Yes. One review, one fav, from that one dedication. Boy, aren't I lucky. But I heartz chu, Miyou-chan!
Zukunft.
speicher.
.memory.commence.
Beep... beep... beep... beep...
A steady, rhythmic pattern floated through the hospital room, monitoring a now-steady pulse. The man lay almost silently in his bed, eyes shut, his soft breathing echoed through the oxygen mask over his face. They had finally restored his blood pressure to a safe level, though he was still in severe condition at the hospital. He had finally been returned from the operating rooms, as it took five surgeons to remove the knife and stop the internal bleeding, but they couldn't determine any form of brain damage until he could bring himself to consciousness again.
The man outside had been told the information, as well as a congratulations for finding him so quickly.
"And what is your relationship with this man?" the nurse had asked.
"Uh..."
Silent.
Like him.
He had his elbows on his knees as he sat on the bench in the hallway, hands folded in front of him, mouth dry against his thumbs. Everyone knew he was upset... because a man had been dying and nobody had stopped for him.
No...that wasn't all.
Not near all. There was something... something he could feel, something he just knew, right under the surface. He frowned deeper, brows furrowed as he waited quietly.
Hurried footsteps rushed down the hallway, but he didn't look up until he found a familiar face in front of his, gentle, delicate hands on his stiffened shoulders. "Oh, honey... are you okay? Sora called me..."
He didn't seem to hear. He didn't care who called her.
He didn't understand this!
"His name..." he said softly. His wife blinked, a nervous look forming on her face as she watched him quietly. "His name... is Aya..."
"Aya...?" she repeated. Her hands tightened, and she looked at him closely. "How do you know? Honey... are you starting to remember? Do you know him? Did you?"
He shook his head, letting his hands uncurl. Reaching over, he took her hands in his, then placed his forehead against them, sighing.
I don't know...
"I just can't remember..."
It hurt to think about it. He was shaking, and she stayed silent, stroking his hair gently. There were few words of consoling she could give here, but soon found two soft ones.
"He'll live..."
...it's not over... it couldn't be, so soon... it's never over...
He finally stopped. The car rolled slowly to a halt, and soon the slight vibrations ended as the engine concluded. His driver popped out of the car, then moved and opened his door. Quietly, he stepped out of the vehicle.
She remained silent and stayed in the car, closed laptop resting underneath the palms of her manicured hands. She was holding the data for him, and he was handling business.
He said nothing once he left, and walked calmly to the entrance. Gates were to the left and right of the building, displaying small grass fields, prisoners either playing sports or sitting under trees. There were a few standing by the gate, two standing at the fence to his right.
"Yeah... that's the big-shot there..."
"He's a Takatori... slime..."
His jaw tightened. But he kept walking. Common prisoners weren't of his concern; he was looking for one in specific.
"I'm coming for you..."
"I always trusted you... Omi..."
"I'm not..."
A sigh. "I know..."
He wasn't Tsukiyono Omi. He never was. Tsukiyono Omi never existed. He had been found and given a false label; he had a name now, a true one. It wasn't very agreeable, but it was his name. There was no Tsukiyono Omi, only a new Takatori.
Fictional...
...no... this is all reality... it has to be...
He was stepping into reality. They gave him a new outfit; he wore pressed, tan slacks and a crisp, dark blue top. He almost went with a tie, but thought against it, believing his clean black boots and his hair gelled back were enough. Thankfully, they gave him his goggles back, and he placed them on top of his head calmly.
He was...
Ready...? No... he could never be ready. But he was willing.
He stood by a window in an office, a hand in his pocket as he watched a car drive to the front. The man who exited brought a smile to his lips. He had called and received an immediate welcome. They weren't just friends...
Good friends? Maybe more...
The minute he looked up, the brunette found himself smiling, lifting a hand to wave.
...there he is... coming to save me from my self-inflicted nightmares...
"Yes, thank you. I'll be sure to keep him out of trouble."
"Thank you, Takatori-sama," the official said, smiling slightly. The two men rose from their chairs, both bowing to each other out of respect. With that, the official waved an arm to the guard standing by his side. "Now, if you will follow Higuchi-san here, he will take you to Hidaka-san."
The Takatori nodded calmly and followed the older man to an empty office...
Empty, save one individual.
"Please, leave us."
The guard bowed and exited.
Silence...
Ken ran over, immediately pulling his old friend into a hug. "Oh, thank goodness you're okay!"
Mamoru smiled. "Of course I'm okay. I'm always okay... I'm glad to see you're doing better..." He looked at his friend, happiness twinkling in his eyes as he took in his friend's wardrobe. "Wow... to think, you got all dolled up, just for me."
"Well, they wouldn't let me wear just anything..." Ken replied with a sheepish smile, moving a hand to the back of his head. Calmly, he smoothed down his hair, his cheeks pinkening slightly. "Now that you're such a big-shot now and all... you're not my little Omi anymore..."
Mamoru's smile twitched, almost leaving his face, but he kept it frozen. "Ken, you know there was no Omi..."
Never was... never should have been...
Ken nodded. "Yeah... but I'm still glad you came, Om...Mamoru-kun..." He frowned for a moment.
His own smile faltered.
It just wasn't the same...
He cleared his throat. "Well, yes, come on. I'm sure you're sick of seeing this place by now. Let us go, Hidaka-kun."
Quietly, the two left the building and climbed into the car.
...something's different... everything's changed...
She gave him a small cup of tea, told him it would make him feel better.
The man was sleeping still. Resting. The pulse monitor beeped quietly, each sound echoing through the silence.
He sat in the room this time, in a chair next to the window, light from a streetlamp creating a small, blurry orb against the dark sky peering through the pale, thin curtains. It was bleak and empty below on the streets, and he found more comfort standing inside the climate-controlled in-patient room than outside in the unpredictable city. It was late; visiting hours had ended an hour ago, but he sat and waited. He couldn't leave yet.
The door slowly slid open, and Asuka peeked her head in.
His Asuka... perhaps...
"Thought I'd find you here..." she said softly. She slowly came into the room, her soft footsteps echoing as she made her way over to her husband, standing next to him. "The doctors say it's just a waiting game," she told him. "They're not sure if it'll be days or months..."
"I'll have to wait for him.."
He waited for me...
She sighed softly. "I know, sweetie, I know..." They remained silent for a few minutes, and she checked her watch, then glanced back at him. "Yohji, sweetie, it's late, visiting hours have been over for hours... come on, let's go home."
He stared reluctantly at her, then frowned and nodded. He didn't even know him...
He did, he was sure...
Taking Asuka's hand in his, he let her quietly lead him out of the room and into the plain white hallway. They headed to the car in silence.
"Lazy bum!"
He smacked Ken with a pillow for the eighth time that afternoon, when the taller man lazily fell asleep on the couch. Again. He had been napping quite a bit since they arrived, crashing in an armchair, then at the meal table, then after dinner on the couch. He just worked himself into a cosy place and began to snore softly.
Comforting snores...
They were the same snores from before, echoing through the room, letting anyone know he was there.
Letting anyone know he was alive...
But sleepy. He was irritated by it, his grandfather annoyed at the odd, persistent sound that 'disturbed the pagonias'. He had gone into the living room and proceeded in smacking Ken with a pillow, just as he had when he was younger...
Back when he was Omi and beating Ken with a pillow for slacking on the job always seemed so common...
No.
He wasn't Omi.
He was Takatori--an inward cringe--Mamoru, and he cared for the well-being of his family. And right now, the well-being of his family was getting the bum off the couch.
"Hidaka-kun, wake up!" he persisted.
The brunette ignored him, merely reaching out for something to hug. Ken snagged the pillow and promptly dropped it. Mamoru sighed and bent down to grab the pillow, when two flailing hands grabbed hold of him and tugged him near. "Oh yes..."
"Hidaka-kun...?"
"Stay... 's lon'ly..."
Mamoru frowned, sitting his small frame on the edge of the couch, Ken's long, toned hands draped about his waist. A tiny smile formed, crashing through his serious expression, a small feeling of nostalgia floating over to him. Gently, he wiped away a few stray locks of hair from Ken's face.
Sleep well...
...this is what feels normal, even though it's not...
A Wednesday like no other. The phone was going off and he wanted it stopped. Immediately. As fast as immediate could be, hopefully faster. He merely rolled over, nudging the one next to him. "Answer..." he murmured.
A soft murmur responded, and the bed shifted. Footsteps trudged away from the bed, something metal clicked, and soon a calm, though tired, voice echoed in the room. "Takatori speaking." Businesslike, always businesslike.
Was last night so much like business...?
Ken sat up quickly, eyes widening. Om--Mamoru--stood by a table, tugging on a pair of jeans. Why was Mamoru putting on his jeans, asides from the sake of convenience of pants in reach? The man continued a conversation on the phone with murmurs of "Alright" and "Yes" amd "I understand". A few minutes of that, and as he continued, Ken lay back on the pillows, trying to think of an explanation.
Had they... as they had before...?
Mamoru hung up shortly and set the cell phone down on his desk. He soon spun around and looked at Ken calmly, arms crossed over a bare, toned chest. "We're being called," he announced.
"Called?" Ken returned to sitting upright and frowned in confusion. "Okay, clear this up for me, Omi. Why am I in your bed, how come you're in my jeans, and what the hell are we being called about?"
A pout was tugging, absolutely begging, to form on his lips, as hair fell in front of his eyes, and he frowned. "Hidaka-kun, my name is Mamoru. Not Omi," he said calmly. "And seriously,"--his voice took a turn of disappointment--"you don't remember?"
"Remem...ber?" Ken had to pause for a minute and think this through. He remembered taking lots of naps, and then... that cursed game Mamoru challenged him to, on choosing where to sleep. Then he landed in Mamoru's bed, and the clothes vanished, and--"Oh... that! I remember, really, O--Mamoru-kun..."
The younger one was still rather pouty, but he merely returned to the bed, staring down at him calmly. "That was Manx... Weiss has a mission."
Even with a slight pout and blue jeans, his words rang truth. However, Ken just couldn't take him seriously in that outfit.
...truly back to normal... not so much as always, but it feels so right...
It felt so common.
Calm and normal, common. He was back in the room, silent, the tag by a bed reading "Fujimiya Aya". That was the unconscious man's name. They questioned Yohji, but believed him; it was the amnesia, it was wearing away, the psychiatrist had told him that afternoon. He was getting better, he could remember.
"I'm in love with a woman named Asuka," he told himself in the room.
I'm obsessed with a woman named Asuka.
He was silent. So common, yet it felt strange, as he sat, staring out of the window's pale curtains to the day's sky ahead of him. Asuka checked on him once every hour, and she always found him sitting right there. It was calm, normal, common, him. She loved him, he knew, and it made him happy to know that he could remember her.
Remember... it was so difficult to remember...
The door opened and she entered, looking over at him. "Yohji, sweetie, are you okay?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "I'm fine..." he replied. To enforce his answer, he added a smile.
She left quickly afterwards, called back to duty of some unruly seven-year-old screaming over a toy of sorts. He watched her go, yet as she left his presence, he didn't feel any different.
He was still empty...
Beep... beep... beep... be-beep... be-be-beep...
Yohji looked up. Uncommon... very uncommon. He frowned and turned to look toward the bed, where the man shifted, uncomfortable, groaning softly as he struggled to sit up. Yohji rushed over and shook his head, gently placing his hands on his shoulders. "No, you're not okay to move yet," he said softly, easing the man back onto his pillows.
The red-haired man... Fujimiya Aya... looked up through hazy eyes, blinking a few minutes. "Y-Yohji...?" he whispered, voice hoarse.
"H-how do you know my name?" Yohji immediately questioned. "Why do I know you? How do I know you?"
Aya winced in pain at his stomach, but soon leaned back, turning to one side, looking up as he whispered two calm words:
"The... flowers..."
...having seen eyes like yours... this isn't heaven but remains enjoyable...
...the answers that await us might not be what we want...
The answers that await might be what we need...
The questions that we ask probably aren't what we want to know...
They're what we need to know.
Yohji's cell phone rang.
.speicher.end.
Memory.
.wk.
Yeah, so thazit. More people need to get into Weiss, it's great. -giggle-
:Darkness Princess.