joy.

Within the solitude of a sacred cathedral, a young Evangelique with round, rosy cheeks and unkempt curls of hair walked beside her mother.

She was a lithe woman with a thin countenance and drooping, doe-like eyes. She existed with the grace and poise of a dancing renaissance painting in her veins. Blooming with undying purity, she was a breathtaking masterpiece that no painter could never capture with his tools.

“Mama,” said Eva, looking up to her mother’s pearly face. “What is joy?”

Her mother looked down at her with glassy, lavender eyes. Her rose red lips opened slightly, preparing to speak.

“It’s a happiness stronger than happiness,” she stated softly.

“What do you mean?” inquired Eva.

“Well, think of it this way,” started her mother. “Happiness is like a drop of rain; it arrives within a moment and disappears the next. It does not last. Joy is the ocean. It is vast and unending to our eyes. The depths of joy are unreachable, and we cannot easily forget their glistening waves and crashing chorus.”

“Oh...” breathed Eva in understanding. She looked down at her polished shoes and lacy stockings. She could see her reflection in the shine of her raven black shoes.

“But Mama...” she began again. “Where does joy come from?”

“Joy can come from many things, Eva,” she replied tenderly.

“So you can bring me joy?” asked Evangelique. She turned to her mother, whose eyes had widened.

Woebegone flushed her face, and her lips quivered slightly. Lassitude traced the edges of her eyelids, and a forced smile grew upon her pale face.

“I suppose I can, my dear,” said her mother, who attempted to hide her trembling.

She looked away from her daughter and towards the angels carved in marble. They loomed over the altar with their harms and draping garments. Frozen in time, they would forever remain in worship.

“But Eva...you must know,” started her mother with solemnity. “One day, I shall pass away. I cannot be your source of joy, for if I am, you shall never be happy.”

“Then, what should be my source?” asked Eva, puzzled by her mother’s sudden melancholy.

“From Elohim, the Creator King,” her mother said.

With her left hand, she reached for her daughter’s tiny fingers and held them securely. She looked down at her daughter, who gazed in awestruck wonder.

The soft silver lighting of the rainy day graced the threads of her mother’s hair, almost forming a halo. Though her face became shadowed, her beauty and wonder shone in a smile that expressed past grief and present peace.

On a golden Sunday afternoon, Evangelique walked the streets of Mumei alone. It had been three days since she last saw Tsubaki. After that night, he fell unconscious due to the overtaxing of his body.

As she walked the snow-dusted roads, Eva recalled the days and what each minute held.

A violent rage broke through the halls of the dormitory on the snowy night. Augustine and Ago quarreled for hours, their voices straining the lifespan of the candles’ flame. WIthin the midnight hours, the divisive conversation ended with a haunting silence with no resolve or conclusion.

Ago parted ways with everyone, silently excusing himself. Evangelique noticed a stone-cold disdain written in the stiffness of his complexion but feared to speak to him.

Augustine let his head fall into his hands for only a moment. He used his hands to brush back his flyaway locks and quickly exhaled as he stood to his feet. He exited the living quarters of the dormitory with an unnerving composure. Cyril followed after him, but only in vain. His brother rejected him, leaving the jovial spirit of Cyril in silence.

Althia and Yasha encouraged Evangelique, promising her it wasn’t her fault that Augustine and Ago weren’t on good terms.

Eva knew this and understood it, but she still felt guilty.

She had prayed over the decision to become a Lieutenant. Time after time, the conviction to become one stood firm and true within her heart. When the time came to proclaim her choice, she knew she was doing what was right.

Even still, it pained her to see the discourse her actions brought forth.

Evangelique sighed slowly, clutching onto wavy strands of maroon hair. She set her gaze upon a Romanesque cathedral to her right. It was Saint Jeremiah’s Cathedral, where Ago had preached earlier that morning.

Eva began to walk closer to the building and soon entered through its wooden doors.

Inside, detailed stained glass colored in hues of cinnabar, heliotrope, mazarine, and saffron dyed the smooth, wooden pews. In the center of the cathedral was a pulpit covered with a red velvet cloth. A large, circular window behind the pulpit let colorful light dance upon the wood. An organ sparkled with the golden sunlight.

Evangelique’s heeled boots echoed softly upon the dark marble floor. As she walked towards the pulpit, she recalled the last conversation she ever had with her mother.

In a small cathedral in Aleiliyo, she and her mother had conversed about joy and its eternal source. The topic was joy and its eternal, undying source. She learned it existed through the sunlight of a euphoric day and remained in the sorrows of a miserable night.

“My brethren...” she whispered to herself, recalling sacred words a Hitsujikai said at her mother’s last service. “Count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.”

She exhaled shakily as the scripture she quoted dropped from her lips. She had grown up with the mentality of counting her sorrows and blessing being thankful for them, even when she wanted to be bitter.

But at this moment, how could she?

There was variance between Augustine and Ago, all because of her choice. The tension was like a weight upon her chest, causing her to feel suffocated by it.

Then there was Tsubaki.

