With Wings of My Own
Warning: Drama, yaoi (that's boy on boy for you. Have a problem? There's a bunch of other stories somewhere…just not anywhere near me), mild cursing
Summary: Eight years. It had been eight long years since Daisuke Niwa took a step on his own two feet. But with a dimension-shattering appearance and a soul baring form, he finds the world and himself once more. Gift fic for cheshirecat.
A/N: So…I decided to put all my author stuff around here since I hate reading stories with cliffhangers and then an author note. I mean, it completely ruins the mood. T.T I've been busy with a lot of stuff, and chem. H is killing me. So my parents stole my labtop (took back for an indefinite time, I'd rather say since it sounds better haha), and that leads me to using my brother's computer to type (since they just take away his wireless connection and boom! Instant 1994 computer). So enough about my horribly boring life, and on to the fanfic!
No, I haven't forgotten about Just Twenty Centimeters Away, though it seems like it. I'm just…trying to find the right mood to write. I realized that there are a shitload of fanfictions I owe and thus, this is for you cheshirecat. Enjoy~
Chapter One: Day by Day
Sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious, sometimes awful, never
the same for two months together; almost human in its passions,
almost spiritual in its tenderness, almost Divine in its infinity.
—Bayard Ruskin
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In every childhood memory, there is always a snapshot of a child's first time.
Beyond most people's expectations and comprehensions was of a small, two year old boy reading for the first time.
The mouth twists in every way possible, bending and forming lopsided 'o's. It stretches as wide as it can, greatly exaggerating movements while hoping to mimic others in a clear cut perfection. Sometimes, a bit of drool leaks out, but it's okay. That's what the mother's there for.
Then arrives the tongue. It trips, stumbling over tricky words. In a rush, it tries to catch up with the mouth, but a misplaced chomp leaves tears in place. Occasionally, even disbelief. But that's what's the father laughs at and eventually, the child does the same.
Finally, there are the eyes. Contrary to popular belief, when a person reads, their eyes do not move in a straight line. It pauses, skipping to the right and darting back before repeating the cycle. After a child has read their first book, it sparkles with such innocent clarity that becomes lost over time.
But in Daisuke's case, he never lost that light.
Even as a strong, wiry seven year old, he never stopped dreaming about the first book he had ever read cover to cover. He kept it locked, deep underneath layers and layers of himself that had emerged once exposed to the outside world, but it never really went away. It stayed with him, growing more powerful and shining brighter than any star in the forgotten skies.
Teachers stared, clearly admiring the dreamer within him. Friends smiled, delighted in his imagination. Foes nodded tacitly, accepting him as a worthy rival. Parents stood by, proud of his big hopes and ambition.
But like every life, trapped within a frame and time of its own, there was also a moment where that dream is inconceivably shattered beyond redemption.
For Daisuke Niwa, that moment came when he decided to fly.
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The smell of sour apples hung in the air, mixing in with the aged odor of mothballs. However, it was nothing compared to the overwhelming scent of sickeningly sweet vanilla.
"Excuse me..."
A rather thin, severe looking woman popped a green balloon with her tongue, pulling in the sticky substance back into the hollow pit. The twins stared, widening at the dashes of scarlet the gum had stolen from the blazing cherry lips.
"Uhm, Miss?"
A penciled eyebrow rose inquisitively while the woman sniffed. She demanded, "What do you little brats want?"
The short-haired girl frowned, dropping her jaw in anger. "Why you bit-"
A hand quickly clamped over girl's mouth and the other girl smiled sweetly.
"Why hello there Miss-", she scanned the nametag on the iron board chest, "Manicale. Could we please sign in?"
Miss Manicale stared, beady eyes raking over the girl's outfit. She nodded impassively, though clearly entranced by how the shirt seemed to fit the girl like a second skin, almost as if it had been made just for her.
"And I really must congratulate you on that Tifunky Blaac blouse. It really emphasizes your curves," the girl added, smiling with such vigor, it could've only been honest.
Miss Manicale blinked lightly. "Thank you. Here's the clipboard, though you're a bit short on time. Visiting hours are from 10AM-6PM. Family can stay until 8. You've got half an hour."
