Denied
By Ryuuen
Warnings: Angst, spoilers for Omi's past, implied underage sex/rape, dark themes.
A/N: My fourth Weiss Kreuz fanfic (because poems don't count). ^_^ This is a kinda depressing piece I'm writing at nine fifty-two p.m. on a Friday night.. on Omi-kun's sorta-birthday (if he wasn't born on the leap year, his birthday woulda been today, the 28th of Feb., or the 1st of March) and two days before my own birthday (the 2nd of March).. I should be more excited and less angsty.. but I'm not. So here's a glimpse into Omi's past.. as a song-fic. The song is "Ito Chiisaki Negai" ("The Smallest Wish"), by Orikasa Ai (as Chiriko) from Fushigi Yuugi. Please enjoy.
NOTE: Focus of the story switches from Takatori Reiji to Tsukiyono Omi/ Takatori Mamoru.
DENIED
~~~~~~~
~~"People are foolish, aren't they? People are fickle, aren't they? They don't pray unless they're hurt."~~
The dark eyes scanned the letter carefully, frowning upon the "conditions of release" that were listed. Too much money. Too much waste for one who wasn't even closely related to him. Only a nephew. He could be replaced. Would be.
"What are you going to do?" Shuuichi, his brother, asked, his eyes hopeful, almost pleading. Takatori Reiji would have scoffed if the situation were different. He looked so childish. So pitiful. He had always liked Mamoru.
"These demands are too much." Was all that Reiji would say. He saw the hurt and pain flicker to life in his brother's expression, saw him push it away and try to remain objective, until at least he could be alone to cry for the loss of his "nephew".
Silently, without emotion, Takatori Reiji took the letter from those who had kidnapped his nephew, and tore it into fragments of it's former being, sprinkling like snowflakes to the floor.
~~"They forget, since some time ago, that they're devoted to living, accepting God's grace."~~
It was too much to ask for him not to cry. Too much to ask for him to remain silent in his grief and fear. Tears like rain and crystals fell, and sobs wracked his tiny frame like blows. He had long since stopped trying not to look weak. He didn't care, and he knew they didn't. They hardly paid attention to him, except to give him a little bit of food or a small sip of water every so often. He didn't know how much time passed, his time as a prisoner in a cell with no windows, like being trapped outside the world.
Possibly what bothered five year old Takatori Mamoru the most was that it was always dark as night in the tiny, windowless, airless cell. He had always been at least a little bit afraid of the dark, what kid wasn't?, and it frightened him further that the only light he ever saw was when his captors entered and left, with their bland food and tasteless drink. When that light came, it hurt his eyes to see it, for he had become accustomed to only seeing the darkness of the cell. He had begun to be able to make out the corners of the small cell. It was quite a feat for a boy so young.
Yet still, the quiet prodigy of the Takatori clan wept, because somehow he knew no one was coming to save him.
~~"One cannot live for someone, pulling up the love that bloomed in the heart."~~
It was quiet in the darkness of night. No sound disturbed the silence except for the heavy breathing of one trying to conceal sobs, and the barely-there sound of teardrops falling to the floor.
In the corner of the expensive bedroom, Takatori Shuuichi, who would someday be known as Persia, quietly wept for his kidnapped nephew, his favorite nephew, who was only five. His brother Reiji had refused to pay for the ransom, leaving his son to the mercy of those who had stolen him away. Leaving him to the mercy of those who had no mercy.
It was all he could do to keep from paying the ransom himself- selling his things for the money and rescuing his nephew. But he knew he couldn't do that. Since their father's death, Reiji had become the head of the family. To go against him was to be either disowned or killed. Shuuichi figured that Reiji would probably be more likely to turn to the latter, the former being far more lenient than Reiji usually was.
So all he could do was to cry. And pray.
~~"People are small, aren't they? People are hollow, aren't they? Return one day to the heavens."~~
It had been almost three years since his imprisonment in the cell. He stood alone in a room that reminded him dully of that, but had a bit more light, filtered through small windows, one above the sink, the other above the table. The entire kitchen was dirty, the appliances in desperate need of repair. This he saw clearly, with blue eyes that held warmth, but as the days passed, were becoming colder. Those eyes, staring out at the world, that were so much older than his eight-year old body.
He was the nameless one. The one who was lost in the streets until some pervert decided to bring him home and lock him up for a couple of days, to do what they wished with him, then give him some clothes and food, releasing him back onto the streets. Sure, though, there was the occasional nice old lady or, even rarer, genuinely kind person, who would let them into their home for a night, sometimes two, but more often than not, only the perverts let him in. It was surprising how many of them there was, who were willing to take in this scruffy brown-haired boy, even for just a day or two. It was sick.
They would ask his name, sometimes. He had nothing to say.
~~"In the garden of the heavens, everyone smiles, loving the people they were seperated from."~~
"You don't have a name?" The speculative voice echoed in the small chamber, and the boy standing in front of his desk nodded gravely, a grim cold in his icy blue eyes. Takatori Shuuichi guessed that those eyes hadn't always been that cold. "Shall I give you one?"
"If you want." Was the reply. The voice of the fifteen year old boy was quiet, husky, as though not very much used. He stood perfectly straight, his clothes hanging off of him as though a hanger, yet for his size and his thinness, he seemed surprisingly strong. For all that he lacked in physical strengths, he seemed to make up for in mental quickness and agility, his scores on the tests he had been given before advancing to this stage of the interview process had been through the roof, and in the physical tests he had proven himself to be very athetic, thin and fast, and his small size seemed to conceal a much greater power. Shuuichi found himself impressed despite himself.
Shuuichi took a long moment to think, staring into those icy eyes, seeing something elusive there, the shreds of emotions that had been lost long ago. But even more than that, he saw a determination, and knew that he was more than merely a street-kid. In that moment, he was almost sure of who this child was. Maybe he would never tell the boy, but he knew. And in that knowledge, he found a name. A name that would certainly fit the boy, whether he was who he thought or not. A name that would carry on to become the child's own, and perhaps he wouldn't even remember who had given him that name. Perhaps he would. Perhaps he would even forget that the name was not his own. All the possibilities, he knew, would keep him awake late into the night, but at least, for now, he had a name that the child could bear. A name for the nameless boy, who had come to him without an identity, and would leave to become great.
"Your name... your name will be Tsukiyono Omi."
~~"If I could have one small wish come true, it would be for stars to illuminate your darkness."~~
He wore a slight smile, the joke eliciting a tiny laugh from the boy, who sat on his belly on the bed, one leg sticking up in the air, the other having fallen onto the pillow, as he was sitting the wrong way on the bed, his head on his hands, looking up at his roommate and best friend with innocent adoration, the coldness having long since departed from those blue eyes, and the health long since returned to his slim body, though he would always be small, and he would always know the pain of those who were starving, whose bodies ate themselves because they could find no other nourishment, slowly falling to oblivion around them. But now, he was safe and comfortable, in a place where no one could hurt him, just talking, because at the moment it felt good. He didn't have to run anymore. And even if he never remembered how he knew these feelings, those that came from the past that he had long since forgotten, letting the trauma of that time jar him into amnesia. He would wonder about his past, but whenever he thought overmuch about it, he got a terrible headache and had to stop to find the Ibuprofen. Now, though, he was simply smiling, laughing at the small joke that had been told, and feeling completely at ease in the world. His eyes were clear as crystal, and his happiness veritably glowed. There was pain in that gaze, but it was vague, a long-forgotten darkness that he didn't care to dwell on.
"Ken-kun?" He asked slowly, his eyes turning thoughtful as he looked up at his best friend and roommate. "Do you know anything about my past..?"
"No," Ken said, then smiled slightly at his younger friend. "What brings that question on?"
"Oh, nothing.." Omi said softly, smiling. "Nevermind."
