WOOO! Second Chappy UPPP! I'm on a roll!
Falls On Me
Chapter One: Whispers of Innocence
I slowly awaken to an empty room, the same room I've had for the past three years, when I came here at the age of fifteen. It holds only a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand with a lamp. The closet at the back of the room is largely ignored. It houses a secret passageway in the case of an emergency, but I've little cause to believe any such emergency will happen upon here.
The Rebel army houses itself underground. Literally. Office cubicles line the sewers, bedrooms inhabit the catacombs of buried and forgotten cities. After the Youkai takeover, a good deal of human settlement was demolished, cemented over, and rebuilt for themselves.
Not one to rise late, I swing my feet off the bed, the comfortable and well- worn woolen blanket tangled about my legs. I smooth my bangs out of my face out of habit; the rest of my hair is up in a high ponytail. My legs squeal as I push myself into movement, and I accommodate them by grabbing a pull- up bar near my bed and stretching extensively. Relaxed, I release my grip on the bar and start towards my dresser.
The dresser has a mirror, although it has a long crack going down the middle of it. Once upon a time there was a great many pictures adorning its surface, memories of my other life. Now, a single, tiny photograph in a frame too large for it sits resentfully at the very edge of sleek wood. It's on the verge of falling off, and before I can get a good look at it, I shove it facedown.
It is my family. I am there, in the picture, as well. A child of four, untainted by either the government or puberty. My mother is a beautiful, modestly smiling woman, her eyes warm despite how tired she obviously is from taking care of my infant brother Souta, four years younger than I. My father is a goofy-looking man in glasses, not handsome but possessing some quality that draws people to him. I think it's in his smile, his gentle, humorous grin.
Last of all is Souta, in my mother's arms, an infant who paused in his squalling to look with wide-eyed interest at the camera. His eyebrows are drawn together and his lower lip protrudes in the tell-tale signs of another round of screaming.
Ahh, Souta. You had been so innocent.
Shaking myself gently from the memories before I got too deep to pull myself out, I raise my gaze to the mirror itself. Staring back at me is a younger version of my mother. Except less vibrant. I have icy blue eyes as opposed to her warm brown ones. My face isn't full and rosy-cheeked. My cheekbones are high and sharply in contrast with my starving face, my hollowed eyes and cheeks.
I haven't eaten in a long time, and even my many muscles are starting to weaken. We can only eat when food can be smuggled in, and I've heard that a shipment was coming in today.
Invigorated by this hope, I quickly pull on faded jeans and a baggy T- shirt, putting my dagger at my hip more as a habit than a precaution. I stay barefoot; shoes are hard to come by, and to wear out the ones I have on trips within our own base seems idiotic.
I shoulder open the door while I pull on my shirt. As I start my ascent up the steep stairs to the commonrooms, I forget to look down at where I'm going. I trip. I hear a squeal.
Catching myself on a stair a few steps above myself, I growl lowly in irritation and kick the foolhardy rat that felt it could rest on the stairs. Its nearly dead already from the weight I put on it; its ribcage is completely squashed and its limbs struggle weakly to run away from the pain. The rat continues to squeal in agony, and I feel the shifting tides of pity inside me.
After killing the thing via chopping its head off with my dagger, I toe it off the stairs and continue upwards.
"Kagome-chan!" yelled a girly yet strong voice.
Not even bothering to suppress a smile, I turn to face one of the few people I've known since childhood. Sango.
"Sango-chan!" I exclaim with equal delight. "Back from your assassination already?"
"Oh, yeah, it was easy-peasy," Sango waved it away a bit smugly, then started in on the details of her mission.
Sango and I had come from the same town as children. She had always been athletic, and when the drafts arrived she was automatically chosen as an assassin. My job came upon me because of my litheness and grace, as well as my ability to blend in. After being separated for nearly five years for training, we found each other again at the peak of the war. Luckily, we had been stationed in the same regiment, our missions closely linked.
Although we hadn't seen each other in a while and had been shocked to find how much we had changed, we immediately bonded as only those that knew each other when younger could. She was assigned to kill a powerful Youkai named Tenoru, and I was to provide the means for her to do so.
As children, we hadn't really been the best of friends. She had her own friends and I had mine, but because we lived near each other, all of us banded together during playtime. After meeting up again during the war, we were all but inseparable.
