When mortals love, they give each other the ability to hurt.

  They reveal their weaknesses. They expose needs. They lower defenses.

  And hope it won’t get used against them.

  Record Fifteen - Lia

  “ Orihime!… “

  A wooden puppet muttered the words in a slightly squeaky voice.

  The two girls sat on the ground in the very front row. Around them, other kids wiggled and whispered. Someone behind them was crunching on an apple too loudly.

  A ten year old Lia sat with her legs folded neatly, hands resting on her knees at first, but she had slowly leaned forward as the show went on.

  Mina, on the other hand, sat with one leg folded and the other stretched slightly to the side. She kept shifting every few minutes because “the ground was hard.” She was nine years old.

  The puppet stage was small and simple. It looked like a portable wooden stand, about the size of a wide TV, painted in bright colors that had chipped at the edges. Blue curtains hung at the top, slightly wrinkled. Tiny paper stars were taped across the top.

  Behind it, someone was clearly crouching. Every now and then the curtain wiggled slightly too much.

  A puppet with long black yarn had stepped forward. Her kimono was made from folded fabric scraps, pink with tiny white flowers draw on. Her face was carefully painted, eyes large and shiny. On the other side, another puppet had appeared. He wore a blue outfit and held a small cardboard cow.

  The narrators voice changed slightly for each character as the show went on.

  An hour later.

  The narrator concluded, “ And so, they wait each year. For one night. Under the stars.”

  The children clapped loudly.

  The girls pushed themselves up from the ground with the rest of the children.

  Everyone begun dusting themselves off at the same time. A small wave of coughing and sneezing erupted. The small crowd slowly scattered as families and friends began heading home.

  The sky had turned soft orange now.

  “I AM HIKOBOSHI!” Lia shouted, suddenly jumping in front of Mina with her arms stretched wide.

  Mina giggled softly.

  “No you’re not! Hikoboshi is a boy! You’re the cow!” a boy yelled while sprinting past them. Three of his friends followed him, all laughing way too loudly.

  Lia’s eyes widened.

  “YOU SMELL LIKE SOCKS!” she screamed back.

  The boy stopped mid-run and turned around.

  “I do NOT!”

  “DO TOO!”

  He marched back toward them, face already turning red. His friends hovered behind him like back up dancers.

  “Take it back!”

  “No.”

  Beat.

  Then she lifted one finger dramatically and pointed straight at him.

  “I hope you get COOTIES.”

  The boy gasped.

  His three friends gasped.

  Mina gasped.

  A random kid walking by also gasped like he just got hit with the curse too.

  The boy’s mouth wobbled. Just a little at first. His eyebrows lifted upward in the middle, pulling his whole forehead into that fragile, crumbled shape kids get when they’re trying not to cry but absolutely are about to.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  He sucked in one shaky breath, then the tears came. He spun around dramatically and ran, crying hard. His friends scrambled after him in panic.

  The girls looked down the road where the crying was fading into the distance.

  They both exhaled and continued walking.

  They walked in silence for a minute.

  “The show was fun,” Lia finally said.

  “Mmm,” Mina answered. She walked with her hands clasped behind her back, kicking a small pebble every few steps.

  Other children ran past them, still hyped from the puppet show.

  “Are you going to get married?”

  Mina blinked.

  “Yes. When we get older we have to.”

  “Why?”

  Mina shrugged. “That’s what grown ups do.”

  Lia shook her head immediately. “I’m not going to marry anyone.”

  Mina stopped walking.

  “You have to get married!”

  “No I don’t”

  Mina turned fully toward Lia now, serious. ‘If you don’t get married, you will die.”

  Lia stared at her. “Heh?”

  “You’ll die.”

  “I’m not going to die.”

  “Yes you are. Because you will get lonely and then you will die.”

  Lia’s mouth fell open. Now worried.

  “Really?!”

  Mina opened her mouth to answer. A few days earlier…

  She had been sitting on the outside stairs at home, halfway through tying her shoelaces, when she heard voices.

  Her mom. The neighbor.

  “Did you hear about old lady Han?”

  “She passed away this morning.”

  “Oh… that poor woman.”

  “She never married, right?”

  “No children either. She was always alone in that house.”

  “She must have been so lonely.”

  Mina remembered picturing the small house two streets down. Other children often referred to it as the haunted house and often dared each other to knock on the door. The curtains were always half closed.

  So in Mina’s head, the pieces connected in the simplest way possible.

  No marriage ? lonely ? died

  Her brain had filed it under : This is what happens.

  (Old lady Han had died of a sudden heart attack for laughing too much. Also she was very much happy alone)

  Back on the side walk, Mina frowned slightly at Lia.

  “It is,” she muttered.

  Lia walked a few steps ahead this time, slower than before. Then, she stopped walking and turned slowly to face Mina. Mina almost walked into her.

  “Then I will marry you.”

  Mina blinked.

  *******

  The two lovers in the sky.

  Long ago, high above the night sky, there lived Orihime, the weaver princess. She was the daughter of Tentei, the sky king.

  Orihime spent her days weaving the most breathtaking cloth. Robes for the heavens themselves. The stars shimmered brighter because of her work. But despite her skill, her heart was lonely. She wove endlessly beside the Amanogawa, the heavenly river (Milky way)

  Seeing his daughter’s quiet sadness, Tentei arranged for her to meet Hikobishi, a humble cowherd who lived on the opposite side of the river. Hikoboshi tended celestial oxen with devotion and kindness.

  They met.

  They fell in love.

