X/1999 Fan Fiction ❯ Searching For..... ❯ Peace ( Chapter 3 )

Title: Searching For…
Author: JadeHeart

Archived: Found on CLAMPesque Board, AdultFanfiction.net and Fanfiction.net. If anyone else would like it, please ask me first!

Fandom: X/1999

Rating: X

Warnings: thoughts of death and violence, angst

Timeline: After the Final Battle in the anime series.

Summary: Fuma must face the world after the Final Battle, and himself. And so life goes on ...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this, they are all CLAMP's, nor am I making any profits from this.

 

 

Part 3 - Peace

 

 

“You need to get out,” Nokura said one morning at breakfast.

 

Fuma had finally become comfortable enough to eat in the kitchen with the Trio, although it was rare that all three were there at the same time. Generally he found it was only Nokura, who enjoyed cooking the most, and when Fuma had taken a mild interest in something he was making one morning, he had begun to give Fuma cooking lessons.

 

“It's not good for you just to hang around the house and go to school. How are you finding school now?”

 

“`Fine,” Fuma said, not really elaborating.

 

He wasn't lying. His grades were above average, not great, but certainly more than adequate, although he did have to do the homework to go with it, it didn't just come easily. He had struggled at first. He had missed a great deal of schooling due to the lead up to the Final Battle, and even before he had become the other `Kamui', his school work had suffered due to his father's death. So going back to school had been very difficult. Especially as he had to be in a class with students a year his younger to try and catch up.

 

But he had managed to get beyond this and his grades showed that improvement. He found that he was enjoying the ability to focus all his attention to studies. He found he could lose himself in it for a time - and forget everything else.

 

“So why don't you go out somewhere for a day or two?”

 

“Where would I go?” Fuma asked in complete honesty.

 

He had no where to go. His family was all gone, he hadn't kept in touch with any of his old friends from his old school, and he had made no new friends at this school. He knew no-one except the people here.

 

“What about seeing Seiichiro Aoki? You get along with him.”

 

“He's taken his family to America for a holiday. He had some work to do over there.”

 

“Oh. How long will he be gone for?”

 

“Probably about three months.”

 

“Ah. You hadn't said.”

 

Fuma just shrugged, concentrating on the chopping he was doing and trying to keep his long fingers out of the way of the sharp blade.

 

There was silence for a time, apart from the sound of the blade hitting wood, the bubbling of the pot on the stove and the stirring sound as Nokura swirled the spoon around.

 

“Why don't you go to Mt Koya?”

 

Fuma slipped with the knife and sheared some skin from the side of a finger.

 

“Ow!” he exclaimed, dropping the knife and bringing the bloodied finger to his mouth.

 

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” Nokura said hurriedly, “Quickly, under the tap!” as he turned it on and pulled Fuma's injured hand down under the stream of water.

 

As the blood washed away Nokura gently turned it from side to side, examining the cut. “Doesn't look too bad, you shouldn't need stitches but we had better get it taped up quickly.” He turned the water off and passed a towel to Fuma. “Here, pat it down dry. Don't worry about getting the blood on it.”

 

Fuma did as he was told as Nokura rummaged around in a cupboard and pulled down some elastoplasts. “Okay, let's have a look at it.”

 

Fuma passed his hand over to the other man, who also took the bloodied towel.

 

“Looks okay. Fingers always bleed a lot. Fingers, toes and ears are always the worst, even if the injuries are minor.” He dabbed a bit more around the wound, sopping up the blood and making the area as dry as possible. “Okay, this might hurt a bit.”

 

He spilt some liquid from a bottle onto some cotton wool and swiped it over the cut. Fuma sucked his breath in at the sting. Nokura smiled in apology. “It's tea tree oil, an antiseptic, so there shouldn't be any danger of infection.” As he was speaking he was quickly wrapping the elastoplasts around the finger, sealing the cut and swathing the finger in its protection.

 

“There!” he said with some satisfaction, looking at his handwork. “Could have been worse, but that should be fine in a couple of days.” He looked up at Fuma. “I am sorry. I hadn't meant to startle you so much.”

