I have not had anything like this happen before, ever. I have though... heard things.” She admitted, “I had thought I might be... Since the storm began. It is the eh... pictures.” She said vaguely, “They move.” She was speaking very quietly in embarrassment. She didn’t want to sound insane, but she trusted that he wouldn’t institutionalise her since he had told her the things about his past, about being an immortal.

She was feeling rather stressed, and she wanted to go to the dojo, but she was still feeling rather weak. She didn’t think physically she would be able to fight. She just stretched her hands and wiggled her fingers, to try and get some movement, get the blood pumping. She was waiting for him to say something, to ask for something more.

He didn't think she was mad. He'd known her a couple of years, and she'd always seemed a nice, normal girl. She hadn't had any experiences like this before the lightning, not to his knowledge at least, so he was sure whatever it was that was making her act like this, it was caused by the storm. He nodded, trying to understand what exactly it was.

"The pictures move... in what sense?" It might just be a trick of the light, or her mind playing up from lack of sleep or being overworked, but perhaps she was really seeing something thanks to the storm.