A/N: Trying to keep up with my two other fanfics... I just realized…this is hard…. Anyway, it just popped into my mind listening to UVERworld's "Just Melody" and watching Blood (plus)(Yes, I listen to music while watching anime. Just put the video on mute, read the subs, and listen to music). So basically, this fanfic, like the other two, is totally random. I'll write what comes to mind and I have to say; I can't guarantee a happy ending, nor can I promise dates set for future chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran or its characters. It all belongs to Bisco Hatori-sama.
Rating: K for now
Dedicated to: Alex de Mattis, my friend who is joining the US Marine Corps in two years.
Warning: Some OOCness
Pairing: RengeXNekozawa
Just Melody
Prologue
By Shinigami XOXO, beta'd by Twilight Dragoness
She opened her eyes unwillingly to the pestering voice of her maid. "Ojou-sama?" She looked up to see Marie's smiling happy-go-lucky face. "Ojou-sama?" Marie repeated after she stared at her blankly for a few moments.
She pulled the covers over her head, snuggled deeper into the oversized feather mattress and growled, "What do you want?"
"The Master has returned! The Master has returned!" she chirped.
Wide-eyed and alert now, she sat up straight, flung her comforter off her bed, stretched her arms out, and yelled, "Rise and shine!" Leaping off the bed lightly, she went to her closet, opened the double doors, and asked Marie, "What day is it?" as she rummaged through the revolving glass racks of summer clothes.
Still wearing her bright smile, Marie answered, in her I'm-happy-to-be-of-service voice, "It's Friday!" She stared out the enormous glass window that also served as a wall dreamily. "And the perfect day to start a summer romance…isn't that right, Ojou-sama?"
THUMP. Then there was a ruffle of clothes. When Marie peered curiously into the wardrobe big enough to clothe a hundred… "Ojou-sama?" she repeated.
"I'M OKAY!" came the enthusiastic squeal from under a pile of the latest fashions.
As Marie started to approach her with interest, the girl's golden brown head shot up from the clothes, startling her. Marie jumped a bit.
"I meant what day as in, the month, day, and year?"
"Hoy es viernes el cuatro de Julio del 2-mil-8!" Marie took a little bow as she relayed the information in Spanish.
As the information sunk in and realization dawned, her cheerful expression from just a moment ago faded sullenly…
"Soka. That's why Otou-san is home."
Marie was confused and uneasy… "Ojou-sama…"
She went into the deepest part of her closet and began yet another search. Finally, after a minute's work of sorting through the clothes, she reached a simple, flowing white summer dress with a black sash that was adjustable at the diaphragm. She smiled bitterly. "Okaa-san bought this right before she—"
Her voice cracked. Her eyes grew watery, but she didn't let the tears pass. She wasn't that person who broke down at every possible imperfection in her life. Her grip tightened on the hanger on which the elegant dress was suspended from. Her golden brown hair fell so that her face was barely visible.
In an instant, her mood had changed. I refuse. I refuse to let myself sink…again…Once was enough. Twice is…unacceptable.
"Ah!" she bent down on the richly carpeted floor and picked up black high heels. Designer high heels no doubt. She rushed over to Marie and handed her the dress and heels.
"Smooth out the dress for me, okay? I'll be downstairs in a minute." Skipping, she passed servants in the hall and greeted them warmly. "OH- HAYO, MINA!"
"Renge," said a deep and hollow voice.
She turned to face her father, clad in a suit of all black. "Otou-san," she bowed properly, her voice fullof cheer.
"It's today."
"Yes, it is."
He sat in his room, blond hair falling into his blue eyes. His mouth was curved into a smile as he read the last sentence of the book. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he flopped himself onto the black cushion on the black sheeted bed. He breathed in deeply.
Another treacherous sunny day, huh? Mother in Heaven…it's been three years now…
With his bangs out of his face for a change as he adjusted his back to the giving softness of the cushion, he would have stopped any girl in her tracks. He reached for the slices of cake he'd put on the nightstand by his bed with his right hand, and with his left set the book down.
He devoured the cake with a passion unmatchable to anyone else's for sweets. Except maybe for the host club's martial artist, that…that…Ha-haninozuka-san? Regardless, perhaps it was because his baby sister had made it, but he'd always been fond of sugar. As the old chef had told him, he'd had a sweet tooth since birth, refusing to pass one meal without sugar.
