This chapter is dedicated to Ka-chan (Karen ^_^) and Grace (aka Chaotic gal)
To Karen ~ thanks loads for helping me with the translation, although I don't think you'll ever read this ^_^" But you helped me a lot… so arigatou! *bows low*
To Grace ~ I realize that you've just begun reading more fics *grins* And you're reading mine -_-" Which I admit to be a little freaked out by… But erm… thanks anyway *huggles tight* Hope you'll get to reading this chapter soon… hehe ^_~
II
I saw him at my funeral.
He stood, silent, emotionless, strands of scarlet red hair falling over his unmoving copper eyes.
I watched him standing in front of my grave until the sky darkened in orange-purple shades.
He didn't speak. He didn't move.
And when Miyagi, Mitsui, Youhei, Kogure, Haruko, Ayako, and Akagi all approached him one by one, mourning and concern etched on their features as they tried to persuade him to go home, he didn't respond.
He merely stared on into the distance.
I reached out and tried to touch him. But my fingers went right through his body and he didn't twitch.
I knew that the time when I could reach out and hold him was now nothing but a distant memory of forbidden chances.
It might have shocked and angered me if it didn't hurt me so much. So much that I couldn't do anything but look and look at him and regret that I chose to leave him that day without telling him the truth. Without telling him how much I loved him, about how much I had always loved him.
Somehow I wasn't shocked that I had come back to earth like this; as something invisible, untouchable but yet present and alive.
What was the term people used for it again? Oh yes, a ghost. That's what people called it. A ghost.
It wasn't really as strange as it was invariably portrayed as in movies. Movies were just like everything else from human beings – lies. In movies the dead never noticed they were ghosts – they would always get the shock of their lives when they discovered that they couldn't see their reflections in the mirror. I never really cared to look at myself in the mirror, so it didn't make a difference to me. I couldn't care less about what other people thought of me, so whether they could see me or not didn't make a difference to me either. There was only one thing that made a difference. Only one thing that really mattered. Only one thing about not having a physical body that truly stabbed my heart until it bled.
And that was Sakuragi.
Every minute that I lived was for him. He was my hope, my meaning in the dark meaningless world of hypocrites that I lived in.
And to not be able to talk to him, to not be able to touch him or look into his eyes with him looking back into mine – these were the only things that hurt me.
He made me feel. He made me feel real emotion – something I thought I had lost forever in my despising distrust of humankind.
I don't remember how it all started.
Perhaps it was anger first. Anger at how he would lunge and swing at me for reasons downright absurd. Anger and irritation at his simple-mindedness and childish insults. Anger and the state of actually paying attention to someone – a type of behaviour that had disappeared from my life long before I had met him on the Shohoku rooftop on that fateful day.
And then anger became curiosity. The state of actually wanting to know him better, to understand the reasons behind his naivety, his straightforwardness, his childish honesty that was so rare amongst mankind. The state of resorting to a pathetically irrational type of violence, of resorting to picking fights over matters so trivial I can't even remember what they were, just to get close to him, just to feel his skin on mine.
Captivation. Being spellbound whenever he was near, losing myself without him and finding myself again in his eyes. Falling into the truth and simplicity that was Sakuragi, realizing that he was how life should be, that he was the closest to Heaven on earth. Being swept away by that vague, fleeting weariness hiding in his eyes, running across his face at rare, magical moments where I had to bite my lip to suppress the urge to run forward and take him in my arms – to protect him from all that he was tired of, all that he was hiding from, to make everything all right, to protect him from all the obstacles of life for the rest of my days, for as long as forever would go, until the end of time.
And somewhere in between these emotions came homophobia. Fear. Disgust and hatred for Sakuragi and myself alike – myself for falling for a guy; something that was inexcusable, him for being the person that I fell for; for making me feel so many emotions and so much pained yearning that I couldn't deal with.
Somewhere along the way he because my life, my hope, my meaning. He was the only person I trusted, the only person I valued … the only person I loved.
And it hurt to love him.
It hurt to know that he could never love me back.
It hurt to know that I could never let him know how I felt.
It hurt to know that when I would be forced to make my departure from this world, I would never see his face again.
And that was the only thing that scared me about death.
I don't know why I left him. I should have stayed.
