AT WHAT COST?
By Da Devil's Dictator D3
Disclaimer: How can I ever own something as cool as YnM?
A/N: This is my theory of Watari's mortal life before he became the mad genius Shinigami. It's an elaborate guess of the factors that made him into a Shinigami.
Chapter One
The steam train moved cautiously beside the cliff as it made its way to the next station.
A lone passenger sat in his solitary cabin, holding a small black notebook in his hands. He constantly flipped the pages back and forth, making a note on one page then going going back to other pages. Frequently, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and bit the top of his pen as he read through the words he'd written. Numbers, mostly though, and figures only a man of science could comprehend.
The numbers meant nothing though, unless one could connect it to another in order to understand and realize what it would mean. Perhaps, it would mean nothing to others but for him it meant only one thing. A woman.
An obsession triggered by the very target of it.
In between the pages of the black notebook was a picture of a young woman. The photo was that of a portrait painting of the girl. Though the photo were of dull browns and whites, he could still recall the day he laid his eyes one the true painting. If he had stood before the girl herself, he would have kissed her hands, or her cheeks even, if he couldn't help it.
But the painting was far away in the mansion of the Algiero in Italy. All he had now was the photo.
The numbers in his book all dealt with his formulas on a woman. It was all a fantastic blueprint.
But then. He was coming home. None of his eccentricities were acceptable in his house. He needed to focus to be what he was sent away to Europe to be.
The young man had just come off from a ship docked at the piers of Sapporo and was on his way to his hometown. It was five years since he'd gone. Gone to the many universities of Europe to study many sciences. He was fairly capable in chemistry, physics and mechanics. He had an Italian patron, Magnus Algiero, who took care of his expenses, as many noble men were wont to do with scholars.
Biting the tip of his pen, Watari Yutaka chuckled to himself as he thought on the main reason why science and becoming a scientist intrigued him so.
"The white lab gown looks so cool on me!" he gleefully squealed.
The train's whistle blew, signaling the arrival at the station and the abrupt stop made him fall off his seat with his head diving for the floor of the cabin. Melodramatically, all of his luggage fell on top of him.
Ooh...the curse of my eccentricities...
How Watari survived such an accident we'll most likely never to know, yet as long as he's twitching those warm hands, we don't care.
Looking around the station, he didn't expect anyone to come and meet him on his arrival. His family knw of his finishing but expected him on the next month or so. He didn't wish to see them yet unless he had fully established himself as a man to contribute to his family's welfare. He was the only son and child, damn it. It was no desire of his to hear his father's disapproval of everything he was and will be.
Taking up the two suitcases he had with him, he was about to call a cabbie when a young boy no older than ten stood before him, handing out a sealed letter. He took it and was about to leave when the boy held on to his overcoat.
"No sir. You have a carriage waiting. The mistress would have you to read the letter on your way," the boy stumbled on his words.
Watari looked at the crest on the letter's seal. It was familiar to him and he would trust anything with this crest.
He sighed though. "All right. Where is the carriage?"
The letter had the scent of jasmine and vanilla on it, and the characters were written in a light blue ink. It was written in kanji, perfected yet obviously by a foreigner. The letter explained very little and there was no indication of even the name of his hostess. It only mentioned an invitation to stay at her home for as long as he'd like.
The carriage didn't take long to bring him to his destination. The footman let him down and took his suitcases. They had entered a large compound in the country-side. The house was a large traditional dojo mansion, favored by the samurai-class. He was guessing the compound was larger than he was seeing as of now.
An old man came down the steps, wearing a servant's uniform tuxedo of Europe. He bowed to Watari.
"The mistress will meet with you in the gardens. She is very relieved that you have arrived safely," he told him.
"Relieved? Why? Was there supposed to be danger?" he asked, a bit surprised with the man's choice of words.
"No, but as the times have changed, that is how she feels nonetheless. Now if you take the stone path to your right, you will find yourself in the sakura garden."
The man bowed and left as Watari followed the path. It cut through the tempered grass and led its way to a zigzagged bridge across a stream no more than three meters in width. The sakura garden was across the bridge. He cautiously crossed the bridge and found himself amidst the pink blossoms of the many sakura trees. To have a garden filled with only sakura was entrancing to him.
Small and soft steps on the bridge he stood on told him of his host's advent. He turned and stopped. As many would put it, time stood still, balancing itself on a precious moments and all other events surrounding that moment. Donned in a light green kimono with pink floral designs, the young ril in front of him could be easily named a Japanese girl with her lithe body and timid movements. But she wasn't. Her hair was dark red and her eyes were of a deep blue that almost bordered on black.
She was the girl in the painting.
"Dante Algiero," he said her name as if it were so sacred that none else should ever hear or utter it.
"Ah! You recognized the crest of the letter I sent you?" she said, obviously hearing only her last name and struggling to speak in Japanese.
"Yes...and no...I know you..or...uhm...I recognized you. You're Magnus' daughter," he said, stumbling just like the little boy did.
"Does he still put that ugly portrait by the foyer?!" she exclaimed, this time in Italian. "I told him to take it off..."
"It's not ugly! It actually quite beautiful...You were..." he was about to say something he might later regret but was saved from doing so when she interrupted him.
"Beautiful? I hate being praised for such!"
Then, there was the awkward silence that ensued between them. Out of words for a pleasant conversation.
"Many praise you for more than your beauty, Miss Algiero..." he said something finally.
"It doesn't matter, I don't care," she shrugged. "Mr. Yutaka, my father has arranged for you to stay in my household for as long as you would permit us to keep you."
"Oh...of course," his disappointment audible.
"Once one has been accustomed by the Algiero, one will always be advocated by the Algiero. You will want for nothing. It is a life-long covenant."
Watari heard her but didn't listen. He'd heard those words before but from her father. They sounded reassuring then, but now she made them sound bitter. She told him that she was entitled to patronize him until time no longer mattered.
"I never realized it worked that way. I've always stayed at other houses when I wasn't in Italy with your father."
"Distant relatives. Friends or nobles who owed our family a favor," she told him. "It's all a brilliant circle of connections and who you know."
He nodded.
"You may rest now, if you wish. But please do see me for a discussion of your plans," she bowed to him in the traditional way and turned to leave.
"Wait," Watari held her soft hands. "May I?"
Gently, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her delicate fingers. She watched him with calculating eyes.
Knowing full well he could never help it and would never regret it, he took a step towards her and kissed her lips. They were soft lips that deserved gentle kisses. His was gentle but he could tell she had only received rough and roguish ones.
He parted. Her eyes still held no expression.
"Good day," she walked back to the other side of the bridge they stood on.
Watari wasn't aware of it earlier but when she left, her scent of vanilla and jasmine stayed and wafted steadily in the air. Somehow he realized why many of the people he met called her a winter's mystery. And why everyone he's met had somehow in someway been madly in love with her.
End of Chapter One