Illusions Morning sunlight slanted into the room, waking Watari. He blinked lazily and brushed hair away from his face, brown hair, he noted bemusedly - then smiled to himself.
Ah, yes, he was in Oriya's bed. Spooned around Oriya, in fact, and warm and comfortable. Very comfortable.
The swordsman was still sound asleep, his breathing slow and almost silent. Watari carefully brushed his hair back to trail on the pillow, and Oriya shifted, turning over and cuddling into his bedmate with a soft sigh. The scientist rested his cheek against the top of his companion's head, arms instinctively enfolding the muscular body.
It had been so long.He and Paul had been together for two years, three months and thirteen days. Oh, there'd been the occasional squabble, of course there had, they were both only human. But in the main they'd been happy - blissfully happy, on Watari's part. Everything had changed: his work, far from suffering, had actually improved, and with the confidence that had come from loving and being loved he'd grown from slightly gawky, awkward child into a graceful, popular youth. Paul was proud of him, so proud.
So he'd expected to accompany Paul when he returned to England for a visit.
But Paul had refused. Watari had been at first confused, then upset, then angry when Paul wouldn't tell him why. Their last evening together had been a shouting match of epic proportions, at the end of which Watari had grabbed his coat and stormed out, only returning after he knew Paul would have left. As he let himself into the empty apartment he was already regretting his behaviour, and rang the London office to leave a message - just a little 'Watari apologises' note that Paul would read and understand when he arrived - then spent a miserable sleepless night curled around Paul's pillow.
Two frantic days later papa-san rang to tell him Paul's flight had crashed with no survivors - and that mama-san was ready to forgive him if he wanted to come home…
Home? THIS was home, the apartment he shared with Paul… Only it wasn't any more, was it? The heart was gone.
He cried for three days, almost without pause, wanting the world to stop, wanting to turn back time, beg forgiveness, make Paul not have boarded the plane… At the end, cried out, desperately exhausted, he'd slept for nineteen hours, waking into a cold autumn morning, the sunlight sharp and crisp outside.
He'd walked, and walked, aimlessly, feeling empty, finally ending up at Nanzen-ji. It was - had been - one of Paul's favourite places. Gazing at the carefully raked gravel, Watari swiped at the gathering tears, forcing himself to think.
What would Paul have wanted him to do?
Paul would have wanted him to continue with his studies. Paul was - had been - proud of him.
The fact that Paul wasn't there any more shouldn't stop him.
He would - somehow - keep the apartment. It was still home, that wouldn't change.
He swallowed, then tried to smile.
It was what Paul would have wanted.A week after the crash he'd discovered that Paul had named him the sole beneficiary of his will. It wasn't a huge amount, but it was enough to relieve him of any financial worries for the next eight years or so. He'd fixed a smile on his face, and worked himself hard, achieving his degree and being accepted for a Masters course. He'd had plenty of friends, but no real lovers - just the occasional one-night stand, when he couldn't bear the loneliness any more: there were plenty of pretty young things eager to spend the night in his bed, in his arms, in him.
Three years later, with the future opening out before him, he was dead.He blinked, feeling a warm finger on his cheek, and turned to see Oriya frowning at him.
"Why are you crying?"
Watari touched a hand to his own face, surprised to feel wetness. He sighed, then smiled.
"'s nowt to worry about, Oriya-kun. Jus'… old memories."
The swordsman narrowed his eyes - then abruptly pulled Watari to him, holding him tightly.
"I'm sorry."
Watari managed a shaky laugh.
"T'ain't your fawlt! 'm OK. Honest."
Oriya pulled back a little, gazing into shimmering eyes, then nodded. Watari didn't want to talk about it. Fine - Oriya knew how that felt. But it wouldn't do for his guest to be unhappy: he needed a distraction.
"Would you like coffee, Yutaka-kun?"
"Mm. Be nice…"
"I'll get it. Like to shower while I'm gone?"
Watari nodded, grinning.