~~"People are small, aren't they? People are hollow, aren't they? Return one day to the heavens. Return, return."~~
~owari~
By Ryuuen
Warnings: Angst, spoilers for Omi's past, implied underage sex/rape, dark themes.
A/N: My fourth Weiss Kreuz fanfic (because poems don't count). ^_^ This is a kinda depressing piece I'm writing at nine fifty-two p.m. on a Friday night.. on Omi-kun's sorta-birthday (if he wasn't born on the leap year, his birthday woulda been today, the 28th of Feb., or the 1st of March) and two days before my own birthday (the 2nd of March).. I should be more excited and less angsty.. but I'm not. So here's a glimpse into Omi's past.. as a song-fic. The song is "Ito Chiisaki Negai" ("The Smallest Wish"), by Orikasa Ai (as Chiriko) from Fushigi Yuugi. Please enjoy.
NOTE: Focus of the story switches from Takatori Reiji to Tsukiyono Omi/ Takatori Mamoru.
DENIED
~~~~~~~
~~"People are foolish, aren't they? People are fickle, aren't they? They don't pray unless they're hurt."~~
The dark eyes scanned the letter carefully, frowning upon the "conditions of release" that were listed. Too much money. Too much waste for one who wasn't even closely related to him. Only a nephew. He could be replaced. Would be.
"What are you going to do?" Shuuichi, his brother, asked, his eyes hopeful, almost pleading. Takatori Reiji would have scoffed if the situation were different. He looked so childish. So pitiful. He had always liked Mamoru.
"These demands are too much." Was all that Reiji would say. He saw the hurt and pain flicker to life in his brother's expression, saw him push it away and try to remain objective, until at least he could be alone to cry for the loss of his "nephew".
Silently, without emotion, Takatori Reiji took the letter from those who had kidnapped his nephew, and tore it into fragments of it's former being, sprinkling like snowflakes to the floor.
~~"They forget, since some time ago, that they're devoted to living, accepting God's grace."~~
It was too much to ask for him not to cry. Too much to ask for him to remain silent in his grief and fear. Tears like rain and crystals fell, and sobs wracked his tiny frame like blows. He had long since stopped trying not to look weak. He didn't care, and he knew they didn't. They hardly paid attention to him, except to give him a little bit of food or a small sip of water every so often. He didn't know how much time passed, his time as a prisoner in a cell with no windows, like being trapped outside the world.
Possibly what bothered five year old Takatori Mamoru the most was that it was always dark as night in the tiny, windowless, airless cell. He had always been at least a little bit afraid of the dark, what kid wasn't?, and it frightened him further that the only light he ever saw was when his captors entered and left, with their bland food and tasteless drink. When that light came, it hurt his eyes to see it, for he had become accustomed to only seeing the darkness of the cell. He had begun to be able to make out the corners of the small cell. It was quite a feat for a boy so young.
Yet still, the quiet prodigy of the Takatori clan wept, because somehow he knew no one was coming to save him.
~~"One cannot live for someone, pulling up the love that bloomed in the heart."~~
It was quiet in the darkness of night. No sound disturbed the silence except for the heavy breathing of one trying to conceal sobs, and the barely-there sound of teardrops falling to the floor.
In the corner of the expensive bedroom, Takatori Shuuichi, who would someday be known as Persia, quietly wept for his kidnapped nephew, his favorite nephew, who was only five. His brother Reiji had refused to pay for the ransom, leaving his son to the mercy of those who had stolen him away. Leaving him to the mercy of those who had no mercy.
It was all he could do to keep from paying the ransom himself- selling his things for the money and rescuing his nephew. But he knew he couldn't do that. Since their father's death, Reiji had become the head of the family. To go against him was to be either disowned or killed. Shuuichi figured that Reiji would probably be more likely to turn to the latter, the former being far more lenient than Reiji usually was.
So all he could do was to cry. And pray.
~~"People are small, aren't they? People are hollow, aren't they? Return one day to the heavens."~~
It had been almost three years since his imprisonment in the cell. He stood alone in a room that reminded him dully of that, but had a bit more light, filtered through small windows, one above the sink, the other above the table. The entire kitchen was dirty, the appliances in desperate need of repair. This he saw clearly, with blue eyes that held warmth, but as the days passed, were becoming colder. Those eyes, staring out at the world, that were so much older than his eight-year old body.
He was the nameless one. The one who was lost in the streets until some pervert decided to bring him home and lock him up for a couple of days, to do what they wished with him, then give him some clothes and food, releasing him back onto the streets. Sure, though, there was the occasional nice old lady or, even rarer, genuinely kind person, who would let them into their home for a night, sometimes two, but more often than not, only the perverts let him in. It was surprising how many of them there was, who were willing to take in this scruffy brown-haired boy, even for just a day or two. It was sick.
They would ask his name, sometimes. He had nothing to say.
~~"In the garden of the heavens, everyone smiles, loving the people they were seperated from."~~
"You don't have a name?" The speculative voice echoed in the small chamber, and the boy standing in front of his desk nodded gravely, a grim cold in his icy blue eyes. Takatori Shuuichi guessed that those eyes hadn't always been that cold. "Shall I give you one?"
"If you want." Was the reply. The voice of the fifteen year old boy was quiet, husky, as though not very much used. He stood perfectly straight, his clothes hanging off of him as though a hanger, yet for his size and his thinness, he seemed surprisingly strong. For all that he lacked in physical strengths, he seemed to make up for in mental quickness and agility, his scores on the tests he had been given before advancing to this stage of the interview process had been through the roof, and in the physical tests he had proven himself to be very athetic, thin and fast, and his small size seemed to conceal a much greater power. Shuuichi found himself impressed despite himself.
Shuuichi took a long moment to think, staring into those icy eyes, seeing something elusive there, the shreds of emotions that had been lost long ago. But even more than that, he saw a determination, and knew that he was more than merely a street-kid. In that moment, he was almost sure of who this child was. Maybe he would never tell the boy, but he knew. And in that knowledge, he found a name. A name that would certainly fit the boy, whether he was who he thought or not. A name that would carry on to become the child's own, and perhaps he wouldn't even remember who had given him that name. Perhaps he would. Perhaps he would even forget that the name was not his own. All the possibilities, he knew, would keep him awake late into the night, but at least, for now, he had a name that the child could bear. A name for the nameless boy, who had come to him without an identity, and would leave to become great.
"Your name... your name will be Tsukiyono Omi."
~~"If I could have one small wish come true, it would be for stars to illuminate your darkness."~~
He wore a slight smile, the joke eliciting a tiny laugh from the boy, who sat on his belly on the bed, one leg sticking up in the air, the other having fallen onto the pillow, as he was sitting the wrong way on the bed, his head on his hands, looking up at his roommate and best friend with innocent adoration, the coldness having long since departed from those blue eyes, and the health long since returned to his slim body, though he would always be small, and he would always know the pain of those who were starving, whose bodies ate themselves because they could find no other nourishment, slowly falling to oblivion around them. But now, he was safe and comfortable, in a place where no one could hurt him, just talking, because at the moment it felt good. He didn't have to run anymore. And even if he never remembered how he knew these feelings, those that came from the past that he had long since forgotten, letting the trauma of that time jar him into amnesia. He would wonder about his past, but whenever he thought overmuch about it, he got a terrible headache and had to stop to find the Ibuprofen. Now, though, he was simply smiling, laughing at the small joke that had been told, and feeling completely at ease in the world. His eyes were clear as crystal, and his happiness veritably glowed. There was pain in that gaze, but it was vague, a long-forgotten darkness that he didn't care to dwell on.
"Ken-kun?" He asked slowly, his eyes turning thoughtful as he looked up at his best friend and roommate. "Do you know anything about my past..?"
"No," Ken said, then smiled slightly at his younger friend. "What brings that question on?"
"Oh, nothing.." Omi said softly, smiling. "Nevermind."
~~"People are small, aren't they? People are hollow, aren't they? Return one day to the heavens. Return, return."~~
~owari~