My Vietnam
18 August 2014
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This is a FFVII fic by klepto_maniac0. I own no concepts and no characters except the ones you've never heard of, which means they're ones I've made. I freely admit I will take liberties with the FFVII canon because this is an alternate universe fic (in case you haven't figured that out already.) That's why some details are different, some events are ignored, and some people don't exist or act in a different capacity. Ain't fanfic fun?
"My Vietnam" (henceforth shortened to MYV) is a continuation of "Put Your Lights On" (PYLO), but it is not necessary to have read PYLO before reading this story. Whenever PYLO-specific events are referenced, the pertinent chapter will be indexed in the author's note.
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She said I wasn't good enough
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The sweet potato had a big burn on it, but Seishi bit off the blackened bit and spit it to the side. "Here," she said to her baby sister. "It's good now."
Shicho took a bite. It was a very serious bite but Seishi couldn't help but smile. Even as thin and dirty as she was, Shicho was still the cutest thing in her life, the only truly bright spot.
They took turns taking bites of the sweet potato. It was spring and nice enough to eat down by the river, under a bridge where Mama and Papa wouldn't find them. Mama wasn't so bad, but Papa would get mad at them for not begging and threaten to sell them to the pimps if he caught them. Seishi knew he was serious, but didn't plan on letting him do it. If Papa tried to sell her—or worse, Shicho—she would kill him.
"It's done, my lady," said Nanashi. Seishi smiled and wrapped her hands around her dragon-headed cane, gripping so hard that her fingers ached.
"Did he suffer?"
"I would say so," said Nanashi dryly. "I dragged him up to Da Chao, broke his arms and legs, and covered him with chocobo blood. The monsters were moving in when I left him, and I heard him screaming halfway down the mountain. Then he stopped, rather abruptly."
"Good gods," said Seishi with a throaty purr of pleasure. "That was better than anything I could have imagined."
"I hate honorless men," said Nanashi with narrowed eyes. Then with a little smile, she added, "Honestly, my lady, it was a pleasure."
Seishi looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. If she was being truly honest with herself, she really was the most beautiful maiko in the current generation, small foxlike eyes notwithstanding. She practiced opening her eyes to a doelike innocence before bursting into laughter. Let her peers play the ingenue. Seishi knew that she was born to be the coquette, with her sharp-angled face and bright, saucy eyes. There were already men lining up to be her danna, the foremost of which was Lord Shusaku no Kanten. He was less than ideal from a physical standpoint, but he was rich, wholly infatuated, and rather influential at court, which meant Seishi would go to royal parties. And from there, who knew? Maybe she would attract a first-tier noble, if not Prince Godo himself.
"The Lord is doing what he must," said Seishi to Suzu. The geisha was less than pleased with Lord Godo, but a lot of traditionalists were. "You know I don't approve of his direction either, but it doesn't do us any good to insult his course of action."
"This isn't Midgar," said Suzu, shaking her head. "We're allowed to criticize our leaders here, or at least our figurehead leaders."
"Have a care with what you say about our Lord," said Seishi. "Especially considering that without his grant, we would not be in business the way we are."
"Catering to foreigners and ignorant peasants," Suzu all but spat. "You may have a certain standard, my lady, but this physically pains me."
"You have a rather high tolerance for pain, don't you?"
Seishi stayed quiet. Fellow captives had told her never to meet the Demon's eyes, but Seishi resisted their advice. She held tight to her soul and looked him full in the face, meeting his burning emerald gaze as he studied her from the doorway. He'd risen a rank or two; this was his private room. Definitely a step up from the shed in his eyes, though to Seishi it was all the same.
"A lot of the men say that you people don't actually feel pain," he said, stepping toward her. His boot heels should have hit hard on the wooden floor, but she only heard the creak of the floorboards. She continued to stare at him, which made him glare. He was so young to be so cruel. The part of her that cracked weak minds like walnuts made her wonder what had broken him so badly, and if she could hurt him before he could hurt her.
"They lie, of course," he said. "The men. And the women too. We all know very well that you feel pain, but you... You don't ever scream, do you?"
Screaming was something one did to draw a rescuer to you. There weren't any in this place. Screaming was also empowering, but there was nothing to salvage from this situation. And finally, screaming gave the Demon satisfaction, and if there was one thing Seishi had left in all this, it was her vindictiveness. Not pride, just the sheer perverse drive to never give anybody what they wanted.
"You don't have to be ashamed," he said, coming up to her. The Demon insisted that all his women be clean and Seishi's skin still steamed faintly in the climate-controlled air. She wore no clothes; what was the point? Her eyes flicked to the side as he picked up a lock of her hair and studied it. "Everybody screams sometime. It's a natural reaction."
He tore her hair out. Seishi froze, forcing her entire body to lock as he ripped an inch-wide section of her hair off her scalp as easily as pulling a ribbon. His cat-like pupils dilated, then went back to normal size as she exhaled and continued to look at him. She could feel the blood running down the side of her head, her scalp throbbing with agony.
"I've had worse," she told herself sternly. "And I'll live through losing hair."
"You're not impressing anyone," he said, twining the bloody lock around his fingers. "Least of all me."
"Then why am I back here again?" asked Seishi evenly. "Are you that fond of me?"
"Fond of trash? Please," he said with a sneer. "All I see is a whore in every sense of the word. And you're very good at what you do. I'll give you that much."
He was very broken, but not so much that he could look her in the eyes when he did what he wanted. Seishi fought to breathe as he held her head in the pillow, but the struggle to live didn't distract from what was going on. It was hard to ignore. Like everything else he did, the campaign he wreaked on her body was one of pure power and terror, but Seishi was not an army. She was not a warrior either, with brittle pride instead of a backbone. She was herself. And she knew how to make the Demon actually lose control, even if it killed her. Her death would be quite the punctuation mark of his breakdown.
He eased his grip on her head when he shuddered to halt, and Seishi waited a few moments until his breathing had become relaxed. Then she swallowed, licked her lips, and said,
"I don't scream because I'm not weak like you."
He stood up abruptly and flipped her over. She landed half on and half off the bed, the scab on her head breaking open as she banged her head on the wall. As Seishi turned to see what the Demon was doing, he took off his long coat and mail shirt and threw them on the floor. His eyes were flashing with miniature lightning and though his face looked calm, Seishi could feel madness radiating from him. She couldn't stop herself from gasping as he reached into his desk and pulled out a knife.
"Let's see if you live," he said in a flat voice. "And tell me, if you survive, how I'm weak again."
"My love, wake up."
The Demon stepped toward her, his free hand reaching for her hair again. Seishi tried to shrink into the corner, her vision collapsing to the point of the blade coming for her.
"Wake up."
He grabbed her hair and forced her onto her back. Seishi struck at his face with jagged nails, but he didn't even flinch. And she saw the wounds close before her eyes, before he lowered his knife to her right eyeball.
"Seishi, wake up."
A blinding shock of pain reverberated through her head, making her eyes—both eyes—snap open. It was dark. The air was warm, not cold. Dimly Seishi realized she wasn't where she thought she was, but didn't feel herself in this other place yet. Someone was touching her hair and speaking softly. It was her husband, kneeling at the edge of the bed and brushing her gently with his knuckles. They knew from past experience that if he tried to embrace her or touch her with the front of his hand, she would start screaming.
"You're safe," he said softly. "You're not there anymore. You're here with me. I'm turning on the light."
The light always helped. Seishi let a breath heavy with fear rattle from her lips as Godo lit the oil lamp and filled the room with a warm, living glow. No harsh fluorescents. No burning green light. She took a deep and shuddering breath, fighting to exhale as it caught in her throat. She concentrated on breathing until the nightmare disappeared and the bedroom she'd been sleeping in for the past twelve years finally came into focus.
"I'm sorry," she said when she could speak again. Turning stiffly (her entire body always locked up with the nightmares), she said, "It's been such a long time. I can't imagine why I'd have one tonight."