Now I even regret choosing to do the operation in the first place.
It's funny when I think of it now. To think that I could be regretting choosing not to prolong death. It's funny, really.
The doctors had all warned me against it.
Of all the times I had listened to their advice on my illness, this is the first time I feel like I should have taken it.
"Rukawa-san …" they had stuttered, voices trembling in faltering hesitation. "we're advising you now … not as doctors, but as people who have watched you growing up…
"We're advising you not to sign the papers … not to take this flight to America and do this heart transplant …"
I almost scoffed when I asked them why.
"The structure of your heart …" they told me. "it's frail … fragile … it's weak enough as it is without performing surgery on it and moving it …
"We don't think your heart is strong enough … strong enough to undergo surgery, Rukawa-san …"
"It's never been." I replied bluntly.
They didn't know why I was so stubborn. So insistent on getting myself killed. No one knew.
"Please listen to us, Rukawa … Kaede…"
Since when had we become so close?
"If you do this operation … if you choose to do this heart transplant … then there'll only be a 5% chance that you're going to … survive …"
I looked away from them.
"I'm not going to survive anyway."
And that was the truth. The plain truth. The truth of my life, ever since I had been delivered from my now deceased mother's womb into this cold, ruthless world of lies – that was the only truth: that I was forever destined never to live because of the fact that soon I was going to die.
Until the day I met Sakuragi, my life consisted of two things - two things only - that gnawed at my brain and my consciousness until they absorbed my whole being.
One was death. The constant, haunting reminder that very soon everything that I had called life would come to an end.
Before I met him, it was never an issue to me. It was as much a part of my life as the fact that I ate, the fact that I slept, the fact that I breathed, the fact that I blinked – the fact that soon my heart would stop working, soon it would be the end, soon I would cease to exist and my being would disappear into a spiralling vault of nothingness. It was normal to me. It was part of my daily routine, something that had been imprinted into my brain since I was a few years old. It was never an issue to me.
And then I met him.
Him with the simple naivety, him with the truth and the honesty – him who gave me hope and somehow, made me want to smile.
And for the first time in my life, I was afraid of death. I was afraid of the fact that I was going to die.
I was afraid of never being able to see his face again, never being able to hear his voice again, never being able to feel his presence, his light, the magical warmth that he brought into my world by just being the blissfully simple Sakuragi that he was.
I never came to terms with this fear. I don't think I ever admitted that I was scared.
How hopelessly stupid of me.
The other thing that made up my life was basketball. The only activity where I could miraculously feel like I could trust people, trust the team mates around me, trust that we were united by our goal and thirst for success. Once I stepped onto the basketball court and held a ball in my hands, I felt like I belonged, I felt like I could somehow see through people's lies and absorb the truth in their actions. In short, with basketball, I felt like I could try and trust again. I felt like I could trust in a world that was devoid of such trust. And that was why it got me addicted.
From the very start I had been advised not to do sport, not to strain myself.
I never listened.
And so I wheezed and choked and tried to swallow down my poor stamina, tried to give people the idea that I was a miracle-worker on court, that I wasn't tired, that my muscles weren't screaming with pain like never before. That my heart wasn't aching so heavily that I felt like collapsing every second of every game. That I didn't struggle to keep my eyes open every living moment, only barely managing to do so.
Maybe it was open defiance. Maybe subconsciously, I wanted to spit in people's faces at the injustice of the fact that I was destined never to really live. Maybe deep down inside me, I hated the fact that I was born with an illness; denied a chance to enjoy my existence right from the start. Maybe I simply hated God for what He did to me and wanted to get back at Him by throwing my life straight in His face. Maybe that was how I really felt.
I don't know. I don't understand myself. I never have.
I saw him regularly because of basketball.
Maybe that was another reason why it gained extra importance in my life.
Because that was how I found him.
I watched him. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I still can't believe people never noticed the way he took my breath away.
He was amazing.
He was … my life.
And I knew that he should never have been.
It hurt like hell.
To know what I was becoming. To know how much I needed him, how much I depended on him.
To know that he would never love me.
To know that if even if he did love me … I could never let him.
Because when the time came for me to leave, I would have to leave him.
And that hurt me. That scared me.
It petrified me.
