DIS: It's time to continue where we left off: with Jou pissed off and in deep shit; with Anzu and Yami facing Anzu's mother; and of course, with conflict between the characters facing every freakin' which way!
Thanks to raygypsy714, ShinoHina4eva (ah, but of course they are going to end up together...I am just taking my time. But yes, that was some subtle foreshadowing going on there,) dancers of the night (Yami and Anzu will get together eventually...Can't say for sure that it'll be soon!), drkmagiciangrl25, journey maker (to be sure, there will be more on the relationships of Otogi/Shizuka, Jou/Mai, and Honda/Miho even,) arana, Midnight Chamber, ANZU&ATEM FAN (don't worry, the questions will be answered sooner or later! I won't leave you completely hangin'!), and Sakura Takanouchi (yes, I am sorry for that. There is so much conflict going on that it can get confusing. But, you know, in real life, things don't just focus on two people...Probably why I have so many relationships in this story, lol.)
Enjoy the awaited chapter! :-)
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Chapter Ten, Wrongs of the past
Yami's hands tightened around Anzu's small shoulders to keep her upright. He hadn't known what was so shocking about her being Anzu's mother, but apparently it was something quite remarkable or Anzu wouldn't be reacting so strangely. She had never mentioned her mother and at the time, he had found nothing wrong it, assuming she was busy a great majority of the time, but now he was beginning to wonder if she had ever been in Anzu's life at all. He pulled Anzu a bit closer so that her back was pressed against his chest. The elder woman observed this calmly, awaiting some kind of response from him. Just to be a little shit, Yami decided he would disappoint her and asked in his pleasantly deep, polite tone, "So?"
"I haven't seen Anzu since she was six," she said simply. "That was fourteen years ago..."
It was all beginning to roll together, albeit clumsily so.
"Then what are you doing here now?" He demanded. Suddenly irritated, he threw up a hand, snapping, "I haven't got the time for you popping up into her life unexpectedly just so you can tear it apart, just like I haven't got the time for any other distressing matter. She has auditions for a part in an important ballet coming up. If you think for one instant that I'm going to let you upset her and ruin any chance of her getting the main part, you clearly don't know how passionate a pianist can be." A wry smile touched Sakura's lips.
"Oh, trust me, Mr. Mutou, I know exactly how passionate a pianist can be," she assured. "I chose to love a possibly unreliable pianist over remaining with my husband and daughter." Anzu was jarred back into the world at those words, recalling the word
"passionate" used by her father, but not in the same manner as these two.
"All pianists are lecherous; they are passionate about every thing they do and are womanizers. All they care about is their own happiness and passion."
He knew all along that mother had run away with a pianist, Anzu realized, her eyes focusing on her mother. That's why he treated Yami that way. He thinks that he'll lose me just like he lost her... "...How could you?" Anzu whispered, staring at her mother in disbelief. "How could you do that to your own family?"
"I fell in love with another man," Sakura stated quietly, careful to keep her eyes on Anzu lest she enrage her daughter any more than necessary.
"And so you just run off?" Anzu spat the words out, drawing from Yami's touch. "You give me ice cream, take me to see a ballet, and tuck me in with my father and you think it's all fine? Is that it?"
"That ballet inspired you, didn't it? Look at where you are now, Anzu. Do you think – "
"I don't care where I am now! We're not talking about this, we're not talking about me. We're talking about you. Who cares about me, right? Who cares if I fought and struggled to keep my dance lessons, right? Who cares how much hell I went through with father because you walked out on us without a by-your-leave, am I right?"
"Anzu, calm yourself," Yami advised softly. "Don't work yourself over her. It's not worth the trouble." Suddenly, Sakura's temper was sparked by his words.
"This is none of your business," she coldly told him.
"No?" Yami answered with a tone that overthrew any coolness she could deliver, his eyes dark pits of ice. "At this point, and you'll excuse my language, I couldn't give a fuck." Sakura stared at him for a long moment, reminded of her dead pianist lover, accustomed to the dark anger. All artists held that deep of an anger, that deep of a depression. It was the way that Yami Mutou moved around her daughter and kept a comforting touch to her that caused her some surprise. She hadn't thought her daughter would associate with him in that manner.
Clearly she does, though, Sakura thought. Her eyes drooped slightly with that realization. She didn't want her daughter to deal with much of the stress she had gone through when she was with her lover. For a moment, she looked away from them and heard Yami take the chance at her silence, talking softly to her daughter. I never really had a moment of true happiness after I left Seiji. It might not be the same for Anzu, but I worry that she might deal with the same kind of relationship problem as I did... She turned her gaze back to the two and saw Anzu leaving the stage in quick strides. She took a step to follow, but stopped herself. I came on too fast.
