Shadows, Light, and Blue

Written By: RinoaDestiny (aka Ann Koo)

Disclaimer: Clover is a series by CLAMP. This is only my homage to it.

The sound of lapping waves, combined with the silent expanse of sky overhead hit the senses like a stone thrown into water, rippling out with bewilderment because of the jarring absence and addition of noise. Not because of the color, though. No, not that – a dark blue that shimmered endlessly and translucently into the depths, while above his head the pale and pastel hue shifted and swirled with the clouds. Blue – robin's egg shade and indigo. Blue, like a certain person's name, given because it was his most favorite color growing up. It was the color of dignity, courage, honor, and authority. He was happy, if a Clover could ever call himself exuberant, when he discovered that it was one of the main hues of the Secret Colors Battalion. Of course, just by looking at his stoic visage, no one would have guessed it.

It wasn't until someone precious entered his life one rainy day, bringing with him the long-lost childlike innocence and love that the Lieutenant Colonel thought absent from his existence that things began to change. That was when living the life of a Two-Leaf turned from solo to duo. That was when bright grey eyes full of shyness looked upon him, stirring in his heart emotions that he thought he had lost. And in gaining those feelings, living became important to him in another way.

Gingetsu raised his head.

As if awaiting his acknowledgment, silver sprays of seawater, illuminated by light from above, crested onto the sandy shore. Platinum strands of hair fell shining into Gingetsu's eyes, blocking his vision. Nonplussed, he raised a slender hand to brush aside the damp bangs, only to start in surprise. Where was his visor? He glanced straight ahead, looked up, and then returned his perplexed gaze to the sand beneath him. "Where am I?" he asked himself from within, the question disconcerting him more than he would have liked to admit. Puzzled, he remained on his knees. The sensation of brine soaking into the thick cloth of his military uniform, along with the salty taste of grime on his lips caused a faint shiver to ripple the goose bumps on his skin. His hands were damp with ocean dew; now glittering like tiny diamonds carved from light unadulterated on elegant ivory fingers. Reflected in multiple mirrors were the two extremes of color, at once both somber and playful. Dark teal deepened in its intensity, bringing forth the blackness that symbolized death, while the lighter blue hinted at freedom on the open seas. Above, pale cerulean promised unfading immortality and happiness, which were impossible.

Five years – that was all the time they had.

"Ran," Gingetsu murmured, shutting his eyes against the beautiful color that reminded him of the boy in his care. Two years were already on the brink of extinction. Ran aged rapidly in those years, from a ten-year-old child to a breathtakingly ravishing teenager. It was such a short span of time, and the clock never stopped for either one of them. The thought of Ran's death date haunted the older man, for such things should not be. When the young boy first arrived at his house, he commented that the lights outside were never shining for him. Ironically enough, Ran became the lamp in Gingetsu's shadowed life; albeit when he died, that light would be snuffed out, never to be lit again. Gingetsu dreaded that day. "The lights will not be shining for me, either, when you are gone." It was the hard, cold, and cruel fact of being a Clover. It was another element of his existence that should not be.

But it was.

Although he was a Two-Leaf, the Lieutenant Colonel found himself powerless to stop his life and that of the Three-Leaf from spiraling down an inexorable path of sadness, longing, and heartbreak. He had to watch when Suu, the Four-Leaf, committed suicide in Fairy Park due to her misery at being shielded away from love and understanding; however, she died happy. Both Ran and he sensed Oruha's impending doom, keeping silent on the matter because death scared them in its own way. Looking back, Gingetsu understood why Kazuhiko Fay Ryuu yearned to love despite all the losses he had suffered. Silently, Gingetsu now walked the same path without any regrets. He would never regret taking Ran beneath his protection, shielding him from danger and chance misery. Never would he look back and wish that he hadn't asked the Council to implant an explosive in his head in exchange for sheltering the Three-Leaf Clover. Not even the threat of being brutally murdered by Ran's deranged brother, A, would ever reverse his decision.

In fact, when Ran died, he would welcome the thought.

His life would be empty without Ran.

In the comfortable confines of his immaculate home, Gingetsu never gave voice to the thoughts that disturbed him. Here, in this strange landscape of water, sky, and sand, the melancholy of the times ahead sank his heart. As if responding to his sudden shift in mood, rain drizzled down, baptizing him in yet another sprinkle of moisture. The drops increased in tempo, thudding down until the sand beneath his knees softened and the water around him roared. For the second time, the silver-haired man opened his eyes. This time, Gingetsu started not at the unfamiliar surroundings but by the changes enacted upon it.

Howling wind tore through icy sheets of rain and seawater, battering Gingetsu until he staggered. Shivering, he watched as the roiling waves at his feet darkened and crested, each threatening to sweep him over to his death. The sky was void of light, lacking even a single break in the clouds that swirled ominously overhead. Indeed, in some eerie way, nothing was shining for him anymore.

His one and only ray of hope was gone.

"RAN!" He couldn't even hear himself. It was not like him to raise his voice, military man or not. Desperate to avoid being knocked over into the gaping water below, Gingetsu scrambled to grip the rocks that had suddenly solidified out of nowhere. For Clovers, their foundations were never soft and comfortable, laden with benefits and joy; instead, they knew of the enslavement to daily surveillance, misery, and the awareness of their uniqueness. It was what, after all, ended their semblance of childhood.

Life was hard for Gingetsu.

It was even more so for the others: Oruha…Suu…Ran….

A breaker broke haphazardly, spilling over onto the rocks and dashing him into the churning waters below. Shock invaded as the lethal coldness wormed its way through his sodden and heavy limbs, knifing its merciless edge into his lungs. Gingetsu struggled, choking as he somehow managed to keep his head above the killing waves. That was when he saw a single fragile flower, caught in the storm's gust, skittering from left to right, up and down, and everywhere at once. The blossom was unmistakably blue, tinged with violet like that of an orchid.

It was faded and torn.

Ran was dead, his body ravaged by time – torn like the flower that bore his name. It was too late, and like before, Gingetsu found himself an onlooker to the tragedy of their lives. He lashed out as steel bars suddenly formed a cage around him, trapping and surrounding him so that there was no escape. But nothing could be done, and as the gilded cage sank beneath the furious surface and entered the calm deceptiveness of death, Gingetsu felt his soul fly free even as black imploded in his sight and blotted out all color, light, and sound.

"Ran…"

Silver hair tumbled down a sculpted marble face as Gingetsu awoke, his heart hammering in his chest. What was that? In all of the years of his life, the Two-Leaf Clover never knew what it meant to dream. Like as not, his first dream was akin to a nightmare and not the pleasant sojourn that others often described. Disturbed to find that he was trembling, the Lieutenant Colonel blindly turned to his left, seeking solace in the one person that he loved.

Ran…

Bluish-grey hair and supple white skin silvered by moonlight, the younger man blissfully slept, unaware of the torment running through his protector's mind. The sight of him was so beautiful that Gingetsu stretched out his hand to run his fingers through the soft strands that rolled down Ran's bared nape. Softness like that of down and silk caressed his callused fingers, and the older man closed his eyes in relief.

Ran was alive and well.

He rarely cried. So it was to his astonishment as the first tears fell, bright in the moonlit night. Several slipped down his arm, traced the fine bones in his wrist, and skirted the mark that told him daily who he was – the tattoo of the Two-Leaf Clover.

FIN