CHILDREN OF SARJALIM

by Angela

 

Saturday, Day Six:

 

Jinpachi had to cut his last class to get to Haruhiko's school in time.  He waited only a few minutes before the students came pouring from the building.  He hoped Haru didn't have any club activities or clean-up duty that day.  He felt conspicuous in his different uniform and didn't want to wait too long.

 

He wasn't disappointed.  Haruhiko came out alone, carrying a few oversized library books under his arm in addition to the book bag slung over his shoulder.  He wondered if he needed them for a school project.  Jinpachi shook his head.  He never had time for any reading outside of studying; it didn’t seem fair to make a kid read more.

 

"Kasama!" he called out as soon as the boy was close enough.  "Kasama Haruhiko!"  He waved frantically, trying to ignore the snickers of some pretty girls who walked past.

 

Haru walked over slowly, obviously not excited about seeing Jinpachi there.  He shifted his books uncomfortably and looked at the ground.  "Can't you just leave me alone?" he mumbled, walking past. 

 

Jinpachi followed him, frustrated at the boy's lack of interest.  "Shukkaido, just listen to me, will ya?"  He picked up his pace as Haruhiko walked faster.  "I won't bother you again; just let me explain!"

 

"Lovers' quarrel," a girl on the street commented snidely to her friend.  Jinpachi pretended not to hear, narrowing his eyes as he focused his determination.

 

"Shukkaido!  It's not like we're just doing this to annoy you!  It's important to us!  It should be important to you, too!"

 

Haruhiko whirled on him, his face a mask of anger.  "Stop it," he threatened in a low voice.  "I'm not Shukkaido anymore, and I won't be ruled by his life!"  He took a deep breath and Jinpachi wondered if he'd have to fight.  "I had enough of this last year--just tell Shion to let it go already!"

 

"Shion?"  Jinpachi was starting to get angry himself.  "You think I'm here because that brat told me to come?"  He laughed bitterly.  "I'm here because people's lives are in danger!"

 

By Haruhiko's wide eyes and sudden intake of breath, it was clear that Jinpachi finally had his attention.  "The others on the moon--Nadeshiko, Ayame, and Hinagiku--they're going to die unless we get there to help them."

 

Haru dropped his head, clenching his eyes shut.  Jinpachi almost felt sorry for him.  He put his hand on Haru's shoulder.  "Hiiragi suggested we all try to teleport out there."  He looked to the sky, where the faint outline of the daytime moon was white against the blue.  He tried to imagine there were people up there, waiting to be rescued.  "It'll be hard," he admitted, squinting at the pale satellite, "but we've got to try."

 

The boy pulled away from Jinpachi, shaking his head.  "No," he said firmly.  "I won't be part of this.  I'm not Shukkaido, so I can't help you."  He backed up a few steps.  "And even if I wanted to, " he laughed nervously, "I couldn't.  I can hardly teleport to Kyoto; a trip to the moon base would kill me."

 

*****

 

"So you'll be there?  You'll meet me at the river?"  Issei's voice sounded strained and unnatural.  It made Sakura uneasy, but what could she do?  If she refused to see him, their friendship would be ruined.  That wasn't what she'd wanted when she kissed him.

 

"I'll be there," she agreed softly, glancing in the mirror as she brushed her hair.  "But Issei, I don't think--"

 

"You know we need to talk, Shusuran," he said urgently.  "I don't want to put this off any longer.  Please," his voice softened, and for a moment he sounded more like his usual self.  "This means a lot to me."

 

Sakura hung up the phone.  She stared at her face in the mirror and thought about not going.  She didn't want to hear him say that he didn't think of her that way.  She didn't want to see the awkwardness in his expression as he explained about Jinpachi and Enju and everything she'd heard a dozen times before. 

 

She was in love with him. 

 

It wasn't Enju or Shusuran this time.  It wasn't just old emotions re-establishing themselves.  She wanted Issei's arms around her, wanted to spend her life listening to his sweet jokes and gentle words.  She wanted him to protect her, shelter her the way Shusuran always tried to shelter Enju.  When she closed her eyes she saw Issei.  She knew every angle and expression of his beautiful face, his soft eyes and silky hair.  She knew how his broad shoulders felt when she put her arm around him, how his breath came in tiny gasps when he cried.  She'd learned the shape of his hands, how they trembled that last time when he touched her hair.

 

She'd thought that meant something.

 

Sakura tied her hair into a ponytail and went to find her shoes.  The afternoon was warm, so she left her jacket hanging on its peg.  Leaving a note for her mother, she slipped out the door.

 

The train ride was too short; when she reached her stop, Sakura had hardly begun to sort through what she intended to say to him.  She edged her way through the crowded terminal and out into the yellow sunlight. 

 

He'd kissed her back.  Sakura felt a fleeting sense of lightheadedness at the memory.  He'd grasped her shoulders, pulled her close so their bodies touched.  Then he'd kissed back, turning her quick press of lips into a full meeting of mouths.  Why would he do that, if he weren’t attracted to her, if he didn't feel that way?  She touched her lips softly, remembering how warm his breath was, how urgent his kiss had become.

 

So why this, now?  Why was he still pushing her away when it was so clear that he needed her as much as she needed him?

 

The sun was setting by the time she reached the tall banks of the river.  Sunbeams like golden fingers stretched over the water.  It reminded Sakura of the portrait of Sarjalim that had been on the moon base; it had been in front of that picture that Enju first told Shusuran about sleeping with Gyokuran. 

 

Issei was waiting, sitting in the shaggy grass, his back to the path as he stared out over the river.  "Shusuran," he murmured, not turning to look at her.

 

Sakura sat beside him, close enough to touch, if she leaned a bit toward him.  She could almost feel the warmth from his bare forearms.  She wished she could take his hand, twine her fingers around his so that he would lose the courage and the inclination to say what she knew he wanted to say.

 

"Shusuran, I'm glad you came," he began softly, his eyes focused on the distant trees on the far bank.

 

Sakura flinched at his formal tone.  "Why 'Shusuran?'" she wanted to know.  "For months you've used my real name--don't get weird on me now!"

 

He finally turned to look at her.  His eyes were full of emotion--pain.  "How can I not get weird?" he asked sadly.  "You're my best friend."

 

A flash of anger followed his words.  Sakura couldn't let him throw this all out of proportion.  "And you're Jinpachi's best friend," she reminded him high-handedly.  "You didn't let that stop you!" 

 

His eyes were suddenly strained, and she was ashamed.

 

He looked at his shoes, tugging at the laces idly.  "This isn't about Jinpachi, or the way I feel about him."  He tossed a stone into the water.  "It's about how I feel--or don't feel--about you."

 

"I love you," Sakura admitted suddenly.  She didn't want to hear the rest of Issei's speech; she didn't want to hear the rejection he'd probably edited a thousand times to make it hurt less.  Any way he said it, it'd feel the same.  "I love you," she repeated softly.

 

He was quiet for what seemed like forever.  Sakura's heart was pounding.  A part of her wondered if her words meant something to him, if they were changing his mind.  She tried not to hope for it even as excitement rushed through her right alongside the fear.

 

When he finally answered, his voice was shaking.  "You're making this harder."

 

He stood and walked away from her, only to pause after a few steps to stare out over the water.  "When you kissed me," he began, not looking at her, "I reacted very badly.  I shouldn't have--"  A painful-looking blush flooded his cheeks.  "I didn't mean to mislead you."

 

Sakura's heart felt like it weighed twenty pounds.  She got up and went to him, leaning her forehead between his shoulder blades, otherwise not touching him at all.  "Don't say anything else," she whispered; she felt like crying but tried to hold those feelings in check.  She watched Issei's hands curl into fists, then release slowly.  She could feel the warmth of his body through his T-shirt, smell the delicious scent of him.  "I couldn't bear it," she continued, losing the fight with her tears, "if you said another word."

 

"Sakura!"  His voice was strained, almost desperate. 

 

But she wasn't finished.  If she didn't say everything, she'd spend the rest of her life wondering if she should've.  "If you can't love me, even a little, then go ahead and say so.  I won't bother you again."  She took a deep breath, pushing down the sob that threatened to break into her words.  "But think of that kiss.  Think of your reaction.  Think of me."  She felt his body start to shake, then noticed that she was trembling too.  "If you think you can care for me, even the tiniest bit, then let me love you, Issei.  Don't make me give up."

