[04 - ONLY ONE TO TAKE]

♁

The spear edges closer in a threat, but I'm too transfixed on his viridian headdress to cower.

"Don't speak my name, woman," the god hisses, and there's that inflexion again; a strange mix of accents. "You don't deserve it."

I'm paralyzed neck down, unable to move. I continue to gape at him dumbly despite his malicious intentions toward us. I have excuses to act this absurdly—the answer to all my misfortunes is mere feet away. I want him more than he wants me dead. 

His foreboding gaze wanders to my baby girl, who took a break from hiding her whimpers into my neck. While the rest of the world is in sunlight, his eyes remain in the storybook darkness. They soften just a little when he seemingly comprehends Mira's discomfort from her inquisitive glance. 

I protectively tighten my arms around Mira and he notices. He eyes his spear vaguely before disarming his aim from me. He still stands towering above us, chin raised to depict the ideal king he was, and all those stony inscriptions painted of him could be lies now that he was here in front of me. As unsettling as his appearance is, I've exhausted all other options. I can feel the mania rise again, I have dispossessed of everything for him. 

He eventually looks away from Mira and considers me, her mother, more closely. 

"Where are you from? Americans?" He demands.

I attempt to move and blink once. Twice. Why was that his first guess? I breathe in quickly; feeling my ears heat up. I can't understand why I'm so uneasy or self-conscious. I have no reason to be because I've done nothing wrong.

"Kyoto," I manage to say, sounding stronger than I felt. The god's curiosity isn't satisfied with my answer so I elaborate using a nautical landmark. "Japan. Past the Atlantic Ocean."

The tension in his eyes eases, but it leaves room for more suspicion. He finally balances on the heels of his feet, gaining on us, and his shifting weight upon the truck's hood makes it whine. My stomach's churning with the words that are in my mouth—help me. Help my Mira. 

Mira burrows her head into my neck to silence a frightened sniffle. I rub the back of her head to comfort her because my baby has nothing to be afraid of. This was the folklore we prevailed in believing all this time. The deity that was going to protect her. 

I take this moment to realize that I have gone and done it. After days of forcing myself to acknowledge K'uk'ulkan's existence, he was here.  Perhaps it's true what they say about feminine energies and manifestations, Colel and I had been so keen on routing out the Atagat, there was mercy in the world for the despairing. The feathered serpent god takes every ounce of my focus, and I want him to listen.  

I can't fathom his interest, but he continues to stare at Mira like she is of vital importance. With every jagged breath of hers, he is intuiting. 

"Go," he orders me, his tone brusque and distinct. As if he is wasting mere words on us. "Go and never come back."

It sinks into me in a heartbeat, my eyes going wide. My immediate refusal is automatic, but by the time I'm done violently shaking my head to clear out the dubiety, the impatient god has drifted off the car and begun walking to the shore in record time.

"No, wait"—I'm unsure about how to address him—"sir! Sir, please!"

I fumble out of the cab, quickly usher Mira back into my arms and hitch her legs around my waist. Now I'm acutely aware that I'm in my underwear with the bath towel hanging like a sash around my hips, which is probably not the best religious attire to be viewed by an unmistakable god. 

The leaves and twigs crunch beneath my feet as I run after him, almost crash into the bushes, and try hard to keep up with his pace. Appa runs behind me, yipping and nipping at Mira's toes. 

Once he reaches the golden arc of the beach, his speed changes. He starts to head straight for the water in an easy jog. 

Instead of following him to the tides, I plant my feet into the sand and shout out to him. 

"Listen to me!" The words simply explode out of me, utterly furious. "You can't turn your back on me! Stop and listen—aah!"

It's too brisk for me to detect, but he turns, seething embers for eyes, and strikes his polished spear, cutting it across, just inches above my head. It was meant to backhand me into discipline, and he's got me cowering and hustling back a few feet. 

"I won't stop myself next time," he snarls. 

Appa barks up at him in return, and a growl intonates deep within him. He can't seem to fight back though. He sees the god as another predator. 

"Appa, quiet," I shush him. 

I take a deep breath to calm down. I am in conversation with a god—there are lines and bounds I cannot cross. I have to remind myself to remain respectful to him since I'm the one who has bothered him. 

"Please." I can't seem to sound angry, I'm still imploring him. "Please help me."

He tilts his head in disbelief. "Help you?"

