TITLE: Sakuran
CHAPTER: Prologue
AUTHOR: Shiraume
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: The entire antire anime season and manga storyline up to volume 9.
WARNINGS: Not even going to bother with shounen ai warning. Possible squick pairing - you've been warned. Set after anime episode 13, the middle of manga volume 9. Hisoka-centric-ish.
PAIRING: Muraki + Hisoka. No, really.
DISCLAIMER: Nothing is mine, except the insanity.

SAKURAN

by Shiraume

"Sakuran" means falling sakura.

PROLOGUE

Ivory skin, gem-like eyes
That night...
You were as beautiful as a blossoming sakura
...in the darkness...

- Muraki Kazutaka, from "King of Sword," Yami no Matsuei by Matsushita Yoko



Sakura petals fell in an endless rain, swirling in the light breeze, filling the air with cloyingly sweet smell. Many would have found the sight breathtaking.

Kurosaki Hisoka detested it.

Too many memories...

A drop of moisture landed on his upturned face, and Hisoka blinked. Wonderful, the boy thought sarcastically, it's raining. The green-eyed shinigami quickened his pace, heading to the nearest building. As luck would have it, the said nearest building, the kenjutsu dojo, was still at least ten minutes away, and by the time Hisoka arrived, he was drenched.

It was too early to be in the office, and he needed to dry his clothes before he got sick. Okay, he wasn't very likely to die of pneumonia, but it would be decidedly unpleasant if he got sick. So the young shinigami went into the dojo, and quickly changed into his training outfit. After leaving his clothes to dry, he settled for a morning practice. He sat down on the wooden floor quietly, clearing his mind and centering himself like he had been taught. Try as he might, however, his thoughts refused to settle; the recent Kyoto incident lay heavily in his mind. Oriya's words had left few unresolved questions that just would not leave him alone.

Hisoka, what do you fight for?

By that, Hisoka knew Oriya meant, "Why do you fight Muraki?" Hisoka had never questioned his reasons for hating Muraki. But was this a fight he could ever win?

You cannot win against Muraki with hate...he hates and curses the entire world.

Hisoka picked up his bokken, savagely putting himself into stance. Maybe if he concentrated, he could block out the words that stirred anger and hopelessness inside him. Maybe he could stop feeling his helpless defeat he had yet to admit.

You cannot win with hatred alone.

The wooden blade whistled and cut across the air as the youth forcefully brought it down with enough force to crack the wooden floor, had it actually touched the surface. Oriya's calm voice floated back to him endlessly, deafening in its quietness, maddening in its serenity. His hand clenched white on the bokken handle, Hisoka fought against the rising anger. It was then something on the floor caught his attention.

Sakura petals.

The bokken slammed into the floor with bruising force, and his hands ached from the impact, but Hisoka was already beyond care.

"WHAT CAN I DO BUT HATE?! AFTER BEING KILLED BY HIM, WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?!!"

Only silence answered his question, wrenched from the depth of his heart. Prostrate on the wooden floor, Hisoka screamed.

Hisoka...I want you to know...that I did not love a criminal.

His desperate screams did nothing, just like that fateful night, five years ago, when he first met Muraki.

...I...

His hands clamped over his ears so tightly that it hurt, but it still did not drown out Tsubaki-hime's voice.

...I...loved a human being.

Hisoka's throat felt raw and hoarse, worn out from the screaming. He knelt on the floor, with neither the will nor the strength to pick himself up. Long, uncounted minutes passed as he stayed like that, numb from inside out, too tired to care.

I wish...

"...I wish that monster had never been born."

Is that what you really wish...?

The clear voice jolted him out of his numb, blank state, and Hisoka sat up. For a second there, he could have sworn that he heard Tsubaki-hime. The young shinigami shook his head. It was ridiculous. Tsubaki-hime was dead; he had shot her through the heart himself.

Mechanically, Hisoka picked himself up and left for the office. He spent the entire day in numb apathy, too numb to even notice the painfully forced cheer on Tsuzuki's part.

That evening, tired beyond sleep, Hisoka collapsed onto his bed. That night, stirring in restless sleep, he found himself in his most persistent nightmare.

The falling sakura...

...sakuran...

...and Muraki.

END PROLOGUE

A/N:

This fic started with the assumption that the reader will be familiar with YnM anime or manga. Please let me know if I confused anyone at any point. Also, if you see a canon misunderstanding or mistake on my part, please, tell me!

1. The overall scene was taken almost directly from the volume 9 of Yami manga, except it wasn't raining that day. ^^; And I do not know whether the place was a dojo or a gym, or whatever. In anime timeline, this is after episode 13, the conclusion of Kyoto incident.

2. In the real manga timeline, after Hisoka has his scream, Konoe-kachou comes in. My story deviates from the manga starting at that moment, just after Hisoka screams.

3. I have a different language version of Yami manga (not Japanese or English). I translated the quotes I used in this fanfiction myself, directly from my books. Please do not be offended if my quotations differ from what Theria.net gives.

4. I mostly followed the anime timeline since I adore the anime version of Yami, except when manga explanation was necessary. In the case of a manga-anime discrepancy, I went with the manga, as I interpret the manga to be closer to the original creator's intent.

5. Ani-BEE was kind enough to help me with identifying Hisoka's wooden practice sword: it was a bokken. Thank you for your help, Ani-BEE!