Harvest Moon
By Lunare Valhart
Warnings: Shounen-ai/Shoujo-ai, boring farm stuff
Pairings: Tyka, et al.
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Prologue: Save the Homeland
A soft rain pattered against the windshield, creating a steady rhythm as he drove on in the shower. The temperature was pleasantly cool, leaving a fresh feel as he slowed to a stop in front of his complex. He liked it, really; it made him feel as if a heavy burden were lifted from his shoulders, even if tears, however unbidden, did leak out.
He reached behind him to retrieve his umbrella, many different thoughts cruising through his head. Groping around, he felt a corner of something jab into his hand, sending a small jolt of pain up his arm. Annoyed, and hissing an oath, he pulled out the offending object. He stopped short when his eyes fell upon it.
It was an iron picture frame, expert metalwork and staining done to make the engraving of the Japanese irises along the border appear realistic. Behind the glass was a yellowing photograph of three men and two women, all with smiles of varying degrees. The younger female looked to be in her early thirties, bright garnet eyes complementing the cheery teal sundress she was wearing. The elder of the two appeared to be somewhere in her sixties, the wrinkled corners of her lavender eyes shining with pride. The eldest male looked to be around the elderly woman's age, his steely eyes also having that prideful gleam. His large, weathered hand rested on the shoulder of the middle-aged man, who seemed to be in the middle of a mischievous prank as he and the third male, a little boy no older than six, shared a conspiring wink. At the forefront of the picture, the little boy was, somewhat awkwardly, holding up a small sheep dog, a blue ribbon attached to its soft leather collar. Behind them, a picturesque farmhouse with the corner of a barn and pasture could be seen, a faint splotch of white and black spotting the green field.
He remembered that farm, the old ranch his grandfather and father both grew up in. The farm his grandparents married in; the farm his parents met at; the farm he, himself, was born on. How could he forget?
Sighing, he frowned bitterly at the elder men in the photograph. It had been their constant feuding that had disturbed the peaceful life he had as a child. Despite their wives' desperate attempts to sedate their tempers, it had done little good to calm the two stubborn men. Only distance and the eternal sleep of Death had finally ceased their struggles, with his grandfather now dead. The patriarch's cremation had been a month ago, and he, as the heir to his grandfather's self-made fortune, had to sort out the last of the old farmer-turned-businessman's finances.
The only problem now was what to do with all the money.
Oh, sure—he knew his mother would have a handsome portion of the fortune, certainly enough for a woman living on her own to live out her days comfortably. But he would still end up with well over 6.5 million American dollars; far more than he needed, and far more than necessary. He had donated portions to various charities and organizations, but he still had so much...
He glanced sidelong at the bundle of papers he had found in his grandfather's office, stashed away behind the files and ledgers. He didn't know why his grandfather had pushed these papers away, but curiosity had struck him relentlessly, urging him to take the bundle with him back to his apartment. Somehow, he could feel that this, whatever it may've been, was important.
He tucked the picture into his jacket, along with the papers, and finally stepped out with his umbrella. The refreshing rainfall made a gentle beat against the waterproof fabric, and he allowed himself a faint smile. He didn't quite remember why, but rainy days were always pleasant for him. For most, including his few friends, these sort of days were cold and left them feeling dreary; his moods, however, seemed to take a better turn. Sure, he didn't like to get wet (an old habit from his teenage years, when he religiously wore face-paint for whatever reason; even the high-quality brand he used wasn't smudge-proof) but something about the sounds and smells and sights and even taste, to a degree, eased him into a calmer, more relaxed state of mind.
Trudging up to his apartment, sparsely decorated with small trinkets and a few awards for frivolous things, he decided to see just what those papers held. He sat down on his couch, looking at the dates for the oldest one and pulled out a yellowed manuscript.
He nearly dropped the entire bunch of papers, in shock of what he had just seen.
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The brunette sat languidly in the corner of the café, where he stirred at his mocha latte in disinterest. He had no idea why his old friend would call him out so suddenly, considering how conservative the older youth was. All that he had managed to pry from him in their quickly-squeezed conversation was that this was very, very important.
"Well, I don't see what else it could be," He muttered to himself as he took a sip and looked out the window distastefully at the rain, "He never has anything to say, unless it's important."
"And this is no different."
The new voice caused him to jump, whipping his head to meet the stoic garnet-amethyst eyes of his childhood friend. He huffed in slight embarrassment, "Aw, Kai! Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?"
The older boy shrugged indifferently.
Rolling his eyes at his incorrigible friend, he gestured to the empty seat before him, to which Kai accepted. Shaking off some water droplets from his long slate bangs, the older youth pulled out what looked to be an impressive amount of old letters from his raincoat and unceremoniously dropped them on the table.
"Do you have any idea what these are, Wyatt?" Kai queried, knowing that the other youth had no clue to their value.
Wyatt gaped at the bundle. "That is a lot of letters."
"Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Smithwright," Kai snorted, "and close your mouth; it's demeaning. I found these in my grandfather's study, hidden. These are letters from the mayor of his hometown, about the property he used to own there."
Wyatt snapped out of his daze, curiosity piqued. "Wait, you mean your family farm? Why would the mayor of some small town in the middle of nowhere write to your hotshot grandpa about it?" Kai's steely gaze hardened somewhat, and Wyatt wasn't sure if it was the reason the mayor wrote his grandfather, or his small jab to the place the best years of the other's childhood were spent at.
