A Hanadan Carol
Part Five and final
in other words, "the sap flows free..."
The nurse is courtesy of Boys Be. The reggae man, HYD Vol. 9. And the taxi driver, oh, I don't know... maybe he's the taxi driver from FY. :grin:
Oh, man, does this ending suck. Oh well. Happy Merries and Merry Happies to everyone.
~~~
Dimness. A dull gray dot of consciousness buried in waves of oblivion. An existence trapped in a shell, thrown far away, far back into a void. Forgotten.
But with a gleam, a single tear, a drop of water with the scent of longing keen on its surface, filters in through the tiniest of cracks and glistens. Bringing the first daylight to this dark place it has seen in so long.
Might there be hope of resurrection?
And then the word is spoken. Not merely a word, but an incantation. A spell to bring forth light. A reverberating prayer. Come back to life, it pleads. Complete me.
"MAKINO."
And the Tsukasa within Tsukasa is released.
He grasps the side of the bed with both hands as his head flies back and his eyes open wide, unblinking, unseeing. Pockets and pools of memory fill in. Wild rushing waves of words he's said, things he's done, places he's been crash over him in powerful blows that bring trembling and tears. He shudders with the force of it, crying in mourning for what he's lost, crying in relief for what he's regained, crying in joy for what he now knows. And after the agony comes a blessed calm, a gentle doze that brings him back to reality again. He awakens at the first light of dawn, thinking of her, and feeling whole once more.
It is Christmas morning, and Tsukasa remembers.
~
Miyuki was hardly expecting her patient to be awake this early, let alone out of bed and fully dressed. But as she prepared breakfast trays in the little alcove just off the fifth floor hall, her head was turned by a rush of color and activity, complete with what she could have sworn was a distinctly curly head of hair on top. Shaking the cobwebs out, she rushed to the hall, barely daring to believe her own eyes.
He had stopped halfway through the hall and was grinning back at her. "Good morning, Miyuki-san. Merry Christmas!"
She rubbed her eyes. "D--Doumyouji-sama...?"
"I have somewhere to go," he said with the air of an excited child. "I'll come back later today. See ya!"
Was this the cranky, spoiled rich boy she'd been taking care of for the past several days? It hardly seemed possible. And at this hour...! "Doumyouji-sa..." she started again. But he was already long gone.
~
The reggae man had fallen asleep on a park bench just outside the hospital's main lobby last night. Folding all his blankets and plastic bags around him, he'd just barely kept the snow from covering him, but pieces of crystal hung in his stringy beard and he was shivering even in sleep. He was roused only by the ever-stronger tapping of running footsteps, energetic and swift, and coming right towards him.
He thought he recognized the fellow with the curly hair, running like a huge, overexcited dog across the sidewalk, but his mind was ever a muddle, and he only looked at newspapers when he was tossing them aside rummaging through trashcans for more worthwhile material. Still, the exuberance bursting from that strange lanky frame was enough to arouse his interest. He stirred from his position, stretched out, and promptly convulsed in a loud sneeze as the cold finally seeped into his lungs.
"Bless you!" called the boy, who seemed to find the action very funny. The reggae man ruefully rubbed his sore nose.
The young man stopped in front of him and held out a little white cloth. "Use this," he said, smiling despite the cold air nipping his cheeks. "Merry Christmas."
And then, just like that, the boy was off and running again. The reggae man had no time to find his voice and thank him - to those old bleary eyes he seemed like some sort of bright young angel, flying off on a wintry morning. He cleaned himself off with the pretty white handkerchief, and as he unfolded it, he discovered another slip of paper hidden in it... this one, a 5,000 yen bill.
Getting to his feet, he turned toward the direction the angel had gone and waved. "Thank you!" he exclaimed in a cracked and hoarse... but decidedly happy... voice.
~
The taxi driver was at that moment thinking that his job was decidedly less pleasant than the cab driver's job in "It's a Wonderful Life." He didn't know anyone's names, and no one depended on him. He wasn't friends with the local policeman, and he had no one to sing duets with but the radio. And there was certainly no one around today. The taxi company needed drivers out and available every day and every time, but there was no one who needed a taxi this early in the morning on a holiday. And keeping the engine running wasted company gas and would get taken out of his paycheck. So he was sitting in his taxi, rubbing his hands together to warm them up, all alone on a snowy winter morning.