Godo chuckled. He was very fit for fifty, with graying hair that was dignified and still full, and despite all the delicacies available to him, he had not put on any fat. In fact, he was even more handsome than the first time they'd met, he as a prince and she as a maiko. Oh, he had been such a gentleman, almost as good at entertaining as Seishi had been, and though he had a bit of a horse laugh and a lot of mischief in him, he was still a true prince. Seishi once again sent a prayer of thanks to Da Chao that this particular dream had come true.
"My love, you have nightmares when you're happy," he said.
"That makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense," he said, climbing back onto the bed with her. The royal bed was raised, though not as ridiculously tall as a Continental bed; they had enough room that they didn't need to fold the futons up every morning. "You're not used to being happy. Your subconscious suspects a trap."
"I suppose," she said grudgingly. "Still, it seems a bad omen on the eve of Tori-chan's wedding."
"I don't see how, unless he managed to come back from the dead," said Godo dryly. Seishi laughed despite the lingering traces of fear. Godo would know better than anyone about the Demon's death, having stabbed him through the heart in decisive single combat. Just the memory of the despair in that silver-haired bastard's dying eyes sent warmth through her veins.
"Everything will be fine," said Godo, gathering Seishi in his arms. She breathed deeply of his scent; vaguely musky, he smelled of his favorite hempseed soap and the camellia oil he used to polish his weaponry. A wave of pure relaxation rolled over her, nearly putting her to sleep. "Our daughter is going to have a wonderful wedding to a man she loves, and if he hurts her, I'll behead him."
"You say the sweetest things," Seishi murmured.
Secure in the arms of her one true love, Seishi woke up the next day with only the mildest of unease. Her right eye was itching like crazy, but pressing a cold cloth to her face relieved it. It was going to be a very long day, so Seishi ate poached quail eggs and sturgeon roe while the dressers did her hair and makeup. As the mother of the bride, her kimono would display the full magnificence available to a married woman; meanwhile Yuffie would be wearing the height of fashion for a single girl. And Toriko...
The Kisaragi shiromuku was a national treasure, snow white and in perfect condition despite being over a hundred years old. Seishi had worn it herself when she'd married Godo and she remembered the weight of the lavishly embroidered silk, the exquisite fan of the padded train. It would not be as long on Toriko since she was tall, but still long enough to inspire the dreams of every girl with an eye for such things. Toriko was wearing a tsunokakushi instead of the traditional hood to show off the Kisaragi kanzashi, which were made of pure gold and studded with chips of materia instead of gems. And her uchikake, which would be revealed at the reception, was a dream in scarlet ombre shading to black at the bottom, covered with embroidered flowers from every season. Oh, it was a fine garment that had taken two whole years to make, but in that time Toriko's arranged marriage to Lord Staniv had turned from miai to ren'ai, and that was all Seishi had ever hoped for. Marrying for love and money was infinitely better than money alone.
Seishi's right leg nearly gave out on her as she walked to the palanquin that would take them to the shrine, but it had been years since she'd worn such a heavy (though admittedly gorgeous) susohiki. As she settled herself in the carriage, a courtier came to her and gave her a message from Godo. She thanked him and read it on the way to Leviathan's Pagoda.
My dear wife,
How nostalgic this seems! I'm sweltering in my robes, but I saw a glimpse of you as you entered your palanquin and I felt quite cold—nervous, as though we two were the ones being married! I'm confident that Toriko's marriage will be wonderful, but I think ours will always be the best. Definitely to me.
Love,
Godo
The ceremony before Leviathan was suitably somber, but somehow Seishi and Godo managed to hold hands as they watched Toriko take the customary three cups of sake with Staniv. Seishi once again studied her incumbent son-in-law and found no flaws, which pleased her greatly. She was already looking forward to well-formed grandchildren. Toriko was as delicate as a young reed, with beautiful large gray eyes like her father's, but she was also just curvy enough that giving birth would not be an ordeal. Seishi hoped for at least two babies in as many years to play with.