He soon found out. "The first letter was dated four or so years ago, sometime around June; it was about my father's failing health. The next one said that my father was getting weaker, and he had to give up some of his animals and cut back the amount of crops he was growing. The third…" His pale fist clenched, and Wyatt had a sinking feeling that he already knew what the third letter contained. "The third said that my father had passed away, and his funeral arrangements were underway. He said that my father's will kept the family land just that. I get the feeling that was the only letter Grandfather responded to, because all the rest over the past few years were mostly the mayor's pleadings to respect his son's last wish." He looked at Wyatt seriously, a pleading look in his eyes. "You're the law major, Wyatt; I need your help. I don't know what to do."
Wyatt blinked, taken aback by his friend's plea. It was rare for Kai to push his pride aside to simply admit he wasn't always the best at something, let alone ask for assistance. Like his grandfather before him, the Hiwatari heir was a perfectionist by nature, and normally would take matters and projects into his own hands to ensure it met his standards. Needless to say, not very many people could tolerate working with him. And yet, here he was, open to suggestions and asking for guidance.
Who said you couldn't teach an old dog new tricks?
"Well…" Wyatt managed to force out, clearing his throat nervously, "I can safely assume your mother knows about this?" A brief pained look crossed his features.
"I told her just last night, after I finished reading them," He groaned, burying his face in his hands, "She was hysterical. I'm sure she expected Grandfather to tell her that her husband was dead, but she obviously didn't know him all that well."
Wyatt winced in sympathy. "And, what did she say about your father's will?"
"Quote, "We have to give your father some sort of respect, to reconcile the gap we've made between us; take the farm, and bring it and our family's honor back from death!" Unquote."
"Okay… A little melodramatic, but understandable," Wyatt reasoned, "And your grandfather obviously didn't want you to do it, otherwise he would have told you. What are your thoughts?"
"That's just it; I don't really know!" Kai grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, "I loved that farm as a kid, but I haven't been back there since Grandfather more or less disowned my father when I was seven. Gods, Wyatt, that's sixteen ago! I don't even think I have half the energy to keep up the farm, after spending so much time here in Tokyo. I want to do it, even if just for my mother's sake, but…"
Wyatt sighed, leisurely taking a sip of his now-lukewarm mocha latte. "I don't know, Kai; the answer seems pretty obvious to me." Kai's red-lavender eyes darted up to meet the brunette's dark almond in slight annoyance and curiosity. "Take the farm for a trial run."
There was a pregnant pause.
"Excuse me?" Kai growled darkly, anger distinct, "That land is not some used car from a dealership, Smithwright; it's been in my family for the past three generations, four if I accept the offer." Just as he was about to continue, Wyatt shielded himself with his hands in a placating manner.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Kai!" He whimpered, shaking under the older boy's heated scowl he and some of their other friends had aptly dubbed 'the Fiery Glare of Doom', "I didn't mean it like that! I meant that you could take care of the farm for a couple of years or so, and then make the decision whether to keep it or not! So if you decide to sell it, at least the land will be somewhat healthy again, and you won't have to hurt your mother's feelings by refusing like your grandfather did."
Once again, Kai fell silent, but it was more of a thoughtful one than the appalled lapse minutes before. It did sound like a good plan. He wouldn't necessarily be disappointing his distraught mother if he refused to continue, and at that point, the land could very well be quite livable and much easier to sell. And due to his grandfather's seemingly endless money flow, he didn't necessarily have to worry about college for a while; he had just finished a technical degree in Business Management, so university wasn't really a necessity. Plus, he had felt smothered in the city, and the country air could be good for his health…
"That does sound like a good plan," Kai answered finally, getting up to leave and grabbing his coat, "I'll head back home to write to the mayor, and it should be a clear path from there."
"Good luck, Kai!" Wyatt called after him as he headed out the door, slipping his hood on.
He noticed that the gloom of the morning shower had faded, and now amidst the rain, beams of sunlight were clear.
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"Final call!" The parson bellowed from the ferry's deck, "All ashore who's going ashore! Final call!…"
Kai heaved a sigh, leaning against the rail of the ferryboat as the last of the passengers scurried on board with medicines and last-minute trinkets. Two weeks ago, this had sounded like a wonderful idea, but reality was rearing its ugly head as the weight of what he was doing fell on his shoulders.
He hadn't been fooling, when he had said that it had been far too long since he had done any real farm work; he considered himself lucky that he still knew how to work with the basic tools. Both his mother and the mayor insisted that farming was like learning how to ride a bicycle – plenty of bumps and bruises, but you never forgot it – but he had decided to spend the days he wasn't packing reading up on agriculture and ranches. Better safe than sorry, after all.
The ferry's whistle blared, and the boat was soon headed out into open water and towards the small, oceanside village he remembered only vaguely from his youth.
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A/N: In case you haven't noticed, this is a general Harvest Moon and Beyblade crossover. I say general because this is not based on any one game in the series. I'll leave the Harvest Moon game references at the end of the chapter. Like so:
HARVEST MOON REFERENCES
Title—It comes from the second Playstation game, where you have to save the village from becoming developer feeding grounds. I think they want to make an amusement park… sweatdrop
The photograph—This comes from HM64, where collecting photographs is one of the little side things you can do.
Inheritance of the farm—Okay, in theory, this applies to all the games. In most, you inherit it from your late grandpa; and in one or two, you inherit it from your late father.
The time limit—This does apply to all of them. Depending on the game, you will have at the very least a year to restore the farm.
And the disclaimer: Harvest Moon is © Natsume and Nintendo. Beyblade is © Aoki Takao and a whole slew of animation studios. Will try to avoid OCs. Thank you.