Insomnia
By The Eternity Dragon
Disclaimer: …..o..0;
Chapter Two
Holding Smoke
Authors note 1: (: Thank you for the very warm replies and appreciation that this fic has got so far, I had no idea anyone would like this story at all…actually I felt the other chapter was rather short-but I guess it served as an good introduction. Herm, I will apologise in advance for this chapter…what can I say, I had pressure on me from exam results and then a rush of reading Fruits Basket manga 6-11. :laughs: yesssss, well as odd as that may seem it has a rather peculiar effect on me- I was actually starting to feel physically sick with tension…I guess I must really enjoy reading it. Reason number two is that I have been going through a sort of block-I attempted this chapter about six times from different angles and nothing worked so I tried this one….does it make any sense? It's supposed too, but I don't know, I think It raises more questions then it answers, and I don't think it's very good, but it's longer then the other chapter…gah- so I apologise again for the mess, and thank you for reading okay, 'hold your nose 'cause here comes the cold water'. (: I love that quote.
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It seemed like it had been raining for hours, drops upon endless drops fell from the cloud ridden sky. The rain was heavy, tumbling in fat clear, warm droplets to the earth beneath it. Running in tributaries down into the gutter, swishing and swirling at the grate, until it vanished in a cloud of white foaming froth into the recesses of a dark carnivorous hollow.
Droplets of water slid down the tiled roof of the dojo, down the outside walls and spooling onto the cool pane of the windows and trickling lethargically down the ledge. The air was still and horribly humid, breathing it in made you feel as though you were slowly drowning in lukewarm water, sticking to the insides of your mouth throat and tongue, gagging you, causing you to suck in more, leaving you gasping for cooler fresher air that was no where to be found.
He had been standing there for hours, his clothes soaked through, his dark blue hair sticking to the sides of his face, and his indigo eyes sparkling with a passionate determination as he launched the blade over and over and over again. His lips were tightly compressed, his expression grim, hands straight out before his face in the launch position, his arms were shaking slightly from the strain as he launched time after time, after time. The blade spun for a moment in the air, in perfect rotation as it fell in an arch towards the ground that came rushing up to meet it. Landing in the mud, spiralling for a moment in the glutinous soil, before spinning out of control and jolting to a sharp stop by his feet.
Tyson stooped down, inserting the blade back into the launch gear and straightened up, his face totally inexpressive, only his sparkling eyes gave away some of the bitterness he was feeling with every launch, some dark hardness that had settled in the depths iris, beneath the thick lashes that were clumping wetly together due to the pouring rain.
Every time he launched, the blade did exactly the same thing, once in touched the ground it span out of control, its gears making a "Grrrlanck!" sound that gradually faded away into the mud as it whirled to a staggering halt. Slowly, the ground gave way; a scar began to form beneath Tyson's feet, thin, curved in shape and hollow, the imprints from the attack disc embedding themselves in the wet soil every time the blade went down.
It was horrible to watch, the continual pattern of launch, spin, fall, stop, collect and repeat. Each time the look on the champions face was exactly the same, a sort of detached pain and bitterness as he bent down into the mud, his hand fumbling for the blade, his fingers numb and bleeding from the chapping of the hard metal. The skin of his hands rubbed red raw beneath the blue gloves, as the fabric bit once again into the flesh of his palms as he began to reset the launch again.
Daichi sat on the stoop, his head in his hands, subdued and dismal, watching his friend with a sort of horrified curiosity as the blade was discharged in an endless monotony of repetition that seemed to never end. Each time his eyes followed the familiar curve, the spin, the shudder, the grind and the halt, and he watched as Tyson bent down again to scoop the blade up again, his visage unreadable, and his eyes like that of a wild animals, glittering savagely and in pain.
He wanted to shout out "Stop Tyson, that's enough, you don't have to do it anymore, it's enough." But he couldn't his tongue stuck to the dryness of his mouth as he gazed helpless at the droplets of rain clinging to the rim of his friends red baseball cap, and wished, pleaded, begged with some unseen, unspoken thing that Tyson would just give up.
"Make him stop," he thought, the rain plunging heavily now onto the roof of the dojo, the beads of moisture bouncing up again in a frantic dance of aggression. Somewhere over head there was a lash of lightening and then a deep rumbling of thunder that sent vibrations trembling through the soggy earth, and for the first time Daichi felt afraid-afraid of the rain and the thunder, afraid of the stifling humidity, afraid of the way the blade juddered to a complete stop in the thick gelatinous mud, but most of all afraid for Tyson. His limbs began to shake, his heart pounding fast and delirious in his ears as he pulled his knees tighter to his chest as the realisation flooded through him.
