Cuenta! Thank you so much for helping to spot my mistakes! Did some minor editing and hope everything is smoother now. " )
It's updated with the last ficlet as well! \o/
Timeless
How many years have they fought on this battlefield? He has lost count. Rather, he had ceased to keep tabs on the years that has passed. But he does not tire of it because it was the only thing that kept him connected to a past that would dissipate once he lets go. The longing hurts and everyday it claims a little more of him, it gnaws at him from the inside, consumes him until he is all hollow.
Their particular legacy is survived by deaths…deaths of men who are caught in a battle of eternity when they swore their loyalties to him. There is no guilt when he forms the agreement for their lives. It is only a necessity to keeping his memories alive. This illusion may not last, but it holds enough hope for him to live through each day. He is well aware of the torment he provides himself, yet, it is the only comfort for one who has known love.
"Beautiful isn't it?" the deep calming voice spoke from behind him. He could feel the warmth reaching out towards him and he repressed the urge to turn behind to bury himself in that tempting warmth, even though he knows that warmth is only a figment of his memory, retaining its liveliness by the magic within him.
"Yes." Ashura answered softly, his voice ringing through the cold air like tinkling wind chimes as he raised his hand upwards to cradle a falling petal. He watched as the pink petal settled in the middle of his palm, fluttering for a while before tumbling off with the gentle breeze, and joining the hundreds of other petals that were floating down from those majestic trees. He watched the scene with a certain amount of wistfulness before turning to face him.
"I miss this place…" 'I miss you even more' he continued not daring to complete the sentence that formed in his mind. He understands that this affection towards the man, who stands before him, cannot go further than what they have established. Only a healthy respect for each other as rivals is allowed, for they serve different lords, and believes in the opposite philosophy of life, and neither is prepared to give up what they have now for a uncertain future. Grounds that both have not threaded before and may never have the courage to do so.
"How long has it been? I keep forgetting." Yasha asks teasingly as he gazed at the deceptively frail looking man before him. He remembers the first time they met and he was caught off guard by the surprise attack sprung at him from whom he thought was only an injured young page, he still has the scar on his chest reminding him of it. He doesn't know why he didn't kill him. He only remembers those amber eyes that was filled with life and lit with fire, and he couldn't bring himself to extinguish that verve. It was the only thing that made him feel that he exists at that moment. It was a distraction that pulled him away from all the deaths that was his life. He wonders fleetingly too as to why Ashura didn't plunge his sword all the way in but whichever it was…it started their complex but beautiful relationship that would last for a lifetime.
But neither of them could foretell the future…for if they knew the tragic end that would follow they might wish they have never met in the first place.
Eternity
I've met you before, in another time, in another place. I can't remember this ancient love that has been etched upon my soul but it breaks me still, everytime, when I evoke the silvers of memories. That castle in my dreams…is it real? I dreamt that we walked in the shadows hiding behind pillars where the moon does not shine. When is my awakening? Are you the one who will rouse me from my sleep and save me from these endless nights? I await your descent from that barren land, stained crimson by our battles that has no history…
He woke again feeling disoriented with the strange dreams that has been plaguing his sleep and blinked as he brushed away stray strands of hair to uncover warm brown eyes, frowning as the owner tried to recapture the image of that mysterious man with molten amber eyes and strange elf like ears in his dream.
'Who is he? Why does he keep appearing in my dreams? Why do I feel so sad when I dream about him?'
These questions haunt him to no end. Yasha shook his head gently to dispel the grogginess from his sleep and blinked against the rays of sunlight floating in through the window. He was really tempted by now to visit the psychic that his classmates were talking about. He wasn't a superstitious person, but it wouldn't hurt to satisfy his curiosity once in a while and get an answer to all these strange dreams he has been having. He was feeling way too depressed because of them and it was starting to affect his life. It was unreasonable that one could feel so affected by someone whom they have never met and who most likely doesn't even exist. This man…he was only a figment of his imagination.
But how could he explain the longing he felt? His heart clenches and twists everytime he sees that wistful smile…how could he explain skin that felt so real to his touch everytime he brushed a thumb over those soft cheeks? How was he to explain the feelings of despair everytime he was pulled away from the man when he wakes up? It was as if he had known him from before…a long time ago.
No. He shook his head vehemently, enforcing that thought. He had never met anyone like him before. If he did, he should be able to remember such striking features.
