One Night in Osaka

Megumi reached down as if to touch one of his hands, only to find that he was still holding them behind himself. "Are you sure you won't come back later? For a drink?"

Donovan watched her reach out, but kept his hands firmly behind him, not trusting any of his instincts in that moment. "I'd like to. But I shouldn't. I'm leaving soon, and... I'm... I'm not feeling well. But thank you." He took a step back, and bowed very low. "Domo arigato goazaimashita."

As he came back up, he watched Megumi's face, and she had a sad, resigned expression. "Do-itashimashite," she said in reply. (You're welcome.)

Not trusting himself to say anything else, Donovan gave one last quick bow, and turned in retreat to his hotel. He didn't let himself look back.

***

CHAPTER TWO: ALESSIA -- IT'S A KIND OF MAGIC

"Alessia? Alessia! Daphne Alessia Astin Devonshire!" The bathroom door echoed with the sound of a lightly pounding fist. "You've been soaking in that tub for far too long, it's time to give the rest of us a turn in there." There was a brief pause, and then the sound of laughter through the closed door. "I can't speak for your brother, but I for one am in DIRE need of taking a shit, and I can't well do that if you're in there watching as I go."

Alessia sat up in shock, steaming hot water cascading off her shoulders as she scrunched up her nose. "Mother, that's disgusting!" She could hear her brother laughing as well now.

"Not as disgusting as the lovely fresh carpet will be in a few moments if you don't finish up in there. All joking aside, dear, I really am quite uncomfortable trying to keep everything held in, as it were, and you have been in there for a very long time. Please be kind to your aged mother and dry off as quick as you can."

Grabbing the wall-handle and pulling herself to her feet and out of the tub, Alessia reached for one of the hotel's exquisite towels, but then changed her mind and closed her eyes in concentration instead. In her mind's eye, she envisioned tracing the path of a pair of sigils that represented wind and heat respectively, and a small whirling column of warm air enveloped her, drying her off far faster than any towel could. Her mother's voice came through the door again. "Oh, that's lovely resonance-work, Alessia, sensed it right away. Feels like a very delicate effect, very controlled. I bet you're not even knocking over any shampoo bottles with that air current. Did you learn that spell while off at University?"

"Excellence in all things, mother. Words to live by." Alessia reached up to touch her hair, already comfortably dry — and indeed, her control had been perfect, none of the wind had gone anywhere she didn't want it to. She donned a fluffy bathrobe, tied the waistcord, and opened the door to face her parent. "There was no need for vulgarity, mother. I was nearly done. And you're only forty-nine, that's not 'aged' at all."

"Oh, did it bother you to hear your mum use phrases like 'take a shit'? I work with plants, Alessia, I get elbow deep and worse in the stuff all the time. Would you rather I call it 'feces'? 'Dung'? 'Pellets'? 'Dropping a deuce'? Heard an American say that once. Or maybe I should talk like your grandmother's nurse, and call it 'a significant bowel movement'?"

Alessia's cheeks flushed red. "MOTHER!"

"Oh, I've got more — 'pooping', there's an oldie but a goodie. 'Growing a tail', heard that on television one time, nearly came apart." Penelope Devonshire waggled her hands towards herself. "Come on out, dear, I really DO have to go, I wasn't kidding about that. Looking forward to trying out these fancy Japanese toilets, though. Don't even need to wipe after, I hear, lots of lovely stuff with water jets down there..."

As the sound of her younger brother's raucous laughter around the corner grew even louder, Alessia's blush intensified and she slammed her fingers into her ears. "I am NOT listening to my mother talking about her toilet experiences!" But emerge from the bathroom she did, her mystic construction of drying winds fading away as she did so.

"Just let me know when you're clothed, alright?" Her brother was sitting on the edge of his bed, facing away from his sister's approach, absorbed in something on his tablet computer, but his shoulders still shaking with laughter. "I still can't believe Mother wound you up like that."

"Spirits above and below, Ethan, our mother is insane, and dare I say it, grotesque." Slipping on a matching set of clean underwear, she went sifting through what she'd hung in the closet for more clothing.

"I HEARD THAT!"

Alessia shook her head in exasperation as she lifted up a light green scoop-neck summer dress, inspecting it. "YOU WERE MEANT TO, MOTHER! Go back to your business... and for the love of our ancestors, do NOT tell me about it when you're done!" She slipped on the garment, and inspected the overall effect in the mirror with a smile. "You can turn around now, Ethan — do me a favor and zip me up, please?"

