Author's notes: This is my third Yami fic…though I never got to finish my 'other' fic…so anyway; I thought this one would be a better sequel to My Only Correct Decision my a/u fic. I want to stress first that you people should try reading the mentioned fic before proceeding with this one since I would be referring stuff from that (that would be a choice and by the way, I would be putting some references anyway)…if you could follow this fic without wondering what this is about. Please do give a review to tell me if there is anything that you don't like, etc.
[Prologue: Dreams]
"Today, I live as a phantom for I still live in my past"
The setting that would be witness to another story of memoirs is here, in a large old city, filled with churches every fifth street, gas lamps, cobbled stones, filled with gothic designs and carriages passed through the streets. Everything around was an epoch to an old world full of dark pretenses, of a fallen age of the mind, where even the smallest detail is given a touch of melancholy. The time now is early morning before dawn. No sunlight was visible except for the fast fading moon and the shades of midnight blue was slowly becoming lighter, and the horizon was dully marked with the faintest orange. During these moments, nothing can be heard except for the rustle of the tree leaves and a buzz or two from an insect lingering about. Nothing, can even notice the slightest movement because of the lack of sound. Only a quiet, moving shadow can betray that there was someone lurking in the morning mist.
Now let me tell to you about the lone person walking. He was not visible enough to be said that someone was really there. He was more like a ghost because he did not make the slightest sound. You could tell he was graceful, for he approached with such speed but without the drag one usually had when walking fast. The strides he did immediately brought him to a nearby church. There, he took his time to observe the cross on the top of the sacred building. The carvings, sharp features of the old walls of the church cast an intimidating shadow, sharply defining the carved lines in the dull light of the morning. This peculiar person moved forward and forced to open the heavy church doors and entered.
Inside the church, a young altar server was there, fixing the altar for the morning's service. He did not notice the man who entered a few moments ago. He continued fixing the candleholders, replacing the melted wax with newly, unspent candles. When he was passing to reach the other end of the front, he finally heard a soft thud on the ground.
"It's still early morn'n…oh dear," the altar servant said after finding a man, lying prostate on the ground. He was so surprised he did not move from his place. Both of his eyes were fixed on the young stranger, his mind becoming curious as every second passed. He could not just leave the man alone for he had to check if the prone body was hurt or anything.
He is still young, no signs of illness, he thought. Then why is this poor man here? Only one striking feature was showing through this unconscious man that made him alien—his slivery locks of hair. No one could own such kind of hair at neither would his young age permit his hair to turn silver, however, it had a texture of being its natural color. Was he human? His profile, with the addition of his ensemble of all-white long coat and garments made him unnatural.
The other man looked worriedly to the person lying on the ground. He was not sure about what to do. Finally, after a few seconds of doubt, he resolved to run to the rector for help. He turned his heel, only to be gripped by a strong grasp on the ankle.
"Pray, tell me what time I am in," said he, the man lying on the ground.
The altar server was reluctant to answer the man in from of him. But seeing how helpless the person on the ground was, he took thought of seeing for himself what he could do for the other man. "To-day is the start of the eighth month, sir."
"And the year?" the stranger asked calmly.
"1825."
"Positively?"
"Surely. I apologize myself for being rude sir, but you seem to hath not been able to keep track o' the days. Please do tell me why for I was quite surprised by your sudden arrival."
"My apologies for frightening you. I am pretty sure I have passed a long time. I have been arose from my sleep and thought to myself to try and walk. I actually did not know that I have spent almost the whole year in a comatose.
"I am very sorry, sir. I do hope you forgive my rudeness. Please let me help you up."
The man on the ground gladly accepted the hand he offered and got up. After balancing himself on his feet, the strange man plunged his hands inside the inside pocket of his coat and wore a pair of glasses before looking back at the altar server.
"I think today would be a nice day. I could manage to walk back home. Thank you for your help." The strange man gave a small bow and went out of the church, leaving the servant speechless. His curiosity got the better of him and he followed the man outside, only find out the there was no man to be seen. Impossible, he thought, could it be a ghost? He felt uneasy thinking of this and immediately made a sign of the cross and rushed back inside the church and finished his tasks hastily.
◦◦◦◦
Rooms of the upper class during those days were lavish. Everything was elegant, graceful. The white walls were decorated by long, sweeping curves around pillars, wall edges even the mirror stands, chairs, tables and doors. Glowing candles and shimmering crystals, making them as regal displays of those who owned them, fill the grand chandeliers as they hung on the wall. Great lengths of tapestry fill many rooms of this mansion. Everything in this bountiful and large home was beautiful…including its occupants.
One such occupant was a male with surpassing beauty. His brown locks of hair fell unkempt on his white pillow as he slept. Nothing could compare to his complexion and the starkness of his eyes when opened. People oftentimes referred the young man as the 'emerald heir' because of the remarkable color of his eyes. Only early in the morning one cannot appreciate his loveliness. The darkness of the morning and the heavy drapery of his room secluded any light from the outside.
Today, however, one person seizes the opportunity to see him. He stood still outside the glass entrance doors in the balcony. He stood there as if in doubt if to break inside the room of the sleeping lad. At length, he moved slowly into the room, passing the glass without opening a single hinge. Placing a hand over the glass, he looked outside and gave a diabolic smile of satisfaction of entering without any physical means. A small laugh crept from his throat, more of a sensuous laugh, of passion for evil. He knew what he wanted to do inside this room; that was, to kill its beautiful occupant.
He approached the four-poster bed and drew the hangings on one side and found the young lad sleeping peacefully. The stranger was taken by surprise by the profile of the one sleeping. He did not expect to see his prey to manage to become even more magnificent in beauty…even after a hundred years.
"Missed me, Kurosaki Hisoka? I'm back, with revenge so sweet, I cannot wait to put my hands around your smooth neck and suffocate you in your beautiful dreams. My plans for your death will be slow and more painful than your sister's1."
He placed a pale hand against the cheeks of the sleeping figure as if he was caressing a lover and sighed, "Sleep well. You might not sleep well afterwards. Thy tempest hath begun."
He said those with the tone of such sincerity, something like unrestricted passion. Finally, as if it was a going-away gift, this stranger moved to touch his lips with the young man named Hisoka.
This finally stirred the sleeping figure, who, when he awoke, found a man kissing him. His emerald green eyes enlarged out of surprise. This reaction followed an audible gasp of horror and his beating the stranger to get free. His voice failed him as he felt the closeness of this intruder close even more upon him. He was in a state of vulnerability, unable to fight back against his enemy—Kazukata Muraki. He was so unprotected to the dominance of his own foe; the same man he thought died through the explosion at the castle2 a hundred years ago! Nothing could deceive his eyes because his senses worked at such rigidity that he was aware the Muraki was cradling him, smiling, laughing at his triumph to find him so helpless, and fondling him like a porcelain doll that he could break in an instant.
"Go away from me!!" Hisoka cried, though in vain for he was in the clutches of Muraki. The man laughed and said softly, tauntingly in Hisoka's ear, "Die."
After that, Hisoka felt a numbing sensation throughout his body, and followed nothingness…and everything went black.
to be continued.
1 Hisoka had a sister, unconscious by Muraki's working in MOCD.
2 Tsuzuki caused the explosion in the castle
another a/n: geez, I feel like I was creating a footnote for a research paper…though I placed that for the sake of those who don't want to read MOCD…I thought the other story was quite morbid…so anyway, please do tell me how this went…I apologize early on about the grammar if it's wrong etc. Thankies! Ja!