  Immediatley.

  After marrying, the two lovers became inseparable. Too inseparable. Orihime stopped weaving. Hikoboshi neglected his oxen.

  The sky’s order began to unravel. Robes went unwoven, oxen wandered freely across the heavens and chaos quietly crept in.

  Tentei was furious.

  As punishment, he separated the lovers, banishing them to opposite sides of the Amanogawa. No crossing. No meetings. Just endless distance.

  Orihime wept so deeply that the stars themselves seemed to dim.

  Moved by her sorrow, Tentei finally relented. Just a little.

  He declared that once a year, on the seventh night of the seventh month, Orihime and Hikoboshi could meet again. But only if they had truly returned to their duties.

  Every year, that night comes.

  If the sky is clear, a flock of magpies flies up and forms a bridge across the Milky way, allowing the lovers to cross and reunite, even if only for a few precious hours.

  If it rains?

  The river swells. The bridge disappears. And the lovers must wait for another year.

  This reunion is celebrated as Tanabata (the star festival). Mortals write wishes on colorful paper strips called Tanzaku, hand them on bamboo branches and hope the stars will listen.

  …PRESENT…

  The fireworks thundered above them.

  The world felt strangely quiet. Her chest felt tight. Warm. Full.

  “Elos.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I love you.”

  The words escaped.

  Clean. Clear.

  He turned.

  And the moment stretched.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Heh…

  What did I just say.

  Lia’s thoughts crashed into each other, loud and panicked and absolutely useless.

  Her face burned. Her fists clenched tighter.

  Another explosion burst in the sky, gold spreading across the sky.

  Below, couples stood shoulder to shoulder at the best viewing spots, some holding hands, some leaning into each other’s shoulders.

  She swallowed.

  “S.Sorry,” she finally said, her voice smaller now.

  Her cheeks were deeply flushed, a soft but intense red that refused to fade. Her heart picked up even faster.

  “Hey,”

  She flinched slightly and met his eyes again.

  “Why don’t we light some?”

  He was holding a box of sparklers. Thin sticks with a wire stem and coated tip that flared bright when lit. He’d won them earlier at one of the games he dominated.

  “Mmm.” she nodded.

  He shifted. Closer. He crouched in front of her. The distance between them shortened.

  He struck a lighter and lit the first pair. The lighter came with the sparklers.

  A soft hiss.

  Light bloomed at the tips, golden sparks spilling outward in delicate bursts. The tiny fireworks cracked gently, much quieter than the massive explosions above them.

  He handed one to her carefully. Their fingers brushed briefly.

  She stared at the sparkler in her hand as it shimmered and fizzed, tiny lights dancing at the edge of the wire. The glow illuminated her flushed cheeks and the nervous tension still lingering in her eyes.

  Above them, the last set of explosions roared.

  And far above, the stars Vega(Orihime) and Altair(Hikoboshi) shone on opposite sides of the Milky way, watching each other across the dark.

  Neither of them spoke.

  Elos held his sparkler loosely between his fingers, slowly twirling the thin metal stick once in a while. The fading sparks traced small circles in the dark, brief halos of light that disappeared almost as soon as they formed.

  Two cola bottles sat on the ground near their feet. From the snacks she had packed earlier.

  The first pair slowly thinned down into fragile orange threads, like tiny stars running out of breath.

  Elos reached for the box and pulled out another pair.

  She still hadn’t looked at him.

  Her hair rested loosely over her shoulders, soft strands sliding forward whenever she tilted her head down. The night breeze moved through it lazily, brushing it across her cheek.

  Out of the corner of her vision, she saw him move. She kept her eyes on the ground. Very focused on nothing.

  He leaned in. Her heart immediately started acting ridiculous again.

  He reached.

  His fingers brushed lightly against the side of her neck as he gathered the loose strands of her hair, sweeping them back gently.

  Her skin tingled where his fingers had grazed.

  He pulled her hair back from her face, one hand holding her hair together while the other reached for something. He pulled out a hair pin from the prize bag. He secured it at the back of her head, fastening her hair up and away from her shoulders.

  Because he was crouched in front of her, his arms naturally framed her. She felt completely surrounded by him.

  Her lashes lowered slightly. Her heart beat embarrassingly loud in her ears.

  He lingered for a second longer, the slowly retreated. He then picked up the sparklers. Lit one. Then the other. Then he held one out toward her.

  She lifted her eyes, just slightly and reached for it.

  The new sparks cracked softly.

  Moments later.

  The last sparkler stick faintly glowed, the tiny orange light shrinking smaller and smaller. The sparkler finally gave out. Silence settled around them. The distant festival noise had quieted too.

  “They’ve stopped the show,” he said gently, standing up.

  Then he held out his hand.

  She stared at it for a second, then slowly reached out.

  Her fingers slipped into his.

  His hand was warm.

  He pulled gently, steadying her as she stood.

  Then, before she could even process it, his arm slid firmly around her back, the other beneath her knees and the world tilted as he lifted her clean off the ground

  Again.

  She squeaked.

  Her hands hovered for half a second, before slowly sliding up to rest against his shoulders.

  Again, she couldn’t speak.

  Again, she couldn’t look at his face.

  He adjusted his hold just slightly, pulling her a fraction closer to secure his grip. Carefully his hands slid to her waist to steady her. Then, slowly he dipped down toward the bags on the ground.

  He straightened back up smoothly, the bags, now hung securely in his left hand.

  He adjusted his grip once more, holding her close against him.

  Then turned toward the stairs.