"Please!"The water was hot, Oriya's choice of toiletries expensive and discreetly perfumed, dark masculine scents, herby and woody. As he washed, Watari frowned to himself, curiosity aroused by the scars he'd half-glimpsed on Oriya's back, under his hair, wondering if he could ask how they'd been acquired.
Heh, not without being nosy! And while his fellow shinigami were used to his insatiable curiosity, it wasn't really tactful in these circumstances.
Perhaps Oriya-kun would volunteer the information.
And pigs might fly.
He shied away from further thought, concentrating on his hair…Oriya had returned by the time he'd finished, a tray with two large mugs of coffee and a plate of American cookies on the floor beside the bed. Watari's clothes were on a hanger on the front of the cupboard: he glanced at his host enquiringly.
"I had them cleaned for you. You don't mind?"
"Na, course not! Ta." Betowelled, he seated himself on the futon and took a hearty slurp of coffee. "Mm. S'good."
Oriya stroked a stray strand of damp hair back from his face.
"What would you like to do today?"
Watari considered the question as he helped himself to a cookie, absently dunking it in his coffee, missing Oriya's raised eyebrow and quizzical look as he gazed into the distance.
"What Ay'd like… what Ay'd like most 'f all would be t'walk. See the city again. Bin a while since Ay was here not on work."
"OK - we'll do that." Oriya finished his coffee and rose to his feet, the yukata he'd thrown on sliding off his shoulders. Watari watched as he reached inside and to one side of the clothes cupboard, twisting sideways for a moment then pulling back out with… something… in his hands… The scientist frowned, then grinned broadly as Oriya slid into close-fitting black leather trousers and a baggy black sweatshirt.
"What, no kimono?"
The swordsman smiled ferally. Watari gaped as his companion's cultured accent abruptly dropped away.
"There're times Ay dun wan' t'be recognised. Mibu Oriya always wears kimono. So Ay can't possibly be Mibu Oriya, c'n Ay?"
Watari blinked, then laughed delightedly.
"You'm clever!"
Oriya flashed him a wicked smile, hands reaching behind himself to plait the long fall of heavy brown hair.
"Ta. Yew goin' t'get dressed?"
Ten minutes later the pair snuck discreetly out of the garden and onto the streets of Kyoto…It had been a magical day, if a tiring one. Good tiring though, thought Watari, healthy, physically tiring, not the awful dragging tiredness he'd been feeling just recently. They'd gone first to Nijo-jo, walking to Mibu-dera, where Oriya had paused for a moment in what Watari assumed was prayer. On their way across town to Ryoan-ji, the scientist had asked his companion if there was a connection between his family and the temple. Oriya had shrugged.
"Dun' know. Prob'ly."
"Yew never found out?"
Oriya had lowered his head.
"Na."
Watari frowned. He'd already gathered Oriya wasn't happy with his position as owner of KoKakuRou: was he also - ashamed of his family? There'd been a temple on the site for well over a thousand years. If Oriya's lineage stretched back even half that far… wasn't that something to be proud of?
But Oriya had changed the subject…
At Ryoan-ji they'd stood for a while, ignoring the tourists - and the admiring or lecherous glances in their direction - then meandered leisurely back to the centre, diving into Obanzai for obanzai for lunch, comparing Ryoan-ji and Nanzen-ji over steaming bowls of fresh vegetables.
"Na. Ryoan-ji, def'nitely."
Watari leaned forwards, elbow on the table and chin propped in his hand. There was something mesmerising about an Oriya out of his usual severely self-controlled, serene persona, a hint of what he could have been had things been different, and the scientist was thoroughly enjoying himself. So, it appeared, was Oriya. Watari mock-frowned.
"Dun' unnerstand, Oriya-kun. Wha's the diff'rence?"
"Ryoan-ji's more… serene… than Nanzen-ji… simpler… less… complex…" He lowered his eyes, a hint of resignation passing over his face, and Watari frowned, reaching for his hand.
