Summary: a shounen-ai (um, yaoi possibly, depending on my mood, I suppose… I don't think ahead enough) retelling of Rapunzel. Mind you, it might not seem like it now…
Part: 2/? I have no idea how many parts it's going to be... I thought four, but this thing keeps making itself longer and longer!
Warnings: Mean-ish Koushiro/Mimi (but if you're reading this, you read the last chapter!), eventual Yamasuke (again, I'll remind you that this means that there will be love between Daisuke and Yamato, the man who practically raised him. Creepy? Yes. Do I care? Not really.).
Tower
By Six
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The late evening and early morning hours passed tersely for Koushiro as he held and rocked Daisuke in his arms. Even with his new, wrinkled skin and less-than-round head, Koushiro thought his son couldn't be more perfect. Every finger, every toe, every hair on his head just seemed so right. Occasionally the distressed father woke his displeased wife (who had begrudgingly agreed to nurse the neglected child) from her fitful slumber in their bedroom. Koushiro's heart bled when he thought about his beloved wife in pain in the next room, but he didn't want his son to spend his only night at home alone. Mimi always left the room quickly after Daisuke finished eating, never giving herself time to bond with him. Mimi despised Daisuke's very existence and hated the thought of actually coming to care for the child. Her absence left Koushiro alone with his sleeping son and guilty thoughts. The chair he was sitting in creaked softly as time passed, but the red-haired man never noticed it.
When the sun mockingly peeked above the horizon, a brilliant display of gray-blue and yellow hovering so perfectly in the sky, Koushiro swathed the newborn child more securely in his little, blue blanket, planting a kiss on his reddish-pink forehead, and headed out the door quietly. He didn't bothered telling Mimi he was leaving: as much as it hurt him, he knew she wouldn't care.
The walk from the semi-peace of his warm chair in the living room to the foreboding cold of the fortuneteller's house was quick: much quicker than the tense father would have liked it to be. He felt as if his heart hadn't beat once before he was in front of the fortuneteller's door, once again examining the strange, carved design. Koushiro sighed tiredly, tearing his eyes away from the door long enough to stare into his son's bright, red-brown eyes. The innocent, trusting expression so easily held in the bright orbs was enough to break his heart.
Koushiro knocked on the fortuneteller's door timidly, a feeling in his gut screaming for him to turn around and go home. To protect the pure, young life he held so tightly to his chest. But fear for his wife and himself cemented his feet in place. He would never put his wife in danger, no matter the cost. Even if he had to sacrifice his only son to his mysterious neighbor, he would do it for his wife. Seconds dripped by thickly, before the door slowly crept open, revealing Yamato standing in the syrupy darkness inside. The fortuneteller scowled at the sight of Koushiro standing so quietly at his door with his son.
"What is your business here?" he demanded, ice-blue eyes drifting down to look at the snugly wrapped baby. Yamato found a small, unanticipated smile trying to creep up on his face and forced himself to look away from the child in Koushiro's arms. He reminded himself to be cold: to be ice. Untouchable. He didn't need another person to rip away a section of his heart.
"I've brought you our child, Daisuke, as you have asked, fortuneteller," said Koushiro, his voice betraying his apprehension. With his head bowed, he gently placed the child in Yamato's reluctant hold. For a moment, Yamato had no idea what to do. He could feel the soft, up and down rhythm of the baby's chest as he breathed. Hesitantly, the blond curled his arms around Daisuke, pulling the small child closer to his harsh-white robes. Looking down at the reddish-pink bundle of soft skin, tiny hands and fuzzy hair, Yamato felt his heart pang unexpectedly. Something felt so right about holding Daisuke, like nothing he had felt before. It was warm: comforting, somehow. A feeling he never wanted to stop...
Unsuspecting to the events taking place, Daisuke stared up at the new face above him, red eyes shining in the dewy, morning sun. Yamato reached his hand towards the blanket, moving it away from Daisuke's head so he could see his face fully. The fortuneteller's hand met the bare skin of Daisuke's cheek and he felt like he had been struck. Flashes of images and emotions tore through Yamato's mind.