Setting down his tablet, he walked over to close her garment in the back. "Going out tonight? You wouldn't wear that if you were staying in to recover."

She turned and reached up to ruffle her fingers through her brother's fine blonde hair. Though three years younger, he towered over her, and she was not a short woman. "I know that jet lag always does you in for a day or so, but I've found that getting fresh air is the best thing, for me anyway. So yes, I thought I'd wander about a bit. Besides, I heard from Belinda that there's a lovely spirit not far from here, very amenable, and quite eager to meet and empower exceptional young mages. I'd ask if you'd want to come along for that, but I'm sure I already know your answer."

Ethan sat back down on the bed, resuming his interrupted work on his computer. "Indeed you do. As you said, I'm quite exhausted, and honestly, I really don't feel in a rush to increase my power base. I've got enough magic on hand for my needs already, honestly." He twiddled his fingers, tracing a simple sigil in the air, and a little display of popping and whistling slights fizzled about around his fingertips before just as quickly fading away. "I'm quite content to let you be the 'shining star of our generation', as..." He paused, and lowered his voice to a soft whisper, glancing towards where their mother sat in the bathroom. "...as our father puts it." He frowned a little, and looked down at his tablet.

Alessia folded her arms before her. "Are you still upset about that? Papa said he had VERY important matters to attend to back home, it's not his fault he couldn't join us for this trip."

Ethan shook his head, not looking up. "That's not what I'm upset with, dear sister, but I'm too tired to have this conversation right now. I'll just note that it amazes me how brilliant you are, but also so blind at the same time, and I'm not saying another word on that tonight."

Running a comb through her long dark hair, Alessia just shrugged. "Whatever THAT means. Suit yourself, Mister Grump. But I plan to go out and thoroughly enjoy and enrich myself tonight."

With the sound of a toilet flushing, the bathroom door opened and Penelope emerged back into the hotel room. "Ooo, going out? Have a lovely time, 'Lassie'. Going to hit the clubs and find some local boy to seduce, hm? Just don't bring him back here, there's 'love hotels' for that sort of thing if you want to get frisky." This got another laugh out of Ethan.

"Oh please, I'm not nine anymore, just set aside that 'Lassie' business." Alessia sat down on the other bed and hiked up her dress to roll some black stockings up her legs. "I'm out to get a good walk, make a new Pact, and enjoy the nighttime air. I'm not at all wanting to walk into some crowded dance club where nervous young men stare nervously and never work up the courage to say something sweet."

Penelope picked up her reading glasses and a paperback book from atop the hotel dresser. "You're putting on stockings and a dress with a slit up to the thigh, but you're not on the hunt for a handsome fellow? Pull the other one, dear, you can't fool your mum."

"Is that so hard to believe? I happen to be a lovely young woman, and I ENJOY looking and feeling lovely. Nothing wrong with that at all." Slipping on a pair of comfortable flats, Alessia stood up and checked her look in the mirror one last time, adjusting a bra strap to make sure it wasn't peeking out. "We're going to be rather occupied for the next several weeks, so pulling a fit young man is not on my agenda. Last thing on my mind." With that, she slipped her purse onto her shoulder, and stepped past her mother towards the door. "I'll be out late, so don't wait up."

***

CHAPTER THREE: DONOVAN -- WHERE THE STREETS HAVE NO NAME / I CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF OF YOU

As he stepped out of the shockingly clean taxicab, Donovan marveled at the mass of humanity before him. The sun had only gone down just a little while ago, but the Dotonbori shopping and night-life district was already alive and pulsing like a living creature, with people flowing through the streets like blood through the veins of a neon-scaled beast.

Taking his first steps into the crowd, Donovan did his best to calm his nerves, and just let in all the sights, sounds, and smells that surrounded him. Inhaling deep, his nose reveled in the scent of cooked batter and seafood, and sure enough, just to his right was a takoyaki (octopus dumpling) stand. As he watched, a cheerful young man fussed over his cooking trays, poking and prodding at legions of little spheres of batter with a pair of chopsticks, turning them about to make sure they cooked evenly. There was a line of half a dozen people waiting to take that food off the chef's hands, and despite having already eaten dinner, Donovan's mouth was salivating at the thought of trying this food he'd only read about. Allowing his appetite to lead him by the nose, he joined the line, and continued to look about around him.

