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Kanaete

A CCS fanfic by Sakura

Standard disclaimers apply.

 

For Belle-oneesama (for the encouragement), and for Wen (for that adorable Eriol plushie), with heartfelt thanks. *glomp*

‘Aoi Kioku’ (sung by Mizuki Kaho [Shinohara Emi], from the CCS Character Songbook) snippet romanization/translation mine. 

All comments and corrections welcome.

Full author’s notes at the end.

 

Tweaked slightly 2004.12.09.

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            Thee like the classic quality of a star :

            A little way from warmth, a little sad,

            Delicately lovely to adore---

            I had been brightly ready to believe.

            For youth is a frail thing, not unafraid.

            Firstly inclined to take what it is told.

            Firstly inclined to learn.  Greedy to give

            Faith tidy and total.  To a total God.

            With billowing heartiness no whit withheld.

           

- Gwendolyn Brooks

  ‘firstly inclined to take what it is told’

 

 

 

            Her hand gracefully glided on paper, writing his name down in small careful strokes. 

 

            Eriol.                

 

            He never thought much of his name.  No, he didn’t hate it --- in fact, he thought it suited him --- but if the choice had been his, he would have gladly chosen something else.  Something less strange.  Something harmless.  Harry, perhaps, or John.  Or Matthew.  But not Eriol.  It was instantly peculiar, eliciting blank stares or incredulous looks; easily mispronounced, misspelled by some deaf clerk or clumsy hand --- Errol, Ereol, Iriol.  (And then he would raise a pale hand and quietly point out the blunder with the stiffest of smiles.)

 

“Funny name you got there,” said one of the first few people he met at school.  “But I think that’s great, being the only one in the world with that sort of name.”  (The boy’s name turned out to be Paul.)

 

He was Eriol and Eriol was he alone.  The thought offered no comfort.  He preferred something that would make him familiar, something that wouldn’t cause bewilderment or provoke any snickering behind his back.

 

“I remember your mother being quite stubborn about it,” mused his father, when Eriol once mustered the courage to ask.  “We went to view a couple of Van Goghs a week before you were due.  She took one look at that painting with the sea and all the stars, quiet for around fifteen minutes, then she said it.  Eriol.  I didn’t hear her right; I was busy looking at the sunflowers so I said, what?  She said it again, Eriol, and she had that beautiful smile on her face, as if she had finally found the answer to the most important question in the whole world---”

 

The name revealed itself slowly, character by character, on the small sheet of vellum.

           

He stared at it.

           

The famous query rang in his head, unbidden --- what’s in a name?  He frowned and mentally replied --- nothing.  Nothing at all.  It was only his mother who saw something in it; only she found whatever beauty lay in its strangeness  --- traces of a brilliant starry sky perhaps, or even a pale slip of a moon.  And now that she was gone, he would never find out.

 

            The nib of the pen finally lifted off the paper.  “You write your name this way in English, right?”

 

He nodded, straightening in his seat. 

 

Her hand moved a little to the right and started scribbling what looked like a group of stiff, even-angled segments.  “And this is how you write your name in Japanese.”

 

            He peered down at the vellum.  “Is that really my name?”

 

            She smiled, clearly relieved at hearing him speak.  They had been sitting at the quiet kitchen table for three days now, and he had spoken only once, twice.  Only nodded slightly.  Only smiled politely.  Only crossed his hands in his lap and stared at her with somber dark blue eyes.   

 

Her pen tapped against the vellum.  “This reads E-RI-O-RU.  It is written in katakana which, if you remember---”

 

            He nodded.  “---is usually used for borrowed words and foreigner’s names.”

 

            “Right.”  Her smile widened.  “And this one---” she quickly scribbled two characters beside it, “is your myouji.  Your family name.”

 

            The wire rims slid down the bridge of his nose as he leaned forward to stare at it.  “Does that read HI-I-RA-GI-ZA-WA too?”

 

            “No, it’s a combination of ‘hiiragi’ and ‘sawa’.”  She pointed at the first character.  “This one means holly tree, and this one means swamp.  So putting them together, you have ‘hiiragizawa’ --- literally, ‘a swamp of holly trees’.”  Noticing the slight confusion in his eyes, she decided to backtrack.  “You see, most Japanese names have kanji.  Chinese characters.  And since you’re Japanese yourself, you have a myouji that can be written in---” 

 

            “A swamp of holly trees?” He suddenly said aloud, perplexed at the thought.  “Is that possible?”

 

            She stopped in mid-sentence, surprised that he had been thinking about something else entirely.  The child’s line of thought was so

unpredictable, it baffled her.  “Well.  I’m not really sure if holly can grow in swamps or not, but…”

 

            “I’m pretty sure it can’t.”  He sounded disturbed, even distressed.

 

            “Well.”  She sighed, twirling the pen around with restless fingers.  “Well, it probably is impossible, but you see, it doesn’t have to make perfect sense all the time.”

 

            He stared at her.  “Why doesn’t it have to make sense?”

 

            “It does have to make sense.  But not always.  Sometimes it doesn’t really matter.”

 

            “Sometimes.”

 

            “Yes, sometimes.”

 

            His dark blue eyes regarded her for a moment before trailing back to the paper.  “My name is meaningless, then?”

 

            “Of course not,” she hastily said, fearing that she might have offended him, “it means something.  Well, I think it makes perfect sense, that swamp of holly trees.  If ever there were one, I think it’d be a wonderful sight.”

 

Clearly unconvinced, he leaned back in his chair and mulled over that thought.  Through the half-open window drifted in a cold draft and a bird’s song, filling in the spaces that their uneasy silence left between them --- university student moonlighting as Japanese teacher, pale dark-haired boy staring into space.  The lukewarm tea that sat at his elbow lay untouched.  She picked up her own cup to take a sip, thought better of it, set it back down.  “You know what I see?  I see a huge deep forest with dark, almost black water.  Above it a moon shines in the sky, and in the pale light you can see red berries on the trees --- thousands and millions of them --- twinkling like stars.  There are stars in the sky, yes, but the berries shine brighter, like brilliant rubies.”  She smiled.  “That’s what your name means to me.  Hiiragizawa Eriol.  You may think it doesn’t mean anything, but I think it’s beautiful.”   

