Disclaimer: The song is With You by Linkin Park. Flame of Recca
belongs to Anzai. Everything else is mine. Do NOT steal.
For my darling Ai.
Happy Birthday, my inamorita.
With you
In your kisses
entwined
veiled in
lust
~ my love
"It's true, isn't it. In the end, you never loved me. You only used
me. I sometimes wonder if I regret it - meeting you." He paused to
keep his voice from cracking from the hurt. "But even now, the only
thing I regret was never telling you."
The silver-haired swordsman gently laid the bouquet before the
tombstone erected in his memory. He smiled softly, tears threatening
to stain his face. Red roses. Lovers' flora.
A breeze swept by, lifting his hair, caressing it. Touching his cheek,
the way he once had. And he remembered only too vividly.
The older man reaching over to him, brushing the back of his hand
against his porcelain skin. Leaning over to him. Then slowly running
his fingers through silver strands, pulling him close, whispering into
his ear.
He shook his head. Stop taunting me. He didn't want the memories. They
were beautiful, but unbearably painful. Please. And at the very
instant, the air stilled.
"I hate you. Hate the way you played with my heart, hate wondering if
you would have even given me that second glance if you hadn't had your
duty to fulfil. And I hate the way you made me feel."
."Kami-sama, you're gorgeous." The raw admiration of his beauty was
practically dripping with desire. He nibbled at his ear. And all he
felt was a degree of intoxication like no other. It was at moments
like that, he had wished, even dared to dream, that things might have
been different. Because he was the only one.
Tears rolled off his cheek and fell to the ground. "I hate the way you
still make me feel. The way you're the only one."
.to make him feel this way.
Perhaps in another time, in another place, it might have been
possible.
Or perhaps not.
*** ***
Now I'm trapped in this memory
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake / slow to react
Even though you're close to me
You're still so distant / And I can't bring you back
*** ***
It seemed so long since they had met. Yet he could still feel the
festivity in the air that day. A masquerade organised by Mori Koran,
to make a show of good sportsmanship. The idea had struck him as
virtually hilarious. In the midst of the Ura Butou Satsujin - a life
and death tournament - the host was throwing a masked ball. It was
apparently to facilitate friendly interaction between the participants
and with sponsors of the tournament. He hardly cared, but decided to
go for the sole purpose of inspecting his potential opponents.
He went on his own, apart from the rest of the Hokage. It was the only
way to meet opponents incognito. The monkeys would just giveaway
exactly which team they were from.
So now, he stood at one corner on his own, waiting for something. Yet
for what he knew not.
And then something caught his eye. A girl about his age drifted by.
She had brown hair and was just about the height of
Yanagi. What are you doing here?
The white layers of her skirt shuffled with every move she made. There
was something so familiar about it.
Yanagi?
No. Her hair's too short.
Then the realisation dawned upon him. Nani
Nee-chan.
What kind of trick is my mind playing on me?
The girl was a living replica of Mifuyu. Right down to the pale blue
slippers that adorned her feet.
The memory burned in his mind.
He had barely understood. Why had such a tragedy struck him ~ he was
just a child. He had done nothing to deserve it.
And yet, it had happened. And there he stood, watching people he
didn't know laying flowers on his sister's dead body. Slowly, he
watched as white lilies covered his sister's equally pure gown.
Slippers a shade of the azure sky covered her feet.
She twirled across the ballroom, oblivious to any and all onlookers.
He watched as she would dance in the spring breeze. Tsurugi no enbu,
she had called it. Gracefully, she would move her arms in the wind,
swaying to the music of falling Sakura, feet following imaginary
patterns on the ground.
It was a beautiful vision ~ Pale pink raining down, obscuring a
dancing naiad clad in white, her blue-wrapped feet strangely evident,
like torn fabric fallen from the sky.
She slowly approached him, extending her open palm. "Dance with me."
His cold façade threatened to be broken as he almost obliged.
And on days when the raining petals were especially beautiful, she
would take his hand and together they would run through, soaking up
the beauty of spring.
Not that it mattered. Even without his consent, as the music began to
play, she took his hand in hers and led him onto the dance floor.
Placing his hands at her waist, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
The scent of Sakura blossoms drifted to him.
It's too much. What is she trying to do?
"Tell me, pretty boy." She leaned in to whisper into his ear.
"Don't call me that." Something about the way he felt, it wasn't
normal. I've never known this sensation, what is it?
"Tell me your name."
"That's for me to know and for you to find out." She's dangerous.
"Perhaps I will, if we meet in battle."
"Perhaps."
As the music ended, they slowly pulled away from each other.
"Perhaps, after it has ended, if we are still both alive." Her words
were hesitant and the slightest hint of sadness tinged her eyes. She
seemed loath to finish the sentence. (Why am I telling you this?)
It turned out that she would not have to.
"Ohaiyo." A tall gentleman sporting long hair flowing down his back,
black shades and a black Gucci suit approached them.
"Ohaiyo." She turned to face him. "Pardon my manners, I'd tell you who
this beauty is, if only he'd give me his name."
"You, my dear, are a poor excuse for a flirt." He tapped her nose
lightly, like an older brother taunting his imouto-chan.
He leaned in to whisper something into her ear. ("By the way, you're
cheating")
"And why would that matter to you?"
He smiled in silent reply then turned to face the younger man. "Would
you care to dance?"
There was no physical movement, any gesture that would result in
embarrassment. Only an amused girl standing beside them both.
"Joshin. Have some decency. I have a feeling the host will have a fit
if he sees two men dancing on his ballroom."
"Then give me a hand here, please, Mi-san."
"Mi-san." Their mother called out to his nee-chan.
This is unreal.
She laughed and turned away. "Come, my dear pretty boy. Let's get away
from these people."
He replied quite matter-of-factly. "First, I'm not 'your dear'.
Second, I'm no pretty boy. Third, you barely know me."
But she pretended not to have heard his comments.
And as she dragged him to an exit, he could not help but look back at
the man. There was something about him. And he wanted to know ~ just
what is this I feel?
Joshin. He repeated the name in his mind, wondering what lay behind
the rose-tinted glass.
*** ***
I hit you and you hit me back
We fall to the floor / the rest of the day stands still
*** ***
"Could it have ever worked out?"
He absentmindedly twirled a strand of silver round his index finger.
"If only you were here to say it.
"But then, of course, I already know the answer."
*** ***
"Wait here for me." The girl he knew only as Mi-san slipped away
quietly.
This exasperated him. He didn't want to wait around for her. For all
he knew, this was a ploy to attack him with his guard down.
A hand touched his shoulder. Instinctively, he spun round and twisted
the attacker's arm.
"Joshin." Upon seeing the so-called attacker's face, he immediately
released the arm.
"It's me. Who did you think?"
"No-one." But it struck him as strange. He was trained, even in his
less focused state, he should still have been able to hear someone
approaching.
"Who are you? You're a fighter in the tournament, aren't you?" He
asked the boy, apparently fixated on his face.
"Why do you ask?" He had meant the words to sound harsh, yet they came
out in a manner that suggested curiosity. He shifted uncomfortably,
the man was now drawing him into a trance. The sunglasses seemed to be
hiding more than his eyes. I want to know
The older man ignored the question thrown back at him. "Would you care
to dance?"
"Pardon?" He had thought he was only joking the first time.
"I'm asking you to dance with me. Don't look at me like that. I'm
serious." He sounded slightly offended at not being taken seriously.
"On one condition. Tell me: are you Uruha?"
"Would it matter if I was?"
He placed one arm on the man's shoulder, a promise of what his answer
would bring. "You tell me." As intriguing as he found him, he would
not submit himself to a possible enemy. But still his eyes admired the
older man.
"Don't deny yourself." Wrapping his fingers around Mikagami's slender
palm, firm tan skin against pale porcelain.
Mikagami stared down at their interlocked hands. "Let go."
"No, you let go." At those words, Mikagami realised that his
attraction to the older man was too strong for him to break. He was
rendered helpless by the charm of this stranger.
He pulled his sunglasses off, "Do you really want to know? Is that
what you want?" His gaze was so intense.
I want.
"I want." He stopped himself in time. It was too quick, he barely
understood what was going on. Was this the emotion people called
'first love'? He had never experienced it before. Even with Yanagi,
all he had felt was an overwhelming desire to protect, although at the
time, he had wondered if it had been so.
"Let me tell you what I want." He pushed the boy backwards, pinning
him to the wall.
His grey eyes peered right into the boy's cerulean orbs, leaning in
close.
I desire.
*** ***
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake / slow to react
*** ***
He smiled at the memory.
He had hardly understood himself then. That was to be blamed on
spending seven years in a dojo. For seven long years, he had trained
for his sister, letting his thirst for revenge grow, allowing his
emotions to die.
"I couldn't comprehend what I felt, didn't know what to think. But I
know now."
He had barely known what he felt. But he knew now. Hit twice on the
same night by sensations alien to him.
".And I don't think I'll ever really understand."
*** ***
Even though you're close to me
*** ***
I want you.
Mikagami slipped his arms around his waist, and pulled his body
against his own. He could feel how badly the other man wanted him.
Although the desire in the man's eyes said more than enough.
The man pressed his being against the boy, ready to claim what the
boy's look promised.
At the precise moment, the floor beneath them opened. With their arms
around each other, they had no time to react, and Mikagami wrapped his
arms around the grey-eyed man more tightly.
It was intoxicating, this feeling of falling, exploring each other's
souls with their eyes, conveying their own want.
Mikagami closed his eyes to the expectant grey orbs staring into his.
He savoured the feeling.
I'm dreaming.
He felt himself plunge into water. He let go of the man, expecting.
.It's time to wake up
An arm slipped beneath him and he felt himself lifted out of the
water.
It was strange, he felt cold, wet. Opening his eyes, he expected to
see his room ceiling. Rather, he saw the face of.
"Joshin." He practically gasped. The fall had knocked most of the air
out of him. Not to mention his longing.
The man caressed his cheek with the back of his hand. "Are you
alright?" The voice was filled with concern. It was entrancing,
enticing ~ the emotion that filled his eyes.
Mikagami reached for the hand touching his smooth, perfect skin. He
pulled it to his mouth and kissed it gently.
Shocked, the older man started backwards slightly. And Mikagami began
to fear he had read all the signs wrongly, that within his own desire
his mind had found the will to believe. Though his fears were
unwarranted, shock was soon replaced by pleasure ~ pleasure reflected
from the cerulean eyes wanting him.
"Kiss me." Mikagami was shocked to hear the raw desire in his own
voice.
A smile spread across the older man's face. He placed a hand behind
the teenager's head and lowered himself over him so their lips finally
met.
Fire spread throughout the teenager. Oh, but it was sinful ~ this
pleasure.
But much to the dismay of both them, rational thoughts disrupted the
moment. What am I doing? I'm kissing a man. I might be kissing an
enemy.
He pushed the man off him, sitting up, slowly drawing breaths of air.
The man had a look of pure satisfaction on his face.
He put his sunglasses back on.
Without those eyes staring into his, he began to think logically
again.
Shit, I just gave him my first.
"I want you."
I know. You just showed me.
Mikagami got to his feet. He pretended not to care what the man had
just said. "We need to get out." His voice returned to its usual calm
demeanour.
"Over there." He pointed at a door in the side. He seemed to be still
recovering from the exhilaration of the fall, and stealing his virgin
kiss.
As Mikagami walked away, he paused at the doorway. He doesn't even
know my name.
He turned around.
But he was already gone.
You're still so distant / And
I can't bring you back
*** ***
"Right from that point, you were playing games with me, ne?"
*** ***
"For what it's worth, I loved you ~"
It's true / the way I feel
Fireflies lit his being with an almost ethereal glow.
Was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
And the greatest tragedy is knowing the one you love is standing right
in front of you, and never being able to reach out to him.
He turned away. To leave. To move on.
In his wake, a trail of light followed.
This is for you, my love. This is for a love that I can never express.
And for that, I am sorry.
Painted on my memories
Even if you're not with me
He turned around to watch the new dawn arise. The burnished sundrops
extinguishing their luminescence.
"~ I always will."
I'm with you
No, I won't let you take me to the end of my rope
While you burn and torture my soul
No, I'm not your puppet
And, no, no, no.
I won't let you go
belongs to Anzai. Everything else is mine. Do NOT steal.
For my darling Ai.
Happy Birthday, my inamorita.
With you
In your kisses
entwined
veiled in
lust
~ my love
"It's true, isn't it. In the end, you never loved me. You only used
me. I sometimes wonder if I regret it - meeting you." He paused to
keep his voice from cracking from the hurt. "But even now, the only
thing I regret was never telling you."
The silver-haired swordsman gently laid the bouquet before the
tombstone erected in his memory. He smiled softly, tears threatening
to stain his face. Red roses. Lovers' flora.
A breeze swept by, lifting his hair, caressing it. Touching his cheek,
the way he once had. And he remembered only too vividly.
The older man reaching over to him, brushing the back of his hand
against his porcelain skin. Leaning over to him. Then slowly running
his fingers through silver strands, pulling him close, whispering into
his ear.
He shook his head. Stop taunting me. He didn't want the memories. They
were beautiful, but unbearably painful. Please. And at the very
instant, the air stilled.
"I hate you. Hate the way you played with my heart, hate wondering if
you would have even given me that second glance if you hadn't had your
duty to fulfil. And I hate the way you made me feel."
."Kami-sama, you're gorgeous." The raw admiration of his beauty was
practically dripping with desire. He nibbled at his ear. And all he
felt was a degree of intoxication like no other. It was at moments
like that, he had wished, even dared to dream, that things might have
been different. Because he was the only one.
Tears rolled off his cheek and fell to the ground. "I hate the way you
still make me feel. The way you're the only one."
.to make him feel this way.
Perhaps in another time, in another place, it might have been
possible.
Or perhaps not.
*** ***
Now I'm trapped in this memory
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake / slow to react
Even though you're close to me
You're still so distant / And I can't bring you back
*** ***
It seemed so long since they had met. Yet he could still feel the
festivity in the air that day. A masquerade organised by Mori Koran,
to make a show of good sportsmanship. The idea had struck him as
virtually hilarious. In the midst of the Ura Butou Satsujin - a life
and death tournament - the host was throwing a masked ball. It was
apparently to facilitate friendly interaction between the participants
and with sponsors of the tournament. He hardly cared, but decided to
go for the sole purpose of inspecting his potential opponents.
He went on his own, apart from the rest of the Hokage. It was the only
way to meet opponents incognito. The monkeys would just giveaway
exactly which team they were from.
So now, he stood at one corner on his own, waiting for something. Yet
for what he knew not.
And then something caught his eye. A girl about his age drifted by.
She had brown hair and was just about the height of
Yanagi. What are you doing here?
The white layers of her skirt shuffled with every move she made. There
was something so familiar about it.
Yanagi?
No. Her hair's too short.
Then the realisation dawned upon him. Nani
Nee-chan.
What kind of trick is my mind playing on me?
The girl was a living replica of Mifuyu. Right down to the pale blue
slippers that adorned her feet.
The memory burned in his mind.
He had barely understood. Why had such a tragedy struck him ~ he was
just a child. He had done nothing to deserve it.
And yet, it had happened. And there he stood, watching people he
didn't know laying flowers on his sister's dead body. Slowly, he
watched as white lilies covered his sister's equally pure gown.
Slippers a shade of the azure sky covered her feet.
She twirled across the ballroom, oblivious to any and all onlookers.
He watched as she would dance in the spring breeze. Tsurugi no enbu,
she had called it. Gracefully, she would move her arms in the wind,
swaying to the music of falling Sakura, feet following imaginary
patterns on the ground.
It was a beautiful vision ~ Pale pink raining down, obscuring a
dancing naiad clad in white, her blue-wrapped feet strangely evident,
like torn fabric fallen from the sky.
She slowly approached him, extending her open palm. "Dance with me."
His cold façade threatened to be broken as he almost obliged.
And on days when the raining petals were especially beautiful, she
would take his hand and together they would run through, soaking up
the beauty of spring.
Not that it mattered. Even without his consent, as the music began to
play, she took his hand in hers and led him onto the dance floor.
Placing his hands at her waist, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
The scent of Sakura blossoms drifted to him.
It's too much. What is she trying to do?
"Tell me, pretty boy." She leaned in to whisper into his ear.
"Don't call me that." Something about the way he felt, it wasn't
normal. I've never known this sensation, what is it?
"Tell me your name."
"That's for me to know and for you to find out." She's dangerous.
"Perhaps I will, if we meet in battle."
"Perhaps."
As the music ended, they slowly pulled away from each other.
"Perhaps, after it has ended, if we are still both alive." Her words
were hesitant and the slightest hint of sadness tinged her eyes. She
seemed loath to finish the sentence. (Why am I telling you this?)
It turned out that she would not have to.
"Ohaiyo." A tall gentleman sporting long hair flowing down his back,
black shades and a black Gucci suit approached them.
"Ohaiyo." She turned to face him. "Pardon my manners, I'd tell you who
this beauty is, if only he'd give me his name."
"You, my dear, are a poor excuse for a flirt." He tapped her nose
lightly, like an older brother taunting his imouto-chan.
He leaned in to whisper something into her ear. ("By the way, you're
cheating")
"And why would that matter to you?"
He smiled in silent reply then turned to face the younger man. "Would
you care to dance?"
There was no physical movement, any gesture that would result in
embarrassment. Only an amused girl standing beside them both.
"Joshin. Have some decency. I have a feeling the host will have a fit
if he sees two men dancing on his ballroom."
"Then give me a hand here, please, Mi-san."
"Mi-san." Their mother called out to his nee-chan.
This is unreal.
She laughed and turned away. "Come, my dear pretty boy. Let's get away
from these people."
He replied quite matter-of-factly. "First, I'm not 'your dear'.
Second, I'm no pretty boy. Third, you barely know me."
But she pretended not to have heard his comments.
And as she dragged him to an exit, he could not help but look back at
the man. There was something about him. And he wanted to know ~ just
what is this I feel?
Joshin. He repeated the name in his mind, wondering what lay behind
the rose-tinted glass.
*** ***
I hit you and you hit me back
We fall to the floor / the rest of the day stands still
*** ***
"Could it have ever worked out?"
He absentmindedly twirled a strand of silver round his index finger.
"If only you were here to say it.
"But then, of course, I already know the answer."
*** ***
"Wait here for me." The girl he knew only as Mi-san slipped away
quietly.
This exasperated him. He didn't want to wait around for her. For all
he knew, this was a ploy to attack him with his guard down.
A hand touched his shoulder. Instinctively, he spun round and twisted
the attacker's arm.
"Joshin." Upon seeing the so-called attacker's face, he immediately
released the arm.
"It's me. Who did you think?"
"No-one." But it struck him as strange. He was trained, even in his
less focused state, he should still have been able to hear someone
approaching.
"Who are you? You're a fighter in the tournament, aren't you?" He
asked the boy, apparently fixated on his face.
"Why do you ask?" He had meant the words to sound harsh, yet they came
out in a manner that suggested curiosity. He shifted uncomfortably,
the man was now drawing him into a trance. The sunglasses seemed to be
hiding more than his eyes. I want to know
The older man ignored the question thrown back at him. "Would you care
to dance?"
"Pardon?" He had thought he was only joking the first time.
"I'm asking you to dance with me. Don't look at me like that. I'm
serious." He sounded slightly offended at not being taken seriously.
"On one condition. Tell me: are you Uruha?"
"Would it matter if I was?"
He placed one arm on the man's shoulder, a promise of what his answer
would bring. "You tell me." As intriguing as he found him, he would
not submit himself to a possible enemy. But still his eyes admired the
older man.
"Don't deny yourself." Wrapping his fingers around Mikagami's slender
palm, firm tan skin against pale porcelain.
Mikagami stared down at their interlocked hands. "Let go."
"No, you let go." At those words, Mikagami realised that his
attraction to the older man was too strong for him to break. He was
rendered helpless by the charm of this stranger.
He pulled his sunglasses off, "Do you really want to know? Is that
what you want?" His gaze was so intense.
I want.
"I want." He stopped himself in time. It was too quick, he barely
understood what was going on. Was this the emotion people called
'first love'? He had never experienced it before. Even with Yanagi,
all he had felt was an overwhelming desire to protect, although at the
time, he had wondered if it had been so.
"Let me tell you what I want." He pushed the boy backwards, pinning
him to the wall.
His grey eyes peered right into the boy's cerulean orbs, leaning in
close.
I desire.
*** ***
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake / slow to react
*** ***
He smiled at the memory.
He had hardly understood himself then. That was to be blamed on
spending seven years in a dojo. For seven long years, he had trained
for his sister, letting his thirst for revenge grow, allowing his
emotions to die.
"I couldn't comprehend what I felt, didn't know what to think. But I
know now."
He had barely known what he felt. But he knew now. Hit twice on the
same night by sensations alien to him.
".And I don't think I'll ever really understand."
*** ***
Even though you're close to me
*** ***
I want you.
Mikagami slipped his arms around his waist, and pulled his body
against his own. He could feel how badly the other man wanted him.
Although the desire in the man's eyes said more than enough.
The man pressed his being against the boy, ready to claim what the
boy's look promised.
At the precise moment, the floor beneath them opened. With their arms
around each other, they had no time to react, and Mikagami wrapped his
arms around the grey-eyed man more tightly.
It was intoxicating, this feeling of falling, exploring each other's
souls with their eyes, conveying their own want.
Mikagami closed his eyes to the expectant grey orbs staring into his.
He savoured the feeling.
I'm dreaming.
He felt himself plunge into water. He let go of the man, expecting.
.It's time to wake up
An arm slipped beneath him and he felt himself lifted out of the
water.
It was strange, he felt cold, wet. Opening his eyes, he expected to
see his room ceiling. Rather, he saw the face of.
"Joshin." He practically gasped. The fall had knocked most of the air
out of him. Not to mention his longing.
The man caressed his cheek with the back of his hand. "Are you
alright?" The voice was filled with concern. It was entrancing,
enticing ~ the emotion that filled his eyes.
Mikagami reached for the hand touching his smooth, perfect skin. He
pulled it to his mouth and kissed it gently.
Shocked, the older man started backwards slightly. And Mikagami began
to fear he had read all the signs wrongly, that within his own desire
his mind had found the will to believe. Though his fears were
unwarranted, shock was soon replaced by pleasure ~ pleasure reflected
from the cerulean eyes wanting him.
"Kiss me." Mikagami was shocked to hear the raw desire in his own
voice.
A smile spread across the older man's face. He placed a hand behind
the teenager's head and lowered himself over him so their lips finally
met.
Fire spread throughout the teenager. Oh, but it was sinful ~ this
pleasure.
But much to the dismay of both them, rational thoughts disrupted the
moment. What am I doing? I'm kissing a man. I might be kissing an
enemy.
He pushed the man off him, sitting up, slowly drawing breaths of air.
The man had a look of pure satisfaction on his face.
He put his sunglasses back on.
Without those eyes staring into his, he began to think logically
again.
Shit, I just gave him my first.
"I want you."
I know. You just showed me.
Mikagami got to his feet. He pretended not to care what the man had
just said. "We need to get out." His voice returned to its usual calm
demeanour.
"Over there." He pointed at a door in the side. He seemed to be still
recovering from the exhilaration of the fall, and stealing his virgin
kiss.
As Mikagami walked away, he paused at the doorway. He doesn't even
know my name.
He turned around.
But he was already gone.
You're still so distant / And
I can't bring you back
*** ***
"Right from that point, you were playing games with me, ne?"
*** ***
"For what it's worth, I loved you ~"
It's true / the way I feel
Fireflies lit his being with an almost ethereal glow.
Was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
And the greatest tragedy is knowing the one you love is standing right
in front of you, and never being able to reach out to him.
He turned away. To leave. To move on.
In his wake, a trail of light followed.
This is for you, my love. This is for a love that I can never express.
And for that, I am sorry.
Painted on my memories
Even if you're not with me
He turned around to watch the new dawn arise. The burnished sundrops
extinguishing their luminescence.
"~ I always will."
I'm with you
No, I won't let you take me to the end of my rope
While you burn and torture my soul
No, I'm not your puppet
And, no, no, no.
I won't let you go