Oktoberfest '07 Entry, Seasons by athena8

[athena8.livejournal.com]

Title: Seasons
Author: athena8
Word Count: 3,388
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kikyo, Kougaiji, Seishirou, Shion, Aya
Paring: KikyoAya
Summary: In this haunted land beyond death, Kikyo searches for the one thing that he wishes for, above all others.
Notes: This is a Kikyo-centric series of vignettes. They run in chronological order, though each scene does not necessarily take place immediately after the previous one. The Shion here is a figment of Kikyo's imagination. Inspiration for Kou, Seishirou and Aya taken from Piipa's Landel's muses. ♥



Seasons


He came for me, as I knew he would. I knew he would be the death of me. For no one else could take this life. It belongs to him, and him alone.

His eyes met mine through the pouring rain, bruised violets that said more words than his lips ever could. I bore my heart to him, like I would for no other.

"Here, take what is left of me. Even if it is just a cast away remnant of what you remember."

I know it is not enough. Nothing is ever enough. But maybe...just maybe, it will be, this time. I have nothing else to give. The sword was so cold as it pierced through my skin, into my flesh. I sensed no hesitation as it ran through my body with 'no mind.'

Oh...Shion, Shion-- look at what you've done to him. He has reached that plane you've always aspired to. One with the blade. Just him and the unyielding metal that grants no peace.

I reached for him with my dying fingers, clasping them around his wrist. Something flickered in his gaze.

Perhaps my own covetous eyes deceived me. But in the last moment of my life, I thought I saw the face of my eternal autumn.

My Ran...


- Ume -
Plum


He wakes in the night with no memories of his dream. Still, he can feel something tight in his chest like his body remembers, though his mind does not. It is a hollow aching just under the surface that he cannot see. So odd that he should feel this acutely, when it has been so long since anything has touched him at all.

Strange magic dwells in these walls, reaching deep into the chasm where his heart used to be. It should not matter, for he remembers each time he wakes that his life has already departed. Like an afterthought, his soul wanders these confines without purpose.

Waiting for the next thing to happen. He listens with a breathless pause, but nothing calls to him. Not yet...

With his fingers clasping tightly into the sheets, Kikyo rises to sit up in his bed. Darkness wraps around him like a tangible thing, cool and wispy against his skin. How many nights has he woken like this within these narrow walls? Days? Weeks? He barely knows. Time moves at a different pace in this dimension. He thinks that it flows differently for others than it does for himself. For some, every single moment is a small eternity, impatient hearts that long to return to their rightful homes. He has seen their faces everyday. He can recognize them from the restlessness that brews beneath their gaze. He hears them too, silent fingertips that tap unconsciously upon a table.

They have things to do and people to see. A world awaits just beyond these walls, calling them back with a silent cry.

Across the room, a muffled voice of a sleeping youth captures his attention. Kikyo turns toward the sound, calm amber eyes that seek out the reclining silhouette.

The boy calls for someone in his dreams.

A soft smile plays across Kikyo's lips, and for a brief time he forgets the dull ache that lingers still.

He rises to his feet, making his way to the bedside of his roommate to watch him. Wine red locks spread out over the pillow and across Kougaiji's face. His brows are furrowed unconsciously in his sleep, and yet he manages to look peaceful even so.

Kikyo only hesitates for a fleeting second before he reaches down and brushes aside the hair from his forehead.

"Nn..." Kougaiji mutters something incoherent, turning his face toward the touch. Kikyo's fingertips are cold against his skin. Long lashes flutter as the lids open just a crack.

"...Kikyo...?" he says in a sleep rough voice, disoriented.

"...forgive me, I didn't mean to wake you," Kikyo murmurs gently. His fingers are still in his hair, loath to part with the silken strands.

A pair of tired eyes peers up at him with curiosity that remains unvoiced. There is an odd kind of sadness in the way Kikyo touches him. It has always been this way. And sometimes, Kikyo looks at him like he is seeing someone else. Kougaiji has asked him many things before, but never about this.

"You were calling for someone in your sleep," Kikyo says.

"..wa...was I?"

"Yes..." The fingertips travel down Kougaiji's cheek, stopping there just over the bright mark upon his skin. "Who is she?"

"Eh...."

Kougaiji frowns in confusion, and Kikyo cannot help but chuckle softly.

"I am teasing, Kougaiji-kun," he says, letting his fingertips slip down to his chin, tilting it up just a little so the boy can see the amusement in his eyes.

"Hn!"

Kougaiji turns his face away, looking a bit put off. Maybe he is trying to hide a blush, though it is hard to tell in the dark. Kikyo withdraws his fingers, still gazing down at his roommate, though he can only see his hidden profile, now.

Sometimes, he thinks his roommate looks so young. Too young to be cooped up in a place like this, where the dead roam aimlessly, and hope is so easily forsaken. Every night, Kougaiji leaves the room in search of an exit. And every morning he returns with new injuries on his body and horrors of which he does not speak. Kikyo knows that tonight will be no different.

Kikyo parts his lips, the beginning of a thought on the tip of his tongue-- But before the words can break the silence he is interrupted by the intercom. That familiar, sinister voice mingles in with the sound of static.

Their keeper is bored this night. That is never a good sign.

Kougaiji grunts as he pulls himself up out of bed. He has work to do. His wounds cry out, begging for one day's pardon, but the prince is in no humor to indulge himself with rest. He has pushed himself further before. And his mind once made up, there is little that can stand in his way.

In silence Kikyo steps back to let him pass. He will not stop him. Each night he leaves, he thinks it might be the last. It is not because he thinks that Kougaiji will meet his end at the hands of the creatures lurking the halls. No...there is something far too resilient in the boy's eyes to succumb to such a fate.

A stubborn beauty that blooms in the height of winter.

"Kougaiji-kun."

The youth turns to glance at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. Kikyo sets his fingers upon Kougaiji's face softly.

"Stay safe.." he murmurs.


- Sakura -
Cherry Blossom

Even amongst the heartless, there are promises worth keeping. And so it was that he would make his way to their appointed spot, in what has become an almost nightly rendezvous. His feet pad softly through the empty corridors, practiced footsteps that seemed to have walked this path countless times before.

He pauses as he approaches the double doors, taking in a familiar outline of a tall figure waiting in the shadows.

"It seems there are some unexpected guests in the Sun Room tonight," Seishirou's voice purrs. Behind those closed doors, there is carnage unfolding, but the tall gentleman is unperturbed.

"Ah...that is unfortunate indeed. Shall we relocate then?" Kikyo answers, suppressing a yawn. He hasn't slept well for days.

With a slight nod, Seishirou leads them away. Seishirou walks with the idle stride of an unhurried man. They turn down a hall that leads to offices, relatively undisturbed tonight. The doors are locked, but not enchanted. Seishirou chooses a door and pulls out a fuda - a talisman of paper and ink. With a hushed murmur he casts his spell, and the lock yields to his magic.

"After you," he says with a polite smile.

"Thank you."

Kikyo enters the room, pausing for a moment before walking to the bookshelves that line the walls. His fingers run across the spines of the ancient looking tomes, dusty from disuse. There are various titles on the psyche, analyzing and reanalyzing the gaping mysteries of the human mind.

A waste of time, in Kikyo's opinion, but he would not criticize the pursuits of others, if it keeps their boredom at bay.

Someone screams in the distance, a blood curdling sound filled with pain and anguish. It seems that somewhere down the other corridor, a hapless victim has fallen prey to the creatures of the night. Seishirou closes the door.

"Oh...thank you again," Kikyo says, turning from the shelf and offering him a smile. "It is so hard to get a moment's peace in this place, do you not agree? So many people in the day time. You would hope that the night could offer a reprieve." He chuckles coldly. There's a wine bottle on one of the shelves, which he reaches for.

"Yes, I know exactly what you mean," Seishirou answers with sympathy as he pulls out a couple wine glasses from a nearby cupboard.

Neither could care less if someone was being gutted several meters away, so long as they could drink their wine in peace.

Kikyo finds a corkscrew conveniently set out beside the bottle, and he opens the wine to pour into the waiting glasses. Pinot noir, cultivated in the southern Burgundy region of France. At least somebody in this institution had taste.

The aroma is warm and intoxicating. Kikyo prefers red wine over white, for its optimal temperature is more to his liking. He hands the other glass to Seishirou as he murmurs, "Shall we toast to something?"

He is met with a slight chuckle, amiable but tinged with an edge. What do the dead toast to?

It was a twist of fate that the first person Kikyo ever met here was another wandering spirit who had failed at dying. Seishirou's scent is strangely addicting, like his dark magic that weaves illusions that are as beautiful as they are deadly. His fingers, like Kikyo's, taint all that they touch. Pure white turns to crimson with a smile upon his lips.

"To our sacred things, elusive though they may be," Seishirou says, raising his glass.

Kikyo's dark smile mirrors that of his companion's.

"To our sacred things," he says. He tips his glass against the other's with a subtle clink.


- Hinoki -
Cypress

A lone buzzing of locusts echoes through the thick and humid air, drowning out thoughts and anything else that dares to stir. This is the heat of Sendai in August, dense and palpable. Kikyo stands beside a tall tree, shaded from the midday sun. Even beneath his calloused fingers, the bark feels real to the touch. It's hard to believe this is just an illusion, a dreamscape he has experienced so many times before. But it is the first time he's dreamt of this place since dying.

He senses someone approaching from behind, and even before any words are exchanged, he knows who has come. He can smell that delicate scent of wood and citrus upon the man's skin. Perhaps some things will never change.

"Where was it that I first met you? Was it here, beneath this tree? After awhile, they all begin to look the same. But I do remember one thing...it was a cloudless day, just like this," Kikyo says without turning around.

The footsteps pause a few paces behind him.

"Isn't that why you dream of this one? Because it is the very same," Shion says. He is teasing.

A light smile is on Kikyo's lips as he turns to glance at him over his shoulder. Shion looks just like he remembers him - tall, regal and calm. Sometimes, he half expects him to appear haunted and disheveled, burnt and torn from the explosion that killed him. He never does. He always comes to him like this, immaculately clad in his kimono with hardly a hair misplaced upon his head.

"I was wondering when you would come. I was beginning to miss you," Kikyo says with a chuckle.

"Hn..." Shion snorts gently. Maybe he even wants to believe him. He sets his careful gaze upon Kikyo's face, wordlessly searching for something. He finally says after a meaningful pause, "Is it so hard for you there? You are not alone. I should think you would have discovered that already."

"Not alone?" Kikyo laughs mirthlessly, turning around completely to lean his back against the trunk. "Of course not. You are here to keep me company now." It makes total sense, in his head. His madness had trapped him here. His was a mindless soul that roved these haunted corridors in search of nothing. Too weak to hold on to life, and yet too greedy to yield to death. Why shouldn't he bide his time in his dreams, speaking to the ghosts of his past?

And of all the ghosts he could have chosen, he would always pick this one.

Shion.

There is a dark comfort he finds in his presence, even though this is the man he once despised so much.

"Kikyo.." Shion says with a frown. His voice would sound saddened, if only Kikyo thought to listen for it.

"And why should I believe you?" Kikyo answers, an acid smile upon his lips. "You took from me the only thing that mattered."

You changed him.

His teachings on compassion, vengeance, adoration, fear. All the things that spawned weakness...Shion would say they must all be cast aside. And for what? Would he dare to say that one could achieve enlightenment through murder? Kikyo knows well enough what is waiting at the tip of his sword. Thirst and addiction.

Shion watches him for a long minute with a furrow in his brow before he finally turns to take a few steps away. But he stops just outside the shadow of the tree, bathed in a halo of sunlight as he murmurs gently without looking at him-

"Do you really believe that...?"


- Momiji -
Red Maple

He staggers down the corridor, a bloodied hand leaving marks upon the walls. It is his blood, from a wound inflicted by a faceless creature with eyes that glowed an eerie green. Kikyo had left its carcass on the floor after he'd squeezed the life out of it. A minor impediment on his way back to his room.

He brings his hand down from the wall and clutches the gash on his arm, resting for a brief minute. His flashlight casts its beam upon the floor in a dim circle of light, while in the distance, light footsteps approach. They pause the instant they turn into the hallway where Kikyo stands leaning against the wall.

Kikyo thinks he hears a hollow suck of breath. He glances up and sees him through the strands of his raven hair, an outline forming behind the penumbra of his light.

"..."

They stand there in tense silence for several moments, neither seemingly willing to make the first move.

Finally, Kikyo sways unsteadily from the wall and takes a step toward him.

"Good evening, Ran-kun.." he purrs.

Aya's jaw sets tightly as Kikyo breaks the silence. Kikyo's eyes move over his form with deliberation. There are no more injuries upon this body than he saw the day before, as far as he could tell.

"How are you doing tonight?" he asks, since Aya does not answer his greeting. But this too, receives no answer. Just a cold gaze filled with unspoken anguish. Kikyo chuckles idly and reaches out to take him by the chin gently with his bloody fingers. "This must be the first time we've met here during the night...hm?"

With a growl, Aya grabs him by the wrist and slams him to the wall, pinning him there with a vice grip. The flashlight clatters loudly to the floor, sliding across it and coming to a halt when it hits the opposite wall. In its dim rays, Kikyo can see the dark menace in Aya's eyes, rage and heat.

"What do you want, Kikyo?" he hisses.

Kikyo answers him with a slow smile.

"Well what should I do, Ran-kun? Pass you by without a hello?" He begins to pull away from the grip, but Aya slams him back, the fingers leaving bruising marks upon his wrist.

"Fuck you! You know what I'm talking about!"

Kikyo grunts as his head hits the wall again. He gazes down at him, feeling the red heat of Aya's anger pass through to him from his fingertips.

"What is it you really wish to know, Ran-kun? Hmm?" he asks, narrowing his eyes while his smile turns colder. "Am I really dead? Is it really me? Shouldn't you know better than anyone else? You, who plunged your sword into me-"

"Shut up!!" Aya releases him suddenly, only to smack him hard across the face. Anything, anything to shut him up; from uttering any more words.

The force of the blow sends Kikyo flying to the ground. Aya is not through, yet. He reaches down and grabs him up by the hair, yanking his face toward him.

"I'll kill you again, if I have to!" he spits out. Lies. But maybe he can convince himself that it is true if he says it out loud.

Of course...'Aya' could take Kikyo's life, if he wished to. But Ran...can Ran do it? If there is any of him left inside this empty shell, Kikyo would find him.

"Yes..." Kikyo purrs, undeterred by the forceful pull on his hair nor by the stinging pain on his cheek. He grabs the hand from his hair, rising to his feet. He presses close fast and dark, and this time he is the one who has Aya to the wall. He leans in and hisses against his cheek-

"Then do it! Kill me so I might never come back. Or I shall follow your every footstep!"

"No!" Aya struggles in his grip, breathing erratically. He can smell the stench of blood and sex reeking from Kikyo's body. Who has he been with this night? And who has he killed? So many things he doesn't know about him, and might never know. Though of all the things kept secret from him, there is one that he has ached to know above all others. "Why...why did you do it?" he gasps out, unintentionally voicing the burning question that has haunted him every day since then.

Kikyo laughs, a chilling sound that is far beyond the brink of sanity.

"Because..." he utters, lips hovering just above Aya's. "...you were going to betray me. You were going to leave me."

Possessive...obsessive. Those were the reasons why. He knew from the very beginning that Ran would depart before long. He had things to do, an objective to fulfill. He could not linger in Sendai...not even for him.

Shion would teach him what he needed to know. Skills and state of mind to do what he needed to do. Every passing day, Ran was slipping through Kikyo's fingers.

I will not let them have him.

Not Shion, and certainly not the nameless shadow of a man who took Ran's family from him. If Ran was going to leave him, then he'd kill him so that no one else could have him.

Only...he couldn't. In the end, he had spared him, unable to take the life of the one person he loved most in the world.

"You belong to me," Kikyo purrs darkly. His fingers curl tightly around Aya's wrists as he kisses him feverishly with all the intensity of his words. These are lips that have longed for years to touch him again, and they do not let go. Not even when Aya's teeth sink in and flood his senses with the sickening taste of his own blood.

It doesn’t matter that Aya could kill him. Even if he did it because someone else told him to; because it was his job. Kikyo's life is smeared upon Aya's hands, a vibrant red that will never fade. If Aya....Ran does not see, then he will make him see.

For even now, in this cursed nightmare beyond death, it is 'Ran' he is embracing. And Ran holds his beating heart in his hand, as he always has.


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