Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Dark and Stark ❯ Dark and Stark ( Chapter 1 )

DARK AND STARK

TITLE: Dark and Stark

AUTHOR: ivybluesummers (ivybluesummers@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: Fushigi Yuugi is not mine, enough said.

WARNINGS: A one-shot fic inspired by a novel by Jamie O'Neill "At Swim, Two Boys". Includes metaphor's, and deep angst that can be only understood when read for a few times. Hehe. A bit shounen-ai, I guess. Nothing to worry about. Blink and you'll miss.

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Condemnation. In the lives of the many, people often find themselves on the brink of losing their existence when condemnation prompt the cores of one's inner universe. Such as these may find you looking for something, perhaps anything to cling on to when the world feels like condemnation is a slang word one can hear everyday, every minute. Comrades... the love of and to your comrade... it's an antithesis to see for sure...

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Dandelion breeze through the stark windows of the lavender-haired creature it swept, the confines of the lithe body it had penetrated in the silks that covered it. Somehow, the wind felt cold, not from the touch of absolutely zero temperature but from the coldness of being alone, alone in the forest that seemed very eclectic and far eyed wide. Tears rolled down yet again from the creature's cheeks, and the memory shot back at his mind's eye. The bleak look. The very bleak look.

Now that was weird. The creature cried. Implying it had eyes. Hands crept on its garments. Now why would a creature wear silk? And it can feel.

Holding back, Nuriko decided on his resolve and dipped his feet on the pond beside him beside a very ancient tree where leaves fall, the seemingly ripple it made on the pond. Nuriko wished he were the ripple itself, waving at the distance and disappearing in a skip of the heartbeat, disappearing as if it never existed at all. The ends of his garments wetted as he dipped himself fully onto the pond, smelling of dandelion, again, and it made him quite cold at the touch of the water. Cold. Though in the tusks that bore in the afternoon glow of the sunbeams, it still felt cold. No dews whatsoever. It felt really cold. He wanted to feel cold.

Underwater, Nuriko tried to widen his eyes but found it too difficult to do so, his nose somewhat feeling a little ached to the point where it wants to bleed, but Nuriko didn't mind at all. The velvety coverings he had were all but velvety now. In the stillness of his heart, he heard voices calling him out, almost like a tune in his ears that seemed to impair his hearing. The undulating of the waters under soon seeped into his body. One touch. At the bathe, his angst.

Nuriko opened his eyes and realized the desire of his body to slouch itself on the pond. More than this daydreaming he found himself sobbing his heart out, again, alone. In the depths of the amplified territory of the creatures he finally accepted he was one of them, those creatures that bequeath nothing but bestial adherence to its nature, adapting as if they were none of Suzaku's creation. Oh the last of all resorts, Suzaku in its red glimmering glory, what am I to do?

Nuriko tore another shred of his silk, exposing his collarbone, and wept from the memory that sprang back onto him. One and a half month. And counting. One and a half month now since their priestess was gone, and it made Nuriko in his might the worst possible looking human. Human, eh? What kind of impact it had on Nuriko's head. Human. Was he less of a human at all? He didn't understand.

He didn't understand. Not from Miaka's departing from the fairy tale-like world, as what the coffee-haired lass commented. Still, it was the same question that niggled his brain, almost like haunting mantras in the everyday nightly pavements, swishing, almost on the brink of danger of you try to listen. The same question that haunted him for almost two months. The same question that desperately solicited answers. One and a half month. He didn't understand.

Almost on the verge of being half-naked, which was an exceedingly dreadful thing to be, Nuriko tore instead one of the tailings of his silk garments. That bleak look on the emperor's face when the word of truth escaped from the demon's mouth disguised as their priestess. It seemed to Nuriko that it was all but bleakness, but it shot to him fully that the bleakness was more than to its realization. Bitterness if he might add. Antagonistic pity. Disgust in its uttermost spoken words, the silence it brought on the bleakness it contained. Maybe he understood it all from the very dawn, after all. It wasn't that his mind was closed on that kind of realization. He didn't want to open it.

Slowly, faintly, Nuriko looked up at the sky. Everyday saccharine that tasted like bitter coffee, the sun is in its afterglow of daylight. Horizons call themselves upon, the sight such a relief to him, bringing on the heartbreak and all. Whatever. Glancing on the sides, he then prepared to leave.

Wait.

"Ta... Tama-home?"

A cloak was now pressed against him, the warmth seeping in his clothes. But it still felt cold, he wondered. Nuriko's face tilted to take a glimpse on one of Suzaku's pride. It didn't give him any better. "Is it you, Tamahome?"

No response.

Nuriko's eyes focused on the pond. Another leaf fell and made a small ripple, but the ripple itself bounced on random directions, disappearing faintly as it made marks with the other ripple on the pond. Leaf and stone. What a combination.

The man sat beside him. A pair of coolly resembled eyes stared at Nuriko. Why, it had no color, Nuriko thought. "You... look at you." the man said.

Nuriko was silent.

"I knew I'd find you here. I asked the aides where you went but didn't know."

"You know where you'd find me. Saw me thrice."

Tamahome scratched his head, surprised at how the lavender-haired creature can sense people without even looking. "Sorry..."

Nuriko felt the warmth of the cloak. Finally. "You don't have to be sorry at all.", he whispered, but a smile appeared on the emotionally torn body of his.

"Why wouldn't I be? You've lost everything. You've lost-"

"Tamahome, I think it's not a good idea to remind me that."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

The two looked at the pond, the skies reflecting. Dark. Stark.

"You miss her, Miaka, yes?" Nuriko said, not asked, and he regretted the moment his mouth started to open. What question, eh? The emperor in his utmost look of nothingness reflecting onto him. Again. He tried to shrug it off with his head, Tamahome looking at him quizzically.

"I'm sorry."

Stillness. The forest seemed dark now, but the moonbeams have started swooshing down its pale luminous glory, the scent now smelling of night jasmine, of humus and leaves all together. Nature, Nuriko thought, and the smell were made pungent on his nose.

"What night, ne?" Nuriko tried to smile, wishing for the silence to break.

Tamahome. What look on his eyes Nuriko cannot decipher?

"Miaka's gone and went to her own world. It's painful to know that those that hold special places in your soul can almost disguise themselves as permanent. But I've got to live with it now, somehow."

"You're tough enough to handle that, Tamahome-chan."

"Yeah, I guess so. I don't know."

Another skips of the hearts.

"It's night already. I never thought we stayed that long." Nuriko winced. "Oh, you must be getting cold! Here now, the cloak is too big for me anyway."

"No, I don't mind at all..."

"Don't be silly. You're... Oh!" he saw Tamahome's body shudder, and a pang of guilt shot Nuriko. "You're cold! Here now..."

Tamahome hesitated for a bit. With a look on Nuriko's concerned face, he sat much nearer to the lavender-haired creature. "Thanks..."

"No, I should be the one who's thanking. You needn't have to be here, but you were. Thank you."

The two Suzaku shichiseishi were millimeters with each other now, heat drawing from each other as if heat itself was energy from the cocoons of Suzaku's force. The cloak swathed their bodies, the tips of the thick cloth unwaveringly swaying at the cold rushes of gusts. Dark and stark. Flourishing scents of the dark night, swarming all together. Nuriko can't smell the night jasmine anymore. What was it that jazzes his body awake?

"The moon... Nuriko, your garments are all and torn."

"That's what you get from thinking too much."

Tamahome sighed in amusement. "The moon. It's crescent. Full crescent."

"Such a sight."

Another silence.

"Nuriko," Tamahome finally broke. "I... I won't mean to annoy you, really. It's none of my business to understand the things and all... between everything else."

"Even the emperor," he continued.

Nuriko blinked.

"...but it's not your fault to be this way. It's no one's fault. I don't understand why Hotohori couldn't understand himself what nature molded for the world to see and behold. He's supposed to be scholarly."

This made Nuriko once more remind himself of that memory. Respect, Nuriko.

"No one understands. I'm sure you only do. Damn, I'm just too hard at words..."

"You need not to say it, Tamahome-chan."

"No... it's just that it pains me to see such a wonderful creature begging himself be thrown the mockeries of the world."

Wonderful creature? Was Nuriko a wonderful creature to him?

"I doubt they don't have any idea of that. But I do. I do, really."

Warmth.

Tamahome continued, "Don't be so hard on yourself. You've been like this for like two months. It's bothering me, yes,"

Nuriko chuckled. "Look whose talking." Then another pang of guilt shot right through his body. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, feeling almost dumb at the annunciations of words.

"What night, eh?"

"Tamahome..."

The silence overwhelmed them again. Crestfallen stars it seemed for the both of them, the skies now dancing almost halfheartedly cold, as if the hues of the moon itself were touching them. Crescent moon in its serene wonder, white moonbeams over the sides of the trees, some on the leaves... completely reflected on the pond. Embellished by countless stars the pond spoke of solitude yet company. Loneliness but companionship, almost not friendship at all, but love in its meaning between comrades. Comrades, yes, Nuriko thought. Was Tamahome thinking the same way?

"It's hard. Miaka gone, that is. I can't picture myself in the kind of circumstances I'm in now. No... We. Miaka is gone and Kotou is left undone. But I'm sure it'll all come around."

"I hope so."

"Not hope, Nuriko... certainty."

"Certainly then."

Tamahome looked at the lavender-haired with a plaster of smile on his face. He then looked again in the dark pond, glimmering, touching the confines of earth as nature barge down on nature itself. Pale as it is, pulse as it is quickening as an arm rested on Nuriko's waist. Seemingly like a signal, Nuriko rested his head on the taller boy's shoulder. There at the dark lush they slackened, enjoying the silence and the closeness, the understanding of once in a lifetime feelings like these do exist, even if creature themselves cloak in its utter disguise. Dark and stark. Company and closeness, inching themselves closer... nearer... Nuriko is sure now of that smell. Musk, unreserved masculinity in Tamahome's body. The bleakness of the emperor's eyes was nothing now but remnants diminishing by the second. Now that's a distraction he can live with.

"Ne, Tamahome..." Nuriko whispered, eyes closed, feeling the arm on his waist tightening but gently. He snuggled his head closer at the taller boy's shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"What night, eh?"

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