[Edited]: This chapter has been fully revised. *smirk*
THEN
Memories of Another Day : Prologue : The Ring
His Mediterrenean blues blinked repeatedly to clear his vision, which was made blurry by the rain that dripped from his blonde bangs straight down to his eyes. He kept on wiping water from his cheeks but the act was futile as his hands and arms were equally wet as his face, as the rest of his body. He wished he had thought of bringing an umbrella, or that it hadn't started to rain at all, but both were wishes of the past and so, of course, impossible. And even if he did have the power to make a difference in what has already been he would still be here, perhaps not soaking wet under the rain, but still here, stuck in this country, Japan.
Kuroudo didn't want to be in the Land of the Rising Sun, didn't want to fly halfway across the world to live in a place where he would start out as a complete stranger, knowing no one except himself and his parents. He wanted to be back home, in the beautiful country of France, back with his friends whose comfort he was robbed of so quickly, with the arrival of an invitation from the one person neither Kuroudo's mother nor he could say no to. His father.
Hideaki Marume was never really much of a fraternal figure. Kuroudo vaguely remembered him from the first seven years of his life in which his father was contented to live their poor but happy lifestyle in France, the country of his mother. But words of the industrialized country of Japan reached his father's ears and an exact month after Kuroudo's eighth birthday he left, to search for riches in his country. Communications were maintained, yes, but in the long absence Kuroudo's heart slowly but surely drifted from that of his father. He had been gone long, far too long, three years to be exact. And then, all too suddenly and abruptly for his half-French son, he decided to have a large part of their lives again, inviting them to live with him where they would be comfortable, if not pampered.
Of course, that wasn't what was written in his telegram. He just said he wanted his family to be together again and whole, with as little sentimentality and as much manliness as was possible. But those were Kuroudo's thoughts as he first stepped into their new house or, more appropriately, mansion. His father really had done well, far better than any of them had ever expected. Kuroudo only wished he had done so in France.
But they were now here, and there was no changing that. And with all the beautiful memories of his friends in his heart, Kuroudo had only allowed a single thing to take the tangible form of their eternal friendship, his crushgear. He yearned for it in the coldness of the rain but was glad he had not brought it out with him, in fear that water might damage its parts, or rust it. He could recall the day he first used it like it was yesterday, his first gearfight, though unofficial it may be, where he first tasted victory against another French kid who was a rich, ar---
He was harshly brought back to reality from his yet to begin trip down memory lane by the sudden halt of the downpour. He looked up only to see black waterproof cloth and metal wires. He immediately recognized them for what they were a part of, an umbrella.
"Your mother told me to leave you alone for awhile, give you time to adjust, but when the rain started..."
He shook his head. "I'm alright, Dad."
"Listen, you're going to catch a cold in these damp clothes out here. Why don't we go home and you get yourself fixed up? Your mother just made tea for when you return. Come on," his father continued, one hand already on his shoulder to steer him around. He shrugged his shoulder to get it out of his grip.
"Please," he bit out, so soft that it was almost inaudible compared to the sound of rain hitting the top of the umbrella. "Let me be. Leave me alone. Just let me...let me go," he whispered a little louder. He heard the man clear his throat, the sound succeeded by a defeated sigh moments later, and then felt something heavy fall on top of him, followed by another, lighter weight. The umbrella still hovered some feet above his head. He put on the dry, bulky jacket and the light blue plastic raincoat and mumbled an assurance to his father, before walking away.
He heard heavier footsteps going the other way.
~*~
His pants were thoroughly soaked. Coldness seeped in and made him grit his teeth but he did nothing except to kick off the soft, wet, almost muddy ground, the coarse ropes that held the swing cutting into his palms as he grasped it tightly while lifting his feet off the ground --- stretching it in front of him, then underneath his seat, then in front of him again, keeping the swing in motion. Blasts of air met him from front and behind as he moved like a pendulum, with each arc becoming wider than the last, and he felt even colder. His chest and arms were more or less warmed by the warm jacket he had over his shirt, the raincoat prevented it from getting wet, but both recently added garments only reached up to his waist and his lower limbs felt like they were freezing. Still, he did not stop.
He couldn't understand how his parents could do this him, but, much worse, he couldn't understand how he had allowed them to do this to him. He did not put up a fight when his mother told him about it, at least, not as much as one would expect from a person who had just been told that he would have to leave everything he had ever known as his life in a week. He had not protested, not sulked around but instead began at once to pack his things and figure out a plan to tell his friends without breaking their hearts.
Something no amount of planning could have he avoided.
