Hezo
Five years earlier
The thunder of hooves echoed along the dry road, raising red dust in the wake of the carriage rushing at full speed. Inside, Hezo slumped on the bench, his gaze dark, arms crossed stubbornly. His kita tunic, lavishly embroidered with golden threads, itched against his skin. He hated wearing ceremonial clothes. Especially today.
Sitting across from him, Fifamè watched him with a tenderness tinged with worry. She had that powerless nurse's look, the one you give to children who can no longer be reassured.
— Why is my father sending us to Edo? Hezo asked, his voice sharp with incredulity. Tell me the truth, Fifamè.
The woman straightened slightly, hands folded on her knees.
— Your father wishes us to stay at the Residence of Fire, in Sinji… for a while. He thinks the change of air will do you good. Ever since your mother left, you seem so unsettled. You'll see, the sea will do you a world of good…
— I don't care about the sea! Hezo exploded, sitting up abruptly. I want to know where my mother is!
A heavy silence fell inside the carriage. The wind whistled faintly through the joints of the wood. Fifamè's face hardened, her lips pressed together.
— She's gone… and she won't be coming back, Hezo. You know this.
Hezo turned away, jaw clenched. He was only ten, but he could feel the truth twisting beneath the adults' words. His mother wasn't like that. She would never have left without saying goodbye. Never.
She would never have abandoned him.
— He wants to get rid of me, he muttered, voice trembling yet certain.
Fifamè raised a hand to her mouth, shocked.
— Hezo, don't say that…
— Forget it, he cut in coldly, turning to the window where the dry trees blurred past.
The carriage jolted suddenly, then lurched to a stop. The horses whinnied in unison. Hezo frowned. They hadn't arrived… not yet. In front of them, a column of vehicles stretched to the horizon like a giant serpent.
— It's nothing, Fifamè tried to reassure him. This kind of traffic is common on the Edo road. Once the railway is finished, all this crowd will be gone.
By the roadside, the dry grass crackled under the harmattan wind, a vast yellow carpet swept by the gusts. For a moment, it had a strange effect on Hezo. He felt at peace.
Families had stopped to picnic. Street vendors, sheltered under small parasols, sold local treats: roasted corn, peanut cakes, chilled juices in multicolored algae sachets. Hezo's eyes lit up for a brief instant.
Fifamè noticed at once.
— We could stop for a bit, she said gently. Get some air…
He shook his head, stubborn. Then his gaze fixed on a golden ear of corn, steaming softly on the grill… and he gave in.
Moments later, Fifamè spread a cloth on the grass while Hezo strode toward the vendor. He walked with determined steps…when he saw her.
A girl was also approaching the stall. She looked about his age. Her fine brown locks fell neatly to her shoulders. When their eyes met, time froze.
Her eyes.
They were molten gold. And something in that gaze pierced through him like lightning.
A searing pain ripped across his chest. He clutched his hand to his torso. His heart was racing, hammering against his ribs as if it wanted to break free. His head burned. His legs wavered.
The girl, too, seemed caught in the same invisible storm. Her gaze shifted, changed, became… strange. One eye gold, the other silver.
And then everything collapsed.
They fell together, two frail bodies struck down by an unseen force. Darkness swallowed everything.
Voices. Muffled. Anxious.
Fifamè's distant cry.
Then nothing.
When Hezo opened his eyes, it was to the distraught face of his nurse.
— Mawu be praised… Young master! Are you all right?
He jolted upright, panting.
— How long?
— Barely ten minutes. A doctor said it was nothing… that you would wake quickly. Thank the heavens…
Ten minutes, Hezo thought. And yet… he'd had time to dream. Or to suffer a nightmare.
He followed Fifamè's gaze. The girl, too, had just gotten back on her feet, surrounded by a man and a woman with their backs turned to him. She looked perfectly fine. As if nothing had happened.
But he knew something strange had taken place.
— Fifamè… my eyes… Did they… change color?
She shook her head.
— I can't say. Your eyelids were already closed when I caught you.
— I see…
In truth, he was relieved. He didn't want to know.
The girl dusted off her dress and stepped back toward the stall. Hezo watched her from the corner of his eye. At last, he remembered what had drawn him there.
The corn.
He leapt up quickly. Behind him, Fifamè called, urging him to come back and taste the palace dishes she had brought. He paid no attention.
At the stall, the smoky aroma pulled him back to the present. The bright sachets of juice gleamed like jewels in the sun. The corn cobs sizzled neatly in rows, lined like soldiers. But only one truly held his gaze.
A cob… drizzled in caramel. A gleaming brown spiral ran over its golden kernels.
— Caramel! cried Hezo, at the same moment as the girl.
They stared at each other. This time, without pain. But with a burning determination.
The vendor raised the cob between them, amused.
— Only one left, children.
His smile faded when he saw their eyes. Two children. Two souls who had just clashed without knowing it, ready to battle again.
And this time, over a cob of corn.