The Telling of One Billion Ghost Stories (draft) - Part 15
This is one of those parts I've had planned for so long that I've got some mixed feelings about finally getting to post it including vague fears fandom is about to lynch my for what I did to the characters. >.> But for anyone who might have thought this world was a little nice on the surface for post-apocalypse? Well, this would be some of that darker side.
Other parts: The original ficlets, Plot notes, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14
It had been true what Watanuki had told Doumeki those long months before about Kurogane’s camp not being the only people he’d ever known and liked in his last few years of being shuffled from the possession of one gang to the next. Even in the worst gangs, there’d always been the rare individual with the decency to realise that even the April Fool was a fragile human being and take pity on him - but that that was as far as it went. The simple kindness such people showed him remained distant and impersonal; fear of the gang leaders kept them too scared to get any closer to him. Since the days when the implication of Watanuki’s gift first became clear to people, there had only been one person who had ever considered herself close to him, and that had been an affair so heartbreaking it had left Watanuki terrified to ever risk letting anyone get close to him again.
Her name was Himawari - sunflower - a long forgotten plant Watanuki had never seen, and he may very well have fallen in love with her the very first time he ever saw her. Himawari was the gentlest creature he had ever met - a slim girl, pretty and sweet. However, the world in which she was born had only limited uses for a girl who was pretty and sweet, and even Watanuki could not bring himself to feel much more than dull surprise or horror when he learned that the men who kept her put her to nearly all of those uses.
For herself though, Himawari never once complained about her lot. She had the most beautiful smile Watanuki had ever seen - and around the same time he had been learning to lead hungry gangs through the ruins of ancient cities, she must have been learning to keep on smiling like that, no matter what ever happened to her, for she never let that smile slip when it mattered, even for a moment. She really was lucky, she would tell Watanuki sometimes. She’d been born without the strength to support herself; there would never have been many fates for her to choose from, but here, it wasn’t so bad. There were gangs out there who would have treated her much, much worse than this - so many places she would never have survived at all. Everyone here had to work hard for their living, but she was never given any of the running or the shooting or the most back breaking of tasks to do - delicate and pretty was how they wanted her to stay. She was so very lucky that this gang had taken her in and cared for her, and she repeated that mantra until even she believed.
But there was no-one she smiled for wider than she did for Watanuki. She was the one who would come to him after the worst beatings, with soft hands and a damp cloth to hold over the bruises, to offer what comfort she could. Whenever she was able she would slip out to be with him, in whatever dark corner he’d been left, and the two of them would talk - just for the luxury of hearing one another’s low voices, long into the night about the most inconsequential things imaginable. Himawari thought it was wonderful what he could do - he had such an incredible talent like nothing she’d ever be capable of - she was so honoured just to have been able to meet him at all. Watanuki never dared to tell her about any of the worst of the ghosts he saw - the tormented ones that would scream and cry, or the malicious ones that would laugh at him as they lead him astray. She carried such a burden already that he could never bear the thought of placing that on her shoulders - and for her own part, Himawari never spoke in more than the vaguest terms about what was done to her. Inconsequential things were all that passed between them when they talked late into the night, and for a while, those moments were what Watanuki lived for more than anything else he had.
It was only a matter of time, however, before it came to the attention of the gang leaders just how close the two were becoming, and they did not approve. It was then they found a new way to punish Watanuki for his mistakes. Pretty girls might have their worth, but they were not nearly so rare or valuable as the likes of the April Fool, so there was no need for them to be nearly so gentle with her as with him. They avoided disfiguring her outright, but there was nothing in her job that required her to be able to stand or lead them around the countryside. There was little need to hold back against Himawari - and the effects on Watanuki spoke for themselves.
And still, even when they were worst to her, Himawari never once blamed him for a single blow she took. Really, she told him, she knew none of the mistakes they punished him for were truly his fault. She was so much less important than he, and if she could spare him some pain by taking these beatings in his stead, she was only too happy to be able to do so.
Watanuki nearly went mad in those days out of shear desperation.
He hated that gang more than anyone else he had ever encountered, hated himself for bringing such suffering on the person he loved most, hated the world for ever allowing them to meet, sometimes even hated Himawari herself. Yet, those late night moments when they could still be together remained the moments he lived for - like some terrible drug he could never give up even though it only brought him more pain.
In a sense, the gang’s strategy worked - Watanuki took them on more treasure hunts than ever before, but the rewards they’d expected did not come in. In fact, fewer and fewer of the trips returned them anything of value at all. It wasn’t until long after that Watauki realised just how foolish he’d been then - he’d allowed himself to listen to so many obviously dangerous spirits, kinds that he’d have wisely closed his ears to any other time. But he’d been too desperate to think straight - willing to take any chance to distract their attention away from Himawari for even a little while. And all that could do was make everything so much worse.