Her words felt useless when she saw his all of his grief and grudge. Every decision she made was like attempting to control the currents of a rushing river. The criminal killed himself, and Tsubaki was left at his limits, bleeding out in the snow.

After all the defeat he displayed that night, would he even want to see her?

Evangelique fell on her knees, looking up to a rugged cross.

“Elohim...” prayed Eva, her voice cracking. “I don’t want to see Tsubaki hurt anymore; I want to see him smile. I want him to know he isn’t alone. I want him to laugh, to smile, and to be happy.”

Tears dripped from her face, onto the floors. She grimaced as the stinging saltwater flowed from her.

“Please, give him my joy...” she sobbed. “I don’t care if I never smile again, just please let him smile!”

“Miss Eva...” whispered a sympathetic, gentle voice. Eva turned around quickly, her tears flying from her eyes.

Tsubaki stood steadily, much to her surprise. He wore his captain’s uniform and white scarf, which faint traces of blood upon its wooly surface. His hair was kept back by his pointed ears, revealing his two scars. A delicate glow surrounded his expression.

Eva got up quickly, wiping her tears away with the sleeves of her red satin dress.

“I-I didn’t know you were awake...” stammered Eva, sniffling. “I’m glad...”

“Miss Eva, I--” began Tsubaki.

“How are you recovering? Are you feeling alright?”

“Miss Ev-”

“If you need anything, please let me know, I would be happy to hel-”

“Eva.”

Evangelique gazed at Tsubaki with eyes of wonderment. With boldness, he had spoken her name. Solemnity graced his posture. His auburn lips curved into a small smile and his dark eyebrows furrowed gently, displaying the assurance he held in his emerald eyes.

“I’m not alright,” said Tsubaki earnestly. “As you heard, I’m dying...and it hurts. I don’t think I could ever recover from what I have faced. Truthfully, I’m scared of what has become of me.”

He began to walk closer to Evangelique, his footsteps graceful like a dancer upon a stage.

“Losing Eleanor still breaks my heart,” he stated achingly. “She’s gone forever in that place of peace, and I shall not dare to steal her away from there. But in my dreams, I recalled her love. There was a joy in her, and I searched for it in her when she was still alive. So when she passed away, I lost all desire to continue living. I thought she was the only source of joy on this earth.”

He lifted his left hand to his face as he began to tremble. Drops of diamonds formed at edges of his eyes, catching hold of the sunlight that entered the windows.

“But I’ve seen your kindness and care, and in that, I’ve realized there is a joy far more magnificent than us all. Eleanor carried it in her soul; I’m certain of it.”

Within the ribcage of the roof, the fluttering of dove wings echoed. A set of wind bells chimed through the holy halls of the church.

Tsubaki released a breath from his lips, seizing composure for his next set of words.

“I want to pursue that joy,” he spoke steadily. “I want to understand its source and be pursued by it as well. I want to know where the joy Eleanor had come from and hold it within my soul even when I’m in tears.”

A gentle blush warmed his pale face, and his smile grew radiantly.

“So if it’s alright with you...can I learn more about that alongside you? If I never recover from my past but chase true joy, is that a life worth living? Though I am imperfect and broken, is it okay if I live such a life with you?”

Evangelique’s mouth opened slightly, almost as if she was in awe. Every joyful day and painful night of her existence created her story, just like every other person.

She would never stop missing her mother; she would never stop wondering whatever happened to her father. But in her desire and pursuit of a redemptive joy, all of her darkness and weaknesses were made into bittersweet reminders of Elohim’s love for her and the world around her.

Could it be that Tsubaki had begun to see that valuable knowledge?

“We don’t always recover from what we have suffered through,” she replied. A bubbly, tearful laugh left her mouth. “But that’s okay because there is grace and growth for us. The joy, Elohim himself, meets us where we are.”

Tears rushed down her face once again, but there was no despair in her heart. An elation burst in her heart, overtaking her troubles.

“As long as there is joy from above, we have the freedom to be both broken and beautiful.”

Tsubaki covered his face with his left arm.

“I’m so glad...” he whispered, sniffing. He removed his arm from his face and to Eva’s wonder, she saw the most beautiful smile she had ever witnessed, accompanied by the most delicate of tears.

She drew close to him and embraced him tightly, laughing and crying. Tsubaki was taken aback, but only for a moment.

He continued to smile, holding Evangelique close with his long arms.

The saudade of dreamless nights was set aside by the faint angel song humming in the pipes of the organ. The saturation of the stain glass’ color overcame the melancholia of their yesterdays, blessing their hearts with sanctuary.

Between the two, in the cathedral known as Saint Jeremiah’s, hope glimmered in every ray of sunlight. The architecture around surrounded them with an otherworldly peace and hope.

Heaven’s hosts surrounded them, disguising themselves as apricity.

The unseen, yet revealed hand of Elohim safeguarded them indeed, His grace and mercy amplifying in every corner of His holy home of reverence.

A beautiful friendship had begun--and no tragedy could destroy the joy they shared at that moment together.

--|joy: book one: the blossoming: fin.|--