Disclaimer: Still don't own YYH, nope….
Scribbles: Made it! Yeah… But it's halved in the middle… the chapter would be too long if I didn't cut it in the middle… That would have bored people, I think… But the other half is next week :D
People to constantly thanks and pay homage to:
Starflower Sakura – yeah.. I guess you were an inspiration in that scene :p
Raining Petals – I agree that it was way confusing…xx It's because we have this Lit prof who insists we write conversations without really saying who's speaking, and it got really stuck into my system. And since I suck at it, it's become quite confusing. Grr… :
Clow Angel – yes, a faithful reviewer! . Oh, so you think Hiei understands Kurama better? nods hmm… I guess so. Since they've known each other for so long… good point!
Skittles the Sugar Fairy – wah, missed you!:p HiYu?giggles Confusing's good.. hmm… if I include this, I'd have to start researching ways of how they can be connected…:p
What2callmyself – I just realized that in one reply, I wrote 'What2callmysel'..:p oops. Yep, you're really hilarious! I need more people like you in my life…:D 2 months? It was that long? . gah… Oh no, you've noticed that I like frustrating people! Sssh… it's a secret!
Hm… topics other wouldn't really go into? Hmm… oh, and thanks for liking my writing… it's actually from a demented, schizophrenic mind. They say people who are mentally ill can write good stuff since there's too much in their brain, but it's often that they get breakdowns..:D
They also like bad endings. Oopss.. wasn't supposed to give a clue! Nah.. just kidding…
Here's the chapter, and in a week! :D (okay, I cheated by cutting it in the middle…):p
Really many thanks for your reviews!
Hope no one was skipped, here goes:
- "First Love", Utada Hikaru
Do you know of this funny joke that you've already heard some time before, only to hear it again a few years later, and you suddenly remember why it was so funny?
I have a lot in my past that I thought I've forgotten (or never happened), which keep popping up randomly, given a situation that was so similar to it, I'd get a feeling of déjà vu. Sometimes, the feeling would be coupled with amusement, other times, puzzlement. There would be some flashback from who-knows-where. They seem like memories not my own, that sometimes I feel like a voyeur peeking at someone else's experiences.
But if they weren't mine, how could I be seeing them?
And why is it that Hiei's own random flashes are parallel with mine, as if we were two, different people together?
Do I sound like I'm babbling?
Perhaps an example would clear things up.
We were both in a playful mood, Hiei's, milder, of course, but he was in his own amusingly sadistic-sarcastic mood, and we were sparring – so sue is if we consider this as "play" – somewhere remote, using as much cheat methods we knew. Maybe he was drawn into the game too much and that made him more talkative than usual. Sometime, he blurted out, "You're just at an advantage because you've grown much, much taller now."
To which, I replied without thinking, at that time, "Hah. I could beat you before, even when you were way taller than I and I had to look up to you in turn."
Baring a fang in his half-smile, he retorted, "In your dreams, you'd beat me. Whenever we competed before, you'd keep tripping over your extremely long hair."
That served to stop us both, when we realized what we were saying.
For one, Hiei had never been taller than I was in the years we'd known each other.
Two, my hair has never been any longer than it is now, and that it was short when we first met and grew along with our friendship.
So then, where did all these come from?
Frankly, if we all knew what or why we were doing things all the time, it'll be an extremely different world.
I am not new to the concept of reincarnation, so it would be silly for me to rule out the possibility of having had a past life with any I'm with right now. But…
Somehow thinking about past lives gives me the creeps. It's like this feeling that once I do know what happened in that 'before', things will change…
I hate this feeling the most.
Usually when I tried a peek at the tarot, I'd get a warm feeling. Whenever I told someone's fortune, it'd be easy, and feel nice, soothing, smooth. But attempting to gaze at my own past life always gave me a jarring sensation, and I'd get nothing. It's like someone doesn't want me to know, so that someone pushes away everytime I try to.