If the rapping on his window hadn't been quite so persistent, he would have written it off as snow falling from a tree onto the roof of his car. But when it continued for a full ten seconds and never wavered in volume, he looked up and saw an eager, lively face pressed against the passenger-side window. He rolled the windows down.
"You working?" Tsukasa asked the man.
"Won't be until you get in," he replied.
"Then I won't hesitate," said Tsukasa as he swung the door open and came crashing down in the front seat of the cab. Snow blew in with him. The cab driver hurriedly rolled up the window again, shivering. "Sorry," his passenger grinned. "Yamanote, 2-4-5 Daiichi. How much do you make in a day?"
"Eh?" The taximan blinked and froze in mid-twist of the ignition key. "What was that, sir?"
"How much do you make in a day?"
"Well now, that depends on tips and all," was the response. "On a real good day, maybe twenty thousand or so. Why d'you ask?" he added as they pulled out of the space and started to trudge down the snowy road.
"I'll give you forty thousand to hurry."
The car nearly skidded off the street. "WHAT was that?"
"Get me there quick as you can," grinned Tsukasa, "buy your wife some flowers and go home."
"W--what's the occasion, sir?" He was dimly reminded, again, of "It's A Wonderful Life."
"Just got my life back," his customer beamed. "And I don't see why the whole country doesn't celebrate."
The taxi driver stared at him a moment, grinned himself, and stepped on the gas.
~
Tsukushi had been so, so tired last night. She fell asleep still dressed, her arms clutched weakly around the basket of cookies she'd stayed up half the night assembling, body sprawled out only half on her futon. Even before she was awake, the soreness attacked her, and she moaned in her sleep.
Light filtered in through her eyelids, and she thought for a moment it must be morning. But she'd set her alarm clock to go off at eight, and it was still silent, so it couldn't be that late. Burying her face in the pillow, she tried to go back to sleep.
She thought she felt something touch her hair, and she raised a halfhearted hand to bat it away. But it was soothing - a stroking - and she began to believe it was only the sun, only a part of some half-dream she was having. Warm, constant, soothing.
Then there was breath near her ear, not Susumu's rhythm, but strangely familiar. Comforting. Was she dreaming about Doumyouji? She hoped so, and leaned backward into his embrace. Strong arms came around her. Feather-light kisses dotted her ear. This was a lovely dream. "Doumyouji," she let herself say in a lethargic drawl. Her eyes flickered open.
The alarm clock read nine-thirty.
Tsukushi's eyes opened wide, and she moved to get out of this weird dreamlike embrace, but something was holding her back. Someone. It hadn't been a dream - she was being held by arms, comfortable arms, familiar arms, and the hand that had been stroking her hair was really a hand, and this feeling of warmth and shadow over her was...
"Good morning, Makino," whispered the low rumble of a voice she'd doubted she'd ever hear say her name again.
"I'm dreaming," she said loudly, and closed her eyes again.
A soft chuckle, and more kisses. Pressed along her jawline, her cheek. She moaned as they caught her lips. "Good dream," she mumbled, turning her body to meet his.
Oh, God, this was too warm to be a dream.
Her eyes flew open again, and she jerked back. "D... D... Do..."
He put a finger to her lips. "Makino."
"This is a joke," she whispered, growing pale. "Someone put you up to this." He shook his head silently, still smiling. The love radiating from his eyes was something he couldn't have faked, and knowing this, Tsukushi began to tremble. Her eyes filled with tears. "Do you..."
"Remember you?" He finished for her. "Yeah, I remember. Sorry it took me so long."
The tears spilled from her eyes. "R...really?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"Yeah."
Before he could even finish the syllable, her arms were tight around him and she was clinging to him, crying. She whispered his name over and over into the warmth of this place in his arms, this place where she belonged. He laughed and succumbed, toppling them both to the futon, rolling beside her and closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Makino," he whispered. "I'll never leave you alone again. I'm sorry."
She shook her head firmly against him. "Don't apologize," she said in a tear-soaked voice. "You have nothing to be sorry for. This is a miracle."
"Makino--" His brows furrowed and he winced at the sensation of having her in his arms again, full and real and giving. All her warmth, all the patience and pain and hope she'd been holding inside, diffused into him somehow with this embrace, and he felt like he'd taken a piece of her soul into him, bound them together in a way that even memory could not contain. He brought her face up to meet his again, and it was the most honey-sweet and aching of kisses. This time, instead of forgetting only her, he forgot the whole world except for her, and they clung to each other in a world gone white and distant. She was right. This was a miracle.
