[Yami no Matsuei] "Blinding Shadows, Darkening Light" (PG)
Author's Note: Written for < lj user="10_shakespeare">. "Sonnet CXVI Within his bending sickle's compass come". Pre-canon, in which Tsuzuki first meets Tatsumi. Riffing from headcanon of at least one or two YnM fans who've speculated that Tatsumi died during the bombing of Hiroshima.
No offense is intended toward people living or dead. It's historical fiction, dealing semi-immortal beings who exist for quite a while and who've seen death in a multitude of forms, including war deaths.
The city, Hiroshima, lay flattened. Hardly a building stood intact, as far as the eye could see. A deathly stillness hung over the ruins: not a bird chirped, hardly a breath of air moved the black clouds that hung overhead. Fires burned in some of the few buildings left standing and the screams of the survivors rose, keening.
Hundreds and thousands of candles had gone out, all at one time, in the Castle of Candles, a sight that startled the Earl. The Ministry of Hades had every shinigami on the ground, minutes after the blast. Tsuzuki was among them, but the stream of souls that needed help crossing over proved too much for him. He ducked behind a heap of still smoldering wreckage, charred beams that had once belonged to a shop, and sank down on the ashy ground, hugging his tented knees. He had to get away for a moment, away from the other shinigami surrounded by so many souls, many panicking from what had happened, others too stunned to listen to the gentle words of the guardians that tended to them.
What had mankind created? What sort of weapon could flatten a city within moments and leave the wreckage vaporized, if not charred or burning? What manner of cruelty could inspire a weapon that could leave thousands dead, incinerated on contact, thousands more injured, homeless, despairing? Did the Americans even know what this bomb could do? It was one thing to defeat the enemy, it was another to obliterate the opposition and drag scores of civilians into the combat, a war that they had had utterly nothing to do with.
Someone coughed below him. Tsuzuki raised his head, looking about, following the sound. He spied a young man about his own age, clad in a very western brown suit, cleaning a pair of pince-nez glasses before putting them back on and leaning down to examine a shadow outlined in soot on the blasted roadbed.
Tsuzuki rose and approached the young man, then paused, trying not to stare at him. Up close, the young man looked breath-takingly handsome, though disheveled. He looked like the sort of precise young man who never let a hair fall out place and who always wore neatly pressed suits, but now, he looked like he had gotten caught in a violent wind, his rumpled clothes covered in ash. Tsuzuki did not want to think of where those cinders had come from.
The shadow outline at his feet matched the young man's trim silhouette, a shape beside it that might have been the outline of a briefcase and some scattered papers, but the blast had incinerated them along with their owner.
"Well, that quarterly report is going to have to wait," the young man said dryly, as he stood up.
"Yeah... I'm sorry about that," Tsuzuki said, chuckling a bit, but the chuckle sounded sad even in his ears.
"Don't be: this sort of thing happens in a war," the young man said, nonchalantly, as if he spoke of the simple loss of his paperwork.
"It shouldn't have had to happen this way," Tsuzuki said, taking his hands from his sleeves. "And I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me."
The young man looked him up and down with calm eyes as blue as the sky, or as blue as the sky would look on an ordinary summer day. "You're a shinigami," he observed, calmly, even in a matter of fact tone. This came as a far cry from the way people had reacted to Tsuzuki all day.
"I'm with the Summons Section of the Ministry of Hades," Tsuzuki replied. "I've come to help you across into the next life."
"Well, I suppose there's nothing left to keep me here," the young man said, with a final glance around them. "I'm Seiichirou Tatsumi," he said, bowing deeply. "I am, or I was, an accountant for a paper plant, but I suppose I don't have a job to go back to, even if I had survived the blast."
"I'm Asato Tsuzuki," he replied, bowing. "Do you have any family here in the city?" he asked, concerned.
"None here in the city, and none who would be mourning me," Tatsumi admitted.
That's too sad, Tsuzuki thought. He really doesn't have anyone left. Out loud, he said, "Let's get you out of here before too long; I don't want you to get stuck here, and there's too many souls who've gone astray because of this war."
"Better to be prompt about your work than to drag your heels," Tatsumi replied. And he said this with a condescending note that got under Tsuzuki's skin and made him think, Don't tell me how to do my job. You've only been dead for less than hour, geez!
"Aha, right," Tsuzuki said, swallowing his irritation and chuckling a bit. He quickly composing himself. "You sure you have nothing to hold you back? No unfinished business?"
"Not a thing, aside from the job that I lost," Tatsumi replied.
"Well then," Tsuzuki said, holding his hand out to the newcomer. "Take my hand."
Tatsumi reached out and took it, allowing Tsuzuki to draw him across the veil, away from the desolation and under the cherry blossoms of Meifu....
No offense is intended toward people living or dead. It's historical fiction, dealing semi-immortal beings who exist for quite a while and who've seen death in a multitude of forms, including war deaths.
The city, Hiroshima, lay flattened. Hardly a building stood intact, as far as the eye could see. A deathly stillness hung over the ruins: not a bird chirped, hardly a breath of air moved the black clouds that hung overhead. Fires burned in some of the few buildings left standing and the screams of the survivors rose, keening.
Hundreds and thousands of candles had gone out, all at one time, in the Castle of Candles, a sight that startled the Earl. The Ministry of Hades had every shinigami on the ground, minutes after the blast. Tsuzuki was among them, but the stream of souls that needed help crossing over proved too much for him. He ducked behind a heap of still smoldering wreckage, charred beams that had once belonged to a shop, and sank down on the ashy ground, hugging his tented knees. He had to get away for a moment, away from the other shinigami surrounded by so many souls, many panicking from what had happened, others too stunned to listen to the gentle words of the guardians that tended to them.
What had mankind created? What sort of weapon could flatten a city within moments and leave the wreckage vaporized, if not charred or burning? What manner of cruelty could inspire a weapon that could leave thousands dead, incinerated on contact, thousands more injured, homeless, despairing? Did the Americans even know what this bomb could do? It was one thing to defeat the enemy, it was another to obliterate the opposition and drag scores of civilians into the combat, a war that they had had utterly nothing to do with.
Someone coughed below him. Tsuzuki raised his head, looking about, following the sound. He spied a young man about his own age, clad in a very western brown suit, cleaning a pair of pince-nez glasses before putting them back on and leaning down to examine a shadow outlined in soot on the blasted roadbed.
Tsuzuki rose and approached the young man, then paused, trying not to stare at him. Up close, the young man looked breath-takingly handsome, though disheveled. He looked like the sort of precise young man who never let a hair fall out place and who always wore neatly pressed suits, but now, he looked like he had gotten caught in a violent wind, his rumpled clothes covered in ash. Tsuzuki did not want to think of where those cinders had come from.
The shadow outline at his feet matched the young man's trim silhouette, a shape beside it that might have been the outline of a briefcase and some scattered papers, but the blast had incinerated them along with their owner.
"Well, that quarterly report is going to have to wait," the young man said dryly, as he stood up.
"Yeah... I'm sorry about that," Tsuzuki said, chuckling a bit, but the chuckle sounded sad even in his ears.
"Don't be: this sort of thing happens in a war," the young man said, nonchalantly, as if he spoke of the simple loss of his paperwork.
"It shouldn't have had to happen this way," Tsuzuki said, taking his hands from his sleeves. "And I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me."
The young man looked him up and down with calm eyes as blue as the sky, or as blue as the sky would look on an ordinary summer day. "You're a shinigami," he observed, calmly, even in a matter of fact tone. This came as a far cry from the way people had reacted to Tsuzuki all day.
"I'm with the Summons Section of the Ministry of Hades," Tsuzuki replied. "I've come to help you across into the next life."
"Well, I suppose there's nothing left to keep me here," the young man said, with a final glance around them. "I'm Seiichirou Tatsumi," he said, bowing deeply. "I am, or I was, an accountant for a paper plant, but I suppose I don't have a job to go back to, even if I had survived the blast."
"I'm Asato Tsuzuki," he replied, bowing. "Do you have any family here in the city?" he asked, concerned.
"None here in the city, and none who would be mourning me," Tatsumi admitted.
That's too sad, Tsuzuki thought. He really doesn't have anyone left. Out loud, he said, "Let's get you out of here before too long; I don't want you to get stuck here, and there's too many souls who've gone astray because of this war."
"Better to be prompt about your work than to drag your heels," Tatsumi replied. And he said this with a condescending note that got under Tsuzuki's skin and made him think, Don't tell me how to do my job. You've only been dead for less than hour, geez!
"Aha, right," Tsuzuki said, swallowing his irritation and chuckling a bit. He quickly composing himself. "You sure you have nothing to hold you back? No unfinished business?"
"Not a thing, aside from the job that I lost," Tatsumi replied.
"Well then," Tsuzuki said, holding his hand out to the newcomer. "Take my hand."
Tatsumi reached out and took it, allowing Tsuzuki to draw him across the veil, away from the desolation and under the cherry blossoms of Meifu....