Ghost Kiss

It was the night before they would be entering the long-awaited war with the enemy country, Konan. The future was unsure; hope was fleeting. There wasn't much riding on the war, only the impending loss that would inevitably occur, despite best efforts to only cause severe losses to the enemy country.

The young man, sitting in a tree, gazing out over the house, sighed. He felt unsure about the war, despite wanting to fight his greatest enemy and rival. He felt a great pull to make the man feel the pain that he had felt; make the man beg for mercy for the pain done to the blonde haired, cerulean blue-eyed, Seiryuu no Miko he held dear to his heart.

He sat back against the body of the tree, the branch bending moderately under the force of his weight as he shifted his position. Once comfortable, his gaze averted to the ground, travelling over the dirt road liberally strewn with pebbles and gravel. Slowly his gaze moved to a small quaint house sitting next to a field.

'Aniki.' He thought sadly. 'It must be nice to not have to worry about if you're going to live to see the next day of your life because you've agreed to fight for your country in a war. You're lucky, you have only peace. You deserved it and no one can take it from you, my dear brother.'

He rested his chin in his hands, mournfully staring out at the house. He touched two fingers to his lips, sadly smiling. 'The last one... I'm sorry I had to do that, but you deserved better than to be forced to live a life in war. You're too gentle for that.'

He shut his eyes remembering the last encounter and exchange he had with his twin. It had been in the least pleasant of circumstances, as one of their fellow colleagues had been at fault, hurting the elder of the twins. He had fallen, injured and would've been killed.

The younger of the twins didn't think he had done anything out of the ordinary. All he had done was what he would normally do, which was not let anyone hurt his best friend and his only remaining family.

In turn for all his twin had given him, the younger of the pair, did the only thing he could. When offered the mind-altering broth that controlled memories, he rejected it. Instead, he took the bokyoku and turned it against his twin. Ingesting the bitter, foul tasting liquid into his mouth, he held it there for a moment before force-feeding to his twin.

He could've rejected it with words. He knew he could've. But instead, he had wanted his twin to live peacefully. So, he had given that to his brother, stealing one last kiss before they would be eternally separated.

Now he sat, just watching. He had one last day before he would be joining Kutou on the western front of the battle between the warring countries, unsure of his future. He wanted once last chance to enjoy the peace he had given his twin in exchange for losing the one he held dearest.

Down his cheeks streaked, unbidden. He didn't notice and didn't stop them. He had no motive to; he had given up his one hope with a single lie. He could now only watch from a distance. His eyes sadden with remorse for what his choice had been. His heart heavy, but something felt elated, knowing the only one he was truest to had a second chance for a better life that they had both been violently deprived of so early with no retribution.

The night breeze lightly kissed his bare arms and his damp cheeks. His eyes fluttering shut; relishing in the sensation that was no so foreign to him. The breeze reminded him of his brother's arms, snaking around him, holding him close. The moisture of his tears sliding down his cheeks, touching his lips, erected memories of his twin's sweet tasting lips covering his in a gentle mind-numbing kiss.

It was fleeting, as the breeze left, leaving him alone again, with only the ghost of a memory.

Peacefully at rest a serene smile over his expression as he slept naïve and ignorant to the world that surrounded him. Nothing pierced his conscious violently. His subconscious however was another story. It was plagued daily with the pain of no memory and the will to know what wasn't known. It couldn't get past the fogged of the medicinal induced amnesia. It floundered in the face of rose-coloured glass that had become his world for life through the swift, gentle force-feed of foul tasting liquid.

His world was nothing more than a vain flounder, as he tried to remain a float and not drown in the pain that came with it. He had what he wanted, but at a price to everything else. This he didn't know. What he knew was the soft anguishing pain he felt occasionally, as though something was crying, but it wasn't him. He felt it tear him up.

He broke out of his peaceful sleep, as a cry trembled over his lips.

He didn't know why, nor have any vivid images pound his conscious as he slept. All he had was the cry of pain. He sat up, touching a hand to his forehead, wiping away the ever-present perspiration that heavily laden it. He sighed, bringing his hand down; gazing at the moisture that dripped from it, staring with confused eyes.

'It's happening again…' he thought sadly. 'Why does it not go away? I know it's a dream because I wake up, feeling the same thing every single time. Why am I feeling this? What have I done? Nothing that I remember…'

Unconsciously he touched his fingers of his right hand to his lips, not knowing why he did so.

He could feel lips touching his, sweet tasting ones. He didn't know who's they were, he just felt them. The touch was so gentle. The sensations fleeting. Yet, at the same time, he felt a wave of unheeded melancholy, as though his hope was lost and that there was an unsure future.

He blinked, feeling tears touch his cheeks, falling in two identical thin rivers. He touched a hand, taking the moisture from his face. He blinked once more, staring incredulously at the tears glistening in the light of the moon that filtered through the thin drapes hanging in his window.

'Why am I crying? I don't feel sad… Why?'

He could only ask himself that over and over, as he felt the night breeze filter in, caressing his body, embracing him. He sighed, shut his eyes, feeling it. It ghosted over his body, once more a fleeting memory and sensation coming and leaving.

He had nothing more than his blissful ignorance and the chance to wonder why the breeze made him feel like he had been embraced with gentle arms. He wondered he felt kissed, even though it was a fantasy to his mind.

He sighed, looking up, the breeze no longer rustling the thin drapes of his window. They hung calmly, the moonlight softly filtering in, unchanged. A faint shadow hung on the edge of the curtain, vanishing a second later with the ephemeral night wind.