"The Last Wish" - continued from Part V
~ ~ ~
Miaka's eyes were wide and horrified, one hand pressed tightly against her lips. "Oh...oh, Nuriko," she managed at last, staring at the suddenly-fragile-looking boy beside her with pain in her eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry."
He shrugged a bit uncomfortably, folded his slender arms carefully over his chest. "It wasn't your fault, Miaka. It was...it was mine." His voice was low, thick with the pain of the memories...the pain of his guilt. After another long moment of silent introspection, Nuriko drew in a long breath, let it out slowly through his nostrils. He turned to her then, the ghost of a smile twisting his lips upward, bringing a new and welcome warmth into his eyes. "Anyway...if it weren't for you..." His eyes closed, and that soft smile lifted upwards, just a bit. "If it weren't for you...helping me through it...I don't know what I would've done."
She stared at him with wide eyes. "I...I helped you through it?"
Nuriko inclined his head a fraction of an inch, smiled at her warmly. "Hai." His slender fingers twisted together in his lap, trembled just noticeably. "You helped me...more than you'll ever know, Miaka."
---
Seven Years Earlier
~*~*~*~
It was morning again...at least, he thought it was. Weakly, he lifted his head, peered out at the world through a thick haze of dark eyelashes...and winced as a shaft of sunlight pierced into his vision, left him blinded and in pain. Groaning, Ryuen lay back, tugged the covers back over his head. His breath was warm and moist against his cheeks, echoing back at him from the soft prison of the covers, making it difficult to breathe...reality sliced into him, then, made him remember.
This was no ordinary day...the...the funeral was today.
Much to his surprise, he didn't feel that horrible welling sensation in his throat as the thought flitted through his mind...he didn't scream or cry or rip at the lightly-bandaged wound on his shoulder like he'd been doing the past few days...no. He just lay there, staring up into the darkness of his blankets, suffocating slowly on the warmth of his own breath. Kourin was...gone. And, even though he knew that, somewhere within him, it still hurt...right now, he didn't feel a thing. Everything...his heart, his mind...it was all numb today...he was just a shell...nothing left inside to feel...nothing. Nothing left.
At last, he tossed the heavy blankets back from his face and chest, drew in a long, cool breath of morning air, let it fill his lungs, cleanse his mind... It was Tuesday. Saturday seemed so long ago...but, it was only, what, three days ago? God. Three days. Kourin had been dead for three days...
A brief prickle of pain stabbed into his heart, pierced through the numbness for an instant.
//Three days ago right now...Kourin was still alive. Three days ago right now...everything was fine. Everything was perfect.\\
"Ryuuuuuuuuen!" The high, light voice of his mother echoed from downstairs, snapped him back to reality. "Ryuen, are you awake? Come down to breakfast!"
"Stop being so damned cheerful," came the low, angry murmur of his father's voice. There was the ruffle of newspaper, then, and the sound of a chair being pushed over the smooth linoleum of the kitchen floor. "Give him time," the low voice continued. "If he doesn't feel like coming down to breakfast, he doesn't have to."
His mother's voice, hushed and harsh, chimed in then, shattered the soothing bass of his father's words. "No. I will not let him spend the rest of his life in that room. All he does is lie up there and sleep or sit on her bed and stare up at the ceiling. He has to deal with this! You KNOW that. If we keep letting him lay up there all day and don't help him come back to reality, he's never going to be able to get over this. Look, I've...I've lost my daughter. My only daughter...I've lost her...but, I'm still going on, I'm still living my life..." Her voice hardened. "Ryuen has to, too. We ALL have to."
"You don't understand." It was Rokou. Ryuen listened intently, bare legs dangling over the side of the bed, toes brushing lightly against the cool wood of the floor. "You don't understand," the boy repeated, his voice barely recognizable...it was strong, Ryuen realized...strong, certain, assured...so unlike Rokou...so much more like himself... "Yeah," Rokou continued, "you lost a daughter. Yeah, I lost a sister...but, Ryuen...he lost more than that. It's like...it's like he lost HIMSELF, not just Kourin. It's like he's not there anymore...like he went with her or something... They're both...they're both gone."
His mother let out a sharp gasp. "Rokou! Don't talk like that!"
A chair skidded against the floor, and then there was the sound of the boy's retreating footsteps, the squeak of the front door being tugged open. "Fine, I won't," he promised in a low voice. "But, it's true. Ryuen and Kourin...they're both gone. And, I don't think any of us can make them come back."
