Home For The Holidays
The hospital would be closing soon. Aya didn't want to leave. He didn't care about himself, but it seemed unfair to him that his sister should have to be alone on Christmas and this night its eve. Two items, gifts from him, rested in her hand an on her wrist. The rose which Aya had grown and selected personally flourished in a perfect crimson under her fair hand. The gold bracelet wasn't much in quality or value, but it glinted with a priceless elegance when set in harmony with her slender wrist. Her soft features always gave her an angelic appearance, but on a night like this it captivated her brother ten fold. Aya took her free hand in both of his, brought it slowly to his lips, and kissed it. Her hand felt warm to his lips. It was this warmth that reassured him that she was indeed alive and would one day awaken. He returned his sister's hand and let his attention settle on the white flakes swirling outside the window. The floor he was on gave him a perfect view of the glittering city, illuminated twice over by holiday decorations. The next time his sister's eyes would befall a scene like this was something he could only guess. Aya's own eyes softened to sadness and once again landed on the young girl. Tears snuck up on his lashes. Someone so sweet and innocent reduced to this. He leaned over and softly kissed her cheek before forcing himself up to take his leave.
"Merry Christmas, Aya chan," the words clung to the little audibility they were allowed as the phrase passed his lips and he shut the door behind him.
He remained outside the door for several moments. The lingering tears suddenly threatened to fall and he quickly closed his eyes. His sister. His parents. All of them snatched away by one man. The name echoed in his mind like a taunt. Takatori. Only that man's life was suitable payment for the three Aya had lost. So help him, that man would fall to his blade.
The tears evaporated in the grip of a refreshed rage as Aya opened his eyes. The amethyst orbs burned their way down the hall, to the elevator, and out the main entrance. But once outside, the cold air and soft snow placated his white hot fury. Sadness once again took center stage.
The thought of returning home made him shiver. The idea of his room, small and empty, seemed as cold as the wind that stroked his cheek with bitter fingers. And so, he wandered aimlessly; his boots crunching in the old snow, his trench coat flapping softly at the wind's summon. The sun had only just begun its ritualistic descent, so he had time before the wrath of the darkness and cold befell him. Others were also taking advantage of this. Procrastinators and forgetful husbands were in good number, weaving all throughout the streets and shops. Aya passed them casually, trying not to become entangled in the thoughts of the families they would be going home to. Sadly, his attempts proved futile. His mind was a steel trap during missions, but his feelings for his sister were like the wound of Lancelot's that never healed. Each person hit the emotional sore spot and he was forced to withdraw and continue on almost unseeing. Once in a while, an unknowing stranger would greet him to which he nodded back numbly. The park came into view and the sight of aloof trees and no people drew him like a moth to the flame. He chose a bench deep within the borders of this merciful haven and sat down with a tired sigh. Either he had been walking longer than he thought, or the sun was anxious to reach its home under the horizon. The orb had dimmed to a smolder and had just touched the ground, leaving a cooling night sky furthest from its retreat. The wind picked up and drew in the clouds. Gorgeous colors like purple and soft pink reflected on the fluffy wisps. The beauty reached even his iced over feelings and once that leaked through the crack, the flood began.
His mind was gripped with memories of himself and his sister. A crash course of everything from their childhood, to growing up, to their most recent days flashed through his mind. Most of these memories were fond, but his mind soon darkened with the memory of his sister's "accident".
But it wasn't just a memory. It viciously ripped through his conscience, forcing him to relive the event. For a brief, painful time he could see the car, hear the sickening thud of his sister's body hitting the ground, and feel the cold rain prickle his skin. He tasted the blood of his own injuries and just as he was about to scream found himself back in the park. The silent image of his comatose sister rippled on the back of his eyes; enough to finally break his exhausted mind. Tears came to his eyes and quickly stained his cheeks and trench coat. Not many, but enough; more than he had shed in a long time. He tilted his head back to look at the sky then closed his eyes, lost in grief.
What felt like a lethargic rain began to dampen his face. He opened his eyes to find that it was snowing again. The last light was just a sliver over the horizon; leaving him to the darkness. An aggressive wind bullied the snowflakes into a frenzy and dealt Aya an icy shiver. His body continued to tremble even after the gust had receded. This was enough to make the idea of going home more appealing. He was still reluctant to return to a place where he would be alone, but at least there would be no wind. It didn't matter anyway, since he had counted himself alone since his departure of his sister's bedside. Slowly, he made his way through the falling snow, out of the park, and into the streets. The roads and avenues had long been irrigated of its earlier wanderers and at first the lack of people relieved Aya. But the fact that everyone had gone home to their undisturbed, living, non-comatose families lost no time in settling itself on his conscience. With this new idea weighing him down, he continued through the last hues of dusk.
All of the shops had closed early for the holiday and now the roads were completely deserted. Except for the few spot lights caused by the street lamps, the streets were dark. Which was why the light as the end of the street caught his eye. What kind of store would be open that late on Christmas Eve? At first, Aya could not figure through his eyes or his mind what store it was. However, like a picture coming into focus, as he got closer the unmistakable features of the flower shop came into view. It didn't seem possible. He had closed the store himself before going to see his sister. Could it have been a burglar? No. Even the most novice burglars wouldn't make such a fatal mistake as turning the lights on. Drawn by curiosity, Aya crossed the street and tried the front door. Locked. Moments later he had rounded the building and found the back door more obliged to grant him access. A brief look around told him the store was empty, but his ears pricked up at a soft sound that had come from below him. As if to confirm his speculation, the door to the lower room stood open, casting a warm light onto the floor. Slowly, Aya approached and descended the stairs, sense alert for any possible danger. What he found was far from it.
"Aya kun, glad you've come," Omi smiled at him, a santa hat on his head and a glass of soda in his hand.
"Merry Christmas, Aya," Ken walked over and wrapped an arm around his comrade's shoulders.
The same greeting was present in Yoji's nod as he grinned warmly from the couch.
"Want some soda?" Ken offered as he hastened toward a small table adorned with snacks. Halfway to his destination, he tripped and went sprawling to the floor.
"Maybe I better get it," Omi laughed as he helped the brunette to his feet. Aya's lips stretched into a small smile.
"Hey, Aya. Sit down and stay a while," Yoji's voice was inviting and held a touch of warmth to it as he patted the couch.
Aya's smile grew a fraction wider and he moved to join his teammate. He accepted the soda Omi handed him and settled back against the couch. All evening he had wished he could be home with his family for Christmas. And while this place wasn't quite home, nor these people quite family, for Aya it felt close enough.