The Eye of the Crow

a new death note fic!

2009-01-20T22:26:41Z

I was so fed up with learning for my Historical Japanese exam, that I decided to write a yaoi fic. It helped a lot; I felt much better and - quite suprisingly - even passed the exam. Yay!

Title: Waiting for Tomorrow

Rating: M

Pairing: Raito/Mikami

World Count: 2111

Warning: Yaoi

Summary: God and his disciple, and their last night together.

Every Jesus has his Gethsemane. But Jesus himself was abandoned by his disciples who fell asleep when he needed them, and this disciple of his was still there by his side, waking, attentively waiting for his orders. Whatever those might be.

The calendar read January 27. The world outside was dark and cold, this winter being one of the coldest in the last decade, and fine white snow glittered in the pools of street light, before it disappeared.

The lights in the room were all off except for the dim one hanging just above the dark brown sofa that was just enough to make the faces of the two men beneath it visible.

“I used to want to have a sledge.”

Raito’s expression remained unchanged.

“And?”

“But my mother was always telling me that we don’t get enough of snow in our area, only in the mountains.”

Raito didn’t say anything to that and Mikami didn’t volunteer to continue; Raito looked out the window, silently watching the falling snow. There was beauty in that sight, that was undeniable, as well as in the sight of white winter scenery.

But if it lasted for long, it grew lethal. Certainly not here, but he recalled the documentary he once saw concerning the northern countries. After long weeks without sunrays, people would go out and find some hidden place among the omnipresent masses of whiteness and simply stay there, freezing to death.

People would seek death out of the sheer despair caused by the primal phenomenon of coldness represented by snow.

One after one the snowflakes dissolved in the dark. Crime, Raito thought, as desirable it was to put an end to it as it was, was just another of these phenomena, which were numerous.

Earthquakes. Floods. Starvation. Cancer. The list appeared to be endless.

There were thousands of people suffering every passing minute, people who didn’t have the lightest connection with crime and consequently with Kira, and even if he suddenly called this world The New and Better One, there wasn’t any solution at hand, much less such that could be accomplished with a pen and a certain notebook.

Of course that deep down, he had been always aware of that. But one thing he was exceedingly good at - and that more than anything else was what had gotten him so far – was mastering his own mind. Pushing all doubts aside, he would concentrate on his immediate goals. But those he had already achieved and now there was nothing lying before him but his ultimate and glorious victory.

But what comes after that?

Mikami, who had been regarding Raito with increasing worry, suddenly left his seat and kneeled before him.

“Tomorrow, milord,” the prosecutor said in a reassuring voice, “Tomorrow you will show them your judgment and your reign shall begin.”

Raito looked at the kneeling figure that looked back at him with brownish green eyes shining in a pale face, solemnly and earnestly.

A strange fatigue came over him. It was like a long-distance race where a runner suddenly uses up all his energy, his legs feel the strain of every mile and he cannot see the finish line, because his vision has gone blurry.

That was how he felt now. The only thing that shone through the haze were those eyes, brownish green, bright and utterly insane.

“Why must you always be so… mad?” He said involuntarily. He surprised himself by voicing that aloud, true, but it wasn’t like he regretted it immediately afterwards or anything. Why, it wasn’t of any importance. Moreover, his ever so sharp mind instantly offered him Mikami’s reaction.

Those eyes would widen even a little more in confusion. Then a voice would come: God? What’s the meaning of this? Have I disobeyed your orders? If so, issue new ones and let me amend my mistake. Or something like that. Insane babbling in biblical legalese.

His ever so sharp mind was wrong, for this once.

Brownish green eyes grew suspiciously glazy and then were promptly shut up. Without warning, Mikami pressed his face onto Raito’s knees, embracing his legs with a force that almost made the younger man gasp.

There was no voice.

Outside in the darkness snow was still falling, covering the old world.

Raito felt something wet soaking the fabric on his knee. The arms holding his legs started to tremble.

You are pathetic, Mikami. Get a grip of yourself, we have a long day ahead of us. Maybe you should return to your hotel after all, so we both can get some rest, Raito’s sharp, practical mind offered him at once.

His hand rose up on its own accord and his fingers entered the mass of dark hair, while his eyes trailed outside where all was black and white, unseeing. He kept on touching the other man’s hair in a soothing way, caressing him as tenderly as a mother would her child.

When the silent sobs gradually ceased, he gently took Mikami’s chin and forced him to raise his head. His cold fingers were tracing the other’s cheeks, which felt hot and little bit rough under his touch, possibly the remainder of the drying tears.

The prosecutor’s eyes were shut again and his face was distorted in an expression of the shame of being seen so weak and ridiculous.

“Open your eyes, Teru,” Raito ordered.

The brownish green eyes flickered open.

There was no madness in them. Only pain.

Raito was suddenly overwhelmed by the other’s humanity, as he once was by L’s, but that time he had overcome it, because that man was his enemy who wanted to destroy his dream.

Takada had been human and now she wasn’t there because she got herself killed, and Misa was human by every particle of her being, so much that it had become a persistent annoyance he was constantly struggling to keep at bay.

But this man here was his tool, an echo of his own words, barely more than a function. So why, why was he watching him with those eyes?

Raito slid on the floor, cradling Mikami’s face with his hands. He was slowly inclining towards the figure that was growing rigid, and it felt like the madness he had seen moved itself into his own being.

“Don’t do that to me. Please,” Mikami asked quietly.

Raito ignored that pleading voice, closing the distance between them until their noses touched.

When Raito closed his eyes, it was as though all the darkness of that night was sucked under his eyelids, completely depriving him of all his sensations except of touch, the touch of hot, dry and slightly shaking lips under his own.

He deepened their kiss, slipping his arms behind the other’s back and Teru Mikami grew pliant in his hands, not saying anything more, silently letting Raito touch him as he pleased, as though he gave himself as an offering to his god.

The sound of Mikami’s beating heart roared in his ears – or was it his own, Raito mused as he pressed him to the ground.

When Raito removed his own shirt and started to unbutton the red one belonging to the other man, he felt a little pang of guilt somewhere in the back of his head. Here he was again, never giving anything back, just taking what was offered or even that what was not.

But at that exact moment a voice came, breathless and darkened with desire:

“Use me, my Lord. Use my body to relieve yourself.”

That voice together with the sight of Mikami half naked on the floor squirming under his touch was too much for Raito. His excitement mounted up to point he couldn’t contain himself. He hastily removed the remaining garments and positioned himself between the other man’s legs.

He covered the pale body lying beneath him with hungry kisses. His hand encircled the base of Mikami’s throbbing member and began to stroke him.

The lustful moans that came as a response sent him over the edge sooner that he expected.

Screw the foreplay.

He knew he should use something lest it would be painful for the other man, but there wasn’t anything at hand and he just couldn’t stop, not now. So in the end he just consented to use his saliva before he slid two fingers into Mikami’s opening.

The prosecutor let out a sharp hiss of pain that almost made Raito stop, but the prosecutor soon caught himself, whispering:

“Don’t hold back. Use me as you please.”

That did it again and Raito started to move his fingers in and out, first slowly, then with an increasing speed, his other hand working on Mikami’s member.

When he suddenly removed his fingers Mikami groaned in disappointment, but that didn’t last long because Raito slammed into him with no restraint.

Teru arched his back with a gasp as he struggled to accommodate Raito’s erection. Raito gently kissed him on the mouth, once again stopping still.

“You okay?”

Teru nodded, gazing at Raito with his eyelids half-dropped.

“Use me,” he repeated.

“As you wish,” Raito replied with a crooked smile, and started to move.

Mikami was soon thrusting back in earnest, and Raito was now truly using him, seeing in him not only Teru Mikami, but all the people of this world, his current and future worshippers and he was giving it to them all at once, they were all on their knees begging for it, because that was what this world wanted, to be fucked senseless by someone who had the power to do it, and he was the one, fuck, no, he was The One.

“God,” Mikami’s voice was barely more than a whimper, and everything turned black, black with tiny snowflakes glittering under his eyelids, and people in northern countries went out seeking death in the snow, and other people were dying on the highways and in the hospitals and yet other people were dying because the two of them had written down their names, but the waves of blackness washed it away until there was nothing left, just the sound of their mixed breathing.

…

The calendar was still announcing to the world that it was January 27 and the clock on the table read 11:46 PM, but those were just numbers that had somehow lost all their significance.

The snow had stopped falling; it was just dark now.

Teru rested his head against Raito’s chest, and Raito was idly playing with his hair.

“Talk about something,” he commanded, “Not about… “ Kira. Our New World. Death. …” tomorrow. Just something. I know, “ Raito suddenly remembered, “about the sledge. You haven’t finished that. Did you get it in the end?”

Teru mumbled something incomprehensible into Raito’s chest, obviously exhausted.

“Mmmh?” Raito persisted, not ready to go to sleep yet.

The head of dark hair raised itself with enormous effort, and Raito brushed aside the strands of sweated black hair so that he could see the other’s eyes.

