A Butterfly's Gift of Salvation
By Ephirel
Ship: Ohtori/Shishido
Summary: PoT/xxxHolic crossover. Shishido likes Ohtori, Ohtori likes Shishido, but Ohtori's heart is torn between this relationship and his religion. Enter Yuuko and her granting of wishes for a price. Will Ohtori take it?
Note: I'm afraid that everyone's gone terribly OOC, but I just had the itch to write an Easter fic, and ta-da! Here it is! Lol.
He hated the upcoming weekend.
It reminded him of the one thing he'd never get. One boy, who'd been too adamant to his faith to even consider listening to his words.
Salvation… The dark-haired boy thought bitterly, what crap. Kicking at the dirt, Shishido started for the gates of Hyoutei Gakuen, intending to get out of the academy before he started blowing his top. Practice was over after all, and Atobe was not one to recall the Hyoutei regulars back for extra training; especially not when Jiroh had to head over for church for some mass or whatever. Now… that brought another question into Shishido's mind – why couldn't Ootori be like Jiroh? That narcoleptic boy was another Christian, and he had no qualms accepting Atobe's confession…
Growling, the third-year Hyoutei regular stalked out of the academy, intent on going over to one of the street tennis courts to let off some steam.
By the tennis courts, Ootori Choutarou sighed as he saw the departing figure… The tension between Shishido-senpai and him was becoming more and more stifling lately, and although Ootori longed to admit his feelings for his doubles partner, the teachings engrained into him since young had him backing away at the last minute. He knew that it was cowardly of him to do this – even Atobe-buchou had started dropping words that sounded suspiciously like advice now and then – yet he just couldn't break away from the stigma of his religion with regards to same sex relationships.
With a heavy heart, the silver-haired boy started walking out of the nearly deserted academy, but instead of returning home immediately to prepare for the Easter Vigil mass, he took to wandering around the streets, his mind still pondering on the pressing issues at hand.
Admittedly, he had never thought of Shishido Ryou as anything other than a good friend and wonderful doubles partner. However, that sudden revelation by Gakuto-senpai about how Shishido liked him on White Day had him in a state of… well, suffice to say that shock was an understatement. Then, the relationship Jiroh-senpai and Atobe-buchou had came to light, in turn causing Ootori to question in his beliefs in what was right and wrong. Jiroh, though one year his senior, had been from the same church and catechism class, and if he wasn't mistaken, Akutagawa-jii was as strict about religion as his parents were… So how did Jiroh-senpai come to his decision and make his parents accept it?
'Follow your heart.'
That was what Jiroh had told him. Yet Ootori's heart was having conflicting stands…
What is it that he ought to choose? Those ingrained beliefs? Or the liking – or perhaps even love – that he had for Shishido-senpai? Once again, Ootori questioned why he had entered into Hyoutei Gakuen and its tennis club? Why did he have to meet Shishido Ryou? If things had been different, he could have avoided all these confusion and pain.
So lost in his thoughts was he that the boy did not even realized that he had entered into a strange house until a familiar scent of sandalwood hit him.
"Welcome to my shop." A husky voice drawled, successfully pulling Ootori out of his reverie. On seeing a lady sprawled against a divan, her butterfly-patterned, blood-red kimono worn in a most unconventional manner, Ootori blushed furiously, "Sumimasen! I must have been too caught up in my thoughts and came in here accidentally."
"Ah, but there is no such thing as accidents, or coincidences," the lady murmured lazily as she took a puff from an ornate pipe, which was surprisingly, the source of the sandalwood scent, "everything happens for a reason."
As her eyes bore into Ohtori's, the latter was struck by how those blood-red orbs seemed to read him as if his soul were bare for all the world to see. He did not even notice when a young girl pulled him to sit on the tatami whilst another brought a mug of tea over. It was only when said mug of tea was pressed into his hands did he snap out of the surrealistic trance. Gratefully, he thanked the two girls before taking a careful sip of the tea, all the while missing the thoughtful look in the lady's eyes.
Comfortable silence permeated throughout the room as the kimono-clad lady quietly smoked her pipe, leaving Ootori to mull through her words… 'Everything happens for a reason.' Can I beleve that Shishido-senpai and I have met for a reason too…? That I ought not feel ashamed… but will God ever forgive me if I make that decision? What will chichiue and hahaue think?
"What is your wish child?"
The voice, so silky and comforting, startled Ootori once more, though this time, the wetness on his face shocked him further than the voice did. Who would've thought that I'd cry in front of a stranger? Ootori wondered in wry amusement before speaking up, "Gomen… Miss…"
"Yuuko."
"Yuuko-san. I'm sorry, I must look like a wreck now."
"What is your wish, child?" Yuuko continued in the same lazy, silky tone, all the while ignoring Ootori's self-deprecating words. Her face seemed blank, yet Ootori sensed understanding in those red-gold orbs. Understanding, along with an otherworldly wisdom. A wisdom that ought not exist in this world.
