[fanfic100] [tenkuu no escaflowne - van x hitomi] Keeping Time.
Title: Keeping Time
Fandom: Tenkuu no Escaflowne
Characters: Van Fanel and Kanzaki Hitomi
Prompt: 034 - Not Enough
Word Count: 759
Rating: G
Author's Notes: A bit of an experiment, each section could be its own isolated drabble, and while they tie together, they are not necessarily in chronological order. Spoilers for the entire series. Also, this is the longest fic I've written in years. Go figure.
One. Two.
She hadn't done it the last time. She'd sprinted as hard as she could, had felt the adrenaline rush through her as she pounded towards the finish line...
And then she'd been passed.
Three. Four.
The pendant kept perfect time, she reminded herself.
And Amano - Amano - was watching. She'd make it this time. She would have the best run of her life, would make it before the pendant reached thirty, would see the finish line in her sights as she heart 'twenty-...' reach her ears.
Five. Six.
In her mind, Hitomi would see the pendant swinging, would force herself to count the strides she could fit into one swing. She tried to convince herself that if she could fit in one more stride, one last lunge, she would make it.
She told herself that the effort would always matter.
Seven. Eight.
Her grandmother had been as serene, and steady, as the count of the pendant. Hitomi remembered being mesmerized as her grandmother told her stories of a world she could only imagine, a world hidden behind the moon.
She'd thought her grandmother was simply a good story-teller, then.
Nine. Ten.
No one ever seemed to believe her when she told them the pendant kept perfect time. Yukari was simply uninterested in that aspect unless she was timing Hitomi (and even then, tended to use her stopwatch). Amano pointed out that the chain of the pendant was far too short to swing for an entire second anyway.
Hitomi hadn't believed at first. But her grandmother had showed her, with patience.
So too, did she show others.
Eleven. Twelve.
Hitomi hadn't told anyone this before, because she thought she was simply imagining things.
Even her grandmother hadn't mentioned this aspect of the pendant.
But when Hitomi concentrated hard enough, when she wished hard enough, the pendant would lead her to her desire.
She did not know how important this would someday be.
Thirteen. Fourteen.
Yukari often joked that Hitomi must have some sort of special power to be able to tell the fortunes of others as well as she did.
Hitomi always told her it was a lot of luck, thanks to the presence of her grandmother's pendant.
After all, Yuri had gifted Hitomi's tarot set.
Fifteen. Sixteen.
Hitomi hated telling fortunes, though whether it was that they tended to come true (no matter how bad) or that she had not received the clear fortune she truly desired, one could not tell.
She told them anyway. Hitomi hated to disappoint anyone.
Seventeen. Eighteen.
Hitomi believed, more than anyone knew, in fate.
She denied it, because fate told her she would not fall in love on this world.
And Hitomi needed to believe that she would, that she could be as normal as the rest of them.
Nineteen. Twenty.
Hitomi had never mentioned her grandmother's stories to anyone in her family. Her mother, she knew, would show a worried expression, and share a glance with her husband, who would nod grimly.
Her brother would only make fun of her.
Hitomi held those stories in her heart, kept close and cherished, even when she was no longer a starry-eyed child, and told herself she didn't believe in fate or fairy tales.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
Would you change anything?
I couldn't, she would tell the voice. It's already happened. Whether it was fate, or choice, I am where I was meant to be, ultimately. She looked at Dornkirk, and believed in the strength of humanity. In herself.
In Van.
Twenty-three. Twenty-four.
She often teased Van, that he was the cause of her clumsiness, that first collision was so important that it simply had to carry over to the rest (for the rest) of their lives.
Van would smile sheepishly, and apologize. And then kiss the latest bruise or scrape happily.
Twenty-five. Twenty-six.
Hitomi loved the wind. Loved, especially, the way it felt as she sprinted toward another goal, playing with her hair, and rushing along her skin as though she was flying.
She still ran, though now and again, she truly would fly, the air rushing across her skin, through her hair.
And the warmth of her destiny behind her, keeping her steady.
Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight.
In her mind, she could hear her own voice counting out each swing, could see her steps bring her so much closer to her goal.
If I make this, I will find my true love.
Twenty-nine.
And the track lit up, as though a star had fallen from the sky, leaving a trail in its wake.