“Yes, I did,” Teru said in a tired voice, “but it was too late. When I got up the hill and saw all those younger children, I felt so ridiculous that I even didn’t want to do it. But as my mother was with me and I didn’t want to disappoint her, I gave it a try. But…” his voice trailed off for a while, “it wasn’t that great as I had imagined. The ride was too slow and not really exciting, and the snow surface wasn’t as perfectly smooth as I had thought, there were even stones that left traces on my sledge. So… well, I was quite disappointed, after having yearned to do that for so long.”

“It wasn’t worth waiting for,” Raito stated.

“No,” Teru agreed softly, “it wasn’t.”

He laid his head back on Raito’s chest and closed his eyes.

“But that is the way of this world. And of all the future ones,” he added almost inaudibly before he felt asleep.

I’m sorry that I told you that you were mad, Raito thought, as he listened to the steady rhythm of his lover’s breathing, I was very wrong.

He remembered the pained look he had seen before and he briefly thought that it would be nice if in the new world, those eyes would be never sad again.

But somehow, was his last thought before he too drifted off to sleep, somehow it didn’t seem likely.

END

cherries - a song

2008-11-25T15:27:04Z

Yeah, amazingly enough, I somehow found a time to make a new song here in Japan. Well, it’s not so brand new, actually it had been halfway done by the time I left, but I was stuck in a middle and only here I got some new ideas, so I finished it. But the problem here was how to record it. Firstly, in our center there is an electronic piano, which is something like a really lame keybord from 20 years ago and it doesn’t sound anywhere near good, and secondly, the recording device I’ve borrowed is something that’s made for recording human voices, so basically my voice can be heard (unfortunately) very clearly, but the piano music is quite subdued. I’ll make a better version when I’m back home (if the planes don’t crash). So, well, this is just for the feeling : music,

Cherries

It’s dark

Your face is hidden by the clouds

So I can’t see in your eyes
What’s in there

Tell me

What is in there

There were stars in blueberry bushes

Someone took them away

There were angels sitting on my doorsteps

But they weren’t here to stay

So dark

That I can see nothing at all

Don’t even know
If you’re here anymore

Are you in there

Tell me

You’re still in there

There was an old house

Cherries in the garden

A boy and a girl played there everyday

And one day he told her:

Wait here in the garden

I’ll come back to you

When the cherries are in bloom

/And they bloomed

And they fell

And they bloomed

And they fell/:

Until the twilight came

/And they bloomed

And they fell

And they bloomed

And they fell/:

And then the twilight came.

Udělátka podruhé

2008-11-23T05:37:43Z

Tak RAR se tímto zapsal do seznamu programů, kterým není možno důvěřovat, a přidávám tady udělátka ještě jednou, tentokrát jako jednotlivé dokumenty:

Česky - 1 2 3 4 5

日本語 - 1 2 3 4 5

日 30

2008-11-22T03:00:39Z

Už se mi to krátí, ještě týden školy a od pátku máme pětidenní výlet Kjóto-Nara-HIrošima, na který se opravdu těším, protože se při něm nebude odehrávat žádné hapjó, tvorba grafů, nekonečné domácí úkoly a podobně. Hutné zážitky z minulého týdne...

Tady je můj před časem zmíněný projekt o udělátkách – japonská a česká verze.

A sotva jeden projekt skončil, dostali jsme další a samozřejmě mnohem brutálnější. Nyní ve skupinkách po třech lidech provádíme „výzkum“. Téma naší skupinky je Nihondžin no kačikan (Japonský žebříček hodnot), který zkoumáme pomocí inteligentních anketních otázek typu „dali byste přednost podhodnocené zajímavé práci, nebo nudě s vysokým platem?“

Z výsledku pak vyrobíme co? Hezké barevné grafy, samozřejmě.

Protože jestli Japonci milují něco ještě víc než happjó, jsou to právě grafy. Ze všech handoutů, které tady ve vyučování dostáváme, tvoří grafy dobré dvě třetiny.

Ale to neznamená, že by nás tentokrát minulo happjó – při něm budeme představovat svoje grafy.

Minulý týden jsem navštívili jednu střední školu, kde jsme se družili se studenty a měli jsme možnost se zúčastnit dvou vyučovacích hodin. Můj dojem z první hodiny byl otřesný. Silně jsem litovala toho, že jsem si místo literatury nevybrala třeba tělocvik. Učitel se snažil ze vše sil (foto), zatímco studenti… (foto1) (foto2). Nejsem si jistá, jestli za celou hodinu někdo něco řekl, byť by to bylo jenom „nevím“ jako reakce na vyvolání. Brr. Raději mýt záchody, než učit na střední škole, to byl můj okamžitý dojem. Plat se zase tolik neliší.

Američan Ken, který tady v Japonsku učí angličtinu, mi to částečně objasnil – v západním světě od antiky funguje představa výuky jako dialogu, zatímco tady už od Konfucia přetrvává koncept monologu.

Tak nevím. Ale možná to vysvětluje, proč Japoncům dělá takový problém naučit se jakýkolv cizí jazyk.

...and Zorgh finally suceeded in destroying the world. Then he wanted to destroy Disneyworld, but it was just too much fun!

Návštěvu Disneylandu jsem si opravdu užila. Strávili jsme tam dohromady neuvěřitelných třináct hodin, takže jestli v nejbližších několika týdnech uvidím něco obrovského, barevného, světélkujícího a zpívajícího, asi dostanu epileptický záchvat. Ale stálo to zato. Vidět tolik kýče na jednom místě svým způsobem tříbí estetický cit. Louky a stráně, poseté kvítím, jsou krásné díky zlu bodláků, atd. A hlavně, všechny ty atrakce opravdu jsou zábava! Točili jsme se v obrovských čajových šálcích (Mad Tea Party), přidala jsem si na své konto další řidičskou zkušenost (tentokrát z formule), proletěla jsem se vesmírem (Space Mountain), sjela jsem vodopád (Splash Mountain). Jediné, co se mi nepovedlo, bylo vyfotit se s Mickeym, protože většinu dne propršelo a Mickey v dešti nevychází ven, promokl by mu kostým.

Jinak se zde v centru událo další utužování česko-japonského přátelství (foto) a navštívila jsem na velvyslanectví hodinu češtiny, kde pro mne vrcholným okamžikem byla možnost zeptat se všech přítomných proč, sakra, proč se učí česky. Pomsta je sladká!

The story of my epic fail

A nakonec jsem si nechala krátké povídání o své neschopnosti. Minulou sobotu jsem se chtěla setkat s Chinatsu a jejími kamarádkami. Měly jsme mít sraz na jednom nádraží v Tokiu. Dorazila jsem tam dokonce včas, ale po Chinatsu ani stopy. Čekala jsem dvacet minut, třicet, čtyřicet a nic. Řekla jsem si, že je čas jí zavolat, ale samozřejmě jsem zapomněla doma papírek s jejím číslem. Dalším mým cílem byla internetová kavárna, protože to číslo mi Ch. předtím poslala v mejlu. Tak jsem se zeptala na nádraží, kde mě poslali do lépe informované policejní budky. Tam děda v uniformě po deseti minutách na mapě našel něco, co měla být ta internetová kavárna. Vydala jsem se podle jeho instrukcí, ale v dané oblasti jsem nic nenašla. Tohle hledání se odehrávalo výhradně pomocí vyptávání se domorodců, protože v Tokiu drtivá většina ulic nemá názvy a domy zase čísla. Domorodci mě poslali kamsi na druhou stranu od nádraží, kde jsem se zeptala pro změnu člověka co prodával jízdenky na autobus. Ten mě poslal do honosně vypadajícího mrakodrapu, kde jsem – už bez dalšího ptaní – našla hned v přízemí tu kavárnu. Hurá, smůla je prolomena, jásala jsem v duchu. Chyba lávky. Slečna u pokladny po mně totiž chtěla pas. Ten se snažím s sebou moc nenosit, protože při svojí neschopnosti bych ho ještě někde ztratila. Když viděla mé zoufalství, poslala mě do jiné internetové kavárny, kterou jsem po dalších strastech našla. Vypadalo to tam zajímavě, každý počítač měl vlastní kóji. Zaplatila jsem hodinu, což byla minimální sazba, opsala jsem si to číslo a vydala jsem se k telefonnímu automatu. Při vytočení čísla se však neustále ozývalo obsazeno, což mi bylo divné, a obrátila jsem se na náhodného kolemjdoucího se slabomyslným dotazem, jestli jde z telefonních automatů volat na mobily. Jde, samozřejmě. Ovšem ne v případě, když si někdo špatně opíše číslo, že.

Když jsem pak večer vrátila do Urawy, znovu jsem si opsala to číslo a povedlo se mi se dovolat, společnými silami jsme částečně objasnily záhadu, jaktože jsme se na tom nádraží nesetkaly. Chinatsu se ostříhala na krátko a já jsem si obarvila vlasy (foto) Samozřejmě aniž bychom to jedna druhé řekly. E-hm.

http://s364.photobucket.com/albums/oo89/kasasagi/nihon/?albumview=grid

日 22

2008-11-13T15:53:56Z

Den se se dnem sešel a zážitky se opět nahromadily...