"What is your wish, Choutarou?" The same question was uttered once more, and this time, Ootori was not surprised by her knowing his name. Wiping his eyes, he managed a small smile, "I was forgiveness from my Father for what I will do next."
"I can grant you that, but it'll come with a price." Yuuko replied quietly, leaving the Hyoutei regular fumbling his pockets for his wallet. This action was quickly stopped, though, when Yuuko continued, "I don't want money."
"Eh?"
Stumped, Ootori stared at the black-haired lady in surprise – if it wasn't a monetary price, what else did he have to give? As if hearing his thoughts, Yuuko arched an eyebrow and smirked, "There are many other things that you can give. What if I wanted your skills in tennis?"
"Take it."
The answer, so immediate and resolute, had the smirk on Yuuko's face turn into a genuine smile. Ootori just looked at the witch, not doubting that she could extract his skills if she wanted to. Not surprising, everything that had happened since entering this shop had seemed so oddly safe yet bizarre, and he wanted this forgiveness… this salvation badly before making any admission to his senpai…
"You are an honest boy, Ootori Choutarou." Amusement tinged her voice as she shook her head and muttered something under her breath before turning to face the silver-haired boy, "but I have no use for your tennis skills. Maru! Help Watanuki get that black leather case from the fourth shelf in the storeroom!"
The unfamiliar names had Ootori glancing around, and on seeing an older boy and the two young girls, he blushed, inwardly berating himself for appearing this weak in front of others. Silently, he prayed that they had not noticed the tinge of red on his cheeks while turning to face the lady in query.
"Play for me, Choutarou. I miss listening to the violin." Yuuko murmured before making her way back to the chaise lounge, sprawling bonelessly back into the soft velvet as the remaining girl handed a bottle of sake and a dish to her. By then, the bespectacled boy had brought back a violin case, and Ootori opened it, only to suck in his breath at the wonderful masterpiece of an instrument. To play this instrument as a price! He wanted to object, to protest that this was not a fair bargain to Yuuko, that it was as if he were taking advantage of her, yet the lady replied with closed eyes, "Play all the music that you are to perform tonight at His house and celebration. That will be price enough."
There was power in her words; a power that made Ootori nod his head in reluctant acquiescence while that older boy – Watanuki – stared at the tennis player strangely. This, Ootori was heedless of, for the violin seemed to call to him, and once bow touched string, time was lost in an endless whirl of melody that left all four other occupants of the room enthralled within. The music sang out to all of them; even though there was no accompaniment whatsoever, the notes, with all its emotion, rang deep within their hearts. On and on it went, until the last strains of 'Regina Coeli' faded off into silence, and Ootori smiled, a soft smile that contrasted starkly with the lost look he had previously on entry into the shop.
Carefully, he placed the ebony violin back into its case and returned it to Watanuki with a softly murmured 'thank you'. Then, turning to Yuuko, he bowed low.
"Arigatou gozaimasu."
The sincerity of his words made Yuuko smile, a gentle smile that had Watanuki gawking. Waving her hand, the witch shrugged, "Iya, it was a fair trade." Finally dismissing him and gesturing for Maru and Moro to bring him out, Yuuko's voice drifted along with the wind to where he was in a whisper, "Good luck with your confession."
A pale blush colored the boy's cheek once more, but he smiled nonetheless and whispered back, "Hontou ni arigatou…"
A few years later
"Mistress, you've got mail." Marudashi chimed, causing Yuuko to arch an eyebrow. Taking in the parcel that was in Morodashi's hands, she eyes it in amusement. It never ceased to amaze her everytime mail came to her home. After all, it wasn't everyday that the shop's mailbox could be found, heck, she could count the amount of times mail came via the mailbox with both her hands. Still, this sender had been special, hence it hadn't surprised her when he managed to send her mail, especially not when this was his third parcel to her.
Spelling the box open, she fished out a CD and tossed it over to Moro, beckoning the girl to play it whilst looking through the letter and its other contents. Gradually, the strains of a light, peaceful melody filtered into her hearing, and the black-haired witch smiled, reclining back on her divan as the smoke from her pipe toyed at the photographs that now lie haphazardly on the coffee table…
The two faces that dominated almost all of the photos might differ quite a little – one was often scowling while the other had a docile smile in place – yet the affection held in both pairs of eyes were more than evident. Beneath the photographs, the creamy parchment with what neat calligraphy that was unobscured by the photos spoke of a sincere, heartfelt gratitude.
…
Arigatou ne, Yuuko-san… We had another wonderful Easter night.
Yours,
Ootori Choutarou
p/s: Hope you like my new album. It's for you, Yuuko-san. A Butterfly's Gift of Salvation.
Finito
Hnn… I'm fairly tempted to write this story in the POV of Yuuko and xxxHolic instead. Perhaps I'll do this as a weekend project… But it'll be a tentative one though. .