 

She closed her eyes and waited, keeping her head down even when Issei stepped away.  She instantly regretted her rash words, not wanting to give up, even if he said he'd love Jinpachi to the end of time.

 

He surprised her with his embrace.  Her eyes flew open as he enfolded her in his arms, pressing her tightly against him.  She could feel his heart pounding, its thumps shadowing her own.  "Sakura," he murmured, smoothing her hair with his hands.  "You've got me all jumbled inside."  She felt his tears through her hair, running down his cheeks and onto her head.  She closed her eyes and leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his neck.  "I don't know what I feel, suddenly."

 

She felt like smiling, but cried instead.  "Give me time to help you figure it out," she whispered, twisting her fingers in the loose fabric of his shirt.  His arms were warm and strong around her, and his chest was solid against her body.  She could stand like that forever, and never get tired of it.  "Please don't push me away."

 

He tightened his arms and sighed into her hair.  "I'm not."

 

*****

 

Haruhiko’s hands were shaking as he dialed the unfamiliar number.  He was crazy.  He shouldn’t even be considering what he was considering.  He couldn’t offer these people anything worth having--Shukkaido had done terrible things.

 

Why did they still want him?

 

The phone on the other end rang four times.  Haru was about to hang up when a voice answered.  “Yeah?  Yakushimaru here.”

 

“Mikuro?”  Haru’s voice shook.  “This is Kasama Haruhiko.”

 

“Haru!”  There was a scuffling sort of scramble on the other end as Mikuro fumbled for a more comfortable hold on the telephone.  “What’s up?”

 

How did he explain?  Haruhiko knew that Mikuro didn’t like Shion and the others.  He was there last year, to witness, and take home, some of the pain that Kobayashi Rin was capable of doling out.  He had protected Haru, without even asking why.  Assuming Shion was the bad guy.

 

Now he knew better.

 

“I need your help,” he offered after an awkward pause.  “My--friends from the moon, they need help.  They say they need me.”  He hated the impersonal buzz of the telephone; it made this harder.  “But you know what I did . . . .”

 

“No,” Mikuro interjected, his quiet voice firm.  “I know what Shukkaido did.  You had nothing to do with that, Haruhiko.  Nothing.”  

 

“But--”

 

Mikuro sighed; Haru fell silent.  “You and Shukkaido, you’re not the same person.  You’re better than that.  You’re better than all of them--especially that Shion guy--because you know the difference between now and then.”

 

“I’m not Shukkaido,” Haru whispered.  It had been almost a mantra for him in the past year, but he’d never really believed it.  Now he realized.  That was why he had to help.  “I’m not Shukkaido,” he repeated with more confidence.

 

“Right,” Mikuro sounded almost pleased.

 

Haru continued, his voice rising in pitch.  “It means I have to help them.  Shukkaido might’ve been able to do nothing as people died, but I can’t.  I won’t make that same mistake twice!”

 

Mikuro coughed, maybe choking on something on his end of the connection.  “What?  Haruhiko, are you nuts?  You don’t have any obligations to these people.  You’re free to walk away!  That’s what it means when we say you’re not Shukkaido.”

 

“No!”  Haruhiko was emphatic.  “Don’t you see?  That’s a coward’s argument.  That’s how Shukkaido would have reasoned it.  This is my chance to atone, to show everyone that Kasama Haruhiko is different.”

 

“Haru, no,” Mikuro groaned.

 

“Yes!  Come with me, Mikuro,” he pleaded.  “I can’t face them alone.  Come with me and back me up.  Please?”

 

“You want me to go to one of these meetings?”

 

“I’ll lose my nerve if you don’t.”  Haru’s heart was thumping so hard that his whole chest hurt.  For the first time, though, it felt as though he were doing something right.  Ayame.  He remembered her.  He’d cared about her.  Was it right for him to look the other way while she might be dying? 

 

No.  It was no more right than giving Shion that vaccine, knowing that Mokuren would soon die and leave him alone.

 

“Please, Mikuro,” he urged one last time.  “I need you.”