Nejdřív, co trvalo hodinu na tom, vysvětlit nám, jak se nosí yukata. Zavazování obi? Kdepak (i když to taky není zas taková sranda). Ne, bylo to, jak yukatu správně složit. Vzhledem k tomu, že nedokážu pořádně složit ani normální svetr (kdepak já a komínky - na vojně by mě stoprocentně šikanovali každý den), byla i ta hodina málo.

Kabuki překonalo moje očekávání, speciální představení pro gaidžiny stálo za to. Hlavní „hrdina“, chlípný mnich Hokaibó občas přešel do angličtiny s naprosto neodolatelným přízvukem, který místy připomínal Luise Armstronga, prohodil nějaký ten vtípek o James Bondovi a měl ohromou srandu z toho, že mu ostatní postavy nerozumí.

Děj, založený na několika skrytých nebo zaměněných identitách postav, ze kterých pak vyplývají různé nepravděpodobné situace, připomínal operetu, ovšem jen do chvíle, kdy postavy tyto taškařice očividně omrzely a začaly se navzájem vraždit, až odříznuté končetiny létaly do hlediště (bez nadsázky – byly ovšem plyšové :).

Nakonec chlípný mnich Hokaibó, který mezitím zemřel a vrátil se jako pomstychtivý duch, zmizel za rachotu bubnů v ohromující záplavě sakurových okvětních lístků (které opět napadaly do hlediště) a šlo se domů.

No, zkrátka kvalitní zábava se vším všudy. Fotit se v divadle bohužel nesmělo, ale našla jsem pro lepší představu dvě fotky ze stejného představení, které se hrálo loni v New Yorku (foto1) (foto2).

Víkendový homestay byl fajn. Moje rodina byla dost moderní, asi tak nejtradičnější bylo to, že jsem spala ve futonu, ale jinak chyběla i tak základní součást japonské kultury, jako jsou トイレスリッパ (speciální přezůvky, které se používají na WC). Ne že by mi to vadilo.

S celé rodiny jsem se sice pořádně poznala pouze s matkou, ale ta byla naprosto úžasná. Máme stejné záliby: jídlo, pití a spánek, takže jsem sice na rozdíl od jiných lidí v našem kurzu nebyla ani na horách, ani v továrně na panenky, ale zato jsem si odpočinula. A v neděli večer jsem konečně na vlastní kůži zažila úžasnou věc zvanou 飲み放題 = nomihódai = vypij, kolik můžeš. (foto). Na začátku se zaplatilo v přepočtu asi 150 korun, a pak jsme měly přesně dvě hodiny na to pořádně se opít. No, nepovedlo se. Hned vysvětlím proč – všechny nápoje se podávaly v půllitrech, kde samotný drink se ukrýval někde na dně a zbytek tvořil led a voda. Chytré!

V pondělí jsme opět s dobrovolníky z řad seniorů vyrazili do Tokia, kde jsme fotili kdeco. Můj projekt o japonských udělátkách je už hotov, až přeložím popisky, aby z toho něco měli i japonštinu neovládající návštěvníci těchto stránek, hodím to sem.

Při návštěvě jednoho mrakodrapu kdesi v Shijuku, ze kterého byl zrovna takový výhled jako z Tokyo Tower, akorát zdarma, mě zaujala neobvyklá výstava.V Japonsku se blíží volby, a japonští školáci dostali za úkol výtvarnými díly podpořit volební účast. No, jestli to zabere, k volbám se půjde radostně (foto) a volební kandidát se bude vybírat srdcem (foto). Ale co je hlavní, k volbám půjdou všichni. I tučňáci. (foto)

V úterý jsem se zúčastnila čajového obřadu, kde jsme pojídali jakési sladké bílé kuličky (rozuměj: každý jednu) a pili hořký zelený čaj při odříkávaní zdvořilostních frází. No, proč ne, ale smysl toho všeho mému gaidžinskému rozumu stále nějak uniká. Ještě mě to čeká jednou, tak třeba příště dojdu osvícení.

Zbytek fotek jako vždy

http://s364.photobucket.com/albums/oo89/kasasagi/nihon/?albumview=grid

日 14

2008-11-05T12:16:55Z

Tak jsme měli happjókai. Většina lidí něco na styl památky Budapeště, takže můj projev o pivu přesně uprostřed byl docela osvěžením, jež se setkalo s příznivým ohlasem. Tedy až na Mohameda ze Saudské Arábie, který se netvářil zrovna přátelsky…doufám, že mi nepřijde žádný podezřelý balíček bez zpáteční adresy. Hm… podivnou náhodou mi dnes přišlo 600 slovy šest set spamů. Hotový spam bombing.

Bohužel stejné happjó budeme muset předvést příští týden i blízké střední škole, kde nevím jak se snesou věty typu :“pivo je zdravější než voda, takže neváhejte a dejte si ho“ a podobně :D.

Na oslavu jsem si koupila umešu (švestky, 10%, sladké), které mi opravdu zachutnalo.

Sotva skončil happjókai, nahnali nás do dalšího projektu – máme nafotit věci, které nás v Japonsku zaujaly v rámci nějakého jednotícího tématu a udělat k tomu prezentaci. Vybrala jsem si 便利な機械, tedy různá užitečná udělátka, kterými si Japonci zjednodušují život. Více o tom, až to budu mít hotové. Zítra jdu na kulturní cvičení 浴衣の着かた, kde se budeme učit, jak nosit yukatu. To by mě zajímalo, co na tom může trvat hodinu. V pátek jdeme na kabuki, které bude údajně trvat 3 a půl hodiny. No, pořád ještě lepší než řecká tragédie.

O víkendu mě čeká homestay, kdy navštívím nějakou rodinu, která bydlí asi hodinu odtud. Podle papíru, co jsem dostala, už u nich takhle bylo asi 60 lidí, tak doufám, že je ani nejbizarnější z mých gaidžinských manýrů nezaskočí.

Jak to vše dopadlo napíšu pak.

A aby tenhle záznam nebyl úplně bez fotek, tak tady je důkaz, že opravdu zde opravdu netrpím hlady, ani když si občas omylem dám něco jako juicy chicken – jak vypadá můj tác po běžném obědě (foto). Jestli se vám to zdá málo, tak dodávám, že na něm předtím byly i věci, po kterých nezůstaly žádné stopy, jako ovoce apod.

日 12

2008-11-03T16:36:33Z

O Japonsku se říká, že se v něm často mísí tradice s nejmodernějšími výstřelky. A je to pravda. Včera jsem byla na večeři s Ryuutou, kamarádem mé kamarádky Hiroko (ironií osudu se ti dva poprvé potkali ve Vídni). Šli jsme do jedné tradiční izakaye v Saitamě. Interiér v tradičním japonském stylu, seděli jsme u horigotacu, což je taková věc, která naoko vypadá, že sedíte na patách u nízkého stolku, ale ve skutečnosti je pod tím stolkem ukrytá díra, do které pěkně pohodlně strčíte nohy. A navíc je to ještě vyhřívané, aby vám na ty nohy netáhlo.

No a k tomu jsme si jídlo objednávali pomocí obrazovky reagující na dotek. 便利.

Japonsko v kostce, řekla bych.

V sobotu jsme vyrazili do Kamakury, kde naše tříčlenná skupinka navštívila jednu teru (budh. chrám) a jednu džindžu (šintoistickou svatyni) s heslem vidět jednu znamená vidět všechny, a pak jsme se poflakovali po pláži, bavili se s jedním Litevcem a lízali zmrzlinu s příchutí zeleného čaje a sladkých brambor (která chutná mnohem líp, než to zní). Nakonec jsme skončili v místním macdonaldu, kde jsem se nechala zlákat pokrmem s názvem juicy chicken, z čehož se vyklubalo to nejpálivější kuře, které jsem se kdy pokoušela jíst. Jak mi chutnalo, jde docela dobře poznat z mého výrazu tady. (foto)

Jen o něco líp dopadla Yoka, která si dala big chicken sandwitch, který by se normálnímu člověku vešel do dlaně dvakrát. Nechci vidět, jak vypadá verze, která není big.

A dnes, kdy byl den kultury a tudíž volno, jsme zamířili do Haradžuku, centra tokijské módy.

Tokijská móda stojí zato. Neplatí tu žádné méně je více (možná tak jenom pokud jde o délku lolitovských sukýnek), naopak z toho, co jsem měla možnost vidět, je zřejmě cílem mít na sobě co nejvíc vrstev různobarevného oděvu s našitými králičky s rudýma očima, květinkami, lebkami a podobně. Tohle, anebo styl ala gotická lolita nebo viktoriánská služka.

Odolala jsem pokušení opatřit si podobný obleček a odešla jsem pouze s šátkem a bezprstovými rukavicemi (foto), neboť jsem oboje potřebovala. Teplé počasí přes den ještě trvá, ale večery se nám tu začínají ochlazovat.

V Haradžuku jsem taky konečně potkala ty hrozivé davy, jak jsem si pochvalovala, že jsem se s nimi zatím nestřetla. No jo, holt byl ten den kultury. Masové.

Při cestě do přilehlého parku Yoyogi jsme pak uviděli houf lidí, kteří něco propagovali nebo proti něčemu demonstrovali (těžko říct, co asi dělá člověk převlečený za pandu mávající tureckou vlajkou), týpka, který nabízel objetí zdarma (foto), čehož jsem nevyužila, ale zato jsem se vyfotila s useknutou hlavou (foto)

Tak, a teď bych se měla začít učit nazpaměť svůj projev o pivu, happjókai se neúprosně blíží!
Ostatní fotky jako vždy na http://s364.photobucket.com/albums/oo89/kasasagi/nihon/?albumview=grid

日 7

2008-10-29T14:23:30Z

Stalo se kdeco, především začalo vyučování, které je zatím docela na docela nízkém levelu, ale to se asi brzy změní. Začali jsme se připravovat na happjókai (soutěž v projevech) na téma 自分の国の。。。こと, tedy něco, co se týká mé země. Vybrala jsem si pivo, což v mém případě asi těžko někoho překvapí.

Ale hlavně jsem navštívilaTókjó… za posledních několik dní jsem se v něm ocitla dokonce třikrát. Kde začít?

Asi bych ho nejdřív porovnala se svou představou před příjezdem – smrad (po tom, co jsem byla loni v létě v New Yorku, jsem měla pocit že je to nutný průvodní jev každého města, kde žije více než 5 miliónů lidí pohromadě - teď jsem v jedné statistice objevila děsivé číslo 30 milionů...to se do té aglomarace beztak počítáme i my v Urawě), nepředstavitelné množství lidí a vraždy za bílého dne (za to může Death Note)...

Skutečnost je taková, že je tu vzduch většinou stejný nebo i lepší než v Praze, roušky bychom měli nosit spíš my doma, lidí snesitelné množství (ale zatím jsem se tam nikdy neocitla brzy ráno, kdy všichni míří do školy nebo do práce, nebo chvíli po čtvrté, kdy v celé zemi zazní melodie na znamení, že se odtamtud mohou zase vrátit), a pokud jde o vraždy za bílého dne, tak jsem měla zatím štěstí. Ale pravda, ještě jsem nebyla v Shinjuku.

Zato jsem byla v Akihabaře, což je mekka prodejců elektroniky a koupila jsem si použitý i-pod za 13000 jenů, se kterým se budu teprve učit zacházet, až dopíšu tento report, vylezla jsem na Tokyo Tower, projela jsem se na ruském kole v Odaibě, zkusila jsem si řízení toyoty na trenažeru (a nebohou virtuální toyotu jsem asi třikrát rozmlátila, protože jsem si nemohla zvyknout, že se v Japonsku jezdí na opačné straně :) a vůbec, 楽しかった, tedy bylo veselo.

Tókjó u mě zatím docela boduje, opravdu je asi lepší čekat jen to nejhorší a člověk je pak příjemně překvapen.

Viz spousta nových fotek http://s364.photobucket.com/albums/oo89/kasasagi/nihon/?albumview=grid

A nakonec jsem si nechala svou návštěvu českého velvyslanectví rovněž kde jinde než v Tokiu, kde se slavilo devadesáté výročí vzniku ČSR.

Předně, české velvyslanectví v Japonsku je obrovské. Představovala jsem si kůlničku, do které se stěží vejdou tři lidi a vlajka, a ocitla jsem se v obrovském sále s křišťálovými lustry.

Byl tam kde kdo. Moje spolužačky Pája a Verča a sempai Hanka, Čech David, který po sedmi měsících v USA (do Japonska přijel v rámci programu své univerzity) česky téměř zapomněl, Američan Peter Star, kterému jsem stále z nějakého důvodu nedokázala uvěřit, že je Američan a ptala jsem se ho, jestli náhodou není Rus, spousta dalších businessmanů a jiných důležitě vypadajících typů, kteří to tam pořádně rozjeli, moje kamarádka Mei, kterou jsem rok neviděla, a Yoshifumi Terada, jehož firma Sake office Terada na akci přivezla dva obrovské sudy saké, a který mě doprovodil domů, vida můj podnapilý stav, za který zřejmě pociťoval jistou spoluzodpovědnost :).

Saké teklo proudem, ale samozřejmě nechybělo ani české pivo a becherovka. A samozřejmě – dobře vybavený bufet.

Bavili se všichni kromě velvyslance Novotného, který se tvářil kysele a pochází z Brušperka (!).

Stručně řečeno, škoda že se taková akce koná pouze jednou do roka!

Fotky zatím nejsou, já jsem nefotila, ale snad nějaké získám od ostatních účastníků.

日 2

2008-10-23T15:13:48Z

„Opovaž se chodit pozdě jako vždycky, Japonci si potrpí na přesnost,“ říkali mi doma. A měli pravdu. Jedna z mnoha neuvěřitelně zdlouhavých a nezáživných orientéšon (vysvětlování, jak něco funguje) se měla odehrát v jakési učebně od dvou. Dorazila jsem tam ve 14:02 a považovala jsem to za svůj osobní úspěch, neboť jedna ze dvou přítomných sensei zrovna četla moje jméno.

Pak se ale začaly shánět po dalších třech chybějících a v 14:04 (!) začaly obvolávat jejich pokoje. Ehm.

Když jsme pak v 15:30 měli uvítací ceremonii s nějakýma těma papalášema (~長), oni tři hříšníci se poučili ze svých chyb a byli tam včas, zatímco já jsem opět přicházela v 15:32, kdy už mi na cestu vybíhala jedna učitelka (!!!) a rovně jako svíce sedící papaláši mě sjeli nesouhlasným pohledem. E-HM.

No a teď abych zase šla, protože je 16:50 a od 17 máme čajový obřad nebo tak něco, tak nechci riskovat, že po mě v 17:01 vyhlásí celostátní pátrání.

Tak čajový obřad nebyl žádný čajový obřad, ale socializování s budoucími učiteli japonštiny ve východní Evropě, které spočívalo v tom, že jsme si všichni vytáhli hrací kartu a pak se rozdělili do skupinek podle čísla na ní a hovořili spolu, stojíce u pro tento účel přinesených stolů, ke kterým jsme si nosili nápoje jako kolu a zelenou fantu (která je mimořádně nechutná) a konečně i ten čaj, pokud na tom někdo trval.

Proč ne, ale trochu to vázlo, příště by mohli zkusit verzi s pivem (など).

Večer jsme poprvé vyrazili do města, k čemuž bych se radši nevyjadřovala… no dobře, našim cílem bylo nádraží, kde byli moji soudruhové tak nadšeni ze vzhledu kolemjdoucích Japonců, že je oslovovali a fotili s nimi. Jednou jsem taky neodolala a vyfotila jsem se s týpkem, který nás kamsi zval. Vyfotili jsme se s ním všichni a pak jsme šli stejně jinam. かわいそう!

Moje obava z přemrštěných cen se zatím nenaplnila, elektronika i oblečení mi přišly naopak levnější. No, uvidím jak jídlo, tím jsem se zatím nemusela zabývat. Ale o víkendu je naše jídelna zavřená, takže...

Jinak lituju, že neumím rusky, protože většina mých soudruhů do tohoto jazyka plynule přechází… zatím vyhledávám společnost Polky, Maďarky a Keňanky, které tento problém nemají.

Zítra nás od rána čekají několikahodinové testy na rozdělení do dvou skupin podle našich schopností, takže si už asi jen pustím trochu ~~gay~~ veselého tenisu (ano, pro odreagování sleduju znova od začátku Tenisu no Ódžisama) a půjdu spát.

Fotky opět zde
http://s364.photobucket.com/albums/oo89/kasasagi/nihon/?albumview=grid

日1

2008-10-22T14:33:18Z

Tento report nepřináší nic zajímavého, kromě ujištění, že jsem stále naživu – i po cestě autem, třemi letadly a dvěma autobusy. Moje otisky, zavazadla, ani další aspekty mého gaidžinského já nevzbudily větší pozornost, takže jsem tentokrát nebyla zavedena do místnosti s dalšími podezřelými živly, což (jak zasvěcení vědí) se mi stalo v USA.

Nihongo kokusai sentá vypadá opravdu hezky, prospekty nelhaly, a jídlo mi taky zatím chutná (zatím žádný hermelín).

Ačkoliv odžísan v letadle, se kterým jsme nějak zavedla hovor, když jsme oba nadávali, protože naši řadu sedadel uprostřed přehlédly obě letušky, které chodily kolem, a málem jsme zůstali bez večeře, tvrdil, že nejlepší doba k návštěvě Japonska je jaro, na podzim si zatím nestěžuju. Ve dne dvacet a v noci tak sedmnáct, vzduch vlahý jako u nás v srpnu.

