Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Set Adrift a Mem'ry ❯ Set Adrift a Mem'ry ( Chapter 1 )

Warnings/Disclaimer: A one-shot inspired from Cowboy Bebop quotes, with inapt angst and drama [at least that's what others tell me; oh well]. Some of the lines in the fic are puns from Evangelion, Silent Hill, Cowboy Bebop, Tori Amos and my own poems. Shounen-ai I guess; standard disclaimers apply. Some of the scenes can be alluded to my previous FY "Dark and Stark" fic. You may want to read it first, though this one can stand alone... oh well... on with the fic. BTW, mem'ry is memory (a pun I guess).

**********

On the moment of death, of birth and transcendence, nothing can so pierce the soul with the uttermost sigh of the body. And life is a dance; in the end, it's all about fitting the deathful tune in it.

**********

Set Adrift a Mem'ry

He thinks he knows. He doesn't think he knows. He doesn't think he think he knows. He doesn't think he thinks. This kind of consciousness kept reverberating on his mind like lingering wisdom on the precept of death, and in his solitude and lost hope he keeps reminding himself, dying is not breathing the last breath but just finding out if you are really alive.

With foliage beside the snowy plains somewhere outside Konan, dandelion breeze reminded him of the lavender-haired creature, the way nature molded beauty into something other than beauty and nature itself so as to contain it within those willow eyes, full of dreams to fulfill and reveries to realize; standing still Tamahome's eyes looked bleak at his sight, snow breezing and white flakes of coldness percolating not on his skin but on the sentiments within him instead. Somehow, at the back of his mind, the wind manifested warmth, but he was fully aware that it was the memories that kept him inviting all along, some distant echo of affinity that kept telling him that death transcends death itself, and no matter where entities go it'd boil down on the memory that kept it binding... stitching...

It has been months since Nuriko left Konan to meet Suzaku in the heavens, but it all seemed yesterday in Tamahome's desolation. "You're so distant, Nuriko, but you're too human," he whispered, holding back the tears that has been looming to flow. He alternatively sat beside Nuriko's grave, not daring to take his sight off of the snowy sanctuary. In Tamahome's solitude he kept on remembering why he was there sitting in the wintry plains; why it was sad to acknowledge Nuriko's death.

"What night, eh?"

"The moon... Nuriko, your garments are all and torn."

"That's what you get from thinking too much."

"The moon. It's crescent. Full crescent."

"Such a sight."

He could still remember the foliage escapades with seemingly dark and stark ambiance, but it was company and closeness, embellished on the countless stars - it was almost not friendship at all, but a love in its meaning between comrades. More than its mystery, coming before heaven, words go freely as each step towards the suicide of awkwardness. "Tama-chan, in mysteries of oddity, reason barters nothing but the fulfillment of our melancholy; that's why I recognize the emperor's contempt on my oddity. It just... unfolds like old stories, ne?"

As much as Tamahome wants to despise the idiotic veneration of the lavender-haired towards the selective attitude of the emperor, he is now aware why. Masquerade is a lovely revelry, and in all of these things they reside across the universe; and reverence is not selective in any way as it delves identity, and not bigoted acumen.

"It doesn't matter now, Nurkio, it's all the same now," he whispered as the skies shrouded in dark hues, warning the lad of the ominous and fierce rain, or snow perhaps. He didn't bother to stand nevertheless, and continued to stare at the pallid asylum of Nuriko as if he was staring at Suzaku's heaven itself.

Nuriko was sunshine on the leash yet darkness on the rise. It distresses Tamahome in ways unimaginable, yet it sparks gratification on his looked-in perspective, the way Nuriko would always tell him adrift and lingering prospects to send them beyond sadness and everything else. It was hard to deal with Miaka's childishness but Tamahome managed through, and their relationship is stronger than before; it was Nuriko who taught him that prospect, whose optimism towards life and the acceptance of death made Tamahome regard the lavender-haired in a higher regard.

"No... it's just that it pains me to see such a wonderful creature begging himself be thrown the mockeries of the world."

Nuriko was a beautiful creature to him and yet he wasn't able to tell him, the way his femininity stands strong in every musk in the world. "We, what have we got?" Tamahome whispered and asked at the same time. It pained Tamahome to see Nuriko be barged down with the ridicule of discriminating people. Positively, yet positively...

T'was the night in dark spaces and stark time. Tamahome was beside Nuriko as Miaka snore while sleeping. Night consumes moonbeams and it was just like the same instance they were in Konan long before the coffee-haired lass came back. "Look at me, Tamahome,"

Tamahome cringed. "I cut my hair because I know I've been double-dealing with reality,"

"I don't know what you mean,"

"I still don't know whether I love Hotohori or Miaka,"

"And I cut my hair because I thought I could only see patches of reality. My long hair reminds me of my oddity and familiarity at the same time, and maybe, just maybe, when I don't see my long hair I might shape another of me other than sadness,"

"Nuriko, I..."

"Take this. Souvenir."

"Are you kidding me?!"

Both chuckled.

"You're not perfect, Nuriko, but you have a lot to be worthwhile."

"Worthwhile, huh..."

"When beauty no longer stands the tests of time it becomes ugly,"

"So you say,"

"But you are,"

"When I won't come back after tomorrow, would you rescue me, Tama-chan?"

"Don't say silly things,"

"In this world there is nothing to believe in, Tamahome..."

Drops of water seemed oceans to Tamahome as it jab his back, his tresses wet but his sight still pasted on Nuriko's crypt. Rain started pouring some minutes ago but he stayed where he sat, snow barely melting against water, his muscles clenching at the taste of salty rain, or at least that's what he says to himself; not crying but tasting saline, knowing it's all too clear to see.

Miaka came out running towards Tamahome with a big umbrella of some sort, eyes full of concern with tears swelling at the corner of her eyes; she feels the same way Tamahome does, but it should not be an impediment to their goal. Nuriko's death wouldn't serve meaningful then.

As tears came into a halt Tamahome focused on Miaka's call and stood up from the slippery snow. The rain had stopped, too, and looking up, white clouds started to form as sunbeams peek nearby, glistening certain hues of red, yellow and blue. Tamahome closed his eyes as the sunlight soared on his body with Miaka's voice growing louder on his ears, remembering Nuriko and his sacrifice, his beauty and his depth he could only reminisce. Setting adrift the memory, he knows the lavender-haired's death is not breathing the last breath, but transcending life... and the refrain of the soul.

With a last glimpse on the sky, he wiped his eyes and walked towards Miaka.

"These tears are oceans Nuriko... I'll... I'll sail you home..."