A Thousand Paper Cranes
[Memories are just where you laid them
Drag the waters
Till the depths give up their dead]
The moonlight is beautiful, refracting off the waves. Very hypnotic.
Now that that thought's infested my brain, I can't help but mentally review the medical advantages of hypnosis.
Suzaku, are everyone's thoughts like this? This hellish spiral through everything they've ever known? Setting off chain reactions, always coming invariably to the same memory?
It must be me. I never have the time to talk as much as the others, my brain's too busy reviewing every little nuance of what's going on around me. So I'm the silent seishi, am I? They should try living with my thoughts, their consistent noise and confusion. I'd give anything for true silence.
I can't claim to be eternally tormented, of course. Certain people, certain places, help me to not think, to forget, even for the merest second. The mountain atmosphere, for one. And at certain times, Chiriko's thoughtful stillness is just the trick.
And Shouka…
[What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?]
There it is again. I can't help but remember her, every little thing has some connection in this nebulous memory of mine. I hate it. I love her.
And I almost hate that I love her.
Maybe this symbol is a blessing in disguise. Seishi have an obligation to protect their miko, even if it means death- especially if it means death. I certainly wouldn't do anything heedless, but death would be worth experiencing if- if I could just see her once more.
[I want you to remember
Everything I said when I said]
A thousand paper cranes won't bring her back. That old legend worked against me from the very beginning.
I only dimly remember the beginning of that night. I must have been finished with my daily tasks and visits, probably preparing herbal remedies. I only used my power in dire cases, those days.
The drumming of hoofbeats did not faze me. I heard it often, then. I rose to see who it was, comfortable in the absolute silence of the little house. Shouka was visiting a woman recuperating in a nearby village.
The man was a simple peasant, much like any other, perhaps a small farmer or rancher. His face was strained and haggard, and his eyes stared up at me with the pleading dullness of the uneducated.
"Please, Myou-sama. My little girl- she's just taken a turn for the worse. Please help us. Me and my wife- I don't know what we'd do if we lost her."
[Don't fall away
And leave me to myself]
I remembered this man. He had come to me confidentially one day, to ask what he should do for his young daughter, Mirei, burdened with a lingering sickness that left her weak and bedridden. His wife was a good woman, but old-fashioned and deeply superstitious, as peasants tend to be, and mulishly believed that doctors were decided bad luck.
I listened quietly to the girl's symptoms, and decided that not interfering would be best for now. Mirei's father claimed that she was a brave little thing, and remained cheerful even in her frailty, helping her mother with small tasks. I could tell from his speech, from the softening in his dark eyes, that his daughter was the most important thing in the world to him.
I had told him to send for me if Mirei's condition changed in any way.
And now he was back.
[Don't fall away
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again]
He lived fairly far away, but all I remember about the drive was that it began to rain midway there; round droplets that thoroughly soaked everything and left visibility at nearly nothing, it being twilight already.
From the outside, the cottage looked comfortable, cozy, even. Sleepy yellow light streaming from a single window offered promise of a roaring fire to warm oneself by, and probably a hot dinner as well. If the mountain people were poor, they certainly weren't selfish.
The man drove into the ramshackle stable and we entered through the single door. I had to stoop to avoid banging my head on the low opening.
To this day I swear that inside that house was the closest I have yet been to Hell.
[Leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands
Love lies bleeding]
Heat blasted from the unattended fire, staining everything with a malevolent orange glow.
The two inhabitants of the house both seemed on the point of death. The man's wife knelt close to the fire, hunched over and nearly immobile. Her face was stained pink with the heat, brow furrowed deeply, eyes squinting in concentration. She seemed to be wringing her hands in sorrow, and I immediately wondered if it was too late, if the girl was already dead.
But, no. Mirei was still alive, albeit barely. She seemed to have collapsed in upon herself, her normal ivory pallor now a jaundiced yellow. Small choking, gagging, sobbing noises escaped her throat. Something near my heart twisted painfully as I realized she was trying to cry. Her body was devoid of moisture…she had no tears.
As I watched, the little girl convulsed, her body rising to a sitting position as if she were a marionette, and vomited dark blood. She flopped back uselessly, like one of my late sisters' ragdolls when they tired of playing with it and would throw it into some abandoned corner.