Death petrified me for the first time, because of him. Because I loved him.
Death got in the way.
And so I forced myself never to let it show. I vowed to myself never to let him know how much I loved him, never to let him know how much I needed him.
Simply because I knew that … time was running out.
That love … would never survive.
That I was going to die.
And I would never see him again.
Do not – do not – hurt yourself, I told myself. And don't hurt him. You can't tell him. You can never let him know.
I never did.
There were so many reasons why.
At that time I thought they were convincing.
I don't anymore.
And so I looked away when he pulled me back at the airport. I looked away when he cried, when he begged, when he sobbed and he sniffled. And I walked away when he said, 'I'll wait for you', the words that I knew, with every trembling heartbeat vibrating through my being, were all I wanted to hear.
And when I saw the desperation in his eyes in the moments he had uttered those many words that were so uncharacteristic of the Sakuragi that I knew, I cried. I held my tears back, but I cried.
But I left all the same.
How stupid. How stupid of me.
I regret leaving him. I regret not taking him in my arms then and there, wiping all his tears away then and there and tracing his lips back into the beautiful, blissful happiness that he was.
But I left him without a word. I left him to watch me moving away, abandoned. And those words, 'I'll wait!', over and over again …
I should never have left.
I should have acknowledged the fact that he loved me.
What did it matter that I was going to die? He loved me, that was all that mattered.
How could I have been so blind?
I died in the operation room. I remember the long, droning beep of the heart monitor, the airy drifting feeling in my gut. I remember looking down on myself, my eyes closed and to be sealed shut forever.
Yet all I could think of was Sakuragi.
And as an indescribable force sucked me upwards, I must have begged deep inside my soul.
And I remember what I was thinking as clear as glass.
Please God.
My voice echoed, though only to be heard by me.
I know I've never done anything for You, I know I've never believed in You the way I always should have.
But …
Please, if you could just let me see Sakuragi again … one last time … I'll do anything You ask me … please …
Please …
God must have heard me.
Everything around me vanished.
I lost all conception of time, and when I opened my eyes again, I was floating above my grave.
And then I saw him, staring emotionlessly at the stone with my name carved onto its surface.
And I cried like never before.
Because I knew that no matter how much I spilled my heart out to him now, he would never know how much I loved him.
I followed him everywhere. I walked beside him, sat next to him, watched him in his sleep. It felt like I was still alive, still physically present. Sometimes I tried to speak to him, tried to touch him. But he never responded. And I knew that he never would.
Maybe this was God's way of playing a joke on me. God's way of reminding me of how pathetic my life always was. "Let's see - let's make Rukawa get his wish to see Sakuragi again, but make it so that Sakuragi never acknowledges his presence. Let's make Rukawa regret everything, let's torture Rukawa till he gets down on his knees and begs me yet again. Let's do that." Often I sincerely thought that this was what it was all about. Pain, suffering. God's way of telling me that I was wrong not to believe in Him, that I was wrong to live the way that I always did. That I was wrong. Always wrong. Maybe that was what it was all about.
Words unsaid weren't the main things that tortured me.
The main thing that tortured me was watching Sakuragi.
Watching the person I loved turning into someone that I didn't recognize.
He seldom slept. He would leave his curtains drawn and sit by the window in silence, staring out onto the moonlight-streaked pathway, emotionless, motionless. He seldom talked, never smiled – never laughed. He stopped playing basketball and went to school on very rare occasions. And he seemed to go to extreme measures to make sure he was always alone.
He was shutting himself out.
And with each day that passed by, he lost more and more expression and more and more words.
He didn't even cry. He just … stayed emotionless, every minute of every day.
Watching him like this … hurt me.
It tortured me, to say the least.
It was like drowning in a scorching hot ring of flames.
But yet I was powerless. I could do nothing to stop it.
I would move close to him, whisper in his ear, try to hold him close and ask him not to do this to himself.
Needless to say, he never heard me.
No matter how tired I was, how much it hurt me, I never gave up. Simply because I loved him.
He was the only person I ever loved.
The Shohoku guys kept visiting him. They tried to smile and get him to talk. They avoided the subject of my death, immediately changing the subject whenever they unknowingly trod upon the forbidden ground of this subject area. How long had it been? I don't remember. I lost all concept of time right from the moment I was put before Sakuragi again.
