Somewhere in the summer garden | By : rafusen Category: +. to F > Fushigi Yuugi Views: 2586 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Fushigi Yuugi, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: I disclaim, that I do…
Warnings: Angst, language, disturbing imagery…the usual. Note that I put ‘angst’ first. Isn’t that what it’s always about? But seriously, where am I going with this? Is Naka-chan playing innocent? Is Chichiri really insane? Will Tamahome start sleeping in his own bed? Should Tasuki do a striptease?
Chiri: -.0 What!
Tasuki: …<< >> All right, I knew that’s what ya really wanted anyway…*yanks off shirt*
Chiri: *faints*
Mits: Now look what you did.
Tasuki: Jus’ couldn’t take the heat, I guesss…*snicker*
Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum…. Here we go!!!
I’m having dreams again…
Dreams like those I encountered directly after everything came to closure that evening in early October, when the wind was just beginning to take on a chill, the leaves slowly undergoing a metamorphosis of color with their imminent decay… My garden suffocating under the heaps of dead foliage, hibiscus long withered away, a mere memory of the glorious and infinitely warm summer she and I had spent together…
Shifting, warping within the confines of my mind, shapeless words and distorted pictures, terrible, unfocused, and that memory protruding sharply against the vivid colors and imagery, that memory of her delicate form torn from life, alabaster hands curled gently around a razor blade, lips stained with her own blood…and, in the darkness, I hear screams, faint, and then loud, overwhelming, covering everything like a sweltering mass of molten iron--
--and I always seem to wake, right before the worst takes place, right before I find her…
The seasons are recalling to my mind these painful things. Glancing up from my studies, I see the plum blossoming outside my window, fragrance delightfully heavy in the cool air, petals quivering from the soft breeze. It’s really becoming rather cool, and I must admit, I’m grateful; the heat from the past months was unbearable, even with the tiny, shaking A/C pumping out a false sense of refreshment. Tamahome would sit directly in front of it, fanning himself violently and sipping iced green tea, whining like an overheated engine, cursing the Headmaster for his cheapness.
But now, the October wind…carries that lovely, long awaited crispness, littered throughout with brightly colored leaves, swirling about in scattered patterns, and my heart….hurts…
I had arranged, after some difficulty, to have my group outside for a day. It would do them good, or so was my running argument, to get some real air and quit inhaling all those cleaning fumes. The Headmaster suggested it would probably do me more good than them, and it flashed across my mind, for the first time since I arrived, how little I enjoyed the privilege of being alive, of the world around me. Perhaps that’s really why I was pushing for it with such vigor, or perhaps…in a way, I may be trying to take my mind off of other things, things that my subconscious keeps bringing into full view, allowing me no rest.
Over the past two months, it seems things have begun to change. A new crew of nurses was brought in about three weeks after my original complaint, ones less inclined to violence, and the patients reacted rather pleasantly. Nuriko hasn’t attempted another suicide since the ‘bird egg’ incident (as we now refer to it ) occurred, which, according to the Headmaster, proves my worth, as Nuriko was performing at least one attempt each week since he arrived, although usually they were only partially contrived and full of holes. Hotohori seems to be a little more aware of his surroundings, and has actually sought out friendship with Nuriko, huddling close to him to inform him of his moods, thoughts and desires. This is normally how I find out what Hotohori wants, needs, etcetera. I suppose this sudden attention has also helped Nuriko a great deal, as well, for he seems to be openly thrilled with the idea that Hotohori has chosen him, out of all the patients on the ward, to confer with. I shouldn’t say they’re happy, because, in truth, they aren’t, not truly; yet it’s something similar, and it feels almost…good.
Tasuki is still behaving strangely, as one might expect from an individual with double-sided schizophrenia ( it seems he has both paranoid and disorganized) and dissociative identity disorder; and yet there is change here, too. His sudden mood changes, violent surges and blatant sexual behavior are somewhat reduced from the constant flow from before…it has lessened in pace, shall we say, and he is, at times, childishly normal, smiling and chattering away with other patients until a sudden onset of paranoia takes him. I think, personally, it may have something to do with the old staff being relieved of their duties, which almost always meant, for Tasuki, a beating or a mental probing. His newfound joy at simply being able to laugh, cry, or slap himself and not be punished for it is exquisite, although I also noticed he seems to be in a straight-jacket more often than not.