[Oh, hold me now
I feel contagious]
As I strode to the girl's bedside, her mother darted out, crying for me to stop, that everything was all right. A negation never left my lips, as I saw the cranes tumble from her lap. Tiny things, perfectly folded from precious sheets of parchment. Too late I saw that my clumsy footsteps had crushed some of the mass that littered the floor.
I staggered away, wrenching out of the woman's mad grip. Panting like a scared rabbit, I cowered against the wall, glances darting about; to the stupefied parents, the thousand cranes.
One wish to end a little girl's sickness.
[Am I the only place
that you've left to go?]
I detest unnecessary noise. I always have. It's why I lived off of the main road running through Choukou, preferring not to live with the constant rumble and drone of carts and wagons.
And with the wife's sobbing protests and the husband desperately trying to calm her, my head buzzed and rendered me immobile, one thought playing consistently- Silence. Silence. Silence.
"SILENCE!" I roared, and instantly they complied.
Now, finally, I could help the little girl. "Powers granted me by the gods, hear my plea now and come to my aid!" I prayed fervently, quietly, since the discovery of my power would render me outcast, branded as insane, possessed by a spirit.
There was no need, as at that moment Mirei's mother completed her thousandth crane and wished, "O mighty gods in Heaven, grant my daughter Mirei health and happiness now and for all her life!" her strong voice pleading with the deities the peasants so revered.
Sadness glowed on my palm, and Mirei's face softened, her eyes opening momentarily, comically huge in her tiny face. Her yellowed skin became white again, healthy roses in her cheeks. Convinced that she was well now, I smoothed her dark hair away from her face, and she slept.
[She cries that life is like
Some movie, black and white
Dead actors, vacant lies
Over and over and over again she cries]
"…a miracle…" The woman's eyes shone with wonderment. "A miracle! The gods have sent you!" Sobbing in relief, she threw her arms around me.
Her husband wrung my hand in admiration. "Thank you…a hundred thousand times, thank you. I don't know what you did, or how, but I am- we all are- eternally grateful, Mr. Myou, sir."
He drew a handful of copper ryo from a pocket. "I know…it's not much, but I promise-"
"No," I protested, pushing his hand away. "Keep it. I couldn't…not for helping such a wonderful little girl."
"You're…you're too kind, sir."
"But, sir, you must be our guest for the evening. Stay for a bit of dinner." Mirei's mother smiled up at me.
"I'd be glad to."
[Don't fall away
And leave me to myself]
As the exchange of words completed, a timid rapping came from the other side of the door. Mirei's father opened it.
The visitor, obscured by the dark and the rain, bowed, and in a hushed voice requested to see 'the most honorable doctor'.
Yoshiteru stepped into the house, a weak, mousy boy of thirteen, sopping wet and resembling…well, a drowned rat. I had met him once on a call at a merchant's house; he was a distant cousin of Shouka's. There had never been much love lost on the lad, and he mainly ran errands for his family.
"If you please, Myou-san…Miss Shouka was visiting, and…well, she's fallen awful' sick, you see…the doctor from the next town over can't do anything, and…well, nobody told me to, but I went to find you, sir…" The boy wrung his hands, babbling perhaps as a way of avoiding the punishment he was so sure would be wrought on him if he spoke. "Miss Shouka's awful' sick…" he repeated.
[Don't fall away
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again]
I'm sure she must have been terrified of me, standing there, my face ashen with shock. Nonetheless, Mirei padded out of bed and pressed something into my hand.
"Good luck, sir. Thank you very much."
The crane was folded from bright paper; a red, green, and purple floral pattern interlaced with gold scrolls and tracery. The character for one thousand had been written once on each of the wings.
"It was the first, you see, sir. It will bring you good luck. I made it." Mirei gave me a hug and sat back down on the edge of the bed, her little feet dangling.
Back through the rain and up the mountain, to save my love before it was too late, clutching a child's origami in my hands...
[Leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands
Love lies bleeding]
"Ju…an…"
These people…how could they let her lie like that, her bright hair strewn across the bed like that, falling in puddles on the floor, her bedsheets mussed, arms akimbo, head lolling crazily.
I arranged her more perfectly, like she had been in life. Her hair must be so, her arms neatly folded, her hand not clutching the bedsheet in a frozen rictus of pain. Her eyes should not stare so helplessly, so I closed them for her, poor dear.
