Why a Wolf Chases His Tail
They do not chase after it merely for the vigor of to play with: it is because they feel the need to do so. Because in their past life there was something they had not finished, and they run in circles those small circles trying to remember. T-T One-shot
Disclaimer: I don't own Wolf's Rain.
Death was supposedly cold and final, the drop of life, the last breath. But then there was the repetition of a next life. This was not for everyone, but only for those poor tormented souls who died with their only desire left on the tip of their tongue. This second chance was both a blessing and a curse, almost like immortality. But it didn't mean everyone resolved themselves the second time around, no, there were plenty of souls who just couldn't seem to finish off their last desires, and were recycled yet again.
Over and over, this cycle repeats…
The engine hummed smooth, yet loudly as the rider waited for the light to change. He'd had to wait only for a few seconds, but those few seconds were agonizingly long, and he being who he was, he didn't like waiting in the same place for very long. Something always seemed to pull at his wrist, as though something was either pushing or pulling him along, no matter where he went. It was for this reason of a constant tug that he never stayed in the same place for very long.
Enough time in one place to find some cruddy, run-down motel where he could crash, and when he was running low on cash, he'd search for a place where he could get a job, no matter how shady it was, if only to get a quick pay off. Anything went by him if it was even just moderately high. Just enough to buy a disgusting room, and something juicy and medium rare at some fast food stop.
So much time had elapsed while lost in his own thoughts, he didn't have the chance to realize that the light was taking longer, and all because of the bus that stood waiting. The rider narrowed gold eyes –a strange color all in their own, most usually thought they were merely contacts, and that his silver hair was dyed, as well- and tightened his grip on the motorcycle's handlebars. What was taking so long!?
His question was soon answered, though, when he looked over towards the bus and saw who looked to be a teenager racing towards the bus down the sidewalk. His eyes widened, and a strange sensation was beginning to stir in his chest, along with a tightening of every muscle in his body.
The teenager, a boy, probably in his middle teens, raced down the sidewalk with a seemingly familiar determined look (the rider had always had sharp eyesight, along with other senses, but being able to make out the kid's face so clearly?). Red hair, on the longish-side, but styled, making him look similarly mistakable to a girl, and…golden eyes.
A bracelet or two adorned his right wrist, though the rider recognized them as brand-bands, a new fashion-fad in high school kids these days. His eyes didn't leave the boy till he'd stepped onto the bus, along with a few other late comers who were getting a lucky break that they didn't miss the public bus to work. And even then, he watched, trying to peer through the bus' windows and catch another glimpse of the boy. He was able to, just as the boy chose to sit in the seat all the way in the back of the bus, where the large review window was located.
In fact, as he'd turned slightly to drop his backpack off beside him in the seat, his eyes had casually glanced up just enough to spot the motorcycle and rider, a thoughtfully blank expression crossing his face, before he slowly turned around in his seat. As the bus pulled off, the motorcyclist seemed to forget of his previous destination, and just a second before the light even changed, he ripped out of his brake and followed the bus, the tug that had been pulling him along all his life now forcing him to follow this damnable bus.
Similar to how a dog will chase its tail…
Images, similar to that of old memories, flooded his mind as he continued to follow the bus, a confused gaze stuck within his eyes. Wolves following a white wolf, the image of a pale hand of what he felt was a strange girl, a yellow sweat coat, a blue gaze, and finally, those gold eyes. That innocent stare, he'd seen it before, and it was that same boy, but…he'd never seen that boy before in his life.
Freezing snow whipping about and cutting at skin like knives, leaving red marks of burning cold, a cave, and heavy bodies lying close together. He could then remember feeling something soft against his hand, like hair…Red hair…A warm tongue lapping at his cheek affectionately, a nuzzle here, a playful nip there, and there was pain. A pain he could relate to getting bit by an animal, since he'd been bitten by dogs before, and knew it hurt like a bitch. But this was that times one hundred.
Too many thoughts, and questions about those thoughts whirled in his mind, much like the sandstorms and blizzards he could now remember feeling and enduring, but then remembering he'd never been to a desert, and having grown up in a relatively warm area, he'd never even seen snow. He'd never seen a wolf up close, and he only remembered his worst dog bite being from a German Shepard for just simply walking by it, and being attacked as though having invaded its territory.
Nothing was making sense.
They do not chase after it merely for the vigor of to play with…
The bus stopped at a subway station, and a few got out, a short red head among them. The rider merely stopped his bike in the nearest place he could see, which was right on the sidewalk (not that he cared about civil law at the moment, anyway) and the only precaution he took was shutting it down and ripping out the key just after tossing his helmet off and down to the ground. The small key he buried in the pocket of his leather pants, tight, leather pants mind you, as he pushed and shoved through the crowd, trying to keep his sharp gold eyes on the top of red hair.
It was difficult with all these senseless, useless humans around…wait, did he refer to them as humans? Why not people? Why had that come out so fluidly, and with such distaste and bittersweet familiarity. He grit his teeth together and growled lowly in his throat, pushing a businessman to the side a little harder than he needed to. He felt he couldn't afford to lose sight of the boy.
