Disclaimer: I do not own anything

••• The Earth and The Sky •••

As the summer breeze gently combed his messy dark locks, Daichi stood in the middle of the grassy plains in Hokkaido, his hands clenched into fists by his side and his head tilted towards the blinding sun. For once, he appreciated the peaceful whispers of the wind as it stroked his skin, and although the brilliance of the fiery star in the azure burned, he could not help but think the sensation was more pleasant compared to the salty moisture's sting behind his lids. It was not often he actually bothered to embrace the beauty of the outside world, but during this time, he always found himself entranced by the serenity and calm of all nature's wonder. Perhaps he had learned how to cherish after losing the person he had never treated right.

He had never treated him right.

It was ridiculous now to regret, but that was the ugly beast of humanity that he could not defeat.

"Daichi."

There was a sudden touch on his shoulder—he turned around, his dull russet gaze locking with the shining one of his lover. Her hand flinched away, her head inclining—but not before he saw the faint redness of her eyes. His teeth caught the inside of his bottom lip, sorely drawing guilt across its flesh. He counted her breaths, waiting.

She swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry I can't come with you."

He knew she was, and he had severely kicked and punched his dim brain when he lashed out at her the night before. He was well aware it wasn't her fault—a renowned gourmet was coming to assess her new restaurant, and she couldn't arrange for a different time—but still it hurt him so much that she couldn't spare even one second for the occasion he needed her most.

"I really am sorry, Daichi." Her voice was beginning to crack, slowly rising higher, slowly falling quieter. "I honestly do want to go with you, more than anything. And I miss him just as much as you do."

She used to love him so dearly—how could he not realise that the guilt was torturing her as much as it did him?

"I'm so, so sorry." She was gasping hard now, messily covering her face behind her hands, gentle sobs jolting her shoulders and wrenching his heart of all the blood it strained to beat. "Please forgive me."

How much longer could he stay mad at her for?

Very lightly, Daichi curled his fingers around his beloved's and lowered them from her face, tentatively trying to meet her gaze. Pangs of conscience stung his chest—he softly pressed his lips to the corners of her swollen eyes, taking in her tender tears. "I already have." He felt the pain inside soothe ever so slightly when he saw the slight relief relaxing her features. "I'm sorry as well. I should have been more understanding and supportive of you."

The aspiring chef attempted a smile. (At least she tried.) "I guess we're both to blame, huh?" The concealer didn't do a fantastic job at cloaking the redness of her nose, and her voice failed miserably to hide the sorrow breaking apart her words. "I can see you off if you want, Daichi."

Daichi shook his head, running his thumb over the blonde's knuckles. "It's fine. You should focus on setting up the restaurant for that critic guy. I'll be alright on my own."

"Are you sure?"

He loved his wife, much more than even he could ever comprehend—but when she looked at him with such an anxious expression, with so much fear glinting in those chocolate eyes and sinking into the skin beneath them, he felt—almost—like he was being belittled. She was only concerned, and that wasn't something he could curse her for (it was simply natural), but it made the prickling tears behind his eyes threaten to surface, and he so, so badly did not want to cry now.

Flashing his charming, signature grin (he hadn't a doubt that Najika noticed the loss of its glow), he bumped his forehead against hers and gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. "Who do you think you're asking? I'm going to be just fine."

There was only so much he could do to try to convince her, and he knew well that it wasn't nearly enough.

Najika boosted herself up to the ends of her toes and pushed her face right in front of his, glaring into his startled eyes. "I'm with you, Daichi! No matter where you are, I'm always with you!"

Ah. This was why he loved her so much. Who wouldn't when seeing such deep sincerity in her most captivating orbs?

Gripping her hands, he lowered his head and gently laid his lips upon her own. For a second, he felt her start and was ready to pull away—but without a second pause she eased into his kiss and held his hands as tight as he did hers, reminding him that he wasn't alone.