I heard them whisper. She must be given proper burial or the demons will have their way with her, what can a doctor do for the dead, get him away, cover her face. No, he is her love, let him stay.
I cried to hear them talk about Shouka that way. I suppose I must have realized, quietly, sometime in the night, that she was dead.
[And I watched you turn away]
I awoke to a dull throb of blood behind my eyeballs, equally dull pain accompanying it.
"You're awake, Juan." Shouka's voice.
"It hurts, love."
"I know. So much it did for me."
"I…" I tried to open my eyes, but the fuzzy darkness remained. "I can't see."
"I'm only closing your eyes. So much you did for me." He soft contralto was calm. How could I worry if she did not? "You will die now, I think, Juan. You will die, and your power will belong to me. You want it that way. You will die, and I will live forever."
I supposed so. "But may I open my eyes?"
"Yes." A warm pressure lifted, and I could see.
[You don't remember
But I do]
A scream rose as a bubble in my throat.
He eyes were wide, the pupils swallowing up the entire eye. Through her parted lips, I could see her teeth sharpened to needle-points. He skin had stretched taut over her face, her body was cold.
Reddish, slimy tentacles slid almost lovingly around me, one containing a toothy sucker-mouth poised at my throat.
"You see, Juan? It will not hurt so badly." Her voice had a metallic banshee-screech to it now. I could see the throbbing hulk of the demon nesting in her; an ugly, toothed, eyeless grub spotted with oozing fever-sores.
The bubble popped. I screamed, and ran.
[I never even tried]
I ran, and there was only the dark and the bite of the rain and the terror tears that burned in my eyes so that finally I fell, moaning and sobbing and mewling horribly; like the fractious babe that screeches as it writhes in its own filth, hungry and hurt. There was mud both slick and gritty at once on my hands and oozing through my clothes and sticking my eyes together and I screamed as I feared the hated grip of that demon that could not be my love.
But the rain, and the screams and the thoughts all did stop, and I slept. I would believe all the horror to be a dream when I awoke, and I would believe this for years to come, for years and weeks and blessed days when I only thought myself coward instead of cursed; the one who ran from his lover's deathbed in grief.
[Don't fall away
And leave me to myself]
"Juan, dear." She was as beautiful as she ever would be on any summer's day.
I lay in the mud on the riverbank, my right arm outflung into shallow, cold water with its hand clutching Mirei's toy crane. Shouka…surely she was on the far bank, and I could see her shining even in the night, but to my eyes she seemed to balance on the crane; the bright fairy princess in her tiny boat.
"Juan, I will never really leave you. I am always here." Ah, the princess smiles, her bright hair all alight. And I smiled, too.
"I will always love you, Juan." And she went away from me, like that. She faded and disappeared as gracefully as she had ever moved, and I thought I felt a feather-kiss upon my forehead.
I had wanted to tell her no, but I never could. I was always quiet.
[Don't fall away
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again]
The crane floated on the surface of the water, slipping from my sleep-weakened fingers. The river caught it up in its eddies and dashing currents, swirling it out of sight. As it faded from view, a pinpoint of light engulfed the paper as if it were burning, and the crane ceased to exist.
As I open my eyes, the crane floats dangerously close to the side of the vessel. I reach out to it, but the ocean slaps it against the hull and it is gone.
And I crumple to the deck in tears.
[Leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again]
"Mitsukake-san…" Chiriko murmurs, standing by my side. "If you'd like some company…" His little hand clasps mine, and I clutch at it childishly. He is the wise elder one, and I am the child, for now.
Chichiri pads closer, sits down beside me and rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. Nothing needs to be said. The understanding between us is enough.
"We're here for ya, buddy." Tasuki crouches, a brotherly sort of grin on his face. He smiles so easily. I wish I could reassure him by smiling back, but I can't. Not now.
"Always," Tamahome agrees.
Standing by Tamahome's side, Miaka nods, holding Tamahome's hand. "Yep!" They are…together. A sweet couple, but…how can I say it…sugar-sweet is all they'll ever be. I take their sugar with a grain of salt and the comfort it's meant to give.
"So you have nothing to worry about!" Nuriko singsongs, flashing a victory sign. He pats me on the head, long hair flipping over his shoulder.
[Leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again]
"My friends…my friends…" I sob, and bury my face in my hands.