He couldn't-Tyson couldn't- he wasn't able to- he couldn't-he could no longer-….
"Stop!"
The yell came from the doorway, Daichi felt himself jump, as he turned to look, seeing a tall man in the dark jacket, with dark blue hair and dark cobalt eyes.
Tyson, soaked through to the bone became dimly aware of the prescience standing in the doorway to the dojo, his vision blurred, the outlines of objects incomprehensible and fuzzy. He registered the soft clamminess of the mud caked to the tips of his fingers, the sodden fabric of his clothes, and cold warmth of the rain that glided across the numb skin of his face, trickling onto his lips, lingering in the recesses of his mouth before running off the base of his chin.
His mind span; and he heard the dull clunk of the blade coming to another endless halt in the mud beneath his feet, faintly he registered his knees buckling beneath him, his fingers loosing their grip and the launcher tumbling from his frozen hands.
"I can't-" he said his voice hoarse, "I can't hear him anymore."
His vision became clouded, darkness pressed against his eyes and his legs gave way as he fell, face forward into the mud, his mind slipping into disjointed memories and thoughts, as his brother came rushing forwards. Noise became bubbles that burst and stilled into silence, and reality slowly slipped into nothingness, drowned in the mud that was closing in from all sides. Gradually suffocating him.
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"Can you hear me?" thin membrane of consciousness seemed to thin, waver and then break into thousands of tiny pieces shattering in all directions. The sound entered Tyson's mind and hung there as he opened his eyes, and stared up blankly at the cracked paintwork of his bedroom ceiling. He turned his head, and saw his brother, Hiro sitting by the bed, dressed in an open shirt and jeans, his hair tousled and damp from the rain, another pair of deep blue eyes staring into his own.
"Yes," he answered; his voice quiet, even speaking was becoming a delirious effort that seemed to resonate inside his head.
Hiro leant back in his chair, a dead weight lifting from his chest, and he put both hands on his forehead, thanking a nameless faceless thing for grace and mercy.
When the call had come in from his grandfather that same morning, anxiety had run rampant in his mind, it had been one of the only times in his life he had actually heard fear in the old man's voice.
"I can't get him to stop," he had said, his voice shaking slightly down the phone line, "he's been out there for hours, he's rubbing his hands raw, he won't stop launching the spinning top and the only thing it's doing is stopping. I need you to come and persuade him to lay off!" The message had been relayed over a bad signal, and his grandfathers voice had crackled slightly down the line, becoming distorted from it's original tone and form. But Hiro would have been able to discern the discomfort and unease in the message a mile off.
Tyson had always been so positive when he was younger, so optimistic, and now- the carefree, blithe smile he had been so used to seeing in the heart shaped visage of his brother's face had all but disappeared. The dominant expression he saw now was one of distrust, rejection and even pain, and when he looked at it, he felt like some part of him, the part of him that wanted to hold him close and protect him from the world seemed to die within himself. Somehow, his brother, his little brother had become unreachable, slowly withdrawing into a tightly closed shell. There were days still when Tyson would smile the blithe smile again, would laugh, and be the Tyson of three years ago like nothing had ever changed or happened, but it only rarely now.
The youth on the bed sat upright, propped up on his elbows, his eyes wide as he took in Hiro's bedraggled appearance, and leant forward gently brushing the hair from his brother's eyes, his mouth turned up in the corners in a slight smile.
"Why are you here?" the question lingered for a moment, silence flowed between both of them, and they simultaneously listened to the patter and drip of the rain on the roof of the dojo, and heard as it sluiced down the drainpipes and gurgled into the sloshing water of the gutter. Somewhere, the thunder still rippled through the sky, and the ground quivered as another flash of lightening lit up the sky, casting its eerie light over the earth.
Hiro caught Tyson's hand in his own and held it, the chillness of the flesh seeping through the warmth of his own fingers. Discerned the beginning of a smile on his own lips as he realised that both if their hands were now exactly the same size- where had the little brother gone?
"Don't you know?" he replied, his fingers tracing the permeating lines in Tyson's hand, gliding lightly over the chapped, raw skin.
There was a pause, the arm became rigid and the hand clenched, "I don't need another lecture." His voice wasn't cold or even angry, just firm; there was a stiffness about the tone that told Hiro of all the defences that had been built around this one issue.
"I don't want to give you a lecture." He too must keep his voice calm or wage war against the onslaught of anger and aggression that was pent up behind his brother's deep glittering blue eyes.
Tyson looked at the tender tissue of his palm the skin was red raw and irritated, a deep painful throbbing was steadily spreading its way up his wrist and into his brain, pulsing behind his ears and beating about his temple.