Our superiors, either recognizing our unwillingness to leave the other or sensing that we worked rather well together, kept us in the same regiment and often paired us with each other.
She is among the best in her trade, as I am in mine. She has earned her own handful of nicknames, but since assassins work best when their face is not seen, some of these cannot be properly attributed to her. Among the Rebels, some of us like to teasingly call her the Crimson Widow, after an old fable of a war-widow gone homicidal.
We crest the stairs and slowly I realize that she's stopped talking, but is looking ahead, her eyes dancing with excitement. I follow her along on her line of vision until I see it, and my heart jumps. In unison, we both squeal, then rush side-by-side to the food truck.
Two burly looking men and a sickly thin man step from the cabin of the truck, then grin leisurely at us in a way that only truly stupid men can. One of the burly men tips his baseball cap at us, his smile like that of a large puppy.
"Sorry, ma'am. Ma'am," he tipped his hat to the both of us, and I notice that we are the only ones here. "We'se a bit later 'n usual, on account o' we got ourselves held up by them Youkai 'thorities. Hope ya'll haven't been too hungry."
I glare somewhat coldly at the well-meaning man, and Sango hurriedly speaks to cover up for my rudeness. "We've been quite alright, don't worry about us." She offers the three men a smile.
I roll my eyes at the niceties and start in on the food. A lot of it is canned, and whatever bread there is looks half-moldy. The rice, however, is stored well and looks like it'll keep, and I nod approvingly at the men, who relax.
The sickly thin man takes his straw hat from his head and bows clumsily to us. "Welp, then, we'll just git them there foods an' stuff up to the storage."
"You do that. I'll report to the General of your arrival, and see to it that you three have some ample rooms to recuperate in for your stay here. How long are you staying?" my manner is brusque, my words clipped.
The large puppy of a man that had tipped his hat earlier smiled at me and Sango... particularly at her, I noticed. She did too, for she started to look uncomfortable at his childish worship. "We'se only gonna stay about 'nother week or so... we'se gots to get them food to the otha' colonies and such."
"Very well. Sango, if you'll address the General and inform him...?" I raise my eyebrows mockingly at her, and she gives me a grateful glance as she nods and quickly exits the room, the large lummox staring after her with the look of an abandoned child. I speak lowly to him, smiling in what I knew was far too gentle for me. "What is your name?"
He looks startled, as if he had forgotten I was there, then replied shyly, "Manten..."
(Author's note: Manten is in no ways related to the Thunder Brothers. I just needed a name.)
"Well, Manten, tell you what. I'll save you a seat near me and Sango, alright?" I couldn't help it; the combination of his child-like innocence and Sango's squirming made it too impossible to resist.
He brightened immediately, and I felt a pang of regret at using him just for my own entertainment, but it could not be undone now. He nodded rather a lot, much more than necessary, then fumbled off to help unload the truck.
I grinned and shook my head slightly, then felt a slight pressure on my bottom. Feeling a sudden tic develop in my eyebrow, I punched the man behind me without so much as glancing at him.
"...Ahh, Kagome-chan, you're irresistible when you are angry!" the black- haired man all but swooned. He looked like he'd gotten up in a hurry; his hair wasn't tied at the nape of his neck like usual.
I raise a delicate eyebrow at him. "Miroku, why don't you go harass someone who wants your attention?" The words are scathing, but there is a lilt behind them that belies the initial rudeness. Miroku is another friend, and even when I'm angry I can't help but like him as such.
He smiles adoringly at me, but even I know that he doesn't see me beyond friendship. His heart lies with Sango, although she's heavily annoyed by his wandering hands and wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole. "Kagome- chan!" he whines, "You're setting up my beloved with that food-truck- driver!"
"I do not think your 'beloved' is in danger of falling under his charm. Or yours, either, for that matter," I jab at his ribs, a smile quirking the side of my mouth as he clutches at his "wound."
"How can you treat me so? When one of such beauty can so openly insult me, my life is forfeit!" He slaps his palm to his heart, and sniffs fakely. He is rather melodramatic.
"You buy the rope; I'll tie the noose for you!" I say lightly, walking towards the stair that leads to the cafeteria, my pace slowed to a stroll so he can walk with me comfortably.