Comments are adored.
Fandom: Tenkuu no Escaflowne
Characters: Van Fanel and Kanzaki Hitomi
Prompt: 034 - Not Enough
Word Count: 759
Rating: G
Author's Notes: A bit of an experiment, each section could be its own isolated drabble, and while they tie together, they are not necessarily in chronological order. Spoilers for the entire series. Also, this is the longest fic I've written in years. Go figure.
One. Two.
She hadn't done it the last time. She'd sprinted as hard as she could, had felt the adrenaline rush through her as she pounded towards the finish line...
And then she'd been passed.
Three. Four.
The pendant kept perfect time, she reminded herself.
And Amano - Amano - was watching. She'd make it this time. She would have the best run of her life, would make it before the pendant reached thirty, would see the finish line in her sights as she heart 'twenty-...' reach her ears.
Five. Six.
In her mind, Hitomi would see the pendant swinging, would force herself to count the strides she could fit into one swing. She tried to convince herself that if she could fit in one more stride, one last lunge, she would make it.
She told herself that the effort would always matter.
Seven. Eight.
Her grandmother had been as serene, and steady, as the count of the pendant. Hitomi remembered being mesmerized as her grandmother told her stories of a world she could only imagine, a world hidden behind the moon.
She'd thought her grandmother was simply a good story-teller, then.
Nine. Ten.
No one ever seemed to believe her when she told them the pendant kept perfect time. Yukari was simply uninterested in that aspect unless she was timing Hitomi (and even then, tended to use her stopwatch). Amano pointed out that the chain of the pendant was far too short to swing for an entire second anyway.
Hitomi hadn't believed at first. But her grandmother had showed her, with patience.
So too, did she show others.
Eleven. Twelve.
Hitomi hadn't told anyone this before, because she thought she was simply imagining things.
Even her grandmother hadn't mentioned this aspect of the pendant.
But when Hitomi concentrated hard enough, when she wished hard enough, the pendant would lead her to her desire.
She did not know how important this would someday be.
Thirteen. Fourteen.
Yukari often joked that Hitomi must have some sort of special power to be able to tell the fortunes of others as well as she did.
Hitomi always told her it was a lot of luck, thanks to the presence of her grandmother's pendant.
After all, Yuri had gifted Hitomi's tarot set.
Fifteen. Sixteen.
Hitomi hated telling fortunes, though whether it was that they tended to come true (no matter how bad) or that she had not received the clear fortune she truly desired, one could not tell.
She told them anyway. Hitomi hated to disappoint anyone.
Seventeen. Eighteen.
Hitomi believed, more than anyone knew, in fate.
She denied it, because fate told her she would not fall in love on this world.
And Hitomi needed to believe that she would, that she could be as normal as the rest of them.
Nineteen. Twenty.
Hitomi had never mentioned her grandmother's stories to anyone in her family. Her mother, she knew, would show a worried expression, and share a glance with her husband, who would nod grimly.
Her brother would only make fun of her.
Hitomi held those stories in her heart, kept close and cherished, even when she was no longer a starry-eyed child, and told herself she didn't believe in fate or fairy tales.
Twenty-one. Twenty-two.
Would you change anything?
I couldn't, she would tell the voice. It's already happened. Whether it was fate, or choice, I am where I was meant to be, ultimately. She looked at Dornkirk, and believed in the strength of humanity. In herself.
In Van.
Twenty-three. Twenty-four.
She often teased Van, that he was the cause of her clumsiness, that first collision was so important that it simply had to carry over to the rest (for the rest) of their lives.
Van would smile sheepishly, and apologize. And then kiss the latest bruise or scrape happily.
Twenty-five. Twenty-six.
Hitomi loved the wind. Loved, especially, the way it felt as she sprinted toward another goal, playing with her hair, and rushing along her skin as though she was flying.
She still ran, though now and again, she truly would fly, the air rushing across her skin, through her hair.
And the warmth of her destiny behind her, keeping her steady.
Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight.
In her mind, she could hear her own voice counting out each swing, could see her steps bring her so much closer to her goal.
If I make this, I will find my true love.
Twenty-nine.
And the track lit up, as though a star had fallen from the sky, leaving a trail in its wake.
Comments are adored.