And Sakuragi got more and more silent, more and more cold. It was as if …
… he had died along with me.
Until one evening.
I followed in Sakuragi's footsteps as he rose from his position next to the window to answer the door.
Kogure and Youhei greeted him politely.
He didn't reply. He merely nodded and turned away, leaving the door open as a gesture for the two visitors to step inside.
Kogure and Youhei didn't even bother to try and start a conversation gradually. They instantly jumped to the point.
"Talk to us, Sakuragi." Kogure said.
Sakuragi frowned, his face still emotionless - as it was always accustomed to being nowadays.
"Don't do this to yourself, Hanamichi." Youhei's voice cut in. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
Sakuragi looked away, still silent.
"You can't keep these feelings bottled up inside you, Sakuragi." Kogure continued, stepping forward. "We've all mourned Rukawa's death, we've all cried and shouted and we've come to terms with it now. But you … you're killing yourself inside."
"Talk to us," Youhei began to raise his voice. "tell us how you feel! Face the facts, Hanamichi! Accept the truth! Tell us what you're going through!"
"It'll help if you tell us how you're feeling, Sakuragi." Kogure whispered. "If you keep everything to yourself like this … we're worried, do you understand? We're all worried about you!"
And I watched as a solitary tear trickled down Sakuragi's cheek, the first tear he had shed ever since my 'death'.
I immediately moved towards him, trying helplessly to wipe his tear away and take him in my arms.
"Don't cry …" I choked, the empty echo of my voice surrounding me.
Once again, he didn't hear me. None of them did.
"Hanamichi …" Youhei breathed, his voice shaking as he moved towards his friend.
"Talk to us, Sakuragi." Kogure passed Sakuragi a tissue.
There was silence for a while. Motionless silence, as if someone had pressed the 'pause' button on the remote control of reality.
And then Sakuragi extended his hand, reached for the tissue …
… and slapped it away.
The slap hung in the air.
"Go away." Sakuragi said.
His voice was low, trembling.
Kogure and Youhei tried approaching Sakuragi once again.
"Talk to us, Sakuragi …" Kogure repeated in concerned persistence.
And then it was as if a bomb had exploded.
"What do you mean - talk to you?? What the hell do you want me to say??!"
He was crying, tears breaking free and flowing down his cheeks uncontrollably. His features were scrunched up, his voice pulled tight and barely audible with the gushing of suppressed sobs. His whole body quivered, his chest rising and falling with heavy, erratic wheezing.
"Do you want me to tell you how much I miss kitsune … how much I miss Rukawa … how much it hurts to know that I'll never hear his voice again … never see his face again … never feel him next to me again …? How much it hurts to know that the person I've only just realized I don't hate, but love, isn't just away … isn't coming back … but that he's – and it's a he – he's dead … DEAD … DEAD!! To know that he's DEAD – AND I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!! I can't tell him how much I love him anymore … I can't tell him how much I need to be next to him … how much I think of him … how much I need him … how much he makes me feel and how I can't live without him … Do you want me to tell you that?? Is that enough?? Is that enough for you people??"
"Hanamichi …" Youhei started.
"SHUT UP!!" Sakuragi screamed. "GO AWAY!! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!"
"Sakuragi, we –"
"GET OUT!!! I SAID GET OUT!!"
Kogure closed his eyes and nodded, a gesture of submission, then proceeded towards the door.
The pain in Sakuragi's sobs penetrated the atmosphere around us.
Kogure turned back, sadness evident in his clouded eyes.
"No one said he'd never come back." he said.
Sakuragi looked up, his features softening somewhat.
Kogure continued.
"And no one said that he never knew you loved him. That he never loved you.
"He's still here, Sakuragi. He's still here, with you, with us. And he loves you. He's always loved you.
"Always know that."
And with that, Kogure and Youhei turned and walked away into the distance.
He sat in the middle of the room, his body still trembling, his head buried in his hands.
His muffled sobs rang as loud as volcanic eruptions in my ears.
And the pain pulsing through the room would have suffocated me if I weren't already dead.
All I could hear was his voice.
"Kitsune …" he whispered, his syllables drenched with desperation.
