Samurai Deeper Kyo Fan Fiction ❯ Wicked Ground ❯ Preparations ( Chapter 9 )

Her stomach was churning painfully and bile was rising in her throat.

Yuya threw her covers off, nearly falling off of the bed in her haste to get to the bathroom. She tripped through the stone hallway, her sweaty feet slipping multiple times. She finally made it to the bathroom, barely able to flick on the light before hurling herself at the porcelain toilet in the corner. She felt the first wave of nausea hit right before vomit bubbled up her throat.

She felt as if she had been sitting there for hours, puking up her stomach in a way she hadn’t done since she was sixteen with the flu. Her head was ringing with the violence of her sickness, her skin cold and clammy. “Oh gods,” she moaned, resting her slick forehead against the cool porcelain.

“What’s wrong?”

The voice was harsh, cold and biting and came from behind her. Yuya didn’t have to turn and raise her eyes to know that it was Kyo. After all, who else but him could muster such suave hatred in his voice while speaking to a weak, sick person? She bit back a sharp comment and simply sat still, trying to play opossum. Lay still enough and the big bad monster will go away.

Instead of going away, the big bad monster came closer, kneeling down beside her. “Hey,” he said, shaking her shoulder. “You dead?”

At the jarring shake, Yuya felt another wave of vomit boil up her throat. She lunged over the rim of the toilet, gagging. Nothing came out, but she continued to dry heave; which, in Yuya’s opinion, was worse than actually throwing up. When she finished, she limply slid down the length of the toilet, fevered forehead resting on the cold stones of the floor. She would have been content to lie there and fall asleep like that, but Kyo would not have it.

His hands, so warm compared to her clammy skin, lifted her off of the floor and cradled her to his chest. “Why, Yuya? Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I don’t mean to,” she mumbled her defense, sounding like a child. “I don’t know… I eat and I feel like throwing up. It’s been that way for the past year…”

Kyo stood, still holding Yuya in his arms. Yuya snuggled close to him, too tired to do anything like object. She wasn’t sure if she had passed out or simply fallen asleep. But either way, her eyes drooped closed as Kyo carried her, child-like, back into her room. He laid her down on her bed, covering her with the white downy comforter. Her hair fell in caramel torrents around her flawless face.

Kyo suppressed the urge to kiss her. Instead he stood, with some reluctance, and left the room. She needed her sleep. The next few days would be hard on her.

…

The next days dragged by slowly, mostly with Yuya sitting at her desk by the window, a law book out in front of her, surrounded by legal pads and pens. Her headphones were constantly on, listening to something by Kitaro, as she worked. She scribbled little notes, muttering under her breath, eyes unfocused most of the time.

The only good thing that came about because of this was that she was beginning to eat. Kyo would put some food in front of her, usually subs that Kyo called out for, or sometimes pasta when the catering joint wasn’t too busy. She’d reach out, nibbling on the food, too entranced with her work to even realize she was eating. With every bite, Kyo felt a small sense of pride over take him. He’d won this particular battle. Now he had to get Yuya to loosen up.

Sunday night, Yuya left her place by the window earlier than usual. Kyo was sitting on the couch, reading a book he’d found lying around. Hagakure, it was called, and was basically a complement of an ancient samurai’s sayings. It wasn’t the most interesting thing in the world, but it kept boredom at bay. He glanced up over the top of the black book, watching as Yuya yawned and stretched.

Her pale green camisole rose up, showing her lean stomach and belly button, which was pierced. Kyo hadn’t noticed before, and the realization startled him. Yuya was young; just barely in her twenties. Young enough to wear camisoles and short shorts, have her belly button pierced, wear her hair in cute styles… She was a perfect specimen of what all young women wanted to look like, but she hardly acted the role of a 23-year-old. She acted mature, older, more refined. She had grown up too fast…

Yuya looked over at him, blue-green eyes weary. “Why are you still up?” she asked, voice soft.

“It’s only nine,” he replied, smirking. She was usually working until the wee hours of the morning, so of course she would think he was asleep. “I ordered some fettuccini alfredo from the pasta place if you’re hungry. It should be here any minute.”

Yuya opened her mouth, about to decline, when she realized something odd. She was hungry. Her stomach was churning and gurgling, as if begging for food. “Yeah… that sounds good.”

There was a ringing, uncomfortable silence. Yuya knew she had to ask Kyo, now or never, about the Ivy person in Sakuya’s fax. She also knew that tomorrow she would have to take him to the jailhouse to stay over night. Kyo was blessedly unaware of both of these things, but he wouldn’t be for long. Yuya had to tell him.

Taking a deep breath, she began, “Kyo, I need to know… who is-”

The doorbell rang and Yuya jumped, startled. It seemed that the damned doorbell and phone were allied against her. Every time something was about to happen, every time she got the nerve to talk to him, the doorbell rang, or the phone rang, or...