 

Fuma shook his head a little. “It's okay. I was just…surprised.” He looked over at Nokura then, a small frown on his face. “Why….why would you suggest I go …..there?”

 

He couldn't understand Nokura thinking it would be a suitable place for him to go sightseeing, and certainly not conducive of him relaxing. Mt Koya was where Sorata Arisugawa had lived. The boy he, Fuma, had killed. Mt Koya was not somewhere that Fuma wanted to go. And the people living at Mt Koya would most certainly not want to see Fuma.

 

Nokura looked him directly in the eyes. “How long do you intend to keep running from the past?”

 

Fuma looked away quickly. “Haven't you all told me to stop living in the past? That I should move on?”

 

Nokura reached out and touched his shoulder as he spoke. “Yes, you do need to move on. But moving on does not mean ignoring or avoiding what has occurred. If you do that you don't learn anything from it, and may be doomed to make the same mistakes again.”

 

“Mistakes?” Fuma looked at him. “I can't make the same mistake. Kamui is already gone.”

 

Nokura let out a soft sigh and turned back to the bubbling stove, turning the heat down to a simmer. “Fuma, you need to look at the past, at what happened and think it through properly. We all have demons in our souls, darker sides to our nature that haunt us. We can't necessarily change that, or the things we have done, but we do grow stronger when we can acknowledge those parts of ourselves and accept them, and learn how to control them. If we don't, our souls wither inside and we become nothing more than empty shells.” He shot a side long glance towards the silent Fuma. “You already know what that is like.”

 

Fuma did know - for that is exactly what it had been like as the other `Kamui'. Cold, heartless, uncaring, everything was nothing more than a plaything. And he had been nothing more than a shadow, a reflection, a mirror for other people's wishes. There had been nothing of him - nothing of Fuma - until his Kamui had placed a hand over his heart, looked at him with those brilliant violet eyes….and smiled. Then, and only then, had Fuma returned. So, yes, he knew exactly what Nokura was saying and how true it was.

 

“But why Mt Koya?” he said, picking up the knife that had fallen to the floor earlier.

 

“Because it is a special place, and the Stargazer is a great man. I think he would want to meet you.”

 

Fuma started and stared at Nokura as if he had suddenly gone raving mad.

 

“What on earth makes you think he wants to see me?!” he almost shouted. “I killed Sorata! I ran the Shinken right through his body up to the hilt! I sliced him through as though he was no more than an inconvenience and did it with no hesitation and a smile on my face!”

 

He dropped his face into his hands. “How…why would his Master want to see me?” his voice was muffled. “All I would do would be to bring him pain.”

 

Nokura's voice reached him. “I think you're wrong there. Yes, there will be pain. Yes, it will not be easy for the two of you to meet. But the Stargazer knew Sorata's destiny. Sorata knew his destiny. And they both accepted it completely, with no regrets and no hesitation. And finally being able to meet you, as you are now, would help the Stargazer know that all of it wasn't for nothing. that Sorata's passing did have some meaning, because the world has been saved and it was because of Kamui's wish that it is so. And you played a big part in that wish, Fuma. You know that.”

 

Fuma raised his head, tears pricking at his eyes. Part of his heart knew what Nokura was saying. He had to admit that Sorata had weighed heavily on his mind. He had killed the boy himself, just as he had Kotori. The other deaths may have also been his responsibility but it had not been by his own hand.

 

“It's too soon,” he murmured, turning away and laying the knife on the counter carefully.

 

“It's been more than eight months.” Nokura said quietly, back still to Fuma as he stirred. “You can't keep running forever.”

 

Fuma quietly left the kitchen.

 

**********************************************

 

The rumble of the engine subsided as the bus disappeared into the distance. Fuma slung the bag over his shoulder and looked up the path, then around the countryside. It was certainly beautiful here, he thought. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The clear, fresh scent of the air was refreshing. He let out a deep exhalation and opened his eyes again. Once more he looked up the path before him, hesitating.

 

It had taken another two weeks of thinking for him to come to this decision - to come to Mt Koya.

 

Nokura had said nothing more after their initial conversation. He had left it entirely up to Fuma. He had thought long and hard about what Nokura had said, what it meant. Should he go? Would there be any point to it? Would he help, or would it only cause harm? His thoughts had begun to drive him crazy. Should he, shouldn't he, would he, wouldn't he and so on. Finally he decided he had to do it before he went mad just trying to think about it. There were always consequences to any actions. He would just have to accept them, no matter what they were.

 

So that is how he now came to be here; standing at the foot of Mt Koya, trying to find the courage to take that first step.

 

A distant rumble of thunder drew his glance to the east. A bank of dark clouds lined the horizon, speeding towards him as the storm drew in. That decided him. He had to try and beat the weather. Getting caught on the side of the mountain in the storm would not be fun.

 

Turning again he mentally took a deep breath and stepped out, gradually lengthening his stride to walk quicker up the incline. He was fairly fit physically, but it wasn't long before he was puffing, and sweat coated his feet. He really hadn't been doing any form of physical activity or training since he had stopped playing basketball. He could never bring himself to go back to it at his new school; it had seemed something that belonged in the past, to a different Fuma. So this extreme cardiac activity was taking its toll. But for all that, Fuma welcomed those feelings. The stretching of muscles, the straining of the lungs, it meant that he was alive.

 

He hadn't reached his destination when the storm broke. The sky had darkened as the black clouds rushed in, the thunder loud enough to shake the air around him. The first clap had seemed to be directly over him, and he couldn't help the gasp and jolt of fear he felt. Nature was a fearsome creature. Across the mountain top lightening flashed, spiking downwards like angry dragons. He shied away from that thought. Enough about dragons.

 

He continued trudging on through the rain that assaulted him, whipped along by the wind that was increasing. His shirt was plastered to his skin, clinging, as were his trousers which made walking a little difficult as the fabric seemed to be trying to wrap around his legs and trip him up. He kept his eyes focussed on the ground before him, watching his step, fully aware that a misstep could cost him a broken leg in such conditions.

 

Suddenly he reached some stairs. Looking up he realised that he had finally reached the start of the temple complex. Slowly he mounted the first stair and began to climb.

 

Reaching the top he raised his head and used his free hand to push his dripping hair from his eyes. He looked around, seeing the glimmering of lights from various buildings, lighting the wide verandas and doorways, some lanterns swinging in the darkness where they were attached to archways leading in other directions.

 

He stood there, uncertain of where to go. He was completely unfamiliar with the temple layout. He had thought that there would be people around when he arrived that he could ask for directions, but in this weather everyone had wisely sought shelter.

 

He walked towards the largest structure. That seemed the most likely place to start. He began to mount the stairs, having only placed his foot on the first step when a sound above him made him look up. A figure was silhouetted there, wrapped in robes.

 

“Excuse me,” he began, taking another step. “Can you help me, please?”

 

The figure moved forward and stood under the swaying light of a lantern. The movement of the wind made the shadows flicker all around the woman, clothing her in light and dark alternately. Fuma stopped in shock, one foot still raised to take another step. The woman looked down at him, that same lantern showing the features clearly on his upturn face. She said nothing, made no move. Her face remained unchanging.

 

Fuma felt his heart twist in his chest, pain clawing through him…fear….horror…..revulsion. Not towards the woman before him….towards himself.

 

“No,” he heard himself voice in a barely audible whisper. He began to shake his head from side to side, refusing to believe, refusing to see, refusing to know, refusing reality.

 

“No….no……no!!!' and he spun away, bag dropping heedlessly to the ground as he ran.

 

He ran blindly, his feet slipping on the uneven ground made dangerously slippery by the torrential rain. He stumbled, making little progress, not even realising that he wasn't running in a straight line, nor was he actually running towards the freedom he was seeking as he had bypassed the entrance. He was sobbing, throat and chest hurting beyond belief. He tripped on something and fell heavily to his knees, the impact jarring his body painfully, something slicing into the palm of his hand and across one shin. He fell to his side and curled himself into a ball, arms hugging his shaking body, all the time his mind was saying over and over again…. No… no… no…..

 

The rain continued to assault his battered body, each stinging drop feeling like a blow, a deserved blow. Fuma wanted to die, for it to be over. Let the elements take him, take him away from himself.

 

Then suddenly the rain stopped. Or more to the point, the rain stopped reaching him. He could see through his half open eyes the rain drops still hitting the ground only about a foot from his nose, the little puffs of dirt being pushed upwards at the impact, but no further drops struck him. Something was protecting him. Someone was protecting him.

 

He half turned his head to look over his shoulder, rain, tears and mud streaking his face. A figure knelt next to him there, holding a large umbrella over his curled body; a figure with long brown hair that framed a still face with large deep eyes. Eyes that Fuma felt he could fall into their depths and never reach the bottom. Eyes that looked at him, but he could read no expression there.

 

Then he could hear other voices in the night, “Over here! They're over here!” and other hands were lifting him, carrying him. He realised that this woman continued to shelter him from the elements as they moved back to the buildings, and all the time he could not stop looking into those eyes. The eyes of Arashi Kishu.

 

He didn't really remember being carried back to the temple, or being taken to a room and laid down. He didn't remember his sodden clothing being removed and warm blankets being wrapped around him. His mind felt numb with shock. This could not be happening. It was not happening! She wasn't here. She couldn't be here! This was nothing but a nightmare!

 

But when warm, soft hands cupped his face and turned it, it was still Arashi Kishu's eyes that he saw. He tried to jerk away but the blankets impeded his movements.

 

“Stop it,” she said quietly, “lie still and have some tea. You were soaked through and we don't want you to get a chill.” She turned and picked up a steaming cup, holding it towards him. Her other hand slipped beneath his neck and tilted his head forward, the cup coming to his lips. “Sip it carefully. It's hot.”

 

He could do nothing but comply with her simple instructions, feeling somewhat like a little boy being scolded by his mother. He took a tentative sip and sucked his lip quickly. She was right, it was hot. He took another sip, feeling the warmth trickle down his throat into his belly, and then slowly, as he drank further, that warmth began to spread to the iciness of his limbs. When he had all but finished, she removed the cup and laid his head gently back down.

 

He continued to stare at her in silence, not knowing what was next. She returned his scrutiny, those deep, dark eyes searching his face. The intensity of her gaze made him flush and look away. He couldn't continue to meet her eyes, he didn't have the right to even look at her, not after all the things he had done. He closed his eyes and felt a tear slip from the corner. Why had he come here?!

 

“So,” her quiet voice cut through his self hatred. “You have come.”

 

He didn't turn his head. How she must hate him!

 

“I thought you might have come sooner, but I guess that was selfish of me to think that. It must have been very difficult for you after that final day. I'm afraid none of us really gave much thought to you. We were all so wrapped up in ourselves then. I hope you will forgive us?”

 

Fuma rolled over in surprise, half sitting up. “Forgive you?” he said, stunned.

 

She was asking for his forgiveness!? But he should be the one throwing himself at her feet begging for forgiveness, or for death! This was wrong! She should never even think that she should be asking for forgiveness from him! He had wronged her!!

 

“Yes. We were all hurting and could only think of escaping back to things that were familiar to us, to heal. We completely forgot about you. And that is something I've been praying constantly about. That I'm sorry I wasn't stronger, that I didn't stay to be with you and to help you, that I was so selfish and fled, only thinking of myself. I pray every day for Kamui's forgiveness. For not being able to extend a helping hand to you at your time of need, when all he had ever wanted was for your happiness.”

 

Fuma could only stare. She prayed ….for him? He didn't think there was anyone left who would pray for him. Maybe Aoki, now they spent more time together, but no-one else. And certainly he would never have dreamed that Arashi would have been.

 

“But you have done nothing wrong.” he said in a broken voice, tears beginning. “It was my fault. All my fault!”

 

She tilted her head to one side. “In a way, yes, you are correct,” she stated matter of factly. “But also in many ways, none of it was your fault. If we really wanted to be perverse we could say it was Kamui's fault. After all, it was in making his choice to be a Dragon of Heaven that then tipped you to become the `Kamui' of the Dragons of Earth. So shall you blame him?”

 

“No!” Fuma said vehemently, hands clenched. “Never!”

 

“Then how can you blame yourself?” she asked calmly.

 

“But it was me. It was my own hands….” and he trailed off, looking down at his spread hands before him. “There is so much blood on my hands.” he whispered, beginning to shake.

 

Two hands suddenly lay over the top of his, palm to palm. “Then it is time to cleanse them and begin anew.”

 

He looked up into Arashi's face. A small smile touched her lips, and there was warmth in her eyes as she looked at him. This only made him feel worse, want to weep more.

 

“But I killed ….him.” he whispered in anguish. “I …took him….from you.”

 

A cloud of sadness scurried over her face and a soft sigh left her lips. But the hands in his only squeezed reassuringly. “I know. But it truly wasn't you. And no matter what any of us tried to do, his destiny was sealed.”

 

She looked at him, holding his hands tightly. “Do you remember what I tried to do? That I turned my back on my fellow Dragons of Heaven all because of my feelings for one person? I was prepared to kill Kamui, even though I knew I was condemning the world to destruction, but I was prepared to risk everything, to commit any sin, to avert the fate that was set for Sorata. I would have walked through Hell for eternity if I knew that he was well and alive. I didn't want the responsibility of knowing that he had died for me, that I was part of his fate.”

 

She looked down, removing her hands and placing them on her knees. “I am ashamed of what I did, what I was prepared to do. But,” and she looked up and there was still a fierce pride and passion in her eyes. “I would do it all again if I had to. I know I was extremely selfish. I had never known how selfish I could be. It is something I hope that I can change in myself. And it was because of that selfishness that I left and didn't help you. I am sorry.”

 

“But you did what you did because you loved someone!” Fuma exclaimed, not wanting to see Arashi blaming herself, believing she had done something wrong. “You did it for love! What could be more important?”

 

Arashi smiled at him. “Yes, I did it for love. And didn't Kamui fight as he did for love? For you?”

 

Fuma was silent, looking into Arashi's warm eyes. She was right. Kamui had fought through everything, suffered everything, including so much at his own hand. And he had done it all for Fuma's sake. If that wasn't love, what was?

 

Arashi rose to her feet gracefully, but she seemed slightly off-balance which didn't seem to be right to Fuma's eyes. She moved over to the sliding doors and pushed one open.

 

The storm had passed whilst they had spoken, and the warmth of the setting sun shone through into the room, bathing the woman standing there looking out. Fuma could feel the warmth on his skin. It was nice, comforting.

 

Arashi turned sideways for a moment, a gentle smile on her face and a hand reached up to lightly rest on the swell of her abdomen.

 

Fuma started as it all became clear to him. All the signs had been there but he had been too wrapped up in his own turmoil to put the pieces together. Arashi was with child! And he had no doubt what so ever who's child it was. There could only be one person who was the father - Sorata.

 

Another intense stab of pain and guilt cut through him. He had killed Sorata, taken him from Arashi, and not only that, deprived his child from ever knowing its father. Sorata would never see his child, never know its touch, never hear it call to him. He had ruined so many lives.

 

Arashi turned fully to him, that gentle smile on her face still, the protective hand cradling her unborn child.

 

“But I do have you to thank for one thing,” she said softly. “For without you and Kamui I would never have met Sorata. And although he is gone, and yes, it does hurt, that hurt is better than the emptiness when I think of never having known him. The time we had together, every moment is so very precious to me. I can give all those memories to his child so they will know who their father was, how special he was. He is not truly gone, for he lives on in my heart and always will, and he will live on his child's heart also. And his child's child as well. Sorata will go on always. He can never truly die.”

 

Arashi walked closer to him and reached a hand down to touch his cheek. “So thank you. Because now Sorata is eternal.”

 

Fuma reached up a hand and held her warm one to his cheek. He closed his eyes as another portion of his soul slowly thawed, and glimpsed a memory of a smiling face with the baseball cap set at a jaunty angle, and a saucy wink as the youth disappeared into the distance.