bodhiweek day 5 alternate universe? Bodhi from the modern world goes world hopping! just like. if a modern day bodhi traveled through different universes. idk i was reading tsubasa reservoir chronicles, sue me . i dont even like this that much but watever
This is, by Bodhi’s count, the fifth world he’s been to, and the 103th day. Almost a third of a year since he’s been home, since he’s seen his friends. He tries to keep track of the days, in a little notebook he carries around, but it’s meaningless and he knows it: a day in this world isn’t the same as the day in the last world, and possibly none of these worlds align with the time of the world he’s from.
It’s dangerous and exciting to be a traveler between worlds, but lately Bodhi’s just been lonely.
That doesn’t mean this world isn’t interesting, though. The sky is pink, which makes Bodhi feel warm all the time. He takes a picture with his camera and then tucks it carefully back in his coat – he doesn’t know if it matters, since people seem to have flying cars.
In the last world he was in, they hadn’t discovered electricity, and he’d been looked at very suspiciously for his clothing (a bomber jacket) and his camera (not even fancy, but to people who didn’t have fluorescent lighting…). It had been snowing and Bodhi was wet, and cold, and had no money to buy a room at the inn or any stew.
But Bodhi’s always been good at making friends. He tells good stories by the fire and he asks if anyone’s seen a girl who looks like him, a little shorter, with lighter brown eyes. He draws a picture for people to look at: please, she’s my sister.
No one had seen her there. In the last country, it had been snowing, soft and wet. It used to snow in the desert in the deep of winter, though it could never be called warm, even in summer. Someone lends Bodhi a cloak and he gambles his way through the rest.
He stayed there 15 days, doing whatever needs doing: sewing, hunting, taking care of horses. Like with every new world, he learns something new.
This world, he’s immediately stopped by the flying cars and the tall buildings. One man zips by on a motorcycle, hovering in the air, and Bodhi is so envious he stands on the corner for longer than he should, taking it all in. Everything is so sleek and shiny and white, he can barely stand to look at it. Maybe that’s why everyone is wearing sunglasses.
“Are you one of those retros?” Someone asks.
The woman asking has neon green eyes and blue hair and a huge grin. “Oh, you totally must be! A real-life retro! You don’t even have a biometric chip, do you?”
Bodhi blinks at her. “I don’t even know what that is,” he says truthfully, because it doesn’t seem like she was going to care or sound an alarm or anything like that.
She gapes at him. “Wow,” she says, and something in her left eye glows. “You’re totally unchipped!”
“I think so,” Bodhi says. “I’m, uh, new in town?”
“Oh, you have got to let me pick your brain,” she says, “Can I treat you to a coffee?” and that’s how Bodhi makes a friend in this world.
It usually goes like this, honestly. By the end of their coffee (three cups), the woman, Mari, has essentially explained the entirety of this futuristic world to him. He’s told her the basics – he’s from a rural area (not really, but he thinks anything would be rural compared to this), he’s looking for his sister, and he has memory problems (he does, but it won’t affected anything here, he just says it so people won’t find him strange when he doesn’t know basic concepts). Bodhi’s showed her his camera and his watch, and she’s told him he can stay with her for a few weeks, so long as she can continue to pick his brain.
It’s an easy trade, Bodhi agrees and then spends thirty more minutes grilling her about the basics of these chips. She seems to think that there are rural communities who refuse to use any basic brain or data chips, and since Bodhi’s pretty sure he’s chipless, it’s fine if she wants to believe that’s where he’s from.
Mari is nice, but that’s part of the problem. Bodhi spends seven days with her, doing odd jobs and such. She convinces him to come along to her engineering lab, which is thrilling, but mostly he’s just sad that he knows he has to leave. This is the price he paid to follow his sister.
When the witch of time and space had asked him what he’d give, he’d said “Just about anything.” His sister was his entire life.
“Fair enough,” she replies. She passes him a watch with long cool fingers. “This will take you to dimensions. It will follow your sister.”
“Will I be able to catch up with her?”
“Yes, but I can’t say how long it will take.”
Bodhi slips the watch onto his wrist. It doesn’t tell the time, just shows a ticking hand that goes much faster than a minute. “What is the price?”
“Your connections,” the witch replies. “You’re someone who cherishes every person you met. You will not be able to take anyone with you, or tell anyone where you’ve come from. You will make friends but be unable to truly connect, because you will be leaving their world forever in a matter of days.”
“What about the friends I have here?” Bodhi asks, too aware of Cassian standing at his back.
“That is not the price,” the witch says. Cassian reaches out and just for a second, his hand lands on Bodhi’s back, just between his shoulder blades. It calms him.
“Then I’ll pay it,” Bodhi says.
“Best be off, then,” the witch says, and vanishes. Bodhi barely has time to turn around and look Cassian in the face before the watch face glows and Bodhi’s flying, disappearing, gone.
It hurts, all of it – making friends that mean nothing, though they mean everything to Bodhi, missing Cassian – the watch has taken him back home, a few times, though it’s been 103 days by his count since. He misses them. He misses his sister.
He eventually has to leave Mari, too. He doesn’t have a chance to say goodbye, like he hasn’t had a chance to say goodbye to anyone. He’s holding a wrench and the watches glows and he says “Oh, Mari -!” and then he’s gone, the wrench he’s holding coming with him. This is why he has a habit of wearing his backpack with him everywhere. He’s left too many things behind.
He knows this kitchen. He knows that man, looking at the swirl of magic. “Cassian!”
He drops the wrench and throws himself at Cassian, who staggers back. It smells like he’s making coffee and bacon. “What was with the wrench,” Cassian says, laughing. “You wanted to take me out?”
“Never,” Bodhi says. He refuses to let go. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Bodhi,” Cassian says. “Welcome back.”