He throws his head back and laughs, and it strikes me how very handsome he is. He is more of a brother to me than a lover, however, so it is easy for me to simply accept his beauty and not be bothered by it. Sango seems to not want anything to do with him, and this only aids him in the fact that she is intrigued by his looks and charisma all the more. His laughter turns into a yawn as he reaches his hands behind his head to secure his hair there with a ponytail.
"Tired, Miroku? I hope you haven't been up all night gambling again."
"Why would I ever do such a thing? I am far too moral a being--"
"How much did you lose?" I ask with a sigh and a shake of my head.
He lowers his head in the manner of a chastised dog, a modest grin playing about his lips. "About eight hundred."
I chuckle lowly, my eyelids fluttering shut for a moment as my ribcage shakes with silent laughter. "You have got to be the stupidest man alive," I admonish casually as my laughter abates.
He winks taps the end of my nose. "Only when I'm in love!" he croons, then disappears into the crowds with a grin.
Sango appears suddenly on the other side of me, and I realize that she had been waiting for Miroku to leave before coming to my side. She wrinkles her nose in the direction of his departure, her lips pressed in a thin line of harsh disapproval with my choice of acquaintances. "Honestly, 'Gome, how can you stand that man?" She looks almost comical, the way she pouts.
I mumble with my eyes pointed upwards in an innocent fashion, "At least I only stand him! I'm sure you'd like to lay him."
She gapes after me as I stride ahead of her, then howls in mock fury as she plants a playful punch to my shoulder. "ME? Lie with that horrible excuse for a human being?"
"Aw, Sango-chan, you're so cute when you're denying your own feelings!"
I see a glint of predatory-like mischief in her eyes, and take this as my cue to run. She chases me throughout the cafeteria, and people that we stumble into can only laugh at our behavior.
"I am perturbed by this delay in food, Kagome. The very fact that the food supply was stopped by Youkai administrative officers is enough to make the hair at the nape of my neck stand on end."
The tall, lithely built youth paused as he lit a cigar, then puffed on it contentedly as well as thoughtfully. I watch him pace a few steps behind his desk, aware of his hidden vulnerability. I lean back in my chair and watch him thoughtfully, my face expressionless. I can tell that this makes him uncomfortable.
He leans over his desk, his hands spread slightly farther than shoulder width and his elegant fingers sprawled like mangled corpses after the heat of battle. "I know you tire of these useless excursions to the topside, 'Gome," the familiar nickname did not escape my attention, and I arched a brow at his sudden attempt at closeness, "But this is a delicate mission, and one that any other spy would fumble. The scouts I've sent out are half dead already, and whoever is left has sent information that the sudden awareness of our army is being taken into consideration by the highest Youkai there are.
"I don't doubt your ability, of course, but I would understand completely if you feel the need to take any assistants along... sister-chan," he looked up at me to see what effect the close familial title would have. He was left disappointed.
"General Souta, I am fairly confident in my abilities, and require none other than the contacts I shall be with topside," I said smoothly, although inside, I was wailing.
Souta, you used to be so innocent, so beautiful in your naivete. How your smile lit the room.
When he was drafted, I did not see him for many, many years. When he was returned to me, he was a grim young man who had killed many. Even now, few dared to fight him. He was strong, battle-hardened, and completely and utterly merciless.
He did not wish for any of his superiors to know of our relation, and thus completely avoided me for a good two years. When he was made into a General of this base, however, I think he wanted a bit more of a connection between us. He would never receive it, however. I have no wish to become a sister to this... thing... anymore. I had barely been able to contain my happiness when I was first reunited with him, but his blunt coldness and his efficient killing had all but deadened him to me. Even Sango, assassin that she was, felt remorse over the lives she had taken.
Souta was a wonderful strategist, among the best of the Generals despite his age. But he was also a monster.
He looks mournful for a split second, and I wonder if my aloofness pains him. It is only what he deserves, I feel, but I know this to only be my sense of revenge talking. I wish him to feel the pain he inflicted upon me when he professed his un-love towards me.
He slowly walks around his desk, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of a Souta I had long since forgotten... one that had cried over the death of a butterfly, caught in the web of a spider. Unshed tears dance along his eyelashes, and anything of revenge in me abates to a shallow flow and ebb.
