The Birth of A Blossom - 1/1 - AoiXRuki, ToraXSaga
Title: The Birth of A Blossom
Chapter: 1/1 (oneshot)
Author: akichuu
Fandom: the GazettE, alice nine.
Pairings: AoiXRuki, ToraXSaga
Theme: 033: New Day’s Dawn - Hyde @ 50stories
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, fluff
Warnings: As always, the same old un-beta-ed mistakes.
Disclaimers: I only own my funky brain and the amusing ideas it spews on daily basis.
Summary: It all begins with a single droplet of dew that is making its way down a branch of a Cherry Blossom tree. Watch where it goes; see which hearts it might touch, and listen to what story it brings us.
Comments: It’s meant to be an entry for a challenge (Spring Challenge) in FiClub, under the prompt Cherry Blossom. Honestly I couldn’t believe I came up with something like this! But I really, really love how it turned out… and it relieved my hidden desire of making GazettE boys have fluttering little wings and hop from place to place *laughs*… This is for Aoi’s and Ruki’s birthdays (Happy belated birthdays, boys… XD) and, of course, Happy Springtime to all of you!
PS: If you’d like, download the soundtrack I listened to while I wrote this: Andra & the Backbone - “Sempurna” (“Perfect”) here. Great song, trust me.
The Birth of A Blossom
By: akichuu
==================
A single droplet of crystal-clear dew made its way along the rough texture of the branch, slowly, unhurried, as if hardly intrigued by the pull of gravity. It glided further along the lean branch, disrupted slightly by the bumps, here and there, on the surface, but never failed to continue its journey downward. A blossom or two shivered, as if captivated by its presence when it slid past them-well, they should be captivated; look at how marvelous the little drop of dew was! It shimmered under the pale yellow light of the sun, like a star that had gone astray from its orbit and landed on this very tree. But it wasn’t a star, nor was it any part of the outer-world existence. It was simply a remnant of the passing season, what was left of a frozen white earth that now had melted, giving way for life to bloom for the first time this year.
Another blossom quivered, but the dew drop didn’t stop there-it was almost as if its path was certain, like it had a destination to go, but where was it? Where would this splendid little thing end its journey? In the mean time, all around it were eyes: twinkling pairs of eyes, taking a peek from crevices-some from behind pink petals, some from the nearby branches-all wanting to bear witness of this small heavenly thing’s expedition.
And then there it was: a pale pink blossom, newborn and delicate, became the final stop of the glimmering droplet. At the coming of the dew drop, the flower quivered lightly, welcoming with tender enthusiasm, its crown of fragile-looking pink pages opening slowly.
The curious sets of eyes and the sun watched the birth of a spirit.
+++
It was too early in the morning, and too cold for his liking. One way or another, the passing winter was persistent to leave its mark, almost like refusing to leave the place completely. The tips of the grass under his feet were still frozen; his breath could still create a ghostly, white presence in front of his face. Bright as the sun may be, even in this premature hour of the day, the warmth it was supposed to bring hadn’t made its way unto this peaceful little patch of the earth.
Hardly anyone was present, except him and an old couple that were enjoying their private morning stroll, a little further away from where he was sitting, observing. Peace could be found in many different places, but obviously that mentioned couple found it here, in this park, in the personal little conversation they were having, and in the adoring gaze they looked at each other with. Time may have passed irreversibly, carving severe impact on their outlooks, but time didn’t seem like it had done any damage to the precious gift that they had for themselves: love.
Isn’t it always the thing that keeps the world turning and the seasons changing? I don’t know for sure if it has that magnitude of power. But at least I know very well that it’s the thing that bandages the wound we’ve inflicted upon others, and probably the only thing that will prevent us from dying alone, in vain.
The old couple walked leisurely, the female’s arm entwined with the male’s, along the pathway and slowly away from his sight. The glorious canopy of pink blossoms made it like a roof over their heads, framing their togetherness like a picture perfect panoramic view in a photograph, and if time stopped it would be just so. He watched, still, his muffler pulled up to cover half of his face to keep it warm, couldn’t help but feeling envious of the serenity that that couple seemed to blanket themselves with.
He averted his sight when it seemed like the emotions had grown too big for his small heart. A small, pale pink bud was quivering above him, he noticed, a wet sheen covering its crown-it looked like it was just waking up after a good night sleep.
I think I might need a cup of coffee.
+++
Black haired, red-freckled winged creature stooped his upper body low enough until he could peek over the newly blossomed flower. His eyes were wide; curiosity was chewing on his nerves. He took a small leap-his wings fluttered lightly-and landed in between the flower’s long threads of stamens. There, curled in the very center of the flower, was a pale little being: a newborn. The unmoving wings that extended on his back were a magnificent sight for those who lay eyes on them: they were long-almost too long for such a small creature, but oddly, they looked just perfect on his lean, fair-skinned back; the color was almost thoroughly translucent, save for the silvery glitter on every inch of the edge. Truly marvelous; almost as if there were diamonds strewn all over the membrane-like wings and stuck there forever. It was as if that drop of dew we had seen earlier had colored these wings, giving them the divine sheen that none other spirits of the tree possessed.