And he wanted to stay there for just a little bit longer—but he instantly pulled back when he heard the sudden and urgent honk of the car behind him. Exasperatedly, he tore his gaze from his wife to the damned driver, who sat at the wheel with a sheepish grin, and Daichi allowed his fingers to express all his vexation for him.

Cursing under his breath, he turned back to Najika, and a mirthful chuckle escaped his lips when he saw the blush spreading across her cheeks—the woman still became incredibly embarrassed with every small gesture of affection, and the driver seeing them certainly wasn't helping to cool her down. Honestly, he found it very adorable—hell if he would ever admit it though.

With a light, tired sigh, he settled with pecking the back of her hands, his gaze never leaving hers. "I'll be back, okay?"

The bright hue of scarlet still glowing vividly on her face, her brows scrunched together into a frown as she stared with hurtful skepticism at her husband. "You will eat the lunch I made for you, right?"

"Yes, I will."

"And you won't make a fuss at the airport or on the plane?"

"'Course not."

"And you will call me when you land?"

"Definitely."

"And you won't argue with Seiya when he comes to pick you up?"

"I'll do my best not to."

"And—"

"Goddammit, Najika, you're my wife, not my mother!" Daichi groaned.

"I can't help it!" Najika cried, her frown intensifying into a glower. "I'm worried about you, you know!"

Rolling his eyes, he gently planted a kiss upon her forehead, and he couldn't suppress the smirk tugging his lips when he felt heat rush to that particular area. "Like I told you, I'll be just fine. Trust me a little, won't you?"

Najika's visage lifted into a warm, radiant smile, and it almost made him forget the reality of what was about to haunt him. "Then take care of yourself, Daichi."

How he wished he didn't have to let go.

It felt incredibly odd to inhale such a different scent—over the years, he had learned to adapt to the fresh, nippy air of Hokkaido, and now the smell of his home felt more alien than familiar. Car fumes, stifling heat, bustling streets, loud and indecipherable chatter—what else did he expect, really? Oh, it almost suffocated him, having to be in this city again. Not that he disliked the place—but when he had to constantly remind himself the reason he returned, he couldn't help the sickness churning in his stomach.

"Daichi!"

Jerking his head up at the call of his name, a wave of relief washed over the thick mixture of bile and dread when he found the ever-so-popular and gorgeous face of his childhood friend. "Hey, Akane!"

Although most couldn't possibly recognize her under her guise, Daichi had never mistaken the features of the most famous fashion magazine's cover model. Tossing back her dark, glossy curls, she strutted forward in her classy five-inch pencil heels, all denim shorts and fancy sunglasses topped with a red plaid shirt. Of course, even being as careful as she was about keeping hidden, she still made the effort to appear in style and stunningly attractive.

"It's been ages since I last saw you!" she gushed, her cherry lips wide and open in a jubilant beam as she threw her arms around him, and Daichi had to lift her in the air so he wouldn't fall over from the force of her leap. "Oh my god, did you grow muscles or something?"

"Hey, I've always been this strong!" Daichi laughed. "You look as young as ever, Akane!"

"You make it sound as if I'm sixty!" the model exclaimed, puffing up her left cheek and knitting her brows together irritatedly at her first crush.

Daichi chuckled as he lowered her to the ground. "I meant that you look nice."

He didn't fail to notice the faint scarlet tinging her cheek, but he didn't regret saying so—he knew that (thankfully) there was someone else's praises which she treasured and appreciated much more now than she did his.

Of course, he was bound to feel slightly uncomfortable when he caught the small stammer in her voice: "R-really?"

"Yeah!" He grinned nonetheless. "Are those new earrings? They look good on you."

"Th-thanks!"

"Hey, don't forget that she's my girlfriend," came a sigh, and approaching the pair was his wife's greatest rival with a frown on his face, who slipped his hand around Akane's waist and pulled her closer to him—almost making the girl trip in the process.

"Nice to see you too, Seiya." Daichi rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping sorely from his tongue. "Jesus Christ, I've got a wife, you know, and I do still love her."