He set down the fork after licking it clean. He looked toward the curtained window. That was what protected him from the very sun he called perfidious, the sun that failed to protect his mother. It was under the plain view of this so-called light from the disloyal sun that his mother's life had been taken so thoughtlessly…so reckless, ruthlessly…
But his mother loved the sunshine; she had written beautiful poems of its kindness, beauty, and goodness and read them to him as a child. That was what had inspired his poetic thoughts…Regardless, her thoughts were carefree and happy, yet his was the polar opposite.
He still felt her warmth as she held him when he was sick. He could still smell her scent, one of lavender and pines and something else he could never identify, a fragrance so comforting. Still, the image of her dying face haunted him. The touch of her hand, as he stood there in the cold hospital, with hypercritic doctors looking on, feigning concern. Their faces were down, in respect, but in reality, none of them knew her enough to care if she died or lived…
Today was the day four years ago…when Okaa-san was so uncaringly slaughtered by convicts… If only he hadn't asked her to go to Okinawa that day… if only the one dead was…
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Okay, don't get worked up over nothing.
It's not nothing. It's my mother!
Okay, okay…
It's my mother!
"Onii-chan?" Kirimi's tiny voice came from the crack at the doors.
He looked up from his book he hadn't realized he was clutching so tightly. He relaxed his grip. "Kirimi?" His voice was gentle from the love he held for his sister whom he couldn't have seen without the help of the Host Club.
"Otou-san is downstairs, waiting." She stepped foot into the dark room and he could see that the hall was brightly lit with the sunlight streaming in from the glass roof above. Many a night, he'd lean against the wooden, antique staircase rail, black hood on, and stare into the sky when everybody was asleep…imagining just falling into it…if only that was possible…
He smiled. "Soka. I'll be down in a minute."
The little girl opened the door some more and he winced. "Kirimi-chan—"
"Onii-chan. Why don't you ever wear white?" Her eyes indicated her curiosity…and innocence. She didn't understand the capacity of the blunt question she had just asked her brother…
As he fidgeted, coming up with an answer, a firm voice from behind her said, "Umehito, 5 minutes." She disappeared, and the voice, clearly belonging to his uncle, did as well. For which he was grateful for. That is, his uncle disappearing. It wasn't as if they were on the best of terms; or rather, they weren't even in the most casual of terms. He was his mother's brother, but a stranger to him.
Getting out of bed, he picked up the suit left for him by his father earlier by the mirror, on a chair. He thought of his dream last night as he changed into the suit consisting of mostly black.
He couldn't see her face. But he could see her outline, and could hear the melody of her voice. Her scent…lavender, pine, and something else. His mother's unique perfume…he'd always thought it was handmade, so nobody else he'd ever met wore it. But yet here she was…singing…
There's a hero,
If you look inside your heart,
You don't have to be afraid of what you are,
There's an answer,
If you reach into your soul,
And the sorrow that you know will melt away.
She twirled in her long, silver evening gown. She seemed so happy, without a care in the world. If he wasn't so absorbed in the steady rhythm of her voice, if not for the spark in his heart when he heard her, he'd be jealous she could care so little…that she could be so happy…
And then a hero comes along,
With the strength to carry on,
And you cast your fears aside and you know you can survive,
So when you feel like hope is gone,
Look inside you and be strong,
And you'll finally see the truth that a hero lies in you.
And then she smiled. At him.
She smiled at me…He tugged on his tie to make sure it was not loose. The last time, he was strictly reprimanded for not making sure his tie was tight enough. It couldn't be too tight, not too loose either. Just perfect.
Brushing a bit of gel onto his hair carelessly, he splashed cold water on his face for comfort and wiped it with a nearby towel. He looked himself in the eye, in the mirror. I can do this. I've done it the past three years. This'd make the fourth. I didn't cry then, did I? Then I can't break down now…
He opened the door and left the sanctuary of his room with a soft click of the door.
Her heels clicked as they made contact with the black granite ground of the Hoshakuji burial grounds. In her arms were a dozen fragile cream orange roses, her mother's favorite. She placed the bouquet of flowers in the vase beside the tomb that held her mother's ashes.
