To Soleil et Pluie, From Rhap-Chan ♥
Title: The Journey is the (Only) Thing
Author: rhap_chan
Recipient: soleil_et_pluie
Series: Tsubasa/xxxHOLiC
Characters/Pairing: Fai gen; Tsubasa cast; Yuuko
Rating: R for onscreen corpse
Author's Notes/Warnings [if any]: see above
Disclaimer: Tsubasa/xxxHOLiC belongs to CLAMP. This fanfic is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.
Summary: He couldn't remember the names of a lot of places now. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, not to remember. Perhaps it was simply that there was no one to tell him. He was alone. Post apocalyptic AU!British Fai on his journey to see the woman who grants wishes.
Fai D. Flowright had been walking for three days when he entered the silent city. Three days, he thought. A magic number. There will be something here.
He pulled his battered leather jacket closer around himself and reached up without thinking to touch the huge wooden staff slung across his back. It was secure. So Fai continued walking. It wasn't so bad in Tokyo, not anymore. The refugees who dared return to their city were few, even nine years after the Disaster. Nine years-three times three. It is here.
The problem was, he didn't quite know what he was looking for. He slunk into the shadows and therein attempted to navigate the city in silence.
*
Tokyo was large and Fai had only been there once before, on a diplomatic excursion in his old life. Back then, he had had a driver, and a cell phone; both had occupied his time much more than the city itself had. He lived in London, a city nearly as large and much older, or so it had seemed to the blonde diplomat. Tokyo wasn't that special.
Except really, it was, though he hadn't known it then-none of them had. But the Disaster had begun here (still, no one knew how-most of those who understood the technology were long dead), and here it had ended, in utter silence.
Fai had no driver this time. He had no country, to be honest. The country he had served so earnestly was dead, at least as a coherent nation. Perhaps a tenth of his people had survived-likely less. They needed no king, even with his father and the rest of his family dead. He had left. He had swum the English Channel-a feat few had accomplished, but one he had done twice now. Once it was in front of cameras, with thousands looking on at their brave prince. The second time, he had to push corpses out of his way, and the waters had been choppy and treacherous. He had barely made it. He thought sometimes that he would never swim again.
And he had wandered the nameless shores of France for nearly a week, aimlessly. He tried to remember what it was called, the place he had landed. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember the names of a lot of places now. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, not to remember. Perhaps it was simply that there was no one to tell him. He was alone.
He was really alone. Fai had thought that perhaps someone would come to get him. After a week he started working his way inland, staying in musty inns and empty houses when he could. Many people had died in their own backyards, in their places of work-not at home. They couldn't be cooped up there, not with something like this going on. So the places were empty. He'd thought for a while that maybe he was the only person in France. When he found out he was wrong, he still rarely emerged to greet them.
He had been living on the outskirts of Paris for six months, scavenging, reading, contemplating suicide, when Ashura came.
*
The alleyways that Fai walked were well-kept, even with the stray cats that roamed the city constantly twining around his ankles. Some still wore scraps of collar, but those cats were few. They were mostly feral now, and cats reproduced swiftly. Many of these animals had never seen a human being, Fai reflected. It was not a surprise, but it was a sad thought, and he tucked it away. He was nearly at his destination.
He had traveled thousands of miles to get here. When he had arrived in Paris, he had still been pretty clean, thin but not in an unhealthy way, with soft feet and little survival knowledge. He had had a great deal of good luck, to live this long. He had been steadily journeying east for a very long time-even since his encounter with Ashura, in fact. And now he was here. He had trusted his intuition to drag him across continents. His intuitions, and his dreams.
She'll help me, he thought. When we meet.
He tried not to think about it too much, moving steadily east across the alleyways and byways of the city. He paused to eat in the shadow of a high school, though he didn't go in. There was no one on the swings, but still they swung in the breeze. There had been someone, he thought. Whoever it was had fled, likely into the school, but he didn't want company either. He finished his food and walked on. He was close.
