Author Fangirling: I was in such a good mood for writing angst. And then someone put on Totoro. What a way to ruin the mood.
Anyway, you all know me for writing a lot of Chiriko fiction, so you probably know that I read a lot, too. I've noticed a lot of reoccurring themes and stereotypes with them, but one of my favorites is the continual rewrites of Chiriko's death. Don't get me wrong, I loved that episode and rewatched it several times, but somethings just kinda bug me. Like, Miboshi just kinda… gave up. And he had the most hectic death… so I just put it in a more slow, intimate setting. So… yeah. Yay for another stupid angsty-overdose.
The room was barely lit up from the window, and heavily silent. Three warriors and a priestess stood together in the heavy air.
Everyone's knees became weak again as they heard another shrill scream from the linen closet. Chiriko had hid himself away there in a desperate attempt to keep his friends safe from the warrior who had possessed him, insisting they leave. None of them feared for their own safety, though, already knowing that their young friend had already won, and was only waiting for his death.
Tamahome had already left the scene, unable to handle another child's death. His beloved stayed, though, and listened to all of her warrior's final gasps and moans. The door to the closet muffled some of the sounds, but not very well.
Having already removed his mask, the tips of Chichiri's hair were free to dangle over his damaged skin. He paid no mind, since his thoughts were else where. "It's already terrible enough that he had to kill himself to save us," he said quietly, "but it's even worse that he should have to spend his last moments in a state of insanity."
Miaka couldn't help but see the bitter irony. Chiriko's mind was always his greatest strength, and now he was loosing it. She couldn't even imagine how much concentration it took to contain the monster Miboshi, and combined with the physical pain he inflicted on himself, it was probably unfathomable.
A few minutes before, a demon Miboshi had summoned withered away when the child stabbed himself. He barely missed his heart, so his death would be slow. Slow, but inevitable. No one was sure how long he would be left in such mental turmoil.
Tasuki thumbed his harisen, reminded that Chiriko had asked him to use it to kill him. Perhaps if he did, he thought, Chiriko wouldn't be in such an awful state right now. His better mind told him to use it now to end his suffering, but he couldn't find the will to do so.
Another scream came from the closet. Chiriko was ordering someone to be quiet. Miboshi, no doubt.
Though he knew it was better not to, Mitsukake couldn't stand being idle anymore. To everyone's surprise, he slid open to door, revealing the weak boy who was just as startled. "Don't come!" he yelled. "I--"
He was cut off, possibly by something in his head. Mitsukake observed how weak he had become; his eyes were shut tightly but his face was still wet with tears, and every part of him was shaking. It seemed he had dropped the peculiar weapon, which laid to his right, followed by a trail of blood leading to his chest. It was bleeding profusely, but if he wanted to, he could still save his life by means of traditional remedies.
Of course, he did want to save his life. But making Chiriko try to contain Miboshi any longer would be the most uncompassionate thing he could do.
"Mitsukake? What do you think yer doin'?" Tasuki yelled from behind him as the taller man struggled to fit into the closet. Chichiri put an arm out to stop the bandit from interfering.
It was a tight squeeze for him, but he made himself comfortable (considerably), and pulled Chiriko's frail body to his chest. Despite being so weak, the boy resisted, trying to put all his focus on holding the monster back. Regardless, the doctor planted his sweaty head against him, and the boy's arms stayed limply at his sides. "Shhh, Chiriko. You're doing very well."
Miaka bit her lip, and secretly thanked Mitsukake for being the one to finally comfort him. However, it might have been too late, because Chiriko didn't even seem able to tell what was going on around him anymore.
"It's okay, Chiriko," the doctor tried to smile. "It's okay to let go-"
"I won't let go!" he yelled, much to everyone's surprise. "I'll never let go!" This was followed by a determined grimace, and then more hiccupped sobs.
The tips of Mitsukake's eyebrows raised. Surely, he was directing that at Miboshi. For Chiriko to be in such anguish, the monster must still be putting up a fight to get free.
"I won't let you hurt… them anymore!" he continued to scream, and his fists shook. "Shut up… shut up!"
The priestess couldn't stand any longer. Her knees gave way and she hit the ground, and she bit her lip even harder to keep from wailing. She had accepted a long time ago that her warriors were willing to die for her, but she still couldn't accept that they would suffer.
"You'll start bleeding if you keep biting that hard," a familiar voice broke her thoughts. Tasuki had knelt by her side, thankful to have an excuse not to stand anymore. Despite the fainting feeling leaving them, they were now eye-level with Mitsukake and Chiriko, and couldn't take their gaze away. Chichiri continued to stand, and stared blankly into the distance.
The doctor closed his eyes lightly and listened to Chiriko mumble inaudibly. The gasping got louder all of a sudden, and his clenched eyes shot back open, but were unable to focus on anything. "Don't!" he yelled. "I won't let you!"
The child's mouth hung open as blank eyes searched the room. Mistukake held his head a little tighter, and everyone's stomachs churned as they all became aware than maybe he was loosing his hold on Miboshi. Instinctively, Tasuki drew out his harisen, as if to fry him as soon as he escaped. "I'll get 'im! I'll get 'im, Chiriko!"
Chiriko didn't respond, however, and possibly didn't even hear him. Tasuki realized this, and his lip quivered as his little friend winced.
Somewhat to their reassurance, Chiriko's shoulders tensed up as he muttered something about staying, and then closed his eyes to relax a bit. They waited, but he didn't do anything that startling.
Mitsukake sighed as he felt Chiriko's shoulder's waver with every breath. He noticed the subtle movement of Chiriko's right hand reaching up towards his wound. His own left hand moved subconsciously towards it, but he held it back and silently scolded himself for wanting so much to heal him. Unable to keep it idle, he grabbed Chiriko's wandering hand. Even though his large was squeezing tightly, the small hand showed no reaction.
Mitsukake choked on his own tears now, aware that he wasn't even able to comfort him. Chiriko's mind was far too removed to even recognize his help.
Chichiri finally looked back with the others as the small boy moaned in a different way. This time it wasn't from mental stress, but from pain. His wet eyes opened slightly to reflect what little light was in the room.
"You're doing very well," Mitsukake tried to comfort him again. "We're all safe. You don't have to worry-"
To his surprise, the small hand squeezed back, and he buried his damp head into his chest. By now, Mitsukake's clothes were soaked in his little comrade's blood, but it was finally slowing down. Instead of yelling at a disembodied voice in head now, he merely screamed, long and hard, into his friend's chest.
The monk finally broke down with the others, and didn't bother containing his sorrow as his head hung, bobbing with every sob. Miaka followed his lead, and buried her face her hands. As hard as he tried not to, Tasuki threw his head back to growl at all the misfortune. The only thing keeping them from breaking down before was the reassurance that Chiriko was probably too distracted to notice his pain. But it seemed now what he was completely aware of it.
In the midst of everyone, Mitsukake knew that he had to remain stronger for a little longer. Just a little longer.
"Mi… tsukake?"
His eyes shot open as he heard the little voice. Chiriko's shoulders heaved upward with every breath, but he didn't look up. The doctor held his shaking body a little closer. "I'm right here."
He didn't hear anymore words, just slower and slower breaths. It was more like he was crying himself to sleep than dieing. But his blood covered hands brought reality back into place.
Miaka finally looked back up. Chiriko's head was firmly planted against the man's chest, his mouth hung open a bit, and his cheeks were damp with tears. His eyes were covered by sweat-covered bangs. He was completely silent.
She looked to her left at Tasuki and Chichiri, who didn't bother looking back, both of them still sobbing. She looked back in the other direction at Mitsukake, who had his eyes closed, and wasn't showing any outward signs of grief.
"It's alright now, Miaka," he said without looking back at her. "He did… very well."
"You're right," her chin shook, and she forced a teary smile. "Very well."