Přikládám foto noční zahrady, vypadá to tam opravdu krásně, jezírko, japonský domek s kamennými lucernami, altán ap.

Peklo (program) se rozpoutá teprve zítra, kdy se blíže seznámím s naší skupinkou, v jejímž složení převládají obyvatelé bývalého SSSR se jmény jako Igor Volopymyrovič Fimenko.

Fotky zde:

http://s364.photobucket.com/albums/oo89/kasasagi/nihon/?albumview=grid

ただの試し。。。

2008-10-20T18:29:55Z

では、冒険がこれから始まるぞ !

a Death Note rant

2008-09-13T22:43:40Z

I finally got to write the reason why I hate Death Note and why I would write only AU fics for that fandom. Follow the cut.

Lot of people says that they don’t usually read AUs. I used to be one of them; I don’t remember ever reading an AU at the time I was a rabid Harry Potter fan. But that was because I enjoyed Harry Potter as a whole, the story, characters, setting – everything.

Later it was different, when I discovered anime like Gundam Wing, Beyblade or Prince of Tennis. I watched hundreds of episodes where the characters flew randomly around in giant robot machines, participated in a children game with plastic whipping-tops or played weird (but hot) magical tennis, and I perversely enjoyed it, because it was just an entertainment that didn’t pretend to be anything else (well, someone might object that Gundam Wing did, but I find its plot so random that it’s almost nonexistent, and besides, nothing where the main character wears spandex all the time can be taken seriously).

I was reading AUs for these fandoms now and then, because in that time I already cared more for the characters than for the giant robots, magical tennis and so on.

And then Death Note came. And although I read and enjoy all kinds of fanfics, when I write a DN one, AU is the only choice for me. Because – oh, how I’ve been holding it back these past few months – MURDEROUS NOTEBOOKS SUCK A MAJOR D**K!

God do I feel better. Seriously, I find this whole writing someone’s name down so they die thing childish. Now you may wonder who is talking, after confessing to watching stuff like Beyblade, but as I said before, Beyblade doesn’t pretend to bring you a message.

Which Death Note does, unfortunately. On one hand, it makes you think about issues like justification of murder – when you kill an evil person to save someone’s life, it wouldn’t be probably considered wrong, but what when you do it on a much larger scale, say, you kill a thousand evil people? Where is the line?

This question of course has been concerning mankind for a really long time, and you find more or less successful takes on it in literature or philosophy, although it was hardly ever done in a form of a murderous notebook.

However, I would tolerate it as a more attractive metaphor for some kind of less ridiculous weapon of mass destruction if it was a part of some higher idea. But it is not.

Behold the so-called message of Death Note in three bleak sentences:

A bunch of ugly gods of death is bored and so they let their murderous notebooks randomly befall on the Earth, so they can amuse themselves by watching humans kill each other. If you use a Death note, you eventually die and come to Nothingness. If you don’t, the same thing happens.

What kind of a fucking message is that?!

There had never been a book or any piece of art that would make me so angry as this and I assure you that during my life I had been forced to acquaint myself with a lot of ideas and philosophies I didn’t like.

Hell, even Jean-Paul Sartre is better than this – there is nothing, we are all just random particles of dust, fine – but at least there is no pack of retarded creatures with wings making our futile lives even more miserable just to kill some boredom.

I’m not renouncing DN as a whole. There are in fact hundreds of things I like about it – its cleverness, characters, animation – but the idea itself is just wrong and I don’t want to associate myself with it.

So that is the reason I would never, ever write a DN fanfic which is not an AU. I hope I made myself clear.

The Last Champagne, p. 3

2008-07-21T09:35:12Z

And that’s it, thank you for your attention!

“I want to put forth a plea, your majesty.”

L XV was obviously exhausted after the daylong debauchery, because he didn’t even ask Raito to wear the suppliant’s attire and just waved his hand.

“I wish you sent Madame du Beau and Madame de Veau away from the Court. They despise me and they are turning everyone against me. Read, sire!” he cried and threw the bunch of papers at the King’s lap.

L XV randomly picked one and raised it to his eyes.

“Son of Yagami the Friar,

Your tiger attire

Sets the King on fire?”

Raito turned red.

“That’s not the worst part, sire.”

L XV skimmed through the other pamphlets. A whore, found his way to the King through the beds of the whole of Paris, had to buy his title…

“Well, that’s all true,” he said calmly.

Raito’s hands clenched into fists.

“But that doesn’t mean anyone should be writing about it! Please send them away!”

“That’s out of the question,” the King said. “And no pleas would help you this time. Madame du Beau and Madame Veau are to stay. These ladies are dear friends of mine and I enjoy their company.”

“Would you choose them over me?” Raito couldn’t contain himself anymore.

L XV was silent.

“Why-why don’t you just do anything? Why do you let them humiliate me? I thought I meant something to you, but it seems that I was mistaken.”

Raito’s eyes welled up with tears.

L XV still wouldn’t say anything, his dark eyes giving Raito a thoughtful gaze.

Raito’s face suddenly twisted into an ugly grimace.

“Lawliett, you must realize,” he said, “that when someone offends me, it is in fact you who is offended because I am your-”

“Shut up,” L XV ordered icily, “and don’t calm by that name, you know I don’t like it.”

Raito didn’t seem to have heard him.

“Yet my position here could be so different. If I married you, they would have to respect me, even the Duke of Liancourt, and all the others as well!”

“If you…what?!” For the first time in many years, L XV was actually shocked.

“If I married you. I know that it sounds like madness, but remember Henry VIII. To be able to marry Anne Boleyn he left the Catholic Church and established a church of his own. Can’t you just do the same thing – to establish a church with the doctrine that would make it possible for you and me to marry each other?”

“But that’s-”

Raito didn’t wait for the King’s objections and interrupted him.

“There’s no reason why it couldn’t work out. Now when the Queen is finally dead we can-”

L XV interrupted Raito, but it wasn’t a verbal interruption. It was carried out by his hand.

The strength of the blow knocked Raito to the ground. He sat there, absent-mindly rubbing his sore cheek and looking at the King with furious eyes.

“How dare you?” the King burst out.

Raito twisted his lips into an imitation of a smile.

“You have never loved her anyway, so why do you care, Lawliett?”

“That’s enough.” L XV wasn’t yelling anymore; now he was speaking in a very quiet voice.

“Get out of here.”

Raito’s lips trembled. He looked as though he wanted say something more, but eventually he rose and left without a word.

When he reached his bed chamber and closed the door behind him, he collapsed on his bed and his tears fell on a silver silk pillow, spangled with tiny brilliants – the King’s latest gift.

When his tears dried up, he sat at the ebony desk to write a few letters, which left Versailles that very night.

…

Thousands of candles flared up in their crystal holders and the mirrors around the walls multiplied their reflections ad infinitum.

Tonight there was dancing at the famous Hall of Mirrors and at many other Versailles halls as well, for it was the time of the biggest annual ball. It was officially given by the King, but the actual organization was done by Baron de Mikami who himself asked the King to be allowed to take on this responsibility.

The King wasn’t dancing. He sat at his place with the glass of red wine in his hand, listening to his friends, from times to times giving an absent nod as a response.

His eyes wouldn’t leave Raito du Barry. The King wasn’t the only one who couldn’t get his eyes off him; Raito was the centre of everyone’s attention.

He was dressed in black silk, his only jewels being ruby buttons and rubies on the buckles of his shoes.

He seemed to not be able to stay long in one place. He was constantly whirling around the dance floor or talking with one or another group of courtiers. The sound of his radiant laughter resonated throughout the hall. That evening even his sworn enemies caught themselves succumbing to his charms.

A series of gunshot was heard, announcing that the fireworks had started. Some of the courtiers started to pour out of the hall.

“Watch out!” someone cried out.

The next moment the biggest crystal holder fell down and the cries of the courtiers mingled with the sound of shattering glass.

The screams got louder as some people’s dresses caught fire. The crowd was pressing forward the narrow passage that formed the only way out of the hall, treading on those who were unfortunate enough to fall down.

Some ladies’ crinolines caught fire and were burning with a bright flame, and the omnipresent mirrors on the walls multiplied their reflections ad infinitum, so those who were still in the room felt as though they were sealed in a fire trap.

L XV was standing outside in the gardens, watching the fiery writing on the sky that was declaring his glory to the world. Behind his back the servants were running back and fro with buckets of water.

A set of rubies flared through the darkness next to him.

“What a beautiful night, isn’t it, Count du Barry.”

“It is indeed,” Raito agreed.

“Please come with me,” L XV ordered. Raito obeyed and they were returning to the chateau together.

“Sire! Sire!” a voice called from somewhere off the side and soon a man reached them. It was Jean-Pierre du Lac, the King’s secretary.

“The fire has been extinguished, your highness. Twelve people died, including Duke de Liancourt, and ten of others have been wounded. No one knows what could have caused that the candle holder fell.”

L XV gave him a grave look.