"'m sorry. Didn' mean t'upset yew."
Oriya curled his fingers briefly around the slim palm, then smiled sadly.
"s'not yer fawlt, Yutaka-kun." He paused, then inclined his head, gazing frankly at the shinigami, his voice very low. "That simplicity reminds me of everything my life has not been - and that I wish it could be."
Watari inclined his head.
"'m sorry. C'n Ay help?"
Oriya's fingertips moved over the skin of his hand, minutely stroking.
"You do, Yutaka-kun. By being here." He sighed, then forced a small smile. "Shall us be away?"The rest of the day had been spent walking, lightly talking, seeing the city through each other's eyes - learning about each other. And now they sat in Oriya's garden, drinking beer and enjoying the seclusion and tranquillity. Watari sighed and turned to his pensive companion.
"Thank yew."
Oriya eyed him for a moment, then shifted closer, sliding an arm around his shoulders.
"I've enjoyed today."
"'m glad."
A small silence, then Oriya reluctantly pulled away.
"I need to get ready for tonight."
Watari nodded understandingly. The swordsman smiled.
"Join me for dinner? I won't ask you to wear a kimono."
The scientist laughed.
"Heh, Ay dun' mind. 'f yew'd like me to…?"There was an unspoken tension in the place tonight. Several of the KoKakuRou's clients had become a little - unruly, as Oriya would later phrase it, and he'd needed all his diplomatic skills and the judicious use of strongarm tactics to defuse the situation. He'd finally walked slowly back into his rooms at three in the morning, entering and slumping on the futon where Watari had been engrossed in a modern paperback. The shinigami had taken one look at his host and dropped the book, shifting forwards onto his knees to pull Oriya into a hug.
"Y'OK? C'n I help?"
Oriya tried to resist, tried to pull back, tried… he dealt with things himself. Had to. Sometimes it felt like he'd always had to. It was safer that way.
But… Watari wouldn't let him go. Encircled by sunshine, Oriya let his head drop onto a slim shoulder, eyes closed to tiny slits so all he could see was the lamplight shimmering through golden hair.
"… sorry…"
A tightening of slim strong arms around his shoulders.
"Oriya-kun… Yew don't have t'be alone, yew know."
Watari could hardly hear the whispered reply.
"I always have been…"
… it hurt… Watari tightened his grip.
"Oriya…"
There was an edge of desperation in the swordsman's muffled voice.
"Why? Why do you care?"
Watari laid his cheek against Oriya's hair, one hand stroking small circles on his back.
"Maybe 'cause Ay knows what's like to be completely alone. Dun' want yew to know how that feels."
Oriya tensed in his arms, his reply hissed.
"Baka. I already do."
Watari kissed his forehead.
"Na, Oriya - yew dun't."
For an instant the swordsman was tempted to shove the scientist away - but something, in his voice, in the… protective way he held his arms around the pathetic, worthless thing within them…
Oriya couldn't remember the last time he'd been held, and cherished, and accepted, for himself. Not for what he could do, or the services he could provide, but for simply being Oriya.
A bizarre mix of grief and relief overwhelmed him. Somewhere in the emotional storm within him a cold white figure smiled coldly, contemptuously for a moment, but only for a moment as warmth and kindliness and trust and a simple wholesome affection swept him up and held him safe.It took a dead man to make him feel this way.
Perhaps he should also be dead.
© 2004 April 4th Joules Taylor
Useless fact number… um…. : the cemetery in which Oriya meets Muraki (in both anime and manga) is Adashino Nenbutsu-ji, in the Sagano district of Kyoto. Apparently Adashino means 'Place of Sadness': the bodies of those dying without friends or relatives were left here unburied up until the ninth century. The Sento Kuyo ('thousand lights') ritual is held here 23rd-24th August, when candles are lit and placed on the small buddha statues that fill the site (over 8,000 of them, each representing an unknown death) to pray for the ease of the souls of the dead.
Oriyal Tales
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