The reception was lavish, almost legendary in its spread. Seishi had conferred with the chefs on every dish in the nine-course meal, down to the sides and garnishes. She didn't tell them what to do since she knew she wasn't the best cook, but Seishi made it clear what sorts of flavors and feeling she wanted, and the cooks delivered spectacularly. Servers brought out nine-sectioned platters filled with the freshest and most colorful of foods, and bubbling copper hotpots that steamed with perfumed charcoal and gleamed in a bed of julienned meats and vegetables. There were miles of noodles (rice, bean, wheat, and more), oceans of broth, and every guest had their own bowl of shark fin soup. Each member of the royal family had thirty-four dishes to tempt the palate, each perfectly proportioned so no one would become over-full. The air was heavy with the scent of a hundred different spirits, including one vintage that Seishi and Godo shared between just themselves—it was what they'd had on their wedding day.
Seishi frequently looked up at Toriko, who seemed to have a perpetual blush and a smile for her husband. He seemed just as enchanted with her. It was all perfect, until Seishi picked up a piece of what she thought was fish and instead found herself holding a piece of rotten flesh.
She gasped aloud and dropped the food. It turned to a piece of golden fried fish before it even hit the plate.
"My love, what's wrong?" Godo asked, leaning over toward her.
"...Nothing," said Seishi, staring down at the fish. She couldn't believe that it was safe to eat. And before her eyes, the golden oden turned brown, then black, shriveling and suppurating into a dark purple. A hideous smell like rotting flesh hit her like a hammer. The beautiful food before her melted into black goo and started to bubble and hiss.
"Mother."
Seishi pushed herself away from the table and stood up abruptly. All around her, people were still eating happily as their own food turned to melting flesh and black fluid. Seishi swayed, nauseous and unbalanced.
"Mother!"
She turned and took a step, but pain shot through her hips. With a cry, Seishi tripped and fell to the ground. Her hands hit the floor with a wet slap and she surged back in horror as blood seeped up from the floor.
"Mother!"
Seishi turned. The wedding feast was gone. Godo was gone. Toriko was running toward her, her wedding finery shedding off her like old skin. For a hideous moment Seishi thought that she too was melting, but her clothing darkened and reformed, sticking to her like a second skin. Her eyes were terrifyingly green.
"...What happened?" Seishi asked breathlessly.
Toriko reached her, panting. She was younger than Seishi had just seen, but the same height. Seishi remembered with a pang that Toriko's real father was taller than Godo.
"Your mind was wandering," said Toriko, lifting her head. "And that flashback you had about F—the Demon, it was literally frightening you to death." Toriko shook her head and said, "I couldn't let you go like that."
"What are you saying?" Seishi asked suspiciously. "You can control my mind?"
"No," said Toriko. "It's... It's more like a river. I can install locks and change the flow if I have time, but if you question it, I can't—"
"So you are controlling my mind!"
"No!"
"How long have you been doing this?"
Toriko opened her mouth and shut it. With a sigh she said, "Mother, I've never controlled a single thing you've thought or done. But I've had the ability all my life."
"How?" Seishi shook her head sharply as the gears clicked into place. "It's from him, isn't it?"
"Yes, Mother."
A great many little things suddenly began to make sense. Toriko's solemnness and obedience as a child, her incredible sensibility, her talent when it came to picking up new skills when taught by other people...
"Mother, I'm the same child you've known all your life," said Toriko as Seishi took a step back. She sounded very tired.
"Why are you telling me this now?" Seishi demanded. "Instead of years ago?"
"Would you have believed me?"
"Answer my question."
"Didn't I just?"
"Did you?" Seishi fired back.
Toriko folded her arms. She looked very stubborn and adult.
"I want to go back to consciousness, or reality, or whatever you want to call it," said Seishi. "You do have some control over that, don't you?"
"Yes," said Toriko. "But you're going to go back to pain and misery and dementia. This way..." Toriko shrugged. "You can do whatever you want. And moments here last a lot longer than in the other place."
"But it's not true."
"So?"
"So I have never run from the truth in my life, Toriko, and I will not start on my deathbed."
Toriko's expression didn't change, but the formless black space seemed to shudder. Seishi jumped, but in the momentary flash of fear, she suddenly realized something.
"I'm dying right now, aren't I?"
"...yes, Mother," said Toriko softly, lowering her eyes.