It is because they feel the need to do so…
Waiting in the back of the crowd, standing on his toes in already high heeled boots, the silver haired man glanced once to the right, once to the left, forwards, backwards, and back all over again in that order. With the way he kept turning and so quickly, just wanting to pick out that one distinct head of red auburn hair, he was surprised his head didn't just twist right off.
Sighing in exasperation, the man bit his tongue roughly till he tasted blood. It was soothing, as much as touching the strange birthmark on his chest soothed him when he was stressed. Though right now, his hand resting on his chest over the strange pale mark on his chest shaped much like an X that he'd had since birth, he tried to calm himself by telling himself how stupid he was being for running after some kid because…Why? Why was he here, looking for that boy?
In their past life there was something they had not finished…
Turning to his left, just as the subway made the tolling sound as it began to approach, the man had to look past a few people before he caught a single glimpse of red hair. His lips parting in a silent gasp, he steeled himself and barked out a quick, "Move it!" to those near him as he tried to push through the crowd. This was getting frustrating, he never wanted to be surrounded by this many humans again…There he went again with the human thing.
Coming closer, he found himself stuck behind a bar that separated people from one part of the terminal to another. It was only three feet high, and he could have easily stepped over it or something, but being not but ten feet from the boy, the man found himself frozen stiff. His breath hitched in his throat and he felt as though all thought had stopped.
The boy was staring down the subway tunnel, waiting for the shuttle to pull in, all the while leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet. The man glanced down for a moment, and thought he spied the boy wearing combat boots with jeans. It didn't look that great together, but for some reason, he felt cargo pants would look more suitable. Along with a red collared shirt, instead of the white t-shirt and black tank top the boy was currently wearing.
But then the sudden flash of a strangely specific image haunted his thoughts, and he could picture himself removing the red head's shirt, but it had been red, as red as the blush on the boy's cheeks under his golden eyes. A pale hand had come up to touch his wrist, and the glint of a large metal wrist-cuff, or bracelet if you prefer, shimmered in the small bit of light provided. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to a pale collar bone that was surprisingly very warm, and he heard the boy give a sharp intake of breath…But then the image was gone, and trying to recall it made it fuzzy.
They run in circles those small circles trying to remember…
His mouth dry and lips left parted slightly, the man stared wide eyed at the boy with an incredulous expression. What the hell?! Shaking his head, he looked up immediately when the roar of a subway train whirred past him, and caused a small gust to blow against his clothes and face. He then quickly looked back up as the train slowed, his gold gaze still fixated on the red head.
The boy was merely adjusting the weight of the back hanging from his shoulder, and the man thought he could see a shirt-sleeve sticking out from underneath the top flap. The bag looked packed, and the man couldn't help the impression of the word 'runaway' slipping through his mind.
…Toboe…
Why that name suddenly popped into his head confused him, and he shook his head just slightly. That name, sounded way to similar to something you'd name a dog or pet at least. Not the name for a boy, but then again, his own name was quite strange: Tsumaki, once accidentally pronounced with more of an 'e' at the end and leaving off the last two syllables. He'd gotten quite a headache when that happened, and he'd only been eight, but he remembered so far back because that headache hadn't left him for days.
Tsume and Toboe, names of pets. Dog names, aren't they? he couldn't help but think to himself. None the less, just as the doors opened, and the boy had just crossed the doorway of getting into the subway car, he was about to look for a seat, when the man who'd followed him so intently breathed out a simply word that made both of their gazes widen in realization.
"Toboe…"
Hoping to end what has only continued for far too long…
Turning around, the man could see the surprised and completely shocked expression on the red head's face, along with the few half seconds of silence that passed between them. All other sounds of everyone else walking through the terminal were flushed out. Their golden gazes were locked, and both of them had parted their lips as though ready to say something each, but the words were stuck to the tips of their tongues, at least until the red head turned fully around, allowing his backpack to slip to the floor of the subway, at a pile at his feet.
"Tsume…" he whispered back, loud enough only for the man to hear. Twin smiles slowly began forming on both of the males' lips, and tears even began to fill the boy's eyes. But just before he could move, the doors closed, blocking them from one another with six inches of metal, glass, and plastic. The horrified look on the boy's face from behind the glass could only measure up to the one currently on the motorcyclist's face, but nothing would ever compare to the utter terror as the subway began humming as it was just about to pull out.
The boy lifted his hands and pressed them against the glass, his lips moving soundlessly as he seemed to scream 'Tsume.' The man called out his name, and hastily leapt over till he was just beside the subway, walking beside it as it began moving, pressing his own dark palm against the glass.
The red head blinked back obvious tears, and pounded his hands uselessly against the glass once again. The glass was beginning to feel cold.
Running to try and keep up with the train, Tsume tripped over another person as he rammed into them, causing him to stumble back, and the person to fall, shouting obscenities as he did so. Tsume couldn't have cared less, and merely tried to run back after the subway, but he saw that the boy had already run to the back car, and was looking through wide, terrified eyes as the subway pulled them further and further apart.
Just as the car disappeared in the blackness of the tunnel, Tsume ran out of ledge to run upon, though just as he screamed out the other's name, he thought he could hear the distant call of his own from the frightened teenage boy who had once again been separated from Tsume far too early.
Because even dogs want a chance to sleep peacefully.