Author's Notes: :::cries hysterically::: I don't deserve all the wonderful reviews you people write. I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy! This story would have died a long time ago if it wasn't for all the support you readers have given me. So thank you! Very very much.
This story is written for all of you.
And um, I must ramble a little before getting to the story. I haven't forgotten about Enemy. (So YamatoFangirl, there's absolutely no need to kill me...no need at all...) It's just that I've run into a sort of block since Chapter Nine has a battle scene and I have absolutely no idea how to write it. I've read plenty of fantasy novels though, and I'll come up with something...soon. :::stares up at the ceiling and fails to define "soon":::
And also, I know it's been a long time since I updated anything. That's because my grandmother, who's gone back to China, (I'm Chinese, have I ever mentioned that?) was diagnosed with stomach cancer over the summer. It was so unexpected and a huge shock to our family. We went to Beijing immediately. No computer. No internet. No inspiration to write as my grandma goes through chemotherapy. I've been really depressed. She raised me until I was ten and we are really close. So please pray for a wonderful old lady who is very precious to those around her. And forgive me for neglecting you all.
My Inferno
Chapter Six
"TK?"
The boy couldn't stop the smile from spreading over his face. It felt wonderfully strange. He hadn't smiled for years, not since the divorce.
Not since the last time he saw his brother.
"TK."
There was no response, and Yamato felt the smile slip from his face.
The boys stared at each other, blue meeting blue. Brothers turned strangers.
"TK." A woman's voice. She took TK's hand and looked at Yamato.
Yamato took a step back. "Mother..." he whispered.
"Do you remember what I've always told you, TK?" She was speaking loudly, sharply, her eyes never leaving Yamato's face...
She wanted him to hear every word.
"Yes, mommy."
"He's a bad example for you, honey. He's the reason you don't have a whole family. He and that father of yours. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mommy."
"They are exactly alike, father and son. But you are like me, TK. You belong to me. Now come, you shouldn't be alone with him, and grandma wants to see you."
Later, Yamato would remember Mother's words and curl up into a tight, shivering ball. Later, he would remember TK's parting glance and bite his lips to stop the tears until he drew blood. But for now there was nothing, only numbness as the glass shattered all around him.
TK let Mother drag him away. "Goodbye, Yamato."
And Yamato allowed himself to fall to his knees, allowed a single tear to trace the smoothness of his cheek, the last tear he would ever shed in more than six years. And at last, after the numbness had faded, after the burning in his eyes had weakened, at last Yamato began to understand the dark emptiness of his heart.
Betrayed. His heart knew. It had been betrayed.
OOOOOO
He was falling apart.
Shattering...crumbling...alone...
The front door slammed. Footsteps, coming closer.
Cold...feverish...weak...
No, please. Not tonight...not tonight.
So many bruises, so many cuts. He wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to do something to ease the misery. But everything's frozen...everything...
One night...let me go, just this one night.
He's never felt so frail, so tired. Years of physical and emotional torture were finally taking their toll. And what little health he'd managed to gain in the week of Father's absence was gone. What little strength Taichi's kindness had given him was drained away into nothingness.
Taichi...
And he was ill. The unbearable aching over his entire body, the burning pain behind his temples, the icy coldness of his fingers and toes, the violent coughing fits tearing at his lungs, the fever making it so hard, so horribly difficult to think...
I can't take anymore, I can't. Please don't...
The door to his bedroom burst open, and Yamato stared into Father's eyes. He didn't cringe, didn't look away, just stood stiffly like a stone statue with his face blank. But the hand gripping the back of his chair betrayed him. Father's gaze traveled from his face to that trembling hand, seeming to understand instantly that Yamato was afraid.
Father took a step closer.
I'm not afraid of you. I am not.
And made a disgusted noise in his throat. He threw one last careless glance over his shoulder, and left, slamming the door.
And Yamato collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, falling weakly across his bed.
It was just as well that Taichi seemed to have finally given up on him. Because Yamato knew, with absolute certainty, that he did not have the strength to push the other boy away a third time.
OOOOOO
He stood outside the door, listening. His hand touched the door knob, dropped to his side, then touched the door knob again.
There was shouting and the sound of breaking china. Then silence.
Taichi didn't know what to do. He wanted desperately to see Yama, but he was afraid of what he would find in the tiny apartment.
Exactly three seconds later, the decision was made for him.
Taichi jumped back as the door was yanked open, and the man from the picture on Yama's wall stood before him. He had gained more wrinkles over the years, and more weight. But the eyes that glittered angrily in the faint hall light was the same.
Yamato's father pushed past Taichi and stalked down the stairs.
All his confusion, his irritation melted away the instant Taichi looked inside.
There were broken dishes on the floor. And Yama was leaning tiredly against the wall.
Taichi went in, closing the door gently behind him.
"Yama?" He spoke softly, touching the other boy's hair tentatively, as if Yama could shatter at any moment.
Sapphire eyes opened slowly. His lips were dry and cracked.
"Don't call me that," he murmured.
Taichi swallowed.
Soft. Everything about the blonde was suddenly so very soft. His voice, the dark blue of his eyes, even the way he held himself. Something was very very wrong.
"Yama..."
"What are you doing here?" Yamato tried to move away, but Taichi wrapped both arms around his waist and drew him close.
"I told you I'd come back," he whispered against the soft golden hair.
And it scared him, scared him so very much when Yama didn't fight, when the blonde simply laid his head on Taichi's shoulder and went limp, as if he couldn't hold himself up a second longer.
"What happened?" Taichi asked, still in that comforting whisper.
"It was my fault..." Yama sighed, "I didn't mean to drop the plate...but Father was in a bad mood...he got so angry..."
"Yama...." Taichi said again, and the blonde seemed to hear the worry in his voice.
"I'm fine," he lifted his head so Taichi could see his face, his beautiful eyes, "it's just been a very long day."
And the deep ache in his heart made Taichi lift his hand to stroke the delicate skin. He cupped Yama's cheek and ran his thumb over those pale lips, tenderly, again and again.
"Would you tell me nothing?"
Yama's eyes closed as if he was falling asleep. "I would tell you," he murmured, "that you are warm..." he sighed, "...and that I'm tired...so very tired..."
Taichi couldn't help it. He kissed Yama's burning brow, threaded his fingers through Yama's hair, pulled him even closer.
"You are sick," he said, "can't you take care of yourself at all?"
He lifted that fragile body and carried it over to the couch.
"Stay with me," Yama whispered.
Taichi covered him with a blanket. "I will. I always will."
OOOOOO
"I was so blind. In trying to write about him, in trying to understand him, I made the best mistake of my life which was not a mistake at all. I forgot that it is impossible to understand someone the way you understand yourself, without loving them more than they could ever love themselves."
- from The Soul of Yama, as was written by Yagami Taichi
OOOOOO
Life was a tangle of strings tripping you. Life was the weight of the Earth on your shoulders. Life was a cold stone cage with no sun. If all you had was pride, would you still throw it away?
He knew what they would think when they find his body.
Poor boy. Such a pity. Such a waste.
He'd always thought he could endure it. And he did, for years. But the pain had grown so much, until it was bigger than him, until he wondered if he could ever recover from it, if he wasn't already broken. And he's beginning to realize that there would be no escape. Not now. Not ever. Not while he could still breathe and think and feel.
Men great of soul can bear the blows of heaven and not flinch.
But for how long?
OOOOOO
Rubisco. Is. An. Enzyme.