A/N:
I'm back! :D Yes after a long absence due to writer's block, and a whole
heap of real life matters to attend to, I am finally back. And I need to thank
everyone, everyone, for your emails, reviews and comments in my blog encouraging
me to come back and write. Without you guys I wouldn't have had the motivation
to pull through, so thank you. Hope you guys enjoy this part!
And yes, criticism is always welcomed :)
Chapter 1: So Close, So Far
Sasuke was home. The corridor lights, dim as they were, seemed to beckon him
to follow their passage. Knowing his guardian, the only illumination this house
would have would be those that would lead him all the way to Sasuke's room.
Finding himself too exhausted, he instead plodded into the dark living room. The nights were still freezing despite spring being just around the corner, and despite all attempts to persuade him otherwise Old Okina was venomously against keeping the heater turned on throughout the night. For that reason, amongst others, Sasuke made his way by feel alone towards the large fireplace that dominated almost an entire wall. Within a few minutes, and after a few false starts, a cheery fire flooded the room with pleasant heat and golden light.
The large black leather chair was still there. A little worn after at least fourteen years of use, but was still comfortable. He crawled onto it, shrugging out of his damp coat and left it crumpled beside the chair.
Now he took the photo out, holding it carefully and tilting it slightly so the orange light of the fire illuminated the picture. A wry smile touched his lips briefly; how many times, exactly, had he tried to duplicate this exact scene? There was his mother, in the very same chair he was sitting in now, dozing by the very fireplace he had just lit.
Somewhere in the back of Sasuke's mind, a tiny voice mocked him for his pathetic attempts at trying to 'connect' with his parents.
But now he was simply content to look at the photo. The flickering of the flames brought the picture to life; shadows in the background shifted, the light played over his mother's curled up form. Sasuke could almost see the shifting strands of her hair as she stirred in the photo. The small movement as she absently brushed a lock of hair away from her face.
Eh? He blinked. Was that his imagination?
The figure in the photo shifted again. His grip must have relaxed, for the photo slipped from his grasp, fluttering into the fireplace. "No!" he yelped as the flames eagerly embraced the photo.
He stumbled out of the chair after it. His hand darted into the flames, trying
to ignore the pain as he groped wildly for it; that was his best picture of
his mother
There was no pain. There was no picture.
Now Sasuke was really confused.
What should have been a single piece of plastic was now a thick book, its pages yellowing before bursting into merry flames, its cover slowly curling in the blistering heat.
What's happening?
His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door. Automatically Sasuke glanced at his watch - 2.30am. "Okina?" he called out, climbing to his feet and turning to face the open doorway. No, it couldn't be the old man. He never slept later than midnight. "Hannya?"
A soft rustling of someone taking his coat off, followed by footsteps as a figure strode into the living room.
Sasuke's breath caught. The sudden lump that had appeared in his throat was gleefully constricting it. He couldn't take his eyes off the man who turned briefly to hang a long white coat on a convenient peg.
Shinomori Aoshi stood there, tall and silent, his eyes scanning the room. Sasuke
felt his father's gaze sweep over him, unseeing, before resting on the black
armchair.
Takani Megumi was curled there, fast asleep, clad only in a simple oversized
shirt. She was resting on her side, her legs pulled up to her chest whilst her
cheek was pillowed by her palm. The other hand dangled over the side of the
chair.
She looked exactly like she did in her picture.
Sasuke looked back at his father. The lump in his throat seemed to have grown into gargantuan proportions, and he was suddenly aware that his mouth was hanging open. However, Aoshi paid him no attention as he was still watching the peacefully sleeping Megumi.
Then his father's electric eyes met his own.
"Father?" Sasuke whispered, not really believing his father was actually there, but helpless against the hope blossoming in his chest. His father was there, and he was looking at him!
Words could not express the hope that filled his entire being, and could not
express his shock when his father calmly drew his kodachi that hung loosely
by his side.
The weapon sang as it slid free from the long sheath, the light of the fire
turning the silver metal into flaming gold.
Sasuke cried out in shock as in the very next second, the blade passed through him harmlessly to strike an object in the fireplace.
As it withdrew, Sasuke watched numbly as his father inspected the book dangling forlornly on the tip of the weapon, pulling it off to have a closer look at the spine and re-sheathing the sword in a single fluid motion. There was no change in Aoshi's expression, not a single acknowledgement to his son.
Megumi shifted slightly then; both Aoshi and Sasuke glanced her way. In that moment, Sasuke realized, eerily, that his father moved just like he did.
Or rather, he moved just like his father did.
Megumi's restlessness caused a lock of her hair to fall into her face, but Aoshi's hand tucked it back behind her ear. Sasuke noted his father's fingers slowed to absently stroke the silky strands, his touch lingering a second more than normal courtesy would have allowed him.
Meanwhile, Megumi mumbled softly, but settled back into calm slumber.
Still holding on to the burnt book, Aoshi headed back to the corridor, slipping
the white coat back on, and the soft click of the door announced his departure.
It could have been minutes or hours, but it felt as though it was only seconds;
such was the twisting of time when in a vision. But now Aoshi had reappeared,
this time with a brand new book in hand. Sasuke almost bit through his lip in
shock as his father walked through him to lay the book gently in Megumi's lap.
Aoshi then opened the book to a random page, turned to pick up a poker to stoke
the fire a little, then left the living room as fast as he had come. From where
Sasuke was standing, he saw his father disappear down the hall into the study,
the door shutting with a finality that was like a slap to the face.
Sasuke's insides wrenched horribly, and he fell down onto his knees.
Vision or no, his mother was so close to him that he could see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, so close that he could almost see the individual eyelashes hiding her eyes that were so unlike his. And she looked so at peace with herself had she been that way when Sasuke was born? Had she been happy, to see her son? When she left him?
"Mom?" Sasuke whispered, reaching a hand out hesitantly, watching as it passed without resistance through his mother's sleeping form.
His hand clenched into a fist as hot tears trickled down his pale cheeks.
They were so close! They were always so close, but he couldn't be with them regardless of what he tried. But then again, he was an idiot for hoping. His parents were gone, and no matter what happened it would never change the fact that they wouldn't ever come back.
Taking deep breaths to lessen the clenching in his chest, he sat down on the floor against the armrest, looking at Megumi's hand dangling over the side. It was so much like his own; pale, with long slim fingers suited for delicate tasks.
He wrenched his gaze away, burying his face in his arms as he pulled his knees up against him, struggling to stop crying.
Sasuke remained that way for a long time. The flames died down, the room fading into darkness, and he was still on the floor, still locked in the same position. Though he was now fast asleep, a last tear streaked down his arm.
Unseen by anyone, the rumpled coat beside him twitched slightly and slowly slid up around his shoulders to wrap itself around his sleeping form.
"the young master?"
" dawn. Couldn't"
Bleary-eyed, Sasuke woke to find two silhouettes towering over him. The blinds of the windows were drawn, and the sunlight streaming in was blinding to his tired eyes. He did, however, recognise the reproachful tone of Old Okina, and the respectful voice of Hannya.
Hannya. The last of his father's loyal men who now dedicated his life to protecting Sasuke. What from, Sasuke would never be sure of, but Hannya was a good man to have as a friend.
"Sasuke, where were you last night? I was looking for you, boy." To anyone listening, they would have thought Okina to be a concerned relative looking out for a rebellious grandson, but Sasuke knew better.
"Okina, I don't want to spend my holidays accompanying you to single bars so you can use me as a conversation piece."
Having stood up, Sasuke could now clearly make out the old man's wrinkled features, which were beaming in a bright smile, "You may look like your father, boy, but you're definitely your mother's son."
"If you think you can bribe me with more stories of my parents, you're wrong." The sudden frown on Okina's face told him the harshness was uncalled for, but right now Sasuke didn't care. The events of last night had shaken him, and what he knew to be bloodshot eyes were testimony to the emotional night.
As Sasuke made his way to his room, he heard Hannya's calm voice telling Okina that he'll have a talk with him. In his mind's eye he saw Okina nodding sadly and felt the old man wondering why Sasuke always pushed him away.
Maybe if you'd stop using my parents as bargaining chips I'd respect you more, he thought bitterly.
A homemade concoction of orange, ginger and carrot juice in hand, Sasuke left the house in a slightly happier mood. After a shower to clear his head, he had found Okina in the kitchen. After a brief talk, Old Okina had graciously granted him forgiveness for his earlier rudeness in exchange for dinner; an exchange Sasuke was more than happy to make. A sulking Okina was more than he could handle.
But now he stood outside his house, surveying it. Though an old building, it had been renovated several times over to become the handsome house it was today, complete with a two car garage, a sandstone patio and a backyard pool. The newly added third floor was Okina's idea for Sasuke's welcome home gift; an entire attic to call his room.
Sasuke took a sip from the bottle in hand, slipping on a pair of slim sunglasses. The sun was particularly harsh today.
"Do you have any plans for today, young Master?"
Though used to Hannya's sudden appearances, Sasuke was still impressed. The man stood well over six foot and despite his well-developed build, he still managed to move silently without drawing attention to himself.
It was a remarkable feat considering Hannya wore a plain mask to hide his face, from which only a single dark eye peered out of. And despite the nineteen years of Sasuke whining, begging, pleading and downright ordering him to take the mask off, Hannya never did.
"I'm going to the cemetery" was Sasuke's simply reply.
A nod from the other man, "I hope you don't mind me coming along."
Sasuke shrugged, "Does it really matter?" He would rather prefer to go alone, but he knew regardless of what he said Hannya would still follow. Why, he didn't know.
"It matters."
Sasuke found no reply to the utter conviction in the man's tone, and so he left it at that.
Sasuke could barely restrain the shudder as he stepped onto the cemetery grounds. He hated the place, with its evenly trimmed grass, the fancy hedges and the tall leafy trees. He hated the unnatural silence that seemed to be embedded into the land itself.
Then there were the other visitors. He watched them, noting how they all seemed to have another person to share their grief. He was envious of that. He was envious of the closure they had.
"Frowning does not become you, Sasuke-san." Sasuke transferred his blue-eyed gaze from the couple laying flowers at a tombstone to the man walking beside him. If Hannya was not calling him young master, it was Sasuke-san.
"You know how I feel about this place" was his only reply.
It was, Sasuke reflected, the place where his gifts had first surfaced. As a child, when Okina and Hannya had brought him here and he had so innocently let it slip out, "Okina, why are there no lights with mom and dad?"
Here was the final reason why he hated cemeteries so much. His gift to see energies and auras had a slightly unsettling side effect; he could see spirit orbs. Out in the normal world it was rare to see any floating around. But here in the cemetery where so many people were laid to rest, the barriers between the physical and the spiritual realms were blurred.
Here those who had passed had a chance to slip back into the physical world if only for a few instances, blinking into existence as spheres of ectoplasm before disappearing again. For Sasuke, a cemetery was a mass of orbs constantly winking in and out of his vision, merrily floating in mid air, each bobbling beside a tombstone, each a reminder that a loved one was never gone.
But there were none beside his parents' graves.
Now Sasuke had arrived at his parents' final resting site. Set aside from the main bulk of the cemetery, the graves were situated on a hill, shaded by a great tree whose purple flowers decorated the smooth marble of the headstones.
No lights here. No spirits to remind him his father and mother remained. To Sasuke, this area was cold and dark, devoid of the merriment the rest of the area enjoyed. And it hurt him more than he would ever care to admit.
Hannya however, perceptive as always, commented quietly, "Sasuke-san, no one is forcing you to come here."
Sasuke shook his head, "What is a son if he does not visit his parents?"
The headstones were cool to Sasuke's touch as he set incense into the appointed holders. The earthy fragrance of frankincense cleared his thoughts, and yet saddened him.
There would be no orbs to dance through the smoke.
A flash of purple caught his eye, and he saw Hannya lay an iris at the foot of a headstone, its polished golden plaque announcing, "Takani Megumi, 1984 - 2008."
"Your mother loved purple" was all the man offered.
Quietly Sasuke asked, "What else did my mother love?"
There was a short pause as both of them stared at the black and white photo
next to the plague where Megumi's serene features smiled gently at them.
"Your father." Sasuke picked up the admiration in the man's voice.
Hannya had always thought very highly of Megumi, "And you. She prized the
two of you above all others."
"Could you spare me what everyone's said, and just tell me what happened to my parents?"
"It is not for us to say, young Master." Hannya could be very gentle when he wanted to, despite his fearful appearance.
"Then who?" Sasuke pressed, unwilling to let this opportunity to slip past. If he could only persuade Hannya to tell him... "Don't lie to me, Hannya. Not here. Not in front of my parents' graves."
It was a dirty trick, and Hannya's sudden silence was an affirmation to that. Though Sasuke felt the guilt weighing down on him, he was determined to pursue the questioning.
"If you won't tell me, then who? Who can tell me what happened to my parents?" Now Sasuke's voice hardened, his words deliberately aimed to hurt, "You can't tell me it's right for a son to not know why he grew up without his parents."
There was a very long pause as Sasuke glared at the mask, willing for the person hiding behind it to meet his challenge. Before him, Shinomori Aoshi's picture watched indifferently as Takani Megumi continued her calming smile.
"No, it's not right." Hannya's soft confirmation stunned him for a moment, and he almost missed the next words, "But it was what your father wished, and I will not go against it. Neither will Okina. But you will come of age, and only then can we tell you."
"Only then? Then?" Sasuke's frustration crept into his words now, "When will your then be now?!"
"Soon" was Hannya's cryptic reply and Sasuke scowled, knowing that was the only answer Hannya would give him.
And still his mother smiled. And still his father watched.
