Juvenile Orion Fan Fiction ❯ Dawn ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Dawn

 

Neechi

 

(( Juvenile Orion ))

 

Disclaimer: Not mine! The books say they belong to BROCCOLI and Marekatsu Nakai and Sakurako Gokurakuin… but that's only the artist… <_< Yes.

 

Warnings: Shonen-ai; yaoi; m/m slash; f/f slash (Shoujo-ai; Yuri).

 

Author's note: I love the name Kaoru, and that girl just doesn't hold up to my standards. I don't have anything against any of the characters… except for Mana. No offense, but she's really too goody-goody for me. But I won't waste my time bashing her, because she's an important character and I do so try to keep it that way in this fanfiction, too. I won't use a lot of Japanese words; they don't flow with the story. People who can work them in; I congratulate you. And I'm sorry for my laziness. But I really hate scrolling down to the end of the page to know what people are talking about.

 

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Summary: Destiny. Fate. Heaven. Hell. With the shadows of time whispering in their ears and the hope of heaven kissing their hearts, they'll find everything they've been looking for. And maybe… maybe something more. (Juvenile Orion)

 

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“You know, if you keep doing that, you'll wear yourself down.”

 

“I have to get this done. I have to finish this, it's important.”

 

“… You won't be able to, if you don't get some rest.” A kind smile, “Why don't you get some rest, little brother.” He looked up at her; her arms were folded behind her back and the dawn light filtering through the windows made her seem more fragile than she was.

 

But then he remembered that she wasn't really there.

 

Naoya woke up startled, the morning light was harsh against his eyes, and he winced and rubbed the pain away.

 

“Bad dream?” someone asked, and he looked towards the voice. The old woman sat in a pile of pillows- all ridiculously gaudy and bold and highlighted with gold thread and sequins. “I know what it's like to have those. Come, boy, sit and I'll show you something worth your while.”

 

“Okay,” he replied, and soon he was sitting next to her on her pile of showy cushions, staring in wonder at the beaded headdress in her old, wrinkled raisin-hands.

 

“This,” she stated with pride, “is new.”

 

Well, that's wonderful. How is this worth my while?

 

“It's beautiful,” Naoya smiled politely, remembering that these people were helping him and he had to get out of paying them back. “Did you make it?”

 

“Yes,” she said with the same pride, “An' it's like a rainbow. I'll show you.” She turned and opened a hole in the wall, and more light spilled through at another angle. She was right. It was iridescent with color, flitting from color to color and shimmering on the ground and the ceiling and their clothes like a sun catcher.

 

Naoya's mouth opened in wonder, and he stared, rather stupefied, at the object as he let himself be forgotten for a moment.

 

A grand moment in which someone had to ever so rudely ruin.

 

“If you don't put that away, Grandmother,” came a smirking voice, “He'll drool all over it.” His eyes snapped up to the person who had spoken- and it turned out to be a girl with raven black hair and gentle brown eyes.

 

“I trust him, this one,” the old woman put an arm around his shoulders, tugging him closer with her surprisingly strong grip, “Now, why don't you go an' start breakfast,” the girl left, and the old woman handed him the headdress, “We'll be arriving at the next village in a few days, boy. Why don't you stay out of our way and think of some way to repay our hospitality?” Her eyes glinted, and he had the sneaking suspicion that she expected gold as some sort of payment.

 

Like he had that.

 

 

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There were days that she wished she hadn't been born. Not very many, mind you, but sometimes, quite rarely, she would look around her world and wonder what the point of it was. Mana Kirihara didn't know what she was working towards, she didn't know many things, having lived in such a closed area, and her mother hadn't spoken much about it.

 

And so the village grieved when the beautiful woman followed her husband in a long-awaited trip into the “afterlife”, but none so dreadfully as Mana.

 

So she wore her mask, smiling and forcing her eyes to sparkle. If you looked close enough, though, you could see the falseness behind that shimmer, behind the glorious smile and happily flushed cheeks. Mana learned very quickly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do something she had no recollection of doing before.

 

The village was concerned.

 

Soon, though, the village was busy setting up and putting together the sets and booths and tables and spare rooms (if needed) for their guests. Builders were busy building while the cooks and bakers were busy in the kitchens, preparing the food. Children were sent out with daisies to collect nothings and decorations for the tabletops. They forgot death.

 

Because sometimes it's easier to forget.

 

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Several days later, the caravan arrived. The gypsies poured out of the wagons and within very little time it seemed as if they had been living in the village for all their lives. But then again, being nomadic tends to make one comfortable with such things. Kaname had done as he usually did when forced to live in villages for however long the troupe was staying- he slunk off to be by himself.

 

“Naoya,” the old woman (what was her name?) squawked, “Naoya! Get over here!”

 

Sighing, Naoya set the pots he had been carrying on the ground and trotted over to her. She was sitting on a wooden stool with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “Yes?” he asked, trying to be on his best behavior. They were, technically, still “caring” for him.

 

“Sit down, boyo,” he eyed her before crouching on the dirt in front of her. She held out her hand, and he stared at the headdress.

 

Lavender, rose, moss green, deep violet, royal blue, white, garnet…

 

Suddenly he was staring at colors upon colors upon colors, unable to tear his gaze. His mind was caught in them, and there was nothing to know except color, color, color.

 

“Take it,” the words didn't seem to come from anywhere, he just knew them. Slowly, in his daze, he watched his hand reach out and touch them.

 

And then he was staring at them while they were in his hand, and he didn't know what to do. They were so beautiful, they belonged on someone beautiful.

 

“Ah! Rom Daj!” a girl's voice laughed, and Naoya looked up, pulled out of his reverie. “Rom Daj, I'm so glad you're here!” The girl gave the older (larger) woman a hug, and for the first time Naoya watched `Rom Daj' smile, delighted. [(1)]

 

“Well, well, little Mana, is it? My, you've grown,” the patted the girls arms, “Mana, I'd like you to meet Naoya,” she tossed her head towards him, “Naoya, this is Mana, she's a-”

 

Strong.

 

“-wonderful girl here. Why don't you two go play, hm?”

 

Mana took his hand in hers, and all he saw was white.

 

 

 

“What happened?” Kaname asked as he leaned against the doorway entrance, looking as nonchalant as he felt.

 

“I don't know,” the girl sobbed as she wrung her hands in her skirt, “I don't know, I don't know! One minute I was holding his hand and the next…” She shuddered and inhaled the tears, doing her best to “stay strong”.

 

Right. Great. Some little sniveling girl is sobbing over what she isn't even sure happened and he's stuck with her. But…

 

Kaname stood and slowly walked over to her, hesitant. Why do I want to…? She didn't notice him, too busy staring at the sleeping face. He stopped right behind her, staring down at the nape of her neck. She's delicate.

 

And then he was slowly encircling her with his arms as he crouched down lower to her level, leaning his head against her shoulder.

 

“He'll be fine, stop worrying.”

 

She sniffled and turned her head to look at him, but all she could see was midnight-colored hair.

 

 

 

 

End Chapter Two

 

[1] Rom Daj : “Rom” means “man” and “Daj” means “mother”. I didn't really think there was a “proper title” for her so I made one. I was going for something along the lines of `The mother of men' or something. That sound really crappy. …Anyway, she's basically the head of the clan, and usually that's associated with men yadda, yadda, yadda.