It probably wasn't in this lifetime because he has no memories of owning those strange bellowing dark robes that he wore in his dreams and he definitely has never kept his hair that long before…
Perhaps in another life, he wondered as he got lost in his thoughts once again. Were they lovers in another life? Is that even possible? Could love transcend through those cycles of reincarnation? Was there even such a thing? Maybe…
"Maybe…Ashura…maybe…"
He touched his lips as he muttered that name and felt tears ran down his face because he remembers that the man in his dreams had never told him his name…
God of legend
Devoid of the want for mortal pleasures
Can you exist on an eternity of loneliness?
You lain dormant in your realm watching us the fallen
What is it that lingers in your consciousness?
You have forsaken your past
Do you see what you have lost?
He is still there…
Cattyfuzzy
This floating castle in which I reside
Where the violent storms of the purple moon
Refuses me serenity
My heart is a prisoner in your dreams
The battle fades when I awake
You are still far away from my reach
This illusion that I keep alive
Is a lie that has become my life…
Cattyfuzzy
Forever
Ashura sauntered across the cool wooden floor of the loft and stepped out onto the balcony. He looked out across the city lit aglow by the lights from those strange towering buildings. The clear night sky was a perfect backdrop for the scene and he couldn't help but let a smile escape him. He was finally here…all he had to do now was to follow his instincts. He knows Yasha had to be somewhere among all these people.
It used to be simple to look for someone in the past where everyone knew each other and unfamiliar faces were instantly singled out. But this place...it is monstrously huge and noisy and people were indifferent to anything that was happening around them, brushing past each other with a glazed jaded expression upon their faces. He wonders if loneliness is felt more acutely in this big cold city, roaring with synthetic and aesthetic life that hold no meaning whatsoever in their designs.
He hopes to find Yasha soon. He knows he remembers because they are still meeting in their dreams, in the still of the night. But their dreams only connect them spiritually, not physically. He had chosen to remain in their world no matter what happens because if he ever leaves their love will be for naught. It is not something his heart can bear. Now, he has found the opportunity for them to live another reality and put their past to rest. They could have a history no longer hounded by bloodshed and loyalties. They could finally love as lovers should.
Ashura wraps his coat tighter around his body as another draft blew past. He longs for Yasha's unyielding warmth and to feel his hands tangled up in his hair. He only has the memories of that kiss they shared before everything collapsed. But that was ions ago and the memory of it has turned vague throughout the years. His skin is starting to forget the feel of those lips and it terrifies him. He couldn't possibly let everything fade away and that fear had pushed him to make the decision to be here.
Everything that he had gone through to this point was surreal, even his old life felt like that now. The feeling of intense apprehension and anticipation of stepping into the unknown has been fought and won. He had the necessary documentations and identification handed down to him by that mysterious witch, she asked for a hefty price. But given the option of living alone in eternity or to live a life unrestrained…the choice was obvious.
Mortality has never been so sought after.
Countdown
"Yasha...come on, we're going to be late." Kiki prodded her classmate, who is deep in his day dreams. It is not an option for them to arrive late for such an important event. It is a rare opportunity to be able to see those exhibits. No one knew where those artifacts originated from, and neither were historians able to decipher how old they were. The discovery of such rarities caused a sensation in the Japan Historical Association, and, History Majors such as them were very much attracted to this rare find.
"Sorry, I thought I heard someone..." Yasha apologized and looked in the direction where he heard a voice calling out for him. That voice sounds like tinkling bells. It seems so familiar, but he just can't put a finger on it. Ever since he realized he knew the name of the man in his dreams, he had been trying desperately to look for him. If it was already preposterous that he could even dream of a lover from a past life...there are simply no words to describe whatever he is doing now. But day by day...the nagging feeling that he is getting close to whatever he had been searching for, has gotten stronger.
If anything, the voice he heard was proof enough. He was sure he wasn't conjuring them up...
"Hey! Aren't you excited about the exhibition?" Kiki's chirpy voice broke through his thoughts again.
"Of course I'm! I might never get to see something like this again!" Yasha answered. He bit himself on the inside of his cheek and reminded himself that he should stop thinking about all this, and concentrate on his friend. It isn't very nice to ignore the person who bought you your ticket. Yet, sometimes, he wonders about Kiki's intentions. Wonders if his assumptions were true, and if they were, she is most definitely in for heartbreak. He was sure she knew of the fact that he was gay in the first place.
Ashura looked at the crowds forming at the entrance and hoped he made the right decision in sacrificing all his belongings for the curiosity of these mortals, he also had to keep reminding himself that he is one of them now. His heart constricts and aches everytime he realized that those beloved swords and armors that he carried his whole life, will no longer be called his. They were spiritual entities and to separate them from their rightful owners signals a pending death that was sure to befall it. But if it added to the odds of finding Yasha, then this might be worth it.
He wondered if Yasha heard the crying of his sword...the one that ended his life so long ago.
First Things First
There are some things that must never be mentioned because no one has to know. But men's curiosity always overcomes their survival instincts. It pushes one to risk everything else to get to the truth. Consequences be damn! But when it comes down to the bottom line, is the truth really so important? More than the life you have sworn to protect, more than the life you have built, more than the people who have come to depend on you? Is it worth throwing your integrity and everything else away just for the sake of finding that elusive answer that everyone will forget in time, no matter how big the sensation it caused?
How does one differentiate between the truth they seek, and the obvious truth that is laid out for all to see? Even the Vatican has its secrets. So why can't I be allowed the same privilege?
You have crossed the line and your professionalism is very much doubted. I can't see any other way but to ask for your voluntary resignation. You have done too much damage. This secret that I have kept so well, is the very thing that I seek to protect with my life. Now that it is exposed and left for the public for their indiscriminate judgments, makes me boil with such injustice. I have never felt such anger, such thirst to seek destruction upon anyone.
He was the only that mattered in my life. My way to the top has costs me too much, and now my only salvation has been taken away from me. How do you expect me to survive this? I thought I could trust you...I thought wrong.
Our partnership has been a mistake from the start, and I have never been more blinded in my life by this cursed ambitious heart of mine.
~ :: ~
Yasha gazed out of the window with empty eyes. He witnessed the somber changes in this city that he resides, noting that the city no longer looked like the life giving force that it used to be. Its pulse is becoming weak and quiet. Its colors are no longer vibrant. Its citizens no longer looked contented. Is this an echo of his heart's opinion? Yasha felt like everything had die along with him.
Dead...that is how everything looks like now.
Grey like the coating of volcano's ash that has covered his heart, rending it immobile, making each breath a painful reminder of what he had lost.
There was nothing he can do but to wait for this grieve to pass and be folded into the edges of his diary, forgotten and relieved of this heart wrenching pain that paralyses. Until then, he can only hover in stasis, feel each second, minute and hour tick by while the urgency of his current predicament presses upon his consciousness. The sight of people walking leisurely by down below seemed surreal, their composed life, still solid and plausible. He grew angry at the thought. He felt it unfair that he has to bear the pain of losing someone he loves. It was unfair because he was sure he deserved that little bit of happiness in his tumultuous young life. His mind can't comprehend the reason as to why the deep calm that normally surrounds his being is beyond his reach at this moment. Nothing rattles his soul or caused that thundering erratic beat in his heart more than the thought of, him, who is laid six feet underground.
This abrupt demise shattered the dreams he once held in his hand, his peaceful and contented existence which now lies in shards on the ground. There was no telling when it all began and how it all ended. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to barge in his life and turn everything topsy-turvy. But he knows he had never felt more alive or glad to throw those barriers away and be unguarded for once.
There was work to be done and that was something he could still look forward to, just so to distract and numb himself to the fact that he will be alone from now on in life. During working hours, he could pretend to be who he used to be instead of the man who talks to an imaginary lover at home, whom he pretends is still alive and well. He could act normal instead of the man who broke down in the middle of watching an advertisement late at night just because it reminded him of his lover's favorite food, and he could still be in control of whatever that was left of his life right now, instead of being the man who would lay in bed at home holding a blade at his wrist, wishing he has enough courage to end it all.
Yes, there was still things to be done before he could end it all...he gave a soft smile as he fingered the shotgun that was hidden in his drawer.
Revenge...
Reincarnation
The smell of the burning incense lays a scented trail that leads me to you. From the between the bamboo shoots, I catch glimpses of your pale silhouette sitting on the wooden deck, lit aglow by the fragile flame of the candle beside you. I watch your slender fingers manipulating those willing strings on the zither, wishing that I was those strings. I want to be the one to give you the inspiration. I want to be the one who moves you with that tune.
I am curious to know who you are reminded of when you play.
