Work Text:
Makoto had grown up knowing that somewhere beyond his small village was a vast city, because his father often told him, and Ren and Ran, stories of the mysterious place he spent many months in each year. When his father was gone to sell his mother’s pottery, he retold these stories to his younger siblings.
The city was a pure white and sparkling treasure in the middle of the desert; the winding streets and narrow alleys were full of color and sound that he and his siblings could barely imagine; women were practically encrusted with jewels, and all the men dressed like princes, and fine food and drink were easy to find.
Often the embellishments of life in the city were from his mouth and not his father’s, spurred on by dreams and fantasies that he occupied himself with while doing chores.
He was enraptured, and it had not been a surprise that when he was finally old enough he had volunteered to go in his father’s place. But the gleam of the city faded each day he was there; the city was dusty and stained; the sound was oppressive, and the colors were more often dull, and dirty, than they were vibrant. He tried not to think of how many were dressed in rags and unable to eat, but each day that he sold nothing meant the truth began to loom closer and closer.
Without any way to ask his father for guidance, and not trusting the other merchants, divine intervention seemed to be the only way he could redeem the trip across the desert; in the center of the city, where he could often catch glimpses of the dream he had held so closely, was a temple. If you had the patience or the money, you could speak to the Gods.
Makoto certainly had patience, and on a warm February morning he decided to put that patience to the test. The temple was not the largest building in the city, but it was covered in intricate carvings and accented with gold. He was dismayed to find that it was also the most crowded building, even so early in the morning, but he joined the throng all the same. The longer he was there he began to notice many people were leaving.
He stopped a man whose expression was clearly disappointed, questioning him after apologizing for the inconvenience. “Why is everyone leaving?”
"Probably because the oracle hasn’t been giving anyone prophecies. She claimed she can’t hear them today. This never happened with the old woman, even when she was a novice."
"I don’t understand."
"The oracle here now has only been here for six years. She took over for the old woman who was here before her. Novice or not, if you’re chosen by the Gods you should be able to hear them every day, shouldn’t you?"
Makoto looked back up at the temple, peering over the crowd and watching more and more people leave. The man he had stopped had left, disappearing into the street that was slowly coming to life. People—more importantly customers—were going to be all over the city in only a few minutes; if he ran he could probably make it home, throw open the shutters, and try his best to sell a cup at the very least.
But as the crowd in front of the temple continued to thin, Makoto could not bring himself to leave. When the crowd had thinned enough for him to walk inside he stared at the rich colors and the faces of the Gods until their eyes made him so nervous he had to look away.
He couldn’t dismiss their messenger under those watchful eyes.
The desperate and devout were lead further into the temple, through beautiful golden hallways to a golden door. Makoto tried his best to peek inside the room as the first person was allowed inside, but only caught a glimpse of an altar before the door was closed.
No one spoke, no one looked at each other, and Makoto had no way to calm his racing heart; the silence pressed in on him and he held his breath with each creak of the door; he wanted to ask each person that stepped out if their conversation with the Gods had gone well, especially the ones with furrowed brows and deep lines around their mouths, but he feared what would happen if he did.
He also feared that the truth of what had happened behind the golden door would be worse than what he could imagine, and since he had never been in such a grand temple or spoken to an oracle, his imagination was running wild. By the time he stood before the door he was sure that witnessing an oracle was terrifying, and once he was inside he stood motionless as the door was shut behind him.
The room, rather than going straight back, extended off to his right, hidden by a wall that created the entryway he was in now. Behind that wall was the oracle, a novice oracle but an oracle all the same. He took a deep breath, placing a hand on the wall, and closed his eyes.
"Hello? Did someone come in? You should step this way." Her voice was firm, but young. Gentle. A voice that his father would say belonged to a kind and good person. It was foolish to cower by a door like a child when his father had trusted him with the responsibilities of an adult, but now he couldn’t bring himself to show his face.
There was a soft chiming, like small bells, but then it was less like bells and more like the bangles that shifted and slid against each other as the crowds hurried by him without a second glance. He opened his eyes just as the oracle peered around the wall.
"Hm? Are you hiding?" She was much shorter than him, with tiny wrists that her bangles only made look smaller. Her face looked very young though it was surrounded by jewelry that dripped from her red hair, and if she was a novice with only six years experience he couldn’t imagine how young she had been when she started; but she was practically drowning in an elaborately embroidered sari so no matter how young she looked she was a woman.
