Flight School: Predator

Looking through the dark for a light

"Don't be silly," Pipa prodded his elbow. "I'll be fine. Take my umbrella. Yours looks absolutely horrendous," she glanced pointedly at the pink polka-dotted umbrella that belonged, in fact, to the previous owner of the dorm he and Jiro slept in currently, shaking her head in dismay.

Io thanked her shortly, taking her large yellow umbrella that suited his friend immensely before bidding her a reluctant goodbye. "At least you'll like my new uniform."

"You think?" Her eyes lit up absentmindedly. "Does it look like Luka's?"

"Maybe," the sparrow replied mysteriously, purposefully avoiding her curiosity as he gave a final wave and closed the door behind him.

*

He had forgotten to tell her about the field trip.

The boy sighed as he dragged himself across the grounds towards the predator's dormitories—for the third time of the day really, he should be thanking the skies for such an opportunity, bestowed upon him by the skies above and yet, he didn't.

What made him so sure that he could, by some miraculous fortune, run into the person he had been searching for the entire afternoon? Surely, no authority would grant him the joy of having his wish fulfilled. Not in this world. Not in this story, really. Perhaps not in any story at all.

But tales worked in mysterious ways and mysterious ways they did,

for Iolani Tori was crossing the grounds between the prey and predator's nests when he saw something he thought out of a...dream.

Luka? Said the boy in his mind but it was the rain pattering against his umbrella that filled the absence of a response. Luka. It's Luka.

A couple of metres away, the eagle stopped in his tracks. For once, he was so caught up in his thoughts—thinking about someone—when he failed to realize that the very person he was thinking of was really, right before his eyes.

But for all intents and purposes, this was not an uncommon mistake that they as human beings would make every now and then. In fact, they often forget to remember what they have simply because it was just easier to remember what they didn't have.

The sparrow stared at the eagle—the eagle who had an umbrella over his head and another, in his hand. He didn't know what to say.

"Is that for me?" He posed bluntly, gaze pure. "That umbrella."

The eagle followed his gaze. "Yes."

And then there was the sound of the rain against his umbrella; the whisper of its shower. Io found that he missed the silence between them both. It was a treasure—everything was, really—when it came to certain people. We often see gold in the words they speak, the air they breathe and the promises they keep. It was the little things. The little things that we value.

"I haven't seen you lately," Io began, "why weren't you at class?" I mean, at least go because I would. Go because you'd see me there—be there because...because I would like to see you.

But then he found that thought rather selfish in its nature. Just because he would like Luka to be there didn't necessarily mean Luka felt the same way. So he didn't say it aloud.