Everybody else was leaving as she stood there, seemingly spaced out, recalling memories. But everything seemed so far away…because nobody cared enough to stay and ask if she was okay. Because nobody care to visit her funeral (except her father) except for business purposes—to make connections. That was all they wanted to do on this day, this very day and hour her mother's life was taken away.
She reached into her purse to pull out the treasure her mother left behind for her. A music box, it was. After her mother died, she played it over and over for so many times she'd memorized it—the entire melody.
She didn't know how long she stood there, just thinking, just remembering, just looking…
After the necessary procedures, he remained there, talking to his mother in his head…Kirimi stayed by him, refusing to be taken home by anyone. She insisted on being his company. She would call his name once a while, but he wouldn't—rather, couldn't answer. If he said something, he might have choked on a sob. So he kept an emotionless face. That is, an emotionless face buried in his arms, which rested on his knees while he sat on the floor.
"Onii-ch—"
"Kirimi-chan." She was interrupted by her brother in an abrupt…fit of impatience? Or was it simply the need to be alone?
"Hey, can you go back to the limo right now and tell them to leave?"
"Do I have to go too?"
"Please."
She looked at him with his blue eyes and hesitated. "OK," she finally said obediently.
"Arigato, Kirimi-chan."
He watched as she went back and did as he directed. The moment they were out of sight, he let out a sigh and slouched into his usual position on the floor, face now in his arms. He wasn't crying…no, he wouldn't let himself cry. No way.
He fell asleep on the cold marble floor, sitting with his knees pulled toward his chest, arms around his knees, and face in them. For how long he slept he would never know, but when he awoke, thunder was rumbling and lightning was lighting up the darkening skies.
Looking outside, he found the limos gone and himself alone. Finally.
He took off his jacket. Man, it's hot in here.
Pulling his tie loose, he went outside, jacket in hand, and look up at the sky as small raindrops started to fall. Unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, he ran. Ran without aim, without direction. Mother in Heaven…
He arrived at a dead end—a river. Hell, what's a river gonna do to me?
He threw the so-called casual suit jacket whose price wasn't so casual over his head and on the branch of a nearby tree. He jumped into the river, swimming against the current, away from the last rays of sunlight. He fought restlessly, relentlessly against the natural flow of water.
Then he heard it—the same melody, the same rhythm as the voice in his dream. He swam to shore and, blond hair dripping wet, soaked clothes trying to weigh him down, he walked toward the source of the voice…
A girl with golden brown hair made into a loose side braid. She was wearing a white, strapless summer dress, with a black sash and black high heels. By the gods, she's beautiful…
She was not facing him, so didn't see or hear him because of the rain's noise. But he could hear her…voice so clear and vibrant, scent so like his mother's…
Nothing but an empty page
Breathing in an open space
Captured by your moment's grace again
There's so much I left behind
Even more that waits in time
Everything's so undefined
I'm standing on the edge of my fear
And I see it clear
The rain was falling heavier now, soaking both him and her. But she seemed every bit the more beautiful in the rain, wet hair and weighed down dress…still, she continued singing…her vocal cords matching and surpassing those of the original singer.
Living life without a plan
Finding solace where I stand
And learning how to love again
And all I want is something real
That I can feel
There was a clapping of hands. Startled, she looked around and saw the face of no other than Nekozawa Umehito, meeting his blue eyes with her honey-brown warm ones…It seemed as if they were the reincarnated Romeo and Juliet, Pyramus and Thisbe, the Tristan and Isolde of their own time.
And so, light met night, dark met day. The shadow of the day will embrace the world in grey. White had become black, sunrise sunset, human animal. The world had been turned upside down. Two forces of polar opposites will clash…or not. The question is, do polar opposites attract?
A/N: It's 2 AM right now so I must stop typing… The first song (in the dream) is "Hero" by Mariah Carey, the second (the raining part) is "Resolution" by Nick Lachey. And the "shadow of the day will embrace the world in grey" thing is from Linkin Park's "Shadow of the Day." It seems not so good right now, so if you find it amazing, I have to credit my editor, Sribble (Twilight Dragoness).