Then, the door slammed...and there was silence. Ryuen lay back and closed his eyes, drowned out whatever else was said...drowned out everything but his own soft, rhythmic breathing, the steady thud of his own heartbeat.
A moment later, he was asleep.
---
Someone was shaking him.
He awoke with a start, eyes flaring open, a startled breath fleeing his lungs...and felt the blood in his veins run cold, his heart freeze in his chest...she was...she was here...beside his bed...kneeling there in that soft yellow sundress, thick violet hair tumbling in waves over her tiny shoulders, slim fingers clutching onto his arm, dragging him from sleep...
"Niisama," Kourin whispered. "Niisama, get up. Get up now."
A hot, searing wetness sprang to his eyes, crept down his cheeks. "K...Kourin," he managed, crawling from the bed and placing his feet on the floor. Her hand was cool and comforting against his skin, her eyes wide and sparkling...but, there was something about her that seemed strange, something that seemed...wrong...
"Kourin," he said at last, numbly letting himself be led across the room, towards the side of the room she'd always claimed as her own. "Kourin...you're...you're dead." The last word was a whisper.
The girl turned back briefly, paused to look at him. Then, suddenly, she slid forward, wrapped her small arms around his waist, and held him tightly...the top of her head pressed against his chin, and soft tufts of violet hair tickled his flesh, made him shiver. She was...she was here...but, she wasn't...she wasn't real. He knew it...even as he felt the warmth of her small body in his arms, the heat of her breath against his cheek...he knew it wasn't real.
It was a dream. He knew it, now...Kourin...Kourin wasn't really here.
His sister released him, took a step back and stared up into his eyes. She giggled, then, very softly, and reached out a hand, touched it lightly to his cheek. "Silly," she said, smiling softly. "Of course I'm really here. Just 'cause it's a dream doesn't mean it's not real."
She grabbed onto his hand, then, tugged him to the other side of the room...and stopped. One finger lanced out, pointed at the top drawer of her bureau. "There," she announced, a note of finality in her tone. "That's where you'll find it." She turned, smiled up at him. "Don't worry, Niisama. She'll help you." A soft giggle slipped from her lips, and he watched as she grabbed onto his hands, held them loosely, playfully. "But, you have to love her, Niisama," she commanded, eying him sternly. "You have to love her." She smiled. "But, I know you will."
Something stabbed into him, made him draw a sharp breath. Abruptly, the world began to fade out around him, to draw him back to reality and his own bed... No...no...it was...it was ending?
Kourin nodded slowly, sadly. "Hai, Niisama. It's time for me to go, now." She smiled again, sorrowfully. "You knew I had to...but it's all right, isn't it? Because, we're always together. We still are, Ryuen. We ALWAYS are."
"No," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes. "No...don't...don't leave me...onegai...Kourin...don't leave..."
"Gomen, Niisama...I have to."
She was fading...drifting away into the darkness...leaving him...leaving him forever!!...no...no, why? Why? She was here, she was so close he could FEEL her...why did she have to go? Why did she have to...have to...
He stopped. Something...something had changed.
He felt the change in the very deepest part of his heart, felt it explode in the dark spot of his mind, the very core of his soul...it was...it was HER. She was changing...growing, expanding, learning, living...but, always growing...always growing...and as he looked at her for that one, last, shining instant, he saw that she was beautiful...tall, slender, and clad in a flowing wisp of violet silk, matching hair washing over her shoulders, fluttering around her face... She was beautiful...grown...perfect. Her lips, full and painted a glistening rose, lifted, and she looked down at him, spoke soft, warm words in the voice he'd never heard...but, the voice he knew, unmistakably, as Kourin's...
They were strange words...words that didn't make sense, words that made him frown, question, wonder...but, words that, somehow, somewhere, struck a chord...words that MEANT something somewhere within him.
"Don't cry, my lovely, weeping willow," the woman before him whispered, and he felt those soft fingers brush against his face, warm, strong arms hold him close. "Don't cry...my Nuriko."
Then, it all faded...and he woke up.
---
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: Uhhhh...whoops...uh...kinda got a little sidetracked with the writing-about-Nuriko's-past thing... *wide smile* Anyway...er...let me know, eh? If the flashbacks are getting too tedious (I still have a bit more to go on this one, actually), I'll do my best to get back to the ACTUAL storyline. :) But...er...yes. Leave me a review and I'll name my firstborn after you...or...well, maybe my fish. *shrug*
*AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Any "mush" in this chapter is Tasuki's fault. Three words: Setsuna Kutemo Zutto. *nod nod nod* Damn it, Tasuki. *smacks Tasuki into a wall*
~ ~ ~
Miaka's eyes were wide and horrified, one hand pressed tightly against her lips. "Oh...oh, Nuriko," she managed at last, staring at the suddenly-fragile-looking boy beside her with pain in her eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry."
