Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei. It belongs to Yoko Matsushita.
Summary: "Nobody has ever achieved perfection. In fact our imperfections are what make us perfect…" Hijiri x Hisoka
Imperfect Perfection
Delicate snowflakes fell gently, twisting and turning before gradually melting away. Hijiri let out a sigh, as he pulled his jacket closer to his body.
Streaks of orange and pink blended together in the evening sky. It was nearing dusk and he was waiting impatiently for the bus to come and take him home. He regretted ever going out on such a snowy day.
"Caught in the snow?" a familiar voice inquired.
"Hisoka!" The auburn haired violinist turned to look at the boy beside him, "What are you doing here?"
"Tsuzuki wanted me check up on you and I was curious about your safety as well."
"Hn, I see, so how is Tsuzuki anyway?" Anyone could guess that after the devil's trill incident, Hijiri had come to very much like the older man.
Hisoka looked away before replying, "Being a stupid idiot as always."
Hijiri chuckled at his companion's description of the elder shinigami, but Hisoka looked a bit bewildered to hear the good natured laughter bubble out of the other teen's mouth. The sandy haired boy's slightly agitated eyes met Hijiri's.
"What's so funny?" he asked, worried Hijiri was laughing at him.
"Nothing it's just so funny how you make fun of Tsuzuki-san like that."
Hisoka rolled his eyes but a faint grin tugged at his pale pink lips, "Ya well that baka deserves it."
Hijiri chuckled again before an uncomfortable silence consumed them. The wind blew more roughly and the snow fell around them wildly, mingling with the hair of the two teens. The pale strips of pink and orange in the sky seemed to disappear only to be replaced with streaks of dark blue.
Hisoka looked over at his companion; it was astonishing how much they looked alike. Same green eyes, same hair style and even almost the same height. But the similarities ended there. There personalities were quite different from each other and sometimes he thought it was startling how the ever became friends.
Hijiri idly wondered if this was the wrong bus top. Another gust of wind blew around them and Hijiri involuntarily shivered.
Hisoka took note of this.
"You shouldn't be standing out here in the snow like this, you might catch something."
Hijiri grinned slightly before answering, "The same goes for you too Hisoka-kun."
But Hisoka didn't have time to answer because Hijiri started talking again.
"Come on, this bus might never come, we can walk to my apartment from here and have a cup of tea."
"Hn, how far is it from here?" Hisoka asked, trying to warm up his hands in his jacket. He had forgotten to wear gloves today.
"Not very far, about two or three blocks from here."
Hisoka almost cringed, he hated the cold. But the thought of that warm, steaming cup of tea drove him on. At least Hijiri wouldn't eat everything up like a certain shinigami would.
"Come on Hisoka!" Hijiri called over his shoulder. The violinist had already started his trek through the pile of snow. Hisoka sighed before running to catch up with him. They walked in compatible silence except for the occasional chattering of teeth.
"Hisoka?"
"Hm, what is it?" Hisoka asked wearily, he felt far too cold to talk right now.
"Hisoka, don't you just love the snow?" Hijiri asked, reaching out to catch the falling snow in his upturned palm, a childish grin spread about his face.
But the question Hijiri asked made all thoughts of coldness fly out of his head. Instead his face darkened and he pursed his lips together.
"Hm, Hisoka?"
"Hijiri … I don't like the snow."
The answer shouldn't have worried him but it did. There was bitter distaste evident in Hisoka's voice but to an almost extreme. Somehow Hijiri knew the bitterness in Hisoka's voice ran along deeper lines than snow.
The very same substance Hisoka loathed now crunched under his feet as he walked ahead, oblivious to the stares of his companion.
"Wait!" Hijiri scrambled after the young shinigami.
"Hisoka, onegai, tell me why don't you like the snow?"
Hisoka's body stopped moving at the sound of his name being called. This was probably one of the questions he hated answering the most. In fact, nobody had ever guessed that he hated the snow so much. Hijiri was the first one, not even Tsuzuki knew.
"Hisoka, please tell me!" Hijiri wasn't about to give up yet. Something was wrong with Hisoka and it wasn't the usual coldness he radiated.
Hijiri's begging took its toll on Hisoka. He found it hard to keep this concealed in his heart for any longer. And he felt the laughter, the hate, the coldness all bubble up inside him, till it got closer and closer to where it could escape. A bitter laugh escaped Hisoka's lips and resounded cruelly in the frosty air.
"Because Hijiri, it's everything I'm not."
"It's pure, white, untainted unlike me. Don't you see Hijiri it's an image of boasting perfection. The snow mocks me Hijiri! It mocks me!"
An uncomfortable silence filled the air but the echoes of their recent conversation resounded in their hearts. Hisoka looked away, an even colder look masking his boyish features. I am such an idiot! Now Hijiri probably thinks I have some mental conditions as well. The demons in hell are probably laughing at me, mocking me to their hearts content.
The childhood memories came flooding back to him, being laughed at, locked up, and even being refused by his mother. It was probably then he had started to hate it, hate the white substance that seemed to be his only companion.
He hated the way it fell so slowly, so softly like it was deceiving everybody, while he fell so fast, going straight down with a big thud. He hated the way it so white, lighter than his already pale features. He just hated the snow.
The force of the feelings and emotions sent the emphatic staggering backward but a steady hand held him in place.
"Hisoka, listen to me, the snow…….. it isn't perfect. And for all I know it never will be."
"But Hijiri…"
"No! No buts, just listen to me!" The once sweet boy's face held a look of sheer determination, like the kind he wore when he played his violin.
"Nobody has ever achieved perfection. In fact our imperfections are what make us perfect Hisoka, they are what make us human. They are what separate the elements from the man; to be perfect is to be inhuman."
"Is that what you want, to be inhuman?" Hijiri asked, but he didn't wait for an answer, he just walked on ahead, through the onslaught of the snow.
Hisoka stared blankly at the retreating back of his friend. Nobody had ever explained it like that before, but it left it him with many doubts about himself. Hisoka felt as if Hijiri had gone through the same thing the feeling of inadequacy. The sheer determination in his eyes was a give away.
A snowflake fell slowly into Hisoka's upturned palm, and this time he didn't flinch but a small smile tugged at his lips.
Owari