Fiction (Update)
As promised, the next chapter. I guess this one is a bit transitional, and does not yet feature any surprising relevations or explanations. However, if you look for the clues - they are there. ^__^ Furthermore, I hope the formatting and the links work as supposed, seeing as my connection is being a little shaky again.
Title: What Should Have Never Been Found
Part: 20/26 (?)
Genre: Suspense
Wordcount: ~3000
Warnings: Violence, character death.
Characters: Tezuka, Fuji, and some others.
Summary: Due to circumstances, Tezuka is forced to make an after school trip to a house belonging to friends of his grandfather. Fuji accompanies him and encounters something unexpected.
Disclaimer: PoT is not mine (which is probably for the better)
Prior Parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 |
Twenty
The body in his arms was warm, light and very, very still. Tezuka’s fingers clutched those small shoulders in abject horror, Fuji’s head rested against his chest. He could feel blood pooling on the floor beneath him, soaking into the fabric of his trousers and colouring his formerly white shirt a bright red.
An unreadable expression played on the demon’s face as she watched Tezuka hold his friend’s body; his eyes wide with disbelief. Comprehension had not yet set in; and Tezuka’s mind had frozen.
It had happened too fast.
His fingers were grasping Fuji’s shoulders so tightly, it had to be painful. Yet no protest came from Fuji’s lips, no small noise to indicate the discomfort -
Never again.
He wasn’t going to hear Fuji’s voice ever again. No more soft-spoken words of advice, no more fierce declarations, no more of the light humming under his breath. Those lips would not move anymore.
Tezuka couldn’t even begin to imagine what the implications meant.
That Fuji was dead, would never stand at his side on a tennis court again, racket tucked under one arm, smile softly up at him and comment on their team mates antics. If he was to close his eyes, Tezuka could recall how Fuji’s hair seemed to glimmer in the sunlight, how bright the world around them had been and how warm the sun on his skin.
It felt like light years away in the dim light of this oriental style, door-less building. The demon was watching them without much of an expression; maybe a little amused of the unrestrained display of shock on Tezuka’s face.
The body in his arms was warm, still, and the pool of blood he knelt in continued to grow. However as Fuji rested against his chest, he could far too clearly tell that his friend’s chest wasn’t moving. No heartbeat, no breathing.
He couldn’t even begin to believe it.
How on earth could that have happened? Hadn’t he - just moments, or was it days, years; time had lost all its meaning anyway - promised himself to do whatever it took to keep Fuji out of harm’s way? Hadn’t it been enough to see his friend fall into a frozen pond once?
When had he stopped keeping his promises? Where had he failed?
His arms unconsciously tightened around Fuji’s still body, drawing him closer against his chest - his nose caught of faint whiff of whatever shampoo Fuji had used to wash his hair among the overwhelming stench of copper.
Darkness danced invitingly at the corners of his vision, beckoning to him. Something in his soul trembled in resonance - how easy would it be, just to close his eyes, to let consciousness slip away, to escape this madness.
Maybe forever.
Like Fuji, who’d never wake again.
His heart shuddered. Never was such a long time - his brain couldn’t really grasp the concept; it kept slipping around the corners, as if a part of him couldn’t accept the stark reality in front of his eyes.
An impatient sight drew his gaze upward.
He hadn’t even noticed her approach. Now, the woman who had so carelessly killed Fuji loomed over him, one corner of her mouth twisted upward - he couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a smile; her unfamiliar features completely unreadable to him.
“It’s your friend’s own fault,” she said, with a shrug, “He ought to have had a good idea of what would happen to him when he decided to follow us.”
Protest burned in Tezuka’s stomach, yet his lips wouldn’t move.
Apparently, she read his glare. “Oh, he knew, believe me. After all, your friend wasn’t all that unfamiliar with beings like me, was he? He probably didn’t tell you much of it - your society is amusingly terrified of accepting anything that might not suit your sweet explanation schemes - but he knew, Tezuka-kun.”
