Disclaimer: Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne is Tanemura Arina's property. Not mine
(though I really wouldn't object to having Chiaki or Access around the
house...)
For Tin, dearest oneechan.
This story assumes that the reader knows Zen's backstory, from either the
anime or the manga, and has some spoilers for the manga ending (as the
anime certainly doesn't measure up).
Minor note: 'ningenkai' is literally translatable as 'Human Realm' or
'Human World'. 'Tenkai' is 'Sky World' or 'Heaven'.
******************
Elements of Happiness
by Natsuki
******************
Another perfect day in Heaven, with only the occasional shadow of a
high-flying angel to block the sun from the green grass and white buildings
below. It was a perfect park, peaceful and calm, with nary a single blade
of grass or twig from the trees out of place. The scuff-marks of Zen's
sandals were instantly erased as he stalked across the broad expanse of
Heaven, wings and arms held at stiff angles to his body.
They'd been Watching the pool again, and that one woman. And they'd ordered
him out again, as they always did whenever the conversation or Watching
turned to that woman. Celcia and Toki had pulled one of their looks when
they'd thought he wasn't watching, exchanging amused glances at the young
angel's annoyance. There was something he knew about that woman, and it
wasn't fair that he was excluded. He was an angel, even if he was only a
kurotenshi.
In passing one of the apple trees, he kicked its trunk in a moment's
pique... and was rewarded by an apple dropped onto his head. "Damned tree,"
he muttered, rubbing at the abused spot as he glared at the canopy of
branches above him.
"You shouldn't say such things, things." The tone was gently chiding,
though amused. And, with that particular self-echo, it was an easy guess as
to its owner.
"I can say what I want, Celcia. Even if I am treated like a human child, I
can still talk, can't I?" He hated to have to bow and scrape to the
seitenshi; it was one of the few reasons he actually enjoyed Celcia's
intermittent company, as she didn't insist on formality or, in truth, many
manners at all. She simply liked to talk.
She seemed to be considering this, amused. "Ah, I suppose you can, indeed,
indeed. But if Riru-sama were to hear you, you would be tossed into double
training for the next eon, you would," she replied, picking up the apple
and offering it to him. "Since the tree gave you a gift, it shan't hurt to
eat it, it. At least-" Here, her expression turned somewhat more
contemplative, as though she were remembering a certain time past. "-that
was what Access always said."
Zen took the apple warily, polishing it on his chest and taking a bite with
relish. Forbidden -- or simply frowned upon -- fruits were always tastier,
for some reason. "The famous Access again. Why won't anyone talk about the
guy? Really, it's almost as though he was a datenshi, the way people mince
about the topic around me." He couldn't keep the sour note from his voice,
nor the irritated petulance. He'd been told that he was so childish because
he'd been young when he'd died, and that had simply served to irritate him
further.
Celcia looked faintly shocked, her eyes wide. "He wasn't a datenshi! There
hasn't been a datenshi for so long... how can you say that?" She truly was
shocked; one hand had flown up to her mouth, covering it so that the words
came out muffled, and without her usual self-echo.
Taking advantage of the chink in her armor, Zen pressed on. "Then who was
he? No-one will tell me, and I certainly can't just go and ask God, 'Oh,
hey, who was this Access guy and why won't anyone talk about him when I'm
around? And, oh, by the way, I'm being treated like some child whenever
someone's using the Pool to watch some woman.', now can I?"
"I wish I could tell you, Zen, but my time here is short enough as it is,
it is," Celcia said, shaking her head. "And it is a long story, and not a
happy one in places. And you would not wish to hear much of it, of it."
Frustration welled up in him, and he tossed the apple aside (it promptly
vanished upon hitting the ground) before sitting down upon the ground,
brows furrowed. "You've finally got enough power for what you want, then?"
he asked, glancing up at her through a fall of hair. "You're going back to
the ningenkai?"
"To be human again, again. And-" She sighed, her expression becoming dreamy
with remembrance. "-to see Maron again, again."
There. That name.
/A good name.../
It trickled into his memory and lodged there, a whisper of his own voice
coming out of the depths. "Maron?" he demanded suddenly, every muscle stiff
with some unknown anticipation. "Who?"
Celcia watched him for a moment, then shook her head. "It is nothing. You
should forget it, Zen, Zen," she said, then left, her skirts swishing
behind her. In her wake trailed faint trickles of memory, a vague sense of
unease settling upon Zen's wings and drawing them downwards.
"It is not for you to worry about, young Zen." Riru stepped out from behind
the tree, as poised as ever. As though she hadn't been eavesdropping on the
conversation. "You have training. Now go."
***
Time flowed differently here than in the ningenkai. In the span of only a
short, unmeasured time, Celcia and Toki had gone, all traces of their power
disappearing in one flash of light that had sent ripples over all of
Heaven. It wasn't an unknown thing, by the way that the older angels were
acting, but it was the first such occurence since he'd become a kurotenshi.
"Riru-sama, why did God give up one of his powers?"
They'd been studying the Garden of Eden, learning the story -- if they
hadn't known it already -- of Creation and of Adam. Zen was bored,
preferring to watch the clouds sail across the high blue sky rather than
pay attention. The question, coming from one of the other kurotenshi,
brought him thudding back to Earth -- or rather, Heaven.
Riru nodded at the question, faint amusement in her voice as she answered,
"For love. So that the soul of the first woman could live forever, as pure
as the day that she was Created."
"Why was it Eve, and not Adam, who God gave this power to?" Mika was one of
the brighter angels, having a higher power level than most in the class as
a result of constant studying and prayer and all the responsible activities
that Zen usually tried to shirk.
"That, Kurotenshi Mika, is a question you'll have to ask Him. As for
Adam... well, you may eventually learn his story as well. You may go now."
There was a definite chuckle behind her voice now, almost that evil teasing
note that every angel under her tutelage came to dread.
The class fled as quickly as possible, but Zen stayed under the pretense of
straightening his robes. He watched Riru turn away, considering. Did he
truly want to talk to the Head Angel as he had to Celcia? Celcia had been
one of the few seitenshi who weren't stuffed shirts; he had been able to
talk to her freely, and to get her often amusing opinions on his actions.
"Riru-sama... could you wait a moment, please?"
Riru stopped and turned, arching a brow at him. "Kurotenshi Zen, is there
something I can do for you?" She was never impolite, never unfriendly...
just restrained and older where Celcia had been buoyant and ever youthful.
"Ah... no." He couldn't talk to her.
***
Studies, training, power; they all melded into an endless whirl of this and
that, the interminable process of building up strength for missions to the
ningenkai was boring. And yet, with very little else to do save
occasionally tie up his fellow kurotenshi as a prank and try to Watch
without being caught, Zen threw himself into his work wholeheartedly.
He learned about demons, their evil nature and their way of infesting the
human spirit. There seemed to be fewer demons these days, with the sudden
loss of the Devil's power as a result of something that Zen could never
find out. He learned about Eve, but never about who she had been in her
following lifetimes; he was told that he had no need to know.
It was a conversation between a teacher and student that brought this
omission crashing down upon his mind.
"... And that, Mika, is why the power that God bestowed upon Eve was not
lost when Jeanne D'Arc was burned. It was transferred; the next Jeanne had
a double burden of that power because of this transfer."
"And Jeanne is still alive now, and Fin has been growing up? As well as
Access? As humans?"
"Precisely. Jeanne's power is now in Fin Fish; that was how she survived
the attack."
/Fin Fish... an angel. Jeanne... a thief./
The names dropped into his mind, crystal-clear and sharp, cutting away
pieces of foggy memory. Maron. Jeanne. Fin Fish. They were connected. Not
knowing what to do about these strange feelings, Zen fled, taking refuge in
the branches of an apple tree. The wind buoyed him up, but did not erase
the aching pain that lingered in his chest. It was impossible to dredge
more out of his memory save a feeling of worry, blackness and those three
names that had started everything. No pictures of their faces. Nothing save
the wind, and a sense of something precious slipping away from him as he
sank into that darkness.
***
He would not worry. He'd decided that long ago. The flow of time didn't
allow Zen to truly measure the days or weeks or months between the feelings
resurfacing and his first mission to the ningenkai; he refused to allow
himself to thing about those memories. They hurt.
/You may go, Zen/
"Thank you, Kami-sama."
As he left, there was a flicker of amusement in the light he was leaving
behind.
***
The air was more lively here, with scents and stenches that would have been
filtered out in Heaven. Zen filled his lungs with the ningenkai's air...
and promptly began to cough violently. Pollution to an angel would normally
have been nothing, save that this coughing wasn't only because of that. It
brought back the pain of something lost. Zen ruthlessly squelched the
emotion.
It was a quiet town, this one; a faint French air was in the winding
streets and arched bridges, in the peach trees blossoming along a river
that wound through a park. It was comforting, in a way, familiar to a
person long since dead, and yet still living in some walled-in corner of
his mind.
