Author's Notes: See chapter one for disclaimer and explanation.
Love, Life, and Death By Annie-chan Chapter Twenty-Six: ClosureNight.
Hôjun, for the first time in what felt like ages, lay asleep in his own bed, his arms protectively around his sleeping wife. He had just gotten home the preceding day, and his spirit was infinitely relieved that the months-long nightmare was now over.
He had always woken up periodically during his nights, and then fallen back asleep a few minutes later. Now, he opened his eye to darkness, seeing the familiar outlines of the inside of his bedroom. Not for the first time, he sighed in relief, glad he had not woken up to find that he was not home after all. The comforting warmth of his dear Kôran lying beside him in the bed was further proof of that. He smiled and placed a light kiss upon her forehead.
Moonlight peeking through a crack in the window shutters caught on something smooth and shiny on the bedside table. It was the circular stone necklace Ho Jun had recently acquired, the pendant the same stone Hikô had worn bound to his forehead. Ho Jun reached over, careful not to disturb his wife, and picked up the necklace. It was cool to the touch, the smooth surface displaying no anomaly.
I gave this to Hikô when we were still children, no da, Hôjun thought sadly. And yet, he kept it, even when he claimed to hate me more than anything else, no da. He must have been unconsciously protesting against Tenkô's control, even as he bowed down to him, no da. Hôjun's heart clenched as he remembered Hikô insisting it was all his fault, that he could have fought back against Tenkô's brainwashing.
He felt sleep overcoming him again, and he replaced the necklace back on the table. He let himself be taken by nothingness again, his last thoughts before fading out being how much he missed his dearest friend.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hôjun sat at the base of the willow tree by the river. It was a little after noon, and he wanted to just sit down and think about things. Every once in a while, his hand would reach up to finger the necklace pendant. He usually kept it under his shirt, to protect it from damage, but it was hanging outside now.
Hikô, Hôjun thought pensively, are you free from your inner demons, now, no da? Tenkô no longer has you, but are you at peace with yourself, no da? If only I could speak to you one last time to see if you are or not, no da.
"Hôjun?" a soft voice said from someone just coming up the hill. "Daijôbu? You've been sitting staring at the river for nearly an hour now."
Hôjun turned to his wife and gave her a small smile. "Daijôbu, no da. I'm just thinking about stuff, no da. I was probably going to get up soon anyway, no da." He wasn't so sure how true that last statement would have been if Kôran hadn't come up the hill.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, sitting beside him and leaning against him, putting her arms around him. She sounded slightly hesitant to hear his answer.
Hôjun hesitated, but finally whispered, "Hikô, no da. I'm wondering if he is at peace with himself now, no da. He showed so much grief over what he had done as he lay dying, no da. I just wish there was some way I could find out if he is free from that guilt, now that he is free from both Tenkô and life, no da."
"Mm," Kôran murmured. After several years of marriage to him, and many more years of being one of his best friends before they wedded, she knew that he lapsed into these almost trance-like bouts of deep thought, and it was not a good idea to try to force him out of one. If brought out of it before he brought himself out of it, he was disoriented, and he usually looked almost frightened. It was different if he was sensing a call from afar. Then, he usually shook his head and blinked a few times, as if refocusing his eye. But, when he sunk down into his own thoughts, he meant to shut the world out, and was very reluctant to come out before he was ready. He was not as deep this time as he could be, since he was speaking lucidly to her, but he was still rather immersed in his train of thought.
After several more minutes of staring at the water, he spoke again. "I wonder if he can see us right now, no da."
"Hai, I can see you quite plainly."
Both Hôjun and Kôran jumped at that voice, and whipped their heads around to their left. There, kneeling a few feet away from them, was Hikô. Or, more accurately, a translucent image of Hikô.
"Hikô, no da!" Hôjun gasped, surprised. "You…you're a—"
"Hai, I am a ghost," Hikô replied. "Demo, it's not because I refuse to go to the Afterlife, mind you. Suzaku-seikun thought the three of us should be able to say goodbye in a little more friendly setting than when we were last all together. So, he sent me here, to the Material Plane, again for a few minutes."
Hôjun got a distinct feeling his god had been listening in to his thoughts. But, rather than feel offended at the invasion of privacy, he took advantage of this opportunity. "Hikô, are you…at peace with yourself, no da?"
"Hai," Hikô's ghost answered, nodding once. "I have been able to forgive myself, though it did take a little talking-to by Suzaku-seikun. He's managed to convince me that it all was, after all, unavoidable."
"So," Kôran ventured quietly, "you don't hold yourself completely responsible anymore?"
"Iie," Hikô said. "I have done away with my guilt over that. I've realized that dwelling over the past doesn't make anything any better."
"I hope you know that we don't hate you, Hikô, no da," Hôjun said, feeling relieved. "I wouldn't hate you for the world, and neither would Kôran, no da. We love you, no da. I trusted you more than my own brother, and I'm sure Kôran felt the same way, no da."
Hikô smiled softly and bowed his head slightly in thanks. "Yokatta. I know you said it before, but hearing it again, when I'm not absorbed in blaming myself, makes it seem more real to me. Arigatô, you two. Arigatô gozaimasu." He looked up to them again. "Sayonara. Till we meet again." With that, he disappeared.
"Sayonara, Hikô," Hôjun whispered. He suddenly felt as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he could finally breathe again after many years of suffocating. Kôran sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye.
Hôjun, a voice said in their heads, causing them to jump again. I have healed my scars, for the most part. You should heal your own.
Hôjun looked down to Kôran. The look in her eyes showed that she had heard as well.