"Beautiful."
"Huh?"
"Your clothes—I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be this rude. I’ve never been in a temple like this before it’s overwhelming."
"Well lurking in the doorway is a little strange but I’ll forgive you since you complimented me. You’re here to speak to the Gods," she sighed, taking his hand and leading him into the room. It looked no different from the rest of the temple apart from the pillows on the floor. He was instructed to sit down on one, and she took a deep breath, looking at him expectantly. "Well?"
He stared at her, his face growing warmer with each passing second. “I don’t know what to ask.”
"You came here without a question?"
"If you can speak directly to the Gods, can you please ask them to continue to take care of my family?"
She blinked rapidly, shaking her head as if she was clearing away dust. “What’s your name?”
"M-Makoto."
Her bangles clinked and chimed, and the fabric of her sari rustled as she sat down on the pillow next to him. She took a deep breath, lifting her shoulders. “Is your family in some dire trouble?”
"Well they might be, and it will be my fault," he muttered. "I offered to take over the family business this summer and now it might fail. I don’t know what to do."
"Well let’s ask."
"What do I do?"
"Most people pray but you don’t have to do anything." She tilted her head and the light caught the jewels in her hair and each one flared to life, and Makoto stared, awestruck; the Gods were surely with them, drawn in through this woman they had chosen, sitting placidly before him, her eyes closed as she listened to voices he could not hear.
"A fool’s luck can change," she began, "as long as they continue to behave foolishly."
"What—what does that mean?" He blinked rapidly, a perfect mimicry. "That the Gods think I’m a fool? That I only make foolish decisions?"
The light faded from her as she stood, her hands absently brushing along the fabric of her sari. “The Gods mean exactly what they say.”
"And if I don’t understand it, isn’t it your job to tell me what they mean? Did you turn the others away with no answers?"
"It is not my place to presume what they mean. I can only deliver their messages."
He stood as well, looking down at her. Her eyes narrowed, and she carefully sidled towards the door. “Then what if I don’t ask you as an oracle?”
"What do you mean? I’m an oracle no matter how you ask me."
"What’s your name?"
"My name is Gou, but—"
"Gou." He frowned and took a step towards her; his brow was furrowed and the lines around his mouth deep. "I want to ask you as a friend. What do you think my prophecy means?"
Her mouth opened then slowly closed again. Her hands moved quickly, her fingers fluttering about her hair and her jewelry; he almost reached out to stop her when she suddenly began to pace in a frenzy, but she just as suddenly stopped; she looked at him, her face flushed and her expression puzzled.
"Come back tomorrow. As early as you can."
***
Sunrise, it turned out, was suitably early; Gou let him inside the temple herself, this time dressed in a simple salwar with no jewels in sight. It would have been completely improper for him to be in a private room with her in this state, and so they sat on a bench that was tucked out of sight.
"I rushed through all of my chores, so we have as long as you like to talk," she explained. She swung her legs, back and forth, and curled her fingers under the edge of the bench. Her hair had pooled on the bench behind her, and Makoto nearly reached out to touch it.
"Your hair is so long."
"Ah. It hasn’t been cut in for seventeen years."
"You’re seventeen?"
"That’s right."
"You were only eleven when you became an oracle?"
"I thought you wanted my advice?" She smiled when he nodded. "Your prophecy… a fool’s luck will change as long as they continue to live foolishly—those were the words that came to me. What do you think they mean?"
He frowned. “It sounds like I should make bad decisions.”
"Well that would definitely cause your luck to change. Sometimes the God’s words are literal, but other times they’re not. As your friend, I think the God’s are telling you that as long as you follow your instincts, things will turn out the way they should."
"That’s so simple!" He leaned forward, and she laughed, and again he thought of the chimes of bells. "Do the God’s trust me that much?"
"We are given freewill, Makoto, because they trust us, don’t you think? Even if we make bad decisions in one life time, they trust that we will do right in another."
"Then," he slumped down on the bench, "the way things will turn out could be good or bad."
"That was true before you knew your prophecy."
He lifted his head, laughing. “That’s true.”
***
His visits to the temple continued, at first of his own volition and then at her request. Sometimes he visited an oracle, and other times he visited a woman, but with each visit he saw more of what he could only describe as her very isolated life. It was easier for them to meet under the pretense of prophesizing, since any other interaction would be considered a distraction; as the only oracle at the temple, it was considered imperative that she always be completely focused.