Tezuka remembered the determination he had seen in Fuji’s eyes. The lack of fear his friend had displayed in this last encounter.
Had Fuji…?
“It’s a pity you’re only starting to realize things now,” she continued, “There’s something about you that would have well been suited to… ah, I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
In the back of Tezuka’s mind, something perked up at the far-away sound to her words, but he couldn’t find a deeper meaning to it. Ice had begun to settle in his veins, making every movement twice as strenuous as it ought to be. A shudder ran through his body.
Though this cold had nothing to do with the temperatures inside the dimly lit room.
“But now let’s finish our business. More than enough time has been wasted already.” A faint smile played on her lips, as she tilted her face upwards. For the first time Tezuka grew aware of intricately shaped skylights in the richly ornamented ceiling.
The sky beyond was a bright, careless blue.
“Come,” she said, “Nothing more can be done for your friend, but you might yet go home.”
Tezuka wanted to scream at her. To plant his feet, stubbornly, like a small child. Cling to Fuji’s body; refuse to move from his spot, yet…
What good would that do?
It wasn’t as if he could still do anything for Fuji. It wasn’t as if he’d get another chance at protecting his friend. He had already failed the one time it truly counted.
Automatism took him over. While Tezuka mulled over his failure, and what remained of his future, his hands mechanically, yet gently lowered Fuji’s body to the floor. His heart ached as he watched the brown hair fan out on the floor; turning darker as it came into contact with drying blood.
The front of Fuji’s white school shirt had turned bright red. There was a hole in the fabric where the sword - or whatever it had been - had pierced through flesh and skin; while the wound itself was ironically small. Even the reminder of the cut the demon had made on Tezuka’s arm appeared larger.
He swallowed, and glanced away from the injury. Fuji’s face was pale, yet peaceful. Eyes closed, and not a smile in sight, but completely relaxed - a kind of expression Tezuka would have enjoyed seeing at another time.
Right now however, he couldn’t suppress a shudder.
‘I’m sorry’ he wanted to say. Bow, apologize, over and over again, just so he could hear Fuji’s voice once more. He hadn’t meant to let this happen; he hadn’t meant for Fuji to get hurt in an affair that originally hadn’t even concerned him.
But now things had processed far beyond a mere injury.
And Tezuka found he couldn’t bear looking at Fuji’s face anymore.
“You should let go,” unbidden, the demon’s voice cut through Tezuka’s thoughts, “Right now you might think things can’t get worse, but do believe me, they can. You are still alive after all, aren’t you, boy?”
Something cold crawled down Tezuka’s back and from the corner of his eye he caught a dark smile stretching across her face. “You don’t really want to go the same way Hasegawa-kun went, do you? He also refused to cooperate with me in the beginning - and really, he actually had even a bit more of a chance than you have right now.”
A small voice in Tezuka’s head petulantly urged him to disagree. To stand up against her, no matter how much pain resistance would bring. No matter, if he would be sacrificing his life. After all, right now he couldn’t even imagine living out the rest of his life. How should he ever grow to be sixty or seventy with Fuji’s death on his conscience? Wouldn’t a swift death be the better choice?
The demon on the other hand snorted; having watched emotions chase each other across Tezuka’s unusually expressive face.
“I don’t really care either way,” she said, shaking her hair over one shoulder, “But what do you think your late friend would say about your decision?”
As if summoned, the memory arose, tearing painfully at Tezuka’s heart. Fuji’s eyes had been clear, bright and determined. Had he really known what fate awaited him here, as she had said? Had he…
He’d made Tezuka promise to run at the first possibility.
And then…
Something in Tezuka’s recollection didn’t quite make sense. There’d been an odd sense of accomplishment in Fuji’s voice when he’d whispered those last words; a certainty that Tezuka would eventually receive the chance to flee.
But the situation he found himself in was even bleaker than before. So what was it that had changed Fuji’s perception?