He holds his hands palm-up to me, a sign of his helplessness and his need for forgiveness. "Sister," he choked out. "I have missed you so. I am sorry for the way I treated you earlier; could you not forgive me? Could we not return to the way we were?"
Inwardly, I sigh. I want to give in to him, but I know it cannot be. He cannot change back to the boy he had been. "General, we have had this conversation many times. Not only is it impossible, but I feel that any sort of relationship between us would not benefit us in any way." I stand, and look down on him, and I can't recognize him as the person from my warm, happy memories. His face is frozen, his lips perpetually unable to stretch into a smile.
A single tear flows from his eye; a concession to the fact that he'll never be what he once was? A regret that he couldn't change the course of time? A wish, for another chance, perhaps? I shall never know.
Unable to stifle the sisterly feelings that rise up in me, I allow my expression to thaw and my eyes take on a warmth, not for him, but for the memories of what he once was. I cup my hand to his cheek, and I see a spark of hopefulness in his eyes, will I forgive him?
When he sees my apologetic expression, his face falls.
I feel the warmth of his cheek slide out from under my palm as his knees buckle underneath him and he slides into a sitting position, leaning on his desk. Tears rush forth, the tears of a million years being pent up, the tears of the damned, the tears of the not forgiven.
As I exit his office quietly, I hear stifled sobs, and I am just barely able to make out the words.
"Mama... mama..." he calls to our dead mother over and over, and I freeze just a few feet down the hall. I want so badly to return to him, to comfort him.
I steel myself against the need. It cannot be.
I whisper to the dimly lit concrete hallways, as an uncanny breeze picks up. I know it to be from the direction of the ruins, where the cement that was covering the city had fallen through.
"Oh, Souta... why did it have to be this way?" My words are carried along a timeless breeze, swept away to the forces of the Nevernever. As Souta's agonized cries subside into moist sobs, I force my legs to carry me back to my room, my bare feet slapping along the pavement.
I am immune to the cold kiss of the cement beneath my feet.
A/N! Woah. Am I just... just... morbid or what? Poor Souta... Poor, poor Souta! I want to cuddle him so much! ANYhoo! Happy reading!
Falls On Me
Chapter One: Whispers of Innocence
I slowly awaken to an empty room, the same room I've had for the past three years, when I came here at the age of fifteen. It holds only a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand with a lamp. The closet at the back of the room is largely ignored. It houses a secret passageway in the case of an emergency, but I've little cause to believe any such emergency will happen upon here.
The Rebel army houses itself underground. Literally. Office cubicles line the sewers, bedrooms inhabit the catacombs of buried and forgotten cities. After the Youkai takeover, a good deal of human settlement was demolished, cemented over, and rebuilt for themselves.
Not one to rise late, I swing my feet off the bed, the comfortable and well- worn woolen blanket tangled about my legs. I smooth my bangs out of my face out of habit; the rest of my hair is up in a high ponytail. My legs squeal as I push myself into movement, and I accommodate them by grabbing a pull- up bar near my bed and stretching extensively. Relaxed, I release my grip on the bar and start towards my dresser.
The dresser has a mirror, although it has a long crack going down the middle of it. Once upon a time there was a great many pictures adorning its surface, memories of my other life. Now, a single, tiny photograph in a frame too large for it sits resentfully at the very edge of sleek wood. It's on the verge of falling off, and before I can get a good look at it, I shove it facedown.
It is my family. I am there, in the picture, as well. A child of four, untainted by either the government or puberty. My mother is a beautiful, modestly smiling woman, her eyes warm despite how tired she obviously is from taking care of my infant brother Souta, four years younger than I. My father is a goofy-looking man in glasses, not handsome but possessing some quality that draws people to him. I think it's in his smile, his gentle, humorous grin.
Last of all is Souta, in my mother's arms, an infant who paused in his squalling to look with wide-eyed interest at the camera. His eyebrows are drawn together and his lower lip protrudes in the tell-tale signs of another round of screaming.
Ahh, Souta. You had been so innocent.
Shaking myself gently from the memories before I got too deep to pull myself out, I raise my gaze to the mirror itself. Staring back at me is a younger version of my mother. Except less vibrant. I have icy blue eyes as opposed to her warm brown ones. My face isn't full and rosy-cheeked. My cheekbones are high and sharply in contrast with my starving face, my hollowed eyes and cheeks.
I haven't eaten in a long time, and even my many muscles are starting to weaken. We can only eat when food can be smuggled in, and I've heard that a shipment was coming in today.
Invigorated by this hope, I quickly pull on faded jeans and a baggy T- shirt, putting my dagger at my hip more as a habit than a precaution. I stay barefoot; shoes are hard to come by, and to wear out the ones I have on trips within our own base seems idiotic.
I shoulder open the door while I pull on my shirt. As I start my ascent up the steep stairs to the commonrooms, I forget to look down at where I'm going. I trip. I hear a squeal.
Catching myself on a stair a few steps above myself, I growl lowly in irritation and kick the foolhardy rat that felt it could rest on the stairs. Its nearly dead already from the weight I put on it; its ribcage is completely squashed and its limbs struggle weakly to run away from the pain. The rat continues to squeal in agony, and I feel the shifting tides of pity inside me.
After killing the thing via chopping its head off with my dagger, I toe it off the stairs and continue upwards.
"Kagome-chan!" yelled a girly yet strong voice.
Not even bothering to suppress a smile, I turn to face one of the few people I've known since childhood. Sango.
"Sango-chan!" I exclaim with equal delight. "Back from your assassination already?"
"Oh, yeah, it was easy-peasy," Sango waved it away a bit smugly, then started in on the details of her mission.
Sango and I had come from the same town as children. She had always been athletic, and when the drafts arrived she was automatically chosen as an assassin. My job came upon me because of my litheness and grace, as well as my ability to blend in. After being separated for nearly five years for training, we found each other again at the peak of the war. Luckily, we had been stationed in the same regiment, our missions closely linked.
Although we hadn't seen each other in a while and had been shocked to find how much we had changed, we immediately bonded as only those that knew each other when younger could. She was assigned to kill a powerful Youkai named Tenoru, and I was to provide the means for her to do so.
As children, we hadn't really been the best of friends. She had her own friends and I had mine, but because we lived near each other, all of us banded together during playtime. After meeting up again during the war, we were all but inseparable.
Our superiors, either recognizing our unwillingness to leave the other or sensing that we worked rather well together, kept us in the same regiment and often paired us with each other.
She is among the best in her trade, as I am in mine. She has earned her own handful of nicknames, but since assassins work best when their face is not seen, some of these cannot be properly attributed to her. Among the Rebels, some of us like to teasingly call her the Crimson Widow, after an old fable of a war-widow gone homicidal.
We crest the stairs and slowly I realize that she's stopped talking, but is looking ahead, her eyes dancing with excitement. I follow her along on her line of vision until I see it, and my heart jumps. In unison, we both squeal, then rush side-by-side to the food truck.
Two burly looking men and a sickly thin man step from the cabin of the truck, then grin leisurely at us in a way that only truly stupid men can. One of the burly men tips his baseball cap at us, his smile like that of a large puppy.
"Sorry, ma'am. Ma'am," he tipped his hat to the both of us, and I notice that we are the only ones here. "We'se a bit later 'n usual, on account o' we got ourselves held up by them Youkai 'thorities. Hope ya'll haven't been too hungry."
I glare somewhat coldly at the well-meaning man, and Sango hurriedly speaks to cover up for my rudeness. "We've been quite alright, don't worry about us." She offers the three men a smile.
I roll my eyes at the niceties and start in on the food. A lot of it is canned, and whatever bread there is looks half-moldy. The rice, however, is stored well and looks like it'll keep, and I nod approvingly at the men, who relax.
The sickly thin man takes his straw hat from his head and bows clumsily to us. "Welp, then, we'll just git them there foods an' stuff up to the storage."
"You do that. I'll report to the General of your arrival, and see to it that you three have some ample rooms to recuperate in for your stay here. How long are you staying?" my manner is brusque, my words clipped.
The large puppy of a man that had tipped his hat earlier smiled at me and Sango... particularly at her, I noticed. She did too, for she started to look uncomfortable at his childish worship. "We'se only gonna stay about 'nother week or so... we'se gots to get them food to the otha' colonies and such."
"Very well. Sango, if you'll address the General and inform him...?" I raise my eyebrows mockingly at her, and she gives me a grateful glance as she nods and quickly exits the room, the large lummox staring after her with the look of an abandoned child. I speak lowly to him, smiling in what I knew was far too gentle for me. "What is your name?"
He looks startled, as if he had forgotten I was there, then replied shyly, "Manten..."
(Author's note: Manten is in no ways related to the Thunder Brothers. I just needed a name.)
"Well, Manten, tell you what. I'll save you a seat near me and Sango, alright?" I couldn't help it; the combination of his child-like innocence and Sango's squirming made it too impossible to resist.
He brightened immediately, and I felt a pang of regret at using him just for my own entertainment, but it could not be undone now. He nodded rather a lot, much more than necessary, then fumbled off to help unload the truck.
I grinned and shook my head slightly, then felt a slight pressure on my bottom. Feeling a sudden tic develop in my eyebrow, I punched the man behind me without so much as glancing at him.
"...Ahh, Kagome-chan, you're irresistible when you are angry!" the black- haired man all but swooned. He looked like he'd gotten up in a hurry; his hair wasn't tied at the nape of his neck like usual.
I raise a delicate eyebrow at him. "Miroku, why don't you go harass someone who wants your attention?" The words are scathing, but there is a lilt behind them that belies the initial rudeness. Miroku is another friend, and even when I'm angry I can't help but like him as such.
He smiles adoringly at me, but even I know that he doesn't see me beyond friendship. His heart lies with Sango, although she's heavily annoyed by his wandering hands and wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole. "Kagome- chan!" he whines, "You're setting up my beloved with that food-truck- driver!"
"I do not think your 'beloved' is in danger of falling under his charm. Or yours, either, for that matter," I jab at his ribs, a smile quirking the side of my mouth as he clutches at his "wound."
"How can you treat me so? When one of such beauty can so openly insult me, my life is forfeit!" He slaps his palm to his heart, and sniffs fakely. He is rather melodramatic.
"You buy the rope; I'll tie the noose for you!" I say lightly, walking towards the stair that leads to the cafeteria, my pace slowed to a stroll so he can walk with me comfortably.
He throws his head back and laughs, and it strikes me how very handsome he is. He is more of a brother to me than a lover, however, so it is easy for me to simply accept his beauty and not be bothered by it. Sango seems to not want anything to do with him, and this only aids him in the fact that she is intrigued by his looks and charisma all the more. His laughter turns into a yawn as he reaches his hands behind his head to secure his hair there with a ponytail.
"Tired, Miroku? I hope you haven't been up all night gambling again."
"Why would I ever do such a thing? I am far too moral a being--"
"How much did you lose?" I ask with a sigh and a shake of my head.
He lowers his head in the manner of a chastised dog, a modest grin playing about his lips. "About eight hundred."
I chuckle lowly, my eyelids fluttering shut for a moment as my ribcage shakes with silent laughter. "You have got to be the stupidest man alive," I admonish casually as my laughter abates.
He winks taps the end of my nose. "Only when I'm in love!" he croons, then disappears into the crowds with a grin.
Sango appears suddenly on the other side of me, and I realize that she had been waiting for Miroku to leave before coming to my side. She wrinkles her nose in the direction of his departure, her lips pressed in a thin line of harsh disapproval with my choice of acquaintances. "Honestly, 'Gome, how can you stand that man?" She looks almost comical, the way she pouts.
I mumble with my eyes pointed upwards in an innocent fashion, "At least I only stand him! I'm sure you'd like to lay him."
She gapes after me as I stride ahead of her, then howls in mock fury as she plants a playful punch to my shoulder. "ME? Lie with that horrible excuse for a human being?"
"Aw, Sango-chan, you're so cute when you're denying your own feelings!"
I see a glint of predatory-like mischief in her eyes, and take this as my cue to run. She chases me throughout the cafeteria, and people that we stumble into can only laugh at our behavior.
"I am perturbed by this delay in food, Kagome. The very fact that the food supply was stopped by Youkai administrative officers is enough to make the hair at the nape of my neck stand on end."
The tall, lithely built youth paused as he lit a cigar, then puffed on it contentedly as well as thoughtfully. I watch him pace a few steps behind his desk, aware of his hidden vulnerability. I lean back in my chair and watch him thoughtfully, my face expressionless. I can tell that this makes him uncomfortable.
