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Cold moonlight poured over him as he lay in bed
thinking. He wondered what he could have done
differently, and why he was being forced to relive the
singularly most painful thing that had ever happened to
him. "It's not fair, " he twisted his sheets around
him as he tossed and turned. "It's not FAIR!" he
pounded the floor dully.
"They didn't even put any consideration into
what I wanted! They didn't care how I felt, even after
I emptied my heart before them!" he shook violently in
his grief. Crystalline shards of his soul slipped
through his eyes. He could feel himself beginning to
not care.
"I won't be what they want me to, " he reasoned
softly, moving to stand by his window. "I have to
change something."
He lay back down as a faint glimmer appeared on
the horizon, coloring the thin panes of paper that were
his walls a sunset-like, shimmery violet-red--a color
that he had all intentions of seeing again, but in a
different place. To hell with family. To hell with
honor.
His sleep was tormented by two sets of
memories--one years old and the other newly trodden. He
mentally replayed Mitsuru's tormented but accepting look
over and over again, a self-abuse he was used to by now.
The scene in which he told Mitsuru the problem remained
fresh in his mind, and he knew it always would.
He and Mitsuru walked slowly to his room, so
they could talk. His lover sat down quietly on his
floor, looking up at him with wide, understanding eyes.
"Mitsuru, I can't--" Shinobu broke off, pain lancing
through him with every word.
"Shh, " Mitsuru pulled him into his arms. "I-I
know. You can't defy your father."
"But--" Shinobu cried into Mitsuru's shirt.
"But you want to. Shin, I know that, too.
I . . . for what it's worth, I wish we had followed your
dream--premonition--and stayed at the dorms, but they
had to know!"
"But . . . "
"But they don't approve. So I'll leave. I have
to, " Mitsuru said softly, the quiet pain in his voice
defying the cool, collected way he was reacting.
"But--!" Shinobu frantically tried after
Mitsuru again, an attempt to make him understand what he
himself did not.
"No buts, " Mitsuru replied shakily. "If I
stay around long enough to listen to them, it will only
hurt more."
"Mitsuru!" Shinobu wailed desperately, reaching
for his lover with quaking hands.
"I love you, Shin, " tears began to overflow
from Mitsuru's emotion-laden eyes as he left the room,
suitcase in hand. "I always will."
Shinobu almost collapsed under the weight of his
pain as his lover's shadow faded away from the paper
walls, and his chest shook with violent sobs.
With a cry, Shinobu jerked up from his bed,
surprised to find himself wrapped in blankets. He tore
them away, cursing himself for falling asleep. How
could he sleep? He shouldn't have the right. He stood
up and walked to his door, kneeling down and opening it
partly. His melancholy was almost tangible as he sat,
watching the bright moon rise into the sky and dominate
it, cold and devoid of life.
The next morning, he acted as though nothing
were wrong. Nagisa, for once, seemed to walk on
eggshells around him, daintily avoiding potentially
painful topics of conversation. His mother's watchful
eye was on him all morning, and he stayed by his
father's deathbed as all devoted sons should. To all
outward appearances, he was the perfect heir. To those
who knew him, he was dead.
It didn't take long for his mother to seek him
out and apologize. Only a full day of his robotic
movements and lifeless mechanical state were needed to
draw full repentance from her. Her eyes were marked
with near horror as he dully, automatically replied that
it was fine, that he was fine.
A few more days of terse conversation and tense
silences were enough to break down the old man's pride.
On his deathbed, pale and wan, he pleaded with his son
to understand his choices. Shinobu's father even went
as far as to revoke the ultimatum, to have his son back.
Shinobu stood aloof of the family, keeping away from
them and their guilt.
The bitter cold on the day of his father's death
played a melody on the angst building within the young
man. He felt slightly guilty when his mother told him
of his father's passing, more at his lack of caring than
at his harsh words. He was guilty because of the way
the sun seemed to peek from behind the clouds at him, at
the way the ice of the day had temporarily thawed. His
mother, now a widow, had spent the day mourning, and he
had sat on his porch staring at the birds in his
favorite tree.
As the minutes ticked away sluggishly, he
watched the birds preen, then move into their warm
winter homes. He shrugged at the unusuality of a bird
in the dead of winter, then blinked it away. Standing
up, he shook the dirt off of his pants and went inside.
He shook his silver hair from his eyes and went
into the hall, where the phone sat on the table at the
entrance. Hesitantly, he traced his fingers along the
keypad, then snapped up the reciever. He dialed a
number, quickly, before he could convince himself not
to. When the other side of the line came to life, he
paused.
"Excuse me?" the tinny voice on the other side
asked. "Are you there?"
"Ah, I'm Shinobu Tezuka, " Shinobu spoke.
"No, he's not here. He's gone to visit his
family, " the voice stated.
"No, I'M Shinobu. May I speak to Mitsuru Ikeda,
please?" he corrected.
"Oh, Shinobu! How nice of you to call. You
know school starts tomorrow. When will your baggage
arrive, or are you bringing it in with you?" the voice
queried cheerfully.
"I doubt I'll be able to make it tomorrow.
There's a good deal of family business to wrap up here,
and it may take a while, " he answered. "May I speak
to Mitsuru?"
"Oh, of course!" he could almost hear the voice
smiling.
Shinobu stood, shifting from foot to foot, until
Mitsuru picked up the phone. "Hello?" Mitsuru
reluctantly asked.
"Mitsuru, " Shinobu breathed lightly, biting
his lip. It was a lot harder than he had thought it
would be, to change history.
"Shin?" the voice at the end hitched slightly,
holding back something.
"Yeah. I, um, won't be in tomorrow. Father
passed away today, " Shinobu brushed a persistant lock
of hair from his face. It was annoying him, causing a
bizzare prickling in his eyes.
An awkward silence settled between them, and
Shinobu took a deep breath. "I guess I should feel
sorry, " Mitsuru replied slowly, his tone strange, "but
I can't really lie. I'm still upset about the way he
treated us."
Shinobu sighed, "I don't blame you. I'm still
upset, too, but that can't really fix any of our
problems. I feel . . . I don't know. Guilty?" he
guessed. "Guilty for not feeling remorse, I suppose."
"I-I know what you mean. Guilt at not feeling
guilty. That's what I felt when your parents first
reacted. I can't regret knowing and loving you,
Shinobu, " Mitsuru admitted.
"I'm glad. I'll be back at school on Thursday,
I believe. I'll see you then. I just called to make
sure that you wouldn't think I had skipped most of the
week because of you, " Shinobu rationalized, a sweet
tenderness coming out of his voice.
"I'll see you then, " Mitsuru's voice smiled
over the line.
"See you, " Shinobu replied as he hung up. He
felt vaguely pleased with himself, and he went straight
to his room to pack.
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