The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

"Well?"

Tadase hesitated, clenching his fists and trying with every ounce of determination he could muster not to jump as the heavy wooden doors swung shut behind him. Even in the darkness the gleaming, piercing eyes of his host still watched on whilst all the world passed swiftly beyond the mansion walls.

For a moment, Tadase almost felt like turning on his heel and pounding at the doors. He felt like bolting. He felt the silence press in heavily on his ears; the atmosphere thicken; he fought to swallow soundly as every word dried up and died upon his tongue because for all his strength, there was something about this place - this man - that shook his very being to the core. Perhaps it was the way the fortune-teller looked at him - stared unblinking at him as though he could delve into his very head and read his thoughts aloud at will - or perhaps it was the distant, detached sort of way he dithered here like a departed soul still bound to these walls; faded about the edges; out of place and out of time…

But whatever it was, all Tadase knew was that it set him on edge and that he did not like it. Tsukasa to him was like a cautionary tale - a trickster in a children's novel - who knew far more than he ever should about the inner workings of another's mind and, again, Tadase delayed his coming into the darkened room, afraid to linger too close to the flame.

"Well, Tadase?" said the trickster once more. "What brings you here on this fine evening?"

And reluctantly, thinking back at last to the very reason he had come here, Tadase swallowed his pride.

"I… I have come to beg."

The subtle twinkle in the fortune-teller's eye flickered almost imperceptibly, the starlight failing overhead for just a moment before managing to regain composure.

"'Beg'?" Tsukasa repeated faintly. If Tadase had been more himself, he might have thoroughly enjoyed the sight of this strange man looking so at a loss for once, but, as it was, he was far too busy nursing the last poor remnants of his failing pride. "But Tadase," Tsukasa said; "never have I asked you to beg of me. My good man, I am ever at your service."

Truthfully, Tadase didn't quite know what to make of that. He eyed the curious man sceptically and, though he sought long and hard for some kind of counter to this statement, he found none. Besides, he had not come here on this night to stir up old grief. No. He had come to bow his head and… Well… What else he could not be sure, but it seemed that there was something about this place - about this home; this man; this otherworldly weave of constellations - that seemed to call to him on those darkest nights when neither moon nor stars appeared before him; when the only light left to console the weariness in his heart was the dying flame of his own ambition. And now that the hearth was cold and the galaxy twinkled softly overhead, Tadase thought now that maybe, just maybe, he could afford to lower himself before the very type of trickster he had been warned about all his life.

Tadase finally crossed over the threshold of the observatory, immersing himself bodily in the dusk and beginning breathlessly; "Mr Amakawa… I'm afraid I have indeed come to beg of you. I'm afraid I must ask of you just this once for assistance."

Tsukasa raised a curious eyebrow. "Desperation truly has hit you hard, Commander, for you to come to me."

The Commander ignored him. "The last time I was here, sir, you said that the stars should run their course." he said. "That the King's interference would only hinder them." And he paused, searching the fortune-teller's face intently for any sign of recognition. All Tsukasa offered in return was a subtle nod - an almost non-existent slight of the head - but Tadase caught it and, for some reason he could not explain, a flare of annoyance rose up within his chest. Perhaps, he'd think in hindsight, this whole 'begging' business had gotten the better of him. Or perhaps his body was simply rebelling against such damage to his already deflated ego. But, either way, he could not turn back now;

"It was you who led me to the realisation that the King's daughter was entwined in a buccan hunt for fairy stories. And, though I doubted you, it seems now that your words held more truth than I might have wished." he went on. "I believe the stars have run amok quite enough for my liking, Tsukasa." he said. "The King's daughter is still out there, but, for all our efforts, she cannot be found. And…" (He swallowed thickly); "And I will therefore offer you anything in return for whatever these stars might tell me."

As soon as the words left his lips, Tadase slunk back, wincing, bracing himself for the inevitable humiliation that would come, yet, unbelievably, he was met with nothing but silence. If anything, Tadase had thought that the man might look on him and laugh. He had expected an air of victory; an unbearable triumph. He had prepared himself for boasting and gloating and prideful, long-winded monologues all inevitably rounding upon how glorious a day it must have been for one so spiritually closed to finally come to see the light… But no. Tsukasa did none of that. Perhaps because he undoubtedly saw then that this was the Commander's last port of call. His last avenue. Last hope.

There was a moment of uneasy quiet. If anything, it took a long moment to sink in before Tsukasa's face fell. "Oh…" he whispered, far more gently than Tadase had ever heard him. It was almost unbearable, in fact, to feel such pitiful eyes land upon him, as strong and mighty a soldier as he was. "Oh, my dear Commander… Waiting for you I might have been, yes, but this? This I did not expect..."

"Oh spare me!" Tadase cut in impatiently. "It is all I ask and nothing more. Tomorrow we set sail once again and the irony is not lost upon me, I assure you! The déjà-vu is far more than I can bear, so I'd appreciate it greatly if we could get straight to the point and be done with it!"

"I see." Tsukasa sighed. He gestured towards the little table behind him where a delicate china pot of tea was still steaming even in the dim light. Tadase denied it. He watched impatiently as the fortune-teller strolled towards it. "I do apologise, Commander. Truly you have my sympathy. " said Tsukasa at last, shaking his head solemnly as he poured himself a cup of strong-smelling tea and set the teapot down beside a deck of cards. "These must be dark times indeed. But I understand your frustration. To be forced to chase the light of the stars - well…" - And he took a short sip for himself - "I bow my head to you, Tadase. It cannot be easy for one so bold to set your faith in my methods."

"I do not like it." Tadase said stiffly in response. "But I also do not like pirates."

"But, lest we forget, Her Highness is little more than a pirate herself now." Tsukasa replied, pacing aimlessly now. "Although I admit that such a word must here be applied fairly loosely." And he cast the Commander a subtle, sideways glance. Tadase was biting the inside of his cheek, his brows knit tight together, his mouth set in a firm little line… "Oh…" Tsukasa breathed. A mischievous, knowing sort of smile spread across his pale face. "You don't deny it?"

Tadase hesitated perhaps too obviously. There was an edge in his voice. Beneath the many frills at the hem of his sleeves, his knuckles were turning white. "Do not think I'm blinded, Tsukasa. I was there. I was beside her when she chose her alliance."

Oh, and it was still all so vivid in his mind. The cry of the gulls. The blur of pink. The splash of the sea and the sting of the salt upon his cheeksー

"But it doesn't matter!" He shook himself fiercely of the thought. "Pirate or not, I have been entrusted to-"

"To what?" Tsukasa interrupted in a sly, prying sort of tone Tadase did not like at all. "To find her? To find Her Highness and nothing more? Forgive me, Commander, but I had heard you'd quite given up on this little search for her. No, I had believed you were far more anxious on finding them."

"I-"

"You really wish to find her? Even knowing - even remembering - just how she chose to betray your trust?"

"I…"

And, humiliatingly, Tadase found he had no more to say. Tsukasa watched him carefully as he fell forlorn into silence.

"Tadase…" He said, his voice oh-so gentle as the soft whispering of water over stones, swiftly-flowing; "Why does your heart waver so?" The fortune-teller was watching him intently, barely blinking, scrutinising his every hesitation. Overheard the enchanted stars twinkled peacefully on until all the observatory grew bathed in a gentle, yet deceptively calm glow that seemed to wash over the soldier's heart, soothing over his soul until, after a while, he uttered;

"It does not."

Yet even to the Commander himself, it sounded unconvincing - like the piteous puttering of a candle failing, weak and cold in the breeze - and, all of a sudden, to Tadase it felt as though some great weight had all at once fallen heavily upon his chest. His shoulders slumped beneath it. His breath shook. His chest felt fit to cave, though fight it he tried, and yet he could not explain it. After all… His heart of all - so strong, so steadfast - would never falter…

His heart - his loyalty - it lay as sure as ever towards the bright light of justice, yes…

But to Amu? To the King..?

Perhaps, now that he thought about it, it might have been best to focus his attention on Her Highness after all, for even as the memory of her father's face drifted to the fore of his mind he realised a new sense of frustration he'd never known before. It was burning. It was crushing. Tadase thought briefly back - back to those long afternoons spent sat in solitude in his study, silently reliving every minute of his short encounter with Kairi Sanjou until the entire incident seemed little more than one indecipherable mess; a haze; a blur and nothing more. He might as well have dreamt it, he thought, but no. The King's advisor had made enough of an impact on this Commander - had shaken him to the core quite enough - for that afternoon to have been unmistakably real. The King's assumptions of his character had run quite deep… And whatever new 'plans' that his advisor had alluded to had kept him restless for long enough.

And so, his heart undeniably heavy, Tadase was perhaps for the first time forced to admit that perhaps there was something of note in the fortune-teller's teachings.

"Tsukasa…" he said eventually and, though his gaze had fallen firmly towards his feet, his companion could sense that the brightness in his eyes had at last begun to dim in despair. "You said to me once that I should not risk my livelihood for the sake of Her Highness… That I shouldn't stray from my rightful path. That I should not give up my duty nor myself. No matter what may lay before me…"

"That I did." the fortune-teller agreed. "And will you?"

Tadase didn't answer.

"Tell me," Tsukasa said softly; "have you not noticed that, whether by loathing or longing, she has always been a part of you?"

"She is a pirate-"

"She occupies your every thought. Does she not?"

"But I cannot sit by and watch, Tsukasa!" Tadase cut in. "I cannot stand idly by and let this go undealt with! This is a breach of the peace! This is injustice! This is piracy!"

"But, piracy or not, Commander, do you not think it unwise to steer from one's destined path?"

"Yet you said it yourself!" Tadase burst out; "The stars - they move, Tsukasa, if you believe in that sort of thing! Surely routes can be rewritten?"

"Ah…" uttered the fortune-teller, though perhaps with a hint of hesitance. His head tilted towards the roof of his grand observatory, his brows creased subtly, his face shadowed in the dim light until even the gentle hues of his irises no longer twinkled like a thousand stars against the fabric of this faux, yet flawless night. He breathed slowly; "The routes may be rewritten, yes… But to what end, I ask? Understand that the stars will ever seek in motion towards their rightful course. I have warned you once before - of the unforeseen consequences of interference-"

"I don't understand you…" the Commander whispered, shaking his head and turning his face away from the constellations. "You or your nonsense..."

And, as the starlight left his cheeks and the shadow of the night fell over form, Tsukasa looked over at him and sighed, for, with that, he sensed his hesitance - his grief and all his mind's unrest - and he knew then that the soldier was merely chasing hope where clearly he believed in none.

"Your thoughts are too unclear, Commander." Tsukasa said at length. "And I am afraid I cannot help you see the light through clouded eyes. That is a task you must alone accomplish - a feat that only you yourself may overcome."

He paused, just a little relieved that he was met with only silence and that Tadase chose not at that point to pick up a fight in protest, and brought the man over to his little desk where he forced a dainty cup of tea into his hand and watched silently as he took a sip. Tadase's eyes dulled, but his expression softened. He swirled the liquid in his hand and took a breath of steam. He smelt rosehip and a hint of hibiscus and was reminded fondly of his mother's herb garden and of the pink and rose-red buds in bloom that lined the mansion grounds, twisting and twirling against bright white trellises and fair green hedges. His body relaxed. Finally, for the first time in many days, he felt his heartbeat ease and rest to its normal pace and he became overwhelmed by an enchanting sense of calm that many men have sought, yet fewer have ever realised. And all the while Tsukasa watched him keenly and waited patiently and, when it seemed to him that his bewitchment had fully sunk into this troubled soul, the fortune-teller breathed almost imperceptibly beneath the glowing night and held his head aloft. Far above those little fireflies still danced as though lit by imperishable flame, weaving star-crossed lines about the inky blue, dazzling far-flung galaxies whirling within lilac eyes.

"Whatever ails you, Tadase, may be such an ailment that only you may heal." he whispered. "And I cannot promise you that it is in your fate to find a cure, but for now I ask you… What do you see Commander?" He said at last. And, at the other man's astonished silence; "What do you see when you look at the stars?"

Tadase, who had grown perhaps far too drawn into his own inner turmoil, blinked as one roused from a deep, deep dream. For a moment he felt cold - shocked, brought back with a snap! into reality once again and, though he still marvelled at the same sights; smelt the same tea; felt his subconscious soothe, growing awash a great calm as though under some spell at the sound of the fortune-teller's voice; he felt at once as if he'd been dragged bodily back into existence, but he remembered his predicament and he remembered his place and so, sheepishly, he shoved away all remnants of the curious astrologer's charm and turned his head towards those twinkling lights. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

"Dust." he uttered finally. "Infinitesimal specks of dust." Tsukasa sent him a sideways look, but it was unreadable - the very definition of stoic - so Tadase said nothing of it. He continued on, his jaw tight, his voice slowly fading, losing its lustre in the void of empty space all about them. "That's all there is to it. Particles of lingering light trying in vain to break through the barren darkness… But to no avail. Drifting without aim. Suspended. Lost - caught helplessly amidst the dark…"

And, again, all faded into silence. Tadase's gaze fell and settled on a spot by his feet where the reflected stars faintly smudged the polished floorboards. Then, after some thought, Tsukasa chuckled;

"Dust?" He repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Huh… Well, that's bleak outlook on this world if ever I've heard one."

"What would you have liked me to say?" Tadase shrugged. "Should I recite poetry next time perhaps? Sing a song? Your head may forever be in the clouds, Tsukasa, but mine is not. Personally I have always preferred the clear light of day."

"Ah," Tsukasa said, though Tadase wasn't quite convinced by his tone. "And therein lies the problem, Commander. Therein lies the ailment." He strode to his desk, set down his tea and one by one he swept across the great expanse of the observatory, extinguishing in a puff of smoke all the little candles dotted about the room and with every little lantern snuffed from existence his eyes seemed to grow all the brighter in the dark. "Your eyes are not quite trained, Tadase, if all you notice is the contrast between light and dark."

Tadase frowned. He set his empty cup on the nearest table and looked about blindly in the dark. "What do you mean?"

From somewhere in the distance, Tsukasa's voice echoed eerily off the walls; "You see this night in black and white - every star as but a grain of salt in the sea. But that is not what I see."

"No." Tadase cut in as the older man rejoined his side at last. "You probably see rainbows and miracles where there are none."

"But it is true," Tsukasa said; "A rainbow as we might know it may be hard to come by, but these heavens - they are littered with the light of a thousand stars and each and every one of them shine unique! Come!" - and he leaned down to the younger man's height and pointed towards the roof of his observatory. - "I urge you, when next the sunlight dwindles and the first dark of night begins to fall, I pray you will watch, Commander. I pray you watch this performance play out before your very eyes and you shall see that there is life even above our heads. Look closer - at the galaxies; at the clouds; look to the moonlight as it shines upon the silver sea and follow the passage of the changing night - and one day, sir, I pray you realise that there is light and colour up there that cannot be found here even on this earth." And, at last, Tsukasa paused. And he smiled; "There is no such thing as black and white within our world, Commander. Not here - nor there… And, one day, I hope you realise it."

There was a pause. Still riding the wave of calm that had come upon him, Tadase found that he could not even be angry at the man's incessant riddling. On the contrary, he could have laughed. He set down his tea;

"Is that your subtle way of saying you cannot help me, Tsukasa?"

"No." the fortune-teller replied. "It is my subtle way of asking you to keep your head turned ever skyward and to stop looking out so desperately across the sea."

"I can't say that I don't appreciate your efforts," Tadase whispered, fighting back the smile that was threatening to tug on the corners of his lips; "but this is hardly the night sky. The true night sky, I mean."

"Ah, that may be so," Tsukasa agreed; "but it is almost time. The stars will make their appearance soon, yet they sadly cannot talk to one so blind…" Tadase almost scoffed at this, yet there was no disdain in the way he rolled his eyes or curled his lip and Tsukasa smiled at it. "But they say a great deal about you, Commander."

Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"You might see black and white for now, Commander. But I hope that someday - someday soon - you might grow to appreciate all the spaces in-between."

"I see…" Tadase sighed and inwardly he cursed himself, his cheeks burning pink in humiliation, for what had he really come here for tonight? A full-blown fortune-telling? From Tsukasa Amakawa of all people? How absurd, he thought now as his mind began to clear and his temper began to settle. "So perhaps it is folly after all."

Tsukasa frowned. "Oh?"

"You did not wish me to follow Her Highness the first time." he went on. "Perhaps I have already… How did you put it? 'Strayed' from my path after all?"

"On the contrary." Tsukasa began and, all of a sudden, Tadase turned toward him and saw that his face was stern and his gleaming eyes were serious and knowing:

"This may be your last chance to find it."

~.~.~

And so that night when darkness fell the little lights of those many constellations seemed to stir from their slumber, twinkling gently across their fortune-teller's face as he walked once more amidst the heavenly void - beneath the galaxies and above the heavens and across the string of starlight through til morning when the first fine rays of the newborn sun set alight the many sails of the Commander's fleet even as they slipped slowly over the pale horizon. And, all the while, Tsukasa watched, as ever, in silence and turned his head towards the sky and sighed;

"And so it begins again…" he said as softly as the gentle dawn caressed his cheeks. "These stars - they're overlapping; many paths meeting on the trail of the white diamond flag… But who will find who first, I wonder?"

"But I see a change in the wind - A blot on the horizon! Clouds are gathering, little soldier, and I pray you heed my every word..."

And, finally, the sails slipped wholly out of sight. The gulls cried overhead. And, in the background, he heard it…

There was a chiming on his desk. Beside his cards. Repeating endlessly atop the broken music box- (Tick. Tick. Tick!) - and, almost instantly, Tsukasa felt his heart grow heavy.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Oh, little tin man," he said and he watched that sorry sight - that desperate spectacle he had seen played out so many countless times before as the soldier tried to stand - tried to push against the tireless force of gravity and whirl again, yet feebly, utterly futile as the broken cogs kept ticking in that off-key beat of 'tick, tick, tick!'-

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"The maiden sinks beyond his reach, but, though he tries..."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Oh, though he tries…"

Tick!

And, finally, the tin man froze.

Tick!

"He cannot stand."

~.~.~

A/N: I'm so disappointed, this is really only half a chapter, but I couldn't get a full-length update done in time. I've been studying abroad for a few weeks which didn't leave me with much time to do anything. I wrote this feeling very, very jet-lagged.

This will probably be re-written one day because I'm not entirely happy with it, but I just wanted to post something! I'm all antsy when I don't update regularly! Plus anyone who's still here knows that I'm definitely not abandoning this fic.

Please feel free to mercilessly pester me for updates in the review box! Thank you!