Here Without You
By: Jecir
"The exchange students are settling in well," Dean Yukino commented as he took a sip of coffee. "The professors are very pleased with their progress, particularly from one of the students…oh, what was her name? She is in the medical department. Sweet looking girl, odd hair, though. What is her name?"
Tamaki was not paying attention. He was too busy stirring his soggy cereal to care what his father was saying. Another day, another waste of time. He stifled a yawn. I am so bored.
"Tamaki, are you listening?"
"Yeah," Tamaki answered on instinct. For all he knew, his dad asked him to jump off a building. Perhaps I should. At least the fall will be interesting.
Dean Yukino put his paper down and fixed his son with a focused stare. "Son, the exchange program was your idea. I thought you would be more interested in the results."
Tamaki sat back and crossed his arms. He had hoped that the exchange student program would liven things up a bit, or at least allow him some entertainment. So far, the only change has been the new topics in campus gossip and the occasional sound of Japanese conversation in passing. But to tell his father all this would be a waste. Thus, Tamaki Yukino, son of the Dean, put on a fake smile and said, "The girl you are referring to is Mizuno Ami from the Juuban district of Japan."
"Ami, that's right. Sweet girl. I met her at the orientation, didn't I? Excellent recommendations. I remember…"
Tamaki blocked out his father's incessant prattle.
Why was he cursed to such a dull existence? Everyday, the same routine. Wake up, try to eat while ignoring his father's updates on the non-adventurous campus life, go to class, pretend to care, smile at his fan club, return home, and waste the night searching the internet for something….anything…that would satisfy his boredom.
Or answer my question.
And what a question it was. It plagued him every waking hour of the day. The worst part was he could not even vocalize what the question actually was. He just knew that something was off. It felt like a piece of him was missing. He didn't know what or why or even how this could be possible. But it was there. Even now it pestered him, like an old wound's consistent throbbing registering on the edges of his consciousness. He would give anything for it to stop.
"Ohp. Time to go." Dean Yukino pushed up from the table. "Try not to be late today, Tamaki."
"Yes, sir." Thus, the cycle began.
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"Master Seiya?"
Seiya stirred from his musing. "Yes, Jenkins, what is it?" he asked, not turning from the window.
"Your father called. He said he would not be able to make it to the ceremony tomorrow. He hopes you will understand."
Seiya shook his head. Of course. Work was always first in his father's mind. It kept his sire occupied. How else was the man to cope with having lost his wife to illness in the last few months and having a genius for a son? Seiya was not surprised by his father's behavior nor did it bring him comfort in understanding. Thus, he remained neutral, hiding his emotions behind his sightless eyes. It was the one consolation he had for being blind. No one could read him.
"If that will be all…" Seiya let his voice trail.
The old butler knew when he was dismissed. "Until tomorrow, sir." With creaking hands, he closed the doors.
Only then did Seiya let his mask drop. Looking out into the night sky, he wondered what the stars looked like tonight. He walked three paces to the left and took hold of two brass handles. With a forceful turn, he threw open the bay windows and walked out into the night. The balcony was a sweeping semicircle arching out over the ravine. Were he to fall, none would find him, but Seiya knew he was safe. This was the safest place he could ever be in the gilded cage he called his home. His hands found the railing and his grey eyes found the sky. The night embraced him like a long lost friend. It brought comfort to the deepest regions of his heart. Here, in the dark, he was superior. At night, the world could not see, but he could.
Opening his senses to the dark, he asked the same question he always asked.
"Who am I?"
And, like every night, the stars did not answer.
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"Three orders of shrimp lo mien! Two honey-sesame chickens! And a lobster platter!"
"Yes, chef!" The chorus of young cooks called.
Fire flared from skillet after skillet as the chefs moved in rhythmic harmony, dancing around the small kitchen to the music of chopping knives, boiling water, and clattering pans. In the midst of all this stood Hatake Kyouya, the youngest cook on the line. He was in charge of the side dishes tonight. Master Unagi trusted him to make every side perfect. If he proved himself tonight, Unagi-sensei promised to start training him on the Sushi line. That was were the real money was. Money and flexible hours. He could finish school and still work the dinner rush.
A rare smile crossed his cold face as he thought about it. Just a little bit longer and he'd be a member of the Tokyo Police Department. Then he could start doing some real good in this world.
"I need two sides of sautéed vegetables!"
"Vegetables heard!" Kyouya called, immediately pouring two orders into a sauté pan filled with boiling butter. He dashed some spice over the order and began to stir fir. The aroma filled his nostrils, making his stomach rumble. He was always starving at work.
Four hours later, after the kitchen was cleaned to perfection, Kyouya stood in the back alley watching the sky. It had been a night well done. Tomorrow, he would start training. He wondered what new clients would walk through the door just to try his sushi? Maybe he would come.
Kyouya blinked.
He? He who?
The white-haired teen groaned. Not again. He had drifted into another annoying fantasy. He needed to keep a grip on reality. Dreams were dreams, nothing else. Life was now. He was one month away from completing his studies. He was about to be trained by one of the best sushi makers in the city. Life was looking up. It was not the time to indulge in boyhood fantasies about a mysterious Prince seeking his help.
Kyouya pushed off the wall, his face set in stone. It was time to move on.
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In the heart of Juuban, in a small apartment overlooking the heart of the city, Mamoru clutched the Golden Crystal in his shaking hands.
"Please, love," Usagi whispered, "You're the only one who can release these memories." She locked eyes with him. "Please."
Mamoru's resolve dissipated in the face of his wife's pleading eyes. Clenching his hand around the crystal, he closed his eyes and allowed his magic to run freely through his body. He focused on the crystal, giving one firm, final command. "Release!"
A wave of golden magic rushed from the room to do its master's bidding.
Mamoru sat and waited, wondering if he was doing the right thing.
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Tamaki strolled across the campus, already a few minutes late for English, but, as usual, he did not care. He was the son of the Dean. No professor dared discipline him. But for his father's sake, he would not be more than ten minutes late today.
Then, a rush of power hit him. His body went limp as his mind was invaded…
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Seiya sighed heavily, disheartened by another night of silence, and turned to leave. Perhaps tomorrow, he would get an answer. His pale fingers gripped the door, ready to pull it closed, when, in his mind's eye, he saw it. A wave of bright golden light heading his way.
He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't react. It was already upon him. His limp arms swung out, knocking over a vase as he fell. A loud crash signaled the house that something was wrong.
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Kyouya grabbed his head; his kneels buckling under the onslaught. "What…is this?" he panted.
His mind was invaded with images; his heart overflowed with feelings; and his body went numb from the overload. Darkness threatened to take him, but he stood his ground. He was the strongest warrior on earth. He would endure.
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Memories of a time long ago were released. They hit like a raging river being released from a dam. The three young men could only hold on for dear life as the river rushed past, washing away all that they knew about their life and replacing it with a powerful truth. Their bodies flowed with ancient power now restored. Their minds pulsed with new memories that swirled in unintelligible blurs. Their hearts rose in a great, longing cry.
And as one, the questions were answered. They knew what it was they had been missing.
Their master. Their liege. Their lord.
Endymion.