Author's Note: I know it's a loooooooong time past when I meant to update, everyone. I'm really REALLY, REALLY sorry. It's been utter Chaos in the home life, real life, whatever you want to call it. Just life. I've had the first half of this chapter done for a long while now and it's finally finished in whole. To be honest, what free time I have had has been largely writers blocked' regarding the continuation of this chapter, and seeing how it's all turned out now I'm happy I waited instead of rushing it out. Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, who added me to their favorite author list and added PC to their favorite stories' list – I hope you're all still reading and that this installment won't disappoint! This chapter is not yet beta read – but I wanted to get SOMETHING posted. It will under go clean up in the near future, sorry about that.
The real plot start's to immerge with this chapter. There are very subtle hints as to what is going on, but if I pointed them out it would ruin the fun. I'll start work on the next chapter ASAP, but before that I need to finish and post a late X-Mas present for my beta and Penguin, Ms. Megan. Review's are always, greatly appreciated as they let me know your not only still there, but interested in the story's progression. Thank you all once again and I'm so SO sorry tardiness of this chapter.
Oh, and on a small side note, Blackout is a song by Muse that fits oh so well with this chappy, and it also sort of fit as a title – or so I felt. Oh, and I have a last mintue plea for help from you all. See Chapter Five: Blackout is like, waaaay spaced out? How do I fix that? I've re-uploaded loads of times and none of it seems to make a diffrance. It loosk ust like I want to on Words but once I get it on here...Editing the document wont do any good either, since it wont let me make it right under the title, like I had it one the chapter before this one -sulk- Well, at any rate,
Happy New Year!
: )
Chapter Five:
Blackout
Rain is falling in rhythmic teardrops from a dust colored sky. If you listen carefully, you can hear their melody, like a cadence of piano keys with the wind serving as conductor. The drops which roll off the rooftop are the cello, those beads dripping from the end of rose petals, a music box chime. The leaves sing a chorus with each kiss of the ground, spreading ripples to echo a melancholy libretto.
Our roof stretches over the patio, keeping me dry. My skin in numb; I have been standing here so long that I feel the chill in my bones. By all logic, I would retreat into the house, where the fire is sending a glow thru the sliding glass door, but my legs are locked and feet frozen in place. It is colder inside that house than even Cocytus could ever be.
I reach a hand up, tucking my hair behind my right ear, but the wind protests and scarlet strands are once more set into sway. Compliant, I cross my arms over my chest, hands lightly touching my shoulder blades. It does nothing to block out the dampness in the air, but I know not what else to do. Any position my body takes seems uncomfortable and awkward.
The incense is still smoldering in my lungs, a scent which though sweet, brings a bitter bite to my stomach. The house has been packet full since late this afternoon, by your office friends, your co-workers, even the old woman at the market whom you bought from every Thursday. They loved you, and now mourn your passing to the tune the elements play.
All for you, mother.
The crash made evening news; mother of two killed in bank robber's escape. Ironic, that my past profession is what has torn us apart. It's a slap across the face form lady fate herself, vindictive bitch that she is. Your neck snapped from the impact, you were killed instantly. I should be grateful, I suppose, for there are ways far more debase to die. I should take comfort in knowing there was no pain.
I was at my apartment, when Botan arrived, unpacking some of the belongings brought from my room. She had already ferried your soul to reikai, appearing to me in the spirit form, boat ore, pastel kimono and all. There was nothing she could do. You cheated death once, by the grace of the Ankoku Kyou, and it is a rare thing indeed to dodge its grip twice.
For the last week days I have made preparations for your funeral. I will finish moving into my apartment tomorrow, without you here, this place is no longer home and I feel a great unease here when I stay. Yusuke has dropped by, more than once. Kuwabara, too, has come to give his condolences; it is only Hiei whose absence comes to mind. I left my window open last night, but like today, only this song of melancholy was there to keep me company. After a week's passing, I know the news has reached him. Yusuke sent word the same night I gave ID to the body. Hiei can no longer hide behind ignorance and I fail to think of a good reason for him not to show his face.