This was not an urgent mission, he had been told, but he was still not
supposed to linger in a world that wasn't entirely sure if it believed in
beings such as he. The rules had been changed only a short while ago, he'd
heard, as a result of a juntenshi's mistake of some sort. It was another
one of those mysteries that seemed to always become silent whenever he was
near, and he'd finally given up pursuing the elusive thread of a story that
no-one wanted to recall.
He paused, alighting in a tree that had grown old slowly, its branches
reaching not only up towards the sky, but reaching sideways for the wind to
trickle through its leaves, leaving the sunlight with an ever-dappled
effect. His wings, newly white, were tired, and that odd nagging pain in
his chest hadn't quite disappeared. "Maa. It'll go away. Probably just the
air."
"What's just the air?" This was an unexpected voice from below him; a small
boy lazed there, sprawled sinuously along a far-flung branch. His hair was
silvery-white, and, oddest of odd, he had a horn sprouting from his
forehead.
Zen ran a hand over his eyes in disbelief. "You can see me. This really
isn't fair, you know. People aren't supposed to see me. And especially not
people who look exactly like me." Even as he said it, he saw the truth in
his unconscious observation: save for the horn and the obvious differences
in their height, the boy and he were twins.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone, 'cause no-one wants to talk to
me anyway. Not even-" Zen could've sworn that the boy sniffled piteously,
acting like a very small child who'd lost their parents (though how he
could draw the comparison, he wasn't quite sure. At least the memory didn't
hurt, like the others). "-Noin-sama wants to talk to me right now."
"Oh." What else was there to say, truly? Sighing, Zen hopped down to a
small branch at eye-level with the other boy. "I'm Zen."
"Silk."
"Oh. Why can you see me, anyway?"
"Because I'm different from people. I'm..."
"Silk!" The full-throated roar jolted the pair of them out of the tree; Zen
momentarily forgot that his wings were not only there for status purposes
and fell flat on his rear end, and Silk fared no better. "Owww..." they
muttered in unison.
The person who'd managed to startle their wits out of them was standing
over the pair of them, the most peculiar expression upon his face. Zen
stopped rubbing his backside for a moment to stare straight back at the
human -- for that was what he seemed to be, with reddish-black hair tied
back in a short ponytail and dark eyes. For some reason, he just didn't
/feel/ quite right to Zen, with a darkness behind the human facade. He
dismissed it as hypersensitivity as the man addressed his companion.
"Silk. I've decided that you're forgiven. We should go now."
"But... Noin-sama..." Silk was confused; he kept looking over at Zen, then
back at Noin, his amber, cat slitted eyes perplexed.
Did all humans have cat-slitted eyes? Zen looked more closely at the boy,
frowning. As swift as thought, he backed away. "You're a demon. A weird
sort, but you're a demon no matter what you say." Demons were invariably
evil, he'd been taught. And none truly deserved more than a resting place
behind a seal created by the few who could do so.
If anything, the accusation made Silk's sudden smile grow brighter. "Yes!
And so's-"
"Silk, that's enough. I apologise, Zen," Noin said, clapping his hand over
Silk's mouth and smiling warily.
Another knock at the walls enclosing his old self brought Zen down to the
ground once again, coughing violently, his head aching fiercely in protest
of what was happening within it. Those walls were never meant to be
breached.
/Darkness engulfed him, while the rhythm of his heart became all the more
erratic and pain tore at his chest, forcing him to cough, spasming against
the invasion of something alien. All while something -- someone -- stood
over him impassively. Oh, it /hurt/./
The pain became too much. He allowed the darkness to overcome him, sweeping
away the hurt and the memory.
When he awoke, he lay as still as possible. The park's scent of windswept
grass and earth had vanished, replaced by a cooler, sharper tang to the
air. A voice both familiar and strange was raised in a torrent of words.
"Silk, do you remember /anything/ of what we did? To even speak to him
now... not only would we risk more angels realising who we are, but Jeanne
would be angry and hurt. That little angel that you couldn't leave behind
is the one who so nearly broke Jeanne's heart when we tried!"
It hadn't even occurred to him how this man knew his name; it was in
keeping with the world's conspiracy against him, to keep him from what he
needed to know. Zen sat up, stealthily fluttering towards the voices.
What greeted him was a scene out of that forgotten memory: a small dragon
perched upon a shoulder clad in ebon fabric while that figure paced back
and forth. It was a demon; every nerve in Zen was jangling a warning of
that very fact. It was evil. It couldn't be allowed to continue.
"And...." The demon -- Noin, he'd heard Silk say -- trailed off as he
looked directly at where Zen was lurking, frowning. "Damn."
Bitter, yet hopeful. Distrustful and wistful. The odd mixture of emotions
which were hammering at the walls in his mind made him step out into view,
fragments of the past and the clear picture of the present blending into
some vague pattern that, as yet, eluded him. "You knew me. And you know how
I died. And why I died. And you're a demon..."
... there's so much I want to ask you, but I can't trust you to answer me
properly.
The dragon's gentle touch drew him out of his thoughts. He flew backwards,
regarding the dragon with wary eyes until, in an odd elongation of limbs
and refinement of features, Silk stood in front of him, his expression as
wistfully clear as his master's was closed. "I didn't mean to scare you."
The face of good and the face of evil are so alike. Zen could feel a laugh
bubbling up in him, a half-hysterical release of tension. But he couldn't
laugh, not in this place, this time. "You're a demon, too. How can I trust
either of you? Just... let me go."
Noin gestured at Silk, and Silk bowed his head. "Fine. But..." And here,
his voice took on the same wistful quality as his expression. "I wish I
could talk to you."
The admission startled both Noin and Zen: they both stared blankly at Silk,
gape-mouthed and thoroughly confused for the briefest of moments before
Noin recovered and opened a window. "Go. Now." His voice was cold, a sharp
splinter of the coldest, most dangerous things Zen had ever heard or read
of.
He left.
***
The quiet sunshine of the day did not suit the confusion that surrounded
Zen. His mission, a simple check on the many temples and shrines of the
area, had easily been completed. It was time for him to go home,
technically. But he'd become too confused, with too many of those sharp,
jagged fragments of the wall that contained his memories jumbled around in
his mind.
A kurotenshi was trained as rigorously as possible until they reached
juntenshi, with all the lessons about life and creation and, most
importantly, demons, being taught by seitenshi. The lessons about demons
were the ones drilled into each student so that they would not stray...
... and yet, Zen had not been harmed by the two demons that he'd
encountered.
All his life as an angel had lay in accepting without question the details
of being an angel. Those details included a lack of trust in demons. Zen
struggled with himself as the very foundations of what he'd been taught --
Good and Evil -- warred with what he'd experienced.
He was back in the tree once again, surrounded by the shifting sunlight and
the light breezes that danced through the leaves. "I don't understand this
at all..." he said aloud, fingering a strand of golden-brown hair. "Is good
good, and is bad really evil?"
There was a dull crunch above him, then a sharp snap and a shower of small
sticks pelted downwards. A yelp, and a slightly heavier body landed almost
gracefully upon the very branch that Silk had been sprawled upon earlier in
the day.
The new arrival draped himself casually upon the branch, then stared up at
Zen with a mischievous grin. Purple eyes, black hair -- and he had focused
directly upon Zen with no effort at all. "Black and white is never a good
way to see things, you know. Grey is a much nicer color. But it's still not
as nice as green," the boy noted, then crunched cheerfully into an apple.
"Or purple, for that matter."
Zen boggled. The boy laughed. "I'm special. I have a certain link to
angels, you know. So don't be startled."
"I thought that was /my/ line," Zen replied, a trife sourly. It just wasn't
fair that he ran into everyone who could see him in one day, on his first
mission.
"It would normally be, but I already said that I've got a link to angels.
I'm not sure if my mother would be able to see you, but I sure can." He
arched a brow at Zen, purple eyes twinkling. "What does Riru call you,
then?"
Too stunned to really do much save stare at this odd human, Zen replied
automatically. "Zen. Juntenshi Zen."
"Shinji-" The newly-named Shinji nearly toppled out of the tree, saving
himself by a swift grab of the branch above him. His eyes no longer
twinkled, Zen noted. "Unless she's developed more of a sense of humor than
she ever had..." Shinji's voice was a mixture of hope and confusion, with
the faintest touch of wry amusement. He looked up sharply, focusing upon
Zen. "How long can you stay down for?"
Perplexed (as he'd been for most of the day), Zen replied, "I should really
go back now... I was-" How to say that he'd been rebelling against going
back to the day-to-day perfection that irritated something within him?
"-staying for a little longer."
Shinji cocked his head at Zen, a considering gleam in his eyes. He seemed
to understand, in more than one way, the frustration of living a life that
was so utterly perfect and yet still wanting something. Another crack
formed in the wall around his memories: he'd known this understanding
before. But the memory was still centered around a girl with wavy brown
hair and a gentle smile.
"Hey, Zen." Shinji's voice was worried, and the shadow of a large hand
passed in front of Zen's eyes. "You lost me for a second."
He gulped, fighting back inexplicable tears. "I think that I should stay
down here... just a little longer," he said in a choked voice. "There's
something I'm missing, and I need to know." For a wonder, the shards of
memory weren't hurting. They were warm, comforting; the sharp edges still
remained, but they didn't wound him deeply.