*
He'd woken up because he heard breathing. Those were the days, when he could sleep deeply without an ear to the ground. He hadn't slept so deeply since. His eyes flew open and met dark brown ones. Their owner smiled, and bowed deeply.
"My king," he said.
Fai blinked. It was Ashura, his father's old manservant. Fai hadn't seen him when he'd left England. He'd thought the man dead with all the rest. He looked as though he hadn't aged a day. He was still bowing. Fai waved his hand self-consciously.
"It is good I have found you now," the man said, smiling broadly. Fai noticed something a little scary in that smile. It was… not quite sincere, perhaps. Sideways. A bit mad, really. He swallowed and felt very vulnerable in his bed. He grabbed the covers in his hands, for lack of anything else. His knife was in his boot at the foot of the bed. He wouldn't be able to move fast enough to grab it. And in any case, Ashura had a gigantic wooden staff strapped to his back. He'd be very fast. One strike would probably do it from an object that heavy.
Fai swallowed. He couldn't figure out why he was thinking like this. Ashura had been devoted to his family. They wouldn't fight. Why would they fight?
"Yes?" he ventured, his voice cracking from sleep. Ashura nodded smoothly.
"You can come back and resume the throne, your majesty. I have taken care of the dissenters, as your father would have liked me to."
His eyes were utterly cool. Fai wanted to ask how Ashura had taken care of the dissenters, but said instead, "I'm not coming back."
He had been incredulous at the mere suggestion, but the way Ashura's brow furrowed was not a good sign. He'd rarely seen the manservant angry, but he didn't like it.
"But you must, sire! Your court awaits!"
"There is no court," Fai replied. "There is no England. Not anymore."
"Sire!" Ashura rebuked. "Do you not carry the tattoos of your rank upon your back?"
Fai nodded after a moment.
"Then there is England! I have a boat hired, your majesty. We can be home by dusk."
Fai clenched at the bedcovers more fiercely. "I'm not going," he said, somehow managing to sound like a petulant child.
"You are," Ashura said confidently, and began to pack his master's things.
*
Fai paused in a silent Tokyo intersection and stopped moving. A passerby might have mistaken him for a statue, he was so still. Then he heard it again. There was a voice.
The sun was beginning to ride low in the sky. Fai waited a few moments for more twilight before he resumed moving again, headed towards the voice. He could hear the woman calling every five minutes or so, her voice strong but sad. Her voice grew louder as he drew closer, but the timber didn't change. Wherever she was, she couldn't see him. She was hoping for a miracle.
He paused in front of a small building nestled in-between two modern ones. It was a small antique shop, or so it seemed, the room half-fallen in, and it looked abandoned. But the yelling woman was inside. She called again for help.
Fai hesitated a moment before striding down the walk, the darkness chasing his feet. He knocked three times. The woman paused mid-scream.
"Hello? Is someone there?" she asked. "The door is open!"
He pushed on the dusty door and stepped to one side as it opened, revealing little more than darkness beyond. There was the soft glow of a lantern near the back of the large front room. He could see her face in that glow-garnet-eyed, red-cheeked, scared. She was sitting on the ground, her pale arms resting on a large doll or man-sized corpse she had cradled in her lap. She licked her lips nervously.
"Sir?"
"What need do you have, madam?" Fai asked politely without entering. Without warning, she began to cry. She stroked the cheek of the dead man in her arms before answering-Fai was sure now that it was a man. He could smell decay. His gorge rose in his throat but he fought it down. He had seen worse. He would see worse.
"If you would help me to bury my son, I would do anything for you. Anything you ask," she said, her voice low. He couldn't help himself-he had to step into the doorway to hear the end of her sentence. As he did, something flashed in the lamplight. He ducked without thinking, the blood pounding in his ears as he saw the glittering thread strung at throat-height just inside the doorway.
The woman laughed. Her laugh was deep, short, and terrible. Gently she lowered the man's body to the floor and rose to her feet, revealing an ornate period costume completely inappropriate for this day and age. The skin of her thighs glittered in the same way the threads did.
