Title: Ignorant is my name
Summary: I stare at the tombstone, golden, polishing itself as the rain pours lightly over what's left of you. Your not here, but your carved name is enough to convince me. I sit before it, adjusting the fallen irises, and remain there, staring at your name that reflects my pitiful image. HatsuharuxYuki.
Author: Well, I started reading out some of Furuba, and I think I get what's going already.
Basically, there are 12 cursed members with the spirits of the Chinese zodiac. When each member is hugged by the opposite sex they transform into their zodiac. The story is sugar coated but has a dark them hidden that will be dragged out. Yes? Well, I'm not gonna go on since, if your reading this, you know Furuba really well.
I hate writing fics when I have people I know in real life as friends in here, free to read my writing. That's why I hide under many pen names. But what ever. She does it, she's fine with it, I'll just bear with it.
Before I begin, let me make myself clear. I am not suicidal, not 'emo', not severely depressed.
I'm just a 17.10 year old girl who loves to write about angst and death cause it's way too fucking easy.
Anyways, proceed :).
Reviews, as you should know, will always extend the fics. And are very much appreciated.
Soggy shoes ran down the white tiled building, turning with great stamina as they turned each corner, nearing the room he knew he wanted to avoid. But he couldn't, because he needed to know if what he was told was true.
His arms, bent, swung back and forth as his body arched forward, his speed increasing. His lips were parted his exposed teeth clenched. Brows knotted upwards, in worry, his eyes blank, fierce.
He told Rin to wait for him downstairs in the car. But she didn't seem to listen, because her speed was obviously held back as she ran nearby, nearly kicking his heels with her toes.
But that didn't matter to him. He didn't care about his girlfriend following him, didn't care about the constant shouts the nurses and doctors blared in the corridors, echoing off the walls and aching into his ears, didn't care about the security guards jumping from their positions to stop him from further going past the restricted area, that Rin easily managed to toss away.
He got there, his feet sliding to a stop, nearly tripping over each other. His hands slammed against the door to catch himself, composing himself in within seconds, and grabbing the handle, sliding it open with great force, his eyes finally focusing to what he was facing, blurry. He brought his fingers to the brim of his eyes, swiping the lashes. He had no idea he was crying.
A man, dressed in a suit, not a rare sight, looked up from the patient, eyes wide, slowly standing from the chair as he looked to the visitor, hair swaying slightly, but not enough to fix the misplaced strands. "Hatsuharu?" He asked, voice cracking. But it wasn't much of a question, more like a shocking statement. One that told the teen that he wasn't meant to be there.
The white haired man scoffed towards the mans direction, his temper getting the best of him. He pushed away from the door frame, eyes attached to the white covered body, ignoring the other.
"Your not supposed to be in here..." The man started, not caring whether he was being ignored or not, or so it seemed. It didn't sound harsh, more over, it sounded pained, sad, broken.
The other glared at the sheet, not knowing whether he should respond, or run away. But he did know why he could not pull away from the sight. The sight that ruined him, slowly sinking into his being. What was this? Why was this happening?
His arms bent as his hands laced into his hair harshly, tugging them from the scalp, his teeth gritting against each other as he hunched forward, eyes wide.
He hoped that this was a dream. That the body under the white sheet that hid the body was not there. That it was only an illusion, and the patient wasn't there, lifeless, and instead was back home, smiling, eating, talking, as it should be.
But no matter how many times he blinked, the body was there, the sheet was still consuming it, hiding what was under, limb, like a doll. Lifeless, like a corpse.
Because that's exactly what it was. It was no longer a living object, the pints of flesh given was not able to restore it. It was a body, it was a bag of meat, bones, tissue, muscle, organs, and donated blood.
It was Yuki.
"We can't give him a proper funeral!" Harsh, cold, quiet. Almost as if he knew the cow sat outside of the door, hidden by the half opened frame, eavesdropping.
The other man scoffed, laughing lightly as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And what makes you think that?!"
