*trips over self* whooaaa, hello, guys! Well I wasn't expecting to see YOU there at all. Who am I kidding? I'm on FFN and people are gonna read this. Anyway. It's me, Bean, and I have something to tell you before I get smacked upside the head by Ryuga, so please bear with me.
I am in an angsty mood. There is about to be a WHOOLLLLE lotta angst in this story here. I have no idea if it'll go further than a one-shot, or if it's just the Benadryl in my system washing over me, but there WILL be death and there WILL be sadness and YES, it IS about Ryuga, so if that's what you were hoping for when you read the title and the description - although I don't know what it's gonna be yet - You've come to the right place.
Enjoy the story, don't be bad little worms, and peace out! *Ryuga comes in with a hammer* NO! NO, RYUGA, I SAID PEACE OUT! *crashing sounds ensue* Whelp, there goes the furniture...
Fires blaze in the eyes of men. Around him, shouts ring out. Kenta pays no attention to the dark aura at his back; his eyes are trained on the boy he followed for the past six months, doggedly and certainly, and now on the brink of death.
In his eyes there is nothing but true soul and a promise.
And then he's gone, and the promise is all that remains.
The same dream, every night.
For eight entire months, it's haunted him. On past the date of his 13th birthday, one he'd always dreamed Ryuga would be there to witness. Because once the battle was over - once things were right with the world again - the synergy that encompassed them during their time in the wild could never dissolve; no, that was a thing that nothing could ravish.
Nothing but death.
And death has, indeed, been about some ravishing.
His eyes trace the familiar patterns etched into the plaster above his head. Once there were stars there, marking out constellations, but faith lost doesn't return so easily - when Ryuga left him, he ripped them off savagely with tears burning in his eyes.
Is this dream, every single night - is it Ryuga? Surely it can't come from beyond the grave. Nobody knows what lies beyond it, but Kenta is certain that death holds a firm and constant barrier against communication. Surely, then, it can't be that. It must be Kenta himself. Still grieving, after all this time.
Tsubasa's eyes take in the courtyard beneath him. So many sleepless nights. So much heartache. Trauma. Eagle feels it too.
He perches on the back of the chair near Tsubasa's bed, not his perfect and streamlined figure, but a harried and restless version of himself. His feather stick up at odd angles around the bare patches. He's been preening. When birds preen too much, they lose feathers. Each one of his lost feathers is in a plastic bag in Tsubasa's suitcase.
With a sigh, he slumps down against the windowsill. India is just so hot. And he doesn't know what Ryo wants him to find at all. His fingers strain at his collar until several buttons pop loose, allowing him to breathe once more. He fumbles with the air conditioner box beneath the windowsill. Why do they always have these at hotels? Why never the good, circulating systems? He supposes for so cheap they can't afford much more.
As he turns away from the window, a bright flash catches in the corner of his eye. His face snaps back to the starry sky; the night is clear. Slowly, Tsubasa's tired eyes come into focus, making out the familiar patterns and shapes that compose the constellations. They're burning bright tonight, especially...
That one. Draco. Ryuga's.
Is it all a coincidence? He is starting to think not. Every night, those stars wink at him and bring his attention to him - especially on nights like this.
Conceivably, it could be another spirit, watching out for him from Draco's nest of stars. But Occam's Razor tells him that Ryuga is watching over him. Trying to tell him something.
"What do you need from me?" he whispers softly to the sky. The stars do not answer.
As he curls on the bed once more, futilely chasing sleep, a song seems to float into his ears. Ask him later, and he will not be able to tell you the tune; but it is soft and melodious. The hot air oppressing his skin is seemingly lifted away by the notes.
The tune continues; the stars outside his window grow brighter as the moon sinks; and sleep finds him at last.
The ones he loved
The words still sit alien in his mind.
The ones he...loved
They just don't fit with the way he sees the world below him.
The ones he...loved?
They still don't seem to justify what he felt, back then, when things were so much harder with the weight of their trust on his shoulders, yet he carried it with pride.
The ones I loved.
I loved them.
From Draco's shining nest, he sees the world beneath him turning, through their eyes - the eyes of the ones he loved. He can't return, no matter how hard he tries. However this twisted system got into place, he hates it. All he can see is the misery of the people who miss him.
He just wanted to die in peace.
No, instead, he saw Kenta through Tsubasa's eyes as the boy collapsed on the sidewalk, clawing at the cement. As a tortured scream ripped from his throat to the sky.
He felt Tsubasa's feet pound towards the boy, and felt his anxiety. He heard it thundering in his ears as Kenta screamed his name to the un-sympathising clouds that passed above.
Screamed for him.
He never thought a child would miss him so much, and sometimes he regrets leaving. But other times, alone, when all of their eyes are closed and the sky around him is silent, he knows he would regret it much more if he hadn't chosen to leave this promise with Kenta.
So he does what he can.
He can feel the grief he's causing. He never knew Tsubasa well, but he was sort of a friend in rivalry. He was always there. He regrets that they couldn't have known each other better, that he himself couldn't have been less reclusive. But emotional ties didn't seem relevant to him at the time.
So he does what he can.
He sends through the stars, something, down into the night through the skies of India, and he doesn't know why they still think of him, or if Tsubasa can hear him, but he does what he can.