"The Last Wish" - continued from 6
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[Seven Years Earlier...continued...continued continued continued... *sweatdrop*]
~ ~ ~
The words were still ringing in his ears when he awoke to the touch of his father's hand on his arm. He snapped awake, fingers automatically clutching at the hand on his shoulder.
"Ryuen...Ryuen, it's just me..."
He stared at his father for a long moment, at the thick, dark hair, the kind blue eyes, the light shadows of his unshaven cheeks...and felt the memories of the dream come flooding back to him in full force, the memories of Kourin's fingers on his arm, Kourin's voice in his ears... His eyes widening, Ryuen rose from the bed, pushed past his startled father, and walked to the other side of the room. His bare feet slapped quietly against the floorboards, followed by the deeper, heavier thud of his father's boots.
"Ryuen? Ryuen...what are you doing?"
The boy said nothing, merely moved. A moment later, he stood before that familiar bureau, a rich, deep mahogany wood, on which sat neatly-stacked papers, books, and a few of Kourin's unicorn figurines...God, he missed her... But...but, no. This wasn't the time for that...she'd sent him here for a reason...she'd TOLD him to go here, to...to look in here...and, so he would.
Reaching forward with trembling hands, Ryuen let his fingers brush against the cool metal of the draw handle, felt a ripple of inexplicable fear slice through him...what had she meant? What was he going to find in here? And...and, who had the "she" been that she'd spoken of? The one he was supposed to love?
He felt the weight of his father's presence behind him, the sound of his heavy breathing just off his right shoulder. "Ryuen," the man said quietly. "Those are Kourin's things...come on. We have to get you dressed for the funeral."
Ryuen only shook his head, wrapped his fingers around the brass handle...and pulled. And, with no dramatics or flair whatsoever, the drawer slid quietly open.
He peered in with wide, curious eyes, leaning close to the drawer, looking for whatever it was he was supposed to "find" here...there was the usual neatly-piled stack of papers, the front leg from one of the broken figurines, Kourin's copy of The Last Unicorn, and a pile of assorted jewelry. He frowned, shifting through the papers, searching for something to catch his eye...what was he supposed to find? The icy weight of doubt sliced into him, then, made the frown deepen...had he just imagined the whole thing? Had it REALLY just been a dream??
"No," he murmured, again feeling the sting of the tears welling in his eyes. "No...no, it has to be here...it...it has to be..."
A heavy hand pressed against his shoulder. "Ryuen," came the quiet, pained voice of his father. "Ryuen, what are you looking for?"
He didn't answer...he couldn't...he lifted the papers from the drawer, set them down on the top of the desk, shuffled them around so most of the text was visible, scanned them...nothing...just old school papers... Biting down on his lower lip to force back the tears, he reached in for the next item, the book... He hefted it, glanced at the inside cover, at the back, flipped through the pages...
Nothing.
The strength bled abruptly from his legs and he sank to the floor, weeping softly. It had just been a dream. Kourin...Kourin hadn't really come to him...he'd imagined it all...he'd imagined it all because he'd wanted to, because he'd needed to see her so badly...but, he hadn't really. But...but, if he hadn't, then why had he heard all those strange words? And, the one...the one that resonated deeply with him, the one he knew as his own even though he'd never heard it before except from her lips...
Nuriko.
No. NO. There had to be something here...there had to be! Setting his teeth firmly, Ryuen rose to his feet, pulled the drawer open the rest of the way with a violent tug...and paused, frowning, as a flash of silver caught his eye. He leaned closer to the drawer, peering down into the depths of it, and reached down into it, touched his fingers lightly against the pile of jewelry...Kourin's jewelry...necklaces and bracelets she would never wear again...
As he lifted his hand from the drawer to wipe at the tears leaking through his eyelashes, his fingers brushed, briefly, against the cool metal of a large, jeweled bracelet...and, he froze. Frowning, eyes wide and still wet from the tears, he lifted the hand again, let his palm touch against the cool metal again...and, again, felt that tingle of power, that ripple of...of RIGHTNESS... Shaking, he grabbed onto the bracelet, lifted it from the drawer and stared at it.
It was made of a thin, silvery metal, adorned with a single, sparkling green jewel, and decorated sparsely with slim strips of gold and other designs...he frowned, then, gazing at it in the light...it was so large...experimentally, he slipped it onto his thin wrist, pushed on it...gods, it could reach nearly to his shoulder... Kourin never could've worn it...so, why did she have it? Was this...was this what he was supposed to find, what she'd been leading him to?
But, why??
His father cleared his throat, staring down at him with large, sorrowful eyes. "R...Ryuen..."
He closed his eyes. Standing here, the bracelet hanging loosely from his wrist, the familiar, flowery fragrance of his sister all around him...he let his eyes drift open, gazed at himself in the thin mirror hanging over the bureau. His hair had fallen from its usual ponytail and lay in scattered waves over his shoulders, wisps of bangs hanging unevenly over his eyes. He let his eyes go unfocused, gazed at the figure in the mirror, at the sparkle of silver on his wrist, the thick violet waves of his hair...God. He looked just like her.
It was...it was like she was still here...like she lived in him...
"Ryuen..."
He opened his eyes, gazed up at his father. "Don't call me that anymore," he murmured, pushing past the man, moving silently to the nearby closet. His fingers brushed against the soft, smooth silk of her dresses, clutched onto the thicker cotton of her lacy white dress shirts. Why...if he...if he wore one of these...if he... God, he would look just like her...just like her...
He drew one of the dresses from the closet, held it against his chest and closed his eyes. That light, flowery scent still clung to the fabric, filled his nostrils, reminded him of days not so long ago when she was still here, still alive and breathing and laughing...God, he missed her... She...she couldn't be gone, could she? No...not...not really...she couldn't. What had she said, in the dream?
/It's all right, isn't it? Because, we're always together. We still are...we ALWAYS are...\
"Yes," he murmured. "Together. We always are..."
He turned, pulling the dress with him, only half-noticing that his father had left the room sometime between when he was standing at the bureau and when he crossed to the closet...but, it didn't matter...because...because, he could make Kourin come back...yes. After all, it was his fault, wasn't it? HE should be the one to die, not her...she was innocent. Wasn't even her fault, really...it was his...he was a murderer...her murderer...and, murderers had to die, didn't they?...so, he would die. Yes...yes, he would die, and Kourin could come back...it was fair, it was perfect...it would work... All he had to do was...was get everything ready so Kourin could come back...and, she would...of course she would! Because, they were always together...no matter what...
Kourin wasn't gone... It was HIS fault she hadn't been able to come back yet...he was still here, and so how could she come back with him still here? He was the one who was supposed to have died...it was just a mix-up...a mix-up, so he would fix it...he would make it right... Ryuen was dead. Not Kourin. Kourin was too good to die...too...too young, too good, too innocent...yes. So, Ryuen must be dead.
He had to set things right...he had to...to make up for it all...he had to... The tears stung his eyes, but he moved anyway, crossed to the room's only door and slammed it shut. His fingers twisted the lock into place, and then he returned to the bureau, lowered himself into Kourin's chair. He was taller than her, just a little...but, that was all right...everything else...it was okay...it would be okay... He tugged off his nightshirt, slipped his sweatpants down over his ankles and tossed them vaguely in the direction of the other side of the room...the dress was soft and silken against his skin, and although it came only to his shins when it should've come closer to his ankles...it was okay.
He gazed at himself in the mirror, felt a ripple of hope surge through him...but, no...it wasn't right, yet...it wasn't PERFECT yet...he tugged open the bottom drawer of the bureau, tugged out a small tin of lip gloss and a box of assorted hairstyling items...he'd seen her do this a thousand times, had watched those small fingers twisting and turning the hair into elaborate twists and braids...he would just have to settle for something less-difficult, but in time...in time, he knew he could learn to make it perfect...he could learn--it would be all right...he would make it perfect...perfect, because Kourin hated disorder...she hated it when things weren't perfect and clean and good...so, he would make it perfect. Yes...perfect.
Vaguely aware of the streaks of salty liquid dripping over his cheeks, he set to work on the task of braiding his long hair, ignoring the calls of his parents and brother, ignoring the thuds of angry footsteps outside the door...ignoring everything but the task at hand...and the slow ressurrection of his sister in the mirror before him.
Soon, everything would be right again. Soon...Kourin would be back.
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[Seven Years Earlier...continued...continued continued continued... *sweatdrop*]
~ ~ ~
The words were still ringing in his ears when he awoke to the touch of his father's hand on his arm. He snapped awake, fingers automatically clutching at the hand on his shoulder.
"Ryuen...Ryuen, it's just me..."
He stared at his father for a long moment, at the thick, dark hair, the kind blue eyes, the light shadows of his unshaven cheeks...and felt the memories of the dream come flooding back to him in full force, the memories of Kourin's fingers on his arm, Kourin's voice in his ears... His eyes widening, Ryuen rose from the bed, pushed past his startled father, and walked to the other side of the room. His bare feet slapped quietly against the floorboards, followed by the deeper, heavier thud of his father's boots.
"Ryuen? Ryuen...what are you doing?"
The boy said nothing, merely moved. A moment later, he stood before that familiar bureau, a rich, deep mahogany wood, on which sat neatly-stacked papers, books, and a few of Kourin's unicorn figurines...God, he missed her... But...but, no. This wasn't the time for that...she'd sent him here for a reason...she'd TOLD him to go here, to...to look in here...and, so he would.
Reaching forward with trembling hands, Ryuen let his fingers brush against the cool metal of the draw handle, felt a ripple of inexplicable fear slice through him...what had she meant? What was he going to find in here? And...and, who had the "she" been that she'd spoken of? The one he was supposed to love?
He felt the weight of his father's presence behind him, the sound of his heavy breathing just off his right shoulder. "Ryuen," the man said quietly. "Those are Kourin's things...come on. We have to get you dressed for the funeral."
Ryuen only shook his head, wrapped his fingers around the brass handle...and pulled. And, with no dramatics or flair whatsoever, the drawer slid quietly open.
He peered in with wide, curious eyes, leaning close to the drawer, looking for whatever it was he was supposed to "find" here...there was the usual neatly-piled stack of papers, the front leg from one of the broken figurines, Kourin's copy of The Last Unicorn, and a pile of assorted jewelry. He frowned, shifting through the papers, searching for something to catch his eye...what was he supposed to find? The icy weight of doubt sliced into him, then, made the frown deepen...had he just imagined the whole thing? Had it REALLY just been a dream??
"No," he murmured, again feeling the sting of the tears welling in his eyes. "No...no, it has to be here...it...it has to be..."
A heavy hand pressed against his shoulder. "Ryuen," came the quiet, pained voice of his father. "Ryuen, what are you looking for?"
He didn't answer...he couldn't...he lifted the papers from the drawer, set them down on the top of the desk, shuffled them around so most of the text was visible, scanned them...nothing...just old school papers... Biting down on his lower lip to force back the tears, he reached in for the next item, the book... He hefted it, glanced at the inside cover, at the back, flipped through the pages...
Nothing.
The strength bled abruptly from his legs and he sank to the floor, weeping softly. It had just been a dream. Kourin...Kourin hadn't really come to him...he'd imagined it all...he'd imagined it all because he'd wanted to, because he'd needed to see her so badly...but, he hadn't really. But...but, if he hadn't, then why had he heard all those strange words? And, the one...the one that resonated deeply with him, the one he knew as his own even though he'd never heard it before except from her lips...
Nuriko.
No. NO. There had to be something here...there had to be! Setting his teeth firmly, Ryuen rose to his feet, pulled the drawer open the rest of the way with a violent tug...and paused, frowning, as a flash of silver caught his eye. He leaned closer to the drawer, peering down into the depths of it, and reached down into it, touched his fingers lightly against the pile of jewelry...Kourin's jewelry...necklaces and bracelets she would never wear again...
As he lifted his hand from the drawer to wipe at the tears leaking through his eyelashes, his fingers brushed, briefly, against the cool metal of a large, jeweled bracelet...and, he froze. Frowning, eyes wide and still wet from the tears, he lifted the hand again, let his palm touch against the cool metal again...and, again, felt that tingle of power, that ripple of...of RIGHTNESS... Shaking, he grabbed onto the bracelet, lifted it from the drawer and stared at it.
It was made of a thin, silvery metal, adorned with a single, sparkling green jewel, and decorated sparsely with slim strips of gold and other designs...he frowned, then, gazing at it in the light...it was so large...experimentally, he slipped it onto his thin wrist, pushed on it...gods, it could reach nearly to his shoulder... Kourin never could've worn it...so, why did she have it? Was this...was this what he was supposed to find, what she'd been leading him to?
But, why??
His father cleared his throat, staring down at him with large, sorrowful eyes. "R...Ryuen..."
He closed his eyes. Standing here, the bracelet hanging loosely from his wrist, the familiar, flowery fragrance of his sister all around him...he let his eyes drift open, gazed at himself in the thin mirror hanging over the bureau. His hair had fallen from its usual ponytail and lay in scattered waves over his shoulders, wisps of bangs hanging unevenly over his eyes. He let his eyes go unfocused, gazed at the figure in the mirror, at the sparkle of silver on his wrist, the thick violet waves of his hair...God. He looked just like her.
It was...it was like she was still here...like she lived in him...
"Ryuen..."
He opened his eyes, gazed up at his father. "Don't call me that anymore," he murmured, pushing past the man, moving silently to the nearby closet. His fingers brushed against the soft, smooth silk of her dresses, clutched onto the thicker cotton of her lacy white dress shirts. Why...if he...if he wore one of these...if he... God, he would look just like her...just like her...
He drew one of the dresses from the closet, held it against his chest and closed his eyes. That light, flowery scent still clung to the fabric, filled his nostrils, reminded him of days not so long ago when she was still here, still alive and breathing and laughing...God, he missed her... She...she couldn't be gone, could she? No...not...not really...she couldn't. What had she said, in the dream?
/It's all right, isn't it? Because, we're always together. We still are...we ALWAYS are...\
"Yes," he murmured. "Together. We always are..."
He turned, pulling the dress with him, only half-noticing that his father had left the room sometime between when he was standing at the bureau and when he crossed to the closet...but, it didn't matter...because...because, he could make Kourin come back...yes. After all, it was his fault, wasn't it? HE should be the one to die, not her...she was innocent. Wasn't even her fault, really...it was his...he was a murderer...her murderer...and, murderers had to die, didn't they?...so, he would die. Yes...yes, he would die, and Kourin could come back...it was fair, it was perfect...it would work... All he had to do was...was get everything ready so Kourin could come back...and, she would...of course she would! Because, they were always together...no matter what...
Kourin wasn't gone... It was HIS fault she hadn't been able to come back yet...he was still here, and so how could she come back with him still here? He was the one who was supposed to have died...it was just a mix-up...a mix-up, so he would fix it...he would make it right... Ryuen was dead. Not Kourin. Kourin was too good to die...too...too young, too good, too innocent...yes. So, Ryuen must be dead.
He had to set things right...he had to...to make up for it all...he had to... The tears stung his eyes, but he moved anyway, crossed to the room's only door and slammed it shut. His fingers twisted the lock into place, and then he returned to the bureau, lowered himself into Kourin's chair. He was taller than her, just a little...but, that was all right...everything else...it was okay...it would be okay... He tugged off his nightshirt, slipped his sweatpants down over his ankles and tossed them vaguely in the direction of the other side of the room...the dress was soft and silken against his skin, and although it came only to his shins when it should've come closer to his ankles...it was okay.
He gazed at himself in the mirror, felt a ripple of hope surge through him...but, no...it wasn't right, yet...it wasn't PERFECT yet...he tugged open the bottom drawer of the bureau, tugged out a small tin of lip gloss and a box of assorted hairstyling items...he'd seen her do this a thousand times, had watched those small fingers twisting and turning the hair into elaborate twists and braids...he would just have to settle for something less-difficult, but in time...in time, he knew he could learn to make it perfect...he could learn--it would be all right...he would make it perfect...perfect, because Kourin hated disorder...she hated it when things weren't perfect and clean and good...so, he would make it perfect. Yes...perfect.
Vaguely aware of the streaks of salty liquid dripping over his cheeks, he set to work on the task of braiding his long hair, ignoring the calls of his parents and brother, ignoring the thuds of angry footsteps outside the door...ignoring everything but the task at hand...and the slow ressurrection of his sister in the mirror before him.
Soon, everything would be right again. Soon...Kourin would be back.
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