"Because!" The other man yelled, raising his voice. Haru was sure they had no idea he was there. "It was a suicide! Suicides do not deserve a proper funeral!"
"And what makes you say that? He was of no religion. Or at least we have no knowledge of it." The other spat, clearly exhuasted by the others constant ignorant bickering. "Besides, isn't that the Christianity,u-uhm...Catholic bull crap? We live in Japan Matsuri, not America."
"But his parents were Catholics! Therefor, Yotsu, the Sohma child was one too!"
"He was neither." He suddenly disagreed, making himself visible as he stood and turned the frames corner, revealing himself. "Yuki was not religious at all." Haru hissed, glaring at both men, his eyes remaining on Matsuri most of the time. "So stop with your religious and burial crap. The people who get to decide his funeral is us, not you mother fuckers, got that?"
"Listen, child," Yotsu started calmly, looking up to Haru, his elderly face scrunched up. "We understand your pain. But please, leave this to us."
"And why the fuck should I do that?!"
"Because we are older and more mature people!" Matsuri spat, his old voice cracking lightly. "So if you would be so kind, diminish your rudeness, and leave." He spat, wafting his hand at him, towards the door.
The cows gray irises were slightly hidden as his eyes further narrowed, his glare seeming more dangerous. "If you would be so kind," He began, trying to keep himself from yelling, the intensity of his anger building, pushing against his chest, making him want to scream. His bare feet paced across the tatami floor heavily, and he stood over the old man, squatting as he looked directly to him, his hand shooting out and grabbing his yukata's collar. "To shut the fuck up, and leave this to his family!"
"Hatsuharu!"
The cow groaned, his eyes not leaving Matsuri's shaking ones, his body becoming one to himself again, feeling every muscle that flexed shake, the hand wrapped around the wrist of his free hand held over head, the hand clenched. He had no idea he was about to punch this cynical old bastard. And he wished he had, cursing the man who held his arm back from harming the elder.
His blank eyes, small black pupils, glaring at the man above him. "The fuck do you want? You can never fucking leave me alone!"
"The funeral is of Akito's decision." Hatori spoke, looking to all three, clearly speaking to the elders mostly who were already ahead of themselves. "Once he has made the decisions, you two will further fulfill his wishes. You two have no say as to how the burial will take place. Your job is to do it was the head says. Understand?"
The men stared blankly at him, in a somewhat rude way of physically telling him that they could care less about what he said. Regardless they took it in, because Hatori was right, and they could not go against Akito's orders.
The doctor looked down to the boy in his hand, eyes sharp, threatening. "You, come with me." He ordered, voice anything but harsh.
Hatsuharu did as told, letting go of the mans collar, and standing up, following behind the young man.
"You know," Hatori began, as they walked down the long wooden hallway that belonged to the patio, next to the garden. "We, even as Sohma's, have no say in his funeral either. It's all up to A-"
"That fucking bastard, I know..." Hatsuharu ended, or rather, added. "I don't understand why you guys practically kiss his spoiled feet." He spat under his breath.
Hatori slightly turned his head, looking over his shoulder, then back forward towards his path. "For that same reasons you do."
The blunt statement froze the cow for only a second, then he continued. It was true, that is, what Hatori said. It was like some magnet that pulled in the Sohma's. This unexplainable attraction that lured them into the confines of the evil king, their God, the demon in disguise.
He had no further statements to such, because it couldn't be argued with. So he followed behind the doctor silently, eyes glued to the floor.
For the past week he had been trying his best to forget the incident, the voice that sobbed in his ear through his cell phone that specific night, telling him the news he was not meant to hear. He didn't know why they wanted to keep something from him, as if he wouldn't find out eventually.
His heart sped up with slight anger as he felt the betrayal. Why did they think that hiding this was the right thing to do? What where they going to come up with if he hadn't found out? That Yuki moved to another country?
