The city was different. New, yet still old. Just as big and intimidating as ever. From a distance, it was bright and clean, the darkness of the overcast night helping accentuate the agonizing lights that stood out against the rest of the rough terrain. It had been four long years since he stepped foot in that place, but it was still so familiar that he didn’t feel out of place at all. Suddenly, those four years were gone and passed in the blink of an eye.
He was there again for one reason, and one reason only. No amount of pretty architecture or fallen walls would change that, even if he could appreciate that the city remained open. Even if it had caused a lot of areas to be more densely packed with people, it was a better decision that shunning the rest of the ugly world away to live in an enclosed utopia.
But, the place was no longer a utopia. No amount of good intention could ever make a place into one. As Nezumi walked through the streets and saw civilization once more (he had been traveling through open wilderness and sparsely populated nomad camps for months now), he was reminded of that bitter fact.
And then he remembered Shion. One of the only breathing people from the pre-fallen city to share his beliefs in that way. His only reason for ever coming back to the place that had wronged him so. With his hood over his face, he made his way through the streets to the central office center. If Shion wasn’t there, he’d continue to search, but something told him he wouldn’t have to.
The new openness of the city meant that such a building had minimal security and regulation. The citizens could go wherever they wished to, really, and seeing this in action calmed Nezumi’s nerves a bit. Even if Shion had changed during his rebuild of the city, at least the people were still free.
Up the stairs he went, to the very top floor. Several signs he saw pointed up there, with only “Director” describing the route; if anyone were the director of the rebuilding committee, wouldn’t it be Shion?
Finally making it to the top, he gave pause at the large, double office doors. They were made of glass, but frosted and hard to see through. The only way he knew who it belonged to was the nameplate beside the door, reading that familiar name from years ago — a squeak from his shoulder averted his gaze and he raised his eyebrow at the mouse sitting there.
“Excited to see him?” at the following squeak, Nezumi smiled. “Yeah, me too.”
To his surprise, the doors were unlocked. A dim light gave shadows to the room behind a large desk, filled with paperwork and electronic devices. Nezumi had to admit he didn’t feel completely fit to be in such a place (he swears he’s picked all of the leaves out of his hair), but after seeing the fluff of white hair on the outside balcony, he didn’t find himself caring too much.
He leaned against the wall inside the room, watching Shion from the shadows, counting down the final seconds before he’d be caught. If there was any desire left in him to turn around and go back, never to return, he could do so now, but the thought never crossed his mind at all. His feet were fixed, just like his gray eyes. With crossed arms and a casual demeanor, he waited patiently.
Thunder cracked in the distance.
Nezumi wondered if he’d get to watch Shion scream again, just like the day they met.