"Help her," I correct, and touch the back of Mira's head. "My daughter."

He stares at Mira and then back at me, harder and colder. "Help your daughter?"

I nod again, more fiercely. My vision blurs by the onslaught of emotions; his decision to hear me out, the sudden spurt of heartache, and witnessing my whole world being condensed to three letters. Something flickers across his face when he sees my tears, but it's gone before I can notice. 

"She's sick. Very sick." I explain like a routine, and the rest of the words follow in a rush. I can't even get the words out, the pain in my gut astounds me with the power. "She's only a baby. S-she's three. And in so much pain. I can't see her suffer anymore."

He gives a grim suggestion. "Then grant her release. You don't do her any favours by seeking more pain."

A sombre scowl paints my face. "No. Never, I—"

He makes a derisive noise. "Selfish."

I exhaled harshly. 

His voice is low and full of accusations. "Selfish about what's yours. All you surface-dwellers are like that."

"I've got nothing else to live for!" I snap back, sounding like something was stuck in my throat. I can't stand his accusation so I need him to see how transparent my torture is. 

"My home, my heart, my family—it's all my little girl. Only Mira. And if she goes, she won't go alone."

He doesn't have to indicate this to me, I've thought this through. There is no rational justification beyond that. In a world where my daughter didn't exist... I can barely think of the words. The agony would be too immense, and no consolation any god offers would be futile. I could never pretend that the finest happiness and greatest sadness in my life never happened, pick up, move on, and avoid it. I wasn't that bold or clever. So if it had to end, it would end with Mira. 

I wait for him to say something, possibly make up his mind. As the seconds tick by, the forest grows louder, charged with conclusions. 

"Mira," he repeats quietly, breaking my train of thought. I flicked my eyes from his feet to his eyes, which were trained on Mira's raspy breaths. A cuckoo sings from within her every time she edges to collapse, and I hear it now. I hate it. 

"What makes you think I can help you?" he asks.

"I've lost too much, left too much behind. I have nothing to my name, but my daughter," I manage a fading mutter. "I can't watch her die. After everything... I just can't."

I close my eyes in defeat, enduring the chill that slithered up my spine. I can't live through another one of her attacks. It's like I've taken a heavy thrashing. 

"I can help her," K'uk'ulkan agrees. 

His words take a moment to register, and once it does, an incredulous sense of relief begins a downpour. I am laughing out in gasps, clutching onto my assured future, and crushing my Mira with a kiss, but my reassurance doesn't last long.

"But only if she can be helped. I will not bear the blame for anything," he finishes a livid augury lacing his tone. My expression falls. "I cannot take you."

"Me?" I hardly croak out the syllable. Immediately, I pull Mira closer into my chest. I know what he means, but I want to hear him wrong. 

"Only Mira," he tells me, quoting me back. 

I shake my head. "But I'm her mother. She needs me." 

"You need her more. So, this is the only way." He is giving me an ultimatum now, eyes glinting like knives from the slight noon glow. "Talokan isn't disposed to foreigners. My people won't take this lightly. I can only make an exception for your baby."

I look down at Mira, meeting her wide eyes halfway. And in those eyes, I see only me, the innocence before society gave way to remorse, all of my happiness and safety, and without having to tell her, that I love her so much. I have to let her go. But who knows how long she'll be gone? I dread the thought of waiting all alone, reminiscing what has been until she's back with me. I push it all away. At this moment, I can only hope that when I see her again, it is with her smiling my favourite smile and running breathlessly to me. 

"Can I have a moment with her?" I ask meekly.

He turns away at once, giving us futile privacy. He pushes his hands into his thick hair, an excuse to lend his pointed ear to us as he faces the side. I can see the slope in his nose, his wild eyes halfway here and halfway lost to his thoughts. I try not to care. 

I set Mira down on her feet and crouch in front of her. "My sweet, sweet girl."

"I'm cold," she mutters. I realize that she's in her diapers and light cotton shirt, still damp from her day out at sea. I am immediately transported back to our silly afternoon, all our laughter and games. I keep it running at the back of my mind.

"You are? Let me warm you up, hm? My little sweetie." 

I hide my tears in the pretence of kissing her hands to warm them up. What do I tell her? How much will she understand? Does she know what's at stake here? How long can she go on without me? She hasn't left my side since the day she contracted that awful infection and I have no heart in letting her fight this alone. 

"I can't come with you," I blurt. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. I should've known that I was ripping it off a baby. Pretty stupid of me. 

Mira scrutinizes my expression glumly. Her bottom lip quivers, and it gets fucking outrageous. I'm just as clueless about this as her. 

I don't attach too much importance to it, and instead, make her feel safe. "It's okay, baby. Because you're so brave and strong—no, Mira. Please don't cry. I can't take it."

I tell myself that she has the emotional maturity of a three-year-old, so I can't expect this to go without noise. Of course, she is going to cry out her frustration and fear, how else did she know to handle it? She has been conditioned to cry out everything since the fucking water started to drown her alive. 

"What if my head hurts again? And you're not going to be there!" she sobs, and her entire body wracks with it. The tears are dropping fast, and I brush them away quickly. God, this is beyond the seventh circle of Hades; even worse was realizing that we'd been put up to this by an insignificant microbe. Fucking sickness. 

Appa is distraught with her cries, licking her where he can. That stupid dog has to pick his moments because this one's mine. I slowly tug him off Mira and keep her focus on me. He sits on his rear and stares sadly at her. 

"I know, I know," I admit guiltily. "I promise where you're going, it won't hurt again. You're going to heal fast, and you're going to come back to me. Yes, alright?"

She shakes her head with another scream-sob. A cough accompanies this time and Appa barks with her. The way this is going, I am not doing a splendid job at sending her off. 

"Mira, please," I resort to begging and cup a hand around her jaw, "please. It's going to be fine."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is," I insist. "And you have to remember to fight for me. You have to stay strong."

She takes in a short breath. "Come with me!"

I turn to temporary expedient—the pendant around my neck. I had it made the week after she was born, to keep her close to my heart always.  I swipe it off and out of my hair, and fit it around Mira's neck. Now she'll have some way to remember me while she's away. 

"Fight for me, baby girl," I gently clutch her shoulders. "You have to keep breathing. Okay?"

"Mommy, please!"

"I love you so much. I love you, Mira. I love you."

Another great tremor overtook her when she cried out again. This time her small, weak fist crashed against my shoulder. As the onslaught of coughs got potent, I lifted her back up into my arms and faced the demigod. I can't stand to see her this way, and explanations were useless. 

K'uk'ulkan waits patiently, firm arms empty, the spear somehow missing. He must've been uncomfortable because his eyes were distant and his expression inflexible as he stepped forward. 

"Take her please," I encourage.  

Mira's clawing at my skin, trying to hold on. I can't bear to see her like this. "No, mommy! Hold me!"

He nods carefully, places his hands where they suit best and pulls Mira away gently. When he begins to nestle her, the breeze from the sea makes me shiver from the vacuity. My daughter barely notices him because she's still shouting for me. 

His furrowed gaze was locked on my face, so I brooded on his for a moment. 

"Look after her," I persuade as calmly as possible. "She's very young. She's not at the age to understand what's wrong with her."

"I will," he promises curtly, and there's a far-fetched gravity in his voice. The eventual peace on his face comforts me. I came all this way for him, it would make no sense if I didn't rely on him. 

We hear a whale vocalize a call in the distance, capturing our attention. The sky starts to darken, the sun obscured behind a slate of clouds, and it stuns me to notice such an ominous change around us. This won't go wrong, I keep firm in my head.

He uses Mira's distraction to his advantage and the pearly, feathery wings at his ankles flap, just like the dragonfly's drone I heard before. I don't even hear Mira's heartbreaking 'mommy' anymore, he soars acrobatically mere breadths above the tides, etching a white line through the surface of the ocean. His speed is electrifying from afar. 

I see the puffy stream of water from the whale, and with it, the beach goes perfectly silent. 

I slump my shoulders as the realization strikes me hard. I palm my mouth to force back a gasp. My Mira... could it be happening? 

Thank God for Appa, he is dashing anxious figure eights around my ankles and licking at my knuckles. I can't think to placate him when I can barely hold myself up. 

It was such an unfamiliar feeling—just a little incredible, I think, since everything felt incredible now—that the next time I see Mira, she is going to be a regular child. I pray that whatever laid in the Fates' loom was in favour of life. 

∞

hello everyone! thank you for your support and love for this fic! I am publishing this again because I've changed their home country from Zurich to Kyoto. again, thank you, thanks so much 🤍🤎