Yuya pulled the door open, paying the man the thirty hundred yen for the food. It was a rip off for the small portions, but Yuya was too preoccupied to bother arguing the price. She brought the food into the house, shutting her door and taking it to the table. Kyo was already sitting there, chopsticks on the table. Yuya put his portion in front of him, sitting down with hers.

“What?” he asked, taking the lid from his food.

Yuya glanced up at him. “Hmm?” She was stalling. She knew he wanted to know what she had been about to say earlier.

“What were you going to ask me?” He said this with a hint of irritation at having to explain himself. His crimson eyes rose to hers, regarding her through torrents of cranberry red locks.

Yuya didn’t answer at first. She poked at her fettuccini, which actually looked very appetizing for some reason. She took a few bites before saying gently, “I need to know who Ivy is.”

Kyo’s chopsticks faltered on his clump of noodles, dropping the bunch of them. His eyes squinted, fury written on his face. “Who told you about Ivy?” His voice was soft, deadly, making gooseflesh rise on Yuya’s arms.

Yuya tried to keep the tremor from her fingers and succeeded rather well. She would not meet Kyo’s eyes; it was too painful for her to see him angry with her. “Sakuya Mibu. In her report, it said that you had been hospitalized and you would say Ivy was still alive. Who is Ivy?”

Kyo slammed his chopsticks onto the table with such force that they cracked. “Goddamn bitch,” he muttered under his breath. Yuya knew he meant Sakuya. He ran a hand through his hair, getting up from the table and walking toward the living room. He paced for a while, muttering under his breath, before screaming, “Damnit!” and slamming his fist into the wall.

Kyo saw Yuya flinch out of the corner of his eye and sighed deeply, sagging against the wall. Yuya sat silently, twirling her pasta around a singular chopstick, waiting from Kyo to say something. She was suddenly not very hungry anymore.

The sound of Kyo sinking to the floor with a ‘whoosh’ made Yuya turn. He sat on the floor, keen up, arms resting across his kneecaps. His eyes looked haunted as he looked at the floor in front of him. After a few moments of silence, Kyo began.

“Ivy was my girlfriend. She was… perfect, I suppose you could say. She had everything, but… she was severely depressed all of the time. I thought I could help her. I think that’s why I asked her to be mine… I wanted to save her. I was young, stupid…” he snorted, shaking his head. “It was on my sixteenth birthday. I went over to her house. She’d apologized for not getting me a birthday present. Said she had something else to give me, though, and that I’d need to come to her place to get it…”

…Flashback…

Kyo didn’t mind walking the mile to Ivy’s apartment. It was a nice walk and a beautiful day. The cherry blossoms were out and the entire street was filled with their airy scent.

He reached her apartment a little after noon. When she opened the door, she was wearing a bikini top and a pair of jeans, fanning herself with a stack of stapled papers that Kyo recognized as their drama skit. She smiled, but it was a bare imitation of her usual expression. “Come in, birthday boy,” she teased him, but her voice was hollow.

Kyo walked in, kissing her softly while shutting the door with his foot. He then froze. “Wait, where’s your mom?”

Ivy only shrugged, turning away to walk into the house. It was sweltering inside the little apartment. “She and dad went with Toji to see some stupid play put on by the University players.” Her long, wavy black hair had been piled atop her head, loose ringlets falling into her tanned face. She looked like the Beach Goddess, if there was such a thing.

Kyo grinned, flopping down on the couch. “So,” he began. “Why’d you call me over? Not that I mind spending time with you, it’s just odd that your parents aren’t here.”

Ivy shrugged again, nonchalantly, and grabbed something from the back room. When she returned, she plopped into Kyo’s lap, legs straddling him, arms going around his neck. “I called you over,” she began softly, “because of this.” She held up an orange bottle with a label on it. ‘Prozac’ and ‘Tokadi, Ivy’ popped out in bold letters, along with the usage instructions.

“What… your antidepressants?” Kyo asked, feeling a small sense of foreboding creep into his mind.

Ivy nodded. There was a glimmer of manic happiness in her eyes as she whispered, “You and me, today. Lets make a lover suicide pact. These can be the weapon,” she whispered.

Kyo’s eyes widened. “Ivy-”

Ivy laughed softly, pressing her lips against his. “It won’t hurt, silly. It’ll be like watching a dream…”

Kyo shook his head, looking horrified. “No, Ivy, I am not committing suicide, lover or no. And neither are you,” he added, snatching the bottle from her hands and pushing her off of him. He stood, carrying the bottle to the sink; upending the medication, he watched it slide down the sink.

Ivy reacted with fury. She had tried yelling at him, tears, and finally hitting him. Kyo took the abuse, staring at her with something like sorrow in his eyes.

When she had calmed herself to the point of stepping back, she sighed deeply. “Kyo… I loved you. I loved you so much that it hurt. I thought, maybe, if we both went together…” she shook her head, turning to the couch. She reached under one of the cushions and pulled out a small, .22 Magnum NAA. “But I covered all of the bases, of course… Just in case something like this happened.”

Without giving Kyo enough time to even breath, Ivy raised the gun to her head, pulling the trigger.

…End Flashback…