A wailing cry. Misery. A tower surrounded by red. Change. Seasons changing. Flowers blooming. Pain. Crumbling. Blood spattered walls. Darkness. Drowning. And then nothing...
The intensity of the moment shook the fortuneteller and for a moment, he forgot where he was. His eyes still held the glazed-over, far away look that they got when he was "blessed" with a foretelling. Images from the vision played themselves over and over through his mind in slur of fast motion until he felt like he was going to fall apart. Yamato squeezed his eyes shut, praying for the sight to leave him. The pain he felt in those few moments was so profound, so passionate, that he was overwhelmed with the emotion and felt like weeping for the first time in many, many years.
Several frantic, shuddering breaths brought air back into his lungs and cleared his cloudy, vision-struck mind. His surroundings slid back into focus and Yamato found himself clinging to Daisuke as the child let out a piercing cry. Yamato felt that the sharp howl expressed his feelings completely.
"Fortuneteller, are you alright?" asked Koushiro fearfully. He had watched in worry as the man before him seemed to shift out and then back in to the world, as if crazed or possessed. Even now, pale blue eyes focused and open, breathing normally, Koushiro didn't think Yamato looked quite right. The redhead felt like he had missed out on something phenomenally important. Yamato's arms shook as he brusquely shoved Daisuke back to his father.
"Of course I'm alright," he said irritably, already feeling the headache that always came after a particularly strong vision, "But I will not take your child."
For a moment, Yamato questioned himself. He couldn't take the child? Those parents had stupidly promised it to him, so why shouldn't he take it?
Because you've seen his future. He shook his head, blonde hair fluttering about as he tried to will the throbbing pain away. He wasn't hiding from the pain, he told himself, willing his mind to clear, he just didn't want the child.
"Please, fortuneteller! Do not forsake my wife and I! Take our child and leave us in peace!" Koushiro begged loudly, practically sobbing. His face clearly showed the frantic worry he was feeling for his beloved and himself. If the fortuneteller would not take his child, he did not know what else he could offer!
"Quiet!" Yamato yelled, rubbing at his temples roughly. Immediately Koushiro became silent, but the pain in Yamato's head would not leave. The wind blew, ruffling Yamato's hair and the tall plants that grew near his door. His mind felt heavy, but the fortuneteller tried to keep his calm.
"I will not take your child now. I have neither the resources nor the experience to take care of such a young life. I will be there to take him when he is older and can be of use to me. Until then, you will be trusted to raise the child with my blessing. Go now, before I get angry."
Yamato's voice was stern and Koushiro felt an unsurpassed sense of relief flood his being.
"Thank you, fortuneteller! Thank you! You will not regret your kindness!"
Grasping his son tightly, Koushiro hurried home, almost fearing what his wife would have to say. But moreover, he was overjoyed to be able to hold Daisuke again, even if he was going to be ripped away from him in the future. The redhead silently wondered when and how the young child would be of use to the fortuneteller. He silently chastised himself. Now was not the time to be thinking about distressful things like that. He had his son, and for the time being, that was all that mattered.
Yamato watched Koushiro until he quietly shut his door, doubting he'd done the right thing. He'd taken care of the situation for now, but eventually he'd be expected to take their poor child away from his parents. The fortuneteller didn't like the thought of robbing the boy of his parents. No matter how selfish and uncaring for him they were, they were always going to be his parents: the beings who had brought life to him. Yamato wondered what had possessed him to say he would take the boy at all, especially after the vision he'd had when he'd touched the child. I just wanted to tell the father something to leave me to my isolation, he finally decided, the day when I'm supposed to take the child never has to come.
And with that thought, Yamato stepped back into the sanctuary of his house, reminding himself that his foretelling had told him that taking Koushiro and Mimi's child could only bring pain. He ignored the feeling in his heart that told him that he wanted to be with the child, no matter the pain of the future.
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That night, in the candle-lit dimness of his home, Yamato sat silently in his chair, meditating. He prayed that the gods would gift the tiny child he had held that day the strength he'd need to overcome the horrible future he had seen. As if in answer to his prayers, the single candle in the room suddenly went out, plunging the house into darkness. Taking it as a sign (though whether good or bad, he did not know), Yamato climbed into his bed and fell into a deep sleep. That night, he dreamed of red eyes, too.
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Each day the sun rose and then set in a blaze of color that screamed to be remembered and each night the moon watched as the seasons changed. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and in no time, the baby that Koushiro had promised to the fortuneteller had learned his first words and taken his first steps. Early on, Koushiro had decided to distance himself from his son, knowing that he'd have to give him up in the future. But that never stopped him from watching proudly, and a bit in awe, as his son grew bright and strong.
The fortuneteller watched Daisuke, too. The boy was always playing outside, often alone, as Koushiro had to work and Mimi never wanted to be around the child who had haunted her dreams before his own birth. With no one else watching the child, Yamato felt it was only right that he peek out one of his windows every now and again and make sure the poor boy was all right. Daisuke was rightfully his, after all. And when the blond began to spend several minutes at a time staring out the window with a 'slap-me-I'm-happy' look on his face, he told himself that he was just admiring the nice day (even though he had the same expression on his face when it was stormy and rotten outside). And when he'd finally moved his desk in front of a window with a particularly nice view of the yard across from it, conveniently allowing the fortuneteller to watch Daisuke almost all day, Yamato decided that it was just better for his eyes to be reading in the bright sun instead of the dim, yellowed light from his lamp.
And so most days passed: Koushiro working tiredly, Mimi lying in her bed weeping, Daisuke outside playing alone, and Yamato watching.
When, after a couple years has passed, the child tired of the slightly wilted flowers and bushy green plants of his own backyard, and wandered into the more exotic yard next door, Yamato couldn't ignore the pull the lured him outside and to the little boy wandering in his fruit trees. He had kept a watchful eye on Daisuke for years, and now that the child was creeping closer, the need to acknowledge his presence was overpowering. Slipping out his backdoor, the blond silently slinked across the yard and into the small grove of trees, robes trailing out behind him on the grass. Slowly he approached Daisuke, who was crouching on the ground, his back turned to the fortuneteller. Briefly, Yamato wondered what he was going to say, or even why he was outside when every part of his rational mind told him to go back to his desk and do his work in solitude. But before he knew it, the words just poured forth.
"Hello, Daisuke. Enjoying my yard?"
The child, startled by the sudden, unexpected voice, tipped forward clumsily. Awkwardly, and with the lacking grace of his years, Daisuke reached his hands out to halt his impending fall. Unfortunately, his attempt was futile, and the growing boy landed in a confused heap on the ground, several browning leaves trapped in his spiked hair, and one short, little finger trickling out several drops of blood into the dirt below. Yamato watched the fumbling child with a mix of amusement and concern displayed across his face.
"Oww!!" the child cried, suckling the bleeding digit in his mouth delicately. The sharp sting in his finger was almost enough to make him forget about what had caused him to fall, but, while whimpering to himself in pain, Daisuke's tear-brimmed eyes caught sight of the fortuneteller's stark white robes spread across the ground. Dragging his eyes up the tall form, the boy's mouth fell open in unmasked awe. He had never seen someone quite like the man in the robes. His mother had warned him often enough, venom in her voice and ice in her eyes, to stay away from the demon-man next door and to never, ever talk to him, but when Daisuke's stare finally met that of the beautiful man's ocean-blue, oddly humored eyes, he couldn't help the words that tumbled from his mouth.
"You're not a demon!" he exclaimed childishly, eyes impossibly large as he stared unabashedly at the person who had startled him. Daisuke wondered if perhaps he'd be in trouble for intruding in his neighbor's yard. He hadn't really meant to wander in, but one moment he was in his own yard, where he had spent the greater portion of his young life, and the next, he was in his neighbor's flourishing, green grove of fruit trees. He hoped the man wouldn't be terribly mad, as he hadn't really meant any harm and he hadn't trampled any of the bushes or flowers (his mother was always in a dreadful temper when he did that at home).
For a moment, Yamato was stunned; hardly believing what the child had said. Then his eyes crinkled gracefully, mouth lifting up ever so slightly on the sides to form a quiet, half-smile.
"No," he said mirthfully, "Indeed I'm not quite a demon. I'm a fortuneteller, among other things."
"You have a very nice yard, Mr. Fortuneteller," Daisuke said softly as he arranged himself into a sitting position on the ground, looking down at the leaves that littered the base of the tree. He still wasn't sure if the pretty man was going to yell at him. Yamato noticed that the tree Daisuke was sitting in front of was the very same apple tree that Koushiro had stolen the fruit from. Somehow, it seemed right to him that Daisuke would find this tree, among all the others.
"Mr. Fortuneteller is too formal. My name is Yamato, and I'm pleased to meet you, Daisuke."
In his naive simplicity and relief that the man was, indeed, not upset, Daisuke never thought to question why the next-door neighbor, who he had never remembered meeting, knew his name. Instead, the red-haired child said the fortuneteller's name slowly and softly, as if testing the way it felt on his tongue. "Yamato."
The one word, a word he hadn't heard said out loud by another person in years, made Yamato's heart clench agonizingly. Fighting the inane urge to ask that it be said again, the fortuneteller crouched down beside the boy so that they were eye-level with each other.
"Do you like playing outside, Daisuke?"
Daisuke nodded his head twice, a large grin breaking out on his face, "I like it very much!"
"Why do you always play by yourself?" the fortuneteller asked. It was something that had bothered him for years as he watched out his window. There were never any other children outside to play with Daisuke, and though he often isolated himself, Yamato felt that it just didn't seem right for a child to not have any friends.
Daisuke looked around, red eyes widening slightly.
"Mother doesn't let me play around the other kids. She doesn't want them to find out," he said conspiringly.
"Find out what?" Yamato asked, more than a little confused.
Daisuke looked around again, a bit guiltily, and when he spoke, his voice held much fear, "If I show you, will you promise not to tell Mother? She'd be very angry at me and I don't want her to be angry again."
"It'll be our secret," Yamato agreed steadily. Inside though, he was speculating what the boy's mother did when she was angry that made him fear it so much. Just the thought of something bad happening to Daisuke made Yamato's hands clench irately. In the years since he'd had the foretelling of Daisuke's future, the blond had grown quite fond of to the small child who sat in the dirt all day and always had a pure, unadulterated smile on his face. Had he analyzed the feeling any further, Yamato would have realized that even then, having barely known Daisuke but feeling considerably intimate with him, he would have done anything to protect the child from harm, no matter the consequences to himself.
Daisuke was almost perfectly still for a moment, as if considering if Yamato's words were true, before he held out the finger that he had injured in his fall earlier. Yamato noted that the bleeding had stopped, but a small line of scab had formed in the tanned skin on the back of the small digit. Agonizingly slow, at least for the fortuneteller, Daisuke slid his uninjured hand over the one with the small cut. Eyes closed tightly, as if in deep concentration, the boy grasped the wounded finger forcefully. Yamato blinked rapidly, in complete confusion as to what the boy could possibly be doing. While Yamato was still pondering on the situation, Daisuke slumped down, thoroughly exerted at the effort he had expended. His hand slid away from the injured finger, revealing the unmarked skin of the finger that had previously been scabbing up.
"It's gone," Yamato commented, forgetting in shock his hate for stating the obvious. What the boy had shown him was simply amazing! Daisuke nodded half-heartedly, still breathing a bit hard and feeling dizzy from the effort used to heal the cut.
"It takes lots and lots of work for me to do it, but sometimes it happens when I'm not thinking about it. Mother doesn't let me play with the other kids because she's afraid that they'll find out. Please don't tell Mother that you know. She says that my deformity makes everyone hate her," Daisuke confessed, practically in tears.
Passing over his usual cold, unaffected attitude towards other's pain and feeling the need to make the small child's sadness go away, Yamato was quick to speak, "I promise I won't tell anyone about your gift, Daisuke."
Having never heard his ability to heal called anything positive, Daisuke almost felt like grinning. Yamato was a lot nicer than his mother had told him. Noting the large improvement in the redhead's disposition towards his quiet, sincere words, Yamato went on, "In fact, I have a similar gift. Would you like to see it?"
Looking up through blurry eyes, Daisuke nodded slowly. Encouraged by the boy's lightening of mood, the fortuneteller kneeled on the ground next to him. Finding a discarded flower seed buried under a mass of leaves, he dug it into the ground and covered it in rich, black dirt. He held both hands over the seed, concentrating deeply. Daisuke watched in fascination as a small bit of green unbelievably poked from the earth. Following the upward movement of the fortuneteller's hands, the plant grew towards the sky, leaves unfurling and expanding out. From out of the leaves, a blossom sprung, unfolding into a flourishing, vibrantly colored flower. Daisuke's eyes widened with joy. He'd never seen anything as wonderful as that!
But just as quickly as it had come, the flower browned, wilting miserably, and died.
Reaching out a finger, Daisuke carefully touched the dried out skeleton of the flower. Beneath his fingers, it crumbled into nothingness. Saddened at the loss of the flower, yet awed at Yamato's ability, Daisuke stared at the fortuneteller.
"How did you do that?" he asked.
Yamato considered his answer. "Like you... sometimes, it just happens without me noticing, but most of the time, I have to concentrate especially hard and transfer my life energy into it."
"Life energy?" asked Daisuke, face screwing up cutely with his confusion.
"Life energy is," Yamato paused, searching for an answer that the boy could understand, "It's… you know how tired and worn out you were after you healed your cut?"
Daisuke nodded eagerly, trying to grasp what the older man was speaking about.
"Well you felt like that because you used your life energy to heal it. I used to feel the same way when I was first learning how to use my gifts. In time, you'll grow used to it, I imagine," said Yamato with a smile, looking down at Daisuke. He had to resist the impulsive desire to ruffle the boy's hair.
"I think I get it..." Daisuke said finally.
Smiling even wider, Yamato said, "It's getting late. You should probably go home if you don't want to be in trouble with your mother, Daisuke."
He had watched the boy out his window enough to know when Daisuke's mother would expect him inside.
"But, you know," Yamato continued, feeling strangely self-conscious at what he was trying to say, "If you wanted to, you could come back to my yard tomorrow and I could show you some other things."
The red-haired boy looked up at the man towards whom he felt a strange sense of enchantment and friendship. A large grin broke out on the boy's face and he nodded vigorously.
"I'll be here! Goodbye, Mr. Fortu-," started Daisuke, heading back for his own yard and house, "Yamato, I mean. Goodbye, Yamato."
The fortuneteller watched the boy run back home, feeling a faint sense of loss as the boy got further and further away. When he finally disappeared, Yamato turned away, heading back to his own house. Trying unsuccessfully to stop grinning so brightly, the blond couldn't help but look forward to being able to spend more time with Daisuke the next day.
As he closed his own front door and settled back down to his table to work, the fortuneteller's prediction of Daisuke's future was the furthest thing from his mind.
TBC...
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Mmm... this part was paced way too fast for my liking, but it's been sitting around for too long and I'm tired of not having it done, so it's going to have to do. I hope you enjoyed the fic nonetheless and that you like the way the story is progressing. The next part should (emphasis on should) be out a lot sooner than this one, as long as inspiration doesn't try to run away on me again. Or if someone bothers me about it for a while. Comments, criticism, and one hundred and seven million dollars in small, unmarked bills are all appreciated.