"Aa. Will you come with me, then?" There was no hint of a tease in Shinji's
voice now; merely a quiet, concealed happiness. "I think that there's
someone you should meet."
***
Even though that sense of suppressed happiness still lingered around his
guide, Zen was definitely perplexed. Shinji certainly didn't act his
apparent age -- thirteen or so -- and he continually muttered, as they
walked along, things such as, "Chiaki's going to kill me. Absolutely. But
he /knows/ that this is something that Maron hoped for." and "Why do I
always get stuck with this sort of responsibility? Dealing with everything.
Bah."
As they passed a small grocery store, a gust of wind caught Shinji,
spinning him off-center and causing Zen to lose his seat upon the boy's
shoulder. Sprawled upon the ground, they both glared up at the innocent
skies, raised their fists, and called, "That's /not/ funny!"
Of course, this earned them quite a few stares and blank looks.
Zen turned around, drawn by some inexplicable sensation -- did humans call
it 'deja vu'? -- to stare at the store they'd fallen in front of. The
shards of memory pressed at him, forcing him to try and remember the past
-- and this store. /My home... there was an apartment above the store.../
Even as the thought came, it disappeared behind the wall, leaving only a
bitter taste of something precious lost in his mouth. He turned away.
Shinji was watching him calmly from where he was still sprawled upon the
ground, an expression that, while not truly calculating, was measuring his
reaction to their location. He held out his hand for Zen, and stood.
"Someone sent you down here for more than just a trip around the local
shrines," he said cryptically.
As they walked, the buildings became sparser, the occasional house dotting
the streets instead of city buildings. There were no memories to revive
here, no choking cough to render him unable to speak; Zen relaxed upon
Shinji's shoulder.
A pixiesh figure bounced up to them, her green eyes focused upon Shinji
with a faintly amused gleam that matched her smile. "Your mother's looking
for you, Shinji. Did you do something /again/?" she asked. She was tiny by
human standards, with green hair down to her shoulders and a fragile air
about her. That fragile air was quickly dispelled as she arched a brow at
Shinji. "And why do you have a little toy on your shoulder?"
"I could tell you, Natsuki-chan, but you're not old enough to know."
And the fragility vanished entirely as Natsuki stomped on Shinji's foot.
"That's not /fair/!" she cried, then smiled. It was odd, this manner of
going from anger to understanding in a single moment. "But I think I know
anyway. Mama's inside. Papa's in his study, and he can probably save you
from Miyako-baasan." With that, she turned away, heading back towards one
of the houses. She paused in mid step, looking back over her shoulder --
and Zen could've sworn she looked straight at him and smiled. "I think I
would like to have a little brother."
Shinji choked for no apparent reason, then shook his head and walked
through the door that Natsuki had come out of. "She knows more than she
thinks she does... and probably more than she wants to know," he murmured
quietly, mystifying Zen all the more. "But..."
"Shinji, is that you?" The voice was familiar, in some distant way. "Ah."
Someone poked their head around a door in the hallway; a man with light
blue hair and blue eyes. "Miyako was looking for you, and I didn't tell her
where you'd gone -- she looked like she was chasing after Jeanne again.
Which didn't sound too good for you."
The mild conversation went on while Zen sat in shock. The crack in the wall
around his memories had grown more, and more bits and pieces were fitting
together into one smooth painting, rather than sharp shards. Jeanne. Maron.
And this man -- though, in some strange way, he wasn't the same.
The sudden silence brought him out of his fugue. The man -- Chiaki? his
mind offered -- was staring at him, something like pain and happiness
mingled into one bittersweet emotion in his expression. "You..." Chiaki --
it was definitely Chiaki -- whispered.
The soft swish of slippers on the floor presaged the arrival of another
person:
Maron.
And the wall within his mind shattered, while the winds howled around the
house.
"Maron. It's a good name," Zen murmured, leaving Shinji's shoulder and
watching Maron's expression. She looked so fragile, as though a single word
of his could break her heart; her eyes were wide, even wider than the night
he had died, and the beginnings of tears caused them to shimmer. He hated
those tears.
She held out her hand, and the sunlight from a window nearby caught her
expression and changed it to a brilliant smile. He flew across the space
between them. "Zen... I've missed you so much," she said, smiling at him.
"Come. We have a lot to talk about."
***
Somehow, he'd expected to see the same Maron that he had known so briefly
before: youthful, with a perpetual air of muffled happiness and concern for
others. This Maron had lost the sadness that had always lingered in her
eyes; she'd found the happiness that he had somehow known she was searching
for.
Zen hovered in front of Maron, listening to her tale -- some of it was
vaguely familiar to him, from the lessons of a young kurotenshi -- in
silence. Chiaki had come to sit beside her, and she occasionally leaned
against his shoulder, especially when recounting the tale of Fin's betrayal
and redemption, then of her death.
This brought a lump to Zen's throat; he remembered Fin Fish as a small
juntenshi, cheerful and seemingly dedicated to God. She had brought him
hope when he'd been dying, speaking of the god-wind, the breath of God. And
she'd been through Hell, not only in the literal sense, and had come back.
"Does Natsuki know? About Fin, I mean. She saw me, when Shinji brought me
here."
"We don't know. She seems to know more than she should, but she doesn't
talk about anything like that very much," Chiaki explained, leaning
forward. Once again, Zen felt a lump in his throat -- but not the result of
sadness. He was so much smaller than he'd once been; at one point, he'd
only been a little shorter than the man in front of him. And...
... he was a little jealous, too. He'd loved Maron, but hadn't had time to
resolve exactly what sort of love it had been, save that it had existed.
Maron laid her hand upon Chiaki's shoulder, smiling gently. "I think it's
time for Shinji to explain his part in this, though, Chiaki."
Shinji, who'd remained silent through the explanation, uncurled from his
armchair. "I guess I owe you an apology, Zen. I was the one who told Chiaki
that he /had/ to checkmate your demon." He paused briefly, biting his lower
lip and looking far older than his age. "I am... or I /was/, Access Time."
"You forgot your usual speech," Chiaki said dryly, his expression faintly
amused as he watched Shinji. "The one where you call yourself great and
wonderful."
Zen was simply confused. His memories conflicted with what he'd been told:
they were still keeping something from him, for some reason. "But the demon
that had me wasn't a normal demon. I know that. There was something weird
about it. And there was always this man in black, for some reason. And
Silk, too. The demon was Noin."
"You know him now?" Chiaki's voice was hard, his blue eyes filling with
anger. "The bastard. He tried to take /my/ Maron away. Tried to /rape/
her."
An instinctive flush of fury made Zen's ears buzz; he could feel his hands
clenching into fists. With a conscious effort -- the training had had some
effect, after all -- he forced it down, shutting it away in its place. "I
met Silk. He... my memory didn't work right at that point. Something
happened. I woke up with Noin and Silk talking about what they'd done-"
That conversation made sense now. "-and then I left."
"And now I remember everything. I'm so sorry, Maron!" The fury had
completely vanished, leaving an aching grief behind. "I didn't mean to hurt
you. And you, Chiaki..."
"Don't worry about it. She hit me with a water jug, and that brought me to
my senses."
"Mou! You weren't listening to me then, and I was so /angry/!"
Zen watched them together, then shook his head, his smile returning.
"They're always like this, I guess?" he asked Shinji, who was rolling his
eyes, every bit the young boy at that moment. Funny, the kinship he felt
with this boy.
"I had to whack Chiaki with a tessen to keep his hands off of Maron before
the final battle," Shinji admitted, laughing. "I told him that he couldn't
touch saints. But he wound up doing that anyway, and he even yelled at God
once for putting Maron in danger."
"Really..." Zen paused, tilting his head at Shinji. "You know, Celcia told
me that I reminded her of you once. I kicked one of the trees, and it
dropped an apple on me. Riru-sama got angry with me, and I kept on having
to pray even more to get the power I lost back."
Maron, having stopped berating Chiaki for the moment, drew both of their
gazes with a single question: "What are you going to do with the power that
you gain?"
The thought had never truly crossed his mind. He lived in the moment; the
future was the next moment, to be considered when it arrived. He'd been
gaining power for one real purpose: to find out about those broken shards
of memory. That had been resolved... and he had more power than he'd
started with.
He fingered a strand of silvery hair, frowning at it. It was paler than
when he'd first come down to the ningenkai, and slightly longer. Looking
back up at Maron and Chiaki, he sighed. "I don't know." he said.
Shinji's expression was gleeful as he leaned towards Zen, poking him with
one finger. "Natsuki said she'd like a brother. And if you've got that much
power now, it shouldn't be long before you become a seitenshi. And when you
do, you'll be strong enough to return to here as a human with your
memories."
Maron, Chiaki and Zen boggled at Shinji. Chiaki was the first to recover, a
sly grin appearing as though by magic. "I could definitely help with that,
Maron."
She poked him, but her eyes were filling with hopeful tears. "Zen... would
you?"
"I will." And those words set the events in motion for the final element of
happiness: family.