He leans over his desk, his hands spread slightly farther than shoulder width and his elegant fingers sprawled like mangled corpses after the heat of battle. "I know you tire of these useless excursions to the topside, 'Gome," the familiar nickname did not escape my attention, and I arched a brow at his sudden attempt at closeness, "But this is a delicate mission, and one that any other spy would fumble. The scouts I've sent out are half dead already, and whoever is left has sent information that the sudden awareness of our army is being taken into consideration by the highest Youkai there are.
"I don't doubt your ability, of course, but I would understand completely if you feel the need to take any assistants along... sister-chan," he looked up at me to see what effect the close familial title would have. He was left disappointed.
"General Souta, I am fairly confident in my abilities, and require none other than the contacts I shall be with topside," I said smoothly, although inside, I was wailing.
Souta, you used to be so innocent, so beautiful in your naivete. How your smile lit the room.
When he was drafted, I did not see him for many, many years. When he was returned to me, he was a grim young man who had killed many. Even now, few dared to fight him. He was strong, battle-hardened, and completely and utterly merciless.
He did not wish for any of his superiors to know of our relation, and thus completely avoided me for a good two years. When he was made into a General of this base, however, I think he wanted a bit more of a connection between us. He would never receive it, however. I have no wish to become a sister to this... thing... anymore. I had barely been able to contain my happiness when I was first reunited with him, but his blunt coldness and his efficient killing had all but deadened him to me. Even Sango, assassin that she was, felt remorse over the lives she had taken.
Souta was a wonderful strategist, among the best of the Generals despite his age. But he was also a monster.
He looks mournful for a split second, and I wonder if my aloofness pains him. It is only what he deserves, I feel, but I know this to only be my sense of revenge talking. I wish him to feel the pain he inflicted upon me when he professed his un-love towards me.
He slowly walks around his desk, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of a Souta I had long since forgotten... one that had cried over the death of a butterfly, caught in the web of a spider. Unshed tears dance along his eyelashes, and anything of revenge in me abates to a shallow flow and ebb.
He holds his hands palm-up to me, a sign of his helplessness and his need for forgiveness. "Sister," he choked out. "I have missed you so. I am sorry for the way I treated you earlier; could you not forgive me? Could we not return to the way we were?"
Inwardly, I sigh. I want to give in to him, but I know it cannot be. He cannot change back to the boy he had been. "General, we have had this conversation many times. Not only is it impossible, but I feel that any sort of relationship between us would not benefit us in any way." I stand, and look down on him, and I can't recognize him as the person from my warm, happy memories. His face is frozen, his lips perpetually unable to stretch into a smile.
A single tear flows from his eye; a concession to the fact that he'll never be what he once was? A regret that he couldn't change the course of time? A wish, for another chance, perhaps? I shall never know.
Unable to stifle the sisterly feelings that rise up in me, I allow my expression to thaw and my eyes take on a warmth, not for him, but for the memories of what he once was. I cup my hand to his cheek, and I see a spark of hopefulness in his eyes, will I forgive him?
When he sees my apologetic expression, his face falls.
I feel the warmth of his cheek slide out from under my palm as his knees buckle underneath him and he slides into a sitting position, leaning on his desk. Tears rush forth, the tears of a million years being pent up, the tears of the damned, the tears of the not forgiven.
As I exit his office quietly, I hear stifled sobs, and I am just barely able to make out the words.
"Mama... mama..." he calls to our dead mother over and over, and I freeze just a few feet down the hall. I want so badly to return to him, to comfort him.
I steel myself against the need. It cannot be.
I whisper to the dimly lit concrete hallways, as an uncanny breeze picks up. I know it to be from the direction of the ruins, where the cement that was covering the city had fallen through.
"Oh, Souta... why did it have to be this way?" My words are carried along a timeless breeze, swept away to the forces of the Nevernever. As Souta's agonized cries subside into moist sobs, I force my legs to carry me back to my room, my bare feet slapping along the pavement.
I am immune to the cold kiss of the cement beneath my feet.
A/N! Woah. Am I just... just... morbid or what? Poor Souta... Poor, poor Souta! I want to cuddle him so much! ANYhoo! Happy reading!