Handing the board to the amused girl, then signing her own name with a flourish, she quickly
"Thank you!" the girl replied as she strode off, pulling her sister by the wrist.
As they entered the elevator, the stoic expressions slid off and laughter quickly filled the air.
"Oh wow Risa," the short-haired girl managed to say through giggles. "Suck up much?"
Risa grinned, flipping her long hair back before snapping it back into place. "Only because Miss Manicale's sooo pretty. C'mon Riku. She was totally staring at my clothes."
Riku sighed, though she couldn't help but smile back. "That's because you pay me to tailor your clothes. Lucky for you, I got an A in Home Ec."
A frown made its way to Risa's face and she jutted out the bottom lip, pouting. "Hey! That's not fair. You know I suck at cooking."
"Right you are."
"I could probably blow up a sandwich."
"And turn it into a nuclear bomb while you're at it."
"Yeah! And spaghetti into a chocolate éclair."
"Now that I would eat."
"Meani-"
A sharp ping went off and the girls immediately stopped laughing, a strange expression marring their visage.
They nod sharply at each other and linked arms. As the elevator door opened, a familiar burst of white light shot out and the twins simultaneously raised a hand to shield their eyes.
"Gyah! Turn off the light!" Risa screeched. "Someone turn off the light! I'm going blind!"
A soft chuckle resounded through the room and she heard an apologetic, "Sorry," as the light faded.
"Thanks Daisuke," Risa sighed in relief, smiling at the familiar figure in white. Sitting directly in front window and outlined in a halo, Daisuke looked like an angel.
"You look like a girl," Riku chirped, jerking her head at the hospital gown.
Daisuke frowned. "Gee, thanks. I really needed another jab at my masculinity."
"Or lack thereof."
Messy spikes of scarlet flying everywhere, Daisuke covered his face with pale hands. "Very feminine of you, Riku, to insult a poor, sick guy."
"Because," Riku replied, "I like, totally love my new shoes!"
"Hey!" came the outraged cry.
The two snickered as Risa resumed the infamous pouting face and began 'fixing' Daisuke's wardrobe.
"So," Riku began. "How's the new work of art coming along?"
Daisuke smiled genuinely, eyes lighting up at the mention of art. "Fantastic! You were dead on when you said inspiration can come from anywhere."
A sly grin crept onto her face that could only be Riku. "Well…yeah. I kind of just quoted some dead philosopher's stuff and it made sense."
She cupped her chin, seemingly pondering several ideas. "Come to think of it, dead guys usually are right."
"Oh my god! Is everything you own white?!"
Risa spun around, grinning sheepishly at the blank expressions. "Sorry! Fashion senses…tingling. Must obey!"
"Idiot…senses tingling from over there!" Riku replied, pointing in her sister's general direction.
"Haha, very funny. Now give me that wet thing."
Daisuke stared, aghast at what she had just called his paint brush. "W-wet thing?"
"Yeah. So I can fix your clothes and make you pretty, oh so pretty! Oh so pretty and happy and gay!"
"Uh Risa? I don't think we should make fun of Daisuke's manhood anymore."
"Yeah!" Daisuke eagerly chimed in. "You shouldn't make fun of Daisu-I mean my manhood anymore!"
"Because clearly, it's non-existent."
"Because cle-you little jerk!" he shouted, lunging at Riku. However, the girl was already halfway across the room, dragging her sister by the elbow.
"Well, gotta' go! Big Bang's got a new CD!" Riku sang, launching into fan girl mode. It was both a blessing and a curse how obsessed Riku become over music, the one area both Harada's found common ground on.
"Oh!" Risa reached into her purse, pulling out a small, cloth-laden bag. She threw it, completely missing her target and yet Daisuke still managed to catch it with his fingertips. "Here's some candy, you sugar addict."
Daisuke nodded his thanks, watching the Harada twins argued loudly over Korean music.
"Yeah! I love TOP! He's so handsome and he's like, the best rapper ever!"
"Not really. Tablo's better. And besides, the least attractive albeit better-looking-than-most-people guy in the band's usually the best singer. So Team Daesung!"
"Ew! How could you like th-"
Daisuke thanked whoever invented sound-proof elevators.
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"Daisuke! Mommy's here!"
Daisuke groaned. If she was here, that also meant that was here.