"Kitsune … come back … come back to me … please …"
He choked, and he wheezed, but he kept talking, as if his existence depended on every word he was breathing out into what appeared as an empty house before his eyes at this very moment.
"Don't you know how much I need you, kitsune? How much I … how much I love you?
"Come back to me … please …
"Don't leave me like this …"
I moved towards him once again.
"Why did you leave me, kitsune? Why didn't you … stay? Why couldn't you … love me? Why couldn't you?
"Why did you do this to me? Why did you leave me?
"Why couldn't you … love me?"
My vision blurred as tears ran down my cheeks, tears that felt as real as any other physical thing in the physical world that I had left far behind me.
"Do'aho …" I breathed, trying to hold my tears back, trying to brush his hair away from his eyes. "I do love you … I do …"
But I watched as my fingers dissolved into see-through non-existence once again.
He continued to cry, his eyes trembling with something that I never thought I would ever see.
"Why didn't you come back?
"I'm waiting for you … I'm still waiting, kitsune …
"And I still love you … don't you know that?
"Can't you come back, love me back, just this once?"
I looked and looked at him, and at that precise moment in time, I knew that I would give anything, anything at all, if I could just hold him in my arms, one last time.
That I would give anything to let him know how much I loved him, to let him know that I did love him, that I had always loved him – that I never meant to leave him, that I had come back for him, just for him.
"I love you, do'aho…" I choked, tears falling down my cheeks and onto the floor. "I love you …"
And suddenly, I felt a light shining from deep within me. A warm, blinding light radiating from a vague position right beneath my heart.
And for the first time for what had seemed like forever, Sakuragi looked straight into my eyes.
And his tears stopped flowing.
"Kitsune …?" he breathed, his voice soft, disbelieving, and hopeful all at the same time.
And I laughed through my tears.
I took him in my arms and held him tight, as tight as I still had the strength to.
I leaned back and brought my fingers up to his face, brushing his hot tears away.
He just looked at me, eyes unflinching.
And then he grinned – a weak grin, but a grin nevertheless, a grin that I missed so terribly much, the grin of a child that made me fall in love with him all over again.
"Kitsune…?" he repeated in a pitch slightly higher than a whisper.
"Do'aho." I answered, tears gathering in my eyes.
"You came back …" he said, his features quivering.
"Of course …" I whispered, holding him close once again. "I can't last a day without you …"
I cupped his face in my hands, and something from somewhere high above me told me that this would be the last time I would have the chance to look at him, to be this close to him, ever again.
"Hana …" I began, swallowing back sobs. "listen to me …
"I can't stay…"
Before I knew it, tears were pouring from his eyes once again.
"But … why?" he choked.
I tried to smile.
"Promise me some things, okay?"
He shook his head frantically.
"I'm not going to let you go, I'm not!" he yelled.
"Promise me, Hana!"
Time was running out. Somehow I knew that time was running out.
He kept shaking his head, his eyes screwed shut stubbornly – but I continued all the same.
"Promise … not to miss me."
He opened his eyes and looked at me, an unreadable expression chiselled on his face.
"No…" he started.
I placed my fingers over his lips.
"Promise me that you'll go on with life as you always have, with smiles, with laughter, with the bliss that was always the Sakuragi Hanamichi that I knew."
He didn't answer. He only stared at me in silence, as if he didn't know what to say.
"Promise me that you'll play basketball again, that you'll dazzle everyone with your miracles and your moves and you'll show everyone what the real tensai can do."
"I'm not a tensai…" he cut in.
"You are." I told him. "You are.
"And you're the only honesty left in this world, you're the only light left in this darkness. So promise me you won't change. Promise me you'll be happy, you'll be as you always were. Promise me that."
I smiled at the way strands of his hair fell over his eyes, something that I knew all too painfully well.
"Promise me that you'll treat yourself well, that you'll turn your back on this life that you're falling into, that you'll stop shutting yourself out from the world – that you'll be Sakuragi Hanamichi again, the real Sakuragi Hanamichi … not this cold, stone mask that's driving you to despair.
"And promise me that you'll go out with that Haruko girl."
At the sound of those words he leapt up from his position on the floor.
"I can't do that!" he screamed. "I can't promise that!"
I shook my head.