He dipped to kiss her neck, and she sighed. "Oh, God..." Then the words took on a whole new tone. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed, bolting upright. "Where's Susumu!?"
Tsukasa took a pratfall onto the futon at her sudden change, and righted himself with a painful mutter. "I gave him a few thousand to go take an early morning walk. Would you mind not surprising me like that? I'm still recovering, you know!"
But Tsukushi was fully in business mode. "My job...!"
"Nope," he scowled. "Not allowed. Today is Christmas, it's a day for us to have a Christmas date. No working today."
"But..." Her protests died on her lips as she focused on his obstinate frown. She gave a little smile and looked downward. "You... really... remember me?"
"Right down to the most annoying little detail," he growled, and she laughed. "Get changed and let's go. I'll wait outside."
"But the SPs are..." Her expression changed. "That's right. We don't have to... Doumyouji, your mother gave us a year."
"I know," he said, and she knit her brows in confusion.
"You know? How?!"
He brought his forehead to meet hers and gazed at her with utmost seriousness. Finally, locking eyes with hers, he said in his lowest growl, "A ghost told me."
She hit him with a pillow.
"Ouch!"
"That's what you get!" She scrambled to her feet and stood towering above him. "Out you go, if you want me to get dressed like you said. Go!"
Tsukasa looked up at her. She was pride and fury and amusement, a living whirlwind of complex emotions he couldn't begin to untangle. Only the golden cord of joy and love that shined from her eyes could he understand, yet that was enough to sustain him. She was unforgettable. Now and forever. He would never fear losing her again.
He pulled hard on both her arms, and with a little cry she came sliding back down onto the futon. He covered her lips and her body with his, whispering little maddening promises into her mouth, shuddering with joy when he felt her acquiesce and wrap her arms around him. The sun rose over them as the morning burst into its fullest bloom.
Around them, the city awoke slowly, gently, to the most wondrous, white morning it had ever seen. Children shouted and lovers smiled, holding each other's hands and thinking of promises yet to be spoken. And crystals of snow and crystalline tears shimmered in the daylight as though beating with the pulse of a song. A Christmas carol.
~joy to the world~
Part Five and final
in other words, "the sap flows free..."
The nurse is courtesy of Boys Be. The reggae man, HYD Vol. 9. And the taxi driver, oh, I don't know... maybe he's the taxi driver from FY. :grin:
Oh, man, does this ending suck. Oh well. Happy Merries and Merry Happies to everyone.
~~~
Dimness. A dull gray dot of consciousness buried in waves of oblivion. An existence trapped in a shell, thrown far away, far back into a void. Forgotten.
But with a gleam, a single tear, a drop of water with the scent of longing keen on its surface, filters in through the tiniest of cracks and glistens. Bringing the first daylight to this dark place it has seen in so long.
Might there be hope of resurrection?
And then the word is spoken. Not merely a word, but an incantation. A spell to bring forth light. A reverberating prayer. Come back to life, it pleads. Complete me.
"MAKINO."
And the Tsukasa within Tsukasa is released.
He grasps the side of the bed with both hands as his head flies back and his eyes open wide, unblinking, unseeing. Pockets and pools of memory fill in. Wild rushing waves of words he's said, things he's done, places he's been crash over him in powerful blows that bring trembling and tears. He shudders with the force of it, crying in mourning for what he's lost, crying in relief for what he's regained, crying in joy for what he now knows. And after the agony comes a blessed calm, a gentle doze that brings him back to reality again. He awakens at the first light of dawn, thinking of her, and feeling whole once more.
It is Christmas morning, and Tsukasa remembers.
~
Miyuki was hardly expecting her patient to be awake this early, let alone out of bed and fully dressed. But as she prepared breakfast trays in the little alcove just off the fifth floor hall, her head was turned by a rush of color and activity, complete with what she could have sworn was a distinctly curly head of hair on top. Shaking the cobwebs out, she rushed to the hall, barely daring to believe her own eyes.
He had stopped halfway through the hall and was grinning back at her. "Good morning, Miyuki-san. Merry Christmas!"
She rubbed her eyes. "D--Doumyouji-sama...?"
"I have somewhere to go," he said with the air of an excited child. "I'll come back later today. See ya!"
Was this the cranky, spoiled rich boy she'd been taking care of for the past several days? It hardly seemed possible. And at this hour...! "Doumyouji-sa..." she started again. But he was already long gone.