Of course, that meant Miss Towa, the family maid. Naturally, she had a bizarre obsession for all that's categorized in some type of romance called BL. Daisuke had accidentally stumbled into Towa's room before and needless to say, Daisuke never looked at her the same way again.
"Daisuke! How'd my cute, adorable little baby?" Towa cried, hugging him with more force than that tiny little body could've ever mustered.
"Hi Miss Towa…" he gasped.
"Please Daisuke! Call me Towa-chan! Like in Japan," she squealed. "Hey! That rhymed!"
"M'kay. I need to breath…"
"Of course, of course!" Towa fervently agreed, releasing him. "Breathing is essential in the human body you know!"
"Daisuke! Emiko made a cake just for you."
Daisuke smiled. Knowing his mother, it was probably a cake big enough to feed the entire hospital staff.
"What flavor?" he asked.
"Nothing, nothing. Just Strawberry A-"
Hold it steady.
"Strawberry A Cake!" interrupted a deep voice.
"Dad!" he yelled, as a tall, dark-haired man popped into view.
"Daisuke. Sorry I had to leave you alone with these people. Archeology's interesting, but time consuming. Freakin' H. Takes half a year to uncover some dead guy's tomb."
"Oh Kousuke," Emiko frowned. "Just because you're out of country doesn't mean you can't send a postcard."
"Emiko," Kousuke grinned, his eyes twinkling. "If I sent my family a letter, it would've made me miss you guys more. Then I'd have shipped myself on the quickest flight home."
"Oh Kousuke!"
"Emiko!"
"Kousuke!"
"Emiko!"
"Kousuke!"
"Towa!"
Towa smiled. "Now that we've established names, who'd like to cut the cake?"
Daisuke shot an arm into the air. At his parent's approval and with perfect precision, he cut the creamy cake into six even pieces and allowed his father to distribute it.
One. Just take one.
"Mhm, this is delicious," Towa gasped.
Daisuke nodded in agreement. "Takes like…the climax of summer and a child's first taste of Mother Nature."
"Very poetic," Kousuke noted through bites. "You sure you really want to be an artist?"
Scarlet eyes shone playfully as they narrowed at Kousuke. "You sure you're really my father?"
"Hm. With that red hair, it could be debatable."
"Kousuke!" Emiko gaped, slapping her husband on the back. "Don't you dare put any ideas in my son's head."
"Don't you mean our son?"
"Keep going like that and it will be my son."
For Daisuke, visiting hours flew by like the wind. One second, it hit a person with full blast and the next, it had vanished without a trace. Only the memories lingered, and even those began to fade.
But Daisuke took no notice of it.
Instead, he was in the bathroom, his stomach emptying itself of every last morsel of sweetness he had eaten.
Strawberry A Cake my ass, he thought bitterly, acid biting into his throat. Are you just afraid to say Angel?
He felt another feeling pull at his stomach and found himself heaving above the toilet again.
The dull, sickly light hung in the bathroom and as Daisuke flung water at his face, he made the mistake of looking up.
A fragile boy stared back, completely unlike what Daisuke had imagined himself to be.
His originally tanned skin had faded to a frightening pallor, unhealthy in every reasonable way. The once fearless, determined eyes that shone with such valor were replaced by innocent, wide eyes that seemed shallow. A strange, disheartening dullness at the very depths of his eyes made him feel sicker than he thought possible. Even his naturally spiky scarlet hair had begun to droop, as if to reflect on his insides.
Daisuke spat in the sink with disgust and wheeled his way to the bed. His mother had taken a piece of cake home for his grandfather, Daichi. Now, a lone piece of cake sat, almost perfect in the moonlight.
Weak fingers carefully placed the cake on a clothed lap, and suddenly, the curtain dividing his room was flung open.
"Hey," he whispered almost guiltily, eyes flashing with sincere remorse. "It's Daisuke."
A soft laugh escaped his lips, and a pained smile formed. "Well, you'd remember this voice anyways. It annoyed you at first remember? Too happy go-lucky. And more smiling than you had ever seen."
Hands waved about in the air, gesticulating to no one in particular.
"You even compared me to the sun, though you said I was useless. Well, maybe I am."
Without warning, ruby eyes began to smart, and a dangerous glistening sheen formed at the corners.
"Maybe I am all that, and maybe I'm just a weirdo. But at I know one thing for sure."
With a single-minded determination, the cake found itself carefully placed in the middle of the bed, a plastic fork at its left.
He whispered, "I was…more than okay with you," and then a quick, "Happy birthday Satoshi."
Then Daisuke's shoulders began to shake as if he was a young child again, and his mother was scolding him for being too clumsy. Broken promises, fallen hopes, and various bits of feelings scattered about and he fell through the rabbit hole. He cried. One hour. Two hours. Three.
Time was an irrelevant factor and moved on, though it never healed the broken parts within Daisuke's chest. Instead, it seemed that each passing second only shattered it more.
By twilight, the tormented boy had fallen asleep, though his dreams were plagued by memories. A twinge of pain rippled across his visage, and he continued to let out dry, broken sobs.
From the hospital window, the clouds had dispersed. A single beam of moonlight shot through and engulfed Daisuke.
Though it might've been a trick of light, Daisuke's face went completely blank, adorned by a serene look. The silvery light gave his skin somewhat of an ivory glow, and color seemed to rush back until vitality had been returned. However, a moving cloud truncated the effect and the boy fell back into nightmares once more, his face stretching in pure agony.
Outside, the roaring stopped. Street lights froze, trapped in the unknown abyss between red, yellow, and green. No cars honked, no dogs barked, and no person was awake to see something strange.
When Daisuke looked back on this moment, he somehow knew that even if it was noon, or even the middle of rush hour, no one would've been able to witness the mysteries that the unexplored realms had to offer.
Golden autumn leaves rustled slightly as a foot descended, landing neatly on a thin branch. A single leaf broke off, drifting slowly left to right in the air. As it swayed, a hand instinctively shot out in a blur and the leaf vanished.
Iridescent eyes stared at the faded wrinkles, tracing their every vein with long, nimble fingers. Eyebrows furrowed, seemingly flummoxed by how such a small object could have hidden such amazing art.
"Kyuu…"
A smile that could break millions of hearts brightened the sky with its raw intensity. It seemed that the very epitome of love had been concentrated into one very human gesture.
A short flick of the wrist twisted to press a slim digit lightly against perfect lips.
"Not now With," a bass voice murmured. "It's here."
Crimson eyes blinked twice before something wet nuzzled against open skin.
"It's definitely here," he repeated, eyes blazing with full conviction. A hand tapped against the area below the left collarbone. "I can feel it."
At that moment, barely five hundred meters away, a pair of eyes shot open.
Long, mauve hair seemed to fly up as the owner's body dropped down, and With squealed. Without warning, they were airborne. Ebony feathers of all sizes fluttered to the ground, yet somehow never touching it. Instead, it seemed to sink in, a glowing halo wrapped around the edges.
Moonlight shot around the wings, but everything that touched them were absorbed, away and out of the dimension.
Daisuke was asleep, and yet conscious at the same time. He was aware of his body moving, bleary eyes staring vacantly at the cake, at the door, and then around to the wall. However, he could not hear the ethereal melody in the skies though his heart sang along.
"It's strong, With," he announced excitedly. "It's tugging at my heartstrings. I can't…no. I won't resist."
Daisuke felt his body leaning and moving with a strange rhythm. Though he had never heard it before, he followed it perfectly, moving in tune with every beat.
In a moment, longer than any that would ever exist and shorter than possible, scarlet eyes met amethyst ones.
There was no electrical current running down both bodies, no feelings wreaking havoc at their insides, but a simple, reverberating click.
All the chains of events that had been set forth just for this one purpose, this one meeting, fell into place. Every emotion, memory, family, friend, foe, and life itself churned at the inevitable end, and despite that, it was not fate.
It was neither destiny nor fortune. It was something more. Something only willpower and one individual would decide.
Whether it was to abandon all life for this one, fleeting chance, or continue forever and eventually find what he was looking for, it was a choice that he and he alone would make.
It was the night that the legend of the Phantom Thief began.
A/N: My god I've been meaning to get this up in a while. Hopefully, I'll finish it before I start yet another project. xD Reviews please? They're a fanfiction writer's anti-drug...or just plain crack. Aha