In the end, there wasn’t even anything in particular that triggered it - no recent, terrible failures on Watanuki’s part, or no worse than usual. It seemed simply that she took just one beating too many, and by the time they left her at last - half-blinded and breathing only shallowly in Watanuki’s arms - they both felt what was coming, how little she had left, and no number of well-intentioned lies could allow either to pretend otherwise. Himawari spent her last moments apologising for leaving him, for being able to do so little, and begging him so hard not to blame herself when she was gone.
It was worth everything, just to have known him, she said. And then it was over.
Watanuki probably should have felt his heart break when she finally began to grow cold in his arms, but the truth was that it might have broken months before. He no longer had even the capacity for any more anguish left to mourn her as she should have been mourned.
He didn’t know whether the sight of her ghost would have helped him, or simply broken him all over again, but she never once appeared before him in all the time that passed since that day. Before long, he came to accept that wherever she had gone, it was far beyond anywhere he’d ever see her again.
When, only a few months after her death, another gang caught wind of the name of the April Fool and launched an ambush which left barely a soul of Watanuki’s gang alive, that was the one time Watanuki had not mourned for any of the fallen, nor felt the slightest whisper of guilt about the part he had played in their demise.
***
Of course, Himawari’s ghost would still find other ways to haunt him. It was only natural that Watanuki’s heart would go out to any girl in any gang after that who shared her plight - even the shyest ones who’d had all the fight beaten out of them and no light left in their eyes - the ones who resembled her the least. There was no such explanation for his fixation on Doumeki though. He was nothing like Himawari at all. Watanuki had heard the old saying about opposites attracting, but for one person to be attracted to opposites? That was ridiculous! It was hard to imagine that Doumeki had ever even meant to get close to Watanuki - it was more a case where he’d just appeared one day well inside Watanuki’s personal space and acted all surprised when he was informed that Watanuki had been there first.
Or maybe it was the actually difference that attracted him. Maybe it made sense that after being forced to watch Himawari so helpless to defend herself that he’d be drawn to someone as stoic and undefeatable as Doumeki - who could take out three men without missing a shot, drag a wounded companion all the way home and then complain that said companion had had the nerve to take a bullet for him and save both their lives in the process. What did he think he was, bullet proof? For that matter, why had both Doumeki and Himawari been so convinced that he - Watanuki - needed protecting so much more than either of them ever would?
Maybe, whispered a traitorous voice in his head, it’s because you do.
Stupid head voices.
Stupid, stupid Doumeki.
Other parts: The original ficlets, Plot notes, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14
It had been true what Watanuki had told Doumeki those long months before about Kurogane’s camp not being the only people he’d ever known and liked in his last few years of being shuffled from the possession of one gang to the next. Even in the worst gangs, there’d always been the rare individual with the decency to realise that even the April Fool was a fragile human being and take pity on him - but that that was as far as it went. The simple kindness such people showed him remained distant and impersonal; fear of the gang leaders kept them too scared to get any closer to him. Since the days when the implication of Watanuki’s gift first became clear to people, there had only been one person who had ever considered herself close to him, and that had been an affair so heartbreaking it had left Watanuki terrified to ever risk letting anyone get close to him again.
Her name was Himawari - sunflower - a long forgotten plant Watanuki had never seen, and he may very well have fallen in love with her the very first time he ever saw her. Himawari was the gentlest creature he had ever met - a slim girl, pretty and sweet. However, the world in which she was born had only limited uses for a girl who was pretty and sweet, and even Watanuki could not bring himself to feel much more than dull surprise or horror when he learned that the men who kept her put her to nearly all of those uses.
For herself though, Himawari never once complained about her lot. She had the most beautiful smile Watanuki had ever seen - and around the same time he had been learning to lead hungry gangs through the ruins of ancient cities, she must have been learning to keep on smiling like that, no matter what ever happened to her, for she never let that smile slip when it mattered, even for a moment. She really was lucky, she would tell Watanuki sometimes. She’d been born without the strength to support herself; there would never have been many fates for her to choose from, but here, it wasn’t so bad. There were gangs out there who would have treated her much, much worse than this - so many places she would never have survived at all. Everyone here had to work hard for their living, but she was never given any of the running or the shooting or the most back breaking of tasks to do - delicate and pretty was how they wanted her to stay. She was so very lucky that this gang had taken her in and cared for her, and she repeated that mantra until even she believed.