"Promise not to miss me." I continued. "Promise to go on without me."
And as we broke into tears and melted into each other's arms, I knew that time was up.
It felt like I was expecting it when a force pulled me upwards.
"Kitsune!!" Sakuragi yelled desperately, jumping in an attempt to pull me back down. "Kitsune!!"
I gazed down at Sakuragi from my reversing suspension in the air and smiled one last time.
"I'm sorry, do'aho." I raised my voice.
"Why are you sorry?" he yelled after me. "Kitsune!!"
"I'm sorry for never telling you that I loved you," I whispered in between sobs. "I'm sorry for not telling you how much I've always loved you, do'aho.
"I'm sorry for running away from you. I'm sorry for hurting you…"
"I don't care, kitsune…" I could hear the tears breaking in his voice as he struggled to follow my trail. "I don't care…"
"I love you, do'aho." I shouted. "I love you!"
I tried to reach out for him even though I knew it was useless.
It was time for me to leave.
My fingers brushed gently across his cheek, as if saying one final farewell.
"And it doesn't matter what people say… because I love you … I'll always love you … till the end of time …"
"Kitsune!"
The sincerity of his voice rang like music in my ears one last time.
And I smiled at the bright, beautiful, brown of his eyes.
And then everything faded away.
Let me take you away while time looks past usWithout leaving a trace behind us
Without bringing emptiness before us
Between two standpoints I'll watch over you
Let me take you away while time looks past us
This isn't stubborn
This isn't escape
For only running unbridled will set you free EndNotes: As stated above *points to comments at the top*, the lyric passage at the end was translated from Jay Chou's 'Split' – 'Fen Lie' …
I struggled a lot to capture what Jay Chou had when he was writing these lyrics … _ *looks at passage and cringes* Ahh… I still haven't been able to capture that feeling… *sighs* Maa maa… it's okay ^_^ I'll give you the original version, the way Jay had had it… (in pinyin – that's Chinese (mandarin), just in case you don't know ^_^") ~*
Chen shi jian mei fa jue rang wo dai zhu ni li kai
Mei you le zheng ming
Mei you le kong xu
Ju yu liang zhong li chang wo hui zhao zhu ni
Chen shi jian mei fa jue rang wo dai zhu ni li kai
Zhe bu shi wan gu
Zhe bu shi tao bi
Mei ren bang zhu ni zhou cai kuai le
If you haven't heard this song, I highly recommend it … because only through listening to it will you understand why I was inspired to use it to end this fic – the song is simply wonderful … ^_^ The piano notes and the cello playing in the background … *sniffles* And the lyrics… carrying their original meaning in mandarin… *sighs* It was perfect for this fic… perfect …
*sheds tear* I don't know what it is with me and angst… I realized that I've already written two fics with happy endings…and I should try writing a sad ending … so here… a death, drama, and angst fic all in one *sweatdrops and sighs* I'm getting upset by my own fic, can you believe that? ^.^"
It's too bad there's no way I can let you guys listen to the song here and now … But … if you happen to hear it one day, think of my fic ne? ^_~ *laughs*
If you download songs, pleeassseee *falls down on knees* try to download this song… it's wonderful, I tell you …wonderful … *drifts away*
Mmmm… all the Chinese speakers out there would have heard of Jay Chou ne? *grins* I'm a big fan of him and this song was from Eight Dimensions … just to remind you guys ^_~ Get the album and listen to the song now!!! *laughs* It sounds like I'm in the advertising industry or something -_-" Ahh… anyway…
I wrote the first chapter of this fic between bus trips –Hanamichi's POV that is – which explains the difference in length *sweatpours* I feel more comfortable writing in Rukawa's POV… haha… *frowns at fic* Pretty obvious ne? _~" *sighs* I seriously need to work on keeping the guys in character… I don't think I'm doing that very well o.O But oh well *shrugs* Two people joined together by love, broken apart by death, and joined back together by love again (then split apart by death again of course -_-")… an idea revolving around that theme struck me – I'm not sure when – and I got down to writing this angsty death fic ^_^ *grins* I hope you like it…
Leave a review ne? Tell me how it was… ^_~
Until I think of another plot…ja! ^.^
All the best and God bless ~*
~Lanie~
3/10/2002