He shrugged a bit uncomfortably, folded his slender arms carefully over his chest. "It wasn't your fault, Miaka. It was...it was mine." His voice was low, thick with the pain of the memories...the pain of his guilt. After another long moment of silent introspection, Nuriko drew in a long breath, let it out slowly through his nostrils. He turned to her then, the ghost of a smile twisting his lips upward, bringing a new and welcome warmth into his eyes. "Anyway...if it weren't for you..." His eyes closed, and that soft smile lifted upwards, just a bit. "If it weren't for you...helping me through it...I don't know what I would've done."
She stared at him with wide eyes. "I...I helped you through it?"
Nuriko inclined his head a fraction of an inch, smiled at her warmly. "Hai." His slender fingers twisted together in his lap, trembled just noticeably. "You helped me...more than you'll ever know, Miaka."
---
Seven Years Earlier
~*~*~*~
It was morning again...at least, he thought it was. Weakly, he lifted his head, peered out at the world through a thick haze of dark eyelashes...and winced as a shaft of sunlight pierced into his vision, left him blinded and in pain. Groaning, Ryuen lay back, tugged the covers back over his head. His breath was warm and moist against his cheeks, echoing back at him from the soft prison of the covers, making it difficult to breathe...reality sliced into him, then, made him remember.
This was no ordinary day...the...the funeral was today.
Much to his surprise, he didn't feel that horrible welling sensation in his throat as the thought flitted through his mind...he didn't scream or cry or rip at the lightly-bandaged wound on his shoulder like he'd been doing the past few days...no. He just lay there, staring up into the darkness of his blankets, suffocating slowly on the warmth of his own breath. Kourin was...gone. And, even though he knew that, somewhere within him, it still hurt...right now, he didn't feel a thing. Everything...his heart, his mind...it was all numb today...he was just a shell...nothing left inside to feel...nothing. Nothing left.
At last, he tossed the heavy blankets back from his face and chest, drew in a long, cool breath of morning air, let it fill his lungs, cleanse his mind... It was Tuesday. Saturday seemed so long ago...but, it was only, what, three days ago? God. Three days. Kourin had been dead for three days...
A brief prickle of pain stabbed into his heart, pierced through the numbness for an instant.
//Three days ago right now...Kourin was still alive. Three days ago right now...everything was fine. Everything was perfect.\\
"Ryuuuuuuuuen!" The high, light voice of his mother echoed from downstairs, snapped him back to reality. "Ryuen, are you awake? Come down to breakfast!"
"Stop being so damned cheerful," came the low, angry murmur of his father's voice. There was the ruffle of newspaper, then, and the sound of a chair being pushed over the smooth linoleum of the kitchen floor. "Give him time," the low voice continued. "If he doesn't feel like coming down to breakfast, he doesn't have to."
His mother's voice, hushed and harsh, chimed in then, shattered the soothing bass of his father's words. "No. I will not let him spend the rest of his life in that room. All he does is lie up there and sleep or sit on her bed and stare up at the ceiling. He has to deal with this! You KNOW that. If we keep letting him lay up there all day and don't help him come back to reality, he's never going to be able to get over this. Look, I've...I've lost my daughter. My only daughter...I've lost her...but, I'm still going on, I'm still living my life..." Her voice hardened. "Ryuen has to, too. We ALL have to."
"You don't understand." It was Rokou. Ryuen listened intently, bare legs dangling over the side of the bed, toes brushing lightly against the cool wood of the floor. "You don't understand," the boy repeated, his voice barely recognizable...it was strong, Ryuen realized...strong, certain, assured...so unlike Rokou...so much more like himself... "Yeah," Rokou continued, "you lost a daughter. Yeah, I lost a sister...but, Ryuen...he lost more than that. It's like...it's like he lost HIMSELF, not just Kourin. It's like he's not there anymore...like he went with her or something... They're both...they're both gone."
His mother let out a sharp gasp. "Rokou! Don't talk like that!"
A chair skidded against the floor, and then there was the sound of the boy's retreating footsteps, the squeak of the front door being tugged open. "Fine, I won't," he promised in a low voice. "But, it's true. Ryuen and Kourin...they're both gone. And, I don't think any of us can make them come back."
Then, the door slammed...and there was silence. Ryuen lay back and closed his eyes, drowned out whatever else was said...drowned out everything but his own soft, rhythmic breathing, the steady thud of his own heartbeat.
A moment later, he was asleep.
---
Someone was shaking him.
He awoke with a start, eyes flaring open, a startled breath fleeing his lungs...and felt the blood in his veins run cold, his heart freeze in his chest...she was...she was here...beside his bed...kneeling there in that soft yellow sundress, thick violet hair tumbling in waves over her tiny shoulders, slim fingers clutching onto his arm, dragging him from sleep...
"Niisama," Kourin whispered. "Niisama, get up. Get up now."
A hot, searing wetness sprang to his eyes, crept down his cheeks. "K...Kourin," he managed, crawling from the bed and placing his feet on the floor. Her hand was cool and comforting against his skin, her eyes wide and sparkling...but, there was something about her that seemed strange, something that seemed...wrong...
"Kourin," he said at last, numbly letting himself be led across the room, towards the side of the room she'd always claimed as her own. "Kourin...you're...you're dead." The last word was a whisper.
The girl turned back briefly, paused to look at him. Then, suddenly, she slid forward, wrapped her small arms around his waist, and held him tightly...the top of her head pressed against his chin, and soft tufts of violet hair tickled his flesh, made him shiver. She was...she was here...but, she wasn't...she wasn't real. He knew it...even as he felt the warmth of her small body in his arms, the heat of her breath against his cheek...he knew it wasn't real.
It was a dream. He knew it, now...Kourin...Kourin wasn't really here.
His sister released him, took a step back and stared up into his eyes. She giggled, then, very softly, and reached out a hand, touched it lightly to his cheek. "Silly," she said, smiling softly. "Of course I'm really here. Just 'cause it's a dream doesn't mean it's not real."
She grabbed onto his hand, then, tugged him to the other side of the room...and stopped. One finger lanced out, pointed at the top drawer of her bureau. "There," she announced, a note of finality in her tone. "That's where you'll find it." She turned, smiled up at him. "Don't worry, Niisama. She'll help you." A soft giggle slipped from her lips, and he watched as she grabbed onto his hands, held them loosely, playfully. "But, you have to love her, Niisama," she commanded, eying him sternly. "You have to love her." She smiled. "But, I know you will."
Something stabbed into him, made him draw a sharp breath. Abruptly, the world began to fade out around him, to draw him back to reality and his own bed... No...no...it was...it was ending?
Kourin nodded slowly, sadly. "Hai, Niisama. It's time for me to go, now." She smiled again, sorrowfully. "You knew I had to...but it's all right, isn't it? Because, we're always together. We still are, Ryuen. We ALWAYS are."
"No," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes. "No...don't...don't leave me...onegai...Kourin...don't leave..."
"Gomen, Niisama...I have to."
She was fading...drifting away into the darkness...leaving him...leaving him forever!!...no...no, why? Why? She was here, she was so close he could FEEL her...why did she have to go? Why did she have to...have to...
He stopped. Something...something had changed.
He felt the change in the very deepest part of his heart, felt it explode in the dark spot of his mind, the very core of his soul...it was...it was HER. She was changing...growing, expanding, learning, living...but, always growing...always growing...and as he looked at her for that one, last, shining instant, he saw that she was beautiful...tall, slender, and clad in a flowing wisp of violet silk, matching hair washing over her shoulders, fluttering around her face... She was beautiful...grown...perfect. Her lips, full and painted a glistening rose, lifted, and she looked down at him, spoke soft, warm words in the voice he'd never heard...but, the voice he knew, unmistakably, as Kourin's...
They were strange words...words that didn't make sense, words that made him frown, question, wonder...but, words that, somehow, somewhere, struck a chord...words that MEANT something somewhere within him.
"Don't cry, my lovely, weeping willow," the woman before him whispered, and he felt those soft fingers brush against his face, warm, strong arms hold him close. "Don't cry...my Nuriko."
Then, it all faded...and he woke up.
---
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: Uhhhh...whoops...uh...kinda got a little sidetracked with the writing-about-Nuriko's-past thing... *wide smile* Anyway...er...let me know, eh? If the flashbacks are getting too tedious (I still have a bit more to go on this one, actually), I'll do my best to get back to the ACTUAL storyline. :) But...er...yes. Leave me a review and I'll name my firstborn after you...or...well, maybe my fish. *shrug*
*AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Any "mush" in this chapter is Tasuki's fault. Three words: Setsuna Kutemo Zutto. *nod nod nod* Damn it, Tasuki. *smacks Tasuki into a wall*