 

            Then she waited for his response.  There was a pause as that dark, piercing gaze fell from some point in the air and fixed on her face, and for a panicked moment she wondered if she had been too hasty to appease him, if her English was too strange (she had never attempted at being poetic in English before), if he was going to say something that would take her hours to think of a comeback to --- this strange brilliant quiet child with the wire-rims and the eyes that seemed to read and see through everything.  But what silly, unfounded fears they were!  He was only a child, after all, waiting for that bit of reassurance to set his mind at ease.

 

            Her words had delivered and he, in turn, did the unexpected.

 

He smiled.

 

 

 

 

Chapter III :  Aoi Kioku  (Memories in Blue)

 

           

 

 

            “Excuse me,” laughed Hiiragizawa Kouji, the pale dark-haired, dark-eyed man seated at the desk with a thick book in his lap, “I haven’t spoken to anyone in Japanese for a while so forgive my terrible grammar---”

 

            “Oh no,” Mizuki Kaho chuckled in turn, “you’re doing quite well, sir.”

 

            He laughed again, shaking his head as if to clear it.  She had just recounted her adventure the other day --- six months in England and she still found herself lost on the way home; at one point accidentally slipping in the smallest of ditches at the side of what seemed like a lonely country road with only a farmer and his cow to help her out.  It wasn’t that that made him laugh so much, though --- at one point he meant to ask her if the farmer let her ride the cow but instead blurted out something like ‘did the farmer let the cow ride on you?’.  When she politely pointed out his mistake, he suddenly burst into gales of hearty laughter that probably made all the professors in the hall snap their heads up from their books in irritation. 

 

He closed the book and laid it on top of his desk.  “It’s this bloody university, you see.  It has to be English all the time --- well, there’s the occasional bit of Spanish or French, but it’s still primarily English.  There used to be another Japanese professor two floors below, he taught metaphysics; he couldn’t remember most of his verbs and had to bang on my door every so often to check with me --- ‘Korosu?  Did I get that right, korosu?’  It was crazy.”  Then he laughed again.

 

She decided that she liked him merry like this --- he seemed much kinder, softer, so unlike the sober bespectacled man who stood at the podium and terrorized the class by making them solve the most complex of equations in the shortest span of time. 

 

“So how do you find this school?”  He leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands together to form some sort of church steeple.  “Is everything going smoothly for you?  Are you having any problems at all?”

 

“Everything’s all right, sir.”   

 

“Well said,” he beamed.  “Always way ahead of your classmates.  Will it be too much to assume that you like the subject?”

 

“This will sound rather patronizing,” she confessed, “but nobody made it this interesting for me before.”

 

He laughed once more.  “Good, good.  I appear to please only one student at a time, but that’s better than nothing.”  Then he suddenly started leafing through the jumbled stack of papers to his left.  “Now let’s see if I can find your exam in this mess---”

 

“Actually, sir, I was wondering…” 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I was wondering if you could do a favor for me.”

           

He smiled.  “Oh.  Well, I don’t mind.  If you’re in need of someone to confide in, I might help you out with those hordes of lovestruck men that have been shadowing you for the past few weeks---”

 

            She promptly flushed.  “N-No, sir, it doesn’t have anything to do with that.” 

 

“Oh.”  His dark eyes twinkled impishly.  “What a shame.”

 

“I was wondering if you could sign a recommendation letter for a job.”

 

            “Of course, it’d be my pleasure.”  Then, more curiously, “And what job might that be?”

 

            “A teaching job.  It’s not very far, only ten minutes by subway.”

 

            Outside the window of his small office, the heavy gray veil of dusk had fallen.  She knew she had to get up and find her way home before the darkness deepened, but it felt comfortable sitting in the professor’s cramped office with its books and stacks of paper, the slightly ratty blue couch and the hot tea in styrofoam cups.

 

            “I see.”  His hand had found her exam somewhere in the stack and was pulling it from underneath the other papers.  “I used to do the same thing myself, when I was still studying.  I taught a pair of twins and their tabby cat arithmetic and a bit of logic.”

 

            “I used to teach children myself,” she responded eagerly, “back at home.  A fourth-grade Math class.”

 

            “Really?  It must’ve been hard for you.”  He shook his head.  “Those two twins I taught were a handful.  Always sneaking out of the window to play.  Their tabby cat ended up knowing more about dividing fractions than they did.”

 

            “Oh, but the children I taught were very well-behaved.”  Her eyes softened.  “They were such good children.”

 

            Shrugging, he handed over her exam.  “Personally, I’d rather handle a college class.  At least there I can count on nobody climbing out the window…  Which reminds me, what will you be teaching this time?”

 

            “They’re looking for someone who can teach basic Japanese.”

 

            “Japanese?”  He stared at her.  “For how long?  And for how much?”

 

            “It’s four times a week, and rates are negotiable, I think.”  She blinked.  “Sensei!  You’re not considering that job yourself, are you?”

 

            “Good heavens, no,” he grinned back, “although that would be a novel idea.  I’d make the perfect teacher --- ‘Did the farmer let the cow ride on you’?  My students would probably run out of the classroom screaming.”

 

            They laughed. 

 

            “Actually,” he began when they had sobered, “I have a son.  Always has his head stuck in a book, even at the dinner table.  A brilliant boy, straight A’s, never gets into trouble.”  His dark eyes took on a faraway look.  “He’s rather quiet for a child, and I’ve been worrying about him lately…”   

 

            “Does he have any friends?” she found herself asking in spite of herself.

 

            “None that I know of,” he replied, starting to fiddle absently with the dangling edge of a test paper.  “I brought him to the park once and told him to join a ball game; he walked up to a group of boys but didn’t say anything.  Just sat there on the grass and watched them play.”

 

            An image of a lone boy sitting on a grassy knoll flashed in her mind.  “He must be terribly lonely.”

 

            “Maybe.”  The professor’s face suddenly changed.  “I was wondering if I could find another diversion for him.  He has piano lessons once a week --- which is fine, but I was thinking about something else that would help him open up to people.  Something that would help him talk more.”

 

            “Hmm.”  She shifted in her seat.  “He should probably join a club at school, or maybe play a sport…”

 

            He watched her.  “Or learn another language, perhaps?”

 

            “Yes, that would do just as well, I think.”

 

            “I was thinking about Japanese lessons, but I couldn’t find a teacher…”  Then he coughed meaningfully and it was only then that she realized what he meant to say.  “M-Me?  But sir, I---”

 

 “I probably won’t be able to offer you much compared to that job you’ve been considering, but I don’t live far from campus so you won’t have to take the subway, your hours will be flexible, and,” he paused dramatically, “you can have all the tea and biscuits you want.  My son makes a scrumptious pie every once in a while.  He won’t be a fuss either; all his teachers say he’s exceptional.”

 

            She stared down at her cup before looking up at him with a smile.  “Well.  I certainly wouldn’t mind teaching him, and I’d love to sample a bit of that pie you mentioned---”

 

            “A good deal, isn’t it?”  He leaned back in his chair, looking pleased with himself.

 

“---But I’m not sure if I could do it well.”

 

            “Of course you can,” he said.  “I’d do it myself if I could, but you know how terrible I am.”

 

            “Well.”  A slow, shy smile spread across her face.  “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to give it a try.”

 

            “I’ll be counting on you, Mizuki Kaho-kun.”          

 

            “I’ll do my best, sir.”

 

 

***

 

 

            “Eriol!” she called, gingerly stepping around the brilliant profusion of zinnias and hollyhocks, peering around the garden for signs of the pale boy.  At the back of the house was a wide, grassy lawn, with rich cornucopias of flower and weed growing in the midst of tall, leafy poplars.  Flat gray stepping-stones, faintly visible underneath the carpet of grass and weeds, sparkled with dew in the sunlight.  Kaho stood on one and looked about her for traces of her student.  “Eriol!  Where are you?” 

 

The garden was quiet, save for the occasional bird song and cricket chirp and the faint rustle of leaves every time a gentle breeze blew.  Kaho decided that she liked this rather unkempt back garden, thinking that it suited the sleepy Hiiragizawa mansion --- and the people that lived in it --- perfectly.  She could imagine both son and father with their pale skin, dark hair and piercing blue eyes, standing sun-dappled under the poplars and staring up at the sky. 

 

No.  Maybe the father would stoop to pluck a weed or two at his feet and twirl it absently between his fingers, but the son?  The son would not look down.  He would not bend; he would probably stand straight, hands clutched lightly behind his back, studying the sky with deep fascination.  Dark blue eyes tracing every bit of cloud and change in hue.  (The sky is full of animals, he would probably announce over tea afterwards, I saw a giraffe and five elephants and even a dragon chasing a horse.) 

 

Kaho smiled, shook her head, and decided to move on. 

 

Not far off stood an old rusted swing set with chipping white paint, half-covered with a trailing vine of velvet and white flowers.  She stared at it, wondering if Eriol had played in it when he was young…  Younger, she mentally corrected herself, making her way through the maze of grass and tree roots, calling out her student’s name once more.  “Eriol!  It’s time for our lesson!” 

 

The first time she met him, he only managed a small, wan smile, politely refused to shake her hand and bowed deeply instead.  He rarely spoke during lessons and just shook his head whenever she asked him if he had any questions.  And he watched her closely, followed her every move, read her every gesture…  It was unnerving.  Two hours of silence.  An unwavering dark blue gaze.  It was enough to drive her crazy.  She thought about going to the professor and telling him that she wanted to quit, but for fear that he might take offense (after all, it had only been days since they had started), she decided to summon all her courage to go on with the lessons, forcing herself to smile and fill his empty silence with her bright chatter --- Eriol, what’s ‘sky’ in Japanese?  Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already!  Come on, think, think!

 

Her perseverance finally paid off.

 

Slowly, he began to drop his quiet, somber façade, revealing bits and pieces of himself that she never knew existed.  Weeks earlier she wouldn’t have imagined him doing this --- trotting to and fro with the teapot and offering to refill her cup every five seconds, sneaking biscuits off her plate, bombarding her with silly questions, fidgeting in his chair, drawing faces at the back of his reader, whistling, leaning out the window and screaming “Konnichiwaaaa!!” to the birds…  It was as if the child in him had been waiting to released all this time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to spring out of this pale somber boy who had always done what was expected of him, waiting for someone who would set him free.

 

“Eriol!” she called again, “if you’re not coming out from wherever you’re hiding, I’ll cancel today’s lesson!”

           

No response.  She tried again.  “I’m going home now!”

 

There was a stir in the bushes, and there was a muffled, “Wait!” before he finally emerged from a thick shrub, cradling something in his arms.  His shoes were scuffed, he had leaves tangled in his hair and his disheveled sweater, and his glasses were fixed at an odd angle on his nose. 

 

Kaho’s eyes widened.  She immediately drew him near, bending down to tidy and chastise him.  “Goodness, Eriol, what have you been doing?  Look at your clothes!  Your sleeve has a hole in it!  You haven’t been climbing trees again, have you?”

 

“No I haven’t,” he mumbled, straightening the glasses on his nose and trying to look dignified in spite of his sorry state.  There was a faint smudge of dirt on his cheek, and Kaho dabbed at it with her handkerchief.  “I found something in the hedge, and I thought I’d catch it before father finds it and decides to send it away.  I didn’t know it’d run so fast, though---”

 

It was then she noticed that he was holding something white and fluffy in his arms, and only when it darted a soft pink ear in the air did she realize what it was.  “A rabbit?”

 

“It took me a while to catch it,” Eriol proudly said, “but it’s mine now.”

 

The rabbit raised its head and blinked gray eyes.  A bundle of softness nestled in the light blue folds of a sweater.  Kaho smiled.  “Can I touch it?”

 

He nodded.  “It’s a friendly one.”