"That's why you're telling me all this. Because... In a few moments, it won't matter."
Toriko nodded silently, her face tight.
Seishi closed her eye. She felt physically fine, better than she had in years. If she didn't force herself to remember what had happened, she felt sixteen again. Dying now seemed laughable and impossible.
"I wish I could make you better," said Toriko in a voice barely above a whisper. As Seishi looked at her, she said, "I wish I could actually cure you. I keep reading about medicine and science and there's just nothing like what you have. Nothing even close. So all I can do is make you comfortable."
"My sweet child, this is not what you are supposed to do," said Seishi, her chest aching with love and pity. "Fluff a pillow or put a cool towel on my head. Drug me, even. Don't escort me to death with a customized daydream."
"I just want you to be happy," said Toriko, bowing her head. "You know, Mother, I was really glad I was in your dream. I thought if you had the chance..."
"I have told you, you are the only good thing that came out of that," Seishi said. "I wouldn't erase your existence for anything."
Toriko sniffled. Seishi walked to her (ignoring the impossibility of doing so on one leg) and hugged her daughter. Toriko was as stiff as a board, but she'd always gone frozen whenever Seishi had embraced her.
"Tori-chan," she said. "Show me a dream of yours. I want to be happy with you."
Toriko gasped, a little sob escaping her throat. Strong little arms wrapped around Seishi's back, nearly crushing her with long-repressed emotion. For the first time in her life, Seishi understood what Toriko was actually feeling and the reality of it made her heart break.
"I have never hated you," she whispered to Toriko as the black space around them began to lighten and change shape. "Never."
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Seishi opened her eyes. She was peculiarly conscious now, aware that she was dreaming and yet surrounded by things that felt very real. She was in an office not unlike her own in the Blue Lotus, with a low desk and a deep cushion for a seat. But this office had two glass walls that looked out over the ocean, and the landscape was decidedly not Wutaiese. A name popped into her mind; Junon.
Seishi looked down at herself. Her hands were unmarked by ugly disease and when she patted her face, she had both eyes. She was wearing a strange garment that was definitely Continental, but evoked traditional Wutaiese lines in the seams and silhouette. There wasn't a mirror in this office, but there was a reflection off the glass. Seishi stood and walked over to the window, nearly tripping in heeled Continental shoes covered with patterned chirimen silk.
The woman looking back at her was tall, graceful, supremely healthy, and her fashion and makeup was somehow an effortlessly chic combination of Continental and Wutaiese styles. Upon seeing her reflection, new information came to her mind. She was Seishi Kurama, Continental Liaison, appointed by Lord Godo himself to facilitate good relations with foreigners. Her training as a geisha had served her well indeed, though her natural intelligence was what allowed her to succeed beyond all expectations.
"But what about the War?"
The War had never happened. Between Seishi's abilities and that of her Continental counterpart, the Shin-Ra Company had never gained enough traction to encourage conflict. Hundreds of people were still alive. Wutai was as strong and proud as ever, but more open to the world, which meant there were less superstitions, less stereotyping, and a lot more respect.
"What an elaborate dream this is," Seishi thought, very amused.
A noise happened, and Seishi simultaneously knew and did not know what it was. Since it came from her pocket, she reached in and pulled out a PHS, which was flashing a notification. "Lunch with T & S", it said.
"S can only be one person..."
Seishi was not looking forward to what was going to happen next, but she had a certain morbid curiosity.
She let go of a certain amount of conscious thought and watched herself leave the office, hail a taxi, and disembark at a restaurant whose lack of ocean views were compensated with a lovely garden instead. It was full but not overly busy, and to Seishi's surprise the clientele seemed equally split between Continentals, Wutaiese, and a variety of other peoples. And yet as distracting as the diversity was, her eyes immediately went to a long fall of instantly recognizable silver hair. He was sitting with his back to her.
Seishi steeled herself for the inevitable surge of fear and hatred, but instead she felt nothing. Wait, that wasn't true. She felt mild annoyance. Very mild. Because he had gotten there first.
"Well, it would ruin Toriko's dream if I felt the way I actually do... I can endure a bit of emotional trimming for a time, I suppose."