***
His power had finally brought him to the point he needed: he was as tall as
Riru now, his hair silver rather than the golden-brown it had once been,
and it was longer than it had ever been, in life or as an angel. No longer
Juntenshi Zen, angel-in-training; he'd grown in strength faster than anyone
had ever expected, as though he'd been given a mission that would give him
the greatest of rewards if he fulfilled it.
Only two beings knew of that mission, save those he'd left in the
ningenkai: Riru and God himself. Both were with him now, asking him the
final question before he returned to the world of humanity.
/Do you truly wish to become a human again, to live with flesh and blood
and the life that mortals are granted?/
"It is for Maron. It is for myself. I choose to go, and I have enough power
to do so."
/Go, then. And carry one message for me: I always watch Eve, in spite of
Adam's protests./
That couldn't've been humor, Zen thought. That would just be too out of
character.
And then the light of his power engulfed him, and he returned to the
beginning once again.
***
It was a cold night when Maron felt the first twinge of pain in her lower
back. She rose from bed, leaving Chiaki with a fond smile -- he'd been
working so hard these past few weeks, with the Christmas season giving more
people an excuse to drink and the unusual snow making accidents more
common. He deserved his sleep, and she had several hours before the
contractions would be close enough to warrant going to the hospital. So she
dressed in silence, no longer feeling awkward and unwieldy -- her time was
near.
She slipped out of the bedroom, her hands on her back, trying to ease the
exhausted muscles that bore the weight of the child she carried. "Only a
little longer," she murmured, rubbing her protruding belly soothingly as
the contraction eased.
A soft sound from the door beside her startled her briefly. A faint, small
glow of light appeared around the crack: Natsuki, now eight, peered out,
her eyes wide with excitement. "Mama, it's time, isn't it? I'm going to
have my little brother soon, aren't I?"
Maron smiled dreamily, ruffling her daughter's pale green hair. "You are.
He's going to be such a wonderful boy, too." She'd never questioned Natsuki
about how she knew that the child her mother carried was a boy; it was
simple proof of who she had been.
She loved this feeling, the constant love showered upon her by her family:
love wasn't a currency, to be spent and lost, as she'd once thought. It was
an ever-growing thing that, when shared, brought the happiness she'd sought
for so long.
With Natsuki holding onto her hand, Maron paced the hallway, the motion and
the company easing the slowly-building contractions.
"Mama, it's a really pretty night. There's even a nice wind. Should we go
outside?" Natsuki's suggestion was pitched in a quiet tone, and there was a
faint hint of solemn knowledge -- they both shared a love for the wind,
from its violent gales to its gentle caress during calm moments -- in her
eyes. "Papa can sleep a little longer."
"I think it would be a wonderful idea, Natsuki-chan. The wind would be a
comfort, I think." Especially if her suspicions were true. They donned
their coats and with her hand still clasped in her daughter's, Maron
stepped out into the night, the small yard lit by the moon. The snow upon
the ground refracted the light into a million diamonds, and the wind was
indeed gentle and bracing, rather than biting. They breathed in unison, and
two small clouds of air shivered upon the air, then vanished.
Natsuki slipped her hand out of Maron's as soon as the newest contraction
ended, twirling with every tiny breath of wind, leaving swirling footprints
in the virgin snow. Maron watched her daughter, one hand upon her belly.
The winter night was quiet, save for the noise of the wind in the trees and
Natsuki's delighted laughter.
Some time later, another contraction gripped Maron, provoking a short gasp.
"Natsuki-chan, let's go wake Papa, hmm?" she said, a gentle request for
attention. Natsuki obediently returned, slipping her hand into her mother's
as they walked slowly back into the house.
Focusing through the pain of the spasming muscles, Maron walked towards
their bedroom, flicking the light on. Chiaki wasn't asleep; his eyes were
open and focused upon the door as though he'd been expecting them. "I
wondered," he said softly, standing up and reaching for his shirt, "when
you would finally admit that it was time for us to go."
"It's time, love. After so long." She was excited, feeling euphoric as the
pain of the latest contraction slowed, then stopped. It was rather
symbolic, she'd thought when she'd had Natsuki, that she suffered the pain
of childbirth: Eve had done so, but Jeanne had not.
Chiaki kissed her head, the bag they'd packed in his hand. "Let's go." He,
too, was delighted; his eyes were bright with love and affection. "Or I'll
have to carry you from the car, just like last time."
"Hmph. You insisted, if I remember correctly." Leaning her head briefly
against his warm chest, she drew comfort from the lighthearted teasing and
from his mere presence. Funny, how after - how many years was it? Twelve
years? -- of marriage, she still loved every part of him, from his spicy
scent to the way his kisses could make her lose all memory of the outside
world.
She drew herself out of her thoughts, looking up at Chiaki with widened
eyes. "We should really go. Are you going to call Kaiki this time? He'll
never forgive you for not telling him when Natsuki was born."
"Let's just get you to the hospital before we worry about that, love."
*
Natsuki had insisted upon coming to see the arrival of her new brother.
Though Papa had originally been firm, she'd cried and he had crumbled
instantly. She didn't like to do that to Papa, but this was her little
/brother/. Mama had missed him for so long, and now she'd found him again,
and she, Natsuki, wasn't going to miss out on meeting him.
There had been one of those odd flashes of someone else in her mind when
Mama had told her about her brother. The presence was familiar, and Natsuki
had come to accept it as someone who didn't mean any harm, and who often
gave her advice or told her when important things - like Mama and her
little brother - were starting. This time, she (the person was definitely a
girl) had been happy, almost bubbling over with joy.
And so, she sat silently outside the door to where her Mama was having her
brother - that older person inside her had told her long ago that it was
called 'childbirth' - and waited. The nurses on the staff had come by more
than once, offering her snacks or tea and calling her 'a cute child' and
asking her name. When she'd told them, they all petted her even more,
cooing that her grandfather was such a nice man, and why didn't he marry
again, since his son was so clearly not available.
Natsuki really didn't understand grownups very well.
A hand landed upon her head, ruffling her hair and leaving it in complete
disarray. "And there's my Natsuki-chan. I'd wondered if you had come." The
voice was familiar, so very like Papa's that it could only be one person.
Grey eyes, dark hair, and a familiar smile came into view as the new
arrival knelt to peer into her face.
"Grandpa! So Papa did tell you… he thought he might not, 'cause you would
make a fuss," she said, her green eyes solemn as she latched onto her
grandfather's neck for a tight hug. She adored her grandfather; he always
smiled for her and gave her lots of hugs, even when he was busy with his
work. She lowered her voice, peering over his shoulder at the nurses'
station. "Did you know, Grandpa, that all those nurses like you a lot? But
never mind. Is Mama okay? How long until my brother gets here?"
Grandpa hugged her tightly, lifting her up off the ground and setting her
upon his hip. "Just a little longer, Natsuki-chan. Let's go get some tea,
hmm? And visit those pretty nurses."
Natsuki shook her head vehemently, squirming to reach the floor. "If it's
soon, I don't want to miss it."
In that moment, a baby cried from the inside of the room, its voice muffled
by the door so much that only one who was attuned to it - or listening
very, very carefully - would notice.
*
Flushed and exhausted, Maron could only smile as Chiaki washed their new
son carefully, wrapping him in a blanket before handing him back to her.
Tiny wisps of golden-brown hair were visible upon his head, and Maron knew
that his eyes, though newborn-blue now, would change to a mid-brown color.
"Zen. He's come back to us."
"Mama, can I see him now?" Natsuki had somehow gotten inside and slipped
noiselessly up to Maron's side, craning to see the baby. "Are you going to
name him Zen?"
For a moment, the light seemed to halo Natsuki, giving her pointed ears and
cat-slit eyes that held an amused knowledge. Maron smiled at her daughter
and leaned slightly so that she could see the baby. "Yes. This is Zen,
Natsuki-chan. Your new brother."
*** Fin ***
(don't maim the poor author for the pun, please *niko*)
In rereading the last chapter of the manga, I noticed the kanji for
Shinji's name are 'Heart' and 'Time'. I find that really cute: 'Heart of
Time'. I guess it was as similar a name to 'Access Time' as Miyako could
devise. 3 Natsuki... well, Maron knew Fin's mortal name, so it made sense
to simply be the same as before: "Fish" and "Moon". Of course, Zen's name
was known - he even retained it as his angel name, as Riru thought that it
was a good name (thereby recalling Zen's words about Maron's name... irony
of ironies. ^_^;; )
As for this fic... it took the form of an evil bunny several months ago; I
wrote the first couple scenes to satisfy it for the time, and then looked
at it again and thought that it might actually work. It was never intended
to be more than oh, say, twenty K and was supposed to involve Zen talking
with Silk, not Shinji, about evil and good and why things happened the way
they did -- and involve Zen recovering his memories because of Noin. But
that didn't happen. ^_^ This fic is set in the same universe as 'Arcadia',
but not the same as 'Reflection'.
For Tin, who nagged and whined and told me that my writing was good, and
who gave me the hope that someday (far off) I'd be as good a writer as she
is. And now she owes me that TSK fic. *evil niko*
(though I really wouldn't object to having Chiaki or Access around the
house...)
For Tin, dearest oneechan.
This story assumes that the reader knows Zen's backstory, from either the
anime or the manga, and has some spoilers for the manga ending (as the
anime certainly doesn't measure up).
Minor note: 'ningenkai' is literally translatable as 'Human Realm' or
'Human World'. 'Tenkai' is 'Sky World' or 'Heaven'.
******************
Elements of Happiness
by Natsuki
******************
Another perfect day in Heaven, with only the occasional shadow of a
high-flying angel to block the sun from the green grass and white buildings
below. It was a perfect park, peaceful and calm, with nary a single blade
of grass or twig from the trees out of place. The scuff-marks of Zen's
sandals were instantly erased as he stalked across the broad expanse of
Heaven, wings and arms held at stiff angles to his body.
They'd been Watching the pool again, and that one woman. And they'd ordered
him out again, as they always did whenever the conversation or Watching
turned to that woman. Celcia and Toki had pulled one of their looks when
they'd thought he wasn't watching, exchanging amused glances at the young
angel's annoyance. There was something he knew about that woman, and it
wasn't fair that he was excluded. He was an angel, even if he was only a
kurotenshi.
In passing one of the apple trees, he kicked its trunk in a moment's
pique... and was rewarded by an apple dropped onto his head. "Damned tree,"
he muttered, rubbing at the abused spot as he glared at the canopy of
branches above him.
"You shouldn't say such things, things." The tone was gently chiding,
though amused. And, with that particular self-echo, it was an easy guess as
to its owner.
"I can say what I want, Celcia. Even if I am treated like a human child, I
can still talk, can't I?" He hated to have to bow and scrape to the
seitenshi; it was one of the few reasons he actually enjoyed Celcia's
intermittent company, as she didn't insist on formality or, in truth, many
manners at all. She simply liked to talk.
She seemed to be considering this, amused. "Ah, I suppose you can, indeed,
indeed. But if Riru-sama were to hear you, you would be tossed into double
training for the next eon, you would," she replied, picking up the apple
and offering it to him. "Since the tree gave you a gift, it shan't hurt to
eat it, it. At least-" Here, her expression turned somewhat more
contemplative, as though she were remembering a certain time past. "-that
was what Access always said."
Zen took the apple warily, polishing it on his chest and taking a bite with
relish. Forbidden -- or simply frowned upon -- fruits were always tastier,
for some reason. "The famous Access again. Why won't anyone talk about the
guy? Really, it's almost as though he was a datenshi, the way people mince
about the topic around me." He couldn't keep the sour note from his voice,
nor the irritated petulance. He'd been told that he was so childish because
he'd been young when he'd died, and that had simply served to irritate him
further.
Celcia looked faintly shocked, her eyes wide. "He wasn't a datenshi! There
hasn't been a datenshi for so long... how can you say that?" She truly was
shocked; one hand had flown up to her mouth, covering it so that the words
came out muffled, and without her usual self-echo.
Taking advantage of the chink in her armor, Zen pressed on. "Then who was
he? No-one will tell me, and I certainly can't just go and ask God, 'Oh,
hey, who was this Access guy and why won't anyone talk about him when I'm
around? And, oh, by the way, I'm being treated like some child whenever
someone's using the Pool to watch some woman.', now can I?"
"I wish I could tell you, Zen, but my time here is short enough as it is,
it is," Celcia said, shaking her head. "And it is a long story, and not a
happy one in places. And you would not wish to hear much of it, of it."
Frustration welled up in him, and he tossed the apple aside (it promptly
vanished upon hitting the ground) before sitting down upon the ground,
brows furrowed. "You've finally got enough power for what you want, then?"
he asked, glancing up at her through a fall of hair. "You're going back to
the ningenkai?"
"To be human again, again. And-" She sighed, her expression becoming dreamy
with remembrance. "-to see Maron again, again."
There. That name.
/A good name.../
It trickled into his memory and lodged there, a whisper of his own voice
coming out of the depths. "Maron?" he demanded suddenly, every muscle stiff
with some unknown anticipation. "Who?"
Celcia watched him for a moment, then shook her head. "It is nothing. You
should forget it, Zen, Zen," she said, then left, her skirts swishing
behind her. In her wake trailed faint trickles of memory, a vague sense of
unease settling upon Zen's wings and drawing them downwards.
"It is not for you to worry about, young Zen." Riru stepped out from behind
the tree, as poised as ever. As though she hadn't been eavesdropping on the
conversation. "You have training. Now go."
***
Time flowed differently here than in the ningenkai. In the span of only a
short, unmeasured time, Celcia and Toki had gone, all traces of their power
disappearing in one flash of light that had sent ripples over all of
Heaven. It wasn't an unknown thing, by the way that the older angels were
acting, but it was the first such occurence since he'd become a kurotenshi.
"Riru-sama, why did God give up one of his powers?"
They'd been studying the Garden of Eden, learning the story -- if they
hadn't known it already -- of Creation and of Adam. Zen was bored,
preferring to watch the clouds sail across the high blue sky rather than
pay attention. The question, coming from one of the other kurotenshi,
brought him thudding back to Earth -- or rather, Heaven.
Riru nodded at the question, faint amusement in her voice as she answered,
"For love. So that the soul of the first woman could live forever, as pure
as the day that she was Created."
"Why was it Eve, and not Adam, who God gave this power to?" Mika was one of
the brighter angels, having a higher power level than most in the class as
a result of constant studying and prayer and all the responsible activities
that Zen usually tried to shirk.
"That, Kurotenshi Mika, is a question you'll have to ask Him. As for
Adam... well, you may eventually learn his story as well. You may go now."
There was a definite chuckle behind her voice now, almost that evil teasing
note that every angel under her tutelage came to dread.
The class fled as quickly as possible, but Zen stayed under the pretense of
straightening his robes. He watched Riru turn away, considering. Did he
truly want to talk to the Head Angel as he had to Celcia? Celcia had been
one of the few seitenshi who weren't stuffed shirts; he had been able to
talk to her freely, and to get her often amusing opinions on his actions.
"Riru-sama... could you wait a moment, please?"
Riru stopped and turned, arching a brow at him. "Kurotenshi Zen, is there
something I can do for you?" She was never impolite, never unfriendly...
just restrained and older where Celcia had been buoyant and ever youthful.
"Ah... no." He couldn't talk to her.
***
Studies, training, power; they all melded into an endless whirl of this and
that, the interminable process of building up strength for missions to the
ningenkai was boring. And yet, with very little else to do save
occasionally tie up his fellow kurotenshi as a prank and try to Watch
without being caught, Zen threw himself into his work wholeheartedly.
He learned about demons, their evil nature and their way of infesting the
human spirit. There seemed to be fewer demons these days, with the sudden
loss of the Devil's power as a result of something that Zen could never
find out. He learned about Eve, but never about who she had been in her
following lifetimes; he was told that he had no need to know.
It was a conversation between a teacher and student that brought this
omission crashing down upon his mind.
"... And that, Mika, is why the power that God bestowed upon Eve was not
lost when Jeanne D'Arc was burned. It was transferred; the next Jeanne had
a double burden of that power because of this transfer."
"And Jeanne is still alive now, and Fin has been growing up? As well as
Access? As humans?"
"Precisely. Jeanne's power is now in Fin Fish; that was how she survived
the attack."
/Fin Fish... an angel. Jeanne... a thief./
The names dropped into his mind, crystal-clear and sharp, cutting away
pieces of foggy memory. Maron. Jeanne. Fin Fish. They were connected. Not
knowing what to do about these strange feelings, Zen fled, taking refuge in
the branches of an apple tree. The wind buoyed him up, but did not erase
the aching pain that lingered in his chest. It was impossible to dredge
more out of his memory save a feeling of worry, blackness and those three
names that had started everything. No pictures of their faces. Nothing save
the wind, and a sense of something precious slipping away from him as he
sank into that darkness.
***
He would not worry. He'd decided that long ago. The flow of time didn't
allow Zen to truly measure the days or weeks or months between the feelings
resurfacing and his first mission to the ningenkai; he refused to allow
himself to thing about those memories. They hurt.
/You may go, Zen/
"Thank you, Kami-sama."
As he left, there was a flicker of amusement in the light he was leaving
behind.
***
The air was more lively here, with scents and stenches that would have been
filtered out in Heaven. Zen filled his lungs with the ningenkai's air...
and promptly began to cough violently. Pollution to an angel would normally
have been nothing, save that this coughing wasn't only because of that. It
brought back the pain of something lost. Zen ruthlessly squelched the
emotion.
It was a quiet town, this one; a faint French air was in the winding
streets and arched bridges, in the peach trees blossoming along a river
that wound through a park. It was comforting, in a way, familiar to a
person long since dead, and yet still living in some walled-in corner of
his mind.
This was not an urgent mission, he had been told, but he was still not
supposed to linger in a world that wasn't entirely sure if it believed in
beings such as he. The rules had been changed only a short while ago, he'd
heard, as a result of a juntenshi's mistake of some sort. It was another
one of those mysteries that seemed to always become silent whenever he was
near, and he'd finally given up pursuing the elusive thread of a story that
no-one wanted to recall.
He paused, alighting in a tree that had grown old slowly, its branches
reaching not only up towards the sky, but reaching sideways for the wind to
trickle through its leaves, leaving the sunlight with an ever-dappled
effect. His wings, newly white, were tired, and that odd nagging pain in
his chest hadn't quite disappeared. "Maa. It'll go away. Probably just the
air."
"What's just the air?" This was an unexpected voice from below him; a small
boy lazed there, sprawled sinuously along a far-flung branch. His hair was
silvery-white, and, oddest of odd, he had a horn sprouting from his
forehead.
Zen ran a hand over his eyes in disbelief. "You can see me. This really
isn't fair, you know. People aren't supposed to see me. And especially not
people who look exactly like me." Even as he said it, he saw the truth in
his unconscious observation: save for the horn and the obvious differences
in their height, the boy and he were twins.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone, 'cause no-one wants to talk to
me anyway. Not even-" Zen could've sworn that the boy sniffled piteously,
acting like a very small child who'd lost their parents (though how he
could draw the comparison, he wasn't quite sure. At least the memory didn't
hurt, like the others). "-Noin-sama wants to talk to me right now."
"Oh." What else was there to say, truly? Sighing, Zen hopped down to a
small branch at eye-level with the other boy. "I'm Zen."
"Silk."
"Oh. Why can you see me, anyway?"
"Because I'm different from people. I'm..."
"Silk!" The full-throated roar jolted the pair of them out of the tree; Zen
momentarily forgot that his wings were not only there for status purposes
and fell flat on his rear end, and Silk fared no better. "Owww..." they
muttered in unison.
The person who'd managed to startle their wits out of them was standing
over the pair of them, the most peculiar expression upon his face. Zen
stopped rubbing his backside for a moment to stare straight back at the
human -- for that was what he seemed to be, with reddish-black hair tied
back in a short ponytail and dark eyes. For some reason, he just didn't
/feel/ quite right to Zen, with a darkness behind the human facade. He
dismissed it as hypersensitivity as the man addressed his companion.
"Silk. I've decided that you're forgiven. We should go now."
"But... Noin-sama..." Silk was confused; he kept looking over at Zen, then
back at Noin, his amber, cat slitted eyes perplexed.
Did all humans have cat-slitted eyes? Zen looked more closely at the boy,
frowning. As swift as thought, he backed away. "You're a demon. A weird
sort, but you're a demon no matter what you say." Demons were invariably
evil, he'd been taught. And none truly deserved more than a resting place
behind a seal created by the few who could do so.
If anything, the accusation made Silk's sudden smile grow brighter. "Yes!
And so's-"
"Silk, that's enough. I apologise, Zen," Noin said, clapping his hand over
Silk's mouth and smiling warily.
Another knock at the walls enclosing his old self brought Zen down to the
ground once again, coughing violently, his head aching fiercely in protest
of what was happening within it. Those walls were never meant to be
breached.
/Darkness engulfed him, while the rhythm of his heart became all the more
erratic and pain tore at his chest, forcing him to cough, spasming against
the invasion of something alien. All while something -- someone -- stood
over him impassively. Oh, it /hurt/./
The pain became too much. He allowed the darkness to overcome him, sweeping
away the hurt and the memory.
When he awoke, he lay as still as possible. The park's scent of windswept
grass and earth had vanished, replaced by a cooler, sharper tang to the
air. A voice both familiar and strange was raised in a torrent of words.
"Silk, do you remember /anything/ of what we did? To even speak to him
now... not only would we risk more angels realising who we are, but Jeanne
would be angry and hurt. That little angel that you couldn't leave behind
is the one who so nearly broke Jeanne's heart when we tried!"
It hadn't even occurred to him how this man knew his name; it was in
keeping with the world's conspiracy against him, to keep him from what he
needed to know. Zen sat up, stealthily fluttering towards the voices.
What greeted him was a scene out of that forgotten memory: a small dragon
perched upon a shoulder clad in ebon fabric while that figure paced back
and forth. It was a demon; every nerve in Zen was jangling a warning of
that very fact. It was evil. It couldn't be allowed to continue.
"And...." The demon -- Noin, he'd heard Silk say -- trailed off as he
looked directly at where Zen was lurking, frowning. "Damn."
Bitter, yet hopeful. Distrustful and wistful. The odd mixture of emotions
which were hammering at the walls in his mind made him step out into view,
fragments of the past and the clear picture of the present blending into
some vague pattern that, as yet, eluded him. "You knew me. And you know how
I died. And why I died. And you're a demon..."
... there's so much I want to ask you, but I can't trust you to answer me
properly.
The dragon's gentle touch drew him out of his thoughts. He flew backwards,
regarding the dragon with wary eyes until, in an odd elongation of limbs
and refinement of features, Silk stood in front of him, his expression as
wistfully clear as his master's was closed. "I didn't mean to scare you."
The face of good and the face of evil are so alike. Zen could feel a laugh
bubbling up in him, a half-hysterical release of tension. But he couldn't
laugh, not in this place, this time. "You're a demon, too. How can I trust
either of you? Just... let me go."
Noin gestured at Silk, and Silk bowed his head. "Fine. But..." And here,
his voice took on the same wistful quality as his expression. "I wish I
could talk to you."
The admission startled both Noin and Zen: they both stared blankly at Silk,
gape-mouthed and thoroughly confused for the briefest of moments before
Noin recovered and opened a window. "Go. Now." His voice was cold, a sharp
splinter of the coldest, most dangerous things Zen had ever heard or read
of.
He left.
***
The quiet sunshine of the day did not suit the confusion that surrounded
Zen. His mission, a simple check on the many temples and shrines of the
area, had easily been completed. It was time for him to go home,
technically. But he'd become too confused, with too many of those sharp,
jagged fragments of the wall that contained his memories jumbled around in
his mind.
A kurotenshi was trained as rigorously as possible until they reached
juntenshi, with all the lessons about life and creation and, most
importantly, demons, being taught by seitenshi. The lessons about demons
were the ones drilled into each student so that they would not stray...
... and yet, Zen had not been harmed by the two demons that he'd
encountered.
All his life as an angel had lay in accepting without question the details
of being an angel. Those details included a lack of trust in demons. Zen
struggled with himself as the very foundations of what he'd been taught --
Good and Evil -- warred with what he'd experienced.
He was back in the tree once again, surrounded by the shifting sunlight and
the light breezes that danced through the leaves. "I don't understand this
at all..." he said aloud, fingering a strand of golden-brown hair. "Is good
good, and is bad really evil?"
There was a dull crunch above him, then a sharp snap and a shower of small
sticks pelted downwards. A yelp, and a slightly heavier body landed almost
gracefully upon the very branch that Silk had been sprawled upon earlier in
the day.
The new arrival draped himself casually upon the branch, then stared up at
Zen with a mischievous grin. Purple eyes, black hair -- and he had focused
directly upon Zen with no effort at all. "Black and white is never a good
way to see things, you know. Grey is a much nicer color. But it's still not
as nice as green," the boy noted, then crunched cheerfully into an apple.
"Or purple, for that matter."
Zen boggled. The boy laughed. "I'm special. I have a certain link to
angels, you know. So don't be startled."
"I thought that was /my/ line," Zen replied, a trife sourly. It just wasn't
fair that he ran into everyone who could see him in one day, on his first
mission.
"It would normally be, but I already said that I've got a link to angels.
I'm not sure if my mother would be able to see you, but I sure can." He
arched a brow at Zen, purple eyes twinkling. "What does Riru call you,
then?"
Too stunned to really do much save stare at this odd human, Zen replied
automatically. "Zen. Juntenshi Zen."
"Shinji-" The newly-named Shinji nearly toppled out of the tree, saving
himself by a swift grab of the branch above him. His eyes no longer
twinkled, Zen noted. "Unless she's developed more of a sense of humor than
she ever had..." Shinji's voice was a mixture of hope and confusion, with
the faintest touch of wry amusement. He looked up sharply, focusing upon
Zen. "How long can you stay down for?"
Perplexed (as he'd been for most of the day), Zen replied, "I should really
go back now... I was-" How to say that he'd been rebelling against going
back to the day-to-day perfection that irritated something within him?
"-staying for a little longer."
Shinji cocked his head at Zen, a considering gleam in his eyes. He seemed
to understand, in more than one way, the frustration of living a life that
was so utterly perfect and yet still wanting something. Another crack
formed in the wall around his memories: he'd known this understanding
before. But the memory was still centered around a girl with wavy brown
hair and a gentle smile.
"Hey, Zen." Shinji's voice was worried, and the shadow of a large hand
passed in front of Zen's eyes. "You lost me for a second."
He gulped, fighting back inexplicable tears. "I think that I should stay
down here... just a little longer," he said in a choked voice. "There's
something I'm missing, and I need to know." For a wonder, the shards of
memory weren't hurting. They were warm, comforting; the sharp edges still
remained, but they didn't wound him deeply.
"Aa. Will you come with me, then?" There was no hint of a tease in Shinji's
voice now; merely a quiet, concealed happiness. "I think that there's
someone you should meet."
***
Even though that sense of suppressed happiness still lingered around his
guide, Zen was definitely perplexed. Shinji certainly didn't act his
apparent age -- thirteen or so -- and he continually muttered, as they
walked along, things such as, "Chiaki's going to kill me. Absolutely. But
he /knows/ that this is something that Maron hoped for." and "Why do I
always get stuck with this sort of responsibility? Dealing with everything.
Bah."
As they passed a small grocery store, a gust of wind caught Shinji,
spinning him off-center and causing Zen to lose his seat upon the boy's
shoulder. Sprawled upon the ground, they both glared up at the innocent
skies, raised their fists, and called, "That's /not/ funny!"
Of course, this earned them quite a few stares and blank looks.
Zen turned around, drawn by some inexplicable sensation -- did humans call
it 'deja vu'? -- to stare at the store they'd fallen in front of. The
shards of memory pressed at him, forcing him to try and remember the past
-- and this store. /My home... there was an apartment above the store.../
Even as the thought came, it disappeared behind the wall, leaving only a
bitter taste of something precious lost in his mouth. He turned away.
Shinji was watching him calmly from where he was still sprawled upon the
ground, an expression that, while not truly calculating, was measuring his
reaction to their location. He held out his hand for Zen, and stood.
"Someone sent you down here for more than just a trip around the local
shrines," he said cryptically.
As they walked, the buildings became sparser, the occasional house dotting
the streets instead of city buildings. There were no memories to revive
here, no choking cough to render him unable to speak; Zen relaxed upon
Shinji's shoulder.
A pixiesh figure bounced up to them, her green eyes focused upon Shinji
with a faintly amused gleam that matched her smile. "Your mother's looking
for you, Shinji. Did you do something /again/?" she asked. She was tiny by
human standards, with green hair down to her shoulders and a fragile air
about her. That fragile air was quickly dispelled as she arched a brow at
Shinji. "And why do you have a little toy on your shoulder?"
"I could tell you, Natsuki-chan, but you're not old enough to know."
And the fragility vanished entirely as Natsuki stomped on Shinji's foot.
"That's not /fair/!" she cried, then smiled. It was odd, this manner of
going from anger to understanding in a single moment. "But I think I know
anyway. Mama's inside. Papa's in his study, and he can probably save you
from Miyako-baasan." With that, she turned away, heading back towards one
of the houses. She paused in mid step, looking back over her shoulder --
and Zen could've sworn she looked straight at him and smiled. "I think I
would like to have a little brother."
Shinji choked for no apparent reason, then shook his head and walked
through the door that Natsuki had come out of. "She knows more than she
thinks she does... and probably more than she wants to know," he murmured
quietly, mystifying Zen all the more. "But..."
"Shinji, is that you?" The voice was familiar, in some distant way. "Ah."
Someone poked their head around a door in the hallway; a man with light
blue hair and blue eyes. "Miyako was looking for you, and I didn't tell her
where you'd gone -- she looked like she was chasing after Jeanne again.
Which didn't sound too good for you."
The mild conversation went on while Zen sat in shock. The crack in the wall
around his memories had grown more, and more bits and pieces were fitting
together into one smooth painting, rather than sharp shards. Jeanne. Maron.
And this man -- though, in some strange way, he wasn't the same.
The sudden silence brought him out of his fugue. The man -- Chiaki? his
mind offered -- was staring at him, something like pain and happiness
mingled into one bittersweet emotion in his expression. "You..." Chiaki --
it was definitely Chiaki -- whispered.
The soft swish of slippers on the floor presaged the arrival of another
person:
Maron.
And the wall within his mind shattered, while the winds howled around the
house.
"Maron. It's a good name," Zen murmured, leaving Shinji's shoulder and
watching Maron's expression. She looked so fragile, as though a single word
of his could break her heart; her eyes were wide, even wider than the night
he had died, and the beginnings of tears caused them to shimmer. He hated
those tears.
She held out her hand, and the sunlight from a window nearby caught her
expression and changed it to a brilliant smile. He flew across the space
between them. "Zen... I've missed you so much," she said, smiling at him.
"Come. We have a lot to talk about."
***
Somehow, he'd expected to see the same Maron that he had known so briefly
before: youthful, with a perpetual air of muffled happiness and concern for
others. This Maron had lost the sadness that had always lingered in her
eyes; she'd found the happiness that he had somehow known she was searching
for.
Zen hovered in front of Maron, listening to her tale -- some of it was
vaguely familiar to him, from the lessons of a young kurotenshi -- in
silence. Chiaki had come to sit beside her, and she occasionally leaned
against his shoulder, especially when recounting the tale of Fin's betrayal
and redemption, then of her death.
This brought a lump to Zen's throat; he remembered Fin Fish as a small
juntenshi, cheerful and seemingly dedicated to God. She had brought him
hope when he'd been dying, speaking of the god-wind, the breath of God. And
she'd been through Hell, not only in the literal sense, and had come back.
"Does Natsuki know? About Fin, I mean. She saw me, when Shinji brought me
here."
"We don't know. She seems to know more than she should, but she doesn't
talk about anything like that very much," Chiaki explained, leaning
forward. Once again, Zen felt a lump in his throat -- but not the result of
sadness. He was so much smaller than he'd once been; at one point, he'd
only been a little shorter than the man in front of him. And...
... he was a little jealous, too. He'd loved Maron, but hadn't had time to
resolve exactly what sort of love it had been, save that it had existed.
Maron laid her hand upon Chiaki's shoulder, smiling gently. "I think it's
time for Shinji to explain his part in this, though, Chiaki."
Shinji, who'd remained silent through the explanation, uncurled from his
armchair. "I guess I owe you an apology, Zen. I was the one who told Chiaki
that he /had/ to checkmate your demon." He paused briefly, biting his lower
lip and looking far older than his age. "I am... or I /was/, Access Time."
"You forgot your usual speech," Chiaki said dryly, his expression faintly
amused as he watched Shinji. "The one where you call yourself great and
wonderful."
Zen was simply confused. His memories conflicted with what he'd been told:
they were still keeping something from him, for some reason. "But the demon
that had me wasn't a normal demon. I know that. There was something weird
about it. And there was always this man in black, for some reason. And
Silk, too. The demon was Noin."
"You know him now?" Chiaki's voice was hard, his blue eyes filling with
anger. "The bastard. He tried to take /my/ Maron away. Tried to /rape/
her."
An instinctive flush of fury made Zen's ears buzz; he could feel his hands
clenching into fists. With a conscious effort -- the training had had some
effect, after all -- he forced it down, shutting it away in its place. "I
met Silk. He... my memory didn't work right at that point. Something
happened. I woke up with Noin and Silk talking about what they'd done-"
That conversation made sense now. "-and then I left."
"And now I remember everything. I'm so sorry, Maron!" The fury had
completely vanished, leaving an aching grief behind. "I didn't mean to hurt
you. And you, Chiaki..."
"Don't worry about it. She hit me with a water jug, and that brought me to
my senses."
"Mou! You weren't listening to me then, and I was so /angry/!"
Zen watched them together, then shook his head, his smile returning.
"They're always like this, I guess?" he asked Shinji, who was rolling his
eyes, every bit the young boy at that moment. Funny, the kinship he felt
with this boy.
"I had to whack Chiaki with a tessen to keep his hands off of Maron before
the final battle," Shinji admitted, laughing. "I told him that he couldn't
touch saints. But he wound up doing that anyway, and he even yelled at God
once for putting Maron in danger."
"Really..." Zen paused, tilting his head at Shinji. "You know, Celcia told
me that I reminded her of you once. I kicked one of the trees, and it
dropped an apple on me. Riru-sama got angry with me, and I kept on having
to pray even more to get the power I lost back."
Maron, having stopped berating Chiaki for the moment, drew both of their
gazes with a single question: "What are you going to do with the power that
you gain?"
The thought had never truly crossed his mind. He lived in the moment; the
future was the next moment, to be considered when it arrived. He'd been
gaining power for one real purpose: to find out about those broken shards
of memory. That had been resolved... and he had more power than he'd
started with.
He fingered a strand of silvery hair, frowning at it. It was paler than
when he'd first come down to the ningenkai, and slightly longer. Looking
back up at Maron and Chiaki, he sighed. "I don't know." he said.
Shinji's expression was gleeful as he leaned towards Zen, poking him with
one finger. "Natsuki said she'd like a brother. And if you've got that much
power now, it shouldn't be long before you become a seitenshi. And when you
do, you'll be strong enough to return to here as a human with your
memories."
Maron, Chiaki and Zen boggled at Shinji. Chiaki was the first to recover, a
sly grin appearing as though by magic. "I could definitely help with that,
Maron."
She poked him, but her eyes were filling with hopeful tears. "Zen... would
you?"
"I will." And those words set the events in motion for the final element of
happiness: family.