 

She tentatively touched its soft white fur, fingers gently easing the leaves and dirt away from it.  “I used to keep rabbits too, when I was young.  I had around five of them, then they grew and grew until I had so many that my mother told me to give them all away.”

 

“You didn’t keep any?” he asked, aghast.

 

            She shrugged.  “I decided that I could do without them, so I gave them all away.”

 

            “You should’ve kept one,” he reprimanded her, hugging the rabbit tightly.  It squirmed in his grasp.  “I don’t understand why your mother made you do that.  I think it’s always nice to have pets.”

 

            “That’s true,” Kaho laughed, “but it’s not nice to have too much of them, either.”  Then she straightened up and brushed the dirt off her skirt.  “Well.  Shall we go in?  Your face needs washing, and I’ll see if I can do something about that sleeve…  If your father finds you like this, he’ll throw a fit.”

 

            “He’ll throw two fits if he finds this rabbit,” he muttered. 

 

            Kaho paused to consider.  “Good point,” she sighed.

 

            He looked up at her, hopefully.  “Will you ask father to let me keep him?  I’m sure he’ll say yes if you ask him.”

 

            “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asked, puzzled.

 

            A shadow flickered in his dark eyes.  “He never listens to me.”

           

 

***

 

 

She dreamt of him in small fragments at first --- a glimmer of a smile, a daffodil drifting from the sky, crumbs of a cherry tart.  But in time, she began to see more and more of him, piecing him together in her mind until he was finally, fully there --- a pale boy with deep blue eyes and a soft lilting laugh. 

 

In her dreams the sky hung bright outside the window.  Inside the house they always laughed and ran up and down the winding staircase and filled the air with song.  In the end, when he finally toppled breathless and exhausted in her arms, she held him near and hummed bars from an old lullaby, carefully drawing out the words so he understood: 

 

 

/sasayaku kodachi kara  tobitatsu tori no you ni

mugen no ashita e to  habataite hoshii

yasumeteta tsubasa o  hirogeru sono hi made

kanashimi ha itsudemo  watashi no azukete ite/

                                   

                        /Like a bird emerging from a whispering grove

                        Fly towards the never-ending morrow

                        Until the day you spread those rested wings

                        Let me take care of your sorrow./           

 

           

            And while she sang, he always slept peacefully; as if nothing else had ever promised him sweet slumber, as if she was all he ever needed and that he was so glad to have found her at last.           

 

 

***

 

                         

Kaho glanced through the half-open door at Eriol, who sat huddled at the grand piano, furiously banging out Tchaikovsky.

 

The professor sighed.  “Last time he brought home a cat, it scrambled up the curtains and made a mess in my study.  I had him bring it to the nearest cat pound.  He loves animals and takes good care of them, but for some reason they always end up breaking something, tearing things in half…  He swears he never lets them out of his sight, though.”

 

“He promised to take good care of the rabbit,” Kaho weakly said, distracted by the murderous assault on the piano in the other room.  How could the professor stand this racket?  He must do this all the time, she thought, grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door shut.  “I made him promise, and he said he’ll keep his word.”

 

“I know he will.  He always does.”  The professor sighed again, running an exasperated hand through his hair.  “I just don’t understand why things still get out of hand in spite of that.”

 

An image of Eriol curled up with a book in a chair and a bored cat pouncing on vases behind him flashed in her mind.  She felt a smile coming, fought to hide it, and coughed politely instead.  “I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure this time nothing happens.”

 

            The professor beamed at her.  It was apparently the answer he had been looking for.  “Thank you, Mizuki-kun.  You’ve been such great help; I don’t think we could ever do without you.  And I’m terribly sorry for making you look after my son when you have finals to study for and all---”

 

            “It’s nothing, sir,” she replied.  “Besides, I like being with Eriol.  He amuses me.”

 

            Behind the closed door rang a shrill, livid crescendo.

 

            “Yes, he’s a good boy, isn’t he?”

 

She felt the smile coming again.  “Good as he’ll ever be.”

 

 

 

 

            The clock in the hall chimed four-thirty.  A cup of tea, two biscuits, and a lecture skimmed twice over, Kaho noticed that the sounds of angry piano had finally died out.  Nobody can stay that mad for long, she thought, getting up from her chair to tell him the good news.

 

            Eriol was standing by the window, drapes parted with one hand, staring outside at the trees.  He didn’t turn to look as she stepped in the room.  He didn’t have to; he knew it was her.  “Congratulations, you get to keep the rabbit,” she announced.  When he didn’t stir, she walked up to the piano and sat down at it.  Few sheets of music had drifted onto the floor.  She picked them up and put them back on the rest where they belonged.

 

            He sniffed.  “That’s because you asked him.”

 

            “I told him I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

 

            “A while ago he was telling me I couldn’t keep it.”  He sounded bitter.  “He doesn’t trust me.” 

 

            “He told me you had other pets.” 

 

He ignored her.

 

            A glance at the sheets told her that he had been playing ‘Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in B Flat’.  She smiled inwardly at the memory of his incensed rendition, wondering what the piece was really meant to sound like.  She had read about musicians giving vent to their emotions through their instruments but had never heard it for herself, not until Eriol sat at the piano and made it scream out his frustration.  He may be a gifted musician, she thought, but he’s still such a child. 

 

            He shifted restlessly.  “Are we going to start the lesson?”

 

“In a while, yes.”  It would be nice if he played something light and lilting, like a summer song.  After all, calm suited him far more than anger did…  Her brown eyes surveyed the music critically for a moment, and then tucking a tendril of her hair behind her ear, she slowly ran through a few bars.  She had wanted him to play something like this --- something calm, like a quietly rushing brook; something serene and unruffled, like the sky.  Like the blue in his eyes.  Her finger suddenly slipped.  She stumbled over a measure, fell, tried to get up and stumbled once more--- 

 

Giggling at her mistakes, she was only aware that he had been standing behind her when she finally noticed his shadow falling on the sheet of music.  “You can play?” he asked, interested.

 

            “Not well,” she laughed, “I studied it for a while, but as you can see I wasn’t the best of students…  And this part always gets me---”

 

            “Which one?”  He bent closer to look at the music, lightly touching her shoulder as he did so. 

 

            Her heart suddenly leaped.  “This one.”

 

Reaching out his other hand, he absently ran through the passage.  His pale fingers glided down the ivory keys with a graceful ease that probably struck her as beautiful, should’ve struck her as beautiful, but her thoughts were on that other hand burning itself onto her shoulder…  The final note finally wafted into silence.  He turned to glance at her inexplicably flustered self, and as he moved she felt his breath against her cheek.  “See?  That wasn’t so hard.”  

 

            Dark blue eyes searing her skin, stirring the oddest of feelings inside her.  She knew her face was starting to flush.  “It’ll take me more than ten years to master this,”  she weakly joked, carefully avoiding his gaze.  He smelled of cinnamon and a bit of pine and was very very warm…  She tried to straighten up and angle herself away from him, but just as suddenly as he had appeared, his arms had already encircled themselves around her shoulders, clutching her in a tight embrace. 

 

Her breath caught itself in her throat.  “E-Eriol?” she asked hoarsely, but he only buried his face in her shoulder.  Tendrils of soft dark, almost black hair brushed against her neck, feeling like silk against her burning skin.  She tried again, touching his arm hesitantly, almost afraid to feel him.  “Eriol…?”

 

            “Don’t,” he whispered huskily.

 

            A sheet of Tchaikovsky slipped from the piano and softly drifted down to lie at their feet.

 

            Looking back she knew she should’ve pulled away at the slightest chance, should’ve reprimanded him, should’ve kidded him for acting so unlike himself, should’ve laughed at herself for being so flustered, should’ve done anything---

 

            Anything but let him hold her and close her eyes and keep very still so he won’t ever pull away.

 

 

*** 

 

 

            /I want---/ the boy began suddenly, and the man looked up from his book.

 

It was a great room that once housed so many things --- books stacked as high as the ceiling, pictures on the walls, merrily crackling fire in the hearth, faded manuscripts scattered around the stone floor --- but was now dim and bare, save for the two old threadbare chairs that stood facing each other.

 

In one chair sat the man, the boy sat in the other.  But now the other chair was empty.  Its occupant stood at the window, gripping the drapes and staring at whatever lay outside. 

 

The man smiled, closing his book.  /Children like you are always greedy; hungering for more than they can afford to keep./  

 

/I have a right to want more./  The boy’s fist tightened.  /I never had anything to begin with./

 

/You had yourself./

 

/My self wasn’t enough./

 

/You had me./

 

/You didn’t complete me./

 

The man scoffed.  /And she will?/

 

/Maybe./  The boy’s eyes softened. 

 

/And maybe not./ 

 

/It probably doesn’t matter./

 

/It probably will./

 

A pale yellow butterfly flitted close to the glass, dancing merrily before the boy’s eyes, and the latter trailed after it with a finger, wondering if he should open the window and let it in.

 

 

***

 

 

Kaho stared outside the window and bit her lip --- the sky was ominously dark, and every now and then came the low rumble of thunder.  Of all the things to leave behind, why did it have to be her umbrella?  It would only be a matter of time before the rain fell, and she was sure she would be caught in the middle of the downpour, papers and books and all.  And it’ll be harder to find my way home, she thought with growing unease, shifting her papers restlessly and stuffing them in her knapsack.  Heaven forbid I fall into another one of those ditches…

 

Her eye fell on the reader and the empty chair waiting in front of her.  Where was Eriol?  He should’ve arrived minutes ago.  She whipped out her pen, unscrewing the cap, scribbling something on the back of her notebook.  Osoi.  Late.  He was either preoccupied with feeding his rabbit, immersed in a book, or was sent out by his father to buy something.  But the professor, who had answered the door, hadn’t said anything about Eriol running any errands.  He only told her to wait in the kitchen, saying that his son would be there any time soon.  

 

Kaho sighed, capped her pen, and started tapping it against the table.

 

The clock read five minutes to six. 

 

A deep grumble sounded in the distance.

 

Tap tap tap tap tap.       

 

            Osoi.

 

            Which was strange, considering it was he who often got to the kitchen first.  It was he who turned in his chair at the sound of her footsteps and lit up at the sight of her, declaring that the whole while she was gone he had already skimmed through his reader, finished all his homework, fed his rabbit, and cleaned the house.           

 

            Mou --- here he pretended to be very disappointed --- Mizuki-sensei, ososugimasu.

 

            Ososugiru. 

 

            Too late.

 

Tap tap tap tap tap.

           

She heard steps from the corridor, growing louder.  Ah, finally.  She glanced as the door swung open, but instead of her student dashing in with a mumbled apology, the professor came in; a newspaper folded under one arm, holding a coffee mug.  He blinked at the sight of her sitting alone at the kitchen table.  “Hn?  Mizuki-kun?  How come Eriol’s not here yet?”

 

            “Truth is,” she sighed, “I was about to ask that question myself.”

 

            He set the mug and newspaper down on the table.  “That’s strange…  I’ve been in the study all afternoon and I didn’t hear him come in; I thought maybe he would’ve gone straight to the back to check on his pet.”

 

            “I checked the garden a while ago but he wasn’t there.”

 

            “And I’m pretty sure he isn’t anywhere upstairs.”

 

            She stirred restlessly.  “He’s never been late for a lesson.”

 

            “He’s never been late for anything.”  Dark blue eyes drifted outside, watching the heavens.  “And it looks like rain today, too.”

 

            Mizuki-sensei, ososugimasu.

 

            She got up from her table.  “I think I’ll go look for him.”

 

            He nodded.  “I’ll help.”

 

 

 

 

Minutes later, they met in the foyer, wild-eyed and breathless.  “I can’t find him.”

 

He shook his head.  “I can’t, either.”

           

“Where could he be?”

           

“I haven’t the foggiest---”

           

There came a loud clap of thunder, and there was a pause before the rain finally unleashed itself in strong, hard torrents of gray.