Seishi walked over to where Sephiroth was sitting and took a seat at the table. There were three chairs but Toriko was not present. He was looking at a menu, but put it down to look at her.
Seishi studied Toriko's version of Sephiroth carefully. The cruel expression that haunted her nightmares was gone, replaced with a cool scrutiny that mirrored her own. He was a grown man now, probably in his early thirties to mid-thirties, and he had grown into the intimidating promise of his boyhood frame. Seishi could admit that he cut a nice figure in a black suit and a white, high-collared shirt that he wore slightly unbuttoned and without a tie. For the first time in her life, the sight of Sephiroth's bright green eyes did not evoke instant and overwhelming fear.
"I hope you weren't waiting long," said Seishi, since she'd arrived after them.
"We only just arrived," he said. His voice was deeper than she remembered and had an edge of roughness that was semi-appealing. "How's work?"
"Same as usual," said Seishi, since she had no idea what work was actually like in this daydream. "Yourself?"
"Same," he said.
More than anything else, the fact that she could sit with Sephiroth and make small talk convinced Seishi of Toriko's strange abilities.
"I wonder how far they go..."
"The other day..." said Seishi carefully. "I was thinking about how we met."
"Now feed me the information I want, dream-Demon."
To her surprise, Sephiroth chuckled. He was very handsome when he was being human, though what he said next was a total surprise. "Publicly or otherwise?"
"Otherwise," said Seishi, figuring they'd probably seen each other in her dream's official capacity. Even with no war, a man of his abilities would have been drafted into some martial capacity, probably as a bodyguard to President Shin-Ra. She didn't care about that. In her dream, how did Toriko want to be conceived?
Seishi wasn't sure how to feel when Sephiroth smirked and then tried to hide it by drinking his coffee. She look at his expression very closely and decided he was pleased and a bit embarrassed to be talking about this subject in public. Now her curiosity was afire.
"Was it that bad for you?" She asked finally when Sephiroth didn't forward new information.
"Not at all," he said, looking quite surprised and for an instant, very young. Then his expression changed into an adult's calculation and Seishi nearly laughed as he attempted to look suave. "As far as one night stands go, it was...fairly decent."
"...Fairly decent," Seishi repeated, torn between hilarity and incredulity. Apparently Toriko had a very warped sense of humor.
"Four out of five stars," said Sephiroth, sounding pleased with himself. "One star off for 'no strings attached' not working out."
"And now it becomes clear where she gets it from," thought Seishi wryly.
"I'm sorry," said Seishi aloud, smiling. "Next time, you can carry the baby."
He looked nonplussed at that, which made Seishi actually laugh. She wondered if Toriko was making this expression up or if Sephiroth did look that confused when he was actually taken aback.
"Where is Toriko?" Seishi asked, looking around. At that moment she saw Sephiroth's eyes flick to look over her shoulder and Seishi turned in her chair to look. There was Toriko in a fawn-colored gown trimmed with creamy ivory lace, and she looked happy indeed. There was a flicker of uncertainty as she looked at Seishi, but it slid off her face as she came to the table.
"Hello, parents," she said, sounding happy indeed.
"Hello daughter," said Sephiroth.
Seishi reached for Toriko, intending to give her hand a squeeze, but to her surprise, Toriko hugged her. It was not suffocatingly tight but instead heavy with pleasure.
They had lunch and talked. Seishi quickly determined that Sephiroth and Toriko had come to Junon because it was summer break for school, and while Sephiroth had Toriko for most of the year, she habitually spent the entirety of summer break and all major holidays with Seishi. This was a new arrangement, starting with Toriko's acceptance to Waverly Academy. Prior to that, she had gone to school in Wutai and lived with Seishi, with Sephiroth making trips out twice a year to be with her. It was a peculiar relationship all around, since Sephiroth and Seishi were definitely not married and never intended to marry. In the real world Seishi could see a hundred reasons why this sort of arrangement wouldn't work, but in Toriko's dream, it was just perfect.
"It could be stranger," thought Seishi. "If her dream was to have the two of us happily in love, I think I would be very worried about her mental state."