Before he could puzzle it out, Tezuka found his body was moving by itself. Having carefully set Fuji’s body down on the marble floor, he rose to his feet and turned to face the demon. She wasn’t, he realized, not much taller than himself in this shape, but the rich dress and her aura made her appear twice as large.
“It is good that you are still able to see reason,” she commented, and gestured at Tezuka to follow her to a shady corner of the large, circular room, “It’s a pity your friend chose not to. His death was unnecessary - but then again, human emotions have become difficult to understand.”
Tezuka flinched at her careless mentioning of Fuji’s actions. Whatever Fuji had done, he was certain his friend had had a plan. Recklessness didn’t suit Fuji, no matter how desperate a situation grew. Yet his lips stayed frozen together.
“But who knows, once this ceremony is complete, I might just understand what your friend was thinking,” she continued, as her steps carried her to the centre of a circle outlined in green marble on the ground.
There was a small pedestal in the centre, and an old, heavy book rested on top of it. Tezuka instinctively stretched his neck, but the scripture on the pages remained illegible, a scrawl of characters he did not recognize.
“You need to step on the other side of the book, Tezuka-kun,” she said, “Other than that, there isn’t anything you need to do. Once the ceremony has begun, things will arrange themselves. As I mentioned before, I have no need for your life as it is, so you might be able to walk from here without feeling any different. All I have need for is a part of your humanity, after all.”
Her words barely even registered with Tezuka. He thoughts kept straying to Fuji’s still body, hidden somewhere in the dim light behind him. What if his friend wasn’t dead? What if he was conscious, what if his heart restarted?
The scriptures covering the walls were written in the same flowing, elegant writing as the old book the demon was leafing through. Or maybe she was no demon - Tezuka couldn’t tell anymore, and he wasn’t certain it mattered. Golden letters glittered ominously, and a shudder ran down his spine.
There was something in the air, an unfamiliar undercurrent that had every hair on his body standing. A soft breeze caressed his cheeks, tickled his nose and teased his senses. Was he imagining things? Were those ornaments glowing in the sunlight, or was it something else that enhanced their brightness?
When he turned his head, she had begun to mumble, fingers tracing the lines in the book. Tezuka felt numb - if this was to take his own life, he wouldn’t mind.
Though hadn’t he promised Fuji he would escape? Or at least die trying?
Dust rose into his nose, and a sharp wind picked up abruptly. Something began to shift in his chest - a hollow sensation, not painful, but nauseating. He couldn’t see the far end of the room anymore; the demon, too, appeared an eternity away.
Her hair seemed to float in the air, glowing darkly. Power began to fill the entire chamber, thick and suffocating. Tezuka could barely think straight, as a myriad of strange emotions invaded his mind. The rush of his own blood filled his ears - he saw her lips move, but heard no words.
What was she chanting, what was that mysterious language, what were the words, what would they do? Had Fuji known what would happen? After all, Fuji had paid very little attention to his surroundings; a certainty to his actions that had left Tezuka stunned.
The air whirled around him, tearing at his clothes and buzzing with energy. Every nerve in his body tingled in response; like electricity running through him, though this felt entirely different. Overwhelming, all-encompassing, suffocating yet liberating at the same time.
Grief, shock and horror were wiped from his blood stream. His eyes widened, as the world around him abruptly grew clearer. Details he hadn’t noticed before came to his attention - a second felt like a minute; and all common, unnoticed constraints of time, air pressure and those all too familiar limits of the human body vanished.
The tips of his fingers were numb, yet tickled with an odd energy. He felt more alive than ever before, but strangely disconnected from everything. As if the ground underneath his feet wasn’t the real, as if the scenery in front of his eyes could disappear in the blink of an eye.
As if he could make the scenery change with just a flick of his wrist.
He barely noticed she had stopped reading from her book. The demon’s eyes were wide, as the wind died down, and strangely filled with emotions. Tezuka could read disbelief, shock and surprise on her face.