It was hard, and that was the solid truth. Too hard to bare. He could not remove this mind from it. From the dream like sequence as he illegally drove his mothers car with his girlfriend beside him to the hospital, as he ran down the hallways while his girlfriend beat the security guards down, as he paced into the room with his dead relative on the bed.
He felt like he was the only one who understood. Because he was the one, besides Hatori, that saw the body. But apparently, even though the others did not witness the body being pushed away into the hospital morgue until release, they still felt heavy. And he was glad that he was not the one that found him, or that had to carry the barely conscious teen down the stairs, that had to clean up the blood stains that seeped into the grounds cracks, that had to watch him slowly die on the couch as the ambulance got there, like those who live with Shigure.
But he was not glad with the fact that he was not able to see him before he drifted off, was not able to talk to him one last time while exchanging words, was not able to touch the soft flesh that was now as stiff as a dead rodent, was not able to see his last blink, or the eyes full of drifting life.
There was a small wheeze of pain, but purposeful, because it didn't sound true. Hatori stopped and Hatsuharu did as well. A voice then followed, weak, calling the doctors name.
The older man turned to the teen, nodding slightly, as he slid the barely open door and walked into the dark room, tending to Akito, who was barely talking above a whisper, his cries louder than his words.
This went on for minutes, and Hatsuharu had decided to sit at the edge, his feet barely touching the dirt as his legs dangled, staring at the small rivers that watered the pond surrounded by decaying flowes. Winter is coming.
More time passed, and finally he heard a voice that was audible, and it was Hatori's muttering a sharp "I understand." and walking out, leaving a crying Akito behind, clearly unintentionally, but ordered to.
Hatsuharu shifted, turning around slightly, looking over his shoulder and up to the man who stared towards the garden.
"It's been decided." Hatori whispered, his eyes glazing over, remaining on the scene, and the teen decided that Hatori was also staring at the flowers.
Hatsuharu's eyes lowered to the wooden floor, trailing towards the garden, staring at the flowers. Decaying, like the body they will soon turn into ashes.
The funeral was anything but quick, however, no one seemed to mind it. Not even those who would make themselves seem as if they disliked Yuki. Such as his father, mother, Akito, Kyo.
It was unusual, but those feelings were set aside, because nothing was important. The only thing that mattered was the funeral, was the departure, the final mutters of goodbye painted with sobs.
The final glimpse of his body before it cracked, bubbled, and melted in the cage of hellish fires, burning him into nothing but seemingly dirt, not whole, shapeless, unable to grasp, hug, touch without smearing.
Yuki, and their hearts ached, will soon become nothing but an urn of ashes. And the only way they'd be able to see him again was through the pictures in the yearbooks of his school life, the pictures of the banquets he attended, the pictures of his finally attained happiness when Tohru Honda came along.
People had brought expensive flowers, delicate, beautiful like Yuki's porcelain pale calm face. They were going to set it, drape it over his body like a blanket. But Akito said no, because then the flowers would mix with his ashes, and he could not stand the idea of Yuki's ashes being impure, mixed with something else that did not belong to him.
Final farewells echoed throughout the silent and dark cemetery, also as if the other Sohma's that were also turned into ash and buried here were saying it too. And it sounded like a beautiful chant, flowing like waves throughout the area, casting a warmth that soon disappeared.
And it seemed almost as Yuki heard them, his face seemingly smiling, a glimpse Haru was able to accomplish before the body was put into the flames, the loud wails of cries following soon after, not loud enough to drown out the cracking noise of spitting fire that ate away the flesh.
Author: This is like a.... Prologue?
I don't know. I don't intend to make this long. Sorry if it was boring, but I wanted to keep it short. This is one half of the plot. That is, Yuki's death. But there's a lot more to it. And i'm pretty sure the twists will shock you.
Please review, it would be great.
P.S- I'm not depressed! Or anything along the lines. It's just easier to type this shit out. Life's great, Obama's president, I'm going to Ohayocon, I go to an awesome private school. All's good!
So don't assume D: