2. Distance.
T: Nothing extra to add in this chapter, warnings are the same and it's not mine!
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It had become, somewhere along the line, a habit of his to take a step back from situations that he was uncertain of. The logic seemed to be that by keeping his distance he could assure that he never became too involved in a situation…could insure that he did not again lose his control over his destiny.
It was a detachment he had clung to as tightly as possible during the last weeks of the war, which had allowed him to watch the unfolding events in a disconnected, clinical, manner.
Yet when the Diet building had collapsed…when he had felt the incense fire of Kamui's life beginning to gutter out…
In that brief moment he'd lost control.
It was only when the doctor had asked his name that he had been able to reassert his authority…to gain, again, the distance that he craved.
He had known that the boy would find him, yet he had believed that he would have time enough to think the matter through, time enough to decide on the best course of action.
It was unfortunate that, by the time the boy did come again into his life, the nightmares had begun to plague his every waking moment and that he had thus been vulnerable enough to agree to accompany the other for a drink.
He had drunk enough that, when Kamui had asked about his current abode, it had seemed logical to show the apartment to the boy rather than to describe it.
After a quick tour of the building they'd sat together in the living room and gorged themselves upon ice-cream.
He'd been very aware of the heat of Kamui's eyes upon him and he'd allowed himself to be pulled in by it…had allowed his control to again slip from him.
He'd woken the next day feverishly hot and feeling naked both externally and internally, yet all it had taken was a glance and a word from the boy to linger a day more.
That extra day had turned into a week and that week had turned into a month, until he'd eventually spent a year in the boy's company.
At the conclusion of that year the boy had asked about his right eye and the final words that had been spoken to him amid the wreckage of the Rainbow Bridge.
No matter how enthralled he had become into the peace that the boy seemed to offer him, he'd had not want to talk of that hurt with the other…
…had had no want to free himself from the exquisite misery contained within those final words.
The fire of the boy's jealousy had been ignited by that silence and suddenly he'd been alone again.
He'd drunk until he'd been sick that night and then, his body coated in sweat and dried vomit, he'd stared up at the night sky and laughed for the shear foolishness of it all.
He'd drunk again the next weekend and the next, his alcoholic intake becoming less and less with each visit.
Eventually he'd stopped drinking all together and the nightmares had returned.
He did not know, however, dream of the bridge and that final soul destroying confession…
Instead he dreamt of a brief year of happiness and the years of torment that had followed…
Dreamt of the pattern repeating and of a pair of violet eyes that had been snuffed of their last spark of life…
He'd become so very desperate to escape that nightmare and the connotations it held that he had, despite the Tree's fervent protests, left the city.
In the relative quite of the countryside he'd found his centre and the emotional distance he had so desperately craved since he'd allowed himself to become furled into Kamui's life.
Again he discovered the cheep thrill of the kill, of acting out the part that had been left to him in trust by the only man he had, and ever would, love.
His soul tainted again with the crimson stain of blood he'd returned to Tokyo purged of the guilt that had driven him away…free of to 'live' his life again.
For seven years he'd grown into the role, had gained himself a name and had perfected the trick of smiling without meaning.
Then Kamui had come again into his life.
He'd stumbled upon the boy while he'd been stalking a target and, before he could stop himself, he'd asked the bartender about the other.
The elder man had turned to him with a spark of mischief in his eye and had opened his mouth to reply when something in his face had caught the other's attention.
He'd shook his head at that and, the spark fizzing out, he'd remarked,
"That one's not for fooling, he's got a darkness buried in him see, one he smothers with the drink and that vents itself in the most terrible manner.
"The lad's and I make a joke of sending the new blood to that one to teach 'em about the dangerous edge to this place…in fact I thought to do the same to you but I can see well that you've no need for the lesson."
"He's tough then?"
"The regulars are still telling the story of the last new blood that kept pressing himself on that boy."
"I see."
It'd come rushing back to him then, the guilt and the clawing desperation to escape…
…to be free the burden of his emotions forever.
He'd finished his drink, paid the bar tender a generous tip for his 'help' and then walked the distance to Ueno.
He shuts himself into the small pocket of tranquil space that the Tree keeps vacant for him and then forces his mind to calm down.
The first tendrils of dawn are breaking when he comes back to himself and, though his alarm will wake him again in just under an hour's time; he decides to go home to get some sleep.
Years of early starts had accustomed his ears to the beep of his old alarm and thus, to insure that he did not over sleep, he had invested in a radio alarm.
He wakes today to the haunting melody of a piano and a songstress whose honest voice was singing, in English, of a pair of individuals who, together, were struggling against the tide of life.
The words tap some hidden core and, subconsciously, he memories both the name of the songstress and the song itself.
He finds yesterday's target and, after a quick assessment of the risks, dispatches the other with the usual precision.
His afternoon thus freed he comes again into the Tree's domain and, taking advantage of the summer sun, he dozes for a little while.
He dreams of the one he loved, of the distance that had been kept always between them and of that terrible moment upon the Rainbow Bridge.
Dreams also of the year that he had spent in Kamui's company and of the peace he had felt at the other's side.
He'd stirred from his sleep determined to break the cycle before Kamui also became inescapably involved...before the Shirou became burdened with the role of Sakurazukamori.
Thus, though he desired still to simply be free the complications of his emotions, he decided to return to the pub on Sunday and to talk to Kamui of beginning their friendship anew…
…of fighting the ghosts of their past together rather than alone.
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T: Am toying with the idea of writing another chapter for this and if I do I'll post it at some point next week…otherwise thank you for taking the time to read this and R+R!