           

“He could be at school---”

           

“If he were, he would’ve phoned home.”

           

“Or maybe…”  Kaho was at a loss.  Where could that child be?  He couldn’t have dropped by a friend’s house or stopped to check out the toy shop at the corner; he always came straight home, taking no detours on the way.  She clenched her hands into fists.  “Sir, what if he got into an accident?  Or what if he---”

           

“Let’s not think about that,” he quickly said, “this is Eriol, after all.  Maybe he just found a good book at the library and lost track of time again.  You know he’s bound to do something like that---”

           

“Yes, but in this weather…”  Kaho stared at the tumult outside the window.  “He should’ve been home by now.” 

           

“I’ll call the school to check if he’s still there.”  The professor was already making his way to the telephone in the hall.  “I won’t be surprised if that child didn’t carry an umbrella with him today.”

           

“I’ll check the house again!” she called after him, desperately. 

           

The rooms yielded no sign of him, the porch was deserted, and the garden was still empty.  Kaho’s eyes swept the greenery, thinking that the vision of a pale boy with dark hair chasing a white fluffy rabbit in the rain would be the most welcome of sights…

           

She froze.

 

The rabbit.

           

She dashed inside.  “Sir, you haven’t seen his pet around, have you?”  The professor, who was talking with someone on the phone, covered the mouthpiece with a hand.  “Didn’t you see it in its cage?” 

 

“I didn’t find any cage!” 

 

“Mizuki-kun, calm down---”

 

Her heart pounding madly, she flung the door open and ran outside in the rain.                                     

 

 

 

 

Finding her way around the city was worse in the downpour.  Kaho clutched her arms around her drenched self, wincing at the cold, wishing she had the foresight to bring an umbrella.  It was almost impossible to see anything through the thick dusky fog that lay about her but she went on, half-stumbling in the rain, calling Eriol’s name out frantically.  She didn’t know how long she had been walking around in search of him.  It had probably been hours since she had run out of the house.  The professor’s probably worried, she thought.  I have to call him later.

 

“Eriol!” she cried again, but the tumult drowned out her feeble call. 

 

The rabbit.  She should have noticed right from the start that the rabbit was missing.  It could have easily slipped out of its cage and hopped over the hedge to god-knows-where, and Eriol could have gone in search of it, forgetting to leave a note behind in his haste.

           

She spied a glimmer of golden yellow lights not far off --- she had reached the main street.  A nagging voice in her head told her that a rabbit wouldn’t have hopped as far as the main street, but she decided to go on, thinking that she had to exhaust all the possibilities that were there.  Soon she came to the familiar line of restaurants and shops, their small lights and neon signs blinking merrily in the darkness.  Eriol would’ve probably ventured there for shelter, Kaho thought, brushing wet tendrils of brown hair out of her eyes.  She passed a small restaurant, outside of which a few people stood seeking shelter underneath its meager bit of roof.  Eyes regarded down her soaked state with curiosity, even amusement.  There was a chuckle.  “Miss, you ought to get out of the rain if you don’t want to catch a cold---”

           

“Have you seen a boy around here?” Kaho asked, desperately.  “A pale dark-haired one in a school uniform.”               

 

“Lots of boys run around here in their uniforms, miss!”

 

“Why don’t you get out of the rain for a second?  It’s not gonna stop anytime soon, you know.”

 

“I have to look for him,” she mumbled, turning away.

 

“Pass this way again, babe!” yelled someone, and hoots and catcalls rang out after her.

 

She embraced herself more tightly, now conscious of the way her sopping wet sweater hung on the curves of her body.  How long had she been walking around in the rain?  It felt like hours.  Days.  Weeks.

 

The rain went on, bearing down on her with a heaviness that was almost too painful to bear.

 

 

 

 

                Where are you?

            Please come home.       

Please.

 

 

 

“Thank you,” she hoarsely whispered, handing back the cup with trembling hands.  She was standing at the back door of a café, where a waiter had spotted her wandering in the rain as he was lugging out the garbage.  He took pity on her and invited her in for a hot cup of tea, but instead of entering the kitchen and soiling the floor with her muddied feet, she chose to drink the tea outdoors and even gratefully accepted an old tattered shawl that he had found lying at the back of a stove.

 

“You ought to change your clothes,” the waiter told her, “you’ll catch pneumonia if you keep on walking in the rain without an umbrella like that.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” she smiled weakly, “I just need to find my way back.”

 

“Are you lost?”

 

“It looks like it.”  She shivered.

 

“Where do you live?”  The waiter straightened up, wiping his hands on the back of his pants.  “I’ll take you there.”

 

“No thank you, I don’t think that won’t be necessary.  If you will be so kind as to draw me a map, however…”           

 

The waiter was an angel.  Not only did he draw her a map, he also gave her an umbrella.  “It’s mine, actually,” he sheepishly smiled, “but you can use it.  I have another one at home.  And I live near, so it won’t be much trouble for me.”

 

“Thank you so much.”  She bowed deeply, wishing the gods above would shower him with good fortune for the rest of his life.

 

He grinned.  “Hope you find him.”

 

 

 

 

The telltale outline of the Hiiragizawa mansion finally came into view.  Kaho wearily trudged on, sneezing occasionally, feeling the anxiety churn at the pit of her stomach.  The professor had probably been worried the whole time she was out.  What would he say if he saw her like this --- dripping wet, haggard, and, most impoortantly, Eriol-less?

 

I’m done for, she inwardly groaned, feeling as if she wanted to collapse right then and there.

 

But an unexpected sight greeted her as she let herself in the gate.

 

Two figures standing in the rain --- one tall, one short, both carrying ummbrellas. 

 

“Mizuki-kun,” cried the tall one, immediately coming to her side, “are you all right?  I was so worried about you…  I called your apartment but I only got your answering machine.  Come inside, everything’s fine now…”

 

The short figure stood immobile in the rain, head bowed as if in shame, careful to keep his face in shadow.

 

 

***

 

 

            “I was worried sick about you,” Kaho grumbled into her towel as she stepped out of the bathroom.  The professor had kindly lent her dry clothes and told her to take a warm bath --- an offer she immediately gave in to, finally emerging hours later feeling refreshed and calmer than before.  The professor’s too-large robe hung awkwardly on her slender frame, but she didn’t mind at all.  She shut the bathroom door behind her with a click and thrust her feet into fluffy slippers.  “I searched for you for hours.”

           

“I know,” came the meek reply.  Eriol was standing by the linen cabinet, self-consciously shifting through the pile of towels.  His dark hair was still slightly damp, few tendrils of it plastered to his nape. 

           

“I looked over for you,” she continued.  “In the rain.”

           

“And without an umbrella.”  He said, not daring to look up at her.  “I know.  Father already told me.”

           

“Then let me tell you again.”  She walked up to him, hands on her hips.  “The next time you do something like that, I don’t think I’ll even go out and look for you.”

           

His shoulders tensed. 

           

“And if you think it’s fun making people worry about you like that, you’re making a big mis---”

           

“My rabbit was missing.”  His voice was quiet.  “I only went out to look for him.”

           

“You could’ve left a note before you left.”

           

“He was missing!”  Eriol cried.  “I came home and his cage was open.  I thought he wouldn’t have gone far so I went to look for him, but he was gone…”

           

“And you think I’m supposed to sympathize?”  She glared at him, knowing that she wasn’t supposed to scream but for some reason her head was throbbing madly and she was unable to help herself, “Imagine what your father and I thought when we searched the house and couldn’t find you!  I thought you had gotten into an accident or something!”  

 

He looked away.  “If you had just been patient, I would’ve come home.”

 

She stared at him incredulously.  “’Patient’? With that rain?  With you missing for hours?  Are you insane?”

 

“If my father found out that the rabbit was missing,” he argued, tone rising, “he’d say I was irresponsible to let another pet go.”

 

“I’d say your skipping outside the house without a second thought was proof enough of your irresponsibility!”

           

That hit him.  Hard.  “Don’t say that!”

           

“But it’s true, isn’t it?”  She crouched down so that her eye was level with his.  “Aren’t you an impulsive, reckless child?”

 

“I am not a child!” he screamed, hands clenching into fists.

 

It horrified her to see him angry, but at the same time it satisfied her to see him just as furious as she was, to see his dark blue eyes gleaming wildly.  “Oh?” She went on, mindless of the danger that lay ahead, “and what makes you think otherwise?”

 

He glared at her, opening his mouth to say more, but as if thinking better of it, closed it again and chose to look away instead.

 

“Well?”  She mocked him. 

 

“I am not what you think I am,” he muttered. 

           

His words should have told her that something was amiss, but with her frazzled nerves and the worry she had felt in the last few hours suddenly changing into fiery irritation, she was only intent on one thing. 

 

Hurting him. 

 

“If you’re not a child as you say,” she sneered, “prove it.”                          

           

Something locked in those dark blue depths of his --- there was no rage at her impudence; only a twinge of fear, a glimmer of pain, the deepest sadness.   

           

“Prove it!” she demanded.

           

“I will,” he whispered, gripping her arm tightly. 

           

Then.

           

His face, hovering inches away from hers, suddenly changed.  It was the exact same pale face, dark eyes and dark hair, but for some reason she knew she was now staring into a stranger’s face, that this Eriol was not the child she knew.  Was it the shadow in his eyes, or was it that mouth set in a long, thin line? 

           

I am not what you think I am, his words rang in her ears once more.  I am not what you think I am.

           

If you’re not a child as you say, she had taunted him, prove it!

           

His mouth suddenly lifted in a smirk.       

 

Hontou ni shiritai desu ka?  

 

His voice had changed completely.  It was deeper, velvety smooth, dangerously cold as ice.

 

My god, her eyes widened, you’re---

           

His fingers tightened on her arm.  Shiritai desu ne.

 

Suddenly frightened, she tried to wrench her arm free from his grasp, but he now loomed over her, was now much stronger than she was.  Or maybe her limbs had weakened on their own accord, melting at his touch, rendering her boneless…   His nails dug into her flesh as he yanked her to him, his other hand moving up to cup her chin. 

 

She whimpered.

           

Without warning, he moved in for the kill. 

           

Eriol, the name bitterly caught itself in her throat, choking her.

           

He crushed his mouth against hers, hungrily.

 

 

 

 

Two chairs lay facing each other in the middle of a darkened room. 

 

In one chair sat a pale bespectacled man, who turned to look as she stepped inside.  /Welcome,/ he smiled.  He had long dark hair and wire rims that slid down his nose, his lean frame covered in robes of black and sapphire blue.  /Please, come closer./

 

She backed away from him, suddenly frightened.    

 

The other chair across him was empty. 

 

/That’s his chair,/ the man droned on, watching her.  /He couldn’t bear the sight of you in here, so he ran away.  He should be back soon.  In the meantime, I offer you a present./ 

 

He held out a loosely-shut fist to her, daring her to come closer. 

 

She hesitated for a moment before cautiously moving to his side.

 

When she looked, his fingers slowly opened up to reveal fragments of a pale yellow butterfly resting on his palm, lying broken as if it had been crushed.

 

 

 

 

Kaho moaned into the kiss and tried to push him away, but Eriol’s hands gripped her by the wrists and forced her hands down on the floor.  Wait until I’m done, his callous touch seemed to say.  You must wait until I’ve had enough.

 

She shut her eyes tightly, feeling something hot and painful sting at them. 

 

Tears?  For whom? 

 

There came a vision of a butterfly crushed on a palm and she cried when it stung, his pain making her feel as if he were killing her with his agony, driving a knife deep within her over and over again.

 

A tear slid out of the corner of her shut eye and slowly made its course down the side of her cheek.

 

He finally broke away with a gasp, breathing hard.  Through her tears, she saw his dark blue eyes suffused with the same grief, his cheeks stained with tears.  It pained her to watch him.  She quickly pulled her hands away from his grasp, running trembling fingers down her swollen wrists. 