~
The reggae man had fallen asleep on a park bench just outside the hospital's main lobby last night. Folding all his blankets and plastic bags around him, he'd just barely kept the snow from covering him, but pieces of crystal hung in his stringy beard and he was shivering even in sleep. He was roused only by the ever-stronger tapping of running footsteps, energetic and swift, and coming right towards him.
He thought he recognized the fellow with the curly hair, running like a huge, overexcited dog across the sidewalk, but his mind was ever a muddle, and he only looked at newspapers when he was tossing them aside rummaging through trashcans for more worthwhile material. Still, the exuberance bursting from that strange lanky frame was enough to arouse his interest. He stirred from his position, stretched out, and promptly convulsed in a loud sneeze as the cold finally seeped into his lungs.
"Bless you!" called the boy, who seemed to find the action very funny. The reggae man ruefully rubbed his sore nose.
The young man stopped in front of him and held out a little white cloth. "Use this," he said, smiling despite the cold air nipping his cheeks. "Merry Christmas."
And then, just like that, the boy was off and running again. The reggae man had no time to find his voice and thank him - to those old bleary eyes he seemed like some sort of bright young angel, flying off on a wintry morning. He cleaned himself off with the pretty white handkerchief, and as he unfolded it, he discovered another slip of paper hidden in it... this one, a 5,000 yen bill.
Getting to his feet, he turned toward the direction the angel had gone and waved. "Thank you!" he exclaimed in a cracked and hoarse... but decidedly happy... voice.
~
The taxi driver was at that moment thinking that his job was decidedly less pleasant than the cab driver's job in "It's a Wonderful Life." He didn't know anyone's names, and no one depended on him. He wasn't friends with the local policeman, and he had no one to sing duets with but the radio. And there was certainly no one around today. The taxi company needed drivers out and available every day and every time, but there was no one who needed a taxi this early in the morning on a holiday. And keeping the engine running wasted company gas and would get taken out of his paycheck. So he was sitting in his taxi, rubbing his hands together to warm them up, all alone on a snowy winter morning.
If the rapping on his window hadn't been quite so persistent, he would have written it off as snow falling from a tree onto the roof of his car. But when it continued for a full ten seconds and never wavered in volume, he looked up and saw an eager, lively face pressed against the passenger-side window. He rolled the windows down.
"You working?" Tsukasa asked the man.
"Won't be until you get in," he replied.
"Then I won't hesitate," said Tsukasa as he swung the door open and came crashing down in the front seat of the cab. Snow blew in with him. The cab driver hurriedly rolled up the window again, shivering. "Sorry," his passenger grinned. "Yamanote, 2-4-5 Daiichi. How much do you make in a day?"
"Eh?" The taximan blinked and froze in mid-twist of the ignition key. "What was that, sir?"
"How much do you make in a day?"
"Well now, that depends on tips and all," was the response. "On a real good day, maybe twenty thousand or so. Why d'you ask?" he added as they pulled out of the space and started to trudge down the snowy road.
"I'll give you forty thousand to hurry."
The car nearly skidded off the street. "WHAT was that?"
"Get me there quick as you can," grinned Tsukasa, "buy your wife some flowers and go home."
"W--what's the occasion, sir?" He was dimly reminded, again, of "It's A Wonderful Life."
"Just got my life back," his customer beamed. "And I don't see why the whole country doesn't celebrate."
The taxi driver stared at him a moment, grinned himself, and stepped on the gas.
~
Tsukushi had been so, so tired last night. She fell asleep still dressed, her arms clutched weakly around the basket of cookies she'd stayed up half the night assembling, body sprawled out only half on her futon. Even before she was awake, the soreness attacked her, and she moaned in her sleep.
Light filtered in through her eyelids, and she thought for a moment it must be morning. But she'd set her alarm clock to go off at eight, and it was still silent, so it couldn't be that late. Burying her face in the pillow, she tried to go back to sleep.
She thought she felt something touch her hair, and she raised a halfhearted hand to bat it away. But it was soothing - a stroking - and she began to believe it was only the sun, only a part of some half-dream she was having. Warm, constant, soothing.
Then there was breath near her ear, not Susumu's rhythm, but strangely familiar. Comforting. Was she dreaming about Doumyouji? She hoped so, and leaned backward into his embrace. Strong arms came around her. Feather-light kisses dotted her ear. This was a lovely dream. "Doumyouji," she let herself say in a lethargic drawl. Her eyes flickered open.