"It’s an important and prestigious thing, but I don’t think anyone knows how lonely it is." She sighed and looked around at the pillows and the altar. "I can’t do anything freely. It’s as if everyone was given free will but me. I didn’t even want to come here."
"You never wanted to be an oracle?"
"Once the Gods make their decision, it can’t be changed. I know this will sound awful, but sometimes I wonder if the Gods really meant to choose me. But I feel ashamed when I wish this kind of life on someone else."
"How did they choose?"
"I don’t know for sure, but nearly every oracle has been from a prestigious family. But unless they come to the temple, they never see their child again. I think every family is a little scared when the time comes."
To cheer her up he told her about his family, whom she asked about frequently; she loved hearing about Ren and Ran especially, and began to ask for the same stories that he had told them while growing up. He spoke of the sparkling city and fine food, and princes and princesses with such enthusiasm that he often got to his feet and brought his fantasy world into existence with his hands and voice alone.
"You remind me of a princess, Gou," he admitted one day.
She had flushed bright red and replied: “I am, actually.”
Her story was much more subdued; a tale of a family that lost their father, and a mother who worried about what kind of men would try to force their way to the throne through his marriage to her daughter. So the mother pulled the strings necessary to get her a permanent place in the temple. In this way there was no choice for a ruler but her brother, with her mother acting as reagent until he had become an adult.
"So when you said you wondered if the Gods really meant to choose you—"
"Maybe they did, but I think it’s more likely that the temple was influenced by my mother. It’s hard to turn down the wishes of a queen."
"But your brother, he must be an adult by now. Why can’t someone replace you?"
"He’s been an adult for as long as you have. But the decision is final, so I have to grow old here. Even if I could go back I would be expected to marry someone, which is what got me here in the first place."
"Do you not want to marry?"
She had blushed an even deeper red than she had earlier and sent him away, which he tried to take in stride; he still had wares that he had to try to sell, and he wouldn’t be able to do that if he stayed there all morning. Not that he expected to find a lot of customers waiting.
Even with Gou’s advice nothing had improved, and he found that somehow his luck was getting worse; just this morning he found that food he had just bought had somehow spoiled overnight, and the heat had gotten more unbearable every day since he had arrived, caused by a drought that was badly affecting life in the city.
He was brooding on this, and Gou’s story, when he came across an agitated group of men. He stopped and peered over them and between legs, and found that they had surrounded a white dog, and for some reason seemed intent on killing it. Perhaps it had stolen food, or bitten someone, but he couldn’t leave as if he had seen nothing.
He handed over every rupee he had for the dog, like the fool he was.
***
The dog was a very friendly, loyal, secret that he never mentioned in any of his subsequent visits with Gou. It wasn’t difficult to keep his mind off of the animal, or his abject poverty, when he had such a lovely distraction. He had begun to prefer her simple salwar and the days she wore her hair down; she often let him braid it, and his eyes and his fingers would follow the slope of her neck all the way down her back and it took every ounce of control to keep his mouth away.
After three weeks in the city, he finally sold more than one piece in a day, and he quickly became so busy that his visits with Gou had to happen at night, in even more secrecy than before. Makoto didn’t mind. He was happiest when telling her stories, and watching her smile and laugh.
The more they talked the more she shared her own dreams, far from the city where she would have the freedom to go where she pleased and live a simple life, either alone or with her brother and mother. On the day that her idyllic new home sounded suspiciously like his own village he gave into instinct and kissed the back of her neck. “Leave the city with me.”
She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide and her face red. “Do you really mean that? Would you really take me with you when you left? I—” she paused, touching the back of her neck. “Makoto—”
"I’m sorry I’ve just—I’ve been wanting to—"
But she laughed. She laughed and laughed, her fingers fluttering about her hair and her mouth until finally she reached out for him and then those gentle fingers were on his face and his neck, twisting into his hair that she so often commented was getting shaggy.
And then she kissed him, and he closed his eyes and he could see all the vibrant colors and hear the beautiful sounds he had always dreamed the city would have; it was there, in that kiss, in Gou, and it had been from the first moment he saw her and could do nothing but breathe the word beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, until the moment he had been kissed and then all he could breathe was love, love, love; it was in her laugh and pouring from her fingers and there was no going back.
He could not live without her.
***
Somewhere beyond the vast city there was a small village, where a princess lived with her prince…