According to geological findings, each year the islands of Greece are sinking deeper into the sea… and will one day disappear.
Anon would like Greece + Japan
Where Greece has been hiding the fact that he is dying and won’t be around for as long as Japan will be.
NOT the anon who promised to do this. If you’re looking for something historically and/or geographically accurate, don’t hope to find it here. :D
There are also scene jumps and time jumps.
- - - -
That which We Fear
The wind ruffles his hair. It smells of salt and sun-baked sand. Fine grains slowly bury his toes and it feels pleasantly tingly and warm. He wants to stay like this forever, but the sweet scent of honey cakes overwhelms him. Blindly, he pivots and crashes into his mother’s arms.
“My child,” she says in an ancient tongue he will never forget. “Do not wander off into the sea.”
He looks up at her and sees her neck, smooth and slender, like the marble pillars of the temples in the city. He reaches up to touch it but his small brown arms can barely get past his mother’s waist. Her hazel eyes are fixed at a distance, icy and cold quite unlike her. He tries to follow her gaze to see what she dislikes seeing. His grip tightens on her cotton skirt.
“Herakles,” she begins like she’s telling him a story again, only this time, her tone is much more solemn. He wonders why that is.
They sit on the sand, on the white shore as vast as the water ahead. “The sea gives life and the sea takes life away,” his mother tells him. She then scoops him up in her arms and holds him close to her breast.
“Be kind to him and he will be kind to you,” she whispers in his ear and for a while, they watch as the foamy waves try and reach them, but they can’t.
He’s dozing off to his mother’s crooning, but somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, he hears her talking to an old man, or perhaps a man with a deep voice. A deep wise voice and they are laughing.
The laughter sounds like the roars of the sea.
- - - -
“Greece-san?”
His green eyes snap open in surprise, any remnants of his dream floating away as his mind clears. Kiku’s worried face comes into focus.
“Ah,” says Herakles with amusement in his voice. “I fell asleep again.”
Kiku smiles in relief. “I think we’d better go. It’s getting dark and the tide is coming in.”
True, the waves are lapping at the hem of Kiku’s yukata and the sides of Herakles’s pants are getting wet. Quietly, they stand and head back to the car. Kiku takes the driver’s seat (“You’re horrible when you drive, Greece-san. Besides, I know enough of the road to take us back to your house.”) and waits for his companion to get in beside him.
Herakles takes one last look at the sea rolling in before leaving. He knows it’s not the tide. The tide comes in much later at night. That is the sea coming to take him.
- - - -
There was an old farmer in the Okinawa prefecture that lived next to an exorcist.
Every night, he roamed his fields because he disliked hearing demons being extracted from humans or the dead coming back to life. But there were times when he was too exhausted to stay away and came back before the sun rose. He’d meet devastated lovers or desperate mothers, pet owners even. Some resurrections made it, some didn’t. Either way, the exorcist’s clients almost always left crying.
Kiku remembers the times he’s shared with the farmer, and all the tribulations he’s confessed. One of them stands out in his mind the most.
“Honda-sama, I know that your honor is your highest moral, but do not martyr yourself over silly things.”
Kiku sits quietly, sipping a cup of offered tea, wondering what could be considered silly that his children gutted themselves over and feels he’s inclined to disagree. But at that moment, he and the farmer see a couple leave the exorcist’s house, one alive, one dead. The one alive is crying.
The farmer sighs and sips his own tea. “When you die, you don’t hurt yourself, because you’re dead. The ones you hurt the most are those you leave behind.”
That which We Fear [2/?]
anonymous
January 3 2010, 03:39:39 UTC
Kiku blinks and watches the lovers again. She tears at her hair and grovels at the exorcist’s feet. His heart is torn between pity and duty.
“It’s too late when we realize that we have to cherish our loved ones while they’re still alive.”
- - - -
It is summer and there is no wind that rings the chimes in the dojo.
“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” Kiku says as Herakles rolls over and stretches. The tatami is warm.
He sits up and idly watches as Pochi’s tail swishes in front of his face. The cats are playing with her. It’s an unlikely friendship, he thinks.
“Tired?” Kiku comes back from the kitchen with a square watermelon for them to share.
“Quite.” He replies and they sit on Kiku’s porch, eating watermelon and watching the earth turn.
It is peace that he will miss. He fights off sleep but he feels the waves coming in again, despite the distance of half a world. His chest feels heavy, like he’s drowning or more people are moving to the capital.
“Greece-san?”
He coughs and Kiku starts.
“Greece-san!” There is a small hand on his back, soothing and warm. But it leaves along with socked footsteps hurrying to the kitchen.
“Do tell me if you aren’t feeling alright,” Kiku admonishes as he drinks the glass of water thrust in his hands. Ironic, he thinks again, the thing consuming him provides temporary relief.
“Must be the weather,” he says and smiles a bit to offer comfort.
Kiku draws back, eyes softening. He’s not a stranger to turbulent weather. “Is it bad over there?”
Herakles looks at the sky and wonders when. I’m dying he wants to say. “It could be worse,” instead he offers. His lands could be sinking twice the rate they are now.
Kiku cannot read his expression, but he’s seen the news and knows of earthquake warnings. “You need to rest. No wonder you’ve been feeling tired.”
A surprisingly strong grip stops him from getting a futon. Kiku looks questioningly at his companion and finally sees a glimpse of what he’s thinking through the slight crease between his eyebrows that really shouldn’t be there.
He knows the look all too well; it’s someone bearing a burden on their own.
Kiku is at a loss, but lets himself calm down and returns to Herakles’s side. He’s horrible at giving comfort, and dislikes invading personal space, but today, he makes an exception and fights a whimper of discomfort when the Greek slides his arm around him.
The warm hand on his shoulder feels small and Kiku feels scared at what he doesn’t know.
- - - -
They are on the beach again, or at least Kiku’s on the old, whitewashed dock and Herakles is down by the shore. The lunch they packed is getting cold. Kiku hesitates to call him because Herakles looks like he’s talking to the water. An ancient language Kiku himself might have had once, long ago when he was young, but lost to burnt pages, rock cliffs and tales of old.
“You are a good boy, my son.” A large bearded old man comes into view, donned in blue and rocking in a rickety old fishing boat. “But this land is not yours. It is hers.” He spreads his large arms wide as if they are covering the Aegean Sea.
Kiku strains to hear them over the high wind. It’s rude to eavesdrop, but he feels a need to know. He cannot hear Herakles’s replies. They’re too soft or perhaps he’s not talking at all.
“I made a promise to your mother. If only she can see you now.”
They hug, as best they can with a boat between them, like proud father and son. Kiku then notices that the whitewashed dock he’s standing on is now five times nearer to the water than five years ago.
Fear grips his heart.
- - - -
“I’ve got good news and bad news.”
The hospital door slams shut, waking him out of a restless sleep. His irritation sparks when he sees who’s come to visit.
That which We Fear [3/3]
anonymous
January 3 2010, 03:41:35 UTC
“…what are you doing here?”
“In case ya didn’ know, I sent help. Y’could at least be grateful, y’little brat.”
Herakles sighs as Sadiq makes himself comfortable on the couch in his hospital room. The place is littered with flowers and well-wishes for the speedy recovery of his health. The earthquake had not been as devastating as the seismologists had predicted. It helped that not a lot of people were living by the shores anymore. They had been evacuated before worst of the quake hit them.
“How’s Santorini?”
“Screw Santorini, it’s you who’s the issue here.”
Herakles sits up. As much as he enjoys beds, the ones in hospitals don’t bode well for him. He sees Sadiq lounging on the couch, examining a basket of fruits before eating one. Silence expands between them as he waits for Sadiq to swallow his bite.
“You’re sinking faster than before.”
A thud of plastic hits the carpeted floor. Herakles and Sadiq turn their attention to the door.
Kiku is standing there horrified.
- - - -
A year passes between them.
They’re not on the shore anymore. There is no shore. They’ve taken off their shoes before they sit on the dock. The gentle pulsing waves lap at their toes.
“…you didn’t tell me.” Kiku is still bitter, but more sad than angry.
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“You didn’t want me to care.” Angry at himself for not being able to stop this.
Herakles starts at the stinging reply, but relaxes as he feels how tight Kiku’s gripping his hand. A large wave consumes their ankles before subsiding, leaving loose kelp clinging to their feet.
“…I didn’t want to think my days would be marked,” he says. “If you were to die the next day, what would you do?”
Kiku sits up and thinks. He would want to do a number of things. Spend time with his family and make amends. Visit Arthur and Alfred, whom he really never got to thank personally. Eat some of Feliciano’s pasta or Ludwig’s cakes because he will definitely miss them.
And he realizes a weight blooming in his chest at the thought of doing such things because he’s coming to the end. He realizes he doesn’t want to do them after all, because it will be painful for himself and his loved ones, knowing that he will be gone, if of course, he were to die soon.
Kiku remembers the farmer from Okinawa and understands.
In a final fit of stubbornness, he leans once more on his friend’s shoulder and whispers, “You will leave me.”
Herakles smiles. “But I am right here.”
They imagine, for a golden moment, they’ve got all the time in the world.
Re: That which We Fear [3/3]
anonymous
January 3 2010, 06:36:08 UTC
OP HERE!!!! AUTHOR ANON THANK YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH! This was... ;_;.. this is... this is exactly what I wanted. I can't even begin to describe how well done this is. I absolutely loved it. Beautiful, well thought out, clever, and ultimately an emotion-inspiring work, anon. I am so glad you picked this up. The whole way you used Greece's sleeping as the sea as a villainous personification. Just. Gorgeous. You captured both Japan and Greece perfectly in my opinion, and you just hit everything, and more.
Re: That which We Fear [3/3]
anonymous
January 3 2010, 16:10:50 UTC
I have a soft spot for bittersweet stories. This was just so beautiful! I am starting to become a real fan of Greece and Japan due to wonderful writers like you. Thank you so much for filling this and keep up the good work!
Re: That which We Fear [3/3]
anonymous
January 4 2010, 11:59:47 UTC
This really was an absolutely beautiful piece, anon. The way everything flowed together; the memories and dreams, not to mention the interaction between them... Aaah, you’ve done an absolutely wonderful job with the prompt ♥
According to geological findings, each year the islands of Greece are sinking deeper into the sea… and will one day disappear.
Anon would like Greece + Japan
Where Greece has been hiding the fact that he is dying and won’t be around for as long as Japan will be.
NOT the anon who promised to do this. If you’re looking for something historically and/or geographically accurate, don’t hope to find it here. :D
There are also scene jumps and time jumps.
- - - -
That which We Fear
The wind ruffles his hair. It smells of salt and sun-baked sand. Fine grains slowly bury his toes and it feels pleasantly tingly and warm. He wants to stay like this forever, but the sweet scent of honey cakes overwhelms him. Blindly, he pivots and crashes into his mother’s arms.
“My child,” she says in an ancient tongue he will never forget. “Do not wander off into the sea.”
He looks up at her and sees her neck, smooth and slender, like the marble pillars of the temples in the city. He reaches up to touch it but his small brown arms can barely get past his mother’s waist. Her hazel eyes are fixed at a distance, icy and cold quite unlike her. He tries to follow her gaze to see what she dislikes seeing. His grip tightens on her cotton skirt.
“Herakles,” she begins like she’s telling him a story again, only this time, her tone is much more solemn. He wonders why that is.
They sit on the sand, on the white shore as vast as the water ahead. “The sea gives life and the sea takes life away,” his mother tells him. She then scoops him up in her arms and holds him close to her breast.
“Be kind to him and he will be kind to you,” she whispers in his ear and for a while, they watch as the foamy waves try and reach them, but they can’t.
He’s dozing off to his mother’s crooning, but somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, he hears her talking to an old man, or perhaps a man with a deep voice. A deep wise voice and they are laughing.
The laughter sounds like the roars of the sea.
- - - -
“Greece-san?”
His green eyes snap open in surprise, any remnants of his dream floating away as his mind clears. Kiku’s worried face comes into focus.
“Ah,” says Herakles with amusement in his voice. “I fell asleep again.”
Kiku smiles in relief. “I think we’d better go. It’s getting dark and the tide is coming in.”
True, the waves are lapping at the hem of Kiku’s yukata and the sides of Herakles’s pants are getting wet. Quietly, they stand and head back to the car. Kiku takes the driver’s seat (“You’re horrible when you drive, Greece-san. Besides, I know enough of the road to take us back to your house.”) and waits for his companion to get in beside him.
Herakles takes one last look at the sea rolling in before leaving. He knows it’s not the tide. The tide comes in much later at night. That is the sea coming to take him.
- - - -
There was an old farmer in the Okinawa prefecture that lived next to an exorcist.
Every night, he roamed his fields because he disliked hearing demons being extracted from humans or the dead coming back to life. But there were times when he was too exhausted to stay away and came back before the sun rose. He’d meet devastated lovers or desperate mothers, pet owners even. Some resurrections made it, some didn’t. Either way, the exorcist’s clients almost always left crying.
Kiku remembers the times he’s shared with the farmer, and all the tribulations he’s confessed. One of them stands out in his mind the most.
“Honda-sama, I know that your honor is your highest moral, but do not martyr yourself over silly things.”
Kiku sits quietly, sipping a cup of offered tea, wondering what could be considered silly that his children gutted themselves over and feels he’s inclined to disagree. But at that moment, he and the farmer see a couple leave the exorcist’s house, one alive, one dead. The one alive is crying.
The farmer sighs and sips his own tea. “When you die, you don’t hurt yourself, because you’re dead. The ones you hurt the most are those you leave behind.”
Reply
“It’s too late when we realize that we have to cherish our loved ones while they’re still alive.”
- - - -
It is summer and there is no wind that rings the chimes in the dojo.
“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” Kiku says as Herakles rolls over and stretches. The tatami is warm.
He sits up and idly watches as Pochi’s tail swishes in front of his face. The cats are playing with her. It’s an unlikely friendship, he thinks.
“Tired?” Kiku comes back from the kitchen with a square watermelon for them to share.
“Quite.” He replies and they sit on Kiku’s porch, eating watermelon and watching the earth turn.
It is peace that he will miss. He fights off sleep but he feels the waves coming in again, despite the distance of half a world. His chest feels heavy, like he’s drowning or more people are moving to the capital.
“Greece-san?”
He coughs and Kiku starts.
“Greece-san!” There is a small hand on his back, soothing and warm. But it leaves along with socked footsteps hurrying to the kitchen.
“Do tell me if you aren’t feeling alright,” Kiku admonishes as he drinks the glass of water thrust in his hands. Ironic, he thinks again, the thing consuming him provides temporary relief.
“Must be the weather,” he says and smiles a bit to offer comfort.
Kiku draws back, eyes softening. He’s not a stranger to turbulent weather. “Is it bad over there?”
Herakles looks at the sky and wonders when. I’m dying he wants to say. “It could be worse,” instead he offers. His lands could be sinking twice the rate they are now.
Kiku cannot read his expression, but he’s seen the news and knows of earthquake warnings. “You need to rest. No wonder you’ve been feeling tired.”
A surprisingly strong grip stops him from getting a futon. Kiku looks questioningly at his companion and finally sees a glimpse of what he’s thinking through the slight crease between his eyebrows that really shouldn’t be there.
He knows the look all too well; it’s someone bearing a burden on their own.
Kiku is at a loss, but lets himself calm down and returns to Herakles’s side. He’s horrible at giving comfort, and dislikes invading personal space, but today, he makes an exception and fights a whimper of discomfort when the Greek slides his arm around him.
The warm hand on his shoulder feels small and Kiku feels scared at what he doesn’t know.
- - - -
They are on the beach again, or at least Kiku’s on the old, whitewashed dock and Herakles is down by the shore. The lunch they packed is getting cold. Kiku hesitates to call him because Herakles looks like he’s talking to the water. An ancient language Kiku himself might have had once, long ago when he was young, but lost to burnt pages, rock cliffs and tales of old.
“You are a good boy, my son.” A large bearded old man comes into view, donned in blue and rocking in a rickety old fishing boat. “But this land is not yours. It is hers.” He spreads his large arms wide as if they are covering the Aegean Sea.
Kiku strains to hear them over the high wind. It’s rude to eavesdrop, but he feels a need to know. He cannot hear Herakles’s replies. They’re too soft or perhaps he’s not talking at all.
“I made a promise to your mother. If only she can see you now.”
They hug, as best they can with a boat between them, like proud father and son. Kiku then notices that the whitewashed dock he’s standing on is now five times nearer to the water than five years ago.
Fear grips his heart.
- - - -
“I’ve got good news and bad news.”
The hospital door slams shut, waking him out of a restless sleep. His irritation sparks when he sees who’s come to visit.
Reply
“In case ya didn’ know, I sent help. Y’could at least be grateful, y’little brat.”
Herakles sighs as Sadiq makes himself comfortable on the couch in his hospital room. The place is littered with flowers and well-wishes for the speedy recovery of his health. The earthquake had not been as devastating as the seismologists had predicted. It helped that not a lot of people were living by the shores anymore. They had been evacuated before worst of the quake hit them.
“How’s Santorini?”
“Screw Santorini, it’s you who’s the issue here.”
Herakles sits up. As much as he enjoys beds, the ones in hospitals don’t bode well for him. He sees Sadiq lounging on the couch, examining a basket of fruits before eating one. Silence expands between them as he waits for Sadiq to swallow his bite.
“You’re sinking faster than before.”
A thud of plastic hits the carpeted floor. Herakles and Sadiq turn their attention to the door.
Kiku is standing there horrified.
- - - -
A year passes between them.
They’re not on the shore anymore. There is no shore. They’ve taken off their shoes before they sit on the dock. The gentle pulsing waves lap at their toes.
“…you didn’t tell me.” Kiku is still bitter, but more sad than angry.
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“You didn’t want me to care.” Angry at himself for not being able to stop this.
Herakles starts at the stinging reply, but relaxes as he feels how tight Kiku’s gripping his hand. A large wave consumes their ankles before subsiding, leaving loose kelp clinging to their feet.
“…I didn’t want to think my days would be marked,” he says. “If you were to die the next day, what would you do?”
Kiku sits up and thinks. He would want to do a number of things. Spend time with his family and make amends. Visit Arthur and Alfred, whom he really never got to thank personally. Eat some of Feliciano’s pasta or Ludwig’s cakes because he will definitely miss them.
And he realizes a weight blooming in his chest at the thought of doing such things because he’s coming to the end. He realizes he doesn’t want to do them after all, because it will be painful for himself and his loved ones, knowing that he will be gone, if of course, he were to die soon.
Kiku remembers the farmer from Okinawa and understands.
In a final fit of stubbornness, he leans once more on his friend’s shoulder and whispers, “You will leave me.”
Herakles smiles. “But I am right here.”
They imagine, for a golden moment, they’ve got all the time in the world.
END
- - - -
I hope I did not fail you OP! /runs in shame
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Absolutely beautiful
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;_; Thanks anon.
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Thank you ;_;. So much. I love this story.
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This was pretty, though. All soft and sad.
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/sobs
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