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[ Dream -- 2 ] Week One, Day Seven

There is warmth bearing down on you, a pleasant feeling, like the afternoon sun on a clear spring day. The fragrance of flowers sweep through, unaltered by the wind, not thick and suffocating, but so sweet, so whimsical. Whatever you're lying on is plush and rustles with the tiny movements you make as you're roused from the darkness that swathed you in such a tranquil blanket.

"Are you all right, Byakuya-sama? You've been sleeping all day."

This melodious voice, this glorious sound... the concern that blankets every word, the devotion so strong that it shakes your very core. Is it possible? Can it be? Do you dare respond to that voice, the voice of your beloved wife that you've longed to hear so light, almost carefree?

Something else makes the decision for you. A warm, soft hand, small, obviously a woman's hand, cups your cheek, in the process pushing away something that had been tickling your nose the entire time. You dare to break the trance, dare to break away from that peaceful darkness to peer up at her.

Her eyes twinkle with beauty and joy. Her cheeks are free from the flush of fever. There is color in her face, a natural color that you can't remember ever seeing before. Her lips are pulled taut, not in a frown, not in a sad, despondent smile, but one of happiness, one that says 'everything is all right' and it seems, for once, you don't feel worry or pain clutch your heart. It's a smile. A true smile.

Her hand remains. She doesn't pull away, she doesn't lower her eyes as if you might reprimand her for showing affection. For what feels like the first time in a hundred years, your heart swells, relief consumes you. To see her alive, to see her well, is this not what you've dreamed of?


"It's nice to nap in the outdoors, but if you're unwell, perhaps you should go inside."

You don't smile. You can't. Have you forgotten how to? Perhaps you have. You have had little reason to express such an emotion, an emotion you like to think you're better off without, is that not right? Or is it... because something's amiss?


But the palm of her hand, usually so cold, always trembling from strain or pain or chill is actually warm, gentle, soothing. It's very real and very much attached to a living being, a being that's working on an ache in your soul that you never thought could be tended to. She's not dead. She's here, right beside you, offering you the care and comfort that you gave to her in her times of need. There is no need to question it. Why would you question it? This is paradise. This is your wish, your greatest wish.


You're in the process of sitting up when a new voice calls and she looks away, towards it, lips curled into a perpetual smile of fondness that you think no one can ever surpass. "He's been waiting."

You follow her gaze, across this field of grass where there's a confident young man, face round with youth, eyes dancing with pride and eagerness. He carries a bokken, his hair pulled behind his head. He reminds you of someone, someone you locked away long ago. "Tousama, you said you would show it to me today. I wish to see it. That technique..." He lowers his eyes and you watch as he tries to reel in that excitement, tries to hide the overeagerness because you don't approve of such nonsense. "Forgive me, Tousama," he says quickly. "I only wished to see that technique so that I may learn it."

'Technique?' you think, brow furrowed just slightly so that only you may know. 'Tousama?'

What... you climb to your feet and she rises with you. Is it possible? She is here with you, standing beside you with a kind air about her, health in tact and her eyes on you rather than something in the distance. There's a boy calling you father, a boy that you already know will make you proud, be an honorable man who will carry the Kuchiki name well.

"He's been waiting for you to awaken all day," she says thoughtfully, her fingers entwining with yours. "We both have. If you need to rest from your battle, you should do so."



She steps back, though she doesn't relinquish her hold on your hand. Somehow, it isn't as comforting as it was just a moment ago. You're alone. The manor is empty, you sit in front of her photo as much as you can and pray her life in the next will be better than what you gave to her. You pray that she will be healthy, that she will be surrounded by loving people, that she will have all she needs so she'll never be unhappy again. You pray that what you do is enough to ease her soul, that you caring for--


--will be of some comfort to her as she moves on.

You do not have a son. This boy before you is not real. He can't be real. She isn't real. She can't be. You're alone...

"Is something the matter?"

Her concern slices into you like a sword, digs through your chest like--


-- ...

Something isn't right. Something is missing.


