: (Repetition.)
1. sketches
T: This idea savaged me while I was at work and though I'm not too sure where I'm going with this I can promise that you won't be bored! Warnings of angst and slash…my usual cocktail in other words! Set 16 yrs after the collapse of the Rainbow Bridge and following my own conclusion to the battle between the Kamui's
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The last he had truly been one with himself…truly been Subaru rather than Sakurazukamori…had been the moment before his world had turned inside out.
He can recall the burning anger that had been in his heart that day…can recall the chill of the air and how very warm his hand had felt as it had wrapped about his own.
The anger had mixed with desire then…desire both for this other and for the fulfilment of his darkest, truest, want.
They had fought, such was inevitable always now when they come together, yet this time had been different.
He had known it as he had felt illusionary branches cease about his skin and wishing strongly now for a conclusion he had broken this bind.
He recalls jumping, recalls the whistle of the wind in his ears and the sudden sharp certainty that this was it.
Hand had torn flesh and about them the Keki had crumbled.
For a brief moment he had believed his wish fulfilled…believed himself on the edge of death and then, slowly, he had registered the location of his hand.
After that he recalls only the bitter sweat scent of the other and those final, terrible, words before he had drifted into oblivion.
He knows, somewhere in the heart of him, that he lingered to talk to Kamui…lingered long enough in hopes of stopping the boy from making his mistakes and then…
He believes that he wondered aimless from landmark to landmark, searching for one he had not then believe dead and yet even of this he can not be certain.
For all that came before the garden and that final gift has long since faded from his memory, the importance of that time between selves having faded over the years.
Indeed less he is in the mood to dwell he does not think much now on his time as Sakurazukamori within those final days of The Year of Destiny.
For thinking of those times leads always to the thought of their conclusion.
He had moved about a great deal after that conclusion, returning to Tokyo only to replenish the tree before he had moved on again.
He had pretended to be someone else in those other places, enjoyed the freedom of this anonymity…the detachment.
Sometimes he had caught himself doodling inverse pentagrams into the margins of newspapers or onto napkins in restaurants.
He had learned that this was a sign that he had lingered too long in one place…that he had settled enough into his new routine that he had begun to dwell.
There had been one occasion when he had caught himself with a knife held over the skin of the back of his left hand, the significance of this shaking him enough that he had left the continent all together.
A little after that his new life and his old had crossed and he had been forced to expose himself, at last, to the woman who had once been his grandmother.
There had been recognition deep within her eyes and yet externally she had treated him simply as stranger…no, not stranger, but rather, enemy.
He had known then that he could never return, that he was now as he was and that had been when he had truly stopped caring… when he had finally given himself over completely to the emotionless of the Sakurazukamori.
He had moved less, after that and though sometimes he would catch himself etching that shape still onto an available surface, the act had now lost its significance.
He began, again, to familiarise himself with the odd complexity that was Tokyo…with the two faces of that city.
The bright vibrant face that it showed always in the daylight; the edge of Tokyo that lived as a heartbeat, constant and strong, its rhythm increasing on occasion, perhaps even one day stopping entirely.
The murky, depressive face that it showed only in the moonlight; the edge of Tokyo that was as a shadow, hidden and skulking, it's path silent always until it struck in a blinding scream and all became crimson.
Once, far too long ago, he had existed in the sunlight of Tokyo, unaware of how lucky he was to exist within that vibrancy.
Now…now he was the shadows and though he had attempted to fit himself back into Tokyo's other world he knew he could never do as such again…knew that it would never be anything other than pretend.
Despite this he could not deny the want to be in the sunlight, to maintain the pretence that he belonged there.
Illusion was an art that he had perfected over the years and yet it had not become the thing he was best at…no that honour was reserved for his ability to seduce whoever he wished with an unstoppable certainty.
He had no confidence in the notion that he was attractive and this disregard for his beauty, combined with the edge of the exotic that his eyes gave him, was as a draw.
It was as a game to him now; a game to seduce his intended victims with his beauty and make them believe that he cared, make them drop their guard, before he struck.
He knew, of course, that this was precisely how he had treated him, yet he could not now bring himself to care.
Today he was dressed in a deep charcoal suit, purchased specifically for this target and tailored so well that it fit him almost as a second skin.
The man he was hunting was sat two tables across from him and he knew that already he was gaining an interest from the man.
Smiling to himself he gestured the waitress over and making two requests of her he settled back to watch the show.
The gentleman he was watching…Maki Hichigo, he recalled belatedly…seemed a little flustered when the waitress brought him over a bottle of their most expensive wine, this embarrassment fading as she gestured over to his table.
Maki-san pours himself a glass, tips it in his direction and then points to the empty seat at his table.
He takes the offer a settling into the empty chair he says,
"Thank you for the invite."
"After such a gift how could I not invite you over?" He smiles and says, "I am Maki Hichigo."
"Sakurazuka Subaru." He replies, his face falling into a kindly and slightly enticing smile.
"I have seen you here a few times before, have I not?"
"Indeed you have. I stumbled upon this place once after work and I have never looked back since."
"What enticed you to come back? For me it was their divine pastries."
"For me it was their coffee, no where else can get it quite as bitter as they can."
Maki-san seems to find something amusing in this statement for he breaks into laughter, his stance relaxing as he does as such.
The next question the man poses is a more casual one and he takes his cue from this, relaxing his manner and responding to Maki-san's questions with a false honesty that draws the man in.
Maki-san soon finds confidence and places a causal hand to his knee before leaning forwards and posing a very personal question.
He is about to reply to the positive when his eyes spot a figure passing by the café window.
It is a boy of no more than 16, nothing remarkable about him apart from the startling resemblance he holds to him.
His throat dries and he apologises the best he can to Maki-san before he dashes out onto the street.
The boy is only a little before him and a plan working swiftly in his mind he leaps up onto the rooftops.
He comes again to ground but a little before the boy and very deliberately walks into his path.
They crash and instantly he is apologetic, offering the boy a hand back onto his feet.
His eyes are mismatched in hue, the right a pail green while the left is a muted hazel…indeed but for this slight difference in colouring they are a mirror for his own.
This the boy sees also, for his eyes widen a little as they meet his and then he catches himself and they fall to regard something behind his 'rescuer'.
"Thank you." The boy remarks, his voice so akin to that recalled within his memory.
"It was my fault to begin with." He responds and then, because he can not yet let this living ghost from his side he enquires,
"Would you like to join me for a little tea, or have you somewhere else to go?"
The boy seems hesitant, most likely for his forwardness, but still he replies,
"No, I do not have anywhere else to be and yes, I will join you for tea."
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T: He is Seishiro, in case anyone was in any doubt. Well that's the first chapter and as you can tell it's going to be another slow burner. Hopefully the next chapter should be up Sunday, but it all depends on how far I get in inking out chapter three…keep your fingers crossed! Oh and R+R authoresses survive on praise, afterall!