Author's Note: I apologize for the delay but my new job was keeping my brain from functioning after work. This chapter is rated M for mature content, turn away now or face the consequence (you have been warned.) And once again my Editor Priestess of Groove turned my scribble into a story (LOVE YOU!!) that hopefully you will enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'Oro in any way or form.
Recommend: For best viewing pleasure, set you width to 1/2 (Top Right Hand Corner)
Chapter 6
Len woke with a start. His pupils dilated too rapidly in the dim lights for him too see anything at the moment. The deafening chattering resonated from down below was making him tense. It reminded him too much of his of first public recital when he was eight years old. It was the same kind of loud chattering on the other side of the door leading to the stage.
The shroud of shadow was slowly fading away as his eyes adjusted to the dark ambience. He was sitting on a plush recliner in a VIP box of an auditorium. Judging from the vague outlines of the galleries and the moving silhouettes, it was also the largest one he had ever seen. He could make out three decks of VIP boxes stretched three levels up across the hall, another good indication of its grandeur. The biggest auditorium in Japan only had one deck of VIP boxes. While he was pondering these questions the auditorium erupted in a loud roar of shouts and ovations. Cheers and whistles rang up and down the hall like lightning bolts in a thunderstorm.
Questions of his whereabouts momentarily forgotten, Tsukimori's attention was drawn to a single figure that was now walking elegantly onto the stage, with a meticulously crafted violin and bow held together in his left hand.
Len could not take his eyes off the man. There was something about the man that was both familiar and odd at the same time. From his vantage point, the violinist's face was mostly covered by his long, well manicured purple tresses, except for the sharp, masculine chin. His broad shoulders and slender limbs contoured his tuxedo flawlessly - a picture perfect candidate for a solo performance.
The man in question stopped until he reached the center of the stage, and the entire audience fell silent as if a spell was cast by the violinist. The thunderous roars just a moment ago ended just as suddenly as it had started. All eyes were on the now motionless violinist on stage. On cue the man brought his violin to his shoulder with the same gracefulness as before. His chin came down on the rest in unison with the bow now hovering above the strings. In that single moment of silence, Tsukimori would have sworn there was not a decibel of noise in the hall.
A rich deep sound filled the auditorium as the violinist started off slow, holding a whole note before he proceeded up a scale at a quicker pace. Len's eyes widened in stunned fascination as the violinist commenced his recital. His body recoiled back against the velvet seat as if struck by a physical force. He had to still his fingers against the velvet fabric on the armrest to stop the tremors of excitement and anticipation. He couldn't stop the palpitations of his heart as he bared witness to the most magnificent melodies he had ever perceived.
He felt rather then heard the notes echo within the auditorium, surrounding him, encompassing him with its phenomenal rhythms. His eyes fluttered close while he rested his head against the seat, letting himself be immersed into the rhythm and flows of Bruch's Concerto No. 1 in G minor.
The notes spent across the entire spectrum, from the lowest G to even beyond the highest C8 at such speed the violinist's fingers were a blur. Tsukimori could tell that not a note was out of place, even as he slid through scales in an intense allegro. Len shuddered at the beautiful combination of harmonics, vibrato, and intonation that made this particular piece. The strokes of the bow, the tone quality, rhythm and dynamics were articulated by the soloist's vigorous and precise strokes. Coupled with his slender digits stamping out the notes over the fingerboard with poise, it was almost a separate performance all by itself.
His heart fluttered as the notes continued to resonate inside the hall. For the first time in his life, Tsukimori Len was truly envious for the talent and skill of another. This would also mark a second time in his life that he let himself take pleasure in another's music, without prejudice, without judgment. The first time was at his sixth birthday party, when his father performed with his mother for the first time.
In his opinion, no one could have ever achieved a higher skill with violin than the man there on the stage. Every pitch, every tone, and every stroke of his bow movement was…perfect.
His eyes burned as the amount of emotions stirred by the wondrous recital as it reached its climatic conclusion. The violinist concluded his performance by a slow descent back into silence and his last note quavered on the tip of the bow. No one appeared to breathe when the violinist continued to stand there with his bow still connected to the string, and then he easily lifted the bow into the air to fall at his side and he pulled his violin out from beneath his chin.
Len released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. To him, it was the best performance he had ever attended. This violinist was the greatest that had ever lived.
He was on his feet before anyone else was, but his vigorous clapping was swallowed as the whole hall erupted into a roar of praises and ovations from the entire audience.
Len's body still shook with the aftermath of that astonishing performance. He looked on with genuine admiration as the violinist bowed deeply to the cheering mass before departing from the stage. Just before he disappeared behind the drapes, he brushed his hair away from his face with a free hand. Not the typical over your head movement, but with a more elegant side-brush motion with his elbow high above.
Len frowned in consternation. Why did that seem familiar? Where did he see that before? He was focused so hard on that particular gesture that he didn't notice a lone figure standing next to him.
"Magnificent, wasn't it?" A voice purred next to his ear, a familiar voice. "How did you like your performance…Tsukimori-kun?"
Startled, Len whirled his head around. His eyes were swathed in shadow again transitioning from the bright lit stage to the dim light. Although he could barely make out the silhouette of this person through the dissipating darkness, he recognized that voice.
"Yunoki…senpai?" He asked.
He was even more confused now. The question of his whereabouts reentered his mind. He knew that Yunoki-senpai went to England to study Finance and Business Management for his eventual inheritance of the family business. Judging from the grandness of this auditorium, he was obviously not in Japan. What was he doing in England? How did he even get here in the first place? And what did he mean by "my performance?
"Yunoki…Azuma desu…ka? I guess you could say that," the man replied cryptically with his customary drone after a brief pause. The overhead walk light turned on at the same time, revealing the speaker.
Len shielded his eyes from the abrupt brightness. His eyes had to be playing tricks with him because the Yunoki that he knew did not have snowy, white hairs.
Not just his hairs, his brows and lashes were white also.
Len blinked his eyes a few times in an attempt to get whatever that was in his eyes back to normal. Yet the color didn't change back to the familiar purple as he remembered. The only thing that was familiar to him was that insufferable smirk, still very much the same.
"I do not comprehend, Yunoki-senpai, how did…" Len was interrupted by his right index finger swaying in front of him.
"You didn't answer my question, how did you like the performance?" Yunoki eyed him expectantly, his eyes thinned into a slit, accompanied with a grin.
"Umm…it was…it was pleasant." Len answered hesitantly at the same time trying to remain impassive. He brushed away his bangs impatiently that covered part of his eyes.
His arm froze in midair. Something just clicked in his head. Right before the violinist stepped off the stage, he did the same thing. If Len were to look more closely, away from the brilliant stage light, his hair color turned from a uniform iron-grey to a light sky blue. And the eye that was uncovered by the brushing hand was reflected in a golden brown.
"I…my…performance…?" Len mouthed soundlessly, his eyes narrowed.
"Of course, Tsukimori-kun, who could have captivate the entire world through his music other than you?" Yunoki chided him like a little child asking something so rudimentary.
Len's vision refocused back to this "Yunoki." He looked so unlike the one that he remembered and yet his demeanor was one of the same.
"How is this possible?" Len questioned incredulously.
"Why do you doubt it? It took you two years to exceed everyone at the Consortium in Vienna. Another two years for you to surpassed and became the First Violin in the Vienna Philharmonic. Four years later, you separated from the Orchestra and started your own venue. At the age of twenty-nine, Tsukimori Len was considered to be the best and the most talented violinist in history…as you have just witnessed." He beamed at him.
"That was not what I meant…" Len protested.
"Or did you mean that in the course of your eventual upraise to stardom that you alienated all your friends, all your colleagues and even your family?"
"What…?!" Len was speechless.
"You don't believe me?" Yunoki arched one of his white brows, "then see for it yourself." He raised his right hand and made a snap of his fingers.
As soon as Len heard the clicking sound, the scenery changed abruptly around him. The velvet seats in the VIP box, the galleries, the bobbing heads and shuffling bodies were being washed away like water thrown onto a paint-spattered canvas.
Len stumbled back a few paces, trying to steady himself against something but found nothing. The colors and lights were spinning all around him so quickly it was like being inside a giant kaleidoscope.
He ended up shutting his eyes due to dizziness and did his best to stay afoot. Before he could shield his eyes with his hands, the violent lights suddenly ceased and gave way to darkness.
It took a few more moments for his visions to adjust to the dark ambience again. "Yunoki" was still standing at roughly the same distance before he closed his eyes. The surroundings resembled an apartment with its normal complement of fixtures. Beams of moonlight shinning through a nearby window illuminated "Yunoki's" long white strands, but part of his face was hidden in shadows, casting an eerie pall over him.
By now he already knew that this person or whoever he claimed to be was not Yunoki. No living human being could do what he just did, but strangely Len found he was not afraid of the man. The entire affair was so confusing and mystifying. This man appeared to hold all the answers and Tsukimori was determined to get them.
If what "Yunoki" said was true, he would be able to fulfill his lifelong ambition in merely eight years. And if that performance earlier was any indication of his providence, he would have commemorated himself for time well spent.
The thought brought a tiny smile to his lips, but it disappeared as soon as he saw "Yunoki" grin in the shadow. Extending his index finger toward him, he made a hooking motion for Len to follow into an adjacent room teeming with commotion.
Even from outside the room Len could hear hoarse breathes and painless moans coming through the door, echoing off the walls.
Len averted his eyes out of embarrassment but instantly recognized the man as the violinist – himself from eight years later engaged in what he could only describe as ravaging sexual intercourse with a slender woman beneath.
Len wanted to leave. He wanted to give them the privacy that they deserved, but couldn't bring his legs to move. The statement "Yunoki" made earlier regarding his friends and family frightened him more than he was willing to admit. He desperately wanted to find out what happened to him in the future, and yet he couldn't command himself to move closer to see the woman's face. If she was someone he knew, if she was someone from his past, it would be OK…right?
Was it worth it?
He didn't know how long his indecision had kept him frozen in place, but he noticed the sudden cease of movements as both male and female lay in a heap of sweat and limbs. Someone turned on the bed lamps. Len was both disappointed and relieved that she wasn't any woman that he knew. He braced himself for the scold that was sure to come for the intrusion. But none came.
"That…that…was amazing!" The cherry haired woman sounded dazed, still trying to recover from her exertions. She placed a hand on Tsukimori's (That was what Len decided to refer him as) shoulder, but he shrugged it off forcefully. He then pushed up and away from her before getting off the bed. Neither of them seemed to notice their presence.
The woman sensed Tsukimori's foul mood and without further words, she clumsily got off the bed on the other side without touching him.
Len watched in genuine revulsion as Tsukimori reached for his wallet among his discarded garments on the floor. He tossed a stack of cash at the woman's feet and entered the bathroom without a backward glance. The women hesitated for only a brief instance before picking up all the bills, and then she dressed herself hastily and exited the room. He didn't know why but the woman had a slight resemblance to Hino.
Realizing what had transpired, Len couldn't keep the sneer of disgust from forming on his face. The concept of paying someone for sexual favors was repulsive all by itself, and his future self did just that.
His hands slowly fisted in anger. He had never been this angry before. The man in the bathroom was tarnishing HIS reputation. The years of hardships that he will have endured will go to waste if anyone found out about this.
He could not sit by idly and let it happen. He will confront him, Len decided. He was going to demand an explanation for this reviled act, and if he had, to he would knock some sense into him.
He was so tense from his anger with his older self, he literally jumped when Yunoki's voice resounded behind him.
"You really can't blame the poor guy, you know?" He sounded bemused. Len had completely forgotten that he was even there.
"Yunoki" shrugged indifferently. He didn't appear to be the slightest intimidated by the death stare that Len was glowing him with.
"What do you expect? He has no friends. All his past colleagues were afraid to even talk to him. He was out of contact with his parents and family ever since he went on his own. The only one who would even talk to him didn't care much about his music so much as the money that was flowing in from each concert," he said.
"Like I was saying before, you alienated everyone who was once important to you in your pursuit for glory. You were so consumed by it that you became a prisoner of your own genius." Yunoki pointed behind Len's shoulder.
Len's gaze followed his direction and stared at his older self as he came out of the bathroom, wet, naked and looking absolutely desolated, lighting up what looked like a cigarette.
"Or was it something else?" Yunoki drawled.
"Remember Hino Kahoko? The girl that you were so fond of?" The question made Len's heart skip a beat. He wanted to say that he was impartial to her just like anyone else but that would be a lie.
"You two became close right before you left for Austria," Yunoki told him.
"It was her music that brought a new light into my own," Len protested weakly, knowing what was to come.
"And yet you find it plausible to abandon her in your search for fame and riches?"
"I am not abandoning her, and it wasn't for money and trophies either. I simply wanted to fulfill my lifelong dream. Once I achieved the best that I could ever be, I would go back to her." Len told him resolutely, "And then we will continue what we started."
Yunoki laughed, not the good-hearted laugh between good friends, but a mockery for the recipient to be ridiculed.
"You wanted to beat the guy up for tainting your reputation earlier? If it weren't for money and trophies as you so eloquently put it, there would have been no need for that." Yunoki pointed out.
"I…" Len's mouth shut with an audible "snap" as Yunoki pressed onward.
"Once you discovered the skill necessary to fuse emotions with your playing technique, you severed all communications with everyone and became him." Yunoki nodded his chin toward the dark figure now smoking dejectedly.
"You are really no better than he was. You used Hino Kahoko and everyone else who could aid you with your techniques and styles, and as soon as you mastered it you discarded them like litter. At least he," Yunoki gestured, "paid for their services."
"That was not true!!" Len screamed at him. The outburst surprised even himself.
"That was not true." He whispered again, this time to no one in particular.
Len's gaze once again fell onto the disheveled men on the bed, where the wisps of death swirled around him. His eyes were hollowed and barren, devoid of any emotion, but just behind that pair of moist, copper orbs were a profound sense of longing and utter desolation.
"I…I was afraid." Len said quietly into the room.
"I was afraid of repercussions and failures. I didn't know how to handle emotions…and relationships with people," Len had to stop and swallowed. "So I chose to dwell deeper into my music, the only thing that I have some semblance of control over. I was using my music as an excuse so I didn't have to face everyone else." He staggered over and sat on the foot of the bed. The older Tsukimori didn't seem to take notice, but Len didn't care, as everything began becoming clear to him.
With his inability and unwillingness to deal with inter-personal relationships, Tsukimori Len resorted to cowardice in the form of questing for musical perfection. He might have achieved the goal, but in the process, he not only lost his friends, his family and even himself.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Len intoned shamefully, he buried his face into his shaking hands, unknowingly mimicking the older Tsukimori just a few feet away.
"I wish there is something I can do to change it." He whimpered into his hands.
Len felt a hand on his shoulder. "You already have," "Yunoki" said. For the first time he sounded sincere, without any hint of mockery.
"The moment that you decided to jump in front of the car in place of Hino Kahoko, you altered your destiny."
Len's head shot up from his wet palms. Memories of the accident flooded his senses in a rush that made him lightheaded. But he managed to croak out, "Hino…did I…?"
"You saved her." He affirmed.
Len breathed out a sigh of relief. His head felt so heavy that he dropped it back onto his hands in his lap. "Then why am I seeing this? And what are you?" he asked quietly.
"This, you mean?" Yunoki gestured about the room.
Len nodded, without looking up.
"Perspective," he replied with a grin, a genuine smile. "You have to see it to want to make a difference. It was also a lot easier for you to answer your own question."
"Was it worth it?" Len answered automatically, his eyes widened in realization.
"Exactly." Yunoki beamed back at him.
Wiping off the wetness from earlier, Len pondered his words carefully, "You are not Yunoki-senpai." It was a statement. "You are my Judgment."
Was it worth it?
"Yunoki" thinly smiled at Len until one side had curved up into a half smile. "Impressive. You have a very keen mind…for a musician, that is."
"Why did you choose to be Yunoki-senpai?"
"I didn't. You did," he replied nonchalantly, while blowing something off his fingernails. "Wasn't it true that you respected him a great deal? That he did what you could not?" He looked up from his hand, inquiring him with his pointed stare.
Len stared back but not at this "Yunoki." He was looking back through time, back to the day when he first learned that Yunoki-senpai would be leaving his music behind in pursuit of a financial career. He had been shocked. He could not understand why someone with such musical talent would want to give it up so readily, but as it turned out, it was not so easy after all.
The gentle orange hue of the setting sun filled the room of the empty classroom with just the two of them. Len stood cemented to the floor staring at Yunoki. Yunoki stood opposite him and Len listened to his agonizing explanation. No, he did not want to give up music. No, he did not want to inherit the family business just like his brother and his younger sister in which he would follow, but no, he did not have a choice in the matter.
"There are some obligations that you must fulfill in life, no matter the cost or the consequence to your own desire…in the name of love." Yunoki had told him dejectedly and left it at that.
Len didn't understand then. He kept his eyes on Yunoki's back long after he exited the room, contemplating his words and actions. He tried and failed to place himself in the same dilemma as Yunoki because he could not fathom the prospect of not being able to pursue his lifelong dream – to become the best in the world.
His respect and admiration for Yunoki mounted, because he knew that he would not be able to make the same decision if he was present with a similar issue. One would need courage and fortitude, which he was sure he lacked.
"And you have more of both in you than you previously realized." Yunoki's voice brought him out of his reverie.
"Are you ready to go back?" His Judge prodded gently.
Len's eyes narrowed just a fraction, but then he nodded. "Any fate is better than the one I just witnessed." He whispered. "I will not make the same mistake twice."
"Remember what you have said here." Yunoki smiled and squeezed his shoulder.
Len spared a glance to the side at the older Tsukimori, but he was no longer there.
"I wouldn't worry about him if you kept what you just said in mind." His Judgement winked at him.
A weird feeling was washing over him. His limbs were getting heavy and numb. A tingling sensation was forming from the top of his scalp spreading down to his neck and chest and throughout his entire body.
He watched in stunned fascination as "Yunoki's" outline began to fade into transparency. Right before the man complete faded away, he smiled at him mysteriously.
"She was your destiny."
His paleness grew brighter with each passing second and soon Len was engulfed in this blinding white light – accompanied by a faint, pleasant aroma of cherry blossom.
It felt like his body was floating in the air, amongst the clouds in a comfortable numbness that sent shivers down his spine. He didn't know how long he was suspended in that state, but the blinding white light gradually diminished in its intensity and Len was left staring at a full moon with its soft glow through the glittery night sky.
He was lying prone on an inclined bed with his head nestled comfortably on a soft pillow. He had to blink his eyes a few times to clear the blurriness away. The memory of the earlier encounter was still afresh, and he wondered if anyone would have believed him.
This was not his bed at home that was for certain. The light wasn't on, but the moonlight shone so brilliantly he could easily see his surroundings. He did not recognize the setting or any of the fixtures in this room, yet it felt so familiar and endearing.
Movements outside the window caught his attention as flakes of sakura leaves tumbled by in a gentle breeze. Some made it into the open window and a few even fluttered onto his gown.
So that was where the aroma came from…
He went on to pick it up, but was dismayed to find that his arms were leaden and weak. He grunted with effort but could barely lift his right arm off the bed. Not only was it heavy, it was extremely sore, almost painful.
The numbing sensation was fading away quickly, replaced by a definitive soreness that began to emanate from all over his limbs and body. The soreness was now developed into a throbbing ache and this was most noticeable in his hips and lower back. Even moving his head was an exercise in pain.
Through countless groans and grumbles with what limited movement that he could manage, he was finally able to roll onto his right side. The exertion was sapping away at his strength. He lay there, breathlessly, watching still more cherry blossom leaves sway aimlessly in the cool night breeze.
The tranquility of it all was so calm and soothing, if not for the ache and the soreness that he had to endure, this setting would be not too far away from being heavenly.
Len closed his eyes in hope of regaining more stamina. He really wanted to see what was below the windows with all the pedals flying into the air. It must have been a sea of sakura trees, he wagered. But then his ear picked up something in the air: a note. They were musical notes, produced from a violin. It faded in and out with strange accordance to the direction the leaves were going.
Len turned his head trying to catch the notes in the air, vaguely noticing his discomforts were ebbing away as he did so. He only caught bits and pieces of it though.
The recital sounded clearer as the wind changed direction. Whoever was playing had some talent. He caught the later segment of Romance Number in F. The techniques were passable, but with a little more practice and coaching it could be so much more. Most importantly, it sounded warm and passionate, and for no good reason or another, it reminded him of Hino.
Hino Kahoko was a talented violinist, much to his own surprise. After the incident at the third Musical selection where her "special" violin was destroyed, he took up coaching for her without even a second thought.
He didn't have an answer for his actions. He didn't want to answer for his actions. But he knew. He knew he was protecting her. He was protecting her from any possible allegation that might arise with her digressing performance. By becoming her coach, he could defer any accusation to a change of style and techniques. He was willing to take the brunt of the blame.
She might lack the necessary techniques to be considered an average violinist, but what she lacked in techniques she made up for in expression.
In the realm of music, any artist could have mastered certain techniques through time and practices with their instruments. But to recite a score as per the original author's intent involved articulation of one's passion or emotion through their techniques. As with any other work that required great coordination of muscles and mind, emotions tended to disrupt the perfectly harmonized balance.
It was only human nature. Even he himself had difficulties joining both elements together. From a physiological stand point, hormones tend to upset muscle movements. However, Hino Kahoko, was the other around. Time and again, she had proven that with what limited techniques she possessed, she was still able to touch her audiences on an emotional level. And through what limited time that he spent coaching Hino, she continued to improve upon her techniques while retaining her emotive expression.
But the real reason behind his fondness for Hino was her fortitude. Typical girls would have run away and seen from afar the cold glares that he had given them, but not Hino Kahoko. She persisted with her efforts to involve him with activities, whether it was with a group or just the two of them. And that brought some semblance of normalcy into his life at the same time opened up his heart for the possibility of…
Len's eyes blinked open as recital ended in with warm appreciation by its spectators. Cheers and applauses came in faint pulses as the wind carried it into the nights.
The performance was decent. No, it was more than decent, he corrected. It brought certain warmness to his heart that he could no longer ignore. The sudden, overwhelming urge to see Hino was gripping at his heart.
The brief respite had lessened the pain and the soreness to a more tolerable degree, and so he contemplated his options. He certainly remembered the accident and that was probably why he was here. How was he going to get to her? No, that was moving too fast. How was he going to get off the bed, first?
His eyes wandered the length of the bed and he rolled his eyes and smacked himself mentally for not taking notice of the adjustable buttons on the rail guard.
It took him a few minutes with his lame movements to figure out the controls. He erected the bed until the motor whined in complain, then it was just a matter of shifting his weight to be sitting upright.
Len relaxed against the bedding in a celebration of triumph for his achievement. He shook his head in amazement. It was funny, he thought, that he would ever get enjoyment out of something so trivial. Snap out of it, his mind scold, you still have to get up and find her.
Here goes…
He first disentangled his feet from the thin sheet at the foot of the bed. Breathing in as deeply as he could managed, preparing to swing his weaken limbs into action in anticipation for more pains surging through his body…
A loud clash of something heavy nearly startled him out of his skin. His eyes snapped open at the sudden clatter. A spasm just off to his neck prevented him from turning fully toward the source of the noise.
He rolled his head sideway to work the knot in the neck but as he turned his eyes fixated at a figure approaching from the shadow into the moonlight.
Len squinted his eyes at the slim figure as she stepped slightly under the soft glow. Her white, lithe dress swirled gently in the midnight breeze.
His jaw went slack as his eyes widened at the object of his affection – Hino Kahoko, descended like a goddess in a fairytale. Her eyes were drenched and she had a hand over her lips as she revealed herself in the pale light.
"Oh, Kami-sama, please don't let this be another dream, please don't let it be a dream…" Len watched in confusion as Hino's cried brokenly into her hands.
"Hino…" Len croaked. His voice was jagged; his throat was raw and dry.
"OOf…" He grunted almost painfully as Hino jumped and slammed him against the bed.
Len's first reaction was to push her away. He had never been in any physical contact with other females, but his hands stopped midway as he realized that Hino was trembling against him.
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Kahoko was scared. She had never been this scared her entire life. More scare then the time she was waiting for Len during his surgeries. More scared then the time when Len was slipping away from her at the ambulance.
She didn't know how long she could take any more of this torture. Every time she dreamed of his awakening, she would wake up with tears soaking her pillow.
The last thing she remembered was coming back from her weekly performance for the resident patients and the next thing she knew she was gaping at a Len sitting upright in his bed. She had no memory of her going through her sleeping routines.
Kami-sama, please let this one last just a moment longer. She begged.
This time was different, this Len in her dream actually called out to her name. Her body reacted and she practically flew into the air and slammed him against the bed. She was tired of grasping at thin air every time she woke up in the morning.
She held onto his shoulder like her life was depending on it. She buried her head at his shoulder. Her body trembled. She was afraid to let go. She was afraid that if she did, she would be waking up alone in her cot…Again.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Len didn't know what to do. He had never seen Hino this distressed before. His initial bewilderment quickly turned into dread. That was why he veered away from association with people and chose music instead. The increasing heaviness in his chest and the lopsided tempo of his heart were excruciating.
He would raise the barrier of coldness in the past but this was Hino. And he had already decided not to continue the path of self-destruction.
He searched within his soul, at a point in time when he was in a similar state and…there. His leaden arms once again stirred in motion, instead of distancing his "attacker", he embraced her from under her arms, remembering the instances where his mother was comforting him.
Len swallowed with visible effort, his last tenor sounded too raspy.
"Hino…" He tried again.
She suddenly jerked back away from him, her cherry eyes searching for his golden browns. Then her features blanched visibly. The slight trembles earlier were now developing into a full quiver and her hands fisted on the hem of his gown. In a voice barely above a whisper, she asked, "Tsu…kimori-kun?"
One of his eyebrows arched up in alarm. He didn't know what to say. One minute he was trying to get up to find her and the next she was holding him so tight that he could hardly breathe.
Remember what you said. The voice echoed in his head.
The destiny that he witnessed, the one with loneliness and self-loathing, the one without Hino in it was no longer the vision he would like to pursue. He wanted to achieve a different end this time. As much as he detested dealing with his emotions, he was willing to try for her.
He relented with a sigh through his nose.
And that was all the proof Kahoko need. Before Len could utter his response, she wept.
It was a heart torn, gut-wrenching sob. She cried with all the pent-up fears that she had for the past months. At last she was able to let it all come out freely.
Her cries was filled with such anguish and despair that even Len began to tear up.
He did the only thing that he knew, just like the way his mother used to sooth him when he was young. His hand stroked her head gently, "Daijobu-yo. It is going to be all right. It is all right now."
But that just made her cry even harder. She moved, onto the bed, legs straddled him, the entire length of her body press against his, her teary face at the crook of his neck. He was shocked at such display of affection from Hino. His body went rigid against her shuddering form.
Her tears drenched his neck, soaking his gown into his shoulder. She embraced him for the second time tonight, not out of relief but in need of physical contact.
By now Len was really troubled by her behavior. He tried calling out for her.
"Hino? Hino-san?"
But she tightened her hold on him. He felt her head shaking in movements of refusal.
Finally out of wit, he whispered, "Kahoko, what has happen? Please stop crying."
That elicited a response. She drew back slowly from him, breath still heaving and stared at him with her now wet and puffy eyes. Their noses were almost touching.
Their close proximity was making his vision of her out of focus, but Hino refused to move away.
"Say my name again." She whispered, her breathe hitching, "Please say my name again."
"Ka…hoko." He obeyed.
She looked so wan and fragile. He wanted to do anything to erase her pain away. Before he knew what he was doing, he tiled his head slightly to the side and grazed his lips to hers lightly.
Her lips were so warm and soft, he thought absently. By now he fully expected a slap across the face, according to the numerous soap dramas his parents were watching from time to time. At least as she was not crying her heart out any more.
But she stunned him by reciprocating. It came as a greater shock when she flicked her tongue on his lips.
He instantly drew away, but not before savoring a salty taste of light cinnamon and mint.
His head was spinning from the sensory overload and the implications. Hino didn't allow him time for further contemplation.
"Please, Len, I need this. I needed to feel you alive!" She pleaded. She was pleading for his consent with her heart, through her eyes and soul.
There was not a human being on this planet who could a refuse such request. Tsukimori Len was not able to be label as an imbecile.
"But I taste pretty horrible now." He blurted. The bitter taste stretched back to his throat.
Hino froze. Her body went stiff for a moment and then broke out laughing hysterically.
What is happening to Hino?!
One moment she wept like the world was going to end and now she was laughing like a mad woman. She broke his train of thought by holding his face in her hands.
"Tsukimori Len, you were in the land of the dead for six months. Now that you finally came back to me, do you think I would care for your bad breath?!" She demanded.
Her voice was harsh, almost accusing, but her eyes were joyous.
"Si…six months?!" Len mouthed, stunned.
Kahoko bridged the gap between them and kissed him. Her tongue sled through his parted lips and Len's own moved on its own to meet hers. The initial contact made his head instantly dizzy and at the same time produced a moan from her. She tasted more like peach and cinnamon, wincing inwardly at what he must taste like for her.
But Kahoko paid no mind. He was alive and awakened. Six month of excruciating wait was finally over. She wanted to hold him, kiss him, touch him and love him for his selfless sacrifice and for coming back to her. Let the moon be their witness, let the swirling cherry blossoms be their guests of honor. Let tonight be the night of their eternal bonding, with this ritual to oblige her vow.
Len was astonished by the renewal of energy surging through his body. He arms already found his ways behind her, pulling her ever closer. He had never kiss anyone like this before but their movements showed no awkwardness, like it was the most natural thing to do for them.
The passion intensified as their lips molded and tongues entwined. Hers caressed his and he devoured her hungrily like two long lost lovers. The exchange of passion and fluids were so intoxicating; when they finally had to break apart from lack of oxygen, both were lying on their sides, panting hard, their faces inches apart from one another. One of their hands found their way together between them.
This feels right. Here. With her.
Len thought drowsily. His eyelids were getting heavier. But he kept his eyes on her flushed feature, knowing full well that he was the cause for those luscious, swollen lips.
"Would you stay here with me for a moment longer?" Len whispered.
Hino must have consented, because the fully tilted bed was lowering back down, this little "work out" was draining him to the limit.
The last thing Kahoko remembered before she, too, surrendered to sleep were the joined hands between their bodies, warm and alluring. Their faint pulses of heartbeat through their digits were testaments of renewed life and promises of their future.
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