Ghost of a City Past [Aoki, Kakyou, Fuuma, Yuzuriha, Subaru ; PG]
Title: Ghost of a City Past
Author: doumeki
Fandom: X
Rating: PG
Genre: Introspective
Characters: Aoki, Kakyou, Fuuma, Yuzuriha, Subaru
Wordcount: 1,280
Disclaimer: Not mine. CLAMP owns all. If I did, Subaru would have a happily ever after.
Author's Notes: Written for x2009. I wanted to write a fic from a very different perspective, so I wrote it from the view of the city, with my head!canon survivors interspersed.
It takes a year before anyone but those involved returns. The flesh from the bodies left in the ruins of a once great city has melted back into the earth, leaving only bones for survivors to bury. It is a meaningless ceremony for a person they neither know nor care about, and yet they pick up the pieces of a broken puzzle and try to make it right.
It is quiet and shadows play along the ground, casting their darkness on a realm of light unobstructed by skyscrapers and towers. They linger on the corpses of buildings, drawing the attention of people as they carefully make their way through the debris, carelessly stepping on the flowers and grass that tenuously make their way from the ground.
It has begun again.
---
Seiichirou stands among the small group, removing the remains of the dead from the debris whilst being careful not to destroy the buds that grow around him. He hears people around him calling out to others, but ignores them in favor of pulling a worn bear out from under a cascade of stone.
He looks at the bear and smiles sadly, thinking of hair the color of fire and the tempestuous attitude of a stubborn woman seeking forgiveness for a sin she did not commit.
---
The first building is finished in the beginning of the second year and stands solemnly on the edge of the horizon, not quite blocking the sun as it rises in the morning. There are half-started buildings dotting old streets that are cracked and unstable, liable to break apart beneath the feet of those traveling on the road with the lightest shaking of the Earth.
People flock to the battleground - some to witness the ruins of God’s destruction, others to see a city forsaken by the greed in which it thrived. They come and bear witness to the testimonial of an end that nearly claimed them all, and they build as if in defiance of the forces that would have them wiped from the face of a world they believe they are entitled to.
---
The war of fate may be over, but Kakyou still Sees. The bodies that litter the alleys in the less populous areas, the stains of blood that cannot be lifted from the very air that surrounds Tokyo - he Sees it all with clarity that would startle him were it not expected.
The people who congregate on the streets do not know that Fate is a cycle that repeats, that the two boys who stood atop the Tower such a short time before did not stop the wheel. It still turns, and the futility of rebuilding a city destined to disappear is as ironic as the tragic deaths of those who had come fallen mere years ago.
Nothing is spared, and the efforts of those who fell defending those who have returned were wasted.
---
Five years pass, and the buildings stand tall, proud, blotting out the horizon. People have made this place their home again, and the events of the past are forgotten. The city that was no more has been reborn, and the mistakes that brought the earth to a standstill are wisps of memory only few recall.
---
He sits on the roof of the tallest building and stares into the murky blue of the sky. He can recall a clear blue, a blue the color of indigo, dotted with lights that burned brighter than the fluorescent bulbs that lit the city around him. He knows that one can only remember the past and learn from the mistakes made, but as he stares at a sky muggy with smog and smoke, he can’t help but think that the people dotting the streets below have learned nothing.
Fuuma closes his eyes and lets the wind blow around him, biting at the skin of his exposed arms, and hopes that the people milling below him are not proud enough to ignore the missteps that may lead to their demise.
---
Construction of Tokyo Tower begins seven years after its fall. The skeletal remains of the Tower are torn to the ground and ripped apart, leaving a pale square of concrete where the strongest kekkai in Japan once stood.
The people gathered around its base know nothing of the struggle fought upon its peak, nor do they know of the tears and blood that stain the ground beneath it. They are ignorant of the old magic that was broken when the frame was destroyed, leaving the newly rebuilt city in shambles only those who See could understand.
They care for nothing other than its completion.
---
She is there when what remains of Tokyo Tower is pulled from the ground. She feels the shattering of the kekkai Kamui-san died protecting, and tears sting the corners of Yuzuriha’s eyes. The fragile existence of Tokyo that remained due to their combined efforts laid to waste by the hands of the very people Kamui-san, Arashi-san, Sorata-san, and Karen-san fell to save.
Inuki nudges her hand and whines quietly in sympathy. She takes a deep breath and turns away. She can see the final battle in her mind, can see the moment Kamui-san realizes his true Wish. She remembers Sumeragi-san standing behind Fuuma-san, eyes blank.
She remembers wondering what the point of this was when neither side would ever truly win.
She thinks about Kusanagi-san’s smile and Karen-san’s determination.
Fourteen people with the fate of the world in their hands, and she thinks about how no one truly knows anything. How everything they went through to make sure the people she that crowd around her can live means nothing.
These people don’t care about the tears that Sumeragi-san cried on a bridge destroyed seven years ago, or how Arashi-san felt when she left Sorata-san’s side for good.
They don’t care that the very darkness Kamui-san and Fuuma-san fought under still hangs over their heads, waiting for the time that it will swallow them whole.
---
Tokyo Tower once again stands tall, proudly gleaming among the concrete and glass world that surrounds it. A decade has passed since its fall, and people flock to it in droves, bypassing the small memorial that stands isolated in front of it.
---
He returns to the Tower and looks up. He cannot see the tip in the glare of the sunlight which stings his eyes through the sunglasses he wears.
The memorial is a simple stone plaque engraved with meaningless words strung together by well-meaning officials who could never fully grasp the horror faced by those people who lost their lives here.
He kneels before the plaque, head bowed in silent prayer, and he prays for the safety of the nameless men and women who were killed in a battle they had known nothing about but had inevitably caused. He prays for the ones who saved this world and for those who had sought to seek justice against the crimes committed against it.
He prays for those who left regrets behind and for those who regretted nothing.
He prays for friends and families, enemies and lovers alike. For those who were forgotten and for those who will never forget.
He prays for the souls of those whose lives were irreparably damaged by a meaningless war that solved nothing yet began everything.
He stands and lights a cigarette - a habit he has grown out of with the death of his Wish and the acceptance of another’s - and takes a drag, blowing the smoke out slowly.
The smoke curls into the air, mixing into the breeze and carried off into the heart of a city that died ten years ago.
Author: doumeki
Fandom: X
Rating: PG
Genre: Introspective
Characters: Aoki, Kakyou, Fuuma, Yuzuriha, Subaru
Wordcount: 1,280
Disclaimer: Not mine. CLAMP owns all. If I did, Subaru would have a happily ever after.
Author's Notes: Written for x2009. I wanted to write a fic from a very different perspective, so I wrote it from the view of the city, with my head!canon survivors interspersed.
It takes a year before anyone but those involved returns. The flesh from the bodies left in the ruins of a once great city has melted back into the earth, leaving only bones for survivors to bury. It is a meaningless ceremony for a person they neither know nor care about, and yet they pick up the pieces of a broken puzzle and try to make it right.
It is quiet and shadows play along the ground, casting their darkness on a realm of light unobstructed by skyscrapers and towers. They linger on the corpses of buildings, drawing the attention of people as they carefully make their way through the debris, carelessly stepping on the flowers and grass that tenuously make their way from the ground.
It has begun again.
---
Seiichirou stands among the small group, removing the remains of the dead from the debris whilst being careful not to destroy the buds that grow around him. He hears people around him calling out to others, but ignores them in favor of pulling a worn bear out from under a cascade of stone.
He looks at the bear and smiles sadly, thinking of hair the color of fire and the tempestuous attitude of a stubborn woman seeking forgiveness for a sin she did not commit.
---
The first building is finished in the beginning of the second year and stands solemnly on the edge of the horizon, not quite blocking the sun as it rises in the morning. There are half-started buildings dotting old streets that are cracked and unstable, liable to break apart beneath the feet of those traveling on the road with the lightest shaking of the Earth.
People flock to the battleground - some to witness the ruins of God’s destruction, others to see a city forsaken by the greed in which it thrived. They come and bear witness to the testimonial of an end that nearly claimed them all, and they build as if in defiance of the forces that would have them wiped from the face of a world they believe they are entitled to.
---
The war of fate may be over, but Kakyou still Sees. The bodies that litter the alleys in the less populous areas, the stains of blood that cannot be lifted from the very air that surrounds Tokyo - he Sees it all with clarity that would startle him were it not expected.
The people who congregate on the streets do not know that Fate is a cycle that repeats, that the two boys who stood atop the Tower such a short time before did not stop the wheel. It still turns, and the futility of rebuilding a city destined to disappear is as ironic as the tragic deaths of those who had come fallen mere years ago.
Nothing is spared, and the efforts of those who fell defending those who have returned were wasted.
---
Five years pass, and the buildings stand tall, proud, blotting out the horizon. People have made this place their home again, and the events of the past are forgotten. The city that was no more has been reborn, and the mistakes that brought the earth to a standstill are wisps of memory only few recall.
---
He sits on the roof of the tallest building and stares into the murky blue of the sky. He can recall a clear blue, a blue the color of indigo, dotted with lights that burned brighter than the fluorescent bulbs that lit the city around him. He knows that one can only remember the past and learn from the mistakes made, but as he stares at a sky muggy with smog and smoke, he can’t help but think that the people dotting the streets below have learned nothing.
Fuuma closes his eyes and lets the wind blow around him, biting at the skin of his exposed arms, and hopes that the people milling below him are not proud enough to ignore the missteps that may lead to their demise.
---
Construction of Tokyo Tower begins seven years after its fall. The skeletal remains of the Tower are torn to the ground and ripped apart, leaving a pale square of concrete where the strongest kekkai in Japan once stood.
The people gathered around its base know nothing of the struggle fought upon its peak, nor do they know of the tears and blood that stain the ground beneath it. They are ignorant of the old magic that was broken when the frame was destroyed, leaving the newly rebuilt city in shambles only those who See could understand.
They care for nothing other than its completion.
---
She is there when what remains of Tokyo Tower is pulled from the ground. She feels the shattering of the kekkai Kamui-san died protecting, and tears sting the corners of Yuzuriha’s eyes. The fragile existence of Tokyo that remained due to their combined efforts laid to waste by the hands of the very people Kamui-san, Arashi-san, Sorata-san, and Karen-san fell to save.
Inuki nudges her hand and whines quietly in sympathy. She takes a deep breath and turns away. She can see the final battle in her mind, can see the moment Kamui-san realizes his true Wish. She remembers Sumeragi-san standing behind Fuuma-san, eyes blank.
She remembers wondering what the point of this was when neither side would ever truly win.
She thinks about Kusanagi-san’s smile and Karen-san’s determination.
Fourteen people with the fate of the world in their hands, and she thinks about how no one truly knows anything. How everything they went through to make sure the people she that crowd around her can live means nothing.
These people don’t care about the tears that Sumeragi-san cried on a bridge destroyed seven years ago, or how Arashi-san felt when she left Sorata-san’s side for good.
They don’t care that the very darkness Kamui-san and Fuuma-san fought under still hangs over their heads, waiting for the time that it will swallow them whole.
---
Tokyo Tower once again stands tall, proudly gleaming among the concrete and glass world that surrounds it. A decade has passed since its fall, and people flock to it in droves, bypassing the small memorial that stands isolated in front of it.
---
He returns to the Tower and looks up. He cannot see the tip in the glare of the sunlight which stings his eyes through the sunglasses he wears.
The memorial is a simple stone plaque engraved with meaningless words strung together by well-meaning officials who could never fully grasp the horror faced by those people who lost their lives here.
He kneels before the plaque, head bowed in silent prayer, and he prays for the safety of the nameless men and women who were killed in a battle they had known nothing about but had inevitably caused. He prays for the ones who saved this world and for those who had sought to seek justice against the crimes committed against it.
He prays for those who left regrets behind and for those who regretted nothing.
He prays for friends and families, enemies and lovers alike. For those who were forgotten and for those who will never forget.
He prays for the souls of those whose lives were irreparably damaged by a meaningless war that solved nothing yet began everything.
He stands and lights a cigarette - a habit he has grown out of with the death of his Wish and the acceptance of another’s - and takes a drag, blowing the smoke out slowly.
The smoke curls into the air, mixing into the breeze and carried off into the heart of a city that died ten years ago.