“I will examine this matter personally. The culprits won’t escape the hardest punishment.”

The door of the King’s chambers was closed with a loud thud.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” L XV asked straight away.

“Is it necessary?”

The King made a few steps to the window, his back to Raito.

“Raito,” he said, flatly, “I know that you killed them all, Grand-Jurneau and his mistresses, Madame de Tourniere and everyone who ate her cake, Liacourt and all who died in the fire today. And my wife, of course. What I don’t know is why you did that. You couldn’t seriously think that it would help your position here, could you?”

“Sire,” Raito spoke up, “look at the life everyone’s leading here. Parties, balls, hunts, games, fireworks. Tables full of delicacies and champagne. Look at all those dresses and jewels, whose value is almost impossible to estimate. And then look outside, at the thousands who are dying of hunger. You are their king, their ruler; their lives are in your hands. And these lives you are throwing away. You spend your life in debauchery, putting the state affairs off until tomorrow and then until the day after tomorrow.

I’m calling myself Count du Barry now, but my mother was a seamstress. I know what hunger is. When I realized that the whole country is suffering because of the profligate life at the Court, I have decided to change that.

I’ve chosen to fight the evil using its own weapons. I had to become a sinner to fight the sinners back. I’ve humiliated myself, sold my very soul just to be able to do that. And then I’ve started to eliminate the worst evildoers, one after another…”

During his long soliloquy that did express everything he had devoted his whole life to, had to sacrifice his dignity and his very self for it, he couldn’t help but feel that when he was saying aloud the same ideas that have been fueling his inner flame for so long, they kept coming out as empty as soap-bubbles, cracking and disappearing without a trace.

He kept on talking, but he didn’t have a clue what he was speaking about anymore. The only thing that mattered was the King’s face. What a change it underwent; the way Raito knew it it had always expressed indifference, superiority or mild amusement. Now this face was altering between fury, disappointment and deep sorrow.

“What was to come next? My death?” the King asked deafly.

Raito stopped blabbering.

“N-no…believe me, I have never-”

L XV turned to face him.

“Of course not, why would you do that? With my death your influence here disappears. You are somebody only as long as I am alive. My death doesn’t fit your plans.”

“I don’t give a damn about my plans anymore. Something happened to me, something I had not predicted at all. When I met you, I… Lawliett, I mean, sire, may I-”

“Call me whatever you like, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Raito said it.

L XV sighed. It was just another lie, but a beautiful one.

Raito sat down on the ground before the King and raised his eyes to meet L’s.

“Before you send for the guards, can I have a one more plea?”

L’s lips curled into a sad little smile.

“You’re not wearing a suppliant’s attire, but speak forth.”

“I want to spend the rest of this night with you. Then do with me whatever you wish.”

L XV sat down next to Raito and embraced him without a single word.

The last glimmers of the fireworks fell into the room through the high, narrow windows and for a short instance lit the two figures lying on the carpet, the king of France and his lover, a mass murderer, who were clinging to each other like two children lost in the night.

…

The day had dawned. L XV opened his eyes. Raito Yagami, the fake Count du Barry, was breathing steadily in his unperturbed sleep.

L XV shook his head in disbelief. Where had such innocence come from?

It’s just a lie, he kept on reminding himself, but still his hand did find its way to that angelic face and brushed aside a stray lock from Raito’s forehead.

He knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t make himself go and call in the guards. He knew that there was no solution, but he just wasn’t ready to accept it yet. It could still be delayed, at least a little. He could still clear his head on a horseback.

The King mounted on his black horse and spurred him to a canter and then to a gallop. They were rushing trough the trees, everything around them rendered gray by the morning dusk. This time there was no hare to chase, no aim to achieve, just the wind in the treetops.

Nor was there any aim for the thoughts that were running through his head. The kingdom, France, the fire in the mirrors, debauchery, champagne, death, Raito and Raito again.

The horse speeded on as though there was some invisible goal ahead after all, awaiting them in the distance, and L XV spurred him on and on, until everything turned into a blurred smear, penetrated by the first sunrays.

…

When Raito woke up, he immediately realized that something was wrong. The King wasn’t by his side. Raito closed his eyes again and awaited the guards with resignation. Five, ten, twenty minutes passed. Then it turned into a half hour; still nothing happened.

Raito dressed up and left the royal chambers. Suddenly the bells started to ring.

Raito stopped for a moment in a middle of a hall and took a deep breath. He heard a sound of distant voices and ran in that direction.

When he passed through two or three deserted hallways, he finally saw a group of eight or nine people. All the women were weeping.

“What happened?” he asked repeatedly, but no one answered him. He ran away from them, until he saw Watari de Richelieu. He slowed down and reached him in almost languid pace. A horrible premonition seized him and turned his insides to ice.

“Raito,” the Duke said in a moved voice, “the King is dead.”

Raito’s brain suddenly stopped working. Blind and deaf he wandered through the halls and corridors, colliding with people and things.

Finally the darkness disappeared. Raito blinked. He was in one of those spectacular halls where the yesterday’s ball had taken place. The first minister d’Aiguillon stood apart from the others and everyone’s eyes were set on him.

“The King is dead. Long live the King!“ he cried, clapping his hands. In came the servants carrying silver trays with champagne.

Raito raised his glass.

L XV died falling off his horse 10 May 1774. The Bastille fell 14 July 1789. The Dauphin, later called L XVI, his Queen Marie-Antoinette and Raito Yagami, called Count du Barry, died under the guillotine during the year 1793.

FIN

The Last Champagne, p. 2

2008-07-21T09:15:31Z

Here we go with the part two...

Raito du Barry soon opened his own parlor, in which he entertained the new friends he made at the Court and also his old accomplices. Among the most frequent visitors were Duke Watari de Richelieu, Countess Misa du Barry, Count de Ligne and Baron de Mikami.

It was also expected of him that he should spend some time in the parlors of the other prominent courtiers. Raito was quite popular for his pleasing appearance and dignified demeanor; nevertheless his presence seemed to bring bad luck.

When Marquis Grand-Jurneau arranged a boat trip, he ended up drowning with both of his mistresses.

Countess de Tourniere celebrated her birthday a week later; she and other five courtiers died after eating a poisonous birthday cake.

And finally ten days after this event the Queen Marie Leszczynska passed away, none of the doctors having found the cause of her short, yet violent sickness.

Raito now wasn’t receiving quite as many invitations as he did when he first came to the Court. There were also those who had shunned him from the beginning and when he met with them in the hallways, they ostentatiously averted their gazes.

Today was one of those days when Raito wasn’t demanded anywhere. After he had tired of the presence of Countess Misa and Baron de Mikami, he went to see the King, who was in the company of Madame du Beau and Madame de Veau.

When he was as far as twenty steps from their parlor, he could already hear excited voices coming from the inside of the room.

“It belongs to Marquise de Guillom!”

“No, it doesn’t. His are much more hairy. He doesn’t yield to the etiquette and refuses to shave them. This leg surely belongs to-”

“Madame, it’s not your turn. Be quiet and drink a glass of champagne with me,” the King commanded Madame du Beau.

Raito shook his head and entered the room.

When L XV laid his eyes on him, he asked:

“Do you care to join us, Count du Barry? We are not able to discern whose leg it might be.”

Raito inwardly groaned. The game known under the name 'Whose leg is this?' couldn’t be counted among his favorites.

”It belongs to Baron de Pond-Pomporac,” he guessed. It seemed to be his lucky day, for the limb disappeared behind the curtain to reappear again, this time with the half-naked, but complete body of its holder, Baron de Pond-Pomperac.

Madame de Veau spared Raito an acid glance, because it was to be her turn now and Baron de Pond-Pomperac was her secret guess.

King L XV turned to Raito.

“Well done,” he praised him, “is there anything you wish for?”

“There is indeed, my lord. I wish to speak to you in privacy.”

L XV parted with the company and they headed for the King’s chambers.

L XV took a seat in a comfortable armchair, cushioned with a white silk with golden embroidery. Raito remained standing, because the King had yet to give him the permission to sit in his presence. That was bad. It signified that the King wasn’t pleased with him.

“What is it that you have to say?” L XV asked.

“I have a certain request.”

“So that’s why you have interrupted me? I’m not here just for you, you know. I need to pay my attention to other courtiers as well. It’s my duty as the King to do so.”

Raito suppressed a sneer. To play 'Whose leg is this?' is the King’s duty?

“I sincerely apologize for having hindered your highness from performing your … royal duties,” Raito now didn’t even try to conceal his irony, “but it’s quite an urgent matter.”

“Is that so? May it be that you need new brilliants for a doublet?” The King didn’t spare Raito his sarcasm either.

A flicker of anger passed through Raito’s eyes.

“No,” he snapped, “I want to talk with you about that pardon you want to grant to those two criminals who robbed Mr. Valentin’s bakery. I wish you didn’t do so.”

“Why? All they stole was a few loaves of bread and some cakes.”

“It would set a bad precedent, sir. Every theft is a crime and there is only one punishment to a crime – the death penalty. That’s the only way to secure that it won’t happen ever again.” exclaimed Raito with determination.

The King stayed silent for a while, playing with his champagne glass with an undecipherable smile on his lips.

“My dear friend,” he finally spoke. “Allow to remind you of exactly how you used to make your living before we met on a certain hunt. According to the laws of my country, prostitution is a crime.”

Raito turned pale with anger and humiliation.

“I’m sorry for wasting your precious time. Allow me to take my leave, so you can join your friends to have your fun… oh, excuse me, my tongue slipped. What I meant was to fulfill your royal duties.”

L XV didn’t look at all as though he wanted to leave. On the contrary; he shifted in his armchair to find a more comfortable position.

“Don’t give up so easily, Raito. I’d give your request a second chance…if you put on a suppliant’s attire.”

“A suppliant’s attire?” Raito repeated, suspicious. “What do you mean?”

L XV rang a bell and a servant appeared with a paper box, handing it over to Raito.

“This attire was designed by my direct order by my friend Madame du Beau.”

Oh my God, Raito thought, opening the box with trepidation.

A negligee, what else. I could have expected that.

The said piece of garment was long, but by no means modest. It was made of fine red silk and adorned with golden tigers.

Raito disappeared behind a curtain and a moment later came out in the attire of a suppliant. He kneeled before the King.

“Your majesty, I want to put forth a humble plea.”

“Speak forth, suppliant,” the King commanded, trying to maintain a neutral expression, but a slight twitching of the corners of his mouth gave him away.

Raito repeated his previous request, but this time he chose different, more humble expressions.

“And why should I do that?” the King asked.

Raito felt inclined to repeat his previous arguments, but he was aware that they would get him nowhere so he tried a different strategy.

“Because I’m asking so nicely,” he said, kissing L’s shoe buckle.

“Then ask on,” the King said with an amused expression.

Raito untied the velvet blue ribbon at the King’s stocking top and pulled the white stocking down.

“I wonder whose leg this is,” he said jokingly and kissed L’s knee.

“Plead on, suppliant, I’m listening.”

And Raito pleaded and pleaded, until sometime in the early morning hours his pleas were granted and the poor thieves ended up at the gallows.

…

“Do you want to go hunting with me, son?” L XV asked.

The Dauphin, a seven-year-old, quite stout boy dressed in a green velvet child suit, was staring somewhere behind his father with a dull expression on his face.

“I want a cake.”

L XV acted as though he didn’t hear him.

“And what about a game of chess?”

The Dauphin raised his puffy index finger and pointed at a large porcelain bowl.

“Dad, I want some of these cakes. Chess is so boring.”

Raito du Barry, who sat at the corner of the room, reading, fought back an urge to laugh.

L XV turned to him.

“He didn’t take after me, I know. Sadly, the only thing he had inherited from me is my sweet tooth; the rest is all form his mother, may she rest in peace.”

The Dauphin, who didn’t even noticed he had been spoken of, was stuffing himself with cheesecakes, which were handed to him by his nurse-maid.

Raito’s thoughts revolved around the deceased Queen. She wasn’t too pretty or smart a woman; the most interesting thing about her was that she was the Queen and wife of L XV, who didn’t mourn her passing much. Raito inwardly sneered when he remembered how naively she had accepted his exquisite gift – a prayer book adorned with sapphires, the said book having mysteriously disappeared immediately after her death. There’s no need to tell that it contained lethal venom.

Now when the Queen is out of the way I can try to carry out my boldest plan. I’ll try to persuade the King to-

“Count du Barry, I’m talking to you! Are you listening to me?” The King’s voice interrupted Raito’s train of thoughts.

“Yes, sire?”

“I’m asking you how you like the bride I’ve chosen for my son,” L XV said, pointing at the portrait of a blonde girl of approximately seven years of age.

“Charming,” Raito said, “who is it?”

“Marie-Antoinette, the daughter of Maria-Theresa, the empress of Austria.”

Raito said that he saw the King’s choice as the most fortunate.

“I should think so,” the King assented and took a cake.

…

L XV was sitting at the head of the long table, surrounded by ministers and councilors. Well, that was certainly true in a physical sense; mentally the King appeared to by somewhere far away. His eyes alternated between the closed doors and windows, which were giving a view of the forest.

“The poor are rioting,” proclaimed d´Aiguillon, niece of Watari de Richelieu and the new first minister, who gained his position thanks to Raito du Barry’s plea.

“They have no money to buy food or pay taxes,” he continued.

“Then lower the taxes,” said the King absent-mindly.

“We can’t do that, your highness. The national treasure is almost gone. We need money to build the new roads. We’ve been postponing this for two years,” argued another minister, whose field of work included the transport in the kingdom.

“Then raise them,” replied the King with the same absent-mindness as before.

“But your highness, the poor…”

“But sire, the roads…”

L XV made a sudden movement with his right hand. Something flew through the air and a golden coin appeared in the middle of the table. It had the King’s profile on it.

“Flip it, gentlemen. It seems to be the only way to solve this.”

A stunned silence descended on the room. L XV regarded the noblemen.

“And where, pray to tell, is the minister of finance?” he asked.

“Baron de la Garde has fallen ill and can’t leave his bed.”

“Then I’m postponing this meeting until when he can join us. This matter cannot be decided in his absence,” said the King and left the room.

Madame de Veau and Madame du Beau were already waiting for him.

“Is everything ready?” he asked.

“Yes, sire. We are all waiting for you,” said madame de Veau with a short laugh and flirted her green fan.

The King turned to his lover who was standing two steps afar from them.

“Haven’t you changed your mind, Count?”

“I’m afraid not, your highness. With your permission, I’m not going to join this…hunt, sire.”

“The hunt” really deserved to be referred to in quotation marks. For it was a lobster hunt; the animals were released in the forest as the prey. But that would have been too easy, so the King decided that the hunters were to have their eyes blindfolded.

Afterwards came the magnificent dinner, where the captured lobsters were served together with gallons of champagne.

Raito didn’t take part in anything of this. From the very morning he had been in a wretched mood. He had the chance to notice that the number of his enemies had increased remarkably. When he walked down the corridors of Versailles, there were many of those who pretended to be deep in the conversation just to not be obliged to say hello to him. When the same situation repeated for the fourth time, Raito lost his patience and stopped right in front of one those offending groups, measuring the noblemen boldly.

Duke de Liancourt gave him a deprecating look.

“How much does a title cost today, Count du Barry? Or should I call you Mr. Yagami instead?”

Raito spent the rest of the afternoon sulking in his apartment. The words had stung him in a vulnerable place, because they spoke the truth.

The last blow came with Baron de Mikami, who brought him a bunch of hateful pamphlets targeted at no one other than Raito.

Raito easily recognized the unmistakable handwriting and style of Madame de Veau and Madame du Beau. He angrily tossed them away. It was time to pay the King a visit.

fic: Du Barry wasn’t exactly a lady...

2008-07-16T11:11:28Z

It was originally a one-shot, but it had to be split into three parts due to its length.

Title: The Last Champagne

Pairing: LxRaito

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 6774

Summary: An AU in its finest. Starring L XV as the King of France and Raito du Barry as his lover in a story of love and debauchery, lust and deceit. This story was co-written by my dearest friend Borovice and it took us three bottles of champagne and one bottles of red wine to finish it. Well, let the feast begin!

Note: Some themes in this story were inspired by Madame du Barry, written by Catherine Hermary-Vieille, which is an excellent novel and we highly recommend it.

The setting sun bathed the castle’s walls in a crimson glow, while the thousands of candles in crystal holders sent glints of light dancing on the faces of the courtiers, assembled in the throne hall. They were anxiously waiting for the arrival of Count du Barry, the King’s new lover, who was to be presented to the Court. This sensational event had been on everyone’s lips for last few weeks; now the long awaited moment finally arrived.

A fanfare was heard to sound and a wave of excited whispers whipped across the sale.

“Enters Count Raito du Barry!”

Two lackeys opened the door wings and in came an attractive young man, clad in a crimson brocade doublet embroided with golden roses. His knee-length trousers were golden, too, and they were ensembled with fine white stockings and black shoes, which had their golden buckles spangled with little brilliants – the King’s latest gift. He also wore a tie around his neck, ending in a deluge of light, gauzy lace flounces. His hair was slightly frizzled, with the faintest touch of powder.

Dazzling appearance wasn’t the Count’s only advantage. It seemed that he also mastered the Court protocol with remarkable grace. Immediately after his arrival he bowed down before the King, who was dressed in a blue ermine robe embroided with golden French lilies. Raito du Barry didn’t forget to kiss the hem of this robe. Then he gave respectable bows to the other members of the royal family in the exact order dictated by the protocol.

L XV gave him a gracious smile, because he was pleased with his lover’s performance. He clapped his hands.

“Let the feast begin!”

The music started to play and the courtiers left the hall for the gardens, where they were entertained with a theatrical play, in which a party of actors in high powdered wigs with thick layers of bright-colored make-up on their faces played out a piece about the simple life of modest shepherds.

But by no means were all attracted by the performance. The crowd broke into numerous groups that were drinking champagne, dancing, playing cards and other games and above all this they lead various conversations about one topic in particular - count Raito du Barry.

In the middle of these delights the fireworks started.

VIVAT L XV, a fiery writing on the sky proclaimed for a while, before it fell to a thousand shreds of blazing light.

A young page, who came to serve to the Court that very morning, was staring at all of this with his eyes opened wide.

“This is madness,” he whispered.

“No, my lad,” an elderly nobleman replied and took a glass of champagne from the page’s silver tray, “this is Versailles.”

…

The feast was over. The King had finally tired of his lover’s presence and went to rest, weary with worldly delights.

Raito du Barry entered his apartment, adjacent to the King’s chambers, and sat at the toilette table in on of his apartment’s numerous boudoirs. He gave his reflection a thoughtful glance. It was this very face that had brought him here.

His father was a priest, but, as can be gathered from a fact that he was his father, didn’t stay exactly celibate and seduced his mother, a modest seamstress who was regularly visiting the cloister where his father resided in, to mend the inhabitants clothes.

That’s why he was raised by a single mother, who went to Paris soon after his birth. There she met with her former lover, a rich financier named Billard-Dumonceaux. He offered her a job as a housekeeper, which she accepted. Later she married Billard-Dumonceux’s employee, and together with the contribution of her employer and Raito’s biological father friar Soichiro Yagami they could afford to send Raito to a cloister school, which at those times offered the best education attainable.

A cloister school… A wry smile appeared on Raito’s lips at this memory, for such education didn’t really match with his later career. Billard-Dumonceaux, he repeated to himself. That name had a certain ring of fate to it. But then it well should have, for it was at his parlor, where

the champagne sparkled in their glasses. Countess Misa-Amane du Barry took a small sip and threw a skittish glance at Raito Yagami, a pretty, inexperienced young thing who had just returned from a cloister school.

“Allow me to invite you to a dinner. It will be just us and a few of my good friends,” she said with a smile and a flirt of her elegant black fan.

That such a noble lady should pay heed to him made Raito feel honored and he didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation.

The dinner took place in a small parlor that had its walls covered with dark blue tapestry. It was lit up by a marble fireplace and a couple of candles; the resulting effect was that of the place at the same time cozy and oppressing, pleasant and slightly menacing.

Together with Raito and Countess Misa du Barry, there were eight people present. The most significant guest was Duke Watari de Richelieu.

The dinner was served; it consisted of the main dish, a stuffed pheasant with cranberry sauce, chestnut cake for a dessert and muscatel wine for a beverage. Raito had soon won the favor of everyone present with his good looks, inborn grace and social skills. Yet he felt a little bit uneasy, because some of the guests participated in a conversation that obviously concerned his person, but from which he was able to hear nothing but a few words.

“I think that he is the ideal man for our purpose,” said of one these people, a forty-something marquis with a pointed black beard.

This was maddening. What kind of purpose are they talking about?

But this wasn’t the only thing on Raito’s mind. There were also the coquettish glances of Countess Misa du Barry and not exactly coquettish, but disquietingly intense stares of Duke Watari de Richelieu.

The Duke, who was nearing eighty but still kept himself in a shape, emptied his wine glass and took a bite of a pheasant leg with youthful zest. Raito noticed that he still had plenty teeth of his own, which at his age was quite remarkable. The Duke wouldn’t take his eyes off him during the whole dinner.

“Duke,” Misa talked to him with a smile, “you look tired; wouldn’t you like to have a rest in my chambers?”

Raito thought that the Duke looked far from being tired; right on the contrary he seemed to be the freshest one of the company.

The Duke put the pheasant leg aside and said:

“That’s very kind of you, my dear lady. I’d like to ask this charming young man to accompany me.”

Countess Misa gave Raito a subtle kick under the table, indicating that it would be desirable to obey. Raito rose from his chair.

When they reached Misa’s bed chamber and Watari de Richelieu locked the door behind them, Raito considered taking off his doublet right away, but the Duke stopped him.

“Wait, my beauty, first I need to explain the matters to you. We wish that you become the lover of our king L XV. We think that your qualities match, if not surpass those of the King’s former lover monsieur de Pompadour.”

A slight blush rose to Raito’s cheeks. It wasn’t caused by the atrocity of that idea, but rather by its correspondence with Raito’s own plans.

“What am I to do?” he asked in a low voice.

The Duke gave him a brief outline of the plans of the clique he represented. The main goal was to get rid of the adversary first minister and replace him with d’Aiguillon, the Duke’s niece.

Raito as the King’s lover was to persuade the ruler of the merits of this exchange, using every mean possible.

“It’s not going to be easy, my dear,” said Watari de Richelieu, “you’re very beautiful, but there are other matters you must concern yourself with. You must gain a sound knowledge of the court protocol, so we shall find you a tutor. Apart from that you should also be skilled in a certain art…” Watari deliberately left his sentence unfinished and licked his thin lips. Raito took that as the prompt to finally take off his doublet – among other things.

So it happened that Raito lost his hitherto guarded chastity. When he woke up in the morning, he discovered a letter and a diamond bracelet lying on the pillow next to him.

My delightful friend!

I was obliged to leave for Versailles early in the morning, so I missed the wonderful opportunity to wake up by your side. Please accept this humble gift as my apology.

Yours faithfully

Watari de Richelieu

Raito clasped the bracelet around his wrist and watched it glint in the sunshine. It’s just a humble diamond bracelet, but it does cheer one up, he smirked.

Then there was a sudden knock at the door.

“Enter, please,” said Raito. In came Countess Misa-Amane du Barry, dressed in a pink muslin negligee, which didn’t leave much space for imagination.

“Good morning, my friend. Duke de Richelieu had been praising you immensely. He said that it was a long time since he made love to someone without experiencing a failure. Have he explained the state of our affairs to you?”

“Only very briefly.”

“I’ll gladly provide you with more detailed information,” said Misa and sat down on the bed right next to him.

“The Duke probably told you what our goal is. But there is a long way to go yet…” Countess du Barry grasped Raito’s shoulders and made him lie down on the bed.

“Duke de Rrichelieu might have told you that you’d need the lessons of etiquette. But those are not given for free; you will have to cover the expenses.”

“And how do I do that? I had just left school and have no money of my own yet.”

Countess Misa du Barry giggled.

“There is a way, but it’s so indecent that I can’t say it aloud. I’ll whisper it in your ear,” she said and leaned to his ear, her breasts brushing against his naked chest.

“What!? If I did that, the whole of Paris would proclaim that they slept with me!” Raito objected.

Misa just laughed.

“What does the whole of Paris mean to you? The King must to learn of your existence in one way or another. Remember – what matters is that they talk about you, not what they have to say. Our King is a very curious man.”

…

That was very true. It didn’t take too long and Raito and his friend and accomplice Count de Ligne received an invitation to a hunt, organized by L XV. Raito had at this point cast aside his vulgar surname Yagami and went under the title of Count de Barry, acting as a husband of his benefactress Misa, which was made possible with the said man living far away in the country and not a soul in Paris knowing him.

When the morning of the hunt arrived, Raito paid special attention to his attire. He put on a simple green velvet doublet, adorned with just a few silver clasps. The doublet was matched with brown riding-breeches and black top-boots polished to a high shine. On his head he wore a black cocked hat.

When Raito and Count de Ligne approached the hunting party, Raito couldn’t tear his eyes away from the King. As contrasted to the other hunters who wore all green and brown he was dressed in midnight blue. He wore a matching blue ribbon in his wig and all of this was crowned by a blue velvet hat with a couple of peacock feathers.

Now an official introduction was to take place, but the King was so eager about the hunting that he gave a signal to the bugleman to play his instrument and a fanfare was heard to sound. The hunt began.

Never mind that, Raito thought, spurred his horse and thanks to skillful maneuvering soon found his way right to the King’s side.

“A hare!” cried L XV with vigor and spurred his horse to gallop. He didn’t pay any notice to branches that were lashing across his face; the only thing he concentrated on was the prey.

Raito followed his example and soon they were far ahead the rest of the hunters, racing forward with an incredible, hazardous speed.

Raito inwardly swore. Sacrebleau, I could have slain that hare three times now, but it is advisable to let the King have the honor. But he somehow doesn’t seem to really wish to do so…

Suddenly the hare took a refuge in a hole running deeply under the ground and it was gone.

They stopped their horses and let them have some rest. They too had run out of breath; the King even had to lean against a tree for support, panting heavily. Drips of sweat glistened on his forehead.

They had both lost their hats in their rush and were looking rather ruffled.

“Sire,” Raito spoke up, “there is a twig tangled in your wig. May I remove it?”

“If you please,” L XV replied indifferently. His indifference soon disappeared, though. He really didn’t except Raito to take off his whole wig and unceremoniously drop it on the ground.

Raito saw something that he didn’t expect, too. He was taken by surprise by the abundance of unