I try
But it's so hard to believe
I try
But I can't see what you see
I try, I try, I try…
My whole world is changing
I don't know where to turn
I can't leave you waiting,
But I can't stay and watch the city burn
Watch it burn…
Cry - First Act
Shizuru had just finished loading eight very full glasses of soda onto a tray when the doorbell rang. Carrying the tray out into the hallway with her, she called "The door's open!" thinking it was Botan - who had yet to turn up to Kazuma's birthday party- and continued toward the living room. She could hear her brother and Yusuke's raucous laughter, followed by a rather indignant yelp from Hiei, which ended in a snarl.
This was enough to distract Shizuru from the fact that though the door had opened, no cheery greeting was issued. She heard feet by the door, but not the quick, happy feet that Botan possessed.
A deep, hesitant, all too familiar voice called after her, "Shizuru?" and she froze.
The tray fell, clattering to the floor as her arms went limp in sudden terror. All eight glasses shattered, splashing soda over the walls and tiles. Kazuma stuck his head around the doorframe, but barley glanced at her as he caught sight of the intruder. Shizuru's looked up at her younger brother, but she doubted he even knew she was there at that moment: Kazuma's eyes were locked on the man who stood in the doorway.
Straightening, subconsciously pulling herself up to her full height, fists clenched and heart pounding, Shizuru turned to meet her father.
It always scared her how much the man looked like Kazuma. They were exact duplicates: down to the heavy build, and curling hair. The one difference was that Kazuma's hair was the same startlingly bright shade of orange that had been so becoming on their mother. Unaware of the movement, Shizuru pushed a strand of her own brown hair behind her ear. It always irked her that she shared a common physical trait with a man she hated: her hair was the same soft shade of brown.
Kazuo Kuwabara looked embarrassed and slightly shamed as he stood, hands in his pockets, looking down at his shoes. He glanced up at Shizuru, swallowed visibly, and opened his mouth as if to speak.
Shizuru beat him to it.
"What do you want?" she asked, barely keeping the quiver out of her voice. The fear was quickly turning to barely contained rage.
Kazuo took a step back, then said softly, "I… I just thought that…"
"You thought what?!" Shizuru demanded loudly, unaware of the small crowd that was gathering behind her.
"It's Kazuma's birthday," Kazuo said, his tone still soft, as if he were treading by den of a wildcat. "I wanted to take the two of you out to dinner later…"
Shizuru let out a short, bitter laugh at this.
"Please," he pleaded, opening his arms to her in placation. She had to resist the urge to take a step back. She refused to let him frighten her. "I just want to the see the two of you! It's been awhi-"
"I've got a restraining order, would you like to see that?!" Shizuru yelled, unable to contain herself longer.
"Honey, people can change," Kazuo said softly, his eyes beginning to harden. "I changed."
"This sure hasn't!" Shizuru said, pulling up the left sleeve of her shirt to indicate a long, pink scar just above her elbow. It had come from the glass table she'd been pushed into when she was 13. "You're pleading with the wrong woman here, Kazuo! You beat any compassion I might have had for you right outta me the first time you hit me!"
"Shizuru, if you'd just listen for a minute-"
"Get out of my house," she interrupted quietly, staring at the soda that was quickly soaking into the carpet at her feet.
"Shizuru, please," he said taking a step toward her.
"I SAID GET OUT!" she screamed, throat tearing painfully. Rushing forwards, she shoved the much larger man out the door and slammed it after him, sliding the dead bolt in place. Then she put her back to the door and began to hyperventilate.
The air rushed in and out of her lungs in quick, shallow breaths. The world began to spin, and her knees began to shake. She was swimming through a pool of thick darkness, slowly drowning as she took in more oxygen than her brain could handle.
A gentle hand on her shoulder jerked her out of her stupor. She looked up and met the eyes of her baby brother; he was frightened, she could tell, but whether for her or of their father she didn't know. Kurama stood behind him, trying to coax her into taking long, deep breaths. She heard his voice distantly, as though she were going deaf.
Shrugging off the hand and pushing past Kurama, she fled to the bathroom down the hall, closed the door behind her, and locked it.
Then she unlocked it, stormed back down the hall, and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her coat, which was hanging by the door. She fled back to the bathroom, away from the prying, questioning eyes of her brother and his friends.
When the bathroom door was closed and locked Shizuru sat down on the cool tiles, and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill.
Stop it, Shizuru thought angrily, taking another drag. Stop acting so fucking childish! You have no reason to be afraid of him! He can't hurt you. He can't hurt Kazuma. So stop it! Stop crying!
And just like that, she was under control. Almost
She would smoke 3 and a half cigarettes in less than ten minutes, in a vain attempt to chase away the shaking nerves that had taken root in her arms and legs.
Making a split-second decision, determined that she would sleep peacefully in her bed tonight, even if it killed her, Shizuru rose on shaking legs. She put the cigarettes and lighter into her pocket, splashed some cold water on her face, and unlocked the bathroom door.
Out in the hallway Keiko was helping Kazuma mop up the spilled soda. When the bathroom door opened, they both looked up at her, their eyes like those of deer caught in headlights, and Shizuru had the dismal, unsettling feeling that their hushed whispers had been about her. Kazuma's guilty look as he stood hastily did nothing to help the situation.
"Shizuru," he said, his voice just a little too quiet. "I… I was thinking…"
Keiko stared culpably at the carpet.
"I'm going out," Shizuru interrupted her brother's weak stammering. "The pizza should be here soon. Money's on the kitchen counter." She grabbed her coat and pulled it on, and took a set of keys out of the pocket. "Happy Birthday, Kazuma," she said, giving him a small, sad smile. "Sorry about the carpet, Keiko," she threw over her shoulder as she turned. "Let Kazuma do that, you're a guest."
She turned from them, unbolted the front door, and stepped out into the hallway. She looked both ways, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding as she realized that Kazuo Kuwabara was nowhere to be seen, and headed down the hall to the elevator. Halfway to the elevator she grew nervous and decided to take the stairs instead. She took them two at a time, nearly tripping over herself in her haste to be away from the building.
She spied her father in the lobby, making a call on a payphone, his back to her.
He'll never see you run, the little girl in her head said fearfully. He'll never know you're afraid. And you ARE afraid...
Shut up! Shizuru thought angrily, giving the little girl a viscous shove into the back of her mind, and walking calmly across the lobby floor as if nothing were amiss. She had to ignore the painful throb of her heart as it threatened to beat out of her chest.
The bench at the bus stop was unoccupied, which was not unusual for this time of evening. She took a seat and waited patiently for the bus, smoking another cigarette to pass the time.
As the bus came over the horizon, trundling slowly up the slight incline of the street, Shizuru cursed the person who decided smoking should be banned on busses and put out her cigarette.
She climbed aboard the bus, paid the fee, and took a seat near the front.
She transferred routes two times, slowly working her way out of the city, and into the mountains. The ride was long, as usual, though not boring, which was very unusual. This trip was almost always taken as ceremony, and one that Shizuru tried not to think on too much for the pain it brought.
She was in an unusually contemplative mood, her thoughts centering on the one person whose absence in her life she regretted above all others: her mother. Aiko Kuwabara (aptly named, for she was greatly loved by all her knew her) had been a gentle, beautiful woman. She was impossibly young for the life she had chosen (she would have been only 40 had she been alive), but she had never regretted that she had stayed with her children to the bitter, cruel end. She had died of leukemia just 2 days before Shizuru's 13th birthday.
Shizuru remembered this birthday better than any day in her life, because her gift had been a new (black) dress to wear to her mother's funeral. At that point in time she had still been in shock, and did not realize until later in the evening (after she had shredded the dress with scissors and nearly burnt her room in attempt to be rid of the damnable thing) what a completely cruel gift it had been. That night something inside her had snapped, and it would take three years of vicious self-destruction to mend her broken spirit. During those three years of her life Shizuru would commit every possible sin under the sun short of rape, murder and manslaughter. If any of her acts had ever been repeated in the company she kept now, she would most certainly have moved away in shame.
Shizuru was rubbing absently at a small scar on her upper arm (obtained from a straying needle) when the bus jolted to a halt.
The driver turned back to her and said, "This is the last stop, miss. You getting off?"
Shizuru looked around, realizing that she was alone on the bus, and nodded to the driver.
He tipped his hat at her as she exited. The doors swung shut behind her, and the bus started off again with another shuddering halt.
She watched it trundle off over the horizon, before turning to stare at the small copse of trees behind her. Her mother waited on the other side of those trees, down a little path, just beyond a set of steps and an iron fence, whose gate was rusting in it's hinges.
Unless someone's oiled it, she though offhandedly.
Not likely. The gate had creaked for as long as Shizuru could remember.
Noting without interest the orange and purple sunset, Shizuru put her hands in her coat pockets and started up the trail.
The path was overgrown now, green vegetation hanging this way, and clinging that. The dirt, which had once been smooth and beaten, now shifted under her feet, and there, just around the next turn, were the steps, grass and weeds springing from their numerous cracks. The trees cleared, allowing the dead a full view of the sky as they lay in their graves. The gate still creaked, rusted red as blood. It was as cold as… death. The metal bit into her fingers, and she hurried to take her hands off it.
Thirty-seven steps would carry her to her mother's resting-place. She had counted last year, and the year before, and every year since Aiko had been laid to rest.
Thirty-seven steps on the nose, and she stood at the foot of a grave. Dead stems and brown, withered petals littered the ground around the gravestone. In the summer wild delphinium and scarlet flax would spring up from the ground, covering the old, grey stone in bright reds and oranges.
"Mom would like this," Kazuma had said after he'd finished helping her plant the seeds. "This place is so… cheerless. She'd like the bright colors."
"She looked so good in red," Shizuru had murmured in response, dusting off the knees of her pants as she stood.
That had been almost five years ago. It had been a blessing to know that the wildflowers they had planted had taken root. They would bloom annually, now, for as long as the grave stood, or maybe even longer. Each summer their vibrant, flame-like colors would blaze across Aiko's grave, forever warming her resting-place.
The stems were dead now. They were crushed into the ground as Shizuru knelt in front of the headstone. Her fingers, numb and uncharacteristically gentle, traced the Kanji of her mother's name, eyes trailing down to read the simple inscription: "Those who knew her were the better that she lived."
"I…I know I don't usually come visit you during the winter," Shizuru began softly, pressing her forehead against the cold stone and closing her eyes. "I just needed… I needed some comfort, and I didn't know what else to do."
She opened her eyes, and looked up into the swiftly fading daylight.
"Just let me be here for awhile, let me rest."
Turning and leaning back against the grave marker, Shizuru pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her arms. "I'm so tired, Mama," she whispered. "I'm exhausted. I've been fighting him since you were sick… He just keeps pushing. I can't push back anymore. I'm not strong enough."
Oh, my baby… she could almost hear her mother murmur. There there, my love. It's all right. Don't cry now, I'm here…
But you aren't! the little girl screamed. And it's not all right! It's NEVER been all right!
"I won't cry," Shizuru said to herself, the words infused with false strength. "I won't, I won't, I won't…"
End Act One
