Disclaimer: We don't own Peacemaker. Peacemaker owns us.

CHAPTER TWO

--15 years earlier--

Trudging through a narrow alley way, a little boy struggles to keep up with the firefly spiralling ahead of him. There is an aura about him considered strange in these parts of the city. It is not his diminutive stature but the innocence displayed on his features. For this is a place known for its moral pollution.

Shady looking men on street corners leer at the young boy as he moves past, but sensing who is at his side, they leave him alone. He sees darkness in their eyes, at an age where he is still too young to understand what corruption and desperation mean.

The world he is destined or damned for is one where questions go unanswered and answers go unquestioned.

He is oblivious to what awaits him, for now like any other child he is intrigued by the simplest of things- shattered clay littering the pathway…He glances at the empty night sky and wonders why all the stars have fallen. He does not know that in a few days he'll become used to the sight, he will find it fitting. But for now the remnants of sake bottles are fragments of fallen stars, in his eyes.

Perhaps they are, and people tend not to see things through a child's point of view.

The firefly's light flickers impatiently, and remembering his grandfather's stern order, he quickens his pace. He follows the firefly into a narrow lane of cherry blossom trees, where petals aimlessly shower the ground. The little boy tries to avoid the petals, but fails to. He runs from the overpowering scent and catches up to the firefly.

He is laughing now.

The firefly, in fact, is a rusted lantern held by a man as elusive as his shadow, but this does not stop the boy from imagining.

His giggles are as insignificant as the wind carrying it, perhaps it wouldn't have seemed so to the shadow, if he knew that it is the first time in quite a while the boy has heard his own laughter.

He stops uncertainly and peers upwards at the magnificent building he has come to, not intimidated by the display of wealth, but more of the laughter and noise coming from within. The doors are flung open and garish music comes bursting out, as well as two drunk men, leaning on each other for support. The doors are closed and the men collapse on the floor reeking of alcohol, now unconscious…

The boy is lead gently by the shadow, who finally feels a tinge of pity for his fate.

At the back of the compound, the rusted lantern glowing by his side, the boy is left alone.

In his confusion, he begins to tremble and forgets that the light was ever a firefly, for now unlike any other child he is going to be exposed to the side of life he could have never been prepared for. The lantern begins to dim, the darkness and music overcome him, with the golden glow fading into nothingness - just like the firefly it was imagined to be.

He doesn't notice the darkness. He shuts his eyes tightly against the outside world, as though he can just will it away. As though it is that simple.

-------

Ain't it funny how we pretend we're still a child

Softly stolen under our blanket skies

And rescue me from me, and all that I believe

I won't deny the pain

I won't deny the change

And should I fall from grace…

Will you leave me too?

Too late to turn to turn back now

I'm running out of sound…

And I'm changing, changing…

Ain't it funny how we pretend we're still a child

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"Damn. I'm still here."

Lying with his back pressed against the rugged furrows of a broad tree trunk, Kichisaburo groggily opened his eyes to the blinding light of the sun, and realised the events of the past two days had not been part of his dream. He rubbed his face and yawned loudly, before realising in great dismay, that his hands were still stained with dirt.

The previous night he had attempted to drink water from a half dry stream, which ended up with him slipping and falling in the mud. At least he hoped it was mud…He glanced down at his yukata and frowned, it was still caked with the muck. He looked absolutely filthy. Sighing, he leaned further back against the tree, too frustrated to start moving right away.

Fingering the singed hems of his clothing, he closed his eyes once more at an attempt to recall the dream that he had.

It had been so long since he had last dreamed. It wasn't as though he had time to, though the lack of it was something he welcomed gladly. The dreams he had for two years after the shattering, were recurring nightmares that strangled him in his sleep, choked him till he woke up screaming.

He never cried, and he knew the old man in particular, had wished he would. But screaming was better. With screaming, you could turn your fear into rage. You could feed your hate. Give it energy. And it would sustain you through another day.

Kichisaburo put a hand to his aching head. He could vaguely remember a wavering light, drunken voices, and amongst other things, a black, empty sky.

As it gradually pieced together in his mind, and the pictures became clearer, his body stiffened slightly. Why? Why am I dreaming of my past? It's been so many years since that day...

