Erebus on the Cusp of Dawn
by Hic Iacet Mori
Shadows chase each other as you sleep, as you dream, as you grapple for light amidst the infinite darkness of the night. Take heart, close your eyes, morning would break soon—until then, believe, the moon is waiting with you.
A cabbage appeared on Itachi's headstone a month after his move.
Sasuke had woken up before sunrise, that day. Contrary to what most people thought, he enjoyed waking up early, though it was rare that he woke up before the sun, like now. The crispiness of the early morning air was always chilly and sharp—it made him more aware of the blood running through his veins, of his heart pumping unceasingly throughout his body, of his lungs swelling with clean air, of his nerves singing, of living, of being alive.
His body thrummed with life and it was an exhilarating feeling.
The world was silent save for the music of the larks, the early risers reminding him of silent gypsies stealing down the foggy paths on their way to freedom. The early morning colors were muted, not harsh or obscene, kind to eyes still hazy from the light shades of dreams.
This was the world on the edge of sunrise and Sasuke liked it.
When he woke up, the sun had yet to rise and he could feel a palpable excitement adding colors to his cheeks. The thought of climbing up flashed through his mind. Whenever he could, he liked to watch the sunrise from the sloping roof of his house—from there, he had a clear view of the sleeping town, of the mountains in the distance, of the sun slowly extending its arms in a yawning stretch as it climbed between the mountains in a burst of colors. It was fascinating, the way the horizon changed—it was the visible spectrum in motion, an explosion of vibrancy, a choir of hues. It was a burst of choruses to herald the dawn.
If only Nii-san could enjoy it...
Since their parents' death, Sasuke and Itachi had never watched the sunrise together. It wasn't a conscious choice at all—as years went by, his brother just slept in more and more, only perfectly awake by the time the sun was setting. Itachi had become the night owl to his morning lark—morningale, as his brother deadpanned—and Sasuke asked once if he was insomniac. His brother had simply waved it off and ate his rook, and he had been distracted by the smirk on Itachi's face at the blatant cheating that he had to throw a dango stick and yell.
On a whim, he decided to watch the sunrise beside his brother. A scalding cup of chocolate—unsweetened as it should be—and he was soon by the coat racks, wrapping his brother's long coat over his dark blue shirt and sweatpants. He pocketed his keys and closed the door behind him, closing his eyes against the crisp dawn air. A deep breath and he exhaled, smiling a little, and then he made his way to the cemetery. There were no gypsies along the way as the fog curled around him so he skipped a little on the empty path, imagining how a gypsy might act. He settled to his slouch after a couple of skips, thinking perhaps he should lay off the book he was currently reading.
The short walk was a blur of half-formed images, real and imagined—he didn't really care on mornings like this because he felt the sun would rise on a child the same way it would on his dreams—and then he was pushing open the steel black gates with the crest of his family in the middle. He walked past dying trees, dead trees, trees still holding on to their dying leaves, until he reached the farthest corner of the cemetery were a lone tree remained proud with its colorful red leaves.
It was then that he paused, and rubbed his eyes. He blinked for good measure.
He could see it, a couple of feet away. An object sitting on his beloved brother's headstone, a round and green object that wasn't supposed to be there. It wasn't there yesterday when he came from school, and it wasn't there yesterday when he left for home either.
He reached the headstone, eyes steady. He waited for it to disappear the way the fog did.
It didn't.
His eyes—trained, alert—darted around, looking for hints to this oddity. Finding nothing immediately strange, he then turned his dark eyes on the vegetable.
Cabbage. Sasuke knew Itachi loved cabbages, and he was certain Itachi would fall madly in love with this one, or as mad as any Uchiha would allow himself to—in retrospect, Sasuke realized that his ancestors were notorious for their madness, and he winced at his brother madly in love that way before shaking off the thought.
The cabbage was a beautiful leafy green, round like the globe on his work table. It could pass for an enormous green rose fit for a giant. Upon further inspection, Sasuke realized that it had been sitting there for quite some time.
Drops of dew sparkled on the leafy vegetable, reflecting the rays of the rising sun.
Somehow, that he didn't see the cabbage after coming from school didn't surprise him. What surprised him, though, was the sadness that washed over him. Whoever felt sad over a missing cabbage?
His brother, perhaps, but that wasn't the point.
Deciding, he went to sleep early and woke up the same time he did the previous day. Passing through the ghosts of the quiet town and the cemetery, his eyes widened when he saw a cabbage on his brother's headstone once again. He felt a shiver run through him which he recognized faintly as excitement. Of all things to feel, he felt excited with this mystery—
His life was really dull.
He realized it might just be a fluke, though. Perhaps someone was staying nearby, leaving a cabbage for some reason. Perhaps it wasn't meant for Itachi.
He was sure it wasn't almost two weeks later.
It was fast becoming an obsession.
The cabbage, it was a symbol. And a powerful one at that—or so Sasuke told himself. Even if it was a bloody ridiculous thought.
Whoever left the cabbage was close enough to know his brother's favorite food. Uchiha Itachi, as a rule, rarely showed any human inclinations outside of his interactions with his younger brother, and this included eating. He had seen it firsthand that time his brother attended a PTA meeting back when he was in middle school—Itachi had stayed on his seat for eight hours listening to parents and teachers rant at each other, not once shifting on his chair unless necessary. Not during the fifteen-minute break, the thirty-minute snack break with cartoony cupcakes and diluted punch, the next fifteen-minute break, the hour-long lunch break, and the last fifteen-minute break. His brother didn't eat anything, didn't stand up, didn't speak unless a teacher addressed him—and it was only because of Sasuke himself that Itachi was persuaded to eat and drink and go to the bathroom, and only when they were alone.
It boggled his young mind, then, but he had come to accept it.
Itachi wasn't one to show preference over anything—it was another human inclination and, like he told Sasuke once, could be a weakness used against him. His brother was so guarded around everyone else, quietly protective of him when they were in the company of people... he was his brother's weakness and it made Sasuke wonder, now. Would someone use him against his brother
Itachi mentioned once in passing that even something as simple as a photograph, if it was dearly loved, could be used against a person at the right place and the right time. Did his brother keep a photo of him? It sounded too sentimental for Itachi...
A light slap of wind on his cheek made him blink. He looked down again. The cabbage looked back with nonexistent eyes.
The thought that there could be someone out there who had been close enough to know how crazy Itachi was for cabbages...
Sasuke didn't know what to feel.
One thing he was certain of—he wanted to know who this person was.
From the amount of dewdrops the cabbage collected everyday, Sasuke surmised that the secret donor dropped by either around four or five in the morning. With that in mind, he went to bed earlier than usual to wake up in time to see his brother's mysterious acquaintance. He hadn't much to do anyway.
Acquaintance... He refused to call that person friend. Uchiha Itachi was too distant and detached from everyone else to put up with a friend, and as far as he was concerned, the only person who his brother could count as his friend was him, Sasuke.
It made him sad and relieved at the same time.
He woke up to dark clouds rolling on a gray night sky. Sasuke thought it was the perfect night to track a person, when the world was bathed in shadows and the only light around was from the reluctant glow of the moon hidden behind the clouds. With only a flashlight as his guide, Sasuke completed the ten-minute walk from his house to the Uchiha cemetery wrapped in a black trench coat over his black turtleneck sweater and black pants.
He felt like a cliché dressed in such colors for snooping—he can't help it, though, black was a common color in his closet.
He thought of scaling the imposing black steel gates, but a glance at its eleven-foot structure was enough to stamp down the asinine notion. He bypassed the massive gates instead—the hinges of the gate were rusty and he didn't want to risk anyone, most of all the cabbage bearer, hearing its whine—rounding the ivy-twined walls until he reached the edge of the east walls.
He looked down and, after a short search, located the hole in the wall conveniently covered by overgrown grasses he had found on a bored jaunt. With hardly a thought, he dropped on all fours and crawled forward, inwardly surprised that his lean frame could pass through. This thought abruptly died when he met resistance—his hip was stuck in the hole and he stared down, incredulous. He wondered how the hell it happened when his shoulders were broader, and then he remembered the cellphone, the batteries, and the length of rope inside coat pockets conveniently over his hips. Taking a deep breath, he gingerly twisted himself, cursing lowly with every pause, until he was facing the starless sky.
He spent a moment to admire the night, lying on his back. His reverie broke when a sliver of the moon peeked through the clouds, glaring at him for lazing. Briefly closing his eyes, he pushed himself until he was upright—he raised his flashlight and looked for the nearest part of the wall with the most cracks. Finding it seconds later, he curled his left fist and punched.
The hole significantly larger, he braced his hands behind him and pulled himself inward, grunting until he was completely inside. He stood up and absentmindedly patted himself down—his eyes took swift glances around and, finding nothing out of the ordinary, stealthily made his way to his brother's headstone.
He stopped. He glared.
A fresh head of cabbage gleamed white under his hand.
Crawl past the shadows through the little patch of light, dance under the reflection of the hidden sun's smile.