But there was no-one she smiled for wider than she did for Watanuki. She was the one who would come to him after the worst beatings, with soft hands and a damp cloth to hold over the bruises, to offer what comfort she could. Whenever she was able she would slip out to be with him, in whatever dark corner he’d been left, and the two of them would talk - just for the luxury of hearing one another’s low voices, long into the night about the most inconsequential things imaginable. Himawari thought it was wonderful what he could do - he had such an incredible talent like nothing she’d ever be capable of - she was so honoured just to have been able to meet him at all. Watanuki never dared to tell her about any of the worst of the ghosts he saw - the tormented ones that would scream and cry, or the malicious ones that would laugh at him as they lead him astray. She carried such a burden already that he could never bear the thought of placing that on her shoulders - and for her own part, Himawari never spoke in more than the vaguest terms about what was done to her. Inconsequential things were all that passed between them when they talked late into the night, and for a while, those moments were what Watanuki lived for more than anything else he had.
It was only a matter of time, however, before it came to the attention of the gang leaders just how close the two were becoming, and they did not approve. It was then they found a new way to punish Watanuki for his mistakes. Pretty girls might have their worth, but they were not nearly so rare or valuable as the likes of the April Fool, so there was no need for them to be nearly so gentle with her as with him. They avoided disfiguring her outright, but there was nothing in her job that required her to be able to stand or lead them around the countryside. There was little need to hold back against Himawari - and the effects on Watanuki spoke for themselves.
And still, even when they were worst to her, Himawari never once blamed him for a single blow she took. Really, she told him, she knew none of the mistakes they punished him for were truly his fault. She was so much less important than he, and if she could spare him some pain by taking these beatings in his stead, she was only too happy to be able to do so.
Watanuki nearly went mad in those days out of shear desperation.
He hated that gang more than anyone else he had ever encountered, hated himself for bringing such suffering on the person he loved most, hated the world for ever allowing them to meet, sometimes even hated Himawari herself. Yet, those late night moments when they could still be together remained the moments he lived for - like some terrible drug he could never give up even though it only brought him more pain.
In a sense, the gang’s strategy worked - Watanuki took them on more treasure hunts than ever before, but the rewards they’d expected did not come in. In fact, fewer and fewer of the trips returned them anything of value at all. It wasn’t until long after that Watauki realised just how foolish he’d been then - he’d allowed himself to listen to so many obviously dangerous spirits, kinds that he’d have wisely closed his ears to any other time. But he’d been too desperate to think straight - willing to take any chance to distract their attention away from Himawari for even a little while. And all that could do was make everything so much worse.
In the end, there wasn’t even anything in particular that triggered it - no recent, terrible failures on Watanuki’s part, or no worse than usual. It seemed simply that she took just one beating too many, and by the time they left her at last - half-blinded and breathing only shallowly in Watanuki’s arms - they both felt what was coming, how little she had left, and no number of well-intentioned lies could allow either to pretend otherwise. Himawari spent her last moments apologising for leaving him, for being able to do so little, and begging him so hard not to blame herself when she was gone.
It was worth everything, just to have known him, she said. And then it was over.
Watanuki probably should have felt his heart break when she finally began to grow cold in his arms, but the truth was that it might have broken months before. He no longer had even the capacity for any more anguish left to mourn her as she should have been mourned.
He didn’t know whether the sight of her ghost would have helped him, or simply broken him all over again, but she never once appeared before him in all the time that passed since that day. Before long, he came to accept that wherever she had gone, it was far beyond anywhere he’d ever see her again.
When, only a few months after her death, another gang caught wind of the name of the April Fool and launched an ambush which left barely a soul of Watanuki’s gang alive, that was the one time Watanuki had not mourned for any of the fallen, nor felt the slightest whisper of guilt about the part he had played in their demise.
***
Of course, Himawari’s ghost would still find other ways to haunt him. It was only natural that Watanuki’s heart would go out to any girl in any gang after that who shared her plight - even the shyest ones who’d had all the fight beaten out of them and no light left in their eyes - the ones who resembled her the least. There was no such explanation for his fixation on Doumeki though. He was nothing like Himawari at all. Watanuki had heard the old saying about opposites attracting, but for one person to be attracted to opposites? That was ridiculous! It was hard to imagine that Doumeki had ever even meant to get close to Watanuki - it was more a case where he’d just appeared one day well inside Watanuki’s personal space and acted all surprised when he was informed that Watanuki had been there first.
Or maybe it was the actually difference that attracted him. Maybe it made sense that after being forced to watch Himawari so helpless to defend herself that he’d be drawn to someone as stoic and undefeatable as Doumeki - who could take out three men without missing a shot, drag a wounded companion all the way home and then complain that said companion had had the nerve to take a bullet for him and save both their lives in the process. What did he think he was, bullet proof? For that matter, why had both Doumeki and Himawari been so convinced that he - Watanuki - needed protecting so much more than either of them ever would?
Maybe, whispered a traitorous voice in his head, it’s because you do.
Stupid head voices.
Stupid, stupid Doumeki.