My Dearest Morphine

Chapter 2: Powerless


There is a lot to a name, the way people pronounce it and how they react when they hear it. To mine, they all acknowledge my presence as if I were not a human being. I truly appreciated the respect but sometimes, it is overwhelming.

I wrote books, books that are contemplative in nature, inquiring about nature and the world around us. They called it philosophy. I called it thoughts. Either way, people respected me for them. They called me an enlightened thinker, a real sage with centuries worth of knowledge. I knew that my soul was old, that it was one way or another incarnated once or several times. They praised me for my contributions to the world but they never considered everything that I've been through. Hundreds of years of happiness and suffering, of wisdom and foolishness, of love and lost.

My soul was old; it led me to more mature people. Even as a child, I did not get along with those of my own age. It was almost comical now that I think about it but my childhood was a rough time. In fact, so rough that I have suppressed the memories away. It seemed like I had always known what the world was like and what I would become as an adult. And I knew, when I was five years old, that I would meet her.

She was, like all other people whom I spoke with, older than I was. Her tall and slim figure didn't appeal to me although it did to every other man. Our souls were attracted to each other. She had asked me whether we have met before – and at that instant, I knew that we belonged together, in a family. There was an eternal bond, something that I had never experienced before. She was my first and only love, my patience in nervous times, and my logic in hysterical times.

Her name is Kaho Mizuki and she was my wife. We had gotten married when I was eighteen and she twenty-eight. We both knew that we would never been accepted together in society because of our strange ways and difference in age but apart, we shone the brightest of all. For that reason, she never adopted my last name. Confidently, she had claimed that with her own identity, she could get to more places.

"Where have you been?" She had a charming voice that had a strong commanding tone, far from being syrupy.

"Working late," I lied innocently as to shrug it off. She already knew my thoughts. "Expect a visitor later this weekend."

We never said much usually but that day was especially quiet. She knew that I went to a psychiatrist. She acknowledged the slowly-developing problems in our marriage and how we were unconsciously falling apart. She did not, however, want to fix it like I did. 'Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be,' she had said without any regret. She was always careful around others but never around me. Countless times, she had hurt my feelings without showing any regret or guilt. She was such an innocent soul though; I could not blame her. I was always a fool in love.

I let my fingers tangle in her smooth chestnut hair. It became a habit as of lately because I was always lost for words. With one arm, I embraced her from behind and felt her body slump as she sighed. I was disappointed but not discouraged.

"What do you want to eat for dinner?" I asked kindly.

"Mhm," she murmured as she pulled away, "fine pastries."

She was a fan of sweet things: sweet tea, pastries, bonbons, perfumes, and flowers. She smelled and consumed everything sweet yet I rarely felt anything sweet from her. Certainly, she was passionate and loving, but sweet she was not. But lately, she seemed extremely withdrawing, as if she found out something that effaced our affections.

"I will bake for you then."

"Oh, good."

Honestly, I had never baked before.


Her fingers traced lightly on my naked shoulders. She was so hesitant that her fingers trembled.

"Are you cold?" I asked worriedly.

"No, no, of course not," she replied with certainty in her voice.

As I saw her moving with more difficulty, I unbuttoned my own shirt for her and embraced her once again. She didn't withdraw; it was worse: she tensed. Her usually smooth skin became infested with goosebumps and her usually flexible muscles rigid like rocks. A sigh escaped my lips.

"Go take a warm bath. I will go to bed now," I stated calmly, attempting to hide my disappointment at her.

I wanted to make love to her, just to prove our love. It had been three months already since she had declared her distress. I still remembered that day, when she suddenly rushed into my study and exploded emotionally. "I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry, Eriol. It's not you. It's not me. It's just that us… it'll never work. It just… can't. It would be fundamentally wrong and I know that you are a man of fundamentals. You would disapprove of this!" It was like a riddle that prodded at my brain every second. What did she mean? What did she find out? Had we been mutual enemies in our past lives? Failed lovers?

Her night robe trailed on the carpeted floor as she strolled to the luxurious bathroom. Even when she had been so tensed a minute before, she could become more graceful than a swan. The door clicked softly and water began to rush from the faucet.

I still sat on our bed, our large and lonely bed, in half-naked defeated glory. It was truly ending. However, a glimmer hope sparked in my chest. She could fix everything. Tomoyo Daidouji, the renowned pain healer that many sought after. I had her to my disposition and could have never been happier in my life.

I, Eriol Hiiragizawa, am a very wise man, capable of countless powers and tricks of the mind but never had I been able to heal someone from their pains, least of all my wife's. I always caused the pain or received it harshly like I did from Kaho. I was definitely wise but sometimes, I simply did not know what to do. Tomoyo Daidouji's name simply called out to me. It was like Kaho's soul called to me, although in a completely different fashion. I truly hoped that she would become our savior.


Sunday had come faster than ever expected. Silence reigned everywhere in our mansion. It was almost depressing. The much too giant house was always empty because we preferred no other company than our own. So having a visitor, and not to mention a healer, coming sparked some strange excitement and curiosity in Kaho.

Tomoyo Daidouji had arrived, dressed in her unusually casual white blouse and blue skirt. The last I had seen her she wore an uncomfortable gray suit. Perhaps it was the fatigue that dragged down her smile at the time. That Sunday, however, she was bright and almost angelic, as if she was sent from God (whom, of course, neither Kaho nor I believed in; but it was assuring to assuming Its presence).

"Please take a seat," I gestured to the velvet couch politely.

"Thank you."

She folded her skirt neatly as she sat down, as if expecting to stay hours to discuss. And she was probably right.

"Let us begin then," she started calmly with a smile. She held out her hand slightly and looked at me in the eye. "I often hold hands with my other patients to help them speak. It supposedly comforts them."

It wasn't a command like the ones that Kaho often gave me. It was merely a suggestion, a statement without any profound implications. But somehow, I felt drawn to her beige porcelain hand. I held it tightly. I had never held someone's hand before other than Kaho's. It was a strange feeling, a new kind of texture of skin against mine. I felt a small surge of power and I smiled to myself. She was a pain healer indeed.

As a few minutes of silence passed where both of us were reflecting, I had forgotten to tell her that Kaho was about to show up.

A tall, slim, and curvy silhouette and shadow appeared in the long hall. High heels clicked on the marble floor. It was undoubtedly Kaho for no one else was in the house and no one would dare to take their shoes off in the Hiiragizawa mansion.

"Who are you?" Kaho shot across the hall as her slow walk transformed into quick steps. She was certainly expecting a psychiatrist of some kind but I didn't mention to her that I had contacted a healer. She never liked the idea of my attachment to ancient magic. "Why are you holding my husband's hand?"

At first, I felt Tomoyo's hand loosen a bit but she still held my hand softly.

"I would like to hold yours too, Mrs. Hiiragizawa, I presume," Tomoyo smiled gently. Then she turned to me and gave me a strange look. "You did not tell me that this was a double consultation, Mr. Hiiragizawa. I would have brought other preparations."

"No matter, Tomoyo."

I felt Kaho's glare on my back. Was she angry that I called Tomoyo by her first name? It was customary for someone of my rank for I was elder to everyone else in society. But perhaps Kaho interpreted it as a close relationship. It was strange that Kaho would forget the fact that I had only met Tomoyo two days ago.

"Please come and sit with us," I looked at Kaho and welcomed her at an intimate distance from me.

She begrudgingly sank into the velvet couch and looked down at the bristles of the carpet on the marble floor.

But Tomoyo made an unexpected move; with the same hand that held mine, she extended her fingers over Kaho's hand. I felt a warm sensation through my arm, an almost numbing but comfortable feeling.

And as I felt Kaho's posture soften beside me, I knew that Tomoyo's magic had already begun to melt that stone heart.


Author's Notes: Yeah, the chapters alternate between Tomoyo and Eriol's POV's. There's really two part to the complete story and although it's moving kinda slowly right now, it'll go faster later on. Once again, I just want to remind you that I wrote this for NaNoWriMo, so of course, nothing is perfect. It was very spur-of-the-moment writing and even if I try to edit it, I can't change the plot much.

Anyhow, please review, it's the only thing that keeps me going!