The alarm clock read nine-thirty.
Tsukushi's eyes opened wide, and she moved to get out of this weird dreamlike embrace, but something was holding her back. Someone. It hadn't been a dream - she was being held by arms, comfortable arms, familiar arms, and the hand that had been stroking her hair was really a hand, and this feeling of warmth and shadow over her was...
"Good morning, Makino," whispered the low rumble of a voice she'd doubted she'd ever hear say her name again.
"I'm dreaming," she said loudly, and closed her eyes again.
A soft chuckle, and more kisses. Pressed along her jawline, her cheek. She moaned as they caught her lips. "Good dream," she mumbled, turning her body to meet his.
Oh, God, this was too warm to be a dream.
Her eyes flew open again, and she jerked back. "D... D... Do..."
He put a finger to her lips. "Makino."
"This is a joke," she whispered, growing pale. "Someone put you up to this." He shook his head silently, still smiling. The love radiating from his eyes was something he couldn't have faked, and knowing this, Tsukushi began to tremble. Her eyes filled with tears. "Do you..."
"Remember you?" He finished for her. "Yeah, I remember. Sorry it took me so long."
The tears spilled from her eyes. "R...really?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"Yeah."
Before he could even finish the syllable, her arms were tight around him and she was clinging to him, crying. She whispered his name over and over into the warmth of this place in his arms, this place where she belonged. He laughed and succumbed, toppling them both to the futon, rolling beside her and closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Makino," he whispered. "I'll never leave you alone again. I'm sorry."
She shook her head firmly against him. "Don't apologize," she said in a tear-soaked voice. "You have nothing to be sorry for. This is a miracle."
"Makino--" His brows furrowed and he winced at the sensation of having her in his arms again, full and real and giving. All her warmth, all the patience and pain and hope she'd been holding inside, diffused into him somehow with this embrace, and he felt like he'd taken a piece of her soul into him, bound them together in a way that even memory could not contain. He brought her face up to meet his again, and it was the most honey-sweet and aching of kisses. This time, instead of forgetting only her, he forgot the whole world except for her, and they clung to each other in a world gone white and distant. She was right. This was a miracle.
He dipped to kiss her neck, and she sighed. "Oh, God..." Then the words took on a whole new tone. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed, bolting upright. "Where's Susumu!?"
Tsukasa took a pratfall onto the futon at her sudden change, and righted himself with a painful mutter. "I gave him a few thousand to go take an early morning walk. Would you mind not surprising me like that? I'm still recovering, you know!"
But Tsukushi was fully in business mode. "My job...!"
"Nope," he scowled. "Not allowed. Today is Christmas, it's a day for us to have a Christmas date. No working today."
"But..." Her protests died on her lips as she focused on his obstinate frown. She gave a little smile and looked downward. "You... really... remember me?"
"Right down to the most annoying little detail," he growled, and she laughed. "Get changed and let's go. I'll wait outside."
"But the SPs are..." Her expression changed. "That's right. We don't have to... Doumyouji, your mother gave us a year."
"I know," he said, and she knit her brows in confusion.
"You know? How?!"
He brought his forehead to meet hers and gazed at her with utmost seriousness. Finally, locking eyes with hers, he said in his lowest growl, "A ghost told me."
She hit him with a pillow.
"Ouch!"
"That's what you get!" She scrambled to her feet and stood towering above him. "Out you go, if you want me to get dressed like you said. Go!"
Tsukasa looked up at her. She was pride and fury and amusement, a living whirlwind of complex emotions he couldn't begin to untangle. Only the golden cord of joy and love that shined from her eyes could he understand, yet that was enough to sustain him. She was unforgettable. Now and forever. He would never fear losing her again.
He pulled hard on both her arms, and with a little cry she came sliding back down onto the futon. He covered her lips and her body with his, whispering little maddening promises into her mouth, shuddering with joy when he felt her acquiesce and wrap her arms around him. The sun rose over them as the morning burst into its fullest bloom.
Around them, the city awoke slowly, gently, to the most wondrous, white morning it had ever seen. Children shouted and lovers smiled, holding each other's hands and thinking of promises yet to be spoken. And crystals of snow and crystalline tears shimmered in the daylight as though beating with the pulse of a song. A Christmas carol.
~joy to the world~