I guess it's true what they say about fortunetellers not being able to see their own fates. The only way for them to presage their futures and pasts is when it's intertwined with whomever their reading for the moment. If, somehow, a seer were involved greatly at an incident in that person's life, or an important person in that past life, they'd finally chance a glance at a scene or scenes of their own.
There are three people so far through whom I've vividly seen a lot of my own past life, and a little of my future –
Hiei, Yomi and Yuusuke.
I wish I could announce triumphantly how I'd figure in all of their lives, but…
It's funny, when you find out that each one of them is in each other's pasts and futures as well. That is why I can't get a clear interpretation of who I was in each of their lives. My roles have merged in the flashes I saw. Confusing, and frustrating.
But.. the only thing that I am sure of is that one of them corresponds to one of these in my past life –
The one who sought to claim me.
The one who let go.
The one I loved
I think anyone else would have wondered and craved to find out whom it was they loved in the past… I don't get the point. They'd end up loving the person today only because they know for a fact that in their past life, they were in love.
There it is. The world being different just because we know the reason why we do things.
So I let it be.
I think the real issue here is that knowing it's all about me has made me feel quite self-important. I don't feel awkward, nor shameful.
Ok, maybe I was at the start. But that was in our past life. Although history tends to repeat itself, a lot can change. In meeting others, they may have already altered their destinations and drawn new paths that don't converge with my own.
My outburst with Yuusuke…
I think It's a sign that it's gotten in my head a little bit. Maybe knowing a bit of our 'past' caused me to be upset. And my being pompous. Sometimes I can be so self-centered and egotistic, add to that Youko Kurama's great pride. Watch out, world.
Back to the topic.
My craving for Hiei's company and approval. I still think it's because of what I saw too.
And my staying with Yomi.
For these three things, there is one reason (or so I think): because I know that with each of them, I'm linked somehow. And for a really weird purpose I have yet to find out, I plan to uncover those connections.
Sometimes I become illogical and crave for reasons.
At another time, another place…
"Upon touching it, the door opened. It was marvelous! There were really tall structures, reaching for the sky. Some touched the clouds, and their windows shined under the sun. There were a lot of metal horses, some moving faster than the others. They were in different hues – blue, red, yellow, some green, white… I wanted to see more from my perch, so I moved forward. And then I was falling…"
"I'll be there to catch you!"
The nine-year old who looked far too old for his age, gave out a soft laugh with his sultry tones, "That's ridiculous! How could you, when you weren't there in my dream?"
His companion sat up from lying down on his lap, blue eyes wide, as if he could not believe what he heard, "What? Why was I not in your dream?"
Large, silver eyes twinkled in amusement, "It's not as if I can control my dreams… Why? Am I always in yours?"
"Yes, every time, each night."
A light pink slowly creeped on the ivory, porcelain-smooth skin. He was saved from replying by a voice, "Tristesse, Yvan, it's going to rain soon, come and wash up."
Tristesse stood up, dusted himself and stretched, complaining, "Ack. Mother called me by my full name again. She really makes me sound like I'm a girl…"
"Well, you could be one, since you look so much like a girl," teased Yvan.
Irritated, the other stomped away. Yvan ran after him, and tugged playfully at the long tresses of his buddy, "See. You have such a long hair, anyone would mistake you for a lady at first glance. And the next glance, and the next, until you straighten them out finally."
"Rub it more in my face."
Laughing, Yvan scooped Tristesse up and ran past their mother who held the door open, and made it just in time inside before heavy rain started to pour. After washing up, the two sat near the fire, snuggling up in one blanket. Lynd sat on her rocking chair, starting on a sweater she was knitting for her husband, Damian. Absentmindedly twisting the needle, she watched the two from the corner of her eye, and settled on Yvan, the taller of the two, first.
At nine, he had grown to be a fine, young man. He looked to be about 18, with his muscular, yet lean build, and his voice had already developed into a deep tenor. He was already as tall as their father, and acted more like a man, rather than a child. His hair was a dark chestnut color, with eyes as blue as the sky. Although very obedient, he had weird notions of nobility in his head that he practiced on his brother, Tristesse.
Smiling softly at the name, Lynd remembered the protests that would come out from the shorter one's mouth whenever called by the full name. "It makes me sound like I'm a girl!" would be his objection. Therefore, they had shortened the name to 'Tris', but sometimes, 'Tristesse' sounded more fitting, and would come out more naturally.
'A rightful name', she mused, for it meant, 'melancholy', in French. Born the same day as his brother, Yvan, and yet he looked more effeminate, softer. Although he looked quite mature, he would fall on the 'sixteen' category – looking like a woman in her sweet sixteenth year. He was generally an optimistic person, but his enchanting silver eyes, coupled with his soft expression always made him look like he was in deep thought. As if he knew something about the future more than others. He was a good few inches shorter than Yvan, and was as thin as a reed. He had muscles, but not as well-defined as his brother's. Two of the most captivating aspects of the boy was his voice – the sultry tone that told stories, and sang with feeling. Though he would actually only willingly sing and talk for Van; and then there was his rich, long black hair that, whenever shined on by some light, shimmered blue highlights. When he would do chores, he'd tie it loosely at the bottom part, but somehow Yvan would sneak up on him to let it loose.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Lynd frowned. With her plain face, brown hair and brown eyes, she looked nothing like her little ones. Her husband too. And it's hilarious that her two children didn't look a thing like each other, with those features, plus, the fact that Yvan was tan, and that Tristesse was pale. What a weird family we make… Family…
Suddenly, the door burst open and surprised, Lynd dropped her needles. Perhaps feeling quite noble (once again), Yvan immediately got up, placed himself in what he thought was harm's way, trying to protect his cough delicate cough brother.
"Wow, it's pouring outside!"
Lynd laughed and stood from her chair. Reaching for a towel, she approached her husband, "Damian, what took you so long? Supper is getting cold.."
"Oh, our old horse trotted too slowly… I think we need to find a replacement." Receiving the towel, he began to furiously rub his red hair.
Immediately, the two children pounced on their father. Well, it was only Tristesse jumping up to give his father a peck on the cheek, Yvan, feeling a bit manlier than the other, simply stood, and gave a toothy grin, "Welcome home, father."
After dinner, when the two young ones were fast asleep, Lynd and Damian lapsed into another one of their serious conversations. Old exchanges came up, "Do you think we should tell them of their true heritages already? I think.. they both know that they're from noble families. Even if we never gave a clue..."
Damian, being the less perceptive of the two, asked, "What do you mean? They're good at farm work. They know how to build, make clothes, and other un-noble work."
"I mean… Well… Yes, but I know that somehow, they just know it. And, it's hard to explain."
Lynd turned around and simply opted to think about those certain instances when she'd notice. It was the way those two carried themselves. Yvan and his notions of nobility was very similar to what his real father did. And Tristesse- always the proper one. Also, the two knew that they were not brothers even when neither Lynd nor Damian told them. It was as if, they just did. Whenever the two would go out to the market with their father (which was a few miles away from their home), they would meet with different people, and children their own age. Usually, when their playmates would ask , "Hey, where's your brother?", they'd object immediately and correct them, "We're not really brothers."
The couple hadn't told the two about their being adopted from different parents, but they already knew. It was terrible, the way the two ended up in their care…
"I give you everything, and yet, you can't even give me a SON!"
Megara cringed away from her drunk husband. She didn't even protest his words. They had two sons, but to him, they were not even human, just because they weren't healthy or bulky, like he was. The other had a weak heart, and the other, limp. They did have 3 other daughters, very beautiful, each one of them, but he would never look at them. He needed an heir. A strong one. Astaire prided himself of his strong army, and vast lands. He ruled over his people efficiently, thus, the prosperity. But he never had wealth in his own home.
In his family. For he had no well-built son.
If only his riches could cause them to evolve into gallant boys with bodies of that in romance novels, he would be the happiest man in the world. But this was taken away from him.
The main cause for his insecurity was that Sir Gwent, his main knight, had five – FIVE – strong sons! All of them big, able, WHOLE. Unlike his two 'sons' who were like weeds. All of Sir Gwent's wives had died giving birth to the really large babies. Astaire would often ramble, "Look at them. His five children could manage the whole kingdom by themselves! How lucky he is to have five, such strong offspring… His wives died giving birth to them! How lucky he is…"
And always, Megara would think, 'Then you would have preferred I died giving birth, just so you can have your capable son!'
But she would never answer back. Would never protest. She would wait until Astaire would fall asleep, and then softly cry the night away.
And then she once again got pregnant.
Everyday, she would go to the shrine to pray to the gods that it be a boy. She could feel her luck now. She knew she would have a boy. She asked as an addition, that the boy be a very strong one, muscular, lean, powerful. Someone his father would approve of. At the same time, Sir Gwent had impregnated another woman, a gypsy girl.
Since she was pregnant, Astaire was once again his gentle self, his hopes up for a son worthy of being an heir this time. He would sit by her legs and caress the enlarged womb, and say softly (as softly as a person like him could muster), "Our son will be strong. Strong like Gwent's sons. He will be very capable. And whole."
She would smile with him. Both of them dreamed the same for different reasons.
The night came. Megara felt that she was about to give birth and called for her trusted servant, Brenta. Feeling something wrong, she exclaimed, "No, this is not yet the right time for the baby to be strong enough, and big enough! I feel that he is not yet ready! He is not yet ready!"
From the other room, they could hear a scream. Through her pain, Megara managed to ask, "What is happening?"
"That gypsy girl, my lady, is also giving birth."
Getting an idea, she asked to be brought where the gypsy was. Slowly, they proceeded to the dungeon. Surprised, the midwife quickly composed herself and said, "My lady, you shouldn't be here- "
"No, I shall give birth beside her."
With that, she lay down beside the gypsy girl and clasped her hand. She knew that the gypsy would die giving birth. But it would be a healthy and large offspring. Megara looked the gypsy in the eye and said, "My son will be yours, and yours, mine. I will give birth to your child, and you, to mine."
The gypsy, understanding, nodded. Then she screamed from the pain the large baby in her caused. Her hips were too small for such a large load. Afterwards, when her eyes cleared from the haze, she said an incantation, a short prayer. She ended it with, "Our sons will be exchanged, their fates intertwined. They will be linked, will be together, in life or death. My son will be yours, and yours, mine."
Feeling a sudden onrush of great pain she'd never felt before, Megara blacked out.
When she awoke, she was in high spirits, knowing that her wish had finally come true. Glancing to her left, she saw the cold body of the gypsy she had given birth with. She called for Brenta, "Where is my son? Where is he?"
Brenta gave her a rather large bundle, exclaiming happily that it was indeed a boy. A beautiful boy.
When she saw the little baby before her, she didn't believe him. It was very tiny, and looked very delicate. She pushed him away, "No, this is not my son! This is not my son! Where is he?"
She caught sight of a baby beside her own child. It was of a tanned boy, very unlike her pale child. He looked big and strong. She tried to pull him away from the sickly boy beside him, but the two had tangled their hands together, and would not let go. The midwife protested, "Please, don't remove them from each other, they will start crying again."
"This one, this healthy baby is my son!"
The door opened and Astaire entered, excited, "Where is he? Where is my son?" Gwent followed in.
The midwife took the two babies and showed them to the lord of the land, "The one with the black hair is yours, my lord."
One look, and the happy expression turned to hate, "Once again, you give me a sickly child! You are a defective wife!" He was about to throw the baby to her, when he noticed the other one. Immediately, his eyes shone, "A healthy one…"
Gwent stepped forward and gave a toothy grin, "Ah, my son. I guess I'm blessed once again." He didn't even ask about the gypsy girl.
The decision was made quickly, and the deal, done. They were to exchange babies, for a price.
The two slept peacefully in their shared crib, hands, still held in each other's, as if they belonged to no one else. Megara, aware of the future her real son were to have if given over to Astaire, couldn't help but panic. She now hated her husband, who once again, loved her less for causing this situation to happen. There was only one way to cure everything of misery. The babies were to die.
Lynd, the midwife, had heard of the plan to burn down the nursery from the one paid to do it. Immediately, she rushed towards their nursery, looking at the two innocent faces, peaceful, since they were in each other's company. She knew what she had to do.
The nursery burned quietly, and efficiently. It was too late when everyone found out and tried to put out the fire. They found two charred bodies in the fire, unidentifiable because of the severe chafing and the blackening.
The king wept for having lost his only healthy son. He would go home rarely, and buried himself in work.
The queen's heart turned to ice.
Lynd and Damian escaped the town with the two babies in tow and built a house on the outskirts of a forest. There, they would start a new life.
Lynd marveled at the two children's relationship. It was really like they were one person in two different bodies, or as if they completed one another. Watching them everyday, she saw the connection clearly. It was made very evident by one incident in the past, though, when the two were seven years old.
Each of them had chores to do at home – Tristesse was in charge of feeding the chickens, milking the cows, weeding the garden, watering the growing plants, and other similar tasks. Yvan would help with the building, carrying really heavy stuff, and herding the sheep. The two had never been out of the house's proximity before.
One night, Damian had told Yvan that he would be going with him to the city to buy supplies. Excited, he was bubbly the whole night. He didn't pick the thought up that Tristesse were not to go with them. Knowing this for himself, the black-haired beauty was silent the whole night. Noticing this, the blue-eyed kid asked the other one what was wrong every five minutes. To which, Tristesse would reply, "It's nothing."
Finally giving up, Yvan begged, "Tell me a story then. A story with dragons, a gallant knight, and the person important to him that he would save from the dragon!"
Oddly, Tristesse didn't take the bait. Usually, he loved telling stories, but tonight, he just wasn't in the mood.
Bored, Yvan opted to sleep.
The next morning, Yvan had been so excited that he could barely eat breakfast. Finally, Damian called for him to go out, and that the wagon was already prepared. Standing up and taking his coat, he ran to the door and called out, "Come on, Tris! What are you waiting for? Get dressed already!"
Surprised, Tristesse dropped the toast he was eating, and then looked away, a sad look crossing his face."
"Tris?"
Lynd patted Tristesse on the shoulder, then approached Yvan and gave him a peck on the cheek, "Tristesse is supposed to stay here with me."
He looked like he was about to protest, but restricted by his idea of how a man should act, he pretended that he wasn't affected at all. He turned abruptly, then ran out the door, to his father.
Lynd was worried. She couldn't make Tristesse do anything at all today. He merely lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Sighing softly, she just sat on her chair, and proceeded to knit. Abruptly, Tris sat up and exclaimed, "Van is lost!"
The former midwife placed her knitting down, "What are you talking about? He's with your father!"
"No, no! He tried to make his way back to me. And then he got lost! He can't find me! He's lost!" He ran out of the house and continued on the path. Lynd followed, her long legs allowing her to catch up quickly. From the distance, they could see Damian on the horse, with a worried look on his face.
"Damian, where is Yvan?"
Jumping off, he replied, "He was just behind me. And then when I looked back, he was gone!"
Tristesse was near to tears right now. Although scared herself, Lynd fought to keep her composure. She told Damian, "Go back to town, ask if they've seen him around."
After he left, she turned to her other son, "Tristesse, do you know where he is?"
"He is lost! And he has hurt his foot… Mother, he can't find me!"
She brought him to the part in the road where the paths forked and told him, "I want you to shout his name, so he'll be able to find you. I need you to not cry, and be strong for the both of you. Your father will try to look for him. He'll come back, understand?"
Blinking back tears, he replied, "Yes. I will call him so he'll come back to me."
Although everything was strange, Lynd didn't find this at all surprising.
It was well after dark that Damian came back, still with no son in tow. Tristesse's voice had already become quite raspy from shouting out. Slowly, he collapsed on the ground. He had not really eaten anything the whole day. Damian was going to scoop him up to bring him inside, but Lynd stopped him. Tristesse was still calling out softly, "That's it, come closer. I'm here, waiting for you. You can do it. I'm here, waiting. Come back to me…"
After a few minutes, a rustle in the bushes happened. Perking up immediately, the silver-eyed boy stood, and ran towards where the sound came from, "Van!"
A very bruised, full of scratches boy fell from the foliage. With a strength the two old ones didn't know he had, Tristesse caught him without effort. The boy who tried so much to be a man was crying softly, "I couldn't find you… I was lost. And I hurt my foot. I tried to get back to you, Tris. I really did. But it was painful, and I really couldn't find you anywhere."
Lynd saw that Damian was about to scold Yvan for running off, so she stopped him. She told him to put the horse back in the stall. They walked back together for a while, and then Lynd said that she would stay and wait for them. She approached slowly, so that they wouldn't know she was there. Crouching low in the shadows, she watched and listened to their conversation. Yvan was now lying down on Tristesse's lap.
"- I was just here. I kept calling your name."
"I heard. I tried to make my way back."
"You're here now…"
Tristesse reached up behind him and loosened his hair from his tie. Picking a bundle of his hair, he brushed it over Yvan's tear-streaked face, wiping away most of the liquid. Lynd was startled. Right now, it was as if these two beings were adults, like two people in love. If only they could fathom, and had it in their minds what they were doing, they'd have known that the act was simply erotic.
Feeling like a voyeur somehow, watching a very private moment, Lynd crept away slowly.
They never tried once to separate them again after this incident.
Back to the present…
Kurama awoke to someone jumping on his bed. He slowly took a peek with one eye, then opened the other too when he saw that it was Shura. The little kid gave him a huge smile when he noticed that the redhead was awake, "Kurama! Papa called for you! He says it's dinner time!"
Suddenly sitting up, and reaching out, the half-youko locked Shura in his arms, then dragged him down to lie on the soft bed with him. The little horned youkai protested, "Ack, don't do that! You'll turn me into a human!" But he actually liked the sensation in secret. Kurama was warm, and smelled good… And Yomi never hugged him before.
After a while, he thought that the redhead had fallen asleep again, so he poked in the ribs. Kurama protested, "Ack, Shura, that wasn't so nice of you."
"Hehe.. I thought you were sleeping again. I don't want your drool on my head, and I don't think you should be late in meeting father."
Tightening his hold on the young youkai, the half-human merely replied, "hmhm…"
The silence in the room was starting to get to Shura. He asked, seemingly out of the blue, but actually was really bothered by it, "Ne, Kurama…"
Another sleepy, "Hm?"
"You and my Father…" He fidgeted a little. "Are you together? Are you planning to bind?"
Slowly, green eyes were revealed through long lashes, and the arms released him. Kurama slid from the bed, then languidly stretched his limbs. Taking a brush from the table, he began to fix his hair. Shura, not about to be put off, half-shouted, "You're avoiding my question!"
"What do you want to hear?"
Flustered, the little boy couldn't answer. Kurama proceeded out the door, "Come on, we'll be late for dinner."
wah.. sleepy, again.
The second part of the chapter, next Saturday!
Preview of Chapter 9, Hybrid:
Something lay buried in the ground. Under grass. Under the June rain.
A small, forgotten thing, nothing that the world would miss.
But both of them knew that there are things that can be forgotten. And things that cannot – that sit on dusty shelves like stuffed birds with baleful, sideways-staring eyes.
"You cannot delay this any further. Either you give a yes or a no."
"But I don't want to make a choice yet. I'm not yet ready to make a choice."
Ah, please review!