***
His power had finally brought him to the point he needed: he was as tall as
Riru now, his hair silver rather than the golden-brown it had once been,
and it was longer than it had ever been, in life or as an angel. No longer
Juntenshi Zen, angel-in-training; he'd grown in strength faster than anyone
had ever expected, as though he'd been given a mission that would give him
the greatest of rewards if he fulfilled it.
Only two beings knew of that mission, save those he'd left in the
ningenkai: Riru and God himself. Both were with him now, asking him the
final question before he returned to the world of humanity.
/Do you truly wish to become a human again, to live with flesh and blood
and the life that mortals are granted?/
"It is for Maron. It is for myself. I choose to go, and I have enough power
to do so."
/Go, then. And carry one message for me: I always watch Eve, in spite of
Adam's protests./
That couldn't've been humor, Zen thought. That would just be too out of
character.
And then the light of his power engulfed him, and he returned to the
beginning once again.
***
It was a cold night when Maron felt the first twinge of pain in her lower
back. She rose from bed, leaving Chiaki with a fond smile -- he'd been
working so hard these past few weeks, with the Christmas season giving more
people an excuse to drink and the unusual snow making accidents more
common. He deserved his sleep, and she had several hours before the
contractions would be close enough to warrant going to the hospital. So she
dressed in silence, no longer feeling awkward and unwieldy -- her time was
near.
She slipped out of the bedroom, her hands on her back, trying to ease the
exhausted muscles that bore the weight of the child she carried. "Only a
little longer," she murmured, rubbing her protruding belly soothingly as
the contraction eased.
A soft sound from the door beside her startled her briefly. A faint, small
glow of light appeared around the crack: Natsuki, now eight, peered out,
her eyes wide with excitement. "Mama, it's time, isn't it? I'm going to
have my little brother soon, aren't I?"
Maron smiled dreamily, ruffling her daughter's pale green hair. "You are.
He's going to be such a wonderful boy, too." She'd never questioned Natsuki
about how she knew that the child her mother carried was a boy; it was
simple proof of who she had been.
She loved this feeling, the constant love showered upon her by her family:
love wasn't a currency, to be spent and lost, as she'd once thought. It was
an ever-growing thing that, when shared, brought the happiness she'd sought
for so long.
With Natsuki holding onto her hand, Maron paced the hallway, the motion and
the company easing the slowly-building contractions.
"Mama, it's a really pretty night. There's even a nice wind. Should we go
outside?" Natsuki's suggestion was pitched in a quiet tone, and there was a
faint hint of solemn knowledge -- they both shared a love for the wind,
from its violent gales to its gentle caress during calm moments -- in her
eyes. "Papa can sleep a little longer."
"I think it would be a wonderful idea, Natsuki-chan. The wind would be a
comfort, I think." Especially if her suspicions were true. They donned
their coats and with her hand still clasped in her daughter's, Maron
stepped out into the night, the small yard lit by the moon. The snow upon
the ground refracted the light into a million diamonds, and the wind was
indeed gentle and bracing, rather than biting. They breathed in unison, and
two small clouds of air shivered upon the air, then vanished.
Natsuki slipped her hand out of Maron's as soon as the newest contraction
ended, twirling with every tiny breath of wind, leaving swirling footprints
in the virgin snow. Maron watched her daughter, one hand upon her belly.
The winter night was quiet, save for the noise of the wind in the trees and
Natsuki's delighted laughter.
Some time later, another contraction gripped Maron, provoking a short gasp.
"Natsuki-chan, let's go wake Papa, hmm?" she said, a gentle request for
attention. Natsuki obediently returned, slipping her hand into her mother's
as they walked slowly back into the house.
Focusing through the pain of the spasming muscles, Maron walked towards
their bedroom, flicking the light on. Chiaki wasn't asleep; his eyes were
open and focused upon the door as though he'd been expecting them. "I
wondered," he said softly, standing up and reaching for his shirt, "when
you would finally admit that it was time for us to go."
"It's time, love. After so long." She was excited, feeling euphoric as the
pain of the latest contraction slowed, then stopped. It was rather
symbolic, she'd thought when she'd had Natsuki, that she suffered the pain
of childbirth: Eve had done so, but Jeanne had not.
Chiaki kissed her head, the bag they'd packed in his hand. "Let's go." He,
too, was delighted; his eyes were bright with love and affection. "Or I'll
have to carry you from the car, just like last time."
"Hmph. You insisted, if I remember correctly." Leaning her head briefly
against his warm chest, she drew comfort from the lighthearted teasing and
from his mere presence. Funny, how after - how many years was it? Twelve
years? -- of marriage, she still loved every part of him, from his spicy
scent to the way his kisses could make her lose all memory of the outside
world.
She drew herself out of her thoughts, looking up at Chiaki with widened
eyes. "We should really go. Are you going to call Kaiki this time? He'll
never forgive you for not telling him when Natsuki was born."
"Let's just get you to the hospital before we worry about that, love."
*
Natsuki had insisted upon coming to see the arrival of her new brother.
Though Papa had originally been firm, she'd cried and he had crumbled
instantly. She didn't like to do that to Papa, but this was her little
/brother/. Mama had missed him for so long, and now she'd found him again,
and she, Natsuki, wasn't going to miss out on meeting him.
There had been one of those odd flashes of someone else in her mind when
Mama had told her about her brother. The presence was familiar, and Natsuki
had come to accept it as someone who didn't mean any harm, and who often
gave her advice or told her when important things - like Mama and her
little brother - were starting. This time, she (the person was definitely a
girl) had been happy, almost bubbling over with joy.
And so, she sat silently outside the door to where her Mama was having her
brother - that older person inside her had told her long ago that it was
called 'childbirth' - and waited. The nurses on the staff had come by more
than once, offering her snacks or tea and calling her 'a cute child' and
asking her name. When she'd told them, they all petted her even more,
cooing that her grandfather was such a nice man, and why didn't he marry
again, since his son was so clearly not available.
Natsuki really didn't understand grownups very well.
A hand landed upon her head, ruffling her hair and leaving it in complete
disarray. "And there's my Natsuki-chan. I'd wondered if you had come." The
voice was familiar, so very like Papa's that it could only be one person.
Grey eyes, dark hair, and a familiar smile came into view as the new
arrival knelt to peer into her face.
"Grandpa! So Papa did tell you… he thought he might not, 'cause you would
make a fuss," she said, her green eyes solemn as she latched onto her
grandfather's neck for a tight hug. She adored her grandfather; he always
smiled for her and gave her lots of hugs, even when he was busy with his
work. She lowered her voice, peering over his shoulder at the nurses'
station. "Did you know, Grandpa, that all those nurses like you a lot? But
never mind. Is Mama okay? How long until my brother gets here?"
Grandpa hugged her tightly, lifting her up off the ground and setting her
upon his hip. "Just a little longer, Natsuki-chan. Let's go get some tea,
hmm? And visit those pretty nurses."
Natsuki shook her head vehemently, squirming to reach the floor. "If it's
soon, I don't want to miss it."
In that moment, a baby cried from the inside of the room, its voice muffled
by the door so much that only one who was attuned to it - or listening
very, very carefully - would notice.
*
Flushed and exhausted, Maron could only smile as Chiaki washed their new
son carefully, wrapping him in a blanket before handing him back to her.
Tiny wisps of golden-brown hair were visible upon his head, and Maron knew
that his eyes, though newborn-blue now, would change to a mid-brown color.
"Zen. He's come back to us."
"Mama, can I see him now?" Natsuki had somehow gotten inside and slipped
noiselessly up to Maron's side, craning to see the baby. "Are you going to
name him Zen?"
For a moment, the light seemed to halo Natsuki, giving her pointed ears and
cat-slit eyes that held an amused knowledge. Maron smiled at her daughter
and leaned slightly so that she could see the baby. "Yes. This is Zen,
Natsuki-chan. Your new brother."
*** Fin ***
(don't maim the poor author for the pun, please *niko*)
In rereading the last chapter of the manga, I noticed the kanji for
Shinji's name are 'Heart' and 'Time'. I find that really cute: 'Heart of
Time'. I guess it was as similar a name to 'Access Time' as Miyako could
devise. 3 Natsuki... well, Maron knew Fin's mortal name, so it made sense
to simply be the same as before: "Fish" and "Moon". Of course, Zen's name
was known - he even retained it as his angel name, as Riru thought that it
was a good name (thereby recalling Zen's words about Maron's name... irony
of ironies. ^_^;; )
As for this fic... it took the form of an evil bunny several months ago; I
wrote the first couple scenes to satisfy it for the time, and then looked
at it again and thought that it might actually work. It was never intended
to be more than oh, say, twenty K and was supposed to involve Zen talking
with Silk, not Shinji, about evil and good and why things happened the way
they did -- and involve Zen recovering his memories because of Noin. But
that didn't happen. ^_^ This fic is set in the same universe as 'Arcadia',
but not the same as 'Reflection'.
For Tin, who nagged and whined and told me that my writing was good, and
who gave me the hope that someday (far off) I'd be as good a writer as she
is. And now she owes me that TSK fic. *evil niko*