Is it him? But it has been years now and you should know that he can never come back. That sword which never leaves your side, was that the weapon that took him away from you?
When will you ever forget him? When will you see that I'm still here waiting, Ashura...
I'm reborn to love him the way he should be love...I can't have you in my memories no more. I'm no longer you.
Yasha...stop this cruelty, set him free and give him to me.
Reasons
It was not his ethereal beauty that captured me in the first place...but that innate grace that emanates from him when he draws his sword on the battle ground. It was that fury that I had not imagine one such as him would be capable of, and it was that red liquid of life that reflected the pale glow on his face when he takes the life of another.
We were born of tumultuous times and we knew nothing apart from the lessons we've learned from the battlefield...what little kindness that was shown to us, was forever etched onto our memory. Sometimes we try to pay forward the kindness by showing mercy to those who do not deserve it, due only because honor requires it.
How would we possibly know the full spectrum of love in those times, or, the right and the wrong of it? We fail to understand the vile condemnation directed against us. We had no one but each other...and love does not manifest itself through the lust filled nights that other men had shared with each other in the fit of passion, but of the deep bonding attained through years of trust unbroken, and from the times when we cried on each other's shoulders in the deep of the night, out of desperation and the loathing of the killings around us.
We are not sinners that have turned against the God your world knows. We were just men trying to find the warmth that was so lacking in our lives. How could that be wrong? Emotions have always been our greatest weakness...and when we fall...What comes next?
I continued watching as he danced the dance of death. I watched him morph into a reluctant death god in this never-ending battle. Often at the end of it, we questioned the purpose. But the purpose was long forgotten. It had disappeared with the ancient kings that lived on the castle beyond the purple moon and the other castle that floats in the air between.
We, the unfortunate, have inherited the cursed of their unrequited and tragic love.
Ashura...will we ever find the belief that we need to end this vicious cycle?
Lost and Found
They stared at each other, unable to find their voice for they were so in doubt of the sight in front of them. After searching all this time, they finally met. Yet this meeting, instead of being filled with joy was haunted with uncertainty and fretfulness. The only question on their mind was, 'Am I dreaming again?'
After so much anguish and torment in their lives, they have reached the crossroad that would bring them a new beginning. They only have to cast their doubts behind and take that first step, pass the threshold onto freedom's road.
Yasha was the one who took the first step…
"So…we finally meet. Man of my dreams…" he said with a slight curl of his lips, unsure if the attempt at humor would damage Ashura's first impression of him. He seems to have forgotten that he doesn't look any more different than he was hundreds of years ago, only the clothes and hairstyle have changed. He was still the Yasha that Ashura had missed.
"…." Ashura couldn't speak so his tears spoke for him. Everything he had gone through, all those anguish and heartbreaks he suffered came pouring out. His tears flowed in rivulets down his face and drained him of his strength. He stumbled before crumbling down to the ground and letting out a heartfelt cry.
Yasha understood. He does not need an explanation for this show of weakness. He walked forward and cradled the man whom he was reunited with through his dreams. He sigh as he felt those arms wrapped around his neck and it felt like they have never been apart before. The scent of water lilies he had almost forgotten, hit him like a sledgehammer, and all the little blanks of memories he had lost came flooding back.
The memory of them drawing their blades again each other the first time they met, the first time they realized they felt something more than the admiration for a fellow general, the meeting in the Sakura Garden where Ashura confessed. There was so much more…so much more between them.
He had callously forgotten those precious memories that Ashura had guarded with his life.
And he thought the best thing to say right now was…
"Sorry…I'm so sorry…Ashura."
No Longer
It is only through the eyes of a careful lover who is able to capture perfectly, the angles of their lover's masculine beauty, to sketch them in discrete and caressing strokes on tan paper, a controlled hand pulling together amorphous curves sharpen by graphite and the hard lines of a charcoal tip. Yasha could feel the contours of that body coming to life impregnated with subtleties that only a lover's hands have touched, known and remembered.
He studied the quiet and graceful impression of Ashura, noting the fine curls of baby hair by the edge of that elegant nape, the tiny laugh lines at the corner of each molten amber eye, and the sensual collarbones barely hidden by the drape of the silk shirt he wore ever so loosely, down to the tapered waist and long lean legs. They were so well defined that he thought that the artist must have been drawing with Ashura posing right infront of him, but the texture and ambiance of the portrait was too dream like, and it tells him that it is drawn instead from the artist memories of the man himself.
This portrait of a man he had once loved through the humid nights tinged with their ardor, displayed in the open halls of the princess's mansion, he had not understood it, not like the way this artist did. Were they lovers too, he thought, Ashura and the mysterious artist? Just like that, the memories are no longer personal, no longer confined in the privacy of his mind. It was as if someone else had step in, took a peek and liked what they saw and stole that memory away. Ashura, in that way was no longer in his possession.
Inaction
~ :: ~
*The characters are severely out of character in this particular ficlet, but what the heck! I kinda like them this way! " )
~ :: ~
Humanity has gotten used to blaming Destiny for its fate. That much is true judging by the repeating of mankind's worst mistakes. And Yasha wonders if he should sit tight and see where Destiny might take him after this ride has ended.
But in all honesty, he doesn't want this to end.
Ever.
It's going to resemble world's end if he sticks his feet in the mud, and gets this over with.
It's all a great conundrum really, and he figures that if that pretty boy living in the opposite side of this door didn't exist, he might have an easier time deciding what his next step is.
But he's no longer a shy and stumbling freshman in college. He's grown a little. Well, maybe just a few inches more than the average guy, that doesn't makes him a freak though. He should have already gone past this stage. He's no girl for sure, and pretty boys shouldn't be as intimidating as the one staying in the opposite side of this door.
Of course he is! Yasha yelled in his head. That boy's amber eyes have x-ray properties! He's going to see through whatever flimsy excuses he's going to come up with. He's going to laugh at his pithy pick-up lines, which makes him sounds like he's presenting his case points, which makes him really uncool and geeky, and brush him off as a ignorable nerd for the rest of the semester, and Yasha doesn't think he will ever recover from that.
He really does not want to graduate a virgin, and he really…really wants this guy. It's just that Ashura is ice cold, and that makes him incredibly difficult to approach. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, he's vaguely aware that it is a lame excuse. He brushes it off immediately. His mind is not getting the trauma his heart is currently suffering from. So he's not going to stress himself for that.
Yet everytime he stands infront of Ashura's door, poised to knock and deliver his speech, which he believes will floor Ashura and makes him the best Don Juan ever…he flails, gasps and shrinks up like the hunchback of Notre Dame before sulking in defeat back to his own room.
Every single failed attempt makes him wants to opt for being a coward, and just sit out his crush, till the last day of his senior year. But this just supplies another argument to have with himself. If he is so inadequate with expressing his feelings, he's never going to get past any other blocks to become the great news anchor he's supposed to be! News anchors are savvy, suave and smooth, and he's starting to see just how far away he is to become one.
And Yasha is just so frustrated with himself that he bangs unwittingly hard on the door infront of him.
He stumbles ungracefully through the door when it opens suddenly, and he's sprawled out on all angles with his long limbs tangled up with each other looking up at those amber eyes that have starred so often in his dreams.
He freezes up immediately. He tries to open his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and he's looking eerily alike to a gaping goldfish.
Ashura pursed his pretty, pretty peach pink lips and frowns in bemusement at him. He's wondering how much embarrassment he's going to provide for the gossip fodder when this whole sorry episode is over. Because instead of flooring Ashura, he's really floored instead.
"Sorry. I didn't know you were standing outside. Are you hurt anywhere?" Ashura asks.
Yasha gives out a long sigh when he hears Ashura's voice. He doesn't realize he's not responding to Ashura's question at all.
Ashura smiles again, it looks like a mixture of exasperation and a great deal more of amusement, which Yasha misinterprets it as a look of concern in his infatuated daze. He continues to lay on the floor until he feels a kick to his shin, and Ashura muttering to another boy with red eyes, whom he recognizes to be his roommate, how awkward this whole scenario is before he pulls himself out of it enough to get off the floor.
Yasha mumbles a barely coherent sorry and is out of Ashura's dorm room and down the hall within seconds. Completely mortified and, he thinks, he's really going to cry about this. He's also totally going to ask for a transfer to another hall, another block.
As long as it gets him far, far away from here…
~ :: ~
Kurogane lets his eyes follow the pathetic figure till he disappears down the stairwell and turns back to his room-mate.
"Seriously…I don't know what you see in him. That guy's a total dork."
Ashura smiles and turns back into the room without answering to Kurogane's jibe.
He's not going to tell anyone that that is precisely why he finds Yasha so adorable.