Not one of them took it well. Their frustrated shouts echoed in his mind on his way home that day, his friends' tears on the front of his shirt, and a large bruise forming on the side of his head, courtesy of Vichie who punched him right after Avril burst into tears upon hearing the news. Up to now, Kuroudo still couldn't believe how much his arch-nemesis was affected. He went so far as to make a deal that if he beat him in a duel, Kuroudo wouldn't leave France, but Kuroudo came out victor both in fencing and gearfighting. The other blonde had stalked off angrily but Kuroudo would swear his life he had seen tears in his eyes then. Vichie disappearing around a corner was the last thing Kuroudo saw of him before he was buried under his four, sobbing best friends.
Someone was yelling. He couldn't hear it clearly because of the rain. Kuroudo tried to anchor his feet onto the ground to stop himself but they sank into the mud instead. He jerked them out and found his white running shoes ruined. He didn't care though, and stood up from the swing. The shouts became louder as he came nearer but then altogether stopped. He quickened his pace, rashly if not dangerously scaling a small slippery hill, expecting the person he had heard on the other side --- and came to an abrupt stop at what he saw.
Kuroudo's first gearfight had been outdoors, even though matches were usually done indoors on a stage. However, where he had played then was nothing near to what was before him now. Instead of a raised platform for the players, there was a clear patch of land cleared of the green grass to mark the spot where they were to stand, on level ground. For the ring itself, where the gears would be battling --- it was odd, the ground seemed to have been hollowed out. A large, open space had been dug and Kuroudo knew it was a gearfighting ring because it was the exact same size and shape. It couldn't have been anything else with such lines marked out on the packed dirt, with the release lines painted on to his surprise. It delighted Kuroudo and he knew that he would be coming to this place every single afternoon after his classes in his new school and ---
His eyes had been scanning the make-shift ring, trying to discover how rainwater hadn't filled it up yet, when they fell on a dark figure bent over something near the right end of it. Frowning, he jumped down into the ring and brisk-walked the short distance between him and the mysterious person. Kuroudo briefly wondered why though. It certainly wasn't out of concern --- the person had his own black raincoat --- so perhaps it was out of simple curiosity. He definitely hadn't been expecting anyone else beside himself out at such weather, in a gearfighting ring much less.
Only about three steps away, he hesitated. All Kuroudo could see of him was his back but the half-French knew that the person was extremely concentrated on something, otherwise he would have heard him approach. He didn't want to intrude on or disturb anything but the person did have the hood of his raincoat pulled down and it was still raining extremely hard....
"Excuse me, but are you alright?" Kuroudo asked, tentatively taking the last few steps and wincing slightly upon hearing the French accent still in his voice, he had been practicing on covering it up since he got the news. His father used to teach him both English and Japanese, something his mother continued when he left. Considering he also studied and practiced English in school while he only knew of two people who spoke Japanese, it was a surprise that he came out exceptionally fluent in the latter language, like a native, while his words in the former had always been heavily accentuated.
He saw the figure tense upon hearing his words. The other stood up and slowly turned around, slipping something into the pocket of his raincoat as he did. If it weren't for the rain, Kuroudo would have sworn it was a crushgear --- that they were inside a gearfighting ring didn't make the guess all too improbable. The moon was hidden behind storm clouds so except for a silhouette that reached up only to his shoulder with dark hair and spectacles, Kuroudo couldn't see much of the person. He was looking up though, and Kuroudo could practically feel the other's eyes on his face, taking in his blonde hair and blue eyes, if he could see them anyway.
"I'm fine, thank you," he replied in a monotone, strained sort of voice. Kuroudo had the distinct impression that the person was trying to make his voice sound different. Then, with no warning, he was running away from the blonde, making his way out of the ring.
Kuroudo was a bit surprised that he neither found it rude nor did he run after the dark figure that now had climbed back to level ground. He suddenly had this unexplainable feeling that kept him from doing either thing.
Somehow, he knew they would meet again.
to be continued...
Author's Notes: Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been thinking on how to get things back on track. See, as you might've noticed in the second chapter, I said it was raining on the day they met. If you've read this chapter before, it wasn't raining. After much deliberation, I decided to just re-write the thing. Finding out that Kuroudo was the Griffon Team Captain clinched in the decision for me. Now if I can only figure out what to do with 'My Best Friend'. It wasn't raining there either...anyways, I hope you enjoyed this update. I'll have the next chapter within this week, I suppose. Chapter dedicated to my new friend killua rucilful. Read his 'Fake Wings'. I'm not going to say it's good coz I helped write it and anything I do can't be good...