In truth he felt alone, totally utterly alone, even with Hiro sitting across from him, holding his hand like he used to when they were little, he found it difficult, impossible to talk-to open his mouth and just say what he thinking. All the things he felt spiralled hopelessly in his mind, a tower of impossibility that threatened to crash over him at any given moment.
"What do you want then?" he was tired, physically and mentally, he wanted to lie down and just sleep in blessed oblivion, but he wasn't able to sleep-he couldn't sleep- when had he last slept?
Hiro paused, he wanted to ask Tyson why he had been standing out there in the pouring rain, he wanted to know why he hadn't come in after they had called him and called him. He wanted to know why Daichi was downstairs with tears in his eyes saying 'I didn't mean it." Over and over again. He wanted to know why he had run off, why he had stayed out all night. But even as he felt these questions bubble over his tongue he knew Tyson would answer them, and he felt helpless in a tide of emotions that were half hidden by obscurity.
Tyson tried to withdraw his hand, but Hiro's grip tightened as he wrenched it down, forcing his brother to look him in the eyes, his actions assured and unhurried,
'You're going to tell me the truth,' his eyes spoke softly, 'the whole truth.'
His little brother looked at him, his face at first impassive, his own deep blue eyes unfathomable, and the beginnings of a smile tugged suggestively at the corners. He felt the mud on his face and the dampness of his hair and the warmth of the room around them, and the gentle patter of the rain on the roof. For the first time in what seemed like a limitless sea of eternity Hiro moved forwards pulling them both into a bone crushing hug. There was the feeling of being three years old again, protected and loved along with that total security. The tightly wound feeling in Tyson's chest gently began to unravel, and an urge to cry bitterly at the nothingness that had enveloped him.
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"I couldn't feel it," Tyson was saying, his legs over the side of the bed as he stretched his arms high in the air in an exhausted yawn.
"When I tried to call Dragoon forth I felt nothing- just emptiness- no matter how many times I cried out his name nothing happened."
Hiro ran the towel through his hair once again, frowning thoughtfully as he sat in the middle of his brother's floor, his shirt hanging on the radiator, his chest bare, lean and muscular in the dim light.
"Perhaps emotionally you're too charged at the moment." he responded after some consideration, pulling the towel from his head, his hair tumbling into his eyes,
"Your mind is too clouded for you to blade properly, don't worry, it happens to everyone at some point in time. It happened to quite a few of the people I used to coach, but I wouldn't worry too much about it, they all recovered after a while. It's just a matter of time and getting to grip with whatever it is that's bugging you right now."
Tyson snorted derisively, the idea of confronting Kai seemed in his minds eye to be a ludicrous idea, like grabbing at smoke, it just drifted away from you no matter what you did to try and stop it from escaping.
"I always used to blade with my emotions," he said sighing, getting up from the bed and going to sit on the sill, pulling one knee to his chest as he let the other lie across the sill adjacent to him.
"But now, recently, I have too much to channel into…anything I do. I'm like a time bomb, with every passing moment the hand falls I become more and more charged. I hate it!" he snarled the last part vehemently, his hands digging into soft flesh of his knees.
"Daichi's right I can't blade anymore, I can't do anything- I feel so….hopeless."
"Stop being an ass Tyson," Hiro responded tersely as his brother looked at him in some surprise, his blue eyes wide, "you know perfectly well you're one of the best bladers out there. Recently you've just been a little off your game, it's nothing to get upset about." He paused here, regarding the blue haired youth for sometime, watching his expression carefully as the lips twisted into something of a genuine smile, the eyes went through a series of painful emotions before finally settling on affection, and the face, with its stubborn jaw tilted gently back.
"You think so?"
"I know so."
They both grinned at this predictable answer, Tyson tapped the sill beneath him with his long fingers, and listened to the gentle drumming of his digits against the white enamelled wood.
"What should I do then?"
There was another pause, and Hiro stood up to retrieve his shirt from the radiator, his expression pensive, as he slipped the white linen over his toned torso.
"I think you should try Blitz blading."
Tyson frowned, he remembered Kenny saying something about this last week, something about a promotional show being hosted by the BBA, he was a bit vague on the details, he had been eating at the time.
"Why?"
Hiro shrugged in a nonchalant movement, throwing the towel over his shoulder and motioning to his brother to go downstairs with him.
"I think it would do you some good to try something new, that's all."
Tyson bit his lip, Hiro had a point, blading tended to remind him of Kai- the feeling he used to experience whenever he was near him, that powerful rush of adrenaline and the irrepressible happiness of just existing.
Perhaps, if he forgot blading, he could forget Kai too. It was a dismal thought with logic engrained into its bleak roots. Was he really trying to hold onto smoke? Was this silence in his heart trying to tell him to stop trying, to stop remembering, to finally let go of something that he wasn't sure even existed. Maybe if he let go, the sleeplessness would also disappear.
He nodded, his brother smiled at him and ruffled his hair, they were the same height now, same build, same face shape, but Hiro always appeared older then Tyson some way, a slight give in his expression perhaps, a deeper look of someone who has seen and experienced countless things.
He followed Hiro downstairs and found his grandfather sitting with Hillary, Kenny, Daichi and…Max at the kitchen table. Daichi, his face puffy and tearstained, jumped off the stool, a blur of red as he hurtled towards Tyson, barrelling him over as he yelled at the top of his voice, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean it!"
Pinned down by the dead weight on top of him, lying somewhere on the vicinity of the kitchen floor Tyson felt himself laugh, not bitterly or sardonically, a laugh that came from the depths of his abdomen in sudden blissful realisation that he didn't need to be alone anymore.
Daichi looked at him as Tyson laughed with one arm over his eyes, Max stood up from the table his cerulean blue eyes open wide,
"Tyson?" he said, looking at Kenny and Hillary in disbelief.
Hiro leant against the door, his eyes half closed in a smile as he tossed to towel into the laundry pile.
"It's all right," Tyson said, still laughing at the incredulous look in Daichi's gooseberry green eyes, "Do you think I can get up now?"
The little red head got off him slowly and warily, and the champion felt all the eyes in the room fall upon him.
"Max," he said, "when did you get here?"
The blonde haired youth blinked in surprise, "Me?" he asked, staring at his friend in disbelief, "I just got here, they-" he pointed vaguely to grandpa, Hillary, Daichi and Kenny who were all looking very white.
"They said you had collapsed."
Tyson shrugged, "You mean you did?" Max asked, his cornflower blue eyes wide in astonishment, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," came the slow thoughtful answer back, his deep blue eyes on the panelled wooden floor boards, his heart a dead weight pounding painfully in his chest.
"I've decided to forget."
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"Kai," Tala asked sternly, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him around so he could directly into his friends eyes, "are you alright with this?"
His companion narrowed his lavender eyes, his mouth twisting down into a grimace, "Of course I'm not alright with this." he hissed softly, his voice low and threatening, "But I don't really have I choice in the matter do I?"
"Well it was either this or Volitare."
Kai's eyes scintillated anger at the mention of his grandfather, and his mouth became a thin line, "I guess I chose the lesser of two evils then."
Tala licked his lips, his gaze unwavering as he looked directly into the lavender irises, "Of course we wouldn't have to be here if you hadn't have been so set on lying to me about this…this condition!"
"I told you I'm fine!"
"But you lied to me! You lied about all of this, if we had just come here in the first place, then none of-none of that nonsense would have happened!"
Kai visibly stiffened, and Tala wished he could have forced the words back into his mouth as they stood by the road cars rushing past them, the low rumbling motors vibrating through the tarmaced surface beneath their feet. "I don't want to talk about it now," Kai said in icy detached tones, his slanted lavender eyes giving his expression a curiously amorous quality as he looked straight ahead. The stippled light glancing off his smooth complexion and lingering for a moment on the generous curve of his lips, "I told you, I would never come back here." His voice was low and dangerous as he turned his head away from Tala, moving his hands into the pockets of his black cargos.
"I made a promise that I would never go back to Japan-after…" he paused and Tala becoming uncomfortable with the look on his face, felt guilt writhe uncontrollably in his stomach.
"Let's just get this over with then." Tala finished, gripping Kai by the base of the arm, his grasp firm and reassuring, "Just don't lie to me again."
The lavender eyed youth turned slowly away and wondered why it was recently that his heart had become so very heavy.
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Neh- and?
Murray: If sense was to give anyone a recommendation, it would never in a million years be you.
Me:cries: I knew you'd say something like that!
Murray: I speak nothing but the truth-you need to sleep at night, stop thinking about senseless ideas with no plot!
Me:snivel: but I doooo want a plot here somewhere, there is one!
Murray: Can't see one.
Me: That's because you have no eyes, you can't see.
Murray: I can to!
Me: Can not!
Murray: Can!
Me: Okay how then?
Murray: How can you walk around without a brain, something's no one can answer.
Me:….I don't get that…
Murray: Exactly!
Oh, Anyho- feel free to review- mess or not a mess I can't decide, I'm tired and confused over Fruits Basket and I want to eat a red bean bun…hungry…writing has gone down the plughole or what?
:goes off to bed:
