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Between Rain and Sun	By : saxonjesus Category: +. to F > D. Gray Man Views: 2185 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We don't own DGM, just our original characters. Oh, and the plot too, if there ever turns out to be one in this particular fic. No profit is made from this venture.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3--No More Sorrow

March 17, 2014--National Capital Territory of Delhi, Delhi, India

It was perhaps the most terrifying journey Sasaki could have imagined. Yes,
Vikram had left him with a task, and he was going to fulfill his former lover's
dying request. He just didn't understand how many fucking Maitras there
were in India. It had taken him nearly a month just to get the correct
city--all the records were in Mandarin, which despite being half-raised in the
Asian Branch of the Order, he couldn't speak. But that had been the easy bit.
He stared at the dark wooden door with a feeling of trepidation. He only had a
picture dug up from the back of Vikram's drawer (the one he'd dubbed his
"Choon-yei drawer," since it was the one that contained the late old
lady's stolen lock of hair), and it had been taken years ago.

Sasaki couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of relief that washed over
him as a middle-aged woman answered the door, looking nearly identical to the
one in the picture. There were a few differences, of course. The woman's hair
was around the same length, though it was now streaked with several shades of
stormy gray. Wrinkles adorned her face in a sophisticated and artful way that
few woman could truly pull off, and her small brown eyes were emphasized by
subtle laugh lines. The woman couldn't have been taller than Choon-yei had once
been, and though she carried quite a bit of weight, Sasaki would not call her
fat. Perhaps something with more zing, like pleasantly plump. It put a positive
spin on those who were just slightly overweight.

The woman's face dropped a little, her smile fading as she took in Sasaki's
formal Exorcist uniform. Two children, both of them rather small and obviously
somewhere in the vicinity of six to eight, came up behind her, clinging to her
ornate, brightly-colored sari. The fabrics looked a fair bit cheaper
than the gaudy kinds he'd seen on the streets. While not the pinnacle of
fashion, they were pleasant in their own right, and Sasaki found himself liking
the outfit more than the others he'd seen.

"I'm sorry," the woman spoke in thickly-accented English, "but I
must ask that you return at another time. I'm hosting a party at the
moment." She began to back subtly into her house, and Sasaki ended up
nearly lunging to catch the door as the lady ushered her pouting children in.

"Wait," he said, his heart beating in slight panic. He couldn't let
the woman get away without at least conveying Vikram's final message. She
narrowed her eyes somewhat, but the set of her expression implied that she
would hear him out and that he'd better make it quick. Fishing into his pocket,
he produced the carnelian prayer beads Vikram had told the Japanese then-woman
he'd gotten from his father. The woman's eyes widened and her mouth became a
big "o" shape. A delicate yet slightly pudgy hand, decked out with
gold rings tipped with bright stones, made its way to her heart. She looked
quite faint. Taking a deep breath, Sasaki continued, "he would have wanted
you to have them, I think."

Her hand shaking with absolute shock, the woman took the string of beads from
his light grasp. She fisted them tightly, and her eyes began to water. Within
moments, tears began their sad tracks down her slightly round cheeks. "How
do you know my Vikram?" She asked him, her voice trembling as much as her
body.

"We were--" lovers, Sasaki wanted to say, but he could not.
Perhaps it would be better for Vikram's mother not to know. Perhaps it would be
best for the both of them. "He was my best friend." It tore at his
chest to say that. Because for years, even though they'd both fought it, they'd
been so much more. That space between best friends and boyfriends, that awkward
"won't acknowledge what I'm feeling" stage. And then he'd gone and
broken that silence, and Vikram had been so distressed. But still, they hadn't
truly been best friends since the day Sasaki had returned from Road's
possession.

"Come in, then, dear," Vikram's mother said. Sasaki forced himself to
nod even though his throat had tightened up beyond capacity for speech and
tears were sparkling in his eyes. To be so accepted by his former lover's
mother. By his best friend and first love's mother. It was something he had
always wanted.

He was ushered inside, where a full-out party was in bloom. At once, the
Japanese man recognized Vikram's father, whose image was also in the picture.
He looked aged beyond just fifteen years. He wouldn't say it out loud, but
Sasaki was almost positive it had something to do with Vikram's rash departure.

The large crowd within the home quieted when Sasaki entered the family room.
Many of the people looked like they were relatives. Vikram's father stood up,
recognizing the symbol on his jacket immediately.

"May I ask why someone from the Dark Order has come to my home? Is the war
not over? Have we not lost enough children to your war? Has our city not been
decimated because of it?" Sasaki wondered if the man knew Vikram had been
in the Order. Either from the documentary filmed in December or perhaps from
the preview shown on the news.

"Sanjay," Vikram's mother stood behind him, a calming hand upraised.
In it were Vikram's prayerbeads, dangling freely.

The old man's face drained of any rage that had been present, replaced only
with an expression of overwhelming sadness. It seemed as if the whole room
understood the significance of the beads.

"He was gone for sixteen years. We had long ago thought him to be dead.
Why, after all these years, did he not send us a letter? Why would he leave us
to think him a runaway?" Vikram's father's words were soft, pleading
almost, and all Sasaki could do was shake his head. Could he really tell these
people the real reason Vikram had not written? No, he couldn't. He couldn't
tell them that his friend had hated them. He would lie to them, because he did
not want anyone's memory of Vikram to be one of anger and sadness.

"He told me once that he didn't write because it was better to think him
dead than to have hope that he would be coming back. He asked me to come here
to apologize to you. He told me that he ran away out of a childish tantrum, was
found by the Order, and could not apologize for leaving. It was his last
request for me to come here. He saved my life, and I couldn't refuse." He
was crying, he felt the tears on his face, but he did not wipe them away.

He was not the only one. The whole room was crying, remembering old memories of
the little nine-year-old before his disappearance. Behind him Vikram's mother
was crying as well.

"The last thing I said to him was that I never wanted to see him again. I
was so stupid. Now I will never have the chance to tell him I'm sorry, I'll
never get to hug my baby again." Family crowded around the weeping woman,
and Sasaki felt like he was intruding in a very private moment, so he looked
away.

He felt someone approach him, and his still ingrained paranoia made him turn to
face the person. Vikram's father stood next to him, his hand outstretched as if
he had been about to place it on his shoulder before Sasaki had turned. The man
merely smiled and patted him on the sholuder.

"May we have the body? To say goodbye to?"

Sasaki flinched at the request. The only thing left after the Innocence had
washed the square clear was the button from Vikram's jacket. The one that they
had used to identify the ashes. It was the only thing Sasaki had kept. So
Sasaki shook his head but took the chain from his neck, where the button hung,
and handed it to the almost-elderly man. It felt like he was shedding a skin he
wasn't ready to part with.

The wizened man turned it over a few times in his hand, smiled that same
peaceful, almost knowing smile, and handed the necklace back.

"You keep it. To remember him by. We have the beads and you have the
button." Then the man walked over to his still sobbing wife and joined the
group hugging her.

The Maitras invited him to stay for dinner, saying it was the only polite thing
to do after his long journey. But really, they wanted him to stay so they could
hear more about Vikram. Sasaki understood, and he would have been glad to do it
if every memory didn't still feel too painful to recall.

He soon became acquainted with Vikram's whole extended family--they had all
come to live with Vikram's parents when the number of Akuma attacks had
increased in the more rural areas. He met all of his cousins, and his little
sisters, Shanti and Lavanya. He had to keep from crying each time another
family member was introduced. They all had Vikram's smile and easy attitude.
The evening ended late, and when it was finally time to leave, he was escorted
to the portal he had used in the Ark by most of the closer relatives. They even
hugged him goodbye.

His temporary home in the Ark seemed really empty, lifeless almost. He had
promised himself that he wouldn't mourn Vikram, that he would move on and be
happy like the crazy Indian had wanted, but Sasaki was finding that harder and
harder do believe such a thing was possible. He hadn't even worked up the guts
to go home yet. Hiroshi had already left the hospital and had pleaded with him
to come too, but he had already made plans to go to India. The only thing left
to do now was return to a quiet life in suburban Japan, maybe go to college. It
all seemed to be a rather boring prospect, but he had promised to move on.

---

March 20, 2014--Osaka, Japan

He had finally worked up the nerve. He had gotten out of bed, gathered his
belongings, and closed his door in the Ark for the last time. He then stepped
out of a portal and onto the quiet streets in suburban Osaka. The landscape had
definitely changed. There were no tall skyscrapers in the distance. Block upon
block of houses had been leveled, and it had not been long enough for new
buildings to take their place. He wondered how his tiny street had survived
such a catastrophic wave. But there it was, the second to last house on the
left, traditional tiled roof and all. Even the nameplate was still there.

He walked up the stone steps to the front door, pausing at the knocker and
wondering if he should use it. It was his home, but he had not been there for
over half his lifetime. How could it be that he had changed so much in fifteen
years and yet this small piece of his life had stayed the same.

He couldn't do this. He would stand there at the door for just a few more
seconds and then make a mad dash--the door was opening. A graying woman stood
at the entrance. She looked pale, and deep worry lines ran across her face. She
was almost unrecognizable. But Sasaki could still see the caring emotion in her
eyes, almost overshadowed by the sheer wonder they held at that moment.

"'Kaa-san," he muttered, disbelieving as well. He hadn't seen
the woman in front of him in so many years, and yet there she stood, exactly
the same as before, excepting the obvious toll age had exacted on her.

Before his grief- and shock-numbed brain could comprehend it, his mother was
pulling him into a firm embrace, one he had always missed, especially during
those confusing times with Road.

"Sasaki," his mother said, her voice breathless and sounding just as
overwhelmed as he was.

There was the sound of footsteps on wood. He looked past his mother's shoulder
to see another face that had nearly been obscured by time.

His father stood at the threshold, holding onto the door as if it were his only
anchor to reality. They looked at each other for a long moment before his
mother finally broke away. Sasaki couldn't move. He stood rooted to the stone
of the entryway.

His father raised his arms in a gesture that could not have been
misinterpreted. They both walked forward simultaneously, meeting in the middle
of the doorway for their first hug in fifteen years.

The minutes blurred by as he was pulled into the house, his possessions were
placed in the guest room, his old room long since renovated for his little
sister. He was hugged by his mother, saw his little sister and her boyfriend,
was smiled at by Hiroshi, and had his first home-cooked meal in far too long.

It was only as they sat around the low table, chatting lightly, that Sasaki
began to notice something was wrong. His mother had been quiet during almost
the entire meal, and there was a tension in the way she held herself that had
not been prevalent when he'd first walked in.

"They said you'd been killed by the enemy," his father, Haru, said.
His voice was distant, his eyes focused on something just as far. "You
were only seven."

Sasaki didn't quite freeze, but he stiffened enough for everyone in the family
to know that was a sensitive subject. His father shot him a curious look, but
he only shook his head. He didn't want his family to know what Road had done to
him.

"Ne, Hiro-chan, what did you tell them?" He asked his younger
brother. Hiroshi blushed a little bit, and Sasaki assumed the worst.

"Well, we all thought you were going to show up in a dress," his
father answered easily, moving from the cushion on the ground and to the couch
just a few feet away from the table. With a little huffing noise, Sasaki's
mother joined him.

Sasaki felt his face light up in embarrassment. He wished Hiroshi knew how to
keep his mouth shut. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.

"I'm over that now." He hoped his tone made his point. This
topic was taboo.

He heard his mother whisper something that sounded concerningly like
"thank God", but Sasaki chose to ignore it. He didn't want to face
disapproving parents just after returning.

The dinner progressed quietly, no one mentioning Sasaki's supposed
disappearance. But Mimi was really interested in the places he'd been. He had
seen many interesting countries during the war, but each memory was always
scarred by fighting or death. He couldn't look back on it with any nostalgia.
But he told his little sister the good parts, like seeing the Himalayas, the
Great Wall, London, Paris, Delhi, Moscow, New York, Washington, D.C. He told
her about seeing the Grand Canyon in winter with Chu-chan and Vikram. He
sincerely hoped he hid the hesitation his mind had at the thought of Vikram.

His father wanted to know about his friends. The thought of all the people he
had met was bittersweet. He told them about Allen Walker and Lenalee Lee, about
Lavi and Kanda, about Choon-yei and Chu-chan, Amanda and Darcy, all of the
people who had accepted him for his strange habits. He neglected to tell them
about Vikram.

His mother didn't ask him any questions; she didn't seem interested at all. It
kind of hurt--he'd been taken by the Order at such a young age, and he wished
that she was still acting as warm and welcoming as she had at the door. Her
gaze was making him nervous, so to distract himself, he cleaned the table and
washed the dishes. Cleaning always calmed him down. Tuan had always laughed at
how immaculate his room was.

He excused himself for the night, hoping to escape all of the questions that
his family seemed to just be brimming with. The little guest room seemed so
much larger than the small room the Order had provided him, it dwarfed even his
room in the Ark. He began to sort through his suitcase, looking to put away his
clothes. He had very few masculine clothes he realized, he had yet to throw
away all his skirts and stockings. Maybe Mimi could wear them, she was about
his size.

Staring up at the ceiling, trying to sleep, Sasaki wondered why it felt so
strange to be back. He should feel overjoyed to see his family again, be happy
to have survived, but he didn't feel that at all. He was happy to see the
people he remembered as his family, but they still didn't feel like family.
Hiroshi was the closest, but Mimi had been so tiny when he had left that he
barely recalled her at all. His parents were just smiling blurs of memory. He
didn't feel happy to have survived, he felt loss for all the people who didn't
make it. He knew he should feel lucky, hell, half the fucking planet had been
killed, but he didn't. He just felt like something was missing. This wasn't how
you were supposed to feel when you come home.

---

March 28, 2014-- Sasaki's Home

"Wow, these clothes are perfect! You have really good taste
Sasa-nii!" Mimi exclaimed as she sifted through his old clothing.

He wanted someone to use them and he definitely didn't want his mother seeing
that he still had them. He was pretty sure his mother did not approve of any of
this "type" of activitity. He'd heard her talking about the young man
next door in a rather derogatory way. But that didn't really bother Sasaki,
he'd just keep his orientation to himself. That was easy enough to do.

"Sasa-nii, who is Vikram Maitra?" Mimi was holding the necklace with
Vikram's button. He'd removed it last night and had neglected to put it back
on.

"Give me that!" He exclaimed, snatching it back from her. "Just,
just don't... touch that."

She looked at him curiously and a large smile spread over her face.

"He was special to you, huh?" Sasaki could only nodd, clutching the
chain in his hand, "Is that his goodbye present? Where does he live, you
could visit."

He could only shake his head at his sister's innocence.

"Yeah, you could say that. And I don't think I can visit where he
is."

He didn't realize he was crying until Mimi leaned over and wrapped her
arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry. I should have realized. Don't worry, I won't tell
'Kaa-san."

He hugged her tightly, realizing how nice it was to have someone to talk to. As
she pulled away, he saw that she was smiling.

"Hey, let's go shopping sometime, you need clothes, and I need to get to
know my Sasa-nii."

He was glad for the change of subject. He wanted to get to know his sister as
well.

---

April 3, 2014--Sasaki's Home

It was only Sasaki and his parents today. Both Hiroshi and Mimi were out,
doing who knew what, and Sasaki was left to deal with the growing tension
between himself and his mother. It had started off as small things:
disapproving of his long hair, saying he needed to look more manly, and the
most blatant had been when she had said he needed to find a nice girl and
settle down, because he was already old enough to move out.

He and his father sat a the table eating lunch, with his mother bustling about
in the background.

"I'm thinking of applying to architecture school. You won't have to pay,
seeing as the Coalition has given all the Exorcists retirement funds, but I
thought it was important to tell you."

His father nodded approvingly. His mother, on the other hand, frowned.

"Wouldn't you prefer a more manly career? Maybe an accountant?" She
offered innocently.

"Actually, Yumi, architecture is a perfectly many career. He'll be
rebuilding our great cities, making them even better than before the war."
His father supplied helpfully. Sasaki could hear a note of pride in the older
man's voice and couldn't help but be happy.

"Well, what about being a carpenter then? That's manly!" His mother
supplied.

"But it pays nothing, and I don't want to be living off the Coalition the
rest of my life. I want to help rebuild the war-torn parts of the county, do
something useful. That should be manly enough for you." Sasaki
responded coolly, not about to show how offended he was. His mother responded
with a short glare, but then turned back to her cleaning. Sasaki knew this
wouldn't be the end of the tension.

Several days later, his hypothesis was proven correct. Mimi had decided that
they were going to go shopping. The local mall had burnt down, so they were
going all the way to fucking Tokyo. He would have protested, but Mimi was
practically bubbling with excitement. He would have preferred using the Ark, as
Sebastian had provided him with a tiny transmitter that would allow travel
anywhere and anytime, but Mimi also insisted that they go the old fashioned
way. By train. It was the longest three hours and forty minutes of his life.

He wouldn't have believed the amount of paranoia he had built up. He was secure
in the knowledge that all the Akuma were gone, it was just that instinct was
often stronger than rational thought. Needless to say, he clung to his sister
the whole way.

It was worse in the mall, with everyone rushing everywhere, but he managed to
keep himself calm enough to focus on where they were going.

"Why are we at a hair salon?" He asked when they stopped in front of
the tiny boutique.

She gave him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, but 'Kaa-san said she would buy my a laptop if I got you to
cut your hair. I've been begging for one forever, so I have one for college,
but she's always refused."

Sasaki smiled at her truly sorrowful face. "It's fine, I was planning on
cutting it anyway, but I just hadn't wanted to go out into the real world. And you
know, I could have just bought you one, seeing as I am apparently loaded."

"What? Really? Well then, let's get you fixed up!" With that, she
pulled him into the salon.

Five hours and roughly 450,203 yen later, they were sitting in a tiny little
cafe along the still-bustling streets of a much less crowded Tokyo.

Mimi was chattering happily, all the while sending covert glaces at the box in
which her new computer sat. It had been a bit expensive, but Sasaki felt that
seeing his sister's face light up with glee was more than enough to make up for
the cost. Vikram had always been good with computers and had taught Sasaki all
that he had known, so he had been able to pick out the perfect laptop with
everything Mimi needed.

"Your hair looks really nice, Sasa-nii."

Running a hand through his substantially shortened locks, he smiled.
"Thanks, its nice to have a change of pace. I think it'll be perfectly manly
for 'Kaa-san's taste."

Mimi cringed a little at the obvious reference.

"I don't really understand what she has against gay people. I mean, you
have every right to love whoever the hell you want. She just can't see that
your orientation doesn't change who you are," his sister growled.

"I wish Hiroshi hadn't told you guys. I'm not exactly proud of that. I
would prefer to forget about it completely." He grimaced at the memories
that kept trying to resurface.

"You know you can always tell me. Whatever it is. Hiroshi, too, we'll both
listen."

"Thanks, but I think I'd rather keep those experiences to myself."

"That bad, huh?" Was his sister's response.

"Yes, it was that bad. I'm not ready to tell people." She seemed to
accept that answer, but it was obvious the question would stand until a later
date.

---

April 18, 2014--Sasaki's Home

The neighbor was hitting on him. And it wasn't subtle in any way, shape, or
form. Sasaki could literally feel the lust dripping from the man's eyes.
And Sasaki was not interested at all. He was so not ready for any form
of relationship, and especially one involving a man who had no job and no
prospects, and besides that, he still lived with his mother. Plus, the neighbor
was almost ten years older than he was. It was embarrassing having to deal with
someone who kept trying to touch his hair. It was creepy and disgusting
and... awkward. It also reminded him of how Vikram used to try and run his
hands through his hair, how the Indian man had softly brushed his hair and
swept it back into its customary low ponytail just before the final battle. It
had been enjoyable then, but now it was just wrong.

Not to mention that his mother had him under her super-hawkwoman vision of evil
at all times. To escape it, he had gone out into the garden, but instead of
finding respite, he had encountered this cretin. The man just wouldn't leave him
alone, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

"Did it hurt?" The man asked, pointing toward the barest hint of the
scar Road had left on his shoulder. Sasaki scowled.

"No," he said dismissively, hoping the neighbor would take the hint
and go the hell away. He wasn't ready for this, and even if he was, he wouldn't
choose this man of all people. No, the neighbor--Sasaki still didn't remember
his name, a conscious effort of his--wasn't that bad in the looks department,
with dark hair just a few shades lighter than Sasaki's own and eyes the color
of ebony, with a bulky build implying strength and fitness. Sasaki supposed
that any man or woman would look twice at his neighbor, but he could not force
himself to do the same. It was too painful, the feelings too close to the
surface to do anything but mourn. It was wrong.

"It looks deep, though," the neighbor pointed out. Inwardly, Sasaki
seethed. Was the man really that thick? It was frustrating to listen to.

"Of course it looks deep, it was a deep wound," he bit out through
clenched teeth. The neighbor took a step back, his arms raising as his
agreeable-looking face rose into an expression of alarm. It seemed the man was
finally getting the message.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up anything painful for you. It's just...
you seem kinda lost here. I noticed you just moved in with the Morikawas a few
weeks ago. Are you a relative?"

Or not.

"I'm the eldest son," Sasaki growled, fisting his hands in the grass
on which he was sitting. He desperately wished there was a fence between the
two yards, but apparently, his parents had never seen fit to install one. Even
though his mother would probably be glad to fence the gay guy out or something.

That was another annoyance; his mother would never just shut up. Sasaki knew
his mother was homophobic, and while that fact bothered him, he couldn't help
but hope she would accept him, simply because he was her son. He didn't care if
she thought he was gay because he couldn't get girls--an opinion he'd heard her
voice whilst mumbling about the neighbor's "scandalous
activities"--as long as she would just stay on his side. It was a stupid
hope, but he could prevent it no more than he had been able to prevent Vikram's
death two months ago.

"Really? I'd always thought that was Hiroshi-san," the neighbor said
lightly.

"No, I... spent many years abroad." He surely wasn't about to tell
this complete stranger his life's story. First of all, it wasn't the
guy's business, and second of all--no, that was it. It wasn't the guy's business,
and if he kept pursuing dangerous topics like this, someone--well, the
neighbor, at any rate--would end up severely injured.

"How fascinating. Where did you stay?" It seemed all that Sasaki had
done was spark the man's interest. Goddamn, he wanted to get out of this
garden, go somewhere quiet where he could just relax and look down at the small
button filched from Vikram's jacket and try to find some sort of peace in the
world. Peace was what he needed: peace to find himself, peace to find his place,
and peace to finally break the wall in his heart that the Indian man had left.
Maybe with enough peace, Sasaki could finally put the past behind him and let
go.

"China mostly, then Britain," he answered coldly, glaring at the
neighbor as an indication that he wanted this conversation to stop. But the man
just didn't seem to get it. Still.

"So, were you studying there?"

"Would you just shut the fuck up already!? I'm tired of listening to your
fucking pick-up lines, and if you don't stop messing with my fucking hair, I'll
fucking kill you! Can you not get the hint that I don't want to fucking be
around you? And yes, that injury did hurt! Wanna know how I got it? I
got stabbed with a knife by a little girl while we played 'grown-up
cooking.'" He knew he'd switched back to atashi, but at the moment,
he was too incensed to do anything but just keep going off on the fucking
neighbor. "I don't want to hear another fucking word from you!"

He tried to storm off, tears of agony and sadness and stress and maybe emotional
exhaustion pouring down his face like he was five years old again and Hiroshi
had stolen his favorite toy.

But karma didn't like him.

With a firm hold, his neighbor gripped his wrist with an almost painfully tight
pressure. Sasaki tried to pull away; he twisted his arm about, but the man held
on until all sensation in his appendage had gone numb. The neighbor pulled back
sharply, yanking Sasaki around so that he was facing the taller, stockier man.

"You're like your mother, then?" The man asked roughly, staring him
intensely in the eyes. Sasaki recoiled from it. He didn't want that kind of
intimacy, didn't want to feel so very close to this stranger as tears
ran relentlessly down his face.

"No, I'm not," he said defiantly, trying to struggle again. The man
held him fast, allowing for no escape, and pulled him forward, the hand not
bound to Sasaki coming around to brush at the small of his back. It felt hot
and weird, nothing like Vikram's had been--warm, spreading tingles of sensation
all across his torso.

They were coming close, too close, so he turned his head. This couldn't happen,
he wouldn't allow it. Squeezing his eyes shut and wrenching his mouth closed,
he trembled, waiting for what was invariably to come. It was unlike him,
somehow, but so very like him at the same time. His reactions were still those
of a girl, much as he'd tried to rid himself of the vestiges over the past few
months. But some things could never be erased. Sasaki knew immediately this was
one of them.

Lips touched his briefly and then pulled back. Still he trembled, his eyes and
mouth closed and his hands fisted as tight as he could make them. The neighbor
made an interested noise, but it seemed negative, like one of defeat.

"Sorry," he said, releasing Sasaki. The Exorcist stayed rooted to the
ground, stuck in place by a force far beyond his comprehension. "I didn't
mean to... are you okay?"

No, Sasaki wanted to say, wanted to yell, I'm not okay! I'll never
be okay! Vikram's dead and now you're putting your hands all over me like I'm
some kind of whore!

Instead, he nodded, more tears falling from his still clenched eyes. He was
still a girl, still a damsel to be owned by the strongest man who could claim
her. Ladies are damsels, sweet flowers who wait for their prince to come and
sweep them away. Road had told him that. But his prince was gone, and he
was no girl. There was nothing, ladylike or not, that he could do to stop the
tremors or the tears.

At some point, his legs gave in, and he began to clench at the grass again,
simply because it was satisfying when he accidentally tore it from the ground.
It felt like he was destroying something, like Akuma. It felt like he was
getting closer to his Innocence. Maybe, a little voice in his head hissed
slyly, it felt like he was closer to Vikram this way.

---

It was Hiroshi who found him, and he called Mimi, who joined her older brothers
immediately. She pulled Sasaki into a hug and whispered comforting things in
his ear that his mother had said once. It's okay. Everything will be
alright. Hush now, everything's just fine. Stupid things. Simple things.

He needed to hear them, he realized, his arms automatically rising to encircle
his sister's back.

They brought him into the house, past his mother, who gave another dissapproving
cluck. Sasaki thought he heard something about "...with the neighbor!"
But he couldn't be sure, and he was too tired, too drained, too violated,
to deal with his mother right now.

Because he knew his hope was groundless.

Wordlessly, he clutched the button--held tightly in his fist during the
entirety of his infuriating "conversation" with his neighbor--to his
chest. The tears had faded just after Mimi had showed up, but their tracks were
left on his cheeks. His younger sister left him and Hiroshi for a bit, and they
stayed in silence until she returned with a wet washcloth. Slowly, she began
wiping away the marks of emotional upheaval.

He told them. Not everything, but some things. Like how he missed Vikram so
much it hurt, like how Chu-chan was brain dead and had had his plug pulled,
like how he felt so alone without his two best friends around, like what it had
been like to fight side-by-side with them, like how it had felt to watch as
Vikram jumped in front of him with arms outstretched, like how he had cried in
Yuu-san's room because he felt like the other Japanese man was the closest
thing he had to a friend now, even though he was in a coma, like how he still
wanted to hurt, maybe kill, Road for what she'd done to him, like how he was
still confused as to who he saw in the mirror every morning.

And they understood. They hugged him and accepted him for who he was, no matter
what crazy notions he had in his head, no matter who he had slept with in the
past, no matter how long it would take him to get better, if such a thing was
possible. But most of all, Sasaki knew that they would always support him.

It felt very, very good to have a family. It was not something he had felt in a
very, very long time.

---

May 10, 2014--Sasaki's Home

Today, it was just him and his mother. His father was out helping the elderly
neighbors move debris from their yard. He had told Sasaki to stay because he
wouldn't really be needed. Mimi was out with her boyfriend and Hiroshi... he
was hiding from their mother mother in the attic. Because he was the only one
tall enough to reach the crawl space. He had a mini fridge, a tv, and a cooler,
so he would be gone for hours, or at least until dinner. So Sasaki was
stuck.

So far, they had managed to be civil with one another, sharing a quiet tea time
together. But the way his mother was glancing nervously at him told the retired
Exorcist that hell could break loose at any moment, or at any word.

"So, Sasaki, tell me more about life in the Order," his mother said
expectantly.

Oh, for the love of God. This would not end well. But maybe there was still
hope.

"What do you want to know?"

She had something in her hand, but it was obscured by the table. She also had a
curious look on her face.

"Who is Vikram Maitra?"

The question was posed innocently enough, but there was an easily detected hint
of anger there as well. Sasaki froze. He had forgtten to put on his neckalce
with the button, and his mother had been dusting around the house earlier that
day. It had been on his nightstand in plain sight. He would have to lie. He
didn't want her to know about his Vikram.

"He was a friend," He said simply.

Her eyebrows rose impossibly high. "Oh, really? You didn't mention him
before."

"Well, that's because he's dead."

"You mentioned others who died. Why leave this one out?" Was she
trying to get him to say it? He had to guess yes, she probably wanted something
to yell about.

"Well, he was my best friend, my first friend at the Order. It hurts to
think that he's dead."

"But why keep a button?" That question was genuine curiosity, but
this whole conversation was upsetting him.

"Because it was the only thing left of h-him." Fuck, he'd stuttered,
that would give her even more ammo against him.

"I have a feeling you were more than just best friends. Am I
correct?" Her face was dark, full of accusation when there should have
only been concern.

"Would it upset you if I said yes?"

That was all it took; she had her confirmation and now she could exploit it to
its fullest.

"I don't want any of that kind of activity in my home. I don't want to see
any of that."

Sasaki felt his face heat up in anger. He'd had to deal with this for the past
few months, her skirting around this topic, it was almost refreshing to have
the truth out in the open.

"Any of what kind of activity mother? You don't want any
homosexuality in your home? Well, sorry to burst your ignorant little bubble,
but that's what I am! Not by any choice of mine! I did not choose to be this
way, it's the way that I am and you should be okay with that because I am your
son. Why can't you accept the fact that I am different? I like guys, so what? I
used to dress like a woman, why does that matter? Is it my fault that I lost my
sense of identity when I was seven after being kidnapped and tortured and made
to believe that I was a girl?! I thought I was a girl for fourteen years! I
still have trouble distinguishing between Emiko and Sasaki! You know what?
I'm sick of this. I'm leaving, and I hope to all the Gods that I never see you
again."

He stormed from the room, flying down the hallway and into the guest room. He
packed all of his clothes and belongings and was ready to leave when he
realized just how disgustingly dirty everything in the room was. He
couldn't leave it like that, could he? It needed to be dealt with immediately.

He folded up his futon, packed it away in the closet, stowed the sheets and
took out the vacuum cleaner from the hall closet. After spending a sufficient
amount of time making sure all the corners were free of cobwebs, he went about
cleaning the windows and wiping of the bookcase and nightstand. There were some
scuff marks on the walls. Those had to go before the room was fit to be left.

"Sasaki?" His father was standing in the doorway, "Wow, when I
came in I thought you would be gone already. Why are you cleaning?"

The response was immediate, something ingrained in his head after years and
years of rehearsing, "Well, ladies are supposed to clean, aren't
they?" And then he realized just what had slipped from his mouth. He tried
to take it back. "Atashi... fuck."

He wondered if he had slipped while talking with his mother. That would make
sense; he always seemed to have trouble when he was upset.

His father was looking at him with wide eyes. He walked into the room
completely and took the cloth from his son's hands.

"I'm sorry that she doesn't understand. Are you sure that you want to
leave?"

There was no questioning the obvious answer. His father saw that in his eyes
and nodded acceptingly.

"Well, I still love you, Mimi and Hiroshi too, even your mother, so stay
in touch." The gray old man hugged him and pressed something into his
hands.

When he pulled back to see, it was Vikram's button, torn from the chain. But
the chain didn't matter, at least he had the button.

"Oh, and Sasaki, here. Call this number if you need anything, I'll help in
any way I can."

He took the proffered post-it note and saw a cell phone number printed on it.
He stuffed it into a pocket and grabbed his possessions to leave. Hiroshi was
down from the attic, and both he and his father bid Sasaki farewell. His mother
was nowhere in sight, but perhaps that was for the best. Now the only thing
left to do was find a nice little apartment somewhere far away. He hoped Mimi
would forgive him for leaving without saying good-bye.

---

A/N: You may be wondering why Sasaki got a whole chapter to himself. It was
actually just the way the word count added up. Most of this chapter was written
by Em1, because she is awesome like that. And also this was written when Em2's
adapter failed completely and she had limited access and could only stare
helplessly and suggest lines as Em1 typed away. It's also a nice character
study--it's a good way for us to develop original characters. Plus, Sasaki's
thoughts are easy and simple and fun. We don't know how it turned out that way.
:/ Don't worry, though, more of the canon characters and failure at some
semblance of smut in next chapter! :3
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