"What do you suppose he means, no da?" Hôjun asked softly, though he had an idea.
"I think," Kôran began, "maybe…" She trailed off, her hand coming up to his face, her fingertips gently tracing the scar that slashed across the left side of his face. He flinched at the touch, but did not pull away. Kôran continued, sounding a little surer. "Didn't one of your fellow Seishi give you some healing water?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Are you sure, Hôjun?" Kôran asked, sitting at the foot of the bed, facing her husband, who was sitting at the head.
"No, I'm not really sure, no da," he replied. In his hand, he held the little sealed jar of holy water that Mitsukake had given him. The deceased Seishi had given it to him purposely for his eye, should Hôjun ever wish to heal the scar. Now, Hôjun was trying to decide if he should do that or not. "What do you think I should do, no da?"
"I'm not saying anything," she said. "It should be all your decision, Hôjun. I don't want to help you make a decision you may come to regret later."
"Demo…what would you like me to do, no da? It may or may not affect my decision, no da."
"I won't tell you that until after you make your decision, Hôjun."
"Well, you're certainly no help, no da," Hôjun said in mock irritation. He sighed.
"Maybe you should do something else right now," Kôran suggested. "It will get your mind off of it, and then a decision may be easier."
"Iie, no da," he disagreed. "It will just gnaw at my brain all the more if I try to ignore it, no da."
"Well, then…would you like to be left alone?"
"Iie, no da," he said. After a few minutes of thinking, he continued. "Stay with me, no da. I want your help, no da."
"I've already said that I won't give my opinion until you make your own decision, Hôjun."
"It's not that, no da. I've made my decision, no da. I want help putting this stuff on the scar, no da." His voice was very soft.
"Are…" Kôran began. "Are you completely sure, Hôjun?" She didn't want him healing the scar and then deciding later that he shouldn't have.
"Hai, no da," he whispered, closing his eye. "I have had this scar for over eight years now, no da. I kept it as a reminder of my sins against Hikô. I didn't even think of removing it, even though a scar like this on one's face can attract ridicule, and even fear, like…like in that village near Daikyoku-zan, no da." The memories of that day were still etched painfully clear in his mind. "But, now…Hikô suggested I heal this scar, no da. I guess it was a last request of his, after a fashion, no da. If he wants me to get rid of it, when he was the reason I kept it, I don't think I have the right to ignore his suggestion, no da."
"Wakatta," Kôran said, moving toward him. She took the jar from his hands. "Lie down, then. It will be easier to do this if you are flat." He obeyed, but then posed a question.
"Where are Tori and Seiryoku, no da?" he asked. "I haven't seen them in a while." At the moment, baby Hana was asleep in her cradle next to the bed, but he had no idea where his two older children were.
"They're playing with some friends in the town square," Kôran answered, carefully unsealing the jar. "Now, close your eye, and hold still."
Hôjun closed his right eye, a feeling of nervousness creeping over him. What will it feel like? Will it hurt? Will there be enough water? Will he regret the decision after it cannot be undone? He forcibly calmed his mind, assuring himself that all will go well.
Kôran carefully tipped the small jar over where his left eye used to be, taking extra care not to let it flow out too quickly. She didn't want to waste any and risk a shortage. She let if fall on the rough band of flesh cutting across his face in drips, making sure every part of it was dampened.
Hôjun sucked in his breath, hissing. It stung badly, and he could feel the water seeping into his skin and working it's magic on the old wound. It penetrated down to where the bone had been scratched, and went deep into the eye socket, healing from the inside out, slowly but surely fixing the grievous injury that nearly cost him his life. He had been exceedingly lucky it had not become infected, or that the long splinters that claimed his eye did not punch through the thin back of the socket and pierce his brain. He had also lost enough blood that it would have probably killed him, had he not had his Seishi power buried deep inside him.
He groaned and put his hand up to his face as Kôran pulled away, the entire scar covered with a thin film of the water. The sting spread though the entire upper-left quarter of his face, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He felt the skin smoothing and becoming new again, and a distinct fullness was growing in the socket where there had only been empty space and scar tissue before.
After about two minutes, he sat up slowly, his hand still mostly over his eye. He sat there a minute, his head bowed, and he shook his head once, as if to clear it. After a minute, he took his hand away, raised his head…
…and opened both his eyes.
"Hôjun," Kôran whispered softly. He looked at her, his gaze again two mahogany-brown pools, so deep she could swear she could dive right in. He hadn't looked at her like this for over eight years, and she felt a shiver pass through her. She reached up and stroked his face. "Beautiful…"
Hôjun put his hand on hers, holding it to his cheek. "It feels…strange…to see from both eyes again, no da," he whispered. "But…it also feels…good, no da."
Kôran smiled at him, and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug. He had finally exorcised his demons, had finally put his painful past behind him. She felt happy tears well up in her eyes.
He embraced her back, his face turned slightly skyward. Arigatô…Hikô…Mitsukake…no da.
To be continued…Author's Notes: I don't think this chapter was my best work, but I like it well enough. Some of you may want to kill me for getting rid of The Scar, but I thought he should have gotten rid of it after being forgiven by Hikô. I know many of you will agree with me, right? Hai, hai, it means he doesn't wear that kawaii little mask of his anymore, but don't worry. He'll still keep it, though he won't wear it. It'll be a keepsake to remind him that not everything goes the way it should (most things don't go the way they should, to tell the truth), and that things can go very wrong if you don't take care. Anyway, be happy that he'll keep his "no da." It's a lot harder to change habitual speech patterns than to heal a scar with magic water, especially after more than eight years. Please tell me what you think of this, either in a review or at mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!