A grumble from his stomach interrupted his thoughts and sighing, he let his eyes wander over to the dirt road. I'm not going to think about any of it. I left it behind, it's over. There are more important things to think about.

He still needed to get to a village, he needed food and clean water…And staring down at his bruised feet, some sandals at the very least. If only I still had my sword, and there was someone around, he thought wistfully as he struggled to get up. Then I could kill them and steal their money and food.

A sadistic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as he considered this rather refreshing thought. He wasn't worried about providing for himself after all. Even without his sword, there were other ways of getting money. After all, once his basic necessities were fulfilled, he had to purchase a sword again, he didn't care what the cost would be.

He couldn't imagine going without killing for too long.

Kichisaburo raked a hand through his matted locks, squinting at the unchanging road before him, and sighing irritably, started walking.

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In a place not so far from Kyoto, an old man waited, taking long drags on his pipe as he did so. He seemed like any other bald and senile man, wistfully remembering the 'old days', but he wasn't referring only to himself. His gaze was nostalgiac, piercing through a fog of smoke as he gave his whereabouts a look over.

The moss and lichen covering the walls of the compound seemed to almost sweat, under the heat. The path to the entrance was adorned in cracks, as intricate as a piece of mosaic. Weeds choked flowerbeds, in the once green gardens.

Overhead the towering archway seemed to stand in defeat, its once splendid coat of red had peeled away to reveal a horde of busy termites. Even the few remaining cherry blossom trees had lost their beauty, their trunks withered and their branches swaying lifelessly.

The aged man did not react to the decay before him; there was no shaking of the head, no expression of disgust. For he was not living in this reality, but a reality made entirely of fading memories, as most old people do. He shook his head slightly, no one now would imagine or even believe this ghost of a place to have once been home to creatures of the night, so damned in their beauty that people said even hell itself spat them out.

No one would listen if he spoke of courtesans that evoked jealously even amongst the geishas of Gion, or of kabuki actors that outshined even the night stars. But that was all once upon a time… a voice added in his head. His shoulders slumped, and he looked down at his outstretched palms wonderingly, like the night when everything had been destroyed.

He had known it was all over for him when he had seen her mutilated body laid out before him. And the child...

They said he had played a role in it. And perhaps he had. He had let himself keep a heart within a trade that had no place for hearts. So he was guilty of caring for those kids. They were already exposed to enough ugliness, he figured they didn't need more of it from him. He remembered the others hissing at him, 'They're lucky they have this much.'

And it was true, he had rescued many of them from lives that would have been far worse out on the streets. At least with him, they had food, clean clothes, a roof over their heads, and considerable safety.

Considerable...The old man let out a slow sigh.

He was no longer Ichirawa Chubei, creator of the closest thing a man could get to paradise, at least, pleasure wise. He was now known not even by his name, but as the man who created the closest thing you can get to hell. And there was once a time when I was asked to every play in Kyoto…Another bitter sigh came from within him.

Now society looked at this district with a certain apprehensiveness that would probably never wane. As though they sensed that buried underneath the years that had passed, there was the story of how even the most sparkling of diamonds can be cruelly stripped of their lustre.

But what might seem to be an insignificant life to some can be one of most importance to another. Sometimes what seems the most worthless of lives, have had some worth if they have touched another's heart. Even if it is only one. But no one cared then and now about what goes on behind closed curtains...

Chubei sighed yet again as he filled his pipe with tobacco, whilst holding back a fit of coughs. Stroking his beard, he mused over the news that had reached him about one of his best boys, and the details of his demise. He had never been one to blame himself for anything that happened beyond the doors of his pleasure house.

But over the years there had only been one person that he had felt secret guilt over, apart from her. And that was Kichisaburo.

I am not a fool though.

Chubei had known the young lad long enough to realise that he wouldn't leave the world in such a futile way.

I hope the stars shine for you on the darkest of nights…He had lost faith in just about everything before he had even lost his hair. But he still had some small amount left for that eccentric kid with traits that amused him to no end.

Even after all that had happened, Chubei still waited at the entrance --- for what, not even he knew --- comforted by reminders of what had once been a fairy tale, despite the unhappy ending.