"It will not harm you. It is… a discouragement to those who might wish to harm me."
"How long has he been dead?" Fai asked, still crouched close to the ground. His hand rose to finger the staff at his back and then, for some reason, he rested his fingertips on his neck, at the edge of his royal tattoos.
"A couple of weeks," she said, striding towards him. He couldn't hear her footsteps, but he did hear it as she carefully slit the threads and tucked them away into an inner pocket. She handled them with care and Fai was very glad he hadn't walked into them. He didn't know what they were, but he didn't want to find out firsthand.
"And no," she said, looking down at him, "he is not my son. I purchased him on these streets after the Disaster from a protector who could no longer protect him. He was to be mine, anyway-I could see it in his mismatched eyes. But time has gone a little askew here. Don't you think?"
Fai had no idea what she was talking about. She offered her hand. He rose slowly from his crouch and looked at her. She smiled.
"I am the one you seek. I can give you whatever you desire. What do you desire, young prince?"
"To flee my country," Fai said. She nodded. He rose, and took her hand.
*
It took three tries for Fai to escape Ashura. He tried twice on the way to the boat, but the older man had gently strapped him onto the back of a motorcycle-for his own safety, he said sadly-and drove, obeying all speed limits, to the docks. Fai fought more the closer they got. He had no place at home anymore, he knew. If Ashura dragged him back, his "people" would surely take him to pieces. But nothing he said could convince the manservant, whom he was now sure was mad.
When they neared the English shore, Ashura loosed his bonds. Fai fell to the ground as the blood slowly returned to his appendages. He lay there with his head pressed against the deck (and though Ashura was still careful to call him by his title and bow respectfully, he made no move to right the king) and vowed escape. But not then.
He stayed at the palace for two whole days, pacing the place like an errant tiger. Ashura had to sleep sometime. Finally, he decided to help. It was oddly easy to sneak up on the man and strike him down with the wooden staff he so valued. Fai fled with the staff to the countryside. As he anticipated, Ashura searched the docks extensively. When he began to move inward, that's when Fai made his move.
It wasn't any easier to swim with a staff strapped to his back, but he did it. He'd been moving east ever since. He knew Ashura was following. He couldn't look back.
*
The lady told Fai her name was Yuuko and the ease with which she spoke both Japanese and English made him wonder, but everything about this place was odd. This was the place he was supposed to be, he thought. He knew. This was his destination.
That didn't put him any more at ease.
Yuuko led Fai back through the dark hallways and out onto a grassy backyard. To his utter surprise, there were others here-a young boy who cradled an unconscious girl in the same way Yuuko had held her servant (the thought made him shiver), and a dark-haired, angry-looking man who held his hand against what looked like an antique samurai sword.
The boy and the dark-haired man looked up when Yuuko approached, their faces wary. The boy ran a hand through his hair nervously and then looked back down at his girl, his face worried. The dark-haired man's frown deepened.
"Is that everyone then?" he asked sarcastically. A strange accent colored his speech and Fai couldn't quite place it.
"No, it is not," Yuuko said, standing before the two others. Fai joined the improvised line, feeling absurdly like they were picking out sports teams.
"It is not everyone we need, but it is everyone fate has given us. This world is not an easy one. This journey is not easy. It is not right. It is not wrong," she said. The dark-haired man grunted in disgust at her vagueness. Fai studied him from the corner of his eye. He couldn't place the man's clothing in a culture either. He wore dark blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt, rolled at the sleeves. He sort of looked like a greaser from 1950's America, minus the bad hair.
"It is all we have," she said, raising her hands in the air. "It is hitsuzen. Are you ready? First, we will bury my dear servant. And then I will grant your wish."
"But-"
The speaker was the boy, who hadn't said a word since Fai's arrival. His voice was nearly lost in the swiftly dimming light.
"Yes?" Yuuko said, lifting her eyebrow.
"But what is it you are seeking?" he asked, looking up from the girl. Fai could see old tear tracks on his face and felt a wave of compassion for him.
"I am seeking you, of course," she said, grinning ferally. "Now, let's begin."
Author: rhap_chan
Recipient: soleil_et_pluie
Series: Tsubasa/xxxHOLiC
Characters/Pairing: Fai gen; Tsubasa cast; Yuuko
Rating: R for onscreen corpse
Author's Notes/Warnings [if any]: see above
Disclaimer: Tsubasa/xxxHOLiC belongs to CLAMP. This fanfic is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.
Summary: He couldn't remember the names of a lot of places now. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, not to remember. Perhaps it was simply that there was no one to tell him. He was alone. Post apocalyptic AU!British Fai on his journey to see the woman who grants wishes.
Fai D. Flowright had been walking for three days when he entered the silent city. Three days, he thought. A magic number. There will be something here.
He pulled his battered leather jacket closer around himself and reached up without thinking to touch the huge wooden staff slung across his back. It was secure. So Fai continued walking. It wasn't so bad in Tokyo, not anymore. The refugees who dared return to their city were few, even nine years after the Disaster. Nine years-three times three. It is here.
The problem was, he didn't quite know what he was looking for. He slunk into the shadows and therein attempted to navigate the city in silence.
*
Tokyo was large and Fai had only been there once before, on a diplomatic excursion in his old life. Back then, he had had a driver, and a cell phone; both had occupied his time much more than the city itself had. He lived in London, a city nearly as large and much older, or so it had seemed to the blonde diplomat. Tokyo wasn't that special.
Except really, it was, though he hadn't known it then-none of them had. But the Disaster had begun here (still, no one knew how-most of those who understood the technology were long dead), and here it had ended, in utter silence.
Fai had no driver this time. He had no country, to be honest. The country he had served so earnestly was dead, at least as a coherent nation. Perhaps a tenth of his people had survived-likely less. They needed no king, even with his father and the rest of his family dead. He had left. He had swum the English Channel-a feat few had accomplished, but one he had done twice now. Once it was in front of cameras, with thousands looking on at their brave prince. The second time, he had to push corpses out of his way, and the waters had been choppy and treacherous. He had barely made it. He thought sometimes that he would never swim again.
And he had wandered the nameless shores of France for nearly a week, aimlessly. He tried to remember what it was called, the place he had landed. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember the names of a lot of places now. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, not to remember. Perhaps it was simply that there was no one to tell him. He was alone.
He was really alone. Fai had thought that perhaps someone would come to get him. After a week he started working his way inland, staying in musty inns and empty houses when he could. Many people had died in their own backyards, in their places of work-not at home. They couldn't be cooped up there, not with something like this going on. So the places were empty. He'd thought for a while that maybe he was the only person in France. When he found out he was wrong, he still rarely emerged to greet them.
He had been living on the outskirts of Paris for six months, scavenging, reading, contemplating suicide, when Ashura came.
*
The alleyways that Fai walked were well-kept, even with the stray cats that roamed the city constantly twining around his ankles. Some still wore scraps of collar, but those cats were few. They were mostly feral now, and cats reproduced swiftly. Many of these animals had never seen a human being, Fai reflected. It was not a surprise, but it was a sad thought, and he tucked it away. He was nearly at his destination.
He had traveled thousands of miles to get here. When he had arrived in Paris, he had still been pretty clean, thin but not in an unhealthy way, with soft feet and little survival knowledge. He had had a great deal of good luck, to live this long. He had been steadily journeying east for a very long time-even since his encounter with Ashura, in fact. And now he was here. He had trusted his intuition to drag him across continents. His intuitions, and his dreams.
She'll help me, he thought. When we meet.
He tried not to think about it too much, moving steadily east across the alleyways and byways of the city. He paused to eat in the shadow of a high school, though he didn't go in. There was no one on the swings, but still they swung in the breeze. There had been someone, he thought. Whoever it was had fled, likely into the school, but he didn't want company either. He finished his food and walked on. He was close.
*
He'd woken up because he heard breathing. Those were the days, when he could sleep deeply without an ear to the ground. He hadn't slept so deeply since. His eyes flew open and met dark brown ones. Their owner smiled, and bowed deeply.
"My king," he said.
Fai blinked. It was Ashura, his father's old manservant. Fai hadn't seen him when he'd left England. He'd thought the man dead with all the rest. He looked as though he hadn't aged a day. He was still bowing. Fai waved his hand self-consciously.
"It is good I have found you now," the man said, smiling broadly. Fai noticed something a little scary in that smile. It was… not quite sincere, perhaps. Sideways. A bit mad, really. He swallowed and felt very vulnerable in his bed. He grabbed the covers in his hands, for lack of anything else. His knife was in his boot at the foot of the bed. He wouldn't be able to move fast enough to grab it. And in any case, Ashura had a gigantic wooden staff strapped to his back. He'd be very fast. One strike would probably do it from an object that heavy.
Fai swallowed. He couldn't figure out why he was thinking like this. Ashura had been devoted to his family. They wouldn't fight. Why would they fight?
"Yes?" he ventured, his voice cracking from sleep. Ashura nodded smoothly.
"You can come back and resume the throne, your majesty. I have taken care of the dissenters, as your father would have liked me to."
His eyes were utterly cool. Fai wanted to ask how Ashura had taken care of the dissenters, but said instead, "I'm not coming back."
He had been incredulous at the mere suggestion, but the way Ashura's brow furrowed was not a good sign. He'd rarely seen the manservant angry, but he didn't like it.
"But you must, sire! Your court awaits!"
"There is no court," Fai replied. "There is no England. Not anymore."
"Sire!" Ashura rebuked. "Do you not carry the tattoos of your rank upon your back?"
Fai nodded after a moment.
"Then there is England! I have a boat hired, your majesty. We can be home by dusk."
Fai clenched at the bedcovers more fiercely. "I'm not going," he said, somehow managing to sound like a petulant child.
"You are," Ashura said confidently, and began to pack his master's things.
*
Fai paused in a silent Tokyo intersection and stopped moving. A passerby might have mistaken him for a statue, he was so still. Then he heard it again. There was a voice.
The sun was beginning to ride low in the sky. Fai waited a few moments for more twilight before he resumed moving again, headed towards the voice. He could hear the woman calling every five minutes or so, her voice strong but sad. Her voice grew louder as he drew closer, but the timber didn't change. Wherever she was, she couldn't see him. She was hoping for a miracle.
He paused in front of a small building nestled in-between two modern ones. It was a small antique shop, or so it seemed, the room half-fallen in, and it looked abandoned. But the yelling woman was inside. She called again for help.
Fai hesitated a moment before striding down the walk, the darkness chasing his feet. He knocked three times. The woman paused mid-scream.
"Hello? Is someone there?" she asked. "The door is open!"
He pushed on the dusty door and stepped to one side as it opened, revealing little more than darkness beyond. There was the soft glow of a lantern near the back of the large front room. He could see her face in that glow-garnet-eyed, red-cheeked, scared. She was sitting on the ground, her pale arms resting on a large doll or man-sized corpse she had cradled in her lap. She licked her lips nervously.
"Sir?"
"What need do you have, madam?" Fai asked politely without entering. Without warning, she began to cry. She stroked the cheek of the dead man in her arms before answering-Fai was sure now that it was a man. He could smell decay. His gorge rose in his throat but he fought it down. He had seen worse. He would see worse.
"If you would help me to bury my son, I would do anything for you. Anything you ask," she said, her voice low. He couldn't help himself-he had to step into the doorway to hear the end of her sentence. As he did, something flashed in the lamplight. He ducked without thinking, the blood pounding in his ears as he saw the glittering thread strung at throat-height just inside the doorway.
The woman laughed. Her laugh was deep, short, and terrible. Gently she lowered the man's body to the floor and rose to her feet, revealing an ornate period costume completely inappropriate for this day and age. The skin of her thighs glittered in the same way the threads did.
"It will not harm you. It is… a discouragement to those who might wish to harm me."
"How long has he been dead?" Fai asked, still crouched close to the ground. His hand rose to finger the staff at his back and then, for some reason, he rested his fingertips on his neck, at the edge of his royal tattoos.
"A couple of weeks," she said, striding towards him. He couldn't hear her footsteps, but he did hear it as she carefully slit the threads and tucked them away into an inner pocket. She handled them with care and Fai was very glad he hadn't walked into them. He didn't know what they were, but he didn't want to find out firsthand.
"And no," she said, looking down at him, "he is not my son. I purchased him on these streets after the Disaster from a protector who could no longer protect him. He was to be mine, anyway-I could see it in his mismatched eyes. But time has gone a little askew here. Don't you think?"
Fai had no idea what she was talking about. She offered her hand. He rose slowly from his crouch and looked at her. She smiled.
"I am the one you seek. I can give you whatever you desire. What do you desire, young prince?"
"To flee my country," Fai said. She nodded. He rose, and took her hand.
*
It took three tries for Fai to escape Ashura. He tried twice on the way to the boat, but the older man had gently strapped him onto the back of a motorcycle-for his own safety, he said sadly-and drove, obeying all speed limits, to the docks. Fai fought more the closer they got. He had no place at home anymore, he knew. If Ashura dragged him back, his "people" would surely take him to pieces. But nothing he said could convince the manservant, whom he was now sure was mad.
When they neared the English shore, Ashura loosed his bonds. Fai fell to the ground as the blood slowly returned to his appendages. He lay there with his head pressed against the deck (and though Ashura was still careful to call him by his title and bow respectfully, he made no move to right the king) and vowed escape. But not then.
He stayed at the palace for two whole days, pacing the place like an errant tiger. Ashura had to sleep sometime. Finally, he decided to help. It was oddly easy to sneak up on the man and strike him down with the wooden staff he so valued. Fai fled with the staff to the countryside. As he anticipated, Ashura searched the docks extensively. When he began to move inward, that's when Fai made his move.
It wasn't any easier to swim with a staff strapped to his back, but he did it. He'd been moving east ever since. He knew Ashura was following. He couldn't look back.
*
The lady told Fai her name was Yuuko and the ease with which she spoke both Japanese and English made him wonder, but everything about this place was odd. This was the place he was supposed to be, he thought. He knew. This was his destination.
That didn't put him any more at ease.
Yuuko led Fai back through the dark hallways and out onto a grassy backyard. To his utter surprise, there were others here-a young boy who cradled an unconscious girl in the same way Yuuko had held her servant (the thought made him shiver), and a dark-haired, angry-looking man who held his hand against what looked like an antique samurai sword.
The boy and the dark-haired man looked up when Yuuko approached, their faces wary. The boy ran a hand through his hair nervously and then looked back down at his girl, his face worried. The dark-haired man's frown deepened.
"Is that everyone then?" he asked sarcastically. A strange accent colored his speech and Fai couldn't quite place it.
"No, it is not," Yuuko said, standing before the two others. Fai joined the improvised line, feeling absurdly like they were picking out sports teams.
"It is not everyone we need, but it is everyone fate has given us. This world is not an easy one. This journey is not easy. It is not right. It is not wrong," she said. The dark-haired man grunted in disgust at her vagueness. Fai studied him from the corner of his eye. He couldn't place the man's clothing in a culture either. He wore dark blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt, rolled at the sleeves. He sort of looked like a greaser from 1950's America, minus the bad hair.
"It is all we have," she said, raising her hands in the air. "It is hitsuzen. Are you ready? First, we will bury my dear servant. And then I will grant your wish."
"But-"
The speaker was the boy, who hadn't said a word since Fai's arrival. His voice was nearly lost in the swiftly dimming light.
"Yes?" Yuuko said, lifting her eyebrow.
"But what is it you are seeking?" he asked, looking up from the girl. Fai could see old tear tracks on his face and felt a wave of compassion for him.
"I am seeking you, of course," she said, grinning ferally. "Now, let's begin."