.

It’s a bright day—one of those days when it’s hazy but the haze only seems to emphasize the sunlight, not block it out, so that everything seems to glow, yellow-white and slightly surreal.

hide awakens this day feeling slightly off, which in itself is nothing new. He’s lived half his life feeling slightly off, so he’s an old hand at it by now. Sometimes being a tad left from center can be helpful, he knows, in the obscure way he sometimes understands things. Sometimes seeing things from a skewed angle can produce a clearer picture than anyone else can see.

It’s a little early for philosophy, however, and he’s got no one to share it with in any case. The light streaming through the window blinds that he forgot to close last night is lemony-pale and annoyingly persuasive. He finds he can’t muster the will to go back to sleep in the face of that entreating glow, so he throws off the covers and stumbles his way to the shower.

Afterward he grabs clothes, comfortable things that don’t match but are probably mostly clean and only slightly wrinkled. It’s a day for comfy clothes; the soft light makes everything seem comfy, or at least like it should be comfy. He leans against his kitchen counter, drinking coffee (instant; he’s got no patience for the kind you actually brew) and wondering what he should do.

It’s not yet noon. hide hasn’t been acquainted with the hours before noon in a long, long time.

After a while he decides to go out; he isn’t sure quite where, but he’s content to sit back and see where this day takes him. At the door he hesitates before jamming an oversized pair of sunglasses onto his face. On the one hand, he doesn’t want to block out the diffused sunlight; on the other, he’s not confident enough that he won’t be recognized and mobbed. He shrugs to himself, finally, thinking That’s the price of fame, and squashes a hat on his head before going out the door.

It’s early May, and the air outside is cool but not cold. Trees everywhere wave mostly-naked branches as they wait for better weather to clothe themselves in green. It’s been a peculiarly long winter, grey and dark and cold, and it’s almost as if the trees can’t quite believe that spring is here. In not long the sakura will be blooming, an explosion of pale pink petals, but for now everything remains subdued. Still, you can almost feel it in the air, the feeling of about to happen, like the moment before a surprised laugh. It lends itself well to the soft pale sunlight. It adds to the feeling of real/not real.

hide meanders down the sidewalk, breathing in the air that isn’t precisely fresh, not in the middle of the city, but is nonetheless cleansing, as if it’s been scrubbed just for the occasion. He’s feeling oddly peaceful, like the way you feel after a long, hot bath. Languid, almost, but renewed. Ready to start again. Maybe, he muses, that’s how the trees feel, too. They’re biding their time, just waiting for the appropriate moment. He likes the thought, enjoys the inherent metaphor. Pleased with himself, he continues down the street.

Somewhere far from here, life is going on, although not for everyone. It’s an early morning for a lot of people, a lot of people who’ve been awakened, pulled from dreams, by the ringing of the phone. Most of them know what sort of phone call it is before they even answer; it’s the phone call you never want to get on an early spring morning when you’ve been having peaceful dreams. Even before they pick up the phone, they brace themselves, and for a moment, inexplicably, they think of sakura and hazy lemon-pale sunlight and air that is cool and soft.

hide is still wandering, hands in his pockets, comfortably slouched as he walks. He doesn’t know about the phone calls; he doesn’t know about the people who, far away, have dropped their phones, or sat down heavily, eyes wide, their minds gone blank with the first stages of shock. He’d feel regret if he did know it, perhaps sorrow, but for now he’s blissfully ignorant. It’s a beautiful day, and he’s full of that new, calm energy. The sidewalk seems to go on forever, and strangely, he can’t recall where it leads to. It seems as though he’s never walked this way before.

There’s a gentle breeze blowing now, cool against his face, carrying with it the scent of sakura, which shouldn’t be there but is.

hide decides to see where the sidewalk goes. After all, it’s not even noon yet. Something tells him he has all day.