Nabari no Ou/ Through cotton and clouds
When you were little there wasn’t music for you. Some days you lay on your back looking at the ceiling, the muffled sounds of what you then discovered was a television reaching you. But no music.
You liked to listen to the ticking sound that rain drops made against the soil outside. The soil was higher than you, closed in that basement. You were living under the others’ lives. It took blood and fear to set you free. And you ran, you ran with that tiny hand clasped over the wound opened in your neck. You ran asking to yourself why all of sudden you had decided to live.
The first time you heard some music you were in Yukimi’s car. It was the time when you still didn’t know how to move. You weren’t used to that long legs and long arms. You wanted to go back to the little body you had had, because it would have been easier to hide.
It was the first time you went out with Yukimi. He had bought you some new clothes, the old were just too small. Kazuho had put them away, she didn’t want to throw them away. You had wanted to tell her to destroy them, to burn them, but you hadn’t said anything. You didn’t take Yukimi’s open hand and exited the apartment. You didn’t feel like a kid anymore. You didn’t see Yukimi biting his lower lip and looking at you.
You were looking outside the car window and Yukimi turned the radio on. A cracking sound came out. You covered your ears, yes, you still could hear. Yukimi hurried and inserted a cassette into the cassette-player. The sounds that time were sweeter, pouring in the car as the water had poured into the basement on rainy days, as mould had grown softly in the place where you had lived. Slowly you brought your hands down and rested them on your knees. Yukimi smiled at the road in front of him.
You were going on a mission, you were going to kill, yet what you felt was so incredibly close to the peace you had never reached.
From then on Yukimi always put on some music when you were at home. Jazz, pop, classical music. You loved Peter Gabriel. You didn’t understand any of the words. But sitting on the floor, Yukimi at your side, listening, was enough. You didn’t look for any other meaning.
Then slowly your ears began to get filled with clouds and cotton. The sound of the world, the sound of the life you hadn’t wanted to touch, became more distant. And distance makes the desire grow.
When you met Miharu it had already started. The screams that day were muffled, they echoed in your weak ears though, and you saw Miharu’s open mouth, you knew he was screaming with all his might. You desired you could hear that scream. You desired that that scream could be what made you deaf.
Miharu liked to sing. Once he told you about how his father used to make him listen to music when he was little. He had to talk right into your ear so that you could understand. You thought that you didn’t remember your father’s face, but you had imagined many times his disgusted face as he first saw you.
Every time Miharu was singing you looked at his lips, trying to catch the rhythm you couldn’t hear. You didn’t know how to sing. You didn’t know how to whistle.
It was spring. The day was warm, and the coat was a bit heavier on your shoulders. Kazuho had told you to eat more. You were in Banten, and Miharu was with you. Yukimi had brought you there, he was afraid for your health, you wished he didn’t care so much. Miharu was walking at your side, keeping your pace, in silence. He had understood that he could communicate with you without talking so much. You were grateful.
It was under a tree. You didn’t know what kind of tree it was, nobody had taught you how to tell a tree from another. But it had leaves on it, fresh leaves, and it was enough. Miharu lifted up on his toes and cupped your ear with his hand. His skin was fresh and yours was burning from the contact.
- Do you have any wish, Yoite?
You looked up, at the young leaves dangling over you.
You shook your head.
- I have a wish.
You looked at Miharu, his face so close to yours. You looked at him and you didn’t need to ask anything.
- I wish you could be with me. Without any reason. Not because you need me to disappear.
His lips brushed lightly over your lobe. You closed your eyes, the light passing through the leaves stamping drawings on your eyelids.
And you ran, you ran like that bloody day years before. You ran till Yukimi’s car, till your lungs were almost bursting. It was the first time his lips touched you.
When you arrived at home Yukimi looked at you, he gently brushed his hand over your cheek.
- If you want you can listen to some music here, Yoite.
You looked at him and nodded. You looked at him walking towards the door. You wish you could be allowed to live, to say “Thank you” and “I love you”.
The cassette-player poured its notes inside the little space of the car. You hooked your knees up. You wished the music you loved so much, the music you couldn’t hear any more, could erase that tingling on your lobe, that tingling descending inside of you, passing through the cotton and the clouds, filling your ears.
xposted at30_kisses and nabari_no_ou
You liked to listen to the ticking sound that rain drops made against the soil outside. The soil was higher than you, closed in that basement. You were living under the others’ lives. It took blood and fear to set you free. And you ran, you ran with that tiny hand clasped over the wound opened in your neck. You ran asking to yourself why all of sudden you had decided to live.
The first time you heard some music you were in Yukimi’s car. It was the time when you still didn’t know how to move. You weren’t used to that long legs and long arms. You wanted to go back to the little body you had had, because it would have been easier to hide.
It was the first time you went out with Yukimi. He had bought you some new clothes, the old were just too small. Kazuho had put them away, she didn’t want to throw them away. You had wanted to tell her to destroy them, to burn them, but you hadn’t said anything. You didn’t take Yukimi’s open hand and exited the apartment. You didn’t feel like a kid anymore. You didn’t see Yukimi biting his lower lip and looking at you.
You were looking outside the car window and Yukimi turned the radio on. A cracking sound came out. You covered your ears, yes, you still could hear. Yukimi hurried and inserted a cassette into the cassette-player. The sounds that time were sweeter, pouring in the car as the water had poured into the basement on rainy days, as mould had grown softly in the place where you had lived. Slowly you brought your hands down and rested them on your knees. Yukimi smiled at the road in front of him.
You were going on a mission, you were going to kill, yet what you felt was so incredibly close to the peace you had never reached.
From then on Yukimi always put on some music when you were at home. Jazz, pop, classical music. You loved Peter Gabriel. You didn’t understand any of the words. But sitting on the floor, Yukimi at your side, listening, was enough. You didn’t look for any other meaning.
Then slowly your ears began to get filled with clouds and cotton. The sound of the world, the sound of the life you hadn’t wanted to touch, became more distant. And distance makes the desire grow.
When you met Miharu it had already started. The screams that day were muffled, they echoed in your weak ears though, and you saw Miharu’s open mouth, you knew he was screaming with all his might. You desired you could hear that scream. You desired that that scream could be what made you deaf.
Miharu liked to sing. Once he told you about how his father used to make him listen to music when he was little. He had to talk right into your ear so that you could understand. You thought that you didn’t remember your father’s face, but you had imagined many times his disgusted face as he first saw you.
Every time Miharu was singing you looked at his lips, trying to catch the rhythm you couldn’t hear. You didn’t know how to sing. You didn’t know how to whistle.
It was spring. The day was warm, and the coat was a bit heavier on your shoulders. Kazuho had told you to eat more. You were in Banten, and Miharu was with you. Yukimi had brought you there, he was afraid for your health, you wished he didn’t care so much. Miharu was walking at your side, keeping your pace, in silence. He had understood that he could communicate with you without talking so much. You were grateful.
It was under a tree. You didn’t know what kind of tree it was, nobody had taught you how to tell a tree from another. But it had leaves on it, fresh leaves, and it was enough. Miharu lifted up on his toes and cupped your ear with his hand. His skin was fresh and yours was burning from the contact.
- Do you have any wish, Yoite?
You looked up, at the young leaves dangling over you.
You shook your head.
- I have a wish.
You looked at Miharu, his face so close to yours. You looked at him and you didn’t need to ask anything.
- I wish you could be with me. Without any reason. Not because you need me to disappear.
His lips brushed lightly over your lobe. You closed your eyes, the light passing through the leaves stamping drawings on your eyelids.
And you ran, you ran like that bloody day years before. You ran till Yukimi’s car, till your lungs were almost bursting. It was the first time his lips touched you.
When you arrived at home Yukimi looked at you, he gently brushed his hand over your cheek.
- If you want you can listen to some music here, Yoite.
You looked at him and nodded. You looked at him walking towards the door. You wish you could be allowed to live, to say “Thank you” and “I love you”.
The cassette-player poured its notes inside the little space of the car. You hooked your knees up. You wished the music you loved so much, the music you couldn’t hear any more, could erase that tingling on your lobe, that tingling descending inside of you, passing through the cotton and the clouds, filling your ears.
xposted at30_kisses and nabari_no_ou