Strange how those times I felt able to bare the toil alone, Hiei was forever at my side. Watching over me when in the midst of battle, there when I did not ask it and a ghost when I cry for help. Hmm, but this is a different sort of support I need, and Hiei has never been comfortable in situations that cannot be mended by way of sword.
He not even managed it for Mukuro
Sucking in a breath, I bite my lip, expecting a sensation but finding my nerves numb to pain. I imagine skin once pink to have taken a blue hue, and absently consider a glance to my fingers to confirm the fact. The inner light of the house shifts in shadow's on my skin, making the blue look purple. The shadow's dance in retrace of their steps and the brief chatter still's, replaced by footsteps that are slow, but steady.
"…Kurama?" Yusuke's voice is so soft, I nearly pass it off as a stranger. The light has cast a glow that just touches soaked grass, exposing our shadow's to the earth. "Hey, buddy…why don't you come inside? You gotta be freezing your ass off out here." Footsteps are drawing closer and I wonder, just how long ago is it that Yusuke spoke, how long is it that he waited for a reply. Time seems to have truly escaped me, and I currently find it impossible to see the world in divisions of hours, minutes. There is only the then, which I am mourning, and the now within which I am entrapped.
"Standing out here, won't make him magically appear." There is a hand at my shoulder, I notice, at some point during its stay. I close my eyes at Yusuke's words, give a solemn smile and shake of the head "I am not waiting for him, Yusuke." The words trickle through my head, and I begin to doubt myself, arms falling with a sluggish shrug "Or, maybe at some point, I was, or will be…" I don't know what I'm doing here, anymore. The world in which I have grown comfortable in residing has been irreversibly altered, and nothing looks, tastes, or feels like it should.
I always knew the day would come when I would walk this world without you, but never did I think yours was a story to be cut sort such as this. I only ever pictured it in the happiest scenario, where death is more like slumber and you are old, warm and fulfilled. You would have lived to see your step-son graduate, see him marry, to have your house filled with grandchildren "I feel as though she has been stolen from me, Yusuke."
Just like Kuronue.
My throat tightens as images of blood and bamboo flood into mind, some pathetic sound pushed out my lips before I can even think to stop it, body shaken by a soundless sob. I move into myself on autopilot, head bowing and hand moving to clasp over trembling lips. Yusuke embraces me, supports me before I can give thought to desiring the affection or not. In the end I am grateful to have something tangible here, to help my mind from fading too far into the past.
I am no virgin to death, I have seen a creature brought to end in more demented ways than even the most horror happy mind can invent, the bulk of which were cut down by my own hand. To lose someone close to me…to have a death impact me…I have stood in this place just once before and once more I cannot find the exit. Again I am staring down at the one lock that cannot be broken, barred into the cage to which there, really, is no true escape. "There was nothing you could do."
"I know…"
There is a measure of uselessness in knowing this, a different sort of pain from which I felt with Kuronue. For with him, I made the choice to flee, to obey his voice and leave him to death. I had the power to do something then, but now I stare death down at another angle. You were taken from me mother, not before my eyes but behind my back, and I had not even a chance to take you back. Neither scenario leave's you room to breathe.
"There is nothing you can do either, Yusuke."
Yusuke's hand squeezes at my shoulder. I lift my eyes resolutely and meet his own and subtly shake my head, stopping the unspoken before it has breached the lips that had split to speak. "There is nothing anyone can do. I hope this is something you will never understand." With a small push against his chest I back away, making for the umbrella propped at the side of sliding glass doors, catching site of myself in its shadowed reflection. Inari, I am a site.
"Do you want some company tonight? Keiko wouldn't mind." Again I shake my head, as a rush of air from the unfolding umbrella sores between us, solitude the most comforting place in my mind. "I really am grateful, Yusuke…" I doubt whether I would have managed to stand upright without him here as a girder "but I've been surrounded by people all day. I need some time alone now…" I shuffle my feet and get some of the feeling back, manage to wrap still numb fingers around the umbrella's handle and step out of the shelter of roofing, pitter-patter of rain loader than ever now that it's echoing on the halo of cloth around my head.