The wide, open field, the smell of the most beautiful flowers, the afternoon sun, the tall tree that reaches to the sky... she is here and you have an heir. This is paradise. This is what you've always wanted, a family to lead, to call your own, tied by more than obligation and relation.


Why reject it?

There is no reason. The icy darkness in which you boxed yourself into doesn't have to be. Why can't this be reality?

Something is missing.


Someone should be here.


Someone important.



what's her name?


"Where is --?"

You know you've said a name, someone's name, anyone's name, but you can't hear yourself say it. The moment it's passed your lips, you can't remember what it was, but she tilts her head. "Who? I don't know what you mean."

"-- should be here."

"You must have a fever," she tells you, checking your temperature, another invasion that you don't approve of, another sign that something is wrong. "There's no one by that name here."

Someone's missing.


Don't know.


Not here.

then where?

This family is... incomplete.


... someone, someone important, is missing. 

[He lies still, giving the impression he may not be awake. How pleasant it started and how quickly he could change it. A family, a family with his wife, a family that he could come home to.

He says nothing, doesn't even look at the Hitomi as he stands and leaves the room. He doesn't care. Dreams are simply dreams. He knows that particular one will never be anything more than a false vision. A false, incomplete vision.]


Feb. 21st, 2010 12:46 pm (UTC)
[Rin is browsing the network once more. Usually, she avoids dreams, takes especial care to do so, knowing the degrading aftertaste which that kind of invasion brings with it. But she isn't all that adept at this technology yet, and so, a slip-up happens. The dream begins playing, and before she can figure out how to turn it off, something in it hits a tone within her, resonates with her own deeply engrained experience.

The sense of family that is so very fleeting, so very deceptive, the loss, the "tousama" -- a word that has not passed her lips often in the last two years, but that has been on her mind nonetheless, often urging to be spoken, often attached to an image within a dream within a dream within a dream. Fleeting, gone forever, part of a past that will one day be forgotten, that already so few people besides herself remember.

She must guard it well. Her mind's been on other things lately; she must be mindful. Keep the memories locked in her heart, of daddy and mommy and grandpa and all the young students. Of days when the dōjō was not silent, was anything but. Even if, sometimes quietly, sometimes vocally, she's wished to just forget. Go on with her life as if they never were anything but shadows on the wall. But she's strong enough to carry those memories, now. She thinks.

Yet she's still caught off guard and aching. A tear runs down her face and her breath catches.]

Feb. 22nd, 2010 12:46 am (UTC)
[He's not fool enough to believe that the Hitomi was fickle enough to pick particular dreams to leave out of circulation. He'd already expected a response when he'd gone off to allow it to sink in that those were never going to happen. He would have no heir, he would have no wife and that missing person was gone because he didn't have the ability to tell her to come back.

What he doesn't expect is this girl. When he's returned the hitomi, he stares at her with no sympathy. He has none, not for family. Certainly he wouldn't have any for some stranger.]

... who are you?
Feb. 22nd, 2010 06:27 am (UTC)
[It's only when she's spoken to that realizes what she's done, such intrusion, and if this man is being curt with her, she's certainly brought it on herself. She doesn't know him, he doesn't know her, but -- wait, something about the dream was familiar, even beyond the loss of family. This Hisana woman...

But Rin won't speak of that now. Instead, she apologizes, flustered.]

I'm sorry, I really am! I didn't mean to do that.

I'm Rin.
Feb. 25th, 2010 07:59 am (UTC)
[A mistake. He's never cared much for mistakes and he cares, even less, when they are invading this personal world that he's kept locked up for so long. He regards her with his usual icy stare. Detering her, and anyone else fool enough to prod, is his only intent at this point.]

Is that all?
Feb. 25th, 2010 09:10 am (UTC)
[Rin gulps a little. There are still questions on her lips, things she's wondering about, but she knows that now would be the worst time to pick for that. In the end, she decides to back out.]

Yes. That's all.


Kannagara - The Way of the Gods

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