Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, even if they like to keep me up late at night thinking of this kind of thing. Therefore, I only wish I could be making money off these stories.
Notes: I was inspired by a song by Richard Shindell... to write a different fic. But while I was working on that other fic, this one came to mind, seeing as my brain also was preoccupied by the Halloween costumes I was supposed to be working on instead of writing. So this short fic came about too.
All Hallows
Even after Ginji's sugar high from all the candy had worn off, and he'd finally quieted enough to stretch out in the passenger seat, Ban remained awake. When he was sure Ginji had fallen asleep, he slipped away, taking off from the quiet shelter of the car to take solitary solace in a dark alley. Halloween was not a night during which he liked to sleep. Thanks to his grandmother and Maria, he knew too much about the origins of the holiday.
It wasn't that he was afraid of wandering spirits. In fact, his rational mind combined with his knowledge of the supernatural had kept him from that fear for the better part of his life - when you got right down to it, there was nothing that would cause such an event. Supposing that the veils between worlds (and he did believe in those other worlds, for he'd more than seen the evidence growing up) did in fact thin or even vanish on one specific day each year... what was it about this particular day? Why did it matter where the earth was on its circuit around the sun? It wasn't really as if the world was actually darker at this time of year, as the Celts once believed - it was just the tilt of the axis. Even if it was darker here, it was lighter in the southern hemisphere. And it wasn't a physical location; since the sun itself was spinning through space, rotating on the arms of the galaxy, it wasn't as if the earth would ever be in the same place twice even in his entire lifetime, even if it was in the same position relative to the sun. And if there was no physical or spacial explanation for it on this day, why would it happen only once a year? Why not every hundred days? Why not every weekend?
There was no logic behind the designation of any particular day as a thinning of the veils. Different societies even observed the same thing at different times - that just proved it. And the implications and attitudes towards this idea varied widely from culture to culture as well. Some put out food to welcome the spirits, some dressed in costumes to blend in with the spirits and keep themselves from possession.
Sure, he'd gone along with the modernized versions of some of those old traditions, they weren't hurting anything. In fact, it had gotten them some free food, even if it was all sugar - and although he was usually pretty cynical about the good cheer of holidays, this one was kind of fun. But still, it was a good thing he thought it was a crock.
If anyone had a reason to fear a visit from the souls of the dead, on this night or any other, it was Mido Ban. There were too many spirits on the other side of that veil that he'd sent there himself, and in general, that wasn't something a spirit would be thankful for.
The Halloween rituals involving fire, specifically, varied widely from culture to culture. Some lit candles to guide the spirits' path, or to frighten them away, and then some put out all the fires to make their homes cold and uncomfortable, to discourage the spirits' visit. As he slumped down against the wall, the flint inside Ban's lighter clicked at the familiar touch of his thumb, and a clean butane flame sprung up above the curve of his hand.
Ban was never quite sure what category his own Halloween ritual fell into, whether it was a banishment or a welcome. Either way, he watched the dance of the small flame for a few moments, illuminating his hands in pale orange, and drawing out the contrast of the initials engraved on the metal. And he thought of the initials' owner.
There was no need for forgiveness. He'd done what he needed to do, what he was begged to do. If there was anyone he owed something to over it, it was Himiko - she hadn't understood.
But Yamato? Hah - if anything, Yamato owed him, for making him kill one of his two only friends, and alienate the other. Ban's teasing smirk would have been more sincere if he hadn't known that Yamato would have agreed with him.
There were regrets, though. Of all the people he'd killed, Yamato was the only one to whom he hadn't had the chance to say all that he wanted to say. All that he needed to say, sure - but not all that he'd wanted to say.
The cigarette had been left between his lips, unlit, for quite some time already; after the moment's reflection, he lit it. The smell of the smoke and the glow brought Yamato back to him more readily than any mourner's lit candle would, even on such a night, but Ban snapped the lighter shut again. Even if the flame had drawn his old friend back, Ban wouldn't say the things he'd wanted to say. It was too late for them to be of any use.
Instead, he simply reflected as he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke of Yamato's cigarettes and flame fill his lungs just as the memories of Yamato filled his thoughts. Time passed, in reality and in memory. Good times. Jobs they'd pulled off. Pranks they'd played. The silohuette of him leaning against the window, the melancholy smile as he watched his sister making dinner.
Gasped pleas, the warmth of a frantic heartbeat as he placed his hand on Yamato's chest. The gore on his hands, the gaping wound. Not the look in Himiko's eyes. Never that.
Burned down to the filter, the cigarette went out as Yamato's chin dropped limply against his blood-spattered chest.
It wasn't much of a ritual at all, Ban acknowledged. He'd never really cared for rituals - they tended to be lengthy and melodramatic. But a bit of remembrance was the least he could do, even if there was nothing sacred or particularly useful about it.
If indeed the veils thinned, and Yamato was drawn to him, he wouldn't have been offended as Ban tossed the butt aside as usual, and stood to return to the car where he'd left Ginji. It was just a cigarette. And of all the things Yamato's casual ritual had reminded him of, the most important was that when one found a true friend, they should spend whatever time they were given together.