The funeral was the next day.
Yukiyo had clung to him, sobbing into the folds of his traditional black gi. She had sobbed and cried, her tears as much from her as from the tall man supporting her. And indeed, he was supporting her, for if he had stepped back the slightest breath of air would have left her on her knees.
She was broken.
As the monks waved their staffs in the air to ward off the evil spirits, Hannya cursed himself. Why could he not cry? Why was he unable to weep like the rest of the village? Like Yukiyo? How could he have so much control over his emotions?
I've had some mental training, he realized, remembering previous discussions with Takamura-san about the monks of some temples who could watch unspeakable horrors and still stand emotionless on the outside, churning on the inside. A mask of emotions, Takamura-san had called it. Like the mask he wore, and never removed. The elder man had then gravely told Hannya that he should not remove the mask until he was ready to face what was under it.
But there would be no more discussions, no more friendly afternoons sipping tea, no more anything.
Not for Takamura.
As the monk at the head of the procession lit the arrangement of timber beneath the kind old man's body, the full reality of his short-time but true friend, the man who had saved his life and cared for him like he was family, came like a slap in the face to Hannya. Seeing the flames begin to lick at the deceased doctor, Yujiyo cried out and began sobbing harder than ever.
The smoke rose, and after it was over Hannya had carried the dazed young woman back to her newly inherited estate. It was all hers now; actually, the will had left a portion to Hannya too. It had come as a great surprise to everyone, but was generally accepted after Yukiyo had insisted on it, saying that Hannya deserved every inch of it.
Now they would share it, this big, empty house, so cold and dark without the light and warmth of Takamura's kind laughter and hearty singing and jokes. This whole estate seemed a sorry replacement indeed for the caring doctor, father, mentor.
Yukiyo had dozed off before they had reached the main building, and Hannya carefully slipped her shoes and hair things off, washed away her makeup and tucked her into bed.
What will we do now, he thought somberly.
Shaking his head, he reprimanded himself for his foolishness. There's only one thing that I could do; I can't just leave her alone like this. His mind was now focused, his path from here clear as crystal.
I'm staying with her. For as long as it takes, he resolved firmly.
Reaching his room, Hannya changed into his sleeping robe and knelt in front of his futon. His hands reflexively went up to feel his mask, the thin sheet of carved wood that separated him from the seeing eyes of the outside world. From everyone who called him friend, from everyone who didn't.
This mask is a joke. And with that thought in his mind, he ripped it off and tossed it into a corner.
Settling under his bedsheets, Hannya closed his eyes and went to sleep, drifting off to a fairy tale place.
The morning never seemed so far off.
~~~~
5:32 PM (EDT) Monday, September 17th, 2001. -TBO~~ Please read and review!! Arigato gozaimasu, minna~!! ^^o ^__^V"
~~~~
Yukiyo had clung to him, sobbing into the folds of his traditional black gi. She had sobbed and cried, her tears as much from her as from the tall man supporting her. And indeed, he was supporting her, for if he had stepped back the slightest breath of air would have left her on her knees.
She was broken.
As the monks waved their staffs in the air to ward off the evil spirits, Hannya cursed himself. Why could he not cry? Why was he unable to weep like the rest of the village? Like Yukiyo? How could he have so much control over his emotions?
I've had some mental training, he realized, remembering previous discussions with Takamura-san about the monks of some temples who could watch unspeakable horrors and still stand emotionless on the outside, churning on the inside. A mask of emotions, Takamura-san had called it. Like the mask he wore, and never removed. The elder man had then gravely told Hannya that he should not remove the mask until he was ready to face what was under it.
But there would be no more discussions, no more friendly afternoons sipping tea, no more anything.
Not for Takamura.
As the monk at the head of the procession lit the arrangement of timber beneath the kind old man's body, the full reality of his short-time but true friend, the man who had saved his life and cared for him like he was family, came like a slap in the face to Hannya. Seeing the flames begin to lick at the deceased doctor, Yujiyo cried out and began sobbing harder than ever.
The smoke rose, and after it was over Hannya had carried the dazed young woman back to her newly inherited estate. It was all hers now; actually, the will had left a portion to Hannya too. It had come as a great surprise to everyone, but was generally accepted after Yukiyo had insisted on it, saying that Hannya deserved every inch of it.
Now they would share it, this big, empty house, so cold and dark without the light and warmth of Takamura's kind laughter and hearty singing and jokes. This whole estate seemed a sorry replacement indeed for the caring doctor, father, mentor.
Yukiyo had dozed off before they had reached the main building, and Hannya carefully slipped her shoes and hair things off, washed away her makeup and tucked her into bed.
What will we do now, he thought somberly.
Shaking his head, he reprimanded himself for his foolishness. There's only one thing that I could do; I can't just leave her alone like this. His mind was now focused, his path from here clear as crystal.
I'm staying with her. For as long as it takes, he resolved firmly.
Reaching his room, Hannya changed into his sleeping robe and knelt in front of his futon. His hands reflexively went up to feel his mask, the thin sheet of carved wood that separated him from the seeing eyes of the outside world. From everyone who called him friend, from everyone who didn't.
This mask is a joke. And with that thought in his mind, he ripped it off and tossed it into a corner.
Settling under his bedsheets, Hannya closed his eyes and went to sleep, drifting off to a fairy tale place.
The morning never seemed so far off.
~~~~
5:32 PM (EDT) Monday, September 17th, 2001. -TBO~~ Please read and review!! Arigato gozaimasu, minna~!! ^^o ^__^V"
~~~~