And Chichiri…he…pretends to be strong, refusing to answer Headmaster during therapy sessions, spitting out his medication when he thinks no one is paying any mind, weeping softly only when his head is covered underneath the warm security of his thin sheets. I pity him, because deep in my soul, I feel his sanity fading away, fading into despair, depression. He does not belong here, and yet, I would not want him to suffer further in a prison, where he might endure…well, and I think he already has seen, and experienced, quite a bit in such places. Involuntarily, I suppose, at first, I began wandering into his room, during his rest period, to converse. He always listens, carefully attentive, eyes full of gloom and sympathy, as I rake over the past, the present, and my incongruent fears and wishes. And then, sometimes, he will speak of some unknown childhood, memories that he likes to remember, moments that bring something to him I cannot explain…a melting tranquility, softly lighting his soul, caressing his worn heart. It would be wrong to befriend them, no matter how normal; and yet, I am afraid that is exactly what we have done, exchanging our thoughts and secret reminiscences, welcoming that subtlety divine, joyous emotion. He even allows my hand to graze his shoulder now and then, though I feel every muscle tighten and spasm, an automatic reaction, probably self-taught from his days ie pre prefecture prison. This upsets me immensely, for I cannot know what it must be like, to fear to be touched, to fear that wonderful, endless warmth that only human love can convey…it makes me sad, knowing that someone has hurt my friend so terribly, he refuses to let himself know this feeling, to experience this happiness.
The Headmaster, displeased with this apparent lack of determination, has suggested to me on more than one occasion that Chichiri be subjected to some ‘treatment’, or bio feedback, for further research. Up until now, I have fought him over this idea, reasoning that he still isn’t adjusted and to please, please give him a little more time…the medications he’s taking will eventually begin taking effect, he’ll eventually be more open, once he feels more comfortable in his environment, think of how difficult life has been for him…every excuse I can conjure has been used in his defense, because…because, I really don’t want him to experience that. I know he’ll feel I’ve betrayed him, if it comes to that.
Now, gazing out at the swiftly approaching twilight, I rise, stretching laboriously. They’ll be waiting for me, and I only have a little time to show them what the evening sky looks like, how sweet the withering flowers smell on the rushing wind, the song of the bell cricket, sorrowful and endlessly encompassing, reaching through the night, into the stars, carrying my heart with it…
Gathered in the Main Hall, Nuriko squeals enthusiastically at my slow and undeterminably excruciating arrival, grabbing my sleeve and tugging, motioning for Hotohori to follow suit. Unexpectedly, I find the both of them clinging to either sleeve, Nuriko blurting out how he’s just been waiting fer ter to see the autumn leaves again…how he waits all year just to feel them fall in his hair…
It’s all so human.
Tasuki follows close behind me, as if afraid that something dreadful is awaiting at the exit, a great heaving monster known as freedom, just outside these milk white walls, exhaling pure and wondrous air onto us, the last, orange lights of the sun bathing our forms. Tasuki is indeed beautiful, his amber eyes aglow with the luminosity pouring forth from between the trees; red hair, standing upright, shining luxuriously; his tan skin takes on a golden sheen, our miniature and extremely ill Gane, se, standing afore all the world, shivering slightly from the cool, enveloping wind. He turns to me, mouth poised for a question, then looks out, again, over the vastly variegated yard, breathless, eyebrows knitted in furious thought.
- It’s so beautiful, he whispers, so beautiful, so beautiful…
- Autumn, I say softly, is always this way. When did you see it last?
Nuriko has taken Hotohori’s hand generously, and is now walking him over to an oak, majestically donned in it’s myriad of vibrant leaves, offering his hands up to catch the colors.
- I…he looks at me, sunlight clinging to the sensuous curve of his cheekbone, I…I can’t…remember. I don’t know. Staring into the sky, he sighs audibly, his arms shifting uncomfortably in the fastenings of his straight-jacket. I haven’t been outside…since…well, I can’t remember. He studies the other patients, seated in the courtyard, talking amongst themselves, or to themselves; watching with finality the last of the sun’s light disappearing over the red horizon. I turn around, see Chichiri leaning against the wall of the Barrack, eyes closed, breathing in the revitalizing scent oe aue autumnal air, arms folded neatly over his chest.
- C’mon, you two, I tap Tasuki’s arm, then motion for Chichiri to join us. I want to show you something. Tasuki smiles curiously, leaning his head against my upper arm, eyes darting to and fro, taking in all the color, all the movement that he’s been missing for the small eternities he’s been confined. Chichiri walks with us, hesitatingly, always a few feet behind, and I know what he is doing, he’s eyeing the electrical fences, the tiny sparrows perched carelessly on the twisted, barbed tops, preening obliviously. He wants out so badly, I can the pressure building in my skull, and what would I do but lift him up, up and over those mountainous fences, if I could…
- It’s not much of a pond, motioning to the delightfully petite body of water before us, fenced, of course, but still a lovely view, if you can ignore all those disruptive lines stretching , marring the scenery. Tasuki seems so used to it, he looks beyond it without faltering, grinning wide.
- Wow, I didn’t know they even had a lake here! I been left in the dark! He presses his face against the wire, smiling to himself endlessly, turning to Chichiri excitedly, I want to touch it!
- But you don’t know how to swim, Tasuki, I gently inform him, and besides, it’s probably very cold this time of year. He appears disappointed, but it doesn’t last very long, as Nuriko, shrieking with elation, brings over handfuls of variously colored leaves, Hotohori trailing behind in a rather dignified way, cradling a twig, full of withered blossoms, as gingerly as one might a new born.
- Look! Aren’t they lovely? He sits down, on his knees, spilling them on the ground before us. Tasuki struggles to squat beside him, as his arms are not available for use, swaying unsteadily. I sprawl out , unfurling my tired body unto the soft, pleasantly scented grasses beneath, , folding my hands underneath my head. The sky is so vast ; the stars are just now showing themselves, a glittering veil of tears, and I think of her…
Some god must be crying very hard to make so many stars, Mitsukake…
What do you mean?
I always thought they were tears from the gods. It makes sense to me.
It does, doesn’t it?
- This reminds me…Hotohori’s voice, suitably noble and smooth, breaks through my daydream. This reminds me of some old Chinese poetry I studied in college. He sounds so entirely normal I gawk at him, until he glares in my direction sullenly, pulling a small maple leaf to bits. Returning to my thoughts, I quickly do a head count; reassured, I close my eyes…
- What poetry? Like, T’ang Dynasty?
- Well, yes. I suppose. That sounds about right. I feel as if we should be seated in a pavilion somewhere…
- That would be so lovely…I hear a very familiar intonation in Nuriko’s voice, slightly disturbing. It was brought to my attention, by the Headmaster, naturally, that Nuriko has a tendency to fall in love with whoever will talk to him seriously. I thought perhaps he was doting on Hotohori a little much, especially when, in a fit of jealousy, he told me to let Hotohori to him, he’d take care of him. I know I laughed at the time, but now…I wonder if this will affect his moods. He seems happy enough, even if it’s loosely based. I suppose my turning my head would be better, anyway.
- Do ya think ole’ Nakago will let us out more now that Mits’s here?
- I hope so. I hate being cooped up in my room all the time, it’s dreadfully depressing.
- …I remember before I came here, my mother an I would go mountain viewing in the autumn. It was always my favorite thing to do.
- Sometimes my family would go cherry viewing, but we never went ‘mountain-viewing’.
- It’s not something I would say is a common practice.
>- H>- Have you ever gone to Kyoto in the spring? It’s so gorgeous! All those flower petals flying everywhere, I used to dance under them, and my dad would yell at me--- I never seen nothing ’cept maybe once a dead cat. Somebody run it over.
- Eew!! Don’t bring things up like that, Tasuki! I’ll be sick!!
- Ah, shut-up. You never seen a dead cat before? There was worms crawlin’ all over it--
- Yuck! I said be quiet already! Rustling of leaves, a mewling sound, giggles. I feel a something warm against my chest, a hand, I believe, and then something more; opening my eyes a crack, I see Chichiri laying his head on my chest, hand sliding along my ribs, embracing me. I stroke his hair softly; the breeze blows Nuriko’s leaves about, soaring up into the open heavens, stars now sparkling in full grandeur. I know…I know this…
Don’t let go. Don’t ever leave me, please.
How could I ever leave my life?
You love me, don’t yoP>
P>
I love you more than anything. I would open up the very heavens to retrieve you.
On Earth, as a tree sharing a branch; and in the Heavens, as birds of one wing…
- Mitsukake…
It’s so cold, and yet I would love to stay here, I’ll never leave you again…
- Mitsukake-san…
- Mitsukake, what’s wrong?!
I open my eyes to the darkness, accented by the sheer, powerful moonlight, outlining everything in a gray-blue. Chichiri is staring at me in confusion; the others, too, are leaning over me curiously, Nuriko, plucking at the withered flower twig. Chichi eye eyes are brimming with sadness; I place my hand on his face tentatively, and to my astonishment there is much warmth there.
- What…what’s the matter?
- You…you were…Chichiri breaks off, glancing at Nuriko, who holding his face in his hands dramatically; Tasuki is gaze is fixed intently on my cheeks and I feel, with a chill wind, the tears I’ve been crying swiftly coursing down my visage…
- It’s nothing, I sit up, rubbing my eyes, wiping them away, leaving a salty smear as a memory. Something got in my eye, I think…
Tasuki won’t take his eyes of my face, the faintly outlined traces of my tears. He almost looks…angry, but there is something else there, some emotion I can’t place, riddled into his features sharply, and uddeuddenly leans against me. I am startled, as he nestles his head under my chin, only for a moment, allowing me the delicious scent of his freshly washed hair, the soft feel of it against my neck. Nuriko glances at Chichiri uncertainly, then inches toward me, cautiously, circling his arms around my right one, holding me close. My shock must be obvious, for Chichiri smiles faintly, eyebrows furrowed, and pats my hand. Hotohori follows Nuriko’s iniive ive and takes my other arm.
We stay like this for too long, I suppose. Night’s shadows are conclusive upon us, draining the world of color. The silence is fathomless; I can hear the gentle lapping of the pond’s fragilely small waters against it’s shore. And I have no desire to leave them in their barracks, alone and afraid, strapped down helplessly, injected with sedatives for sleeping and anti- psychotics and whatever else Soi would have.
I see Tamahome in the distance, emerging from the Patient Barracks worriedly, and I call out to him. He spots us, raises an eyebrow, grinning, then lopes over, tucking in his oversized work tunic all the while.
- It’s after lights out, he informs me. Soi is going fucking crazy over in the nurses quarters. He laughs, You’d better get these guys back to their rooms before she starts some shit over this, my man. He pulls Hotohori up, brushing off his backside for him genially. There you go, come on, you don’t want Soi to get mad at you, right?
- All right, let’s go. I help Tasuki to his feet, clasping his shoulders lightly, and I whisper in his ear, Thank you, thank you for…this. He doesn’t know how to respond; he just stares, motionless. Chichiri pushes him ahead, rather roughly, and Tasuki smiles to himself.
If I can give them this little bit of happiness…then it might be worth it.
Shouka, please don’t cry. I know you’re hurting, but…
I can’t help it. They just keep coming out, no matter what.
If I only knew how to help you…then I could make it stop, right?
You always…you love me, don’t you?
How could I not?
The hallways are so dark. I see them all into their rooms, strapping them in as necessary, whispering ‘goodnight’ as they stare at me in awe. Chichiri stares the most, and then, he pulls me to him, holding me as I weep, ceaselessly, and I cry out for her, beg for her to come back to me, not to leave me so alone…
Oh, it hurts, my love. I do know.
- It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right, Chichiri repeats this melody, stroking my back soothingly, whispering these gentle assurances in my ear. I don’t know how long this goes on for; it seems like hours, yet I know it could only be minutes, for I hear the night watch walking briskly through the reverberating hallways, a metallic sound as his heels click noisily.
- I’m sorry…to trouble you…I compose myself, going to the door as he watches me, and then, his voice, clear and heartbreaking:
- Mitsukake, you…you must’ve loved her very much…
- I did. I still do…
His s fls flutter up to his face, sighing, I know, I know she must have loved you much more than you know…and…still does, too. He closes his eyes, and I depart.
Returning to my apartments, I see Nakago standing at his curtained window, looking at me.
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