It didn’t faze him in the least - and perhaps that was the most alarming development of all.
Only minutes ago he’d been filled with despair, fear and pure horror. Now only a foreign sense of detachment remained. His utter helplessness had vanished. Instead he felt well adjusted to deal with the situation.
Maybe he was losing it.
Maybe it had all been too much, and now his brain had begun to shut down.
But she looked at him strangely, her dark eyes full of an unspoken suspicion. Then her head turned, and Tezuka caught her glancing in the direction of Fuji’s body.
“It can’t …” she uttered, pressing her lips together.
Silence hung heavily in the air, as the dust around them settled once again. Tezuka felt strange, as if unused to his body. Something had changed deep within him, though he couldn’t tell what exactly it was.
The demon’s eyes narrowed abruptly and she turned to Tezuka. “So the brat did have a good idea in the end. It’s a pity the reversal of a transfer process is only valid once.”
Alarm bells rang in Tezuka’s head. He recalled Fuji urging him to flee, and unconsciously took a step backwards. His mind was racing.
“Oh, do stay here, Tezuka-kun. Just where do plan to go, anyway?”
There were no doors to the chamber, still, and the overhead lights far too high up and small for him to even reach. But weren’t her words implying that the process she had intended to make had been reversed? And this process had involved transferring his humanity, or something?
So did that mean he had been turned into a demon?
He felt dizzy, yet powerful, his blood alive with an unfamiliar sensation. With barely a conscious thought he lifted his hand, flicked his wrist in the direction of a wall -
And it crumbled into a cloud of dust and debris, letting sunlight and fresh air flow into the room, together with a smell of plants and life, and all Tezuka could think about was the promise he had given Fuji.
If this was what Fuji had died for, he couldn’t let things end here any longer.
His feet had begun to move before he had even processed the thought. The demon - was she still? - screeched in protest behind him, but he encountered no resistance. However formidable her power might have been previously, now it was barely even a tingle against his senses.
With light, fast steps he manoeuvred through the debris, paying no heed to the former demon yelling at him not to run, even as the ground underneath trembled from his power. This might be the world she had created, but the power was his now.
By some twist of fate that Fuji had elegantly orchestrated without even telling him, the demon’s power had become Tezuka’s to use.
Though it did not suffice to do the one thing he wished for most.
No power in existence would suffice to revive Fuji.
And if he did not want to reduce Fuji’s work to nothing, he had to get away. Regardless of whatever awaited him once he got home.
Before he knew it, he had started running. To both sides, blossoming bushes rushed past, the marble under his feet glowing brightly in the sun. An odd sense of freedom filled his heart; another emotion he wasn’t familiar with.
The power was messing with his feelings, Tezuka noted, but the realization left him unconcerned. Already the horror in face of Fuji’s death was fading, being replaced by dulled anger and grim determination - and he wasn’t certain, if this was the path his emotions would have taken under usual circumstances.
Would he turn into a creature like the demon had been? Had Fuji anticipated this as well?
The last flight of stairs loomed in front of him, and Tezuka raced them up, reaching once again the tiled hilltop. Around him, the landscape stretched endlessly, sandy in the distance, dotted with lush green pine trees, while the turquoise water of the pool reflected the endless blue of the sky overhead.
Fuji had told him just to jump in and think of home.
The foreign power in his body confirmed Fuji’s words - he didn’t doubt things would pass as predicted. Yet a part of his soul was wondering if leaving was the right decision now. The demon did not pose a danger any longer, not to him of all people.
But there wasn’t anything he could do for Fuji anymore.
Going home was the only thing left to do.
Go home, tell Yumiko what had happened - his heart shuddered painfully - give an explanation to his parents.
And then…
Tezuka swallowed. Glanced up to the bright sky above - really, it felt as if the weather was mocking him - and took the step forward.
tbc
Please feel free to share your thoughts and impressions with me. :-) The next chapter should be up after October 10th (unless I get myself utterly lost somewhere on that train trip to Yunnan.