"Are you happy?" Yami's cold, angry voice demanded. Sakura turned to him and frowned. "Whether you are her mother or not hardly matters, now does it? If you haven't seen or made any contact with her for the past fourteen years, why should you even deem to think you're allowed to be called her mother?" Her face tightened in fury and pain. She knew, deep inside, that he was right, but that didn't change the fact that she was there now.
"Mr. Mutou, you are in no position to judge me. You are well known to have degenerate parents, your father who was a literal half-wit. How can you judge me for falling in love, when your own parents slept around with different people without any qualms?" She knew, suddenly, that she was lowering herself to a level that she had never been at. His pale face was stark against the lights that beat down on the stage and she was reminded of how pale and lifeless her lover's face had been when he died. Her cruel words that she had thrown in his face rang in her ears, just as she remembered her deceased pianist's words, "I respect Yami Mutou, as both a pianist and a friend, my dear Sakura. Please. Keep this amongst ourselves. He has been careful to hide his past. He may not seem like it, but Yami is a sensitive man. I would not like for him to be hurt by something he has been hiding so fiercely..."
What have I done? Sakura thought, watching as Yami struggled to regain some sense of composure.
"Please leave," he quietly commanded, turning his eyes from her, appearing visibly shaken. Sakura stood, ashamed of herself, before fleeing the opera house. She had betrayed her husband, and now her lover, by dredging up an ugly past of his most respected companion. Already, she knew that nothing past this point would go smoothly.
--
After Yami took Anzu home, his mind buried elsewhere, he went home and unlocked the cupboard where vintage wine, brandy, and every other alcoholic drink imaginable was held. That Anzu's mother somehow knew of his past, one which he was so ashamed of and disgusted by, proved to him that no matter how many times he tried, he could never be better than them. I do the same thing they do, he reflected as he took the tall neck of a wine bottle, stroking it thoughtfully with his other hand. I sleep with countless women and have no trouble in leaving them the next morning, whether they have developed feelings for me or not.
His hand tightened around the slender part of the bottle and he turned from the cupboard, moving from the deep pantry and returning to the kitchen. Before he broke it, he set the bottle on the counter and released the cork from the bottle, throwing the opener in the sink listlessly. Taking wine glass and wine into the den, he settled on the couch and poured himself some wine. It had been years since he last drank as much as he intended to this night.
Why, some people ask, is Yami Mutou such a nice, polite pianist? He thought bitterly as he drank deeply, pouring another glass. What is he really like? What is he like behind closed doors, when he's alone? He let out a low, merciless chuckle and whispered to himself, "A man that isn't a man at all."
Once again, he filled his empty glass, drifting down into a familiar oblivion.
--
Anzu woke late the next morning and was surprised that Yami hadn't called her. She fumbled with her cell phone, making certain that he hadn't. Seeing that she had no missed calls, she laid back in bed and wondered if he had decided to give her the morning off. As she laid there, quiet and without many happy thoughts, she considered over her options. There was nothing to do that day: it been some time since her father last called her, Shizuka still refused to come from her room, and Otogi, although back at his own home, had not opened his instrument shop since his encounter with Jou. Things were not going well in the city of Domino and Anzu knew it well.
I can't fix everything, she thought, but I can at least warn daddy about...about that woman who is in town. After that, I'll call Yami and see if we can't make up the practice later on today. I think I can miss a day at the café. Cheered slightly by these plans, she dialed her father's phone number and was rewarded with his aging rumble of, "Hello."
"Daddy," she greeted quietly, feeling strangely shy over the phone with him. She was no longer irritated by his irrational reaction towards Yami now that she was aware of where his hate for pianists stemmed from. "Daddy...She's in town. I mean...mother. She is in town."
"...Sakura is in town?" He questioned in a tone of shocked disbelief.
Anzu nodded, but remembered that he couldn't see her. "Yes, she was at my rehearsal yesterday." Her hand tightened around the tiny cell phone pressed to her ear and she clenched her eyes tight, trying to push the awful memory of that awkward encounter from her mind. A soft, soothing voice entered her mind and she smiled slightly, recalling how Yami had been at her side the entire incident. The feel of his warm hands clasping her shoulders had calmed her shaken nerves and even after Anzu had left the stage, he had remained to tell off her mother. If he hadn't been there...If I had been forced to face her alone...What would have happened? And poor daddy – I hope she doesn't go after him next. He wouldn't have someone there to support him. It would be unbearable.
"Anzu? Are you alright?" Her father's voice interrupted her thoughts and she licked her lips quickly, surprised at how they had become dry so quickly.
