Angel Sanctuary Fan Fiction ❯ Kichigai no Harvest Moon ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It's on my wish list :P

 

AN: I came up with this story in the midst of a clothing crisis. Really. I guess it was some kind of stress relief or something... I need new winter clothes; nothing fits right anymore... Eh, so, anyway. Please do try to forgive me if I get any details wrong, especially regarding the time line; I have all the mangas that have been released in English so far, but that's about it. Normally I try to avoid spoilers, or at least I don't go out purposely looking for them, since Yu-gi-oh was pretty much ruined for me that way... Eh heh. Thank go to Leynarue; all your wonderful AS fics are to blame for this one :) I'd also like to give a great big huge sister-y shout-out to The Mad Teaparty... good luck up there! (smile) And a shout-out to my lil' imoto, too, so she doesn't feel left out ;) Other than that, enjoy the fic.

 

 

x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x ...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x

Kichigai no Harvest Moon

 

 

 

The humans look up at us, so high above them, and believe we are as pure as the stars. They are wrong.

 

I myself have made so many mistakes...

 

I was once comfortable in the belief that I would carry on existing in a state of child-like naivety forever. I was as wrong in believing this as I was in believing that Rosiel would remain by my side as the perfect father figure forever...

 

Rosiel-sama has a beautiful voice. You may say what you like of blasphemy and damnation; I am already damned, now, so I will freely admit that I would rather hear Rosiel sing than hear God Himself. Unfortunately, he stopped singing long ago.

 

If I had to pin-point any one incident as when he stopped, I would have to pick a time that frankly I'd rather not relive, but I suppose...

 

(The cherub sighs to himself)

 

I suppose that it's really fairly obvious that I was born to be by his side. From the moment I was `born', I was consumed with the desire to be near him again. At first it was a simple need to thank him, but I soon realized that a man who not only noticed a mere Grigor but also actually bothered to give it a corporeal form had to be a great man indeed. I wanted to be his student, or his servant... I guess I didn't really know what I wanted, even then; anything that would allow me to bask in his radiance would be enough.

 

For a long time afterwards, this unwavering adoration was enough to convince me that his reaction to the loss of his sister, coupled with her simultaneous violent rejection of him, was perfectly normal - that his scars were of the kind that healed with time. But his incessant, obsessive, random talking of her only seemed to grow worse with time. When I first met him I did not even know he had a sister, but as I grew older and we grew closer, he began to confine things in me. I became the one who he knew he could talk to, the one who knew his secrets, the one who stayed with him, whispering pointless words of comfort, when the nightmares overtook his fevered mind...

 

Isn't it strange how many people don't actually mean it when they say they would like to take another person's pain for their own? Because, if you can follow me, the kind of person who would actually be willing to give their pain to another is rarely the kind of person that anyone would feel sympathy for... That is what my mind keeps trying to tell me, anyway...

 

But I digress. I was trying to explain that, over time, he gradually began to loose his mind. He wanted her so strongly that it balanced perfectly the strength with which he wanted her dead. I remained in denial as long as I could, but eventually an incident occurred that shoved the facts irrefutably into the light.

 

To this day, I don't know who she was or what she did. All I know was that he had been in a bad mood to begin with, that day; it must not have been entirely her fault. At least, I believe it was a woman. The remaining scraps of gore-covered cloth looked like what the maids wore, but it was hard to tell.

 

One thing I still remember with perfect clarity is the look on his face, after I turned the corner and just before I whirled back around it in horror. Was it fear? Or perhaps... a sort of regret? I think - or hope, maybe - that for just a moment, he was sorry that I had to see such a thing...

 

“Stop!”

 

I stood, trembling, with my hand pressed over my mouth in shock and perhaps to hold in a scream, and took two deep breaths before I could turn to face him. I found I still could not actually look at him, however; my eyes locked on the pitiful heap of bloody wires on the floor and I could not tear them away. I wish I could say I was confused, but no; I was still fairly young, but not so much so that I did not know perfectly well what had happened. I had seen the signs, even if I'd refused to properly look at them. I closed my eyes to block the blood out, and to keep the tears in.

 

Rosiel has a beautiful voice, even when dropped to absolute zero tones.

 

“Is there a problem, Katan?”

 

“No, Rosiel-sama...”

 

In the end, he barely had a scrap of sanity left. But you must understand that I'm not doing this for that Rosiel. I am doing this for the Rosiel who could sing more beautifully than God Himself...

 

I think I may be a little mad myself.

 

(The cherub gives a small, sad smile as the wind, already swift through the tops of the buildings, begins to pick up further)

 

But he really did sing beautifully, once, you know...

 

I heard him sing for the first time shortly after I came to live with him, as something of an in-house secretary. I woke in the middle of the night to the sound of it, and for several minutes I lay in bed wondering whether my dreams had seeped into reality, because I did not believe that any real sound could be so beautiful. Even though I was hearing it at a distance, I could still make out a deep despair in every note. The very air seemed to be to grow heavier with it, and maybe it really did. When I realized that I definitely wasn't dreaming any more, I scrambled out of my bed and followed the sound to my balcony as if I was hypnotized. There was a garden below, and in it I beheld Rosiel, shining more in the moonlight than from his own usual brightness; even his own angelic glow seemed to dim with the sadness of the song.

 

I do not believe there were any words to it, unless he was singing in a language I didn't understand. Really it seemed as if the song was just sounds - not sounds that were the words for feelings, but the actual sounds those feelings would make if we could hear them, if that makes any sense at all. To put it another way, it was almost as if the usual barrier of word between the singer and the listener had been removed, and I was directly feeling his own loneliness, his own bitterness... I thought I could hear instruments, too, but then I realized that it was really all him - his voice seemed to suggest the accompanying music somewhere in the listener's subconscious, perhaps because no real instruments could even be worthy enough to provide it. The very elements seemed moved by it; the wind had completely died out, and the light seemed to be developing a dull, coppery sheen even as I watched... I didn't even notice the tears streaming down my face, until he abruptly stopped.

 

He looked up at me, and smiled that radiant smile. “Why, Katan - you're crying! Are you hurt? Come down and let me take a look at you...”

 

I glided down in a flurry of feathers to fall, sobbing uncontrollably, into his arms. Back then he could still actually hold me; I was only a little over half his height. His smile took on a knowing cast.

 

“Was it my song? I'm sorry. I'll sing something more pleasant for you.”

 

It was only when he sung unburdened by grief that it occurred to me for the first time that he sang more beautifully than God could ever hope to...

 

x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x ...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x

 

My Lord...

 

Forgive me...

 

These hands have already been sullied with blood and will not be cleansed...

 

I have no choice but to follow...

 

To follow Lord Rosiel.

 

x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x ...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x...x

 

AN: O.O Hmm... So, after I finished this, I was like, `Oh. My. GOD. I just DIDN'T write a yaoi!' -.-;; Normally I think of it as basically a fact that these two are together, sorry if that offends anyone, so I guess I was expecting to work some romance in there at some point... but somehow, it just didn't come out that way. Wow. It's really more of a platonic, father-son thing... Also, does anyone get that last bit? (sweatdrop) Just see book one, 'round page 69, the whole story would probably make more sense that way... Oh yes, and please REVIEW!!