It was clear that he was far from the only foreigner here. While the majority of the crowd around him were Japanese, he could hear snippets of conversation that sounded to his ears like Mandarin Chinese, Korean, English, French, and Russian. A couple of people ahead of him in line were speaking what he guessed was Hausa, having only heard it once before in a documentary. Even so, Japanese or not, everyone present was happily shopping, drinking, eating, working, or just walking leisurely about.

His eyes were drawn to a pair of beautiful young Japanese women walking by, their dark hair partially dyed red, and their short skirts supplemented with lace underskirts that reached well past their knees, a fashion he'd never seen before in America. As they passed where he stood in line, he looked around further, and saw that the red hair color and lace underskirt combo was clearly a popular trend, as easily half of the women present wore variations on this fashion theme. Another beauty walked past, this one with an undyed short haircut, and Donovan suddenly imagined Megumi's face before him again. Pushing away the mental image of her sad frown as he all but ran from her, he took a deep breath and tried to concentrate instead on imagining what his impending snack would taste like. As he approached the front of the line and reached into his pocket for the necessary coinage, he idly wondered what Megumi would be doing instead with her vacant evening after work. Would she be sitting alone at a bar, nursing a beer? Go home and watch television, or read a book? What sort of hobbies would a young assistant ramen chef have? Gritting his teeth, he shook his head and tried again to put her out of his mind. She'd made her offer, but he'd walked away from it. It wasn't right for him to keep thinking about her, he thought with a sad self-rebuke. Still, he couldn't help but feeling that his courage had been put to the test... and that he'd utterly failed.

He glanced up, and saw himself and the rest of the line reflected in a nearby store window. He was the only person there without a companion — everyone else was happily waiting with friends or loved ones. Donovan watched this tableaux for a long time, unsure of his own feelings. If nothing else, being alone was an easier state to maintain, but... "Just because it's 'safe' doesn't make you any happier, you know," he murmured under his breath. He stared hard into his reflection's eyes. "Not everyone's out to hurt you, you coward. Just because..." He drew in a sharp breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, pushing away painful memories both old and new before looking back out again. "Grow a goddamn spine." He looked away, fixing his gaze and thoughts instead on the sizzling dumplings that awaited him.

A few minutes later, he was strolling through the streets and carefully chewing on his first delicious and steaming hot morsel. The octopus meat was wonderful, chewy but not as rubbery as he had feared. There were some green flakes scattered on the outside of the dumplings that added a nice aromatic touch to each bite, and the slightly undercooked batter on the inside of the takoyaki added a wonderful creamy texture and flavor, capping off the fantastic experience. Leaving the container open as he popped a second bite into his mouth, he approached Ebisu Bridge, a local landmark. This famous walkway seemed to show up in any movie or TV show that took place in Osaka, much like Times Square did for New York City, and he experienced a small shiver of happy recognition as he stepped closer. Ebisu Bridge was wide enough for a thick crowd to walk across, and had waist-high concrete barriers on either side, overlooking a river that glimmered in the combined light of the night sky, lamp posts, and the overlooking buildings. People of all ages and types lingered against these walls, chatting, flirting, or simply staring off into the shining night.

Stepping forward, he moved as one with the crowd that surrounded him. There was something strangely comforting to that simple motion, as if he was disappearing into safety. He could pretend he wasn't the obtrusive foreigner anymore, who barely spoke the local language, but that he was just part of the regular Dotonbori throng, walking along from one destination to the next. He could move forward without a worry in the world about family matters, about heartbreak, about feeling empty or alone, or about his cowardice and Megumi's sad farewell. Without having to think about what would happen next, drifting through that moment in life without a care.

When he would think back upon this night later, it seemed rather fitting in hindsight that this was the moment that would change his life forever.

Nearly halfway across Ebisu bridge, he saw her. She was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen, either in person or on any screen, standing less than twenty feet away, and his steps began to slow. She was clad in a thin summer dress in a rich shade of green, which whispered and rippled across her graceful shoulders and soft curves in the evening breeze. The dress was slit up to mid-thigh, revealing black lace stockings across lush legs that made Donovan's breath catch in his throat. Her hair fell down past her shoulders, a gleaming obsidian-black wave interrupted by an inch-wide sunbeam of bright blonde hair from her right brow. She had fair skin, a stark contrast around perfect crimson lips, which pulled back into a wide smile as she conversed with... no one?

Donovan blinked, the endless moment of attraction suddenly interrupted. Her mouth moved as if she was having a conversation with someone, looking down as if someone short was standing before her, but there was no one present, not even a headset over her ear for a phone call. She simply stood alone against the wall of the bridge. Her shoulders shook as she brought one hand to her lips in laughter at an unheard joke, her bright eyes sparkled in the lamplight, and Donovan's wits abruptly left him. His forward motion stopped, and he was unable to look away from this mysterious woman.

As if sensing his gaze, the unnamed vision looked up, and their eyes met for the first time. As far as Donovan could tell, she didn't seem to dislike his presence. Her eyes glanced up and down his person, and one eyebrow raised as her smile widened. But at that moment, someone bumped into him from behind, and the world went into slow motion. He felt himself lurch forward, one foot stepping out to catch his lost balance — but in doing so, stepped on the box of takoyaki that he'd unwittingly dropped. His foot lost all traction as wet batter coated the bottom of his shoe, and he felt himself falling forward head-first, the stone wall of the bridge railing growing larger in his field of vision...

And suddenly he stopped falling. His eyes were millimeters away from hard stone, his skull a moment away from getting cracked open from one careless mistake — but he wasn't moving anymore. How was this possible? His palm shot out to slap against the wall, to stop what had already been halted, and his knees touched ground a moment later. He turned his head to look around... and an itch building behind his eyes suddenly erupted into a full-body spasm, colors spiraling before his eyes and a cold prickling sensation flowing from his ears to his fingertips. The prickle changed course, rushing back along his arms, down his chest, past his groin and seemingly bursting out through his toes, leaving him twitching and shivering in spite of the evening's summer heat.

"I don't think any of us expected THAT to happen. Goodness." The voice sounded like that of a playful grandmother, aged but unbowed by time. Donovan lifted his head, and crouching down before him was an incredibly small old Japanese woman. Her face was filled with smile lines rather than mere wrinkles, her tiny frame covered by a summer yukata robe. The garment was black fabric with swirling gold accents, and painted with a design of a large white fish. Her hair was also white, pulled back into a small bun, with a small patch of orange color near the top of her head. But what really gave Donovan pause was that she was also covered in an aura of soft white light. She turned to look over her shoulder. "Good reflexes, Miss Alessia. Poor boy would've had his head cracked like a breakfast egg if you hadn't caught him."

Behind her, the mysterious woman in green stepped forward... and there were strands of shining red light trailing from her outstretched hand. These thin lights extended all the way towards him, and now that he looked, they were wrapped around his shoulders and waist, like coils of slender rope. The woman gestured, and these red cords evaporated into the air. "Are you hurt? You almost hit that wall." Her voice was as lovely as the rest of her, with a lilting "upper-class" English accent that sent shivers down his spine.

Donovan managed to stand back up, wobbling slightly as he grabbed onto the wall to steady himself. He pointed down at the tiny glowing elder. "She said you caught me — thank you. But how did you do that? What were those lights? Why is SHE lit up? And what happened to me afterwards? My whole body feels weird." The bridge-walking crowd continued on around and past them, taking no notice of anything unusual. He imagined that they just dismissed him as a clumsy (or better yet, drunk) Gaijin, stumbling around and rambling nonsense on the edges of polite society, where he could be safely ignored.

The old woman let out a hearty chuckle. "If you can see me, then you can hear me as well. Call me 'Lady Ebisu', young man." She brushed some dirt and pebbles off of Donovan's knees. "Miss Alessia here caught your falling self with a gravity spell, a very well-crafted one I might add."

Alessia's eyes narrowed as she peered intently at Donovan. "You couldn't see Lady Ebisu before I caught you?" When Donovan shook his head, she flashed him a beautiful smile. "Quite rare, but not unheard of. Most people can't see Resonance effects or supernatural beings, they're just not wired right for it. You must have been a latent Mage, your proper senses awakened by direct contact with my spell." She reached out and flicked a bit of lint off his shoulder. "VERY rare. Most Mages express basic sensitivity by age five, if not sooner, but I can actually feel a new reservoir of power opening up in you as we speak. Definitely a full Mage, not just a Sensitive. You're a very, very late bloomer." She flashed him a warm grin. "Clearly all grown up now, though."