"Of course, daddy, I'm fine." She hesitated and then quietly said, "Yami isn't like the pianist she ran off with. I...I would have broke down if he hadn't been there with me. He told her off and threw her off balance. I don't think she expected him to get involved." Her father sighed quietly on the other end.
"I intended to tell you all about that, Anzu, but you weren't talking to me. I figured that it might justify my actions somewhat. I'm sorry I never told you sooner. It's just...You and Sakura are so alike. She was a dance instructor before we married and eventually forgot all about dance by the time she gave birth to you and started her new job. She didn't want the life I offered her. I was afraid that Yami might hurt you. People in the music career generally don't have any permanent relationships."
"Yami isn't like that," was Anzu's obstinate response.
"I withhold judgment," her father replied just as stubbornly. There was a short pause before Anzu spoke.
"Daddy. When she comes, will you be okay by yourself?"
"...Thank you, angel, for worrying, but I'll be just fine." Anzu smiled sadly at the warmth that surrounded his tone. "Goodbye, Anzu."
"Bye, daddy." She hung up and sighed to herself as she fell back against her bed. She stared at the ceiling for a long time, holding her cell phone to her chest thoughtfully. After a pause, she browsed through her contacts and then dialed Yami's number. Rolling on her stomach, she waited while the phone rang. Frowning, Anzu looked at the tiny screen to make certain she had dialed the right number. This is strange, she mused. Yami always answers his phone and always has it on him... His voicemail popped on: "You've reached Yami Mutou. I'm busy at the moment, so please leave a message and your name and number. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."
Anzu hesitated as she was given the option of leaving a callback number. Just after the beep, she hung up and snapped her phone closed. I don't like it, she decided, leaping up and hurrying to the bathroom. I'll go check in on him since he's not answering his phone. As far as I know, he doesn't have anything going on today and he would tell me otherwise.
--
Anzu stepped out of her car and glanced to the sleek automobile beside hers. There was no doubt that it was Yami's car. Knowing his distaste for taxis, she assumed he was at home. He's an early riser, too, so he should be awake... Why didn't he answer the phone, though? Even if he was practicing, he would have answered the phone. Ugh, I really don't like this!! Anzu shut the door and let her eyes wander over the neighborhood. It was only some ways away from downtown Domino and this particular neighborhood shouted, "Wealthy!" to everyone that happened upon it. She suspected it was mostly the prospering musicians and elderly that inhabited the homes here by the utter stillness and quiet of the streets.
Hitching her purse on her shoulder, she moved up the walk towards the porch. She stepped up to the door and rang the doorbell, stepping back to wait patiently. There was no response and the unease that had been festering ever since that morning increased. She rang the doorbell once more and banged on the door, uncomfortable with how loud it seemed in the silence that surrounded her. When there was still no response, she tried the door and cursed under her breath at how it barely moved. Locked, she thought sullenly. She stepped away from the porch and eyed the front. It would be too obvious if I broke in from the front. I'll go try the back instead.
Circling around to the back, climbing the fence and snagging her pants in the process, she paused briefly to take in the utter beauty of the backyard. A tiny pond was stationed in the very back and a weeping willow tree hung over it and the stone walkway around it. Turning from it to look at the patio, Anzu started towards the French doors that stood in the middle. She tried them and blinked as the handle went down obligingly. Quietly, she swung the door inward and crept inside, closing it noiselessly behind her. Anzu stood on the threshold a moment, taking in the utter silence of the home. A chill went up her spine, raising the hairs on the nape of her neck and on her arms. "Yami?" She called into the looming hush that fell around her. Receiving no response, she left the dining room, which she was in, to enter the kitchen. She gave a puzzled frown, noticing that the pantry was wide open.
She moved through the wide kitchen to the den and noticed a half glass of wine and an empty bottle overturned on the coffee table. Anzu froze, turning quickly and then returning to stare at the table. With utter cautiousness, she walked towards the couch and peered down onto it. Feeling the colour drain from her face, she rushed forward and knelt next to Yami, taking his pulse to ascertain that he wasn't dead. Thank God, she thought in relief, feeling a sluggish pulse beat beneath her cool fingers. I hope it's only the alcohol that has his pulse so slow. She eyed him and satisfied he hadn't been stabbed, flipped her phone open and called Otogi.
"Hello, Ryuuji Otogi here," a voice answered with a generous yawn afterward.
"Otogi, this is Anzu. I'm at Yami's. There's something wrong with him."
"What?" Alarm jumped in the male's voice. "What do you mean?"
"I...I don't know. I called earlier and when he didn't pick up, I dropped by his house and came in through the back. It looks like he's been drinking a lot, but I'm...I'm not sure if he was poisoned or – "
"Oh, I see," Otogi interrupted in a calmer, but sad tone. There was a long pause in which Anzu's fingers itched to hang up on him and call 9-1-1 just to be safe. When she was preparing to do just that, his voice returned, weary, despondent, and exasperated all at the same time, "Listen, Anzu, Yami goes through these episodes every once in awhile. He'll sleep it off and when he wakes up, he'll be in a bit of a strange mood, but other than that, he's sure to be fine after awhile." She sat, stunned at this information.
"I would feel better if I were here when he woke up," she said slowly.
"Go ahead," Otogi offered with a flippant tone to his voice. "It's your time, not mine." He hung up and she glared at the phone, snapping it closed irritably.
Of all the nerve! She thought furiously. This is his friend and he acts as if nothing's wrong in the least! Anzu paused at that thought. Well, maybe nothing is wrong, but I don't like the idea of leaving Yami alone in this empty house after he's drunk himself to sleep. Why would he do such a thing, anyway? And what did Otogi mean by "episodes"? Shaking her head, Anzu tossed her phone and purse on the chair and collected the bottle and wine glass, taking them to the kitchen, throwing the bottle away and washing the glass. She returned to light the fireplace with its artificial, warming fire and sat down to wait.
--
Yami awoke, and his head was pounding with a horrible headache. He blinked once and then closed his eyes again to dull the pain in his temples. When it didn't ache as much, he noticed that he wasn't in as bad of sorts as usual. The room around him was warm contrary to the coldness it should have been. His body wasn't hanging from the couch, but fully on the couch and quite comfortable. The only thing that bothered him was his head. He slowly sat up and winced at the needles that pierced his skull. He opened his eyes and after they focused, he noticed the fireplace was lit up and the light in the den was on. He turned his gaze around and started in surprise, seeing Anzu curled up on the sofa seat.
Vaguely, Yami wondered how she had gotten in, but recalled his neglect to lock the French doors. Sighing, he stood up and rubbed his face, trudging to the kitchen for some aspirin. The light was on in there, too, so he wasn't given the arduous task of having to find it in his muddled state of mind. After he took the aspirin, he left back to the den and stood beside the seat that Anzu was slumbering in, gazing down at her with a curious expression. She really is, he reflected, too good for me. He reached down and brushed the hair from her face before sighing and shaking her gently. "Anzu," he murmured, his voice hoarse from his alcohol-induced sleep. "Anzu, wake up."
"Oh," she murmured as her eyes focused on his, "you're awake." She pushed a hand through her hair as he stepped back and leaned against the arm of his couch. "I came by since you weren't answering your phone and saw you lying here. I thought you had been poisoned or something at first and..." She trailed off, blushing at her rambling. "Sorry." Yami smiled pleasantly, although tiredly.
"It's fine, Anzu. Thank you for waiting for me, but it was unnecessary. How did you deduce I hadn't been poisoned, by the way?" Anzu didn't reply immediately, seeming reluctant to answer.
"I called Otogi," she confessed, "and he said it was nothing I should worry about."
"And he is very right," Yami assured with a steady smile. She saw the shadows in his eyes, though, and the tension in his body. She looked away, towards the fireplace and the artificial flames. After a moment, she raised her eyes to his and stood. He gave her a puzzled look as she approached him. She shifted and then went to him, putting her arms around his waist, her cheek resting on his shoulder. He was motionless a moment before enveloping her in his warm, long arms. Anzu closed her eyes against the tears that rose in her eyes. She wasn't entirely sure why they came, but knew she didn't want Yami to see them. She was dimly aware of how different this was than the one time Yami had hugged her. It wasn't brief, nor was it a hug that was presented with one arm.
She suddenly realized that the scents she had attributed to the theater, to the piano, and the stage were actually his own. The lulling smell of aging papers from sheet music, the twang of wine, and a spice that was either from his cologne or something else was all him. Her arms tightened instinctively because she knew that she wanted more of these embraces and to be able to know he was there simply by the mixture of delicious, foreign scents that clung to him. Even as her arms tightened around him, his were like a blanket around her, tight and secure. His face was pressed against her exposed neck and his
breath drifted through her hair and over her skin in gentle waves. Anzu smiled to herself, because for once in a very long time, she was completely content.
X
DIS: I especially liked that scene at the end of the chapter. I had suffered an unholy period of writer's block on this story, but it's better now. I really am liking this Yami/Anzu romance! It sucks that I only recently discovered the awesomeness of it, lol.