One-Two-Three-Four: Words of the Leaves
Written By: RinoaDestiny
A Clover fanfiction (everything belongs to CLAMP).
Author's Note: I was playing the DS game 999 when one of the characters mentioned the "leaf words." The leaf words relating to a four-leaf clover inspired this fic.
One-Leaf: Faith
Oruha loved the silence of the backstage where Kazuhiko often waited after her livehouse performances. He was there each time if he had a break from military duty, ears attuned to her music. Her lyrics spoke to him and him to her, glances across the stage that said much with little. She knew whom to expect; tall, dark, and handsome leaning against the wall or by the low couch, waiting. Her soldier boy, her dearest love and for that, the riskiest leap of faith she ever took.
He'd never know. She'd never told him about her life, about how she saw her end coming as a child. That was even before she was a Clover, the One-Leaf left to her own devices, watched in an invisible cage. The tattoo in between her breasts, a quaint little thing that most took for decoration. It was a constant reminder of how little time she had left. How it was to end on a certain day and in what manner.
She knew. It would end in blood and silence after the echoing notes of a song. Her life shattered but it would come to an end and she'd leave in grace. It seemed a cruel thing at the time when she was young and childhood a mere shadow. Now, years later and lush adulthood upon her like a dark mantle, Oruha understood. She couldn't fight it. That would be pushing against a wall that she couldn't see nor change. But she could love and nurture that, love Kazuhiko and no other before her time ticked to its irrevocable stop, minute and hour and second hands aligned with death.
She paused before the backstage door, laying painted nails and soft fingertips to the cool brass handle. Marking her imprint, as if saying "Remember me."
Silences in the now and in the after; wistful here and soft as velvet and shared kisses in the dark beyond the door. She turned the handle. Swung the door open, inward and stepped in.
He was there, all tall limbs and military brass and love and joy aglow in his dark boyish eyes. "You sounded wonderful out there."
She smiled and joined him.
Settled into his arms.
Two-Leaf: Hope
As a child, Gingetsu understood with innocent simplicity why his mother named him so. "Your silver hair," she had once told him, holding him close. "You were born when the moon was out white against the night sky. You're my silver moon, Gingetsu and your father the bright sun." He didn't recall if he'd mentioned the stars in relation to his mother but he remembered – faintly, as if from an old recording – her laughter. His mother was beautiful and in part, he'd resembled her. Something about the eyes.
That was before the Clover Leaf Project. Before they took him away.
Silver moon. His mother's romantic inclinations giving birth to a name, an identity that was his. That identity became even less as the years went by, and sometimes he didn't think about the past, about what was. Childhood was memories in a vise, something he dared not disturb. He let the dead lie.
Gingetsu dared not hope for more, for something other than what he'd been granted. His life, his occupation, his salary and status as permitted by the Wizards, restrained in so delicate a way that his chains appeared invisible to all but him. He couldn't hope for freedom, for a life away from scrutiny and fear. He should be thankful to be alive – with other Clovers dying or encaged – but gratitude was hard-earned. The Two-Leaf tattoo on his wrist bound him to his fate.
As with life, it continued. Gingetsu closed the file on his desk and checked his daily itinerary as it scrolled through his visor. An appointment with his soon-to-be deputy officer, Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu at 1300 hours. He'd heard much about this man, and not all of it comforting to any officer senior to him, let alone a lieutenant colonel. Giving his uniform a cursory check, the Two-Leaf left his office, classified file in hand.
He hoped this Ryuu wouldn't be too much trouble.
Three-Leaf: Love
There were times when Ran sensed Gingetsu's moods of disquiet, even if the other man never gave an outward hint. He'd noticed, as time went on – as the years went by, faster and faster with each passing day – that these moments increased. Whether his lover was in denial or was simply unaware of his inner turmoil, Ran watched him, worried. He knew the reason why: one look in the mirror told him so.
Four years had come and gone, with the harbinger wind of the fifth year nearly upon them. By now, Ran looked and felt old. His skin was no longer smooth; his joints started to creak and ache; his hair gone gray, almost white – he mentioned that once to Gingetsu and was met with a heartbreaking frown – and his eyesight was no longer as keen, as sharp as he'd liked it to be. But he knew the consequences when he left the cage – when he left A – and growing old next to Gingetsu (who seemed so young at thirty) was a gift.
Tonight, he sensed Gingetsu's discomfort even as the man read a classified report (off limits to him) on the couch opposite his. He couldn't help but notice when faint lines wrinkled between Gingetsu's brows and the other Clover put the papers down, hand rising to rub the skin beneath the visor.
It wasn't just the long hours or the stress.
"Gingetsu?"
The Two-Leaf paused, hand falling back towards his lap. "Ran? What is it?"
"Is something bothering you?"
Gingetsu wasn't the type of person to humor him. Or to dissemble and pretend nothing was wrong. Ran knew him too well for that.
"It's almost the fifth year."
They both knew it, and Ran wondered how much it cost Gingetsu to voice that out loud. To admit that their years together were nearly over. He knew of Gingetsu's retirement fund, of how hard Gingetsu worked to accumulate it so that they could spend it together in their last year. However, the Lieutenant Colonel was still working, so Ran could only imagine why.
Never let any Clover off the leash, particularly anyone higher than a One-Leaf.
"I know. I knew when I left the cage, Gingetsu."
"You'll be free soon."
He could hear the unspoken thought, which Gingetsu would never say: I wouldn't be. But even if Gingetsu never said it, Ran realized that for them, the past four years were bliss – watchful, inevitable, an ending that would come – and in ways, a freedom granted due to sacrifice.