 

 “Kaho,” he brokenly whispered. 

 

For the first time in his life, he finally said her name.  She winced as his voice trembled with tenderness, making her name sound as if he had always treasured it above everything else.  “Kaho.  Do you understand how it is now?”

 

She could not answer.

 

She could only stare down at her palm, silently tracing the lines and crevices of her skin, counting the tears that fell on them one by one.

 

 

 

***

 

 

            …You’d probably think I’m silly for bringing this up again after all these years, but I just want you to know that at that time, I really felt the need to say something.  No, I /wanted/ to say something.  Something that would calm you.  Something that would reassure you that yes, even though you are what you are, I would never change the way I feel about you.  But I wasn’t sure at the time.  I was too scared to say anything.  I only wanted to run away.     

           

And I did run away, I guess, when I finally quit the job and passed it on to someone else.  The professor was very much disappointed in me, I think, but he said he understood.  I felt really bad about my decision, and I kept thinking about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been such a coward.  I hurt you badly, and I wasn’t even able to say I was sorry. 

           

But long after that you surprised me with a letter.  Imagine my shock when I peeked into my mailbox that day!  I was so happy to hear from you again.  You didn’t touch on the incident, although you did mention something about your new guardians and the mansion in Tomoeda that waited for you (or him?) to return. 

 

 

           

Eriol lifted his head. 

 

Nakuru was still standing at the payphone.  Spinel, who was snuggled in his lap and silently listening to the letter he was reading, looked up.  “Is she there yet?” 

 

Eriol checked his watch.  There was still time.  Skimming the letter, he skipped to the last part. 

           

 

 

            …I can’t wait to see Ruby Moon and Spinel Sun again.  I had so much fun with them the last time I was there.  Tell them I have a big surprise in store for them…

 

My visit to Tomoeda won’t be long, but I hope to spend much time with everyone (including Sakura and the others, of course) and do some catching up on all the things I missed while I was away.  You don’t know how long I’ve waited for a chance to escape this cold foggy city!  (Yes, I’m still not used to the cold after all these years.  Isn’t that funny?) 

           

Well, this will be all for now.  My letters can get pretty tedious, I know, so I’ve decided to spare you the trouble of running through them.  Till then, take care, say hi to everyone for me, good luck on your mid-terms. 

 

I can’t wait to see you again.

 

 

            Kaho       

 

           

 

            There was a small ching! and a distant tapping of a shoe; Nakuru was finally coming back from the payphone.

 

            In his lap, Spinel Sun raised its head curiously.  “Is she there yet?”

 

Eriol turned to the approaching ruby-haired guardian.  “Well?  What did she say, did she find the right counter?”

 

“She said she was doing fine,” replied Nakuru, tossing his hair behind his shoulder.  “And she told me to scold you for thinking that she would get lost in an airport.  And I quote, ‘I’ve been through this airport thousands of times; I can do this even with my eyes closed!’”

 

Eriol smiled.  “I guess she should be here soon, then.”

 

“Oooh, I can’t wait!” Nakuru clapped his hands in glee.  “I wonder if she brought any licorice for us.”

 

“It’s rude to expect gifts,” Spinel scolded her, “especially if she’s coming here for an entirely different reason.”

 

“Mou, Suppi, you’re such a spoilsport.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“You mean ‘spoilsport’?”

 

“Shush.”  Eriol’s arm, which cradled Spinel, jiggled him comfortably.  “I think I see her.”

 

Nakuru stood on his toes and peered about him. “Where?  Where is she?”

 

Spinel watched the crowd, dark eyes finally alighting on a brown-haired woman carrying a suitcase and waving a gloved hand in their direction.  “That’s Kaho, isn’t she, Eriol?”

 

“Aa.”  His master nodded as the figure draw closer.  His eyes drank in the sun turning her light brown hair into spun gold, her slow graceful gait, her brown eyes that softened as they took in the vision of him standing with Nakuru and holding Spinel in his arms. 

 

She stopped a few feet away from him, let go of her luggage, and smiled.

           

“I’m home, Eriol.”

           

There was a pause before he finally smiled in turn, stepping forward. 

 

“Welcome home, Kaho.”

 

 

 

[ end chapter 03 ]

 

 

 

Author’s Notes (old):

 

            That does it. *collapses with groan*  Whew, I thought I’d never get this finished… 

(And before you let all tomatoes loose, I thought I’d make it clear that yes, you are not mistaken, this is an ExT fic.  I’m getting to that.) 

It took me a while to write this chapter because 1) I didn’t have a clear idea of how things might have been between Eriol and Kaho, and 2) I was never really interested in whatever might have happened between Eriol and Kaho in the first place. -_-  But what the hey.  I initially thought of Kaho first meeting Eriol in another one of her futile attempts to find her way home, but I ditched it in favor of the nihongo kyoushi bit.  I think it works better that way, too. 

And as for Eriol’s father, well…  Probably kind of flat *sweatdrop*, but he’s very handy to have around. 

If there’s one piece I’d like to hear Eriol play, it’s ‘I.Shinji’ from the Evangelion Koukyougaku CD. *sighs*  In fact, it was the tune that kept running through my head when I was writing this.

Well.

            I’d like to thank everyone who commented on this fic so far.  I love feedback; do keep it coming!  Thought I’d respond to one comment, though: Tomoyo was able to record Eriol standing on top of the shrine gates; she only fell asleep when he used his key moments later.  I should know, I checked.  Twice. -_-**

 

            Eriol : I’d like to clarify something.

            Me : What is it?

            Eriol : Was I really named after Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’?

            Me : *matter-of-factly*  It was either that or Dali’s ‘Skull with its Lyric Appendage Leaning on a Night Table Which Should Have the Exact Temperature of a Cardinal Bird’s Nest’.

            Eriol : o.O

 

Up Next : more on the school festival, premonitions, a class play (with the expected casting mishaps ^^), a special dinner for five.

 

Author’s Notes (new):

           

            ...I wrote embarrassing notes and used a lot of fangirl Japanese.

            But this is still the most decent chapter of this fic.