Continuity: More or less around volume 16. I think. Or, rather, any time during the Shaman Fight.
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Ties
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I know he is by all accounts evil, an undying youth who rises again and again with the same merciless prejudices. He is cruel and impartially hateful toward those who are not shamans; he is a murderer, a deceiver, perhaps even a sadist, and each time he returns from defeat, each time he laughs at death, he grows more clever, stronger. I pray for his destruction and listen endlessly to the gods, hoping to hear of his coming downfall, and yet all the while...
I am, gods help me, proud of him. I must remind myself constantly of his darkness to combat that in me that delights to hear of Hao's triumphs as much as Yoh's. Isn't he clever? I think glowingly as gossip and paper reaches me. My oldest son is so powerful, I continue and then I shake in the dark, feeling somehow torn and as though I am betraying my lazy, beautiful son Yoh. For some reason I feel as though I should not think of Hao as my son.
And why should I not? I carried them both in my womb, sang and talked to them both, imagining worlds of beauty and strength for the tiny boys slowly growing within my flesh, even as I knew he was becoming human from my strength. I loved Hao and Yoh in a way I could not explain to Mikihisa, feeling a deep connection to the gathering life that was dependent entirely on me, that was part of me. Even the gods have not been able to create that peaceful state of a looping cycle, my blood to theirs.
My feelings echoed into their bodies; a night of confusing sorrow was traced with ghosts of agitated kicking, as they protested my tears. Oh I do love Yoh, but I've always thought it was Hao kicking harder, as though he did not want his world disturbed, as if maybe he wanted to dissuade my pain. As if he knew we planned to kill him and his brother.
The fancies of a silly mind at night.
I never wanted to lose him, I wanted to keep him with me; I never told Mikihisa, kept it secret that I had nightmares about losing them, and wanted them to be mine. I didn't want Hao to be taken from me, I didn't want Yoh to be killed.
And then he learned (how can I be proud of his knowing, even before birth, that we were to kill him?), and we were left with a son we did not expect to keep.
It was difficult, knowing of Yoh's progress through letters and visits and familial love, and also knowing that shadow of a son gone. We knew he would return; I wondered if it was silliness, a weak emotion, that kept me longing to see the boy whose features mirrored Yoh, kept my arms feeling strangely empty with the want to hold him close when I never could.
Hao is darkness, destined to continuously strive for his vile goals. I should not think of him as my son; I should not feel pride and love when I hear of him defeating his opponents; I should not accept that darkness as part of him. But it breaks my heart every time I clasp my hands into fists, trying to deny him as my child, and when I try to connect him to the family shame, to the apathy or hatred I should feel--
I remember him when he was innocent, the one who moved and wriggled in my womb; he always made himself known, and I took it as comfort, feeling his gentle kicks under my palm lying curved over my belly. My baby, taken by his own destiny and the darkness; taken by the spirit he is as much a part of as it he, summoning it to save him, and it's chilling to think that I might have saved him myself, somehow, might have given my son to light.
I make no sense at night.
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Notes: I'd like to do a Hao perspective if he wasn't such a bootch to write.
Feedback: Tell me what I need to work on! Or bloat my ego, either way. ^.-
Disclaimer: All characters are the creations and property of Takei Hiroyuki.
--
-
Ties
--
-
I know he is by all accounts evil, an undying youth who rises again and again with the same merciless prejudices. He is cruel and impartially hateful toward those who are not shamans; he is a murderer, a deceiver, perhaps even a sadist, and each time he returns from defeat, each time he laughs at death, he grows more clever, stronger. I pray for his destruction and listen endlessly to the gods, hoping to hear of his coming downfall, and yet all the while...
I am, gods help me, proud of him. I must remind myself constantly of his darkness to combat that in me that delights to hear of Hao's triumphs as much as Yoh's. Isn't he clever? I think glowingly as gossip and paper reaches me. My oldest son is so powerful, I continue and then I shake in the dark, feeling somehow torn and as though I am betraying my lazy, beautiful son Yoh. For some reason I feel as though I should not think of Hao as my son.
And why should I not? I carried them both in my womb, sang and talked to them both, imagining worlds of beauty and strength for the tiny boys slowly growing within my flesh, even as I knew he was becoming human from my strength. I loved Hao and Yoh in a way I could not explain to Mikihisa, feeling a deep connection to the gathering life that was dependent entirely on me, that was part of me. Even the gods have not been able to create that peaceful state of a looping cycle, my blood to theirs.
My feelings echoed into their bodies; a night of confusing sorrow was traced with ghosts of agitated kicking, as they protested my tears. Oh I do love Yoh, but I've always thought it was Hao kicking harder, as though he did not want his world disturbed, as if maybe he wanted to dissuade my pain. As if he knew we planned to kill him and his brother.
The fancies of a silly mind at night.
I never wanted to lose him, I wanted to keep him with me; I never told Mikihisa, kept it secret that I had nightmares about losing them, and wanted them to be mine. I didn't want Hao to be taken from me, I didn't want Yoh to be killed.
And then he learned (how can I be proud of his knowing, even before birth, that we were to kill him?), and we were left with a son we did not expect to keep.
It was difficult, knowing of Yoh's progress through letters and visits and familial love, and also knowing that shadow of a son gone. We knew he would return; I wondered if it was silliness, a weak emotion, that kept me longing to see the boy whose features mirrored Yoh, kept my arms feeling strangely empty with the want to hold him close when I never could.
Hao is darkness, destined to continuously strive for his vile goals. I should not think of him as my son; I should not feel pride and love when I hear of him defeating his opponents; I should not accept that darkness as part of him. But it breaks my heart every time I clasp my hands into fists, trying to deny him as my child, and when I try to connect him to the family shame, to the apathy or hatred I should feel--
I remember him when he was innocent, the one who moved and wriggled in my womb; he always made himself known, and I took it as comfort, feeling his gentle kicks under my palm lying curved over my belly. My baby, taken by his own destiny and the darkness; taken by the spirit he is as much a part of as it he, summoning it to save him, and it's chilling to think that I might have saved him myself, somehow, might have given my son to light.
I make no sense at night.
--
-
Notes: I'd like to do a Hao perspective if he wasn't such a bootch to write.
Feedback: Tell me what I need to work on! Or bloat my ego, either way. ^.-
Disclaimer: All characters are the creations and property of Takei Hiroyuki.