"Ran?"
It wasn't rare for Gingetsu to address him but in this moment, when all the edges of their words seemed soft and dreamlike, it piqued him. "Yes?"
"Why did you choose to stay?"
"Did you ever hear of a story, Gingetsu? Of a bird that was let out of its cage, only to return?"
The other man frowned, as if thinking. "I might have."
"They say that if you truly love someone or something, you will let it go instead of locking it away. You gave me a choice, Gingetsu. You offered me a place and you knew what you had to offer to secure it. It was either the cage with A or a home with you. I chose to be with you."
The Two-Leaf didn't say anything for a moment.
"Gingetsu?"
"Your brother, A, let you go."
Ran didn't have to contemplate that fact to realize the truth. Yes, A did release him all those years back. A bird flown free from the cage but he wasn't returning. Not to A. It didn't mean he loved A less – a promise was a promise – but love had many permutations and he could love both Gingetsu and A in his own way. Life had a strange way of turning circumstances around.
"Yes, he did."
"Your brother..."
"I do love my brother. But I love you, too, Gingetsu. All these years, you knew that."
"Ran..."
"Don't worry, Gingetsu." Although it took effort, Ran stood and resettled himself on the couch next to Gingetsu, whose gaze fixed on him. "We'll be all right." He felt the man shudder, ever so briefly, as he laid his palm against the plane of his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now."
I did let you go, C, all those years back. We're twins. We both know each other. A was lonely in the cage – bereft of company after his murder of B and C's successful escape – and although he could sense his brother's mood, the other Three-Leaf was ambivalent in how to react to it. His brother's love for him was there but divided. He felt the resonance as his brother and that Two-Leaf lived together, talked together, and did things together that enraged and saddened A. But he'd promised C he wouldn't interfere – at least not until C died.
He was sure the Two-Leaf knew this as well, and as A counted down the years, approaching the cusp of year five, he awaited the day when he could confront the Two-Leaf. Confront him and kill him for taking C away from him all those years back.
True, he did let C go. But he did it because he loved C – didn't want C to kill himself on his account – and A didn't like seeing his brother sad. Still, on those days and nights when C was happy and it wasn't because of him, A was jealous. Jealous of that Two-Leaf, and what he meant to C.
Because C was his to love only. Releasing a bird didn't mean you loved it any less.
Four-Leaf: Luck
There was that common saying about a four-leaf clover: that it granted luck to whomever found it and plucked it, wore it or took it home with them. That was how it should've been and perhaps it was during simpler times. But for Suu, the four-leaf – herself being the rare and coveted Four-Leaf in this troubled time – it meant anything but luck. It meant solitary confinement of her own choice, the last glimpse of her mother as she was given over to the strange men, and Wizard Kou always calling in, asking how she was.
If anything, she was unlucky. Strange that others would consider her a talisman but then again, no talisman ever brought fear.
The Killer Dolls waited beneath the branches, silent sentinels dressed to deceive. She herself felt like one – the innocent face, the childish body, the mind already so complicated and yet so untangled – and then, all of that power harnessed within. For that was what they feared. She, too, feared that. For once she knew what she was capable of, she allowed herself to be enclosed in this pretty prison.
Suu was afraid of causing death or mayhem. She'd never wanted that.
So for years – she counted but time felt like an afterthought here – she lived and dreamed and one day found a friend. Oruha, the beautiful singer whose songs she loved, was the first friend she knew. But Oruha was a One-Leaf, doomed to die, and Suu wept when Oruha was shot and killed that night. She was careful after that not to love again and even though she wasn't a One-Leaf herself, she knew why Oruha was so reluctant. To love and then lose all wasn't easy. It wasn't simple.
No Clover ever lived a simple life.
They couldn't even deceive themselves about that.
Suu watched and was sad but happy when one of the Three-Leafs escaped his cage. He was reborn – could love and be loved, by a Two-Leaf no less – and she watched his transfiguration into Ran, into the Two-Leaf's partner and lover. She wished someone could love her like that, without fear or loathing or rude curiosity. But she was a Four-Leaf, bringer of ill luck, and she wished that on no one.
Then, one day, Kou called her. Wanted to speak to her.
Out of all the Wizards, Suu liked Kou best. Kou felt almost like a grandmother to her – watching over her not just out of fear or self-interest – and sometimes, Suu felt like she could trust her. Folly, perhaps, but she was human.
"Suu? How are you, child?"
"Grandma Kou?" The wizened face of the elderly woman hadn't changed. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking about you, that's all. Suu, is there a wish of yours that can be granted?"
She wanted to be free. To feel the wind against her skin, to love someone like how Oruha loved someone – Kazuhiko, she remembered – and to walk the earth barefoot. To remember childhood before the strange men came and her mother betrayed her. All of those wishes but only one could be granted.
She wanted to be free in the only way she knew how.
"Grandma Kou, I want to visit Fairy Park."
"Is that all, my child? I would've expected something more."
"You won't think badly of me if I say it, will you, Grandma Kou?"
"No, I won't, Suu."
She hesitated, then. Fear, perhaps. "Grandma Kou, I want to be free."
A moment's silence. "I understand. I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you."
"Take care of yourself, child. I'll speak to you again."
With that, Suu felt herself exultant, taken flight. Perhaps there was such a thing as good luck for someone like her. For a Four-Leaf Clover, seeking a way out of its cage. For she would be reborn – not in this life but maybe the next.
To join all those Clovers who left before her.