Disclaimers: I don't own CGT.
THEN
Memories of Another Day : Prologue : The Ring
His Mediterrenean blues blinked repeatedly to clear his vision, which was made blurry by the rain that dripped from his blonde bangs straight down to his eyes. He kept on wiping water from his cheeks but the act was futile as his hands and arms were equally wet as his face, as the rest of his body. He wished he had thought of bringing an umbrella, or that it hadn't started to rain at all, but both were wishes of the past and so, of course, impossible. And even if he did have the power to make a difference in what has already been he would still be here, perhaps not soaking wet under the rain, but still here, stuck in this country, Japan.
Kuroudo didn't want to be in the Land of the Rising Sun, didn't want to fly halfway across the world to live in a place where he would start out as a complete stranger, knowing no one except himself and his parents. He wanted to be back home, in the beautiful country of France, back with his friends whose comfort he was robbed of so quickly, with the arrival of an invitation from the one person neither Kuroudo's mother nor he could say no to. His father.
Hideaki Marume was never really much of a fraternal figure. Kuroudo vaguely remembered him from the first seven years of his life in which his father was contented to live their poor but happy lifestyle in France, the country of his mother. But words of the industrialized country of Japan reached his father's ears and an exact month after Kuroudo's eighth birthday he left, to search for riches in his country. Communications were maintained, yes, but in the long absence Kuroudo's heart slowly but surely drifted from that of his father. He had been gone long, far too long, three years to be exact. And then, all too suddenly and abruptly for his half-French son, he decided to have a large part of their lives again, inviting them to live with him where they would be comfortable, if not pampered.
Of course, that wasn't what was written in his telegram. He just said he wanted his family to be together again and whole, with as little sentimentality and as much manliness as was possible. But those were Kuroudo's thoughts as he first stepped into their new house or, more appropriately, mansion. His father really had done well, far better than any of them had ever expected. Kuroudo only wished he had done so in France.
But they were now here, and there was no changing that. And with all the beautiful memories of his friends in his heart, Kuroudo had only allowed a single thing to take the tangible form of their eternal friendship, his crushgear. He yearned for it in the coldness of the rain but was glad he had not brought it out with him, in fear that water might damage its parts, or rust it. He could recall the day he first used it like it was yesterday, his first gearfight, though unofficial it may be, where he first tasted victory against another French kid who was a rich, ar---
He was harshly brought back to reality from his yet to begin trip down memory lane by the sudden halt of the downpour. He looked up only to see black waterproof cloth and metal wires. He immediately recognized them for what they were a part of, an umbrella.
"Your mother told me to leave you alone for awhile, give you time to adjust, but when the rain started..."
He shook his head. "I'm alright, Dad."
"Listen, you're going to catch a cold in these damp clothes out here. Why don't we go home and you get yourself fixed up? Your mother just made tea for when you return. Come on," his father continued, one hand already on his shoulder to steer him around. He shrugged his shoulder to get it out of his grip.
"Please," he bit out, so soft that it was almost inaudible compared to the sound of rain hitting the top of the umbrella. "Let me be. Leave me alone. Just let me...let me go," he whispered a little louder. He heard the man clear his throat, the sound succeeded by a defeated sigh moments later, and then felt something heavy fall on top of him, followed by another, lighter weight. The umbrella still hovered some feet above his head. He put on the dry, bulky jacket and the light blue plastic raincoat and mumbled an assurance to his father, before walking away.
He heard heavier footsteps going the other way.
~*~
His pants were thoroughly soaked. Coldness seeped in and made him grit his teeth but he did nothing except to kick off the soft, wet, almost muddy ground, the coarse ropes that held the swing cutting into his palms as he grasped it tightly while lifting his feet off the ground --- stretching it in front of him, then underneath his seat, then in front of him again, keeping the swing in motion. Blasts of air met him from front and behind as he moved like a pendulum, with each arc becoming wider than the last, and he felt even colder. His chest and arms were more or less warmed by the warm jacket he had over his shirt, the raincoat prevented it from getting wet, but both recently added garments only reached up to his waist and his lower limbs felt like they were freezing. Still, he did not stop.
He couldn't understand how his parents could do this him, but, much worse, he couldn't understand how he had allowed them to do this to him. He did not put up a fight when his mother told him about it, at least, not as much as one would expect from a person who had just been told that he would have to leave everything he had ever known as his life in a week. He had not protested, not sulked around but instead began at once to pack his things and figure out a plan to tell his friends without breaking their hearts.
Something no amount of planning could have he avoided.
Not one of them took it well. Their frustrated shouts echoed in his mind on his way home that day, his friends' tears on the front of his shirt, and a large bruise forming on the side of his head, courtesy of Vichie who punched him right after Avril burst into tears upon hearing the news. Up to now, Kuroudo still couldn't believe how much his arch-nemesis was affected. He went so far as to make a deal that if he beat him in a duel, Kuroudo wouldn't leave France, but Kuroudo came out victor both in fencing and gearfighting. The other blonde had stalked off angrily but Kuroudo would swear his life he had seen tears in his eyes then. Vichie disappearing around a corner was the last thing Kuroudo saw of him before he was buried under his four, sobbing best friends.
Someone was yelling. He couldn't hear it clearly because of the rain. Kuroudo tried to anchor his feet onto the ground to stop himself but they sank into the mud instead. He jerked them out and found his white running shoes ruined. He didn't care though, and stood up from the swing. The shouts became louder as he came nearer but then altogether stopped. He quickened his pace, rashly if not dangerously scaling a small slippery hill, expecting the person he had heard on the other side --- and came to an abrupt stop at what he saw.
Kuroudo's first gearfight had been outdoors, even though matches were usually done indoors on a stage. However, where he had played then was nothing near to what was before him now. Instead of a raised platform for the players, there was a clear patch of land cleared of the green grass to mark the spot where they were to stand, on level ground. For the ring itself, where the gears would be battling --- it was odd, the ground seemed to have been hollowed out. A large, open space had been dug and Kuroudo knew it was a gearfighting ring because it was the exact same size and shape. It couldn't have been anything else with such lines marked out on the packed dirt, with the release lines painted on to his surprise. It delighted Kuroudo and he knew that he would be coming to this place every single afternoon after his classes in his new school and ---
His eyes had been scanning the make-shift ring, trying to discover how rainwater hadn't filled it up yet, when they fell on a dark figure bent over something near the right end of it. Frowning, he jumped down into the ring and brisk-walked the short distance between him and the mysterious person. Kuroudo briefly wondered why though. It certainly wasn't out of concern --- the person had his own black raincoat --- so perhaps it was out of simple curiosity. He definitely hadn't been expecting anyone else beside himself out at such weather, in a gearfighting ring much less.
Only about three steps away, he hesitated. All Kuroudo could see of him was his back but the half-French knew that the person was extremely concentrated on something, otherwise he would have heard him approach. He didn't want to intrude on or disturb anything but the person did have the hood of his raincoat pulled down and it was still raining extremely hard....
"Excuse me, but are you alright?" Kuroudo asked, tentatively taking the last few steps and wincing slightly upon hearing the French accent still in his voice, he had been practicing on covering it up since he got the news. His father used to teach him both English and Japanese, something his mother continued when he left. Considering he also studied and practiced English in school while he only knew of two people who spoke Japanese, it was a surprise that he came out exceptionally fluent in the latter language, like a native, while his words in the former had always been heavily accentuated.
He saw the figure tense upon hearing his words. The other stood up and slowly turned around, slipping something into the pocket of his raincoat as he did. If it weren't for the rain, Kuroudo would have sworn it was a crushgear --- that they were inside a gearfighting ring didn't make the guess all too improbable. The moon was hidden behind storm clouds so except for a silhouette that reached up only to his shoulder with dark hair and spectacles, Kuroudo couldn't see much of the person. He was looking up though, and Kuroudo could practically feel the other's eyes on his face, taking in his blonde hair and blue eyes, if he could see them anyway.
"I'm fine, thank you," he replied in a monotone, strained sort of voice. Kuroudo had the distinct impression that the person was trying to make his voice sound different. Then, with no warning, he was running away from the blonde, making his way out of the ring.
Kuroudo was a bit surprised that he neither found it rude nor did he run after the dark figure that now had climbed back to level ground. He suddenly had this unexplainable feeling that kept him from doing either thing.
Somehow, he knew they would meet again.
to be continued...
Author's Notes: Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been thinking on how to get things back on track. See, as you might've noticed in the second chapter, I said it was raining on the day they met. If you've read this chapter before, it wasn't raining. After much deliberation, I decided to just re-write the thing. Finding out that Kuroudo was the Griffon Team Captain clinched in the decision for me. Now if I can only figure out what to do with 'My Best Friend'. It wasn't raining there either...anyways, I hope you enjoyed this update. I'll have the next chapter within this week, I suppose. Chapter dedicated to my new friend killua rucilful. Read his 'Fake Wings'. I'm not going to say it's good coz I helped write it and anything I do can't be good...
Disclaimers: I don't own CGT.