Seishi watched the interaction between Sephiroth and Toriko closely. Though she knew this was Toriko's dream and that she was probably making things perfect for herself, Toriko and Sephiroth interacted very familiarly, more so than Toriko and Seishi ever had. They quipped at each other, stole off each other's plates, and once Sephiroth flicked a straw wrapper at her when she was being too pert. When Toriko said 'Father', there was no self-imposed formality in her voice. Seishi had gotten used to it a long time ago, but hearing Toriko's voice without it made her heart hurt a little.
Lunch ended. Sephiroth gave Toriko a peck on the head before excusing himself; he had to go to work. Meanwhile Seishi checked her calendar and realized that her schedule was empty.
"So what would you like to do now?" She asked her daughter.
"I want to go to the festival with you," said Toriko.
"Festival?"
"The Spring Tide Festival," said Toriko. "On the beach."
So they went. Seishi had to really suspend her disbelief, because the Spring Tide Festival was very much like the Festival of Fairies, except there were some obvious Continental substitutions for Wutaiese traditions. Instead of Dragon's Beard, Seishi and Toriko ate cotton candy, and there were fire spinners instead of dancers. They had unlimited money and bought and ate whatever they wanted, never feeling full or running out of anything. At some point Toriko changed from a fourteen-year-old into a seven-year-old child, dressed in a beautiful pink-checked yukata with blue flowers on it. Seishi didn't comment on the change. It was unimportant in the face of Toriko's joy, their shared laughter over silly things, and how the best moments lasted like the sweetness of fresh peaches.
At last the dream-evening grew dark and little Toriko grew tired. Seishi held her hand as they left the beach and took the stairs back up to the upper level. Again Seishi let the dream guide her and they walked to her house, which was a very grand affair. Trailing blue flowers covered the top of a marble-sheathed wall that went around the perimeter of the property, and the house itself was like a Continental take on a Wutaiese castle, except classy and not garish. Honey-colored wood constrasted against polished stone that went about a third of the way up the house, and glass windows seemed to make up most of the walls. The garden was a masterwork of Wutaiese aesthetics, complete with sweet tea olive trees and a small pond filled with expensive koi.
"Did you have a nice time, Tori-chan?" Seishi asked her yawning daughter.
"Uh-huh," said little Toriko with a nod. "Mommy..."
Seishi gasped. Toriko had never called her 'Mommy' in her entire life.
"Love you," she said, almost offhand.
"I love you too, Tori-chan," said Seishi. She picked up Toriko and carried her into the house. Peripherally she noticed it was getting very, very dark, too dark to be explained by a simple change in moonlight. The edges of the dream were starting to lose shape. Seishi shoved away the fear starting to flutter in her chest and instead took Toriko up to her bedroom. The futon was already laid out on the floor and covered with the richest, softest blankets Seishi had ever seen. What a beautiful resting place Toriko had come up with.
She pulled the blankets back, lingering on their weight and the way they felt in her hands. They were even softer than silk. Seishi climbed into the bed and pulled Toriko up to her. Toriko was almost asleep and Seishi had to stop herself from shaking her child awake. Dream-Toriko was exhausted, but Toriko in the real world was no doubt even more tired. Sustaining a beautiful dream like this couldn't be easy and she was working so hard to make this moment last; Seishi couldn't bring herself to force Toriko to do more.
Seishi drew the silk blankets over them and settled next to her daughter, touching her forehead to Toriko's. She touched Toriko's soft little cheek and her hair. The world beyond their bed turned to black, but Seishi breathed deeply and was at peace.
"Goodnight, Tori-chan," whispered Seishi.
"Goodnight, Mommy," came the whispered reply of a fourteen-year-old.
Seishi closed her eyes. It was warm, comfortable, and painless. She fell asleep.
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a/n: I need to take a two week break after writing this. Thanks for understanding. In the meantime, my deviantArt account (found on my profile) has been updated with two pieces of PYLO/MYV-related art. I think you would be amused if you looked at them. And I would be amused if you left feedback or commentary, because I've been thinking about doing a longform webcomic.
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