He hadn't a clue what sort of thoughts the man viewed him with, but he definitely was not pleased with the skeptical deadpan being shot his way. Honestly!—he never acted so protective when the idiot was flirting with Najika. (At least he thought so, but every time the prodigious chef did so much as snatch a glimpse at her, he would do the exact same to his lover as Seiya to his own.) Really, if anybody was to be accused of cheating on their lover, the most likely suspect would have been him.

"Goodness sake, are you two grownup men or high school boys?" Akane groaned, pushing herself away from her jealous fool of a boyfriend—who, Daichi euphorically noted, looked slightly irked by the model's swift escape from his grasp. "Come on, we need to go! I've got a commercial shooting to attend soon, and my manager's going to kill me if I'm late!"

"Yeah, yeah, we hear you!" Seiya grunted, stretching his arms over his head with a very-much-annoyed glare on his face.

But gleaming softly within those chocolate brown eyes, Daichi found a radiant affection with which Seiya gazed at his beloved, the glare that twisted his lips melting into a sweet, gentle smile.

And it was so familiar, he could feel his heart breaking.

Walking along the stone-paved path, Daichi swallowed the nauseating nostalgia surging up his throat as he took in the countless graves scattered over the grass. To think so many people were buried beneath the earth, cold and decayed, with only hungry pests as their companions while everybody else roamed freely on land—and more than half of these people already forgotten—it was such a queer thought, bewildering, bemusing, too great to comprehend.

He tried desperately not to think that one day, maybe he would be one of them.

At last, he stopped before a gravestone, and as if to greet him, a sighing wind came and caressed his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Sora Kitazawa

The name was etched so carefully onto the stone, still looked so new, as if it had been placed the day before. Lying before it was a bouquet of lilies, fresh and wrapped in plastic foil, their petals the most vibrant hue of white. So it seemed his father had visited already. He would have gone with him, but the man had a school to run, so he had to get up early to leave—and Daichi thought that this time, he wanted to be alone.

So what now?

He sucked in a deep breath, calming his thumping heart, and pasted the best smile he could manage. "Hey." He's not going to reply, you know. "It's me, Daichi." Who else would you be? "How're you doing?" How do you think he's doing, you idiot?

He sighed, his lips pursing. Honestly, what could he say to a stupid skeleton that was six feet under?

A sharp chill snaked down his spine.

He shouldn't have thought that.

"I…" Just don't think. Whatever he wanted to say, he could say now. Every regret, sorrow, joy. Maybe he couldn't hear him—but maybe that would have been better.

So he tried again. From the very beginning. "It's been five years since…"

Don't stop. "…since you left us."

You can do it. "You know a lot of it already, right? About Seiya's transfer, the competition, my memories. And then Najika's Flan Prince. You lied…"

Keep going. "You lied for my sake back then, didn't you? So that I wouldn't remember about Mom."

That's it. "And you didn't care that I hated you for everything."

You're fine. "Did I…"

You're fine, Daichi. "Did I thank you for that before?"

His breath shuddered out of his lips, the words heavy as they rolled off his tongue. "Seiya and Akane are actually dating now. Najika saw it coming, but it still kind of weirds me out. Oh, and Najika's opened up a new restaurant back in Hokkaido. This big shot critic guy is going to assess it today—that's why she's not here."

The boulders were coming up his throat, grating his windpipe as it went—he had to tell him everything.

"I'm married to her now." At last, they tumbled off, tumbled from his lips and crashed onto the cold concrete—yet their weight still remained on his chest. "We've been married for four months. She said she wished you were at our wedding; she said she wished you were there. And I…"

Don't stop, Daichi. "I…"

Please. "I couldn't say anything."

Daichi. "Brother…"

You have to tell him. "I'm sorry, I—"

And a sob gasped out as he screamed, "I was relieved that you weren't there!"

His mind throbbing, his throat burning, his legs trembling, his fists clenching, his heart aching as the tears streamed down his cheeks, he kept on screaming. "I'm sorry! I was scared! Because if you were here—"

His voice withered to a trembling whisper, the heel of his palm pressing against his wet eyes. "If you were here, I wouldn't even have her, would I? And that—" He gritted his teeth, shame even heavier on his heart. "That scared me."

The devil's snake coiling him in regret, disgust gripping his body, his voice breaking like loud static. "The worst part is that even if you were here, Brother—if you had never died—I would have treated you the exact same way I did when you were alive."

No longer able to fight the gravity of his remorse, he plunged to his knees and punched the earth—but he couldn't even feel the agony that ripped the skin of his knuckles. "I want to have been kinder to you. I want to! But I could never have treasured you if you were still here—and I can't even treasure you now!

"It makes me so disgusted with myself! It makes me so ashamed, so frustrated—it's so, so painful!"

He bowed his head and kneeled before his brother's shadow, blood trickling from his scorching fists as he pounded the ground. The wind grew stronger and howled with his voice, biting his skin and slicing his flesh—and the sun did not lend its warmth.

"I'm sorry, Brother!" he yelled with all of his might. "I'M SORRY!"

Nobody was there to hear him weep, to ridicule his weakness, or to wipe away his tears. Alone with his brother's death looming above him, his cries tore through the heavens and shattered the air.

And for one small moment, he wondered if they reached him.

He didn't know how long he stayed there for, how long he grieved and yelled—and he didn't even know when he returned to his home. His own sobs echoed in his ears, his words resonating like a witch's curse in his mind.

But deep within all those sickening thoughts, he found a voice kind and knowing—bright yet tender—and so heartbreakingly familiar.

"I'm sorry."

And he felt like laughing so hard, felt like crying yet again. What was he apologising for?

"I'm sorry."

He had nothing to forgive him for.

"I'm sorry."

A sigh, as soft as the lullaby of a piano, fell from his lips. Perhaps, from the beginning, that was where he belonged—high above him, above the skies, above the world—because wasn't that the meaning of his name?

"Sora," he dared to whisper. "I'm sorry."

Silence, for the most fleeting of moments. Then he answered, with that warm, gentle smile on his lips:

"It's okay."

And that it now was.

Don't question me here, guys. I know this is probably one of the least popular fandoms in the world, and that it isn't in my comfort zone, and that it's probably terribly written—but when I reread this manga, I reached a point where I felt so sad, so bad, and I was bawling my eyes out. See, as a person who treasures her sister, I really get emotional when I see affection between siblings in manga or anime, more so than in romantic relationships, because there's just this sort of special closeness. Although I personally feel it is not the best manga I have ever read (and I have read A LOT of manga), I still enjoyed it.

And I loved Sora, honest—but I only truly felt his death when Daichi began to cry. Sora was kind, and sweet, and mysterious in a sort. I really wish we could have seen him a bit more, and understood him as well. Seriously, he deserved so much better. I can't actually remember when he died, but I think it was sometime during the summer, so . . . it's just a wild guess, guys, don't be mad! And I wanted to try and be a bit more realistic with Daichi's character, so I kind of went down that difficult route . . . haha, bad idea . . . rather than realistic, it got a bit dramatic?

Besides—I figured I should broaden my horizons, open new doors, and try my hand with a different cast of characters. ;) Otherwise, becoming an author is going to be very difficult if I can't work with different personalities and keep to them.

In any case, there was my little(?) oneshot. It's nothing incredibly emotional or the slightest bit tear-jerking since I'm still an amateur, but it's something, I guess. This isn't the best I have ever done—actually, it could be the worst—but I wanted to write this, so I did. As you can see, I kind of rushed this a bit, because I really just wanted this done and out. I hope nobody was too OOC, and that you all more or less enjoyed this fic.

Thank you for reading, guys! Smiles, frowns, love, hate, reviews and feedback will always be appreciated! ;)

The Happy Pen