Against All Odds
Originally sung by Mariah Carey
[How can I just let you walk away
Just let you leave without a trace]
The door slammed behind him, and he viewed his sanctuary with
an air of disgust and dissatisfaction. It seemed, in that moment, that
everything was wrong with it: the desk was crooked, the lamp was
tipped, the chair was in the other corner of the desk, the bed was not
aligned with the corners of the room. Everything was wrong, all wrong.
In a sudden fit of anger and pain and sadness, he slammed his fists
against the door one last time, and crossed the room as fast as he
could, burying his face in the pillow. There, for the first time in
many months, he cried himself to sleep.
Everything was wrong. The whole world had left him. The whole
world was wrong. In that moment, he hated everything and anything
that dared show its face around that corner of the door, and that
included everything. When Omi and Ken came in, he threw the nearest
thing he could find (the lamp) and heard a satisfying crash as it hit
the door in an explosion of fuses, dying sparks, and shards of broken
pottery.
The world hated him. And he hated it right back. He just
didn't care anymore.
[When I stand here taking
Every breath with you]
He had left without a thought, just a tiny note pinned to the
edge of the pillow. Against his wishes, he immediately thought of the
deserter as a 'heartbreaker'. And that he was.
His broken heart lay shattered on the floor. No one came to
claim it or help pick up the pieces of his life, no one was there.
He was alone, now. The only reassurance was that the other
man, the deserter, was also alone. But he could be anywhere, with
another girl or even another guy, alone, and he could be whispering
words that he once whispered to him, and to him alone.
But this hate didn't last. His last thoughts before drifting
into unconsciousness were: Can't let go, even though he's left. Can't
let go of this useless, one-sided love that never should have existed.
He never loved me, but somehow, somehow, I fell for him. I never
knew it was a trick, just that his feelings were sincere. Yet he's
lied, now. Who knows where he is now, what he's doing? And even
though it is totally his fault for deserting me, why do I find myself
forgiving such a traitor?
[You're the only one
Who really knew me at all]
He really was the only one, he thought as the sun shone a
dreary gray down through the window, aimed at his back. He was the
only one I ever gave heart-and-soul to. Who would've known I'd get it
broken just when I actually let someone in? Ironic, isn't it. Now I
know how those girls feel when there's dumped.
Outside the door, 2 boys listened for any noise, any sign that
Youji was still alive. Half-afraid and half-determined to bust through
the door and what they would find inside, they refrained from doing
it. They would give their friend a chance to show himself on his own
will. They could do nothing about this. They were not this man's one-
and-only true love.
"Do you think he's alright in there, Ken?"
The soccer player grimaced and looked back at the younger man.
"Hope so. Somehow Youji doesn't seem like the suicidal type that
jumps off a bridge when Aya's gone, but there are other ways of
suicide...much more fatal and deadly ones. I wish he hadn't left."
Omi looked down at his feet as he crouched there with his
friend. "Stupid Aya!", he said in a fit of anger. "If he hadn't left
so abruptly, Youji wouldn't be in there sulking, wouldn't be in there
crying his heart out, and we wouldn't be here, sitting, waiting for him
to come out. But I guess Aya had his reasons...do you think he hated
being in WeiB? He never said anything, but still."
"No", Ken shrugged. "He never did, but who knows what's going
on in that mind of his? And furthermore, how could he just abandon
Youji like that?"
[How can you just walk away from me
When all I can do is watch you leave]
He could almost see the retreating back, the patch of red hair
with its back to him, the eartails swinging lightly in some light
invisible breeze. He would be wearing his assassin gear, the coat and
holding the sword. But he could tell he wasn't out to kill him. It
was to prove that he was walking away, walking away from them, from
HIM, and it hurt. Aya never looked back in the dream, but Youji knew
he wouldn't. Aya wasn't the type to reminice about the past, and what
might have been. He was the past, the past of Aya's love life, and he
probably would never go down that alleyway of memories again. The door
was sealed, the key thrown, and he was in there, shivering and
huddling at Aya's coldness.
He was alone, for the first time in a long time. It was even
more devastating than Asuka's death; he had never told Asuka. He had
told Aya, or rather Ran had told him. That he loved him. That was
like the last straw for him. The tears came freely. He couldn't seem
to shed all of them, and he could only wait until they were done
falling.
Somehow, he doubted that would ever happen.
['Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain
And even shared the tears]
Where had he been when he cried over Asuka? Nowhere to be
found. Yet he had felt for the little sister his past bore, in a coma,
ready to wake up any second, any single moment of the day, just
waiting for the right words to trigger her consciousness. It was not
that way with Asuka; she was dead, died twice, but did Aya care? No.
If he did, he thought bitterly, it would only be for the dynamics of
the team, which in turn would affect the result for the missions they
went on that supplied his sister's hospital bills. Normally, most
people would purposefully do the worst they could in order to thwart
Aya, but no, he had done his best. To wake Aya-chan up. To make Aya
happy. It was worth it if one of them were happy, and the rest of them
weren't. Laughter was always contagious, no matter how hollow-
sounding, it was still laughter. He had seen Aya emotional, though,
once. It was when they were getting Omi back from his brothers. He
saw those eyes fill with compassion and trust, and he almost wished
that he could give everyone that look, to break the ice.
Omi had cried. Aya had comforted him. They all shared their
tears, knowing that they couldn't be seen, but still, they still had
emotion, still could feel. It did become an obstacle once in a while,
but they all shared their tears. Grudges were still held, after all
those years, and the 4 of them were always there to help bear it. But
Aya's grudge was left alone. No, he didn't want anyone else to bear
it. But they still did. They still knew about Aya-chan, and they all
secretly helped take the burden. But he wasn't there, anymore. No
thank you, no last word, just a simple note with nonsense scribbled on
it. He had moved everything out, except for the furniture and some of
his writing utensils and a few books. He was gone. Wiped from the
face of the Earth, gone from existance.
Still, he wondered if Aya would let him share the tears now.
[You're the only one
Who really knew me at all]
Aya had been the only one who truly understood the depth of his
pain for Asuka. But that had faded. It didn't take him all that long
of a time to get over Asuka. It would take longer for him to get over
Aya/Ran, but he would get over it eventually. Unless Ran came back
before he could get over it. Then he would just fall back into
hopeless love. A one-sided love, this madness that was called love but
he called falling into despair. He had been in love with the most
stony-faced man in the face of existance, cracked the guy's mask for
one might, and had seen a smile grace his face like so many suns. He
had shared everything with Ran, and in turn, Aya listened, and gave
insights as well. It had been a comfortable love, a love that had
little to do with hugs and kisses and all the material stuff. It had
been more of an emotional relationship. They had never *done* it, but
he didn't push it. He liked the relationship right where it was. And
now the little pillar, or rather large pillar was gone from his life,
and he was gone.
He tried to sleep, but the dream would haunt him, and he got
up. Outside of the door there was a tray with food and water, and he
left a note scribbed with "Thanks" on it and ate. His mouth seemed to
move on its own accord; he wasn't paying attention to it. His thoughts
were only of one, and one only. Deserter, traitor, betrayer all fit
him, but somehow he had captured the heart of the only one of them
whose heart could not be captured, and he was now only the result of a
game he played so often, and won. But this time he lost.
[So take a look at me now
Oh there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face]
He got out of his room the day after. It was noon, and the
other boys were having lunch outside, talking in low voices. When he
came in, they fell silent, and for the rest of the meal there was
silence. One of their members was missing. For the first time in a
long time, they had closed the shop themselves, just the 3 of them. It
hurt all of them, but they only focused on him for now. They wanted
to help, he could tell. But they didn't know how. There was nothing
they could do. As he went with them to reopen the shop, he glanced
over at the place that was now vacant, and he could almost see a
phantom-figurelike Aya get up and into the kitchen, where there was a
mug he always used. There was a picture, a crudely drawn picture by
the other 2 boys of Ran and him fighting, and he almost choked on it as
it spun on the rack by an unseen force, and showed the side that said,
"They're going to it head-to-head again?"
He went into the shop, and held back tears. A smile, albeit
fake filled his face, and he flirted with the ladies again. The other
2 saw, and tears of sympathy blurred at their eyes until they had to
smile at the customers, and they fell.
"Oh, it's just my allergies. It's nothing contagious."
A smile, fake, and that was the end of the conversation.
[Take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space]
A void filled him for the next few days. He exhausted himself
by going out every night with another girl, and in the shop, he did the
work that Aya used to do. It kept the thought of Aya out of his mind,
at least kept them at bay until the day was over, and at 2 AM he
staggered home, drunk, but head perfectly clear. He could see every
moment he was the date clearly in his mind, but the girl's face always
turned into Aya, and he dumped every girl that night. At all costs, he
avoided dating redheads.
It was impossible. The night he had a redhead date, he
stumbled home crying, and his head was filled with thoughts of Ran.
[And you coming back to me is against all odds
And that's what I've got to face]
But he clung to the hope. Days, weeks, months passed. No
sign of a certain stoic redhead leader of the assassin team WeiB. He
was gone from the face of the Earth, and Omi had erased all records of
him. There was nothing that could've escaped the young genius' grasp,
but the youngster regretted it now. They had no leads. It was like
looking for a needle in a haystack. Not many people would know of a
Japanese with blood-colored hair and amethyst eyes, but they could not
go around to every town in Japan and ask for him. Furthermore, they
had not received any missions from Manx, and they could not contact
Kritiker.
He just about gave up.
[I wish I could just make you turn around
Turn around and see me cry]
He went back into Asuka and his business: private
investigators, or P.I.. It gave him a fresh stab of pain whenever he
picked up the phone and the first question was "Where's Asuka?". But
it was a prod in the other direction, away from thoughts of him, of the
redhead that still haunted his dreams every night. The bleeding from
the wound had begun to slow, but the throbbing continued, the sound of
Ran's heartbeat from those nights before still followed him, and he
would double over with heartache. No, there was no reprieve from the
wound that slashed so deeply. There was no cure, except for Time.
There were things that Time couldn't cure, exceptions that the rules
allowed.
He hoped this was not one of them, or else he would be crying
at night for the rest of his life.
[There's so much I need to say to you]
Sometimes he wondered what he would say if he ever met up with
Aya again. Would he slap him, would he hug him, or would he do both
and break down, crying? He would dream of all 3, sometimes at night.
Aya was never totally gone from his dreams and his memories; even if
the dream was on some past date from some other time before the
separation, he would always be able to turn around in his dream and
somewhere in the room, he would see a patch of red, and run.
Sometimes he ran for a time that seemed forever, and when he
woke up, he would remember every crack of the twigs that he stepped on,
every branch that whipped against his face, every leaf that razored
against his cheek and forehead. Then he would always come into a
clearing in the forest, and he would see Aya, run to him, and cry. The
dream Aya would set him down, look at him blankly, and turn. He
would cry out then, and try to stand, only to find Aya had stabbed his
legs. He couldn't move, until Aya was completely from sight.
The words were varied, as well. There were many questions, and
it seemed in every dream, they were different.
[So many reasons why]
"Aya, where are you going?"
"Aya, why did you leave me?"
"Aya, why did you leave us?"
"Where is this place you're going to?"
"Can I come with you? I don't want to be alone."
"Aya, where did I go wrong? Was it my fault?"
"Did I do something to make you hate me?"
"Why do you hate me now, Aya? What did I do to deserve this?"
"Aya, I love you. But do you still love me?"
"Aya, do you still love me...?"
[You're the only one
Who really knew me at all]
"Stop!", he screamed at the blank, unfeeling walls one day. He
suddenly found himself unable to look at those walls and not think of
the blank violet eyes he had seen in his dreams. He desperately hung
up the plaques that he had only taken down the other day, showing their
eligibility of service. There were PhD plaques, Master degrees,
college graduation scrolls, and he tacked up more. He filled the wall
behind the desk with all papers that had to do with the research found
and the things he had yet to determine that the customer had given him.
It gave him more access to everything he had, but somehow, everyday
as he cleaned up the office, he could almost feel the walls were
laughing at him. And it would sound like Aya's voice, the only voice
that could pierce through all of his shields at once, and make him
smile for a long while. They would talk, and talk, and talk, quiet
voices in the night so dark, about everything, anything, and nothing.
Some of it was nonsense. Some of it actually made sense. But he gave
it all away. All away for nothing.
[So take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face]
"My name is Tamiko...Tachibana Tamiko."
The words changed his life. He couldn't shake off the feeling
that he had somehow known this person before. It happened the first
date they were on. It was so similar. He had invited Ran out for just
a regular dinner when he saw the waitress, and started to flirt with
her. Angry, Aya stormed from the table that instant, and fled out the
door. But he had a firm grip on Aya, and the seething Aya had grumbled
but sat down, glaring daggers. But he flashed a triumphant smile at
Aya when the waitress asked when they could go out.
"Oh, but I am going out right now. This is my boyfriend, Aya
Fujimiya" were his exact words. The waitress, shocked, had walked off
immediately. Ran had tried to sneak a smile past him at that moment,
but he knew what was going on, and tipped Ran's face up towards his,
and they kissed.
Tamiko only stormed out after he was done flirting with the
waitress. He liked her, liked her alot. She didn't giggle like the
other girls he had dated before. She was bold, defiant in her own way,
as if she were trying to keep all opinions inside and thinking all of
them out before she spoke in her soft, quiet voice he knew could rise
and drive to anger. He had seen it only once, but he had made sure
that he didn't get on her bad side.
It reminded him of Aya. In every aspect and every viewpoint,
Tamiko was so alike Aya that it was uncanny. Except for the fact that
Tamiko was a girl, and Aya had been a guy.
Had been. Not anymore?, the sarcastic voice in his head
said.
How should I know? How should I know if he's somehow cloned
into a girl's body, how should I know if he still has red hair and
violet eyes? After all, the only picture I have of him is in my head,
and that was from yesterday, which was a long time ago.
How should I know if he still loves me?
[Take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space]
The void was still there, after so many months. But it was
being secretly filled by Tamiko. Still, he didn't know who her parents
were, didn't meet them, and didn't ask, but he figured it would all
come in due time. Tamiko was mysterious, with a shadowed past that she
gave absolutely no hints on what happened there, but there were
different things. Her eyes weren't violet, but they were still
strangely inticing, just like Aya's were. The name brought a dull
throb to his heart, but he focused on the future, now. Aya was
starting to become a thing of the past, and even though he didn't quite
let go just yet, he did have a life to live, and he was living it to
the fullest that he could in his heartbroken state.
[But to wait for you is
All I can do
And that's what I've got to face]
Sometimes he still asked himself if he should wait. After all,
Aya had waited for him, though it was only a day, but he was surprised
the stony-faced leader had any patience at all. But he knew those
were fake words. He knew Aya had patience, and a lot of it. After
all, one had to have a good amount of patience when hunting Takatori,
correct? But all the same, he knew he couldn't have waited forever.
His heart had made up his mind for him. It told him not to wait. He
couldn't wait anymore, anyways. Hadn't he waited for almost half a
year? It should have been long enough for a word from him to come in,
but nothing had happened. He was now fully out and ready for Tamiko,
and nothing could stop him from taking her hand, but still, shadows
held him back. Or more specifically, shadows of Aya.
[Take a good look at me now
'Cause I'll still be standing here]
He stood up in the cafe, smiling at Tamiko. Tamiko shyly
returned the gesture, and told him to get in line. He had been in a
good mood, since it was the first time he hadn't had Aya appear in a
dream since the last half year. He looked back at Tamiko, and took
pity on her and gave her a peck on the cheek. She visibly flushed, and
he took off the light jacket he had donned for the weather. It was
spring, now, the air still crisp and clear, but with a sense of mellow-
ness to it. He was just enjoying the weather and the sense of freedom
when Tamiko tugged at his sleeve and pointed to the list she had
composed of the things to buy. He read them off to her again, one by
one, gave her another peck on the cheek, this time on the other side,
turned, and stopped.
There, in the bustling lines, was a patch of red hair.
Instantly he gave a yelp of horror and surprise, and backed
into the table, knocking it over. He looked at the patch of red hair
like it was the most murderous sight he had ever seen, then tore his
eyes away and robotically helped Tamiko from the floor. She was shaken
at his outburst, and finally when she asked him what had made him
topple the table, he looked at her beseechingly and stared back and
forth from her to the red hair that stood out in the crowd. She handed
him the sheet with the food on it, and he stumbled his way into line.
He didn't see Tamiko's face turn white with unspoken fear.
[And you coming back to me is against all odds
That's the chance I've got to take]
He took the food from the cashier, paid for it, and made his
way back to the table where Tamiko was staring out the window. He put
the food on the table quietly, not wanting to disturb her from her
thinking. He realized with a start that the drinks had no straws, and
he wiggled his way to the section labeled "Condiments". He took 2
straws, but when he looked up he was met by a pair of violet eyes
through the throng of people. He gasped, the straws gripped tightly in
his hand, when a crowd of people passed. After that, there was empty
space. No violet eyes, no mop of red hair, no tall figure with
porcelein skin. The spot didn't have anyone there.
No Aya. So why did he feel sad?
[Take a look at me now]
As he made his way back to Tamiko and his table, he poked the
straws in, but he felt that someone was watching. It was the same type
of feeling that he used to get from Aya watching him, when the eyes
bored into him with a ferosity that couldn't be matched. It was
intense, piercing, and he felt exposed like he was x-rayed whenever
that occured. It was like deja-vu, now. He quickly turned and looked
back, but there was no one there, no one looking. He turned back to
Tamiko, and smiling, began to chat with her.
"So, are you free next Wednesday?"
"Sure."
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
Takes place in my timeline, the timeline with "Let's Call It A
Day", "Letters", and "Split Identity". I wrote it to make up for the
time between "Let's Call It A Day" and "Split Identity", focusing on
Youji and his problems getting over Aya. Later I think I will write a
fic to explain where Aya went, but I currently have absolutely no
ideas and am focusing on the "Emotion, Masked/Unmasked" series, so I
don't really have much other to do. I still need to rewrite parts of
"Emotion, Masked" because I skimmed so lightly over it. Well, if
you're still reading this, you must be pretty desperate for something
to read, because this songfic is the LONGEST songfic I've ever written
or ever seen. Well, ja for now. All you students out there, get some
good rest over the course of the summer. You'll need it for whatever
upcoming grade you're promoted into.
Andrea Weiling
Originally sung by Mariah Carey
[How can I just let you walk away
Just let you leave without a trace]
The door slammed behind him, and he viewed his sanctuary with
an air of disgust and dissatisfaction. It seemed, in that moment, that
everything was wrong with it: the desk was crooked, the lamp was
tipped, the chair was in the other corner of the desk, the bed was not
aligned with the corners of the room. Everything was wrong, all wrong.
In a sudden fit of anger and pain and sadness, he slammed his fists
against the door one last time, and crossed the room as fast as he
could, burying his face in the pillow. There, for the first time in
many months, he cried himself to sleep.
Everything was wrong. The whole world had left him. The whole
world was wrong. In that moment, he hated everything and anything
that dared show its face around that corner of the door, and that
included everything. When Omi and Ken came in, he threw the nearest
thing he could find (the lamp) and heard a satisfying crash as it hit
the door in an explosion of fuses, dying sparks, and shards of broken
pottery.
The world hated him. And he hated it right back. He just
didn't care anymore.
[When I stand here taking
Every breath with you]
He had left without a thought, just a tiny note pinned to the
edge of the pillow. Against his wishes, he immediately thought of the
deserter as a 'heartbreaker'. And that he was.
His broken heart lay shattered on the floor. No one came to
claim it or help pick up the pieces of his life, no one was there.
He was alone, now. The only reassurance was that the other
man, the deserter, was also alone. But he could be anywhere, with
another girl or even another guy, alone, and he could be whispering
words that he once whispered to him, and to him alone.
But this hate didn't last. His last thoughts before drifting
into unconsciousness were: Can't let go, even though he's left. Can't
let go of this useless, one-sided love that never should have existed.
He never loved me, but somehow, somehow, I fell for him. I never
knew it was a trick, just that his feelings were sincere. Yet he's
lied, now. Who knows where he is now, what he's doing? And even
though it is totally his fault for deserting me, why do I find myself
forgiving such a traitor?
[You're the only one
Who really knew me at all]
He really was the only one, he thought as the sun shone a
dreary gray down through the window, aimed at his back. He was the
only one I ever gave heart-and-soul to. Who would've known I'd get it
broken just when I actually let someone in? Ironic, isn't it. Now I
know how those girls feel when there's dumped.
Outside the door, 2 boys listened for any noise, any sign that
Youji was still alive. Half-afraid and half-determined to bust through
the door and what they would find inside, they refrained from doing
it. They would give their friend a chance to show himself on his own
will. They could do nothing about this. They were not this man's one-
and-only true love.
"Do you think he's alright in there, Ken?"
The soccer player grimaced and looked back at the younger man.
"Hope so. Somehow Youji doesn't seem like the suicidal type that
jumps off a bridge when Aya's gone, but there are other ways of
suicide...much more fatal and deadly ones. I wish he hadn't left."
Omi looked down at his feet as he crouched there with his
friend. "Stupid Aya!", he said in a fit of anger. "If he hadn't left
so abruptly, Youji wouldn't be in there sulking, wouldn't be in there
crying his heart out, and we wouldn't be here, sitting, waiting for him
to come out. But I guess Aya had his reasons...do you think he hated
being in WeiB? He never said anything, but still."
"No", Ken shrugged. "He never did, but who knows what's going
on in that mind of his? And furthermore, how could he just abandon
Youji like that?"
[How can you just walk away from me
When all I can do is watch you leave]
He could almost see the retreating back, the patch of red hair
with its back to him, the eartails swinging lightly in some light
invisible breeze. He would be wearing his assassin gear, the coat and
holding the sword. But he could tell he wasn't out to kill him. It
was to prove that he was walking away, walking away from them, from
HIM, and it hurt. Aya never looked back in the dream, but Youji knew
he wouldn't. Aya wasn't the type to reminice about the past, and what
might have been. He was the past, the past of Aya's love life, and he
probably would never go down that alleyway of memories again. The door
was sealed, the key thrown, and he was in there, shivering and
huddling at Aya's coldness.
He was alone, for the first time in a long time. It was even
more devastating than Asuka's death; he had never told Asuka. He had
told Aya, or rather Ran had told him. That he loved him. That was
like the last straw for him. The tears came freely. He couldn't seem
to shed all of them, and he could only wait until they were done
falling.
Somehow, he doubted that would ever happen.
['Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain
And even shared the tears]
Where had he been when he cried over Asuka? Nowhere to be
found. Yet he had felt for the little sister his past bore, in a coma,
ready to wake up any second, any single moment of the day, just
waiting for the right words to trigger her consciousness. It was not
that way with Asuka; she was dead, died twice, but did Aya care? No.
If he did, he thought bitterly, it would only be for the dynamics of
the team, which in turn would affect the result for the missions they
went on that supplied his sister's hospital bills. Normally, most
people would purposefully do the worst they could in order to thwart
Aya, but no, he had done his best. To wake Aya-chan up. To make Aya
happy. It was worth it if one of them were happy, and the rest of them
weren't. Laughter was always contagious, no matter how hollow-
sounding, it was still laughter. He had seen Aya emotional, though,
once. It was when they were getting Omi back from his brothers. He
saw those eyes fill with compassion and trust, and he almost wished
that he could give everyone that look, to break the ice.
Omi had cried. Aya had comforted him. They all shared their
tears, knowing that they couldn't be seen, but still, they still had
emotion, still could feel. It did become an obstacle once in a while,
but they all shared their tears. Grudges were still held, after all
those years, and the 4 of them were always there to help bear it. But
Aya's grudge was left alone. No, he didn't want anyone else to bear
it. But they still did. They still knew about Aya-chan, and they all
secretly helped take the burden. But he wasn't there, anymore. No
thank you, no last word, just a simple note with nonsense scribbled on
it. He had moved everything out, except for the furniture and some of
his writing utensils and a few books. He was gone. Wiped from the
face of the Earth, gone from existance.
Still, he wondered if Aya would let him share the tears now.
[You're the only one
Who really knew me at all]
Aya had been the only one who truly understood the depth of his
pain for Asuka. But that had faded. It didn't take him all that long
of a time to get over Asuka. It would take longer for him to get over
Aya/Ran, but he would get over it eventually. Unless Ran came back
before he could get over it. Then he would just fall back into
hopeless love. A one-sided love, this madness that was called love but
he called falling into despair. He had been in love with the most
stony-faced man in the face of existance, cracked the guy's mask for
one might, and had seen a smile grace his face like so many suns. He
had shared everything with Ran, and in turn, Aya listened, and gave
insights as well. It had been a comfortable love, a love that had
little to do with hugs and kisses and all the material stuff. It had
been more of an emotional relationship. They had never *done* it, but
he didn't push it. He liked the relationship right where it was. And
now the little pillar, or rather large pillar was gone from his life,
and he was gone.
He tried to sleep, but the dream would haunt him, and he got
up. Outside of the door there was a tray with food and water, and he
left a note scribbed with "Thanks" on it and ate. His mouth seemed to
move on its own accord; he wasn't paying attention to it. His thoughts
were only of one, and one only. Deserter, traitor, betrayer all fit
him, but somehow he had captured the heart of the only one of them
whose heart could not be captured, and he was now only the result of a
game he played so often, and won. But this time he lost.
[So take a look at me now
Oh there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face]
He got out of his room the day after. It was noon, and the
other boys were having lunch outside, talking in low voices. When he
came in, they fell silent, and for the rest of the meal there was
silence. One of their members was missing. For the first time in a
long time, they had closed the shop themselves, just the 3 of them. It
hurt all of them, but they only focused on him for now. They wanted
to help, he could tell. But they didn't know how. There was nothing
they could do. As he went with them to reopen the shop, he glanced
over at the place that was now vacant, and he could almost see a
phantom-figurelike Aya get up and into the kitchen, where there was a
mug he always used. There was a picture, a crudely drawn picture by
the other 2 boys of Ran and him fighting, and he almost choked on it as
it spun on the rack by an unseen force, and showed the side that said,
"They're going to it head-to-head again?"
He went into the shop, and held back tears. A smile, albeit
fake filled his face, and he flirted with the ladies again. The other
2 saw, and tears of sympathy blurred at their eyes until they had to
smile at the customers, and they fell.
"Oh, it's just my allergies. It's nothing contagious."
A smile, fake, and that was the end of the conversation.
[Take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space]
A void filled him for the next few days. He exhausted himself
by going out every night with another girl, and in the shop, he did the
work that Aya used to do. It kept the thought of Aya out of his mind,
at least kept them at bay until the day was over, and at 2 AM he
staggered home, drunk, but head perfectly clear. He could see every
moment he was the date clearly in his mind, but the girl's face always
turned into Aya, and he dumped every girl that night. At all costs, he
avoided dating redheads.
It was impossible. The night he had a redhead date, he
stumbled home crying, and his head was filled with thoughts of Ran.
[And you coming back to me is against all odds
And that's what I've got to face]
But he clung to the hope. Days, weeks, months passed. No
sign of a certain stoic redhead leader of the assassin team WeiB. He
was gone from the face of the Earth, and Omi had erased all records of
him. There was nothing that could've escaped the young genius' grasp,
but the youngster regretted it now. They had no leads. It was like
looking for a needle in a haystack. Not many people would know of a
Japanese with blood-colored hair and amethyst eyes, but they could not
go around to every town in Japan and ask for him. Furthermore, they
had not received any missions from Manx, and they could not contact
Kritiker.
He just about gave up.
[I wish I could just make you turn around
Turn around and see me cry]
He went back into Asuka and his business: private
investigators, or P.I.. It gave him a fresh stab of pain whenever he
picked up the phone and the first question was "Where's Asuka?". But
it was a prod in the other direction, away from thoughts of him, of the
redhead that still haunted his dreams every night. The bleeding from
the wound had begun to slow, but the throbbing continued, the sound of
Ran's heartbeat from those nights before still followed him, and he
would double over with heartache. No, there was no reprieve from the
wound that slashed so deeply. There was no cure, except for Time.
There were things that Time couldn't cure, exceptions that the rules
allowed.
He hoped this was not one of them, or else he would be crying
at night for the rest of his life.
[There's so much I need to say to you]
Sometimes he wondered what he would say if he ever met up with
Aya again. Would he slap him, would he hug him, or would he do both
and break down, crying? He would dream of all 3, sometimes at night.
Aya was never totally gone from his dreams and his memories; even if
the dream was on some past date from some other time before the
separation, he would always be able to turn around in his dream and
somewhere in the room, he would see a patch of red, and run.
Sometimes he ran for a time that seemed forever, and when he
woke up, he would remember every crack of the twigs that he stepped on,
every branch that whipped against his face, every leaf that razored
against his cheek and forehead. Then he would always come into a
clearing in the forest, and he would see Aya, run to him, and cry. The
dream Aya would set him down, look at him blankly, and turn. He
would cry out then, and try to stand, only to find Aya had stabbed his
legs. He couldn't move, until Aya was completely from sight.
The words were varied, as well. There were many questions, and
it seemed in every dream, they were different.
[So many reasons why]
"Aya, where are you going?"
"Aya, why did you leave me?"
"Aya, why did you leave us?"
"Where is this place you're going to?"
"Can I come with you? I don't want to be alone."
"Aya, where did I go wrong? Was it my fault?"
"Did I do something to make you hate me?"
"Why do you hate me now, Aya? What did I do to deserve this?"
"Aya, I love you. But do you still love me?"
"Aya, do you still love me...?"
[You're the only one
Who really knew me at all]
"Stop!", he screamed at the blank, unfeeling walls one day. He
suddenly found himself unable to look at those walls and not think of
the blank violet eyes he had seen in his dreams. He desperately hung
up the plaques that he had only taken down the other day, showing their
eligibility of service. There were PhD plaques, Master degrees,
college graduation scrolls, and he tacked up more. He filled the wall
behind the desk with all papers that had to do with the research found
and the things he had yet to determine that the customer had given him.
It gave him more access to everything he had, but somehow, everyday
as he cleaned up the office, he could almost feel the walls were
laughing at him. And it would sound like Aya's voice, the only voice
that could pierce through all of his shields at once, and make him
smile for a long while. They would talk, and talk, and talk, quiet
voices in the night so dark, about everything, anything, and nothing.
Some of it was nonsense. Some of it actually made sense. But he gave
it all away. All away for nothing.
[So take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face]
"My name is Tamiko...Tachibana Tamiko."
The words changed his life. He couldn't shake off the feeling
that he had somehow known this person before. It happened the first
date they were on. It was so similar. He had invited Ran out for just
a regular dinner when he saw the waitress, and started to flirt with
her. Angry, Aya stormed from the table that instant, and fled out the
door. But he had a firm grip on Aya, and the seething Aya had grumbled
but sat down, glaring daggers. But he flashed a triumphant smile at
Aya when the waitress asked when they could go out.
"Oh, but I am going out right now. This is my boyfriend, Aya
Fujimiya" were his exact words. The waitress, shocked, had walked off
immediately. Ran had tried to sneak a smile past him at that moment,
but he knew what was going on, and tipped Ran's face up towards his,
and they kissed.
Tamiko only stormed out after he was done flirting with the
waitress. He liked her, liked her alot. She didn't giggle like the
other girls he had dated before. She was bold, defiant in her own way,
as if she were trying to keep all opinions inside and thinking all of
them out before she spoke in her soft, quiet voice he knew could rise
and drive to anger. He had seen it only once, but he had made sure
that he didn't get on her bad side.
It reminded him of Aya. In every aspect and every viewpoint,
Tamiko was so alike Aya that it was uncanny. Except for the fact that
Tamiko was a girl, and Aya had been a guy.
Had been. Not anymore?, the sarcastic voice in his head
said.
How should I know? How should I know if he's somehow cloned
into a girl's body, how should I know if he still has red hair and
violet eyes? After all, the only picture I have of him is in my head,
and that was from yesterday, which was a long time ago.
How should I know if he still loves me?
[Take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space]
The void was still there, after so many months. But it was
being secretly filled by Tamiko. Still, he didn't know who her parents
were, didn't meet them, and didn't ask, but he figured it would all
come in due time. Tamiko was mysterious, with a shadowed past that she
gave absolutely no hints on what happened there, but there were
different things. Her eyes weren't violet, but they were still
strangely inticing, just like Aya's were. The name brought a dull
throb to his heart, but he focused on the future, now. Aya was
starting to become a thing of the past, and even though he didn't quite
let go just yet, he did have a life to live, and he was living it to
the fullest that he could in his heartbroken state.
[But to wait for you is
All I can do
And that's what I've got to face]
Sometimes he still asked himself if he should wait. After all,
Aya had waited for him, though it was only a day, but he was surprised
the stony-faced leader had any patience at all. But he knew those
were fake words. He knew Aya had patience, and a lot of it. After
all, one had to have a good amount of patience when hunting Takatori,
correct? But all the same, he knew he couldn't have waited forever.
His heart had made up his mind for him. It told him not to wait. He
couldn't wait anymore, anyways. Hadn't he waited for almost half a
year? It should have been long enough for a word from him to come in,
but nothing had happened. He was now fully out and ready for Tamiko,
and nothing could stop him from taking her hand, but still, shadows
held him back. Or more specifically, shadows of Aya.
[Take a good look at me now
'Cause I'll still be standing here]
He stood up in the cafe, smiling at Tamiko. Tamiko shyly
returned the gesture, and told him to get in line. He had been in a
good mood, since it was the first time he hadn't had Aya appear in a
dream since the last half year. He looked back at Tamiko, and took
pity on her and gave her a peck on the cheek. She visibly flushed, and
he took off the light jacket he had donned for the weather. It was
spring, now, the air still crisp and clear, but with a sense of mellow-
ness to it. He was just enjoying the weather and the sense of freedom
when Tamiko tugged at his sleeve and pointed to the list she had
composed of the things to buy. He read them off to her again, one by
one, gave her another peck on the cheek, this time on the other side,
turned, and stopped.
There, in the bustling lines, was a patch of red hair.
Instantly he gave a yelp of horror and surprise, and backed
into the table, knocking it over. He looked at the patch of red hair
like it was the most murderous sight he had ever seen, then tore his
eyes away and robotically helped Tamiko from the floor. She was shaken
at his outburst, and finally when she asked him what had made him
topple the table, he looked at her beseechingly and stared back and
forth from her to the red hair that stood out in the crowd. She handed
him the sheet with the food on it, and he stumbled his way into line.
He didn't see Tamiko's face turn white with unspoken fear.
[And you coming back to me is against all odds
That's the chance I've got to take]
He took the food from the cashier, paid for it, and made his
way back to the table where Tamiko was staring out the window. He put
the food on the table quietly, not wanting to disturb her from her
thinking. He realized with a start that the drinks had no straws, and
he wiggled his way to the section labeled "Condiments". He took 2
straws, but when he looked up he was met by a pair of violet eyes
through the throng of people. He gasped, the straws gripped tightly in
his hand, when a crowd of people passed. After that, there was empty
space. No violet eyes, no mop of red hair, no tall figure with
porcelein skin. The spot didn't have anyone there.
No Aya. So why did he feel sad?
[Take a look at me now]
As he made his way back to Tamiko and his table, he poked the
straws in, but he felt that someone was watching. It was the same type
of feeling that he used to get from Aya watching him, when the eyes
bored into him with a ferosity that couldn't be matched. It was
intense, piercing, and he felt exposed like he was x-rayed whenever
that occured. It was like deja-vu, now. He quickly turned and looked
back, but there was no one there, no one looking. He turned back to
Tamiko, and smiling, began to chat with her.
"So, are you free next Wednesday?"
"Sure."
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
Takes place in my timeline, the timeline with "Let's Call It A
Day", "Letters", and "Split Identity". I wrote it to make up for the
time between "Let's Call It A Day" and "Split Identity", focusing on
Youji and his problems getting over Aya. Later I think I will write a
fic to explain where Aya went, but I currently have absolutely no
ideas and am focusing on the "Emotion, Masked/Unmasked" series, so I
don't really have much other to do. I still need to rewrite parts of
"Emotion, Masked" because I skimmed so lightly over it. Well, if
you're still reading this, you must be pretty desperate for something
to read, because this songfic is the LONGEST songfic I've ever written
or ever seen. Well, ja for now. All you students out there, get some
good rest over the course of the summer. You'll need it for whatever
upcoming grade you're promoted into.
Andrea Weiling