"Tomorrow for lunch then!"
I turn half way, enough for one eye to be seen and to see, Yusuke's face possessing that startling level of sympathy and concern that I think he knows not himself capable. I'm not answering quick enough it seems, for he adds "Keiko will make it, so you don't have to worry about food poisoning, princess." and he smiles. It's contagious, for I myself can feel a slight lightness on my face as I return the gesture.
"Tomorrow for lunch, then."
I first into my pocket and palm keys that strike even this bitten skin to be cold, single out the needed key from the batch and give a last parting glance to Yusuke, whose footsteps I hear soon after I've turned my back to the house that can no longer be home. It's a frosted sort of fog that covers the streets on the drive to my apartment, a comfortable dwelling afforded me due to the sizeable income my step-father's employ has brought. It is nothing brazenly rich, but I am well off under this income, and the apartment reflects as much. For it is spacious and open, each room separate and not doubled together.
The wind and rain are in such a state by my arrival that even with the shield of an umbrella I manage to get wet. No lightning lights up the sky during the downpour, nor is the moon peeking out from under ebony-grey clouds to guide the way. I shake what moister from off the umbrella's skin that I can before leaning open the apartments door, slipping out of water washed loafers and strip soiled socks from off my feet. The door shuts and I have not a care to flick on the nearest light, nor the one after it, but proceed in darkness to the belly of the living room.
I walk straight into something solid and stumble a few inches across the new wood floors, managing to regain my footing before a full fall is made. There are many boxes lying around still, odds are I'll hit another before making it to the bathroom for a towel. A small glow of yellow light emits from the half open bathroom door, courtesy of the night light mother sneaked into a box of wash cloths and towels. It guides me to a rack of fluffed white that I use to ring out the water sitting in my hair. A bit of frazzled split ends greet me when I pull back the towel, the rest of my mane stringy and tangled in wind-blown wet knots.
It's the glow of the night light that captivates me now. I trail my hands over the detail off it, once white block that has gone slightly yellow with age, carved into a rose that is framed with the shape of an old church window. I was only five when brought it home for me – the 'I' that is human – the child who you thought had nightmares due to the dark. I could never tell you what those nightmares were truly made of…and you consoled me the only way you knew how. With unconditional love.
I press my finger against a small button on the bottom end of the plug and the light goes out, faster than any eye can blink. As fast a life is fragile. The door creaks a little as I make a return trip to the apartment's center, the towel which had rested along my shoulders rolls away as I shrug. I'm undoing the fifth button on the painfully breathable fabric of my top when something crunches and enters the skin of my foot. A second sprinkle of pain shoots up my tendons as I hunch over and dissect this something - which in all likelihood should be – ah, and it is. Glass.
I can see them now sparkling in the moonlight on the floor, as the wind moves blinding clouds away. It is this same wind which hit's my skin directly, through the uneven but massive hole in the window this glass is mate to. I rub the slick shard between my fingers for moment, leisurely discarding it while bringing the same digits to twin at the ends of my hair "A sad end for you who have encroached upon my den, tonight."
I wade across the room and drop my hand, feeling the vine's snake like progression from the seed held between middle and forefinger, twisting and blooming at its end. I stalk the box on which I had first tripped, which is not a box at all. My eyes have adjusted far past the point my human vessel can bare, for now I am Yoko in both voice and eyes, and now I see the arm protruding from a cloak covered lump meters away from the window. It lay twisted palm down above a nearly covered heard, pale but strong, elbow resting in a puddle of blood.
I wonder what motivated him to break into this particular home tonight and for the first time I wonder, what motivated that faceless murderer to take your life, mother. It's by the throat that I grab him, through the fabric of molding cloak. It slips a little as I gain leverage but I have little interest in identifying the face. For at this moment, the idea of indulging vengeful thrust drives me, and I will this body to be he who took your life. I fist my hand and the foliage sickle round it elongates, cutting a crescent window into the face of the fabric, wide enough that a single ruby eye becomes visible.
"Hiei!?"