AmericaXReader: Hetalian Delivery Service

[Chapter 1]
~*~*~*~  

    Lying in the warm grass and watching the white, fluffy clouds roll by: you listen absently to the small radio that rests by your head, close to your right ear. The smell of freshwater drifts by in the constant breeze; the grass rustles endlessly, churning like the lake itself. You can hear the far away voices of the villagers: faint against the sounds of the world around you.

The radio booms with a heavily accented French voice. “You just have to confess how you really feel, and don’t be afraid, because if they truly are the one for you, then they will feel the same way! If they are not, then pick yourself up and keep searching! The journey of love is not foreign to any of us! Now then, let us get on with the weather…”

You continue to stare up at the sky, listening keenly now that he is done with the mushy stuff and getting onto important matters.

“The skies are constantly clearing up thanks to the high-pressure winds rolling off of the mountains. Mild winds will be coming in from the west, pushing the clouds out to the east. There will be constant sunshine over the next few days and temperatures will be pleasant…There will be a dazzling, full moon tonight, so if you’ve been planning something special, the weather permits: tonight just might be the night.”

   You reach over and shut off the hand-held radio, muting the male French voice instantly. You sit up, looking out to the shimmering blue lake. You’ve made up your mind; tonight will be the night.

Hurriedly, you leave the peaceful atmosphere to return home. Up the dirt trail you go, past a biker whom waves politely. You return the greeting while speeding past; across the small land that surrounds your home and through a hole in the white picket fence that is supposed to keep out freely roaming pets.

“Iggy, wake up! Tonight’s the night!” you call while hurrying through the yard and up to the opened greenhouse window (your cat looks up in surprise from his place of daily napping). You lean through, nearly out of breath from the run.

“Oi, mum—oh!” Your eyes land upon a person who is clearly not your mother sitting at the small, white table. “Hello, Miss Elizabeta!” You continue on, forgetting to let Elizabeta speak due to your excitement, “Mum, mum! There are going to be clear skies tonight! And guess, guess! Radio said there’s gonna be a perfect full moon!”

You can’t see your mother’s face, for her back is to you as she pours a bright green liquid into a beaker with swirling, blue fluids. The flowers all about the greenhouse that cover every available surface make your insides light and feathery.

   “Did you borrow your father’s radio again without asking?” she asks, though doesn’t sound very strict.

“He doesn’t mind at all!” you inform her breathlessly and dash around to the door, where you crawl through and stop at your mother’s side, nearly jumping with excitement.

“Pardon me, Miss Elizabeta,” you turn briefly to her. Elizabeta sits at the table with a wide smile; her cascading, wavy, brown hair tumbling down her back, held away from her face by an orange flower. She giggles a little but before she can say anything, you turn back to your mother again.

“This is the perfect night for me to leave,” you cry, hopping from foot to foot. Your mother looks down at you; her hair is braided up into two rolls on either side of her head; her chocolate eyes are just as wise and bright as ever; she wears a traditional black Qipao of silk, embroidered with soft blue gems that form a large flower; the sleeves stop just above her elbows, giving her working room.

“You want to leave tonight?” she stops her work immediately. “[Name], you said you wanted to leave next month!”

“I know, I know, but the next full moon could be on a cloudy midnight! I have to leave on the perfect midnight, mum!” you turn on your heels and take off at full speed, leaving the greenhouse to pack your things in haste.

Your mother looks after you for a moment before turning to Miss Elizabeta with a shake of the head.

   “What’s this all about, Chun?” asks Miss Elizabeta pleasantly, still smiling.

Chunyan sighs heavily, focusing back on her work. “It’s one of our traditional customs that when a witch turns thirteen years of age, she is to leave home for one year to begin her training.”

Elizabeta nods a little, taking interest in a blossoming, crimson flower.
“[Name]’s thirteen now? Goodness, aren’t we getting old?” she teases, although, Elizabeta is in her early twenties.

“Aiyaa, I agree! She seems so young to be leaving now…”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Nene! [Name]’s a wonderful girl, she can do anything when she puts her mind to it.”

“I know,” Chunyan’s shoulders drop. “But she can hardly fly straight on her broom, aru! And I haven’t had any time to show her how to properly mix potions, either.”

Your mother sits down at the table across from Miss Elizabeta, setting her concoction of vividly glowing golden liquid bottled up tightly.

“It’s all a part of growing up,” Elizabeta sings lightly. “We live and we learn! You of all people value that saying, so we should put complete faith in her. Everything will turn out just fine! She’s got a lot of heart and undying courage…just like her mother.”

Chunyan blushes slightly, propping her elbows against the table and laughs a little.

~*~*~*~

   “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, Iggy!” You jump up and open up your wardrobe to fetch more clothing to take along on your journey. “We’ve planned to leave on the perfect night, right?!”

Iggy, your cat with beige and orange spotted fur, shakes his head animatedly.
“I don’t recall that. Our plan was to stay for another month to be safe. Why not keep that plan? I fancy that plan.”

You snort a reply and rush over to your dresser, pulling out various garments, adding to the bundle in your hands. You run to the middle of the room where your luggage awaits and dump the bundle inside carelessly. Iggy watches your scurrying about, still protesting.

“God save the Queen, I hope you’re not serious!”

   You pull out your money tin and rattle it slightly, checking its contents that you’ve been saving for this trip, and toss it into the luggage as well; Iggy glances at the radio nervously.

“Of course I’m serious! You know how excited I am for this!” You cram your belongings into your bag, but stop abruptly, hearing the sound of a car door closing. “Dad’s here!”

You sprint over to your window and swing it open; you spy him unloading camping equipment.

“Dad! Dad, dad, dad! I’m leaving tonight!” you call out. Your father stops his moving and looks up to where your voice sounds from. You can see the slightly puzzled look on his face; his blond hair absorbs the sunshine.

“You’re going away?” he asks.

“Yes sir! There’s a full moon tonight!”

“B-but what about the camping trip we planned? I just got all of the equipment form Gilbert—”

“Sorry ‘bout that, dad!” you run away from the window, leaving him speechless.

~*~*~*~

   You slip the dark robes over your head in front of the mirror; as excited as you were to wear them, you instantly come to disappointment.

“I think a different colour would look better on me instead of black…like white…” you fidget with the skirts. Your mother helps you straighten the fabric.

“Witches have worn this colour for a long time, aru.”

You observe yourself closely, deciding that it will have to do. Chunyan quickly hems a frayed edge of your robes.

“Be sure to write home once you get settled, [Name].”

“Yep! I’ll write you as soon as I get there!” you assure her. Anticipation is boiling up more and more and you feel as if you’re going to bust with joy.

Chunyan steps away and you twirl in a full circle; the black robs dance on the air like feathers and when you stop, they submit to gravity and fall down past your knees.

“I’ll go set her stuff downstairs, Ludwig,” Chunyan gathers your luggage and exits the room with a grin across her face.

“Oh, dad!” you exclaim as he enters the room. “Can I take the radio, please? Mum said I can borrow it, right mum?”

“I did,” her voice says from somewhere off in the house.

“Alright, Liebling, you can have it,” he agrees and kneels down so that his face is lower than your down as you look into his bold, azure eyes. “Promise me that you’ll come back home if things don’t work out.”

“And be a failure? Never!” you shake your head. “I’m going to be the very best witch I can be, and I know that if I try hard, I’ll succeeded!”

Ludwig smiles a little. “I’m proud of you,” he says quietly. You giggle and plant a large kiss on his cheek, and then throw your arms around him.

“I’ll miss you, dad.”

“I’ll miss you too, [Name].”

~*~*~*~*~

  The beautiful full moon (as promised) glows brilliantly against the dark, clear sky; the light pours over the world, glossing the grass, your home and everyone outside in a mystic, silver tint.  You give your farewells to your friends whom you’ve spent wonderful times with; you’re almost sad to leave them, but, as dad always says, duty calls. They’ll be here when you return a year from now.

“[Name], it’s midnight,” your mother approaches you, holding a large, bewitched broom. She sees yours as you approach and a slight frown comes across her face.

“Is that the broom you want to leave on?” she asks worriedly.

You nod grandly, holding it up for her to inspect properly in the moonlight. “Yep, I made it all by myself!”

But your hopes are tarnished by the tone of her voice.
“[Name], it’s really too small to be safe. I would prefer if you took this one. It has been passed down for many years, and it will be much safer.”

“But it’s so old!” you tell her in case she hadn’t noticed. Your friends and family that gathered to watch your departure all hush as if sharing the same concern.

“Which is how you know it will work,” says Chunyan finally.

“B—but I—”

Iggy speaks up from his place, safely tucked in your luggage slung around your shoulder.
“Your broom is lovely, dear, but let’s take your mother’s word on this one.”

“You’re not helping,” you groan and pout.

“Come now, [Name],” Miss Elizabeta steps out of the crowd and walks up to you. “You can make another fine broom when you make it to your destination.”

With a quiver of your bottom lip, you reluctantly, yet obediently, swap brooms with your mother. Then you stand on your tip toes to plant a kiss on your mother’s cheek, and then your father’s.

“Be careful,” instructs your father.

“Stay safe,” says your mother.

You promise to do both; “I will! Don’t worry!”

“Wait!” your mother reaches holds out a large medallion about the size of a football in diameter, bright red filaments that hang off from the bottom. “Take good luck charm with you!”

   You do so quickly but nearly fall over due to its weight. You stow it away and distance yourself; kicking your left leg over the broom and focusing all of your energy to leave the ground. The cheers of encouragement become faint; the only sound you can hear clearly is the blood pumping through your body, through your ears, and to your heart.

You gradually feel your feet leave the ground and a feeling like rising on a roller-coaster clutches your stomach, giving you the daring urge to rise higher.  Channelling your energy, you imagine yourself rocketing off like a shooting star.

The broom gives a sudden jolt forward and then jets skyward. You squeal and guide the broom forward without much thinking. Before you know it, you’re hurdling right for a tree.

 “Ouch! Owie! Eeek! I’m okay!!”  Your voice rings out through the mild night air. You focus again and steady the stick; you clear the trees. The perfect midnight sky opens by before you, the voices of your loved ones fall away, united and fleeting.

~*~*~*~