And then there was his hair: it could’ve been that the Mighty Sun himself had given it a little touch of his color, his radiance; that the hair looked almost as bright, as pale and as beautiful as the majestic, blazing orb of the day. It was almost like the Earth had been gifted with a little bundle of sun of its own. Unfortunately his face was still hidden; the black haired spirit’s curiosity mounted without him being able to control it. Was it as beautiful as his hair, or his wings? Was it as radiant?
“Aoi, Aoi! Is he awake?” a soft whisper from above him was heard.
But Aoi-the black haired spirit-could not answer the question; he didn’t know whether or not the little newborn was awake or not. He didn’t look like so, since he was still curled up in that form, unmoving, just like the pair of silvery wings on his back. Aoi didn’t dare to do anything, he hadn’t the heart to wake the peaceful-looking thing, and he wished the other creatures hovering above his head would be quiet as well so they didn’t disturb him.
Oh, but how much he wanted him to wake up already!
Aoi nearly fell off the face of the blossom when the newborn finally stirred, as if he heard what Aoi had been thinking, and slowly-just like the sun in its ascent on the eastern horizon-he uncurled, and lifted his light-golden head up. A pair of dazzling, star-like blue orbs awoke and met Aoi’s awestruck ones.
+++
It was odd but, he thought he saw a little glimmer of bright gold on that small bud he had just seen blooming. It might just be the sunlight that shined and reflected on the wet, dew-covered little blossom that had given it that impression. Still, he thought it was lovely. The rest of the little pink blossoms around that special one seemed to think so too, as they all turned their gentle faces towards it, as if watching its beauty-either in adoration or in envy, he wouldn’t know. But that small, shiny one was definitely something.
Sometimes I think I need a life, a life in which I don’t sit around, all alone in the cold, observing a cherry blossom tree. The funny thing is: somehow, I don’t give a damn if this is the only kind of life that’s left for me.
He didn’t care, really; he wouldn’t even let himself be disturbed by the little teasing inside his brain that kept telling him he was making a pathetic sight of himself. People might just find him sitting like a homeless man on this wooden bench in the park, staring at nothing and everything all at once, and they’d think, “Hey, here’s another silly man, wasting his life gazing at unimportant sceneries.” And then people might stop and take a seat beside him; they might want to ask why he wanted to spend a freezing morning at a scarcely populated park, and if they did ask, then he would give them the answer.
I won’t mind explaining it if you do have the ears and conscience to listen, I just don’t think it would make sense for you why I want to sit here, waiting for someone I’m not even sure would actually come. And you’ll only think it’s all the more ridiculous if you hear that I never know what time the appointment supposed to take place-since a specific hour has never been mentioned at all-and that I don’t know how the person looks like today; after all, it’s been so long since I met him.
They would ask, “Then how are you going to recognize him?”
And he would answer, “My mind says I might not recognize him at all, but my heart says I’ll know that it’s him the second I see him.”
+++
A child of the sky, that was what Aoi thought of him-the newborn-because, truly, he was adorned with the most beautiful things that Aoi had ever seen gliding or glimmering on the sky. As he had first noticed, his hair was of the fair radiance of the Sun, and his wings were of the jewels that fell from the sky on a rainy day; his skin was of the pale glow of the moon at its fullest span on a cloudless sky, and his cheeks were the color of the loveliest dawn: bright crimson. Nothing, though, nothing could be compared with his eyes: a pair of big, twinkling blue stars that managed to shine through even in broad daylight. Deep pools with shimmering surface, those eyes could mesmerize everyone, simply with one gaze.
Aoi, the black haired spirit, sat there, transfixed, as the newborn observed him, stroking him with the airiest of touches. He touched his arm, face and body, seeming like he was mapping Aoi’s form, studying its every inch; his magnificent eyes glowing with childish curiosity, his lush lips arching a little smile. Aoi let him, while he himself studied the smaller creature with unrestrained adoration, smiling whole-heartedly when the newborn looked at him straight in the eye.
He was extraordinarily gorgeous, this newborn. And Aoi was one of those who fell in love at the very first sight; his heart was smitten hard, mercilessly, for never, never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful. Never had he met a creature whose face was absolutely outer-worldly, and smile was beyond charming. And never had he felt his heart react so quickly to another, only justifying the blossom of the most glorious emotion inside of him that was inspired by none other but this brilliant newborn.
And so Aoi leaned close to the blonde spirit, felt his heart tremble when the heavenly creature blinked his starry eyes, and right next to his ear, Aoi whispered with a quivering voice:
“Good morning, Beautiful. Welcome to the world.”
The newborn spirit’s smile widened; and his cheek was warm when Aoi touched it with his lips.
+++
The cold and moody morning had grown into an unsuspected cheerful kind of day when the sun rose higher to the barely clouded sky. More of the stubborn leftover of winter had melted to various sized puddles of water, on the concrete pathway and on the ground. It was also more crowded now; starting out as the somber, deserted area it had been in the morning, the place was now lightly populated with people. He couldn’t be blamed to have counted almost every single new visitor he had seen and to have observed their clothing styles along the way; he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. What comforted him the most was the temperature that had gradually risen; it wasn’t yet warm, but it was enough to make him pull off his muffler from his face and let it dangle on the armrest beside him.
He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the bluish glow on the external screen that showed him numbers, they read: 40 minutes to 11. With a slight pang of frustration, he realized he had been sitting here for nearly four hours.
Why is it that I hate digital clocks so much? The numbers are so mean, such a plain, heartless sight that won’t let you linger and think about anything before it strikes you dead cold with the full knowledge of the time. It doesn’t go that way with classic ones that have needles and roman numbers. I can still have my moment, thinking I’ve seen the needles wrong, giving myself a temporary lever to grip on before I have to let myself crumble away.
I know it’s pathetic, very pathetic, even, that I have been waiting for so long-more than just today’s four hours I’ve spent sitting here, but also those years that have gone by with me still clinging desperately to the past. I couldn’t justify what I’m doing, neither could I explain why the stubbornness, why I am hanging on still, even to this very moment. All I can tell you that I have to know-I need to know… if I have or have not been the only one hoping for the past to roll over and be my present.
Looking at the blossoms-that seemed to have become more cheerful by the minute, as if some creatures were happily fluttering over and around the branches; hyper and in love, probably-over his head, he thought that he had never felt so alone in his life. He felt alone; not because there wasn’t anybody around him physically, but because the people of his past were fading from his life.
… Good God, doesn’t this feel awful…
Suddenly it felt like a stack of years was scraped right out of his existence. Suddenly it felt like high school was so far beyond his reach-like a decayed chapter of a book that he never read again after he had finished it-and graduation day… it was almost like a dream that was eroding by the minute. A slowly proceeding list of names in the end of a movie roll; a melting winter, that’s how he saw it all. Scared breathless as he was, he couldn’t stop it from slipping away; all of it.
Everything that is measured with time is scary. I’m not being philosophical; it simply is scary. Think of when a doctor gives his patient a couple of months before he has to be wrapped up in a coffin and stored underground to the company of worms and fungus; it’s scary. Time is scary.
A turning point that he had once been so glad of overcoming, was now a big gaping hole that he wished he could patch up, with something, with anything… with the true presence, not just an image that his brain had created, of the one person he had made a pact with, in that blue graduation day.
+++
‘Ruki’ was the word the newborn had whispered timidly as he first made his effort to speak, right after Aoi asked him his name. ‘Ruki’ was the name that Aoi had repeated, and what had made the blue-eyed spirit’s cheeks blush so pleasantly, the color was just like the blossoms around them. And then Aoi had told him his own name and told him what a delight it was to meet him. Ruki had smiled.
Through the early hours of his birth and until this moment, little Ruki had been holding Aoi’s hand, refusing to let go even when Aoi had asked him to be acquainted with other spirits. Aoi couldn’t say he disapproved, though. From the minute he took the newborn into his hold he had known that he wouldn’t ever be able to let go of him. Although, it did become difficult at some points, because the little creature, despite the few hours that he’d only been awake, happened to be an agile flier, thus proving that his long pair of wings was meant for something; Aoi had tried his best to keep up with him soaring around and amongst the flowers. Nevertheless, Aoi was thoroughly amused; Ruki’s curiosity of nearly everything he sighted was amusing, and the way his eyes would widen-glowing with that fascinating blue radiance in them-each time he learned something new was exhilarating to watch.
Naturally, as a newborn, Ruki had so many things to ask. He had asked about the flower in which he was born and the other flowers, about the whole tree, about the spirits, about the sunlight, about the sky; well, nearly about everything.
The seemingly simple but apparently the most complicated question had surfaced when they were watching a couple of elderly humans walking slowly in the park; suddenly Ruki wanted to know what had made those people look so happy, what had made them keep holding hands and smiling all the time. It was love, so Aoi had said; but then to explain what love was, Aoi had found it exceptionally difficult, since love was just something so extraordinarily abstract and most of the times illogical. Aoi then had resolved on telling Ruki that the ticklish, warm sensation that a person felt inside whenever they met or touched other person that they thought was nice was love, or at least, love caused it to appear.
“Aoi is love, then,” so said the lovely creature.
Aoi asked, “How so?”
“Aoi says love causes a warm feeling,” Ruki said, “Aoi makes this warm feeling appear inside Ruki’s stomach whenever Ruki sees Aoi. So that must be Aoi is love.”
For a moment Aoi hadn’t been able to say anything; he felt like his heart had stopped beating. And then, with a shock, it beat again, it beat so quickly that Aoi feared it was going to jump right out of his chest. In the end, Aoi never said anything. He simply touched Ruki’s cheek and it seemed that all unsaid words were being said in that moment, despite the silence between them. The blossoms around them bowed their glorious crowns towards the ground when the golden haired angel snuggled onto Aoi; Aoi knew, from the suddenly dimmed sky, that even the Sun above them was jealous of the sight.
+++
Just when he thought the day would never fail to stay bright, it was suddenly dim around him, and when he lifted his face up, he could see a small blotch of cloud hovering over the visage of the sun. He thought the sun looked a little tired. Or maybe that big old orb of fire felt sorry for him; had been looking at him since the break of dawn and now had developed some kind of pity for him: this pathetic little creature that had been sitting alone for four straight hours. Maybe it thought that he needed a little space, a little sympathy. Or maybe it was all just his darkening heart projecting outward, making his surrounding look just as dark.
Well, who am I kidding now? To think that anyone would remember a long lost promise, I’m daydreaming. It’s broad daylight and I’m stuck with this wishful thinking, like I’ve always been for the last eight years. When will I ever get it straight in my head? High school is over. It’s the past, and just like every other thing that is in my past, I have to let go. But-
“Hungry?”
Great; now my mind is playing tricks on me.
He lowered his sight from the sky-that had brightened again once that blotch of cloud floated away-and, with raised eyebrows saw the person who had spoken to him.
When he thought he would recognize the person he had been waiting for, the very second he laid eyes on him, he hadn’t taken himself seriously. It was simply a way out that he could run to whenever he felt hope was fading, whenever the world was pushing him to understand that he had been fooling himself. For so long he had forced himself to believe it, and then many years had passed-too many years, as a matter of fact-and the future that he had been so scared of was already here. He never knew what to expect, but for all honesty, he surely hadn’t expected this.
A smile that seemed to have emerged right from the depth of a buried memory appeared before him, a pair of familiar eyes along with it. High school was suddenly here again, and he felt like he had his uniform on, could faintly feel the collar grazing on the skin of his neck. And it was just another hour after classes were over, and he was on the middle of his way home, but as always, he made a stop at the park.
And Saga was here with him, and he had just been telling him a story, and now Saga was smiling in response to it. It was the same spring day. It was the past rolling right into the present moment and playing right before his eyes.
“It’s been a while, isn’t it, Tora?” the honey brown haired boy-man; there was still visible changes, Tora noticed, although very slight-spoke again.
“It is, Saga,” he answered.
Tora smiled, watching the other taking a seat beside him. A box of still-sizzling takoyaki was on the other’s lap. He remembered; it was from the small booth that was located on the same spot that it had been years ago, just outside the park’s entrance gate. He had once said that the old man’s takoyaki was the best in town, and unlike any other places, the taste never changed a bit. He had also said that it was his favorite-and apparently, Saga remembered.
After a moment, he realized he was still staring-not at the box of food, but at the person carrying it-when Saga laughed.
“You didn’t think I’d remember, did you?” Saga asked; his face was an expression of amusement.
“No,” Tora admitted, “I didn’t think you would.”
Playfully, the other man bumped his shoulder onto him. “I’m offended, Tora,” Saga said, feigning anger, but the tone of laughter in his voice stated otherwise. Looking down on his lap, the honey-brown haired man lifted the lid of the box until four pairs of takoyaki was presented for Tora’s sight; his mouth watered. But Saga still had something to say-funny that after all this time Tora could still tell what the other was thinking or planning to do-as he bit his lip in that familiar manner of his.
“I remember,” Saga continued, “I’ll never forget. I just wished we didn’t have to wait so long just to see each other again, but, you know… I’m just grateful… and happy. Because, honestly-but don’t be angry with me, Tora,” he giggled lightly, “I thought you forgot.”
How could I ever forget, Saga?
“But you’re here,” Saga spoke cheerfully, “And I’m here. That’s all that matters.”
Tora smiled at the other man. “Yes, that’s all that matters,” he affirmed, “We have a lot of catching up to do, you and I.”
“We do,” Saga nodded, “High school is a long way back.”
“Long; very long, indeed.”
For me, it felt like centuries ago; but like you said, none of that matters anymore, Saga.
Suddenly Saga furrowed his brows; with curious eyes he turned to Tora. “And… how long have you been waiting here, exactly?” he asked.
Tora laughed, not answering, sticking a toothpick through one sizzling ball and lifted it up to his mouth instead. Saga still made that funny face when he was irritated, Tora noticed, the very same face he had had years ago in high school.
=== End ===
A/N:
- How was it? o(>w<)o
- I like the way my brain works lately. Have I been feeding it well? I wonder. But I’ve run out of blood-supply-I mean supplements! Yep. What should I do…?
- During my absence I’ve written a lot, to be honest, and I’ve been thinking a lot about doing it professionally, you know, like, writing a fiction book and publish it. It’s still just a plan. I’d really like to, I mean I got the several plots ready and everything, but I wonder what publisher here would accept English manuscript… (I suck at my own mother language, can you believe that?)
My 50stories AoiXRuki project list is here
My other fanfics list is here
Chapter: 1/1 (oneshot)
Author: akichuu
Fandom: the GazettE, alice nine.
Pairings: AoiXRuki, ToraXSaga
Theme: 033: New Day’s Dawn - Hyde @ 50stories
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, fluff
Warnings: As always, the same old un-beta-ed mistakes.
Disclaimers: I only own my funky brain and the amusing ideas it spews on daily basis.
Summary: It all begins with a single droplet of dew that is making its way down a branch of a Cherry Blossom tree. Watch where it goes; see which hearts it might touch, and listen to what story it brings us.
Comments: It’s meant to be an entry for a challenge (Spring Challenge) in FiClub, under the prompt Cherry Blossom. Honestly I couldn’t believe I came up with something like this! But I really, really love how it turned out… and it relieved my hidden desire of making GazettE boys have fluttering little wings and hop from place to place *laughs*… This is for Aoi’s and Ruki’s birthdays (Happy belated birthdays, boys… XD) and, of course, Happy Springtime to all of you!
PS: If you’d like, download the soundtrack I listened to while I wrote this: Andra & the Backbone - “Sempurna” (“Perfect”) here. Great song, trust me.
The Birth of A Blossom
By: akichuu
==================
A single droplet of crystal-clear dew made its way along the rough texture of the branch, slowly, unhurried, as if hardly intrigued by the pull of gravity. It glided further along the lean branch, disrupted slightly by the bumps, here and there, on the surface, but never failed to continue its journey downward. A blossom or two shivered, as if captivated by its presence when it slid past them-well, they should be captivated; look at how marvelous the little drop of dew was! It shimmered under the pale yellow light of the sun, like a star that had gone astray from its orbit and landed on this very tree. But it wasn’t a star, nor was it any part of the outer-world existence. It was simply a remnant of the passing season, what was left of a frozen white earth that now had melted, giving way for life to bloom for the first time this year.
Another blossom quivered, but the dew drop didn’t stop there-it was almost as if its path was certain, like it had a destination to go, but where was it? Where would this splendid little thing end its journey? In the mean time, all around it were eyes: twinkling pairs of eyes, taking a peek from crevices-some from behind pink petals, some from the nearby branches-all wanting to bear witness of this small heavenly thing’s expedition.
And then there it was: a pale pink blossom, newborn and delicate, became the final stop of the glimmering droplet. At the coming of the dew drop, the flower quivered lightly, welcoming with tender enthusiasm, its crown of fragile-looking pink pages opening slowly.
The curious sets of eyes and the sun watched the birth of a spirit.
+++
It was too early in the morning, and too cold for his liking. One way or another, the passing winter was persistent to leave its mark, almost like refusing to leave the place completely. The tips of the grass under his feet were still frozen; his breath could still create a ghostly, white presence in front of his face. Bright as the sun may be, even in this premature hour of the day, the warmth it was supposed to bring hadn’t made its way unto this peaceful little patch of the earth.
Hardly anyone was present, except him and an old couple that were enjoying their private morning stroll, a little further away from where he was sitting, observing. Peace could be found in many different places, but obviously that mentioned couple found it here, in this park, in the personal little conversation they were having, and in the adoring gaze they looked at each other with. Time may have passed irreversibly, carving severe impact on their outlooks, but time didn’t seem like it had done any damage to the precious gift that they had for themselves: love.
Isn’t it always the thing that keeps the world turning and the seasons changing? I don’t know for sure if it has that magnitude of power. But at least I know very well that it’s the thing that bandages the wound we’ve inflicted upon others, and probably the only thing that will prevent us from dying alone, in vain.
The old couple walked leisurely, the female’s arm entwined with the male’s, along the pathway and slowly away from his sight. The glorious canopy of pink blossoms made it like a roof over their heads, framing their togetherness like a picture perfect panoramic view in a photograph, and if time stopped it would be just so. He watched, still, his muffler pulled up to cover half of his face to keep it warm, couldn’t help but feeling envious of the serenity that that couple seemed to blanket themselves with.
He averted his sight when it seemed like the emotions had grown too big for his small heart. A small, pale pink bud was quivering above him, he noticed, a wet sheen covering its crown-it looked like it was just waking up after a good night sleep.
I think I might need a cup of coffee.
+++
Black haired, red-freckled winged creature stooped his upper body low enough until he could peek over the newly blossomed flower. His eyes were wide; curiosity was chewing on his nerves. He took a small leap-his wings fluttered lightly-and landed in between the flower’s long threads of stamens. There, curled in the very center of the flower, was a pale little being: a newborn. The unmoving wings that extended on his back were a magnificent sight for those who lay eyes on them: they were long-almost too long for such a small creature, but oddly, they looked just perfect on his lean, fair-skinned back; the color was almost thoroughly translucent, save for the silvery glitter on every inch of the edge. Truly marvelous; almost as if there were diamonds strewn all over the membrane-like wings and stuck there forever. It was as if that drop of dew we had seen earlier had colored these wings, giving them the divine sheen that none other spirits of the tree possessed.
And then there was his hair: it could’ve been that the Mighty Sun himself had given it a little touch of his color, his radiance; that the hair looked almost as bright, as pale and as beautiful as the majestic, blazing orb of the day. It was almost like the Earth had been gifted with a little bundle of sun of its own. Unfortunately his face was still hidden; the black haired spirit’s curiosity mounted without him being able to control it. Was it as beautiful as his hair, or his wings? Was it as radiant?
“Aoi, Aoi! Is he awake?” a soft whisper from above him was heard.
But Aoi-the black haired spirit-could not answer the question; he didn’t know whether or not the little newborn was awake or not. He didn’t look like so, since he was still curled up in that form, unmoving, just like the pair of silvery wings on his back. Aoi didn’t dare to do anything, he hadn’t the heart to wake the peaceful-looking thing, and he wished the other creatures hovering above his head would be quiet as well so they didn’t disturb him.
Oh, but how much he wanted him to wake up already!
Aoi nearly fell off the face of the blossom when the newborn finally stirred, as if he heard what Aoi had been thinking, and slowly-just like the sun in its ascent on the eastern horizon-he uncurled, and lifted his light-golden head up. A pair of dazzling, star-like blue orbs awoke and met Aoi’s awestruck ones.
+++
It was odd but, he thought he saw a little glimmer of bright gold on that small bud he had just seen blooming. It might just be the sunlight that shined and reflected on the wet, dew-covered little blossom that had given it that impression. Still, he thought it was lovely. The rest of the little pink blossoms around that special one seemed to think so too, as they all turned their gentle faces towards it, as if watching its beauty-either in adoration or in envy, he wouldn’t know. But that small, shiny one was definitely something.
Sometimes I think I need a life, a life in which I don’t sit around, all alone in the cold, observing a cherry blossom tree. The funny thing is: somehow, I don’t give a damn if this is the only kind of life that’s left for me.
He didn’t care, really; he wouldn’t even let himself be disturbed by the little teasing inside his brain that kept telling him he was making a pathetic sight of himself. People might just find him sitting like a homeless man on this wooden bench in the park, staring at nothing and everything all at once, and they’d think, “Hey, here’s another silly man, wasting his life gazing at unimportant sceneries.” And then people might stop and take a seat beside him; they might want to ask why he wanted to spend a freezing morning at a scarcely populated park, and if they did ask, then he would give them the answer.
I won’t mind explaining it if you do have the ears and conscience to listen, I just don’t think it would make sense for you why I want to sit here, waiting for someone I’m not even sure would actually come. And you’ll only think it’s all the more ridiculous if you hear that I never know what time the appointment supposed to take place-since a specific hour has never been mentioned at all-and that I don’t know how the person looks like today; after all, it’s been so long since I met him.
They would ask, “Then how are you going to recognize him?”
And he would answer, “My mind says I might not recognize him at all, but my heart says I’ll know that it’s him the second I see him.”
+++
A child of the sky, that was what Aoi thought of him-the newborn-because, truly, he was adorned with the most beautiful things that Aoi had ever seen gliding or glimmering on the sky. As he had first noticed, his hair was of the fair radiance of the Sun, and his wings were of the jewels that fell from the sky on a rainy day; his skin was of the pale glow of the moon at its fullest span on a cloudless sky, and his cheeks were the color of the loveliest dawn: bright crimson. Nothing, though, nothing could be compared with his eyes: a pair of big, twinkling blue stars that managed to shine through even in broad daylight. Deep pools with shimmering surface, those eyes could mesmerize everyone, simply with one gaze.
Aoi, the black haired spirit, sat there, transfixed, as the newborn observed him, stroking him with the airiest of touches. He touched his arm, face and body, seeming like he was mapping Aoi’s form, studying its every inch; his magnificent eyes glowing with childish curiosity, his lush lips arching a little smile. Aoi let him, while he himself studied the smaller creature with unrestrained adoration, smiling whole-heartedly when the newborn looked at him straight in the eye.
He was extraordinarily gorgeous, this newborn. And Aoi was one of those who fell in love at the very first sight; his heart was smitten hard, mercilessly, for never, never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful. Never had he met a creature whose face was absolutely outer-worldly, and smile was beyond charming. And never had he felt his heart react so quickly to another, only justifying the blossom of the most glorious emotion inside of him that was inspired by none other but this brilliant newborn.
And so Aoi leaned close to the blonde spirit, felt his heart tremble when the heavenly creature blinked his starry eyes, and right next to his ear, Aoi whispered with a quivering voice:
“Good morning, Beautiful. Welcome to the world.”
The newborn spirit’s smile widened; and his cheek was warm when Aoi touched it with his lips.
+++
The cold and moody morning had grown into an unsuspected cheerful kind of day when the sun rose higher to the barely clouded sky. More of the stubborn leftover of winter had melted to various sized puddles of water, on the concrete pathway and on the ground. It was also more crowded now; starting out as the somber, deserted area it had been in the morning, the place was now lightly populated with people. He couldn’t be blamed to have counted almost every single new visitor he had seen and to have observed their clothing styles along the way; he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. What comforted him the most was the temperature that had gradually risen; it wasn’t yet warm, but it was enough to make him pull off his muffler from his face and let it dangle on the armrest beside him.
He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the bluish glow on the external screen that showed him numbers, they read: 40 minutes to 11. With a slight pang of frustration, he realized he had been sitting here for nearly four hours.
Why is it that I hate digital clocks so much? The numbers are so mean, such a plain, heartless sight that won’t let you linger and think about anything before it strikes you dead cold with the full knowledge of the time. It doesn’t go that way with classic ones that have needles and roman numbers. I can still have my moment, thinking I’ve seen the needles wrong, giving myself a temporary lever to grip on before I have to let myself crumble away.
I know it’s pathetic, very pathetic, even, that I have been waiting for so long-more than just today’s four hours I’ve spent sitting here, but also those years that have gone by with me still clinging desperately to the past. I couldn’t justify what I’m doing, neither could I explain why the stubbornness, why I am hanging on still, even to this very moment. All I can tell you that I have to know-I need to know… if I have or have not been the only one hoping for the past to roll over and be my present.
Looking at the blossoms-that seemed to have become more cheerful by the minute, as if some creatures were happily fluttering over and around the branches; hyper and in love, probably-over his head, he thought that he had never felt so alone in his life. He felt alone; not because there wasn’t anybody around him physically, but because the people of his past were fading from his life.
… Good God, doesn’t this feel awful…
Suddenly it felt like a stack of years was scraped right out of his existence. Suddenly it felt like high school was so far beyond his reach-like a decayed chapter of a book that he never read again after he had finished it-and graduation day… it was almost like a dream that was eroding by the minute. A slowly proceeding list of names in the end of a movie roll; a melting winter, that’s how he saw it all. Scared breathless as he was, he couldn’t stop it from slipping away; all of it.
Everything that is measured with time is scary. I’m not being philosophical; it simply is scary. Think of when a doctor gives his patient a couple of months before he has to be wrapped up in a coffin and stored underground to the company of worms and fungus; it’s scary. Time is scary.
A turning point that he had once been so glad of overcoming, was now a big gaping hole that he wished he could patch up, with something, with anything… with the true presence, not just an image that his brain had created, of the one person he had made a pact with, in that blue graduation day.
+++
‘Ruki’ was the word the newborn had whispered timidly as he first made his effort to speak, right after Aoi asked him his name. ‘Ruki’ was the name that Aoi had repeated, and what had made the blue-eyed spirit’s cheeks blush so pleasantly, the color was just like the blossoms around them. And then Aoi had told him his own name and told him what a delight it was to meet him. Ruki had smiled.
Through the early hours of his birth and until this moment, little Ruki had been holding Aoi’s hand, refusing to let go even when Aoi had asked him to be acquainted with other spirits. Aoi couldn’t say he disapproved, though. From the minute he took the newborn into his hold he had known that he wouldn’t ever be able to let go of him. Although, it did become difficult at some points, because the little creature, despite the few hours that he’d only been awake, happened to be an agile flier, thus proving that his long pair of wings was meant for something; Aoi had tried his best to keep up with him soaring around and amongst the flowers. Nevertheless, Aoi was thoroughly amused; Ruki’s curiosity of nearly everything he sighted was amusing, and the way his eyes would widen-glowing with that fascinating blue radiance in them-each time he learned something new was exhilarating to watch.
Naturally, as a newborn, Ruki had so many things to ask. He had asked about the flower in which he was born and the other flowers, about the whole tree, about the spirits, about the sunlight, about the sky; well, nearly about everything.
The seemingly simple but apparently the most complicated question had surfaced when they were watching a couple of elderly humans walking slowly in the park; suddenly Ruki wanted to know what had made those people look so happy, what had made them keep holding hands and smiling all the time. It was love, so Aoi had said; but then to explain what love was, Aoi had found it exceptionally difficult, since love was just something so extraordinarily abstract and most of the times illogical. Aoi then had resolved on telling Ruki that the ticklish, warm sensation that a person felt inside whenever they met or touched other person that they thought was nice was love, or at least, love caused it to appear.
“Aoi is love, then,” so said the lovely creature.
Aoi asked, “How so?”
“Aoi says love causes a warm feeling,” Ruki said, “Aoi makes this warm feeling appear inside Ruki’s stomach whenever Ruki sees Aoi. So that must be Aoi is love.”
For a moment Aoi hadn’t been able to say anything; he felt like his heart had stopped beating. And then, with a shock, it beat again, it beat so quickly that Aoi feared it was going to jump right out of his chest. In the end, Aoi never said anything. He simply touched Ruki’s cheek and it seemed that all unsaid words were being said in that moment, despite the silence between them. The blossoms around them bowed their glorious crowns towards the ground when the golden haired angel snuggled onto Aoi; Aoi knew, from the suddenly dimmed sky, that even the Sun above them was jealous of the sight.
+++
Just when he thought the day would never fail to stay bright, it was suddenly dim around him, and when he lifted his face up, he could see a small blotch of cloud hovering over the visage of the sun. He thought the sun looked a little tired. Or maybe that big old orb of fire felt sorry for him; had been looking at him since the break of dawn and now had developed some kind of pity for him: this pathetic little creature that had been sitting alone for four straight hours. Maybe it thought that he needed a little space, a little sympathy. Or maybe it was all just his darkening heart projecting outward, making his surrounding look just as dark.
Well, who am I kidding now? To think that anyone would remember a long lost promise, I’m daydreaming. It’s broad daylight and I’m stuck with this wishful thinking, like I’ve always been for the last eight years. When will I ever get it straight in my head? High school is over. It’s the past, and just like every other thing that is in my past, I have to let go. But-
“Hungry?”
Great; now my mind is playing tricks on me.
He lowered his sight from the sky-that had brightened again once that blotch of cloud floated away-and, with raised eyebrows saw the person who had spoken to him.
When he thought he would recognize the person he had been waiting for, the very second he laid eyes on him, he hadn’t taken himself seriously. It was simply a way out that he could run to whenever he felt hope was fading, whenever the world was pushing him to understand that he had been fooling himself. For so long he had forced himself to believe it, and then many years had passed-too many years, as a matter of fact-and the future that he had been so scared of was already here. He never knew what to expect, but for all honesty, he surely hadn’t expected this.
A smile that seemed to have emerged right from the depth of a buried memory appeared before him, a pair of familiar eyes along with it. High school was suddenly here again, and he felt like he had his uniform on, could faintly feel the collar grazing on the skin of his neck. And it was just another hour after classes were over, and he was on the middle of his way home, but as always, he made a stop at the park.
And Saga was here with him, and he had just been telling him a story, and now Saga was smiling in response to it. It was the same spring day. It was the past rolling right into the present moment and playing right before his eyes.
“It’s been a while, isn’t it, Tora?” the honey brown haired boy-man; there was still visible changes, Tora noticed, although very slight-spoke again.
“It is, Saga,” he answered.
Tora smiled, watching the other taking a seat beside him. A box of still-sizzling takoyaki was on the other’s lap. He remembered; it was from the small booth that was located on the same spot that it had been years ago, just outside the park’s entrance gate. He had once said that the old man’s takoyaki was the best in town, and unlike any other places, the taste never changed a bit. He had also said that it was his favorite-and apparently, Saga remembered.
After a moment, he realized he was still staring-not at the box of food, but at the person carrying it-when Saga laughed.
“You didn’t think I’d remember, did you?” Saga asked; his face was an expression of amusement.
“No,” Tora admitted, “I didn’t think you would.”
Playfully, the other man bumped his shoulder onto him. “I’m offended, Tora,” Saga said, feigning anger, but the tone of laughter in his voice stated otherwise. Looking down on his lap, the honey-brown haired man lifted the lid of the box until four pairs of takoyaki was presented for Tora’s sight; his mouth watered. But Saga still had something to say-funny that after all this time Tora could still tell what the other was thinking or planning to do-as he bit his lip in that familiar manner of his.
“I remember,” Saga continued, “I’ll never forget. I just wished we didn’t have to wait so long just to see each other again, but, you know… I’m just grateful… and happy. Because, honestly-but don’t be angry with me, Tora,” he giggled lightly, “I thought you forgot.”
How could I ever forget, Saga?
“But you’re here,” Saga spoke cheerfully, “And I’m here. That’s all that matters.”
Tora smiled at the other man. “Yes, that’s all that matters,” he affirmed, “We have a lot of catching up to do, you and I.”
“We do,” Saga nodded, “High school is a long way back.”
“Long; very long, indeed.”
For me, it felt like centuries ago; but like you said, none of that matters anymore, Saga.
Suddenly Saga furrowed his brows; with curious eyes he turned to Tora. “And… how long have you been waiting here, exactly?” he asked.
Tora laughed, not answering, sticking a toothpick through one sizzling ball and lifted it up to his mouth instead. Saga still made that funny face when he was irritated, Tora noticed, the very same face he had had years ago in high school.
=== End ===
A/N:
- How was it? o(>w<)o
- I like the way my brain works lately. Have I been feeding it well? I wonder. But I’ve run out of blood-supply-I mean supplements! Yep. What should I do…?
- During my absence I’ve written a lot, to be honest, and I’ve been thinking a lot about doing it professionally, you know, like, writing a fiction book and publish it. It’s still just a plan. I’d really like to, I mean I got the several plots ready and everything, but I wonder what publisher here would accept English manuscript… (I suck at my own mother language, can you believe that?)
My 50stories AoiXRuki project list is here
My other fanfics list is here