Title: What Should Have Never Been Found
Part: 20/26 (?)
Genre: Suspense
Wordcount: ~3000
Warnings: Violence, character death.
Characters: Tezuka, Fuji, and some others.
Summary: Due to circumstances, Tezuka is forced to make an after school trip to a house belonging to friends of his grandfather. Fuji accompanies him and encounters something unexpected.
Disclaimer: PoT is not mine (which is probably for the better)
Prior Parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 |
Twenty
The body in his arms was warm, light and very, very still. Tezuka’s fingers clutched those small shoulders in abject horror, Fuji’s head rested against his chest. He could feel blood pooling on the floor beneath him, soaking into the fabric of his trousers and colouring his formerly white shirt a bright red.
An unreadable expression played on the demon’s face as she watched Tezuka hold his friend’s body; his eyes wide with disbelief. Comprehension had not yet set in; and Tezuka’s mind had frozen.
It had happened too fast.
His fingers were grasping Fuji’s shoulders so tightly, it had to be painful. Yet no protest came from Fuji’s lips, no small noise to indicate the discomfort -
Never again.
He wasn’t going to hear Fuji’s voice ever again. No more soft-spoken words of advice, no more fierce declarations, no more of the light humming under his breath. Those lips would not move anymore.
Tezuka couldn’t even begin to imagine what the implications meant.
That Fuji was dead, would never stand at his side on a tennis court again, racket tucked under one arm, smile softly up at him and comment on their team mates antics. If he was to close his eyes, Tezuka could recall how Fuji’s hair seemed to glimmer in the sunlight, how bright the world around them had been and how warm the sun on his skin.
It felt like light years away in the dim light of this oriental style, door-less building. The demon was watching them without much of an expression; maybe a little amused of the unrestrained display of shock on Tezuka’s face.
The body in his arms was warm, still, and the pool of blood he knelt in continued to grow. However as Fuji rested against his chest, he could far too clearly tell that his friend’s chest wasn’t moving. No heartbeat, no breathing.
He couldn’t even begin to believe it.
How on earth could that have happened? Hadn’t he - just moments, or was it days, years; time had lost all its meaning anyway - promised himself to do whatever it took to keep Fuji out of harm’s way? Hadn’t it been enough to see his friend fall into a frozen pond once?
When had he stopped keeping his promises? Where had he failed?
His arms unconsciously tightened around Fuji’s still body, drawing him closer against his chest - his nose caught of faint whiff of whatever shampoo Fuji had used to wash his hair among the overwhelming stench of copper.
Darkness danced invitingly at the corners of his vision, beckoning to him. Something in his soul trembled in resonance - how easy would it be, just to close his eyes, to let consciousness slip away, to escape this madness.
Maybe forever.
Like Fuji, who’d never wake again.
His heart shuddered. Never was such a long time - his brain couldn’t really grasp the concept; it kept slipping around the corners, as if a part of him couldn’t accept the stark reality in front of his eyes.
An impatient sight drew his gaze upward.
He hadn’t even noticed her approach. Now, the woman who had so carelessly killed Fuji loomed over him, one corner of her mouth twisted upward - he couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a smile; her unfamiliar features completely unreadable to him.
“It’s your friend’s own fault,” she said, with a shrug, “He ought to have had a good idea of what would happen to him when he decided to follow us.”
Protest burned in Tezuka’s stomach, yet his lips wouldn’t move.
Apparently, she read his glare. “Oh, he knew, believe me. After all, your friend wasn’t all that unfamiliar with beings like me, was he? He probably didn’t tell you much of it - your society is amusingly terrified of accepting anything that might not suit your sweet explanation schemes - but he knew, Tezuka-kun.”
Tezuka remembered the determination he had seen in Fuji’s eyes. The lack of fear his friend had displayed in this last encounter.
Had Fuji…?
“It’s a pity you’re only starting to realize things now,” she continued, “There’s something about you that would have well been suited to… ah, I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
In the back of Tezuka’s mind, something perked up at the far-away sound to her words, but he couldn’t find a deeper meaning to it. Ice had begun to settle in his veins, making every movement twice as strenuous as it ought to be. A shudder ran through his body.
Though this cold had nothing to do with the temperatures inside the dimly lit room.
“But now let’s finish our business. More than enough time has been wasted already.” A faint smile played on her lips, as she tilted her face upwards. For the first time Tezuka grew aware of intricately shaped skylights in the richly ornamented ceiling.
The sky beyond was a bright, careless blue.
“Come,” she said, “Nothing more can be done for your friend, but you might yet go home.”
Tezuka wanted to scream at her. To plant his feet, stubbornly, like a small child. Cling to Fuji’s body; refuse to move from his spot, yet…
What good would that do?
It wasn’t as if he could still do anything for Fuji. It wasn’t as if he’d get another chance at protecting his friend. He had already failed the one time it truly counted.
Automatism took him over. While Tezuka mulled over his failure, and what remained of his future, his hands mechanically, yet gently lowered Fuji’s body to the floor. His heart ached as he watched the brown hair fan out on the floor; turning darker as it came into contact with drying blood.
The front of Fuji’s white school shirt had turned bright red. There was a hole in the fabric where the sword - or whatever it had been - had pierced through flesh and skin; while the wound itself was ironically small. Even the reminder of the cut the demon had made on Tezuka’s arm appeared larger.
He swallowed, and glanced away from the injury. Fuji’s face was pale, yet peaceful. Eyes closed, and not a smile in sight, but completely relaxed - a kind of expression Tezuka would have enjoyed seeing at another time.
Right now however, he couldn’t suppress a shudder.
‘I’m sorry’ he wanted to say. Bow, apologize, over and over again, just so he could hear Fuji’s voice once more. He hadn’t meant to let this happen; he hadn’t meant for Fuji to get hurt in an affair that originally hadn’t even concerned him.
But now things had processed far beyond a mere injury.
And Tezuka found he couldn’t bear looking at Fuji’s face anymore.
“You should let go,” unbidden, the demon’s voice cut through Tezuka’s thoughts, “Right now you might think things can’t get worse, but do believe me, they can. You are still alive after all, aren’t you, boy?”
Something cold crawled down Tezuka’s back and from the corner of his eye he caught a dark smile stretching across her face. “You don’t really want to go the same way Hasegawa-kun went, do you? He also refused to cooperate with me in the beginning - and really, he actually had even a bit more of a chance than you have right now.”
A small voice in Tezuka’s head petulantly urged him to disagree. To stand up against her, no matter how much pain resistance would bring. No matter, if he would be sacrificing his life. After all, right now he couldn’t even imagine living out the rest of his life. How should he ever grow to be sixty or seventy with Fuji’s death on his conscience? Wouldn’t a swift death be the better choice?
The demon on the other hand snorted; having watched emotions chase each other across Tezuka’s unusually expressive face.
“I don’t really care either way,” she said, shaking her hair over one shoulder, “But what do you think your late friend would say about your decision?”
As if summoned, the memory arose, tearing painfully at Tezuka’s heart. Fuji’s eyes had been clear, bright and determined. Had he really known what fate awaited him here, as she had said? Had he…
He’d made Tezuka promise to run at the first possibility.
And then…
Something in Tezuka’s recollection didn’t quite make sense. There’d been an odd sense of accomplishment in Fuji’s voice when he’d whispered those last words; a certainty that Tezuka would eventually receive the chance to flee.
But the situation he found himself in was even bleaker than before. So what was it that had changed Fuji’s perception?
Before he could puzzle it out, Tezuka found his body was moving by itself. Having carefully set Fuji’s body down on the marble floor, he rose to his feet and turned to face the demon. She wasn’t, he realized, not much taller than himself in this shape, but the rich dress and her aura made her appear twice as large.
“It is good that you are still able to see reason,” she commented, and gestured at Tezuka to follow her to a shady corner of the large, circular room, “It’s a pity your friend chose not to. His death was unnecessary - but then again, human emotions have become difficult to understand.”
Tezuka flinched at her careless mentioning of Fuji’s actions. Whatever Fuji had done, he was certain his friend had had a plan. Recklessness didn’t suit Fuji, no matter how desperate a situation grew. Yet his lips stayed frozen together.
“But who knows, once this ceremony is complete, I might just understand what your friend was thinking,” she continued, as her steps carried her to the centre of a circle outlined in green marble on the ground.
There was a small pedestal in the centre, and an old, heavy book rested on top of it. Tezuka instinctively stretched his neck, but the scripture on the pages remained illegible, a scrawl of characters he did not recognize.
“You need to step on the other side of the book, Tezuka-kun,” she said, “Other than that, there isn’t anything you need to do. Once the ceremony has begun, things will arrange themselves. As I mentioned before, I have no need for your life as it is, so you might be able to walk from here without feeling any different. All I have need for is a part of your humanity, after all.”
Her words barely even registered with Tezuka. He thoughts kept straying to Fuji’s still body, hidden somewhere in the dim light behind him. What if his friend wasn’t dead? What if he was conscious, what if his heart restarted?
The scriptures covering the walls were written in the same flowing, elegant writing as the old book the demon was leafing through. Or maybe she was no demon - Tezuka couldn’t tell anymore, and he wasn’t certain it mattered. Golden letters glittered ominously, and a shudder ran down his spine.
There was something in the air, an unfamiliar undercurrent that had every hair on his body standing. A soft breeze caressed his cheeks, tickled his nose and teased his senses. Was he imagining things? Were those ornaments glowing in the sunlight, or was it something else that enhanced their brightness?
When he turned his head, she had begun to mumble, fingers tracing the lines in the book. Tezuka felt numb - if this was to take his own life, he wouldn’t mind.
Though hadn’t he promised Fuji he would escape? Or at least die trying?
Dust rose into his nose, and a sharp wind picked up abruptly. Something began to shift in his chest - a hollow sensation, not painful, but nauseating. He couldn’t see the far end of the room anymore; the demon, too, appeared an eternity away.
Her hair seemed to float in the air, glowing darkly. Power began to fill the entire chamber, thick and suffocating. Tezuka could barely think straight, as a myriad of strange emotions invaded his mind. The rush of his own blood filled his ears - he saw her lips move, but heard no words.
What was she chanting, what was that mysterious language, what were the words, what would they do? Had Fuji known what would happen? After all, Fuji had paid very little attention to his surroundings; a certainty to his actions that had left Tezuka stunned.
The air whirled around him, tearing at his clothes and buzzing with energy. Every nerve in his body tingled in response; like electricity running through him, though this felt entirely different. Overwhelming, all-encompassing, suffocating yet liberating at the same time.
Grief, shock and horror were wiped from his blood stream. His eyes widened, as the world around him abruptly grew clearer. Details he hadn’t noticed before came to his attention - a second felt like a minute; and all common, unnoticed constraints of time, air pressure and those all too familiar limits of the human body vanished.
The tips of his fingers were numb, yet tickled with an odd energy. He felt more alive than ever before, but strangely disconnected from everything. As if the ground underneath his feet wasn’t the real, as if the scenery in front of his eyes could disappear in the blink of an eye.
As if he could make the scenery change with just a flick of his wrist.
He barely noticed she had stopped reading from her book. The demon’s eyes were wide, as the wind died down, and strangely filled with emotions. Tezuka could read disbelief, shock and surprise on her face.
It didn’t faze him in the least - and perhaps that was the most alarming development of all.
Only minutes ago he’d been filled with despair, fear and pure horror. Now only a foreign sense of detachment remained. His utter helplessness had vanished. Instead he felt well adjusted to deal with the situation.
Maybe he was losing it.
Maybe it had all been too much, and now his brain had begun to shut down.
But she looked at him strangely, her dark eyes full of an unspoken suspicion. Then her head turned, and Tezuka caught her glancing in the direction of Fuji’s body.
“It can’t …” she uttered, pressing her lips together.
Silence hung heavily in the air, as the dust around them settled once again. Tezuka felt strange, as if unused to his body. Something had changed deep within him, though he couldn’t tell what exactly it was.
The demon’s eyes narrowed abruptly and she turned to Tezuka. “So the brat did have a good idea in the end. It’s a pity the reversal of a transfer process is only valid once.”
Alarm bells rang in Tezuka’s head. He recalled Fuji urging him to flee, and unconsciously took a step backwards. His mind was racing.
“Oh, do stay here, Tezuka-kun. Just where do plan to go, anyway?”
There were no doors to the chamber, still, and the overhead lights far too high up and small for him to even reach. But weren’t her words implying that the process she had intended to make had been reversed? And this process had involved transferring his humanity, or something?
So did that mean he had been turned into a demon?
He felt dizzy, yet powerful, his blood alive with an unfamiliar sensation. With barely a conscious thought he lifted his hand, flicked his wrist in the direction of a wall -
And it crumbled into a cloud of dust and debris, letting sunlight and fresh air flow into the room, together with a smell of plants and life, and all Tezuka could think about was the promise he had given Fuji.
If this was what Fuji had died for, he couldn’t let things end here any longer.
His feet had begun to move before he had even processed the thought. The demon - was she still? - screeched in protest behind him, but he encountered no resistance. However formidable her power might have been previously, now it was barely even a tingle against his senses.
With light, fast steps he manoeuvred through the debris, paying no heed to the former demon yelling at him not to run, even as the ground underneath trembled from his power. This might be the world she had created, but the power was his now.
By some twist of fate that Fuji had elegantly orchestrated without even telling him, the demon’s power had become Tezuka’s to use.
Though it did not suffice to do the one thing he wished for most.
No power in existence would suffice to revive Fuji.
And if he did not want to reduce Fuji’s work to nothing, he had to get away. Regardless of whatever awaited him once he got home.
Before he knew it, he had started running. To both sides, blossoming bushes rushed past, the marble under his feet glowing brightly in the sun. An odd sense of freedom filled his heart; another emotion he wasn’t familiar with.
The power was messing with his feelings, Tezuka noted, but the realization left him unconcerned. Already the horror in face of Fuji’s death was fading, being replaced by dulled anger and grim determination - and he wasn’t certain, if this was the path his emotions would have taken under usual circumstances.
Would he turn into a creature like the demon had been? Had Fuji anticipated this as well?
The last flight of stairs loomed in front of him, and Tezuka raced them up, reaching once again the tiled hilltop. Around him, the landscape stretched endlessly, sandy in the distance, dotted with lush green pine trees, while the turquoise water of the pool reflected the endless blue of the sky overhead.
Fuji had told him just to jump in and think of home.
The foreign power in his body confirmed Fuji’s words - he didn’t doubt things would pass as predicted. Yet a part of his soul was wondering if leaving was the right decision now. The demon did not pose a danger any longer, not to him of all people.
But there wasn’t anything he could do for Fuji anymore.
Going home was the only thing left to do.
Go home, tell Yumiko what had happened - his heart shuddered painfully - give an explanation to his parents.
And then…
Tezuka swallowed. Glanced up to the bright sky above - really, it felt as if the weather was mocking him - and took the step forward.
tbc
Please feel free to share your thoughts and impressions with me. :-) The next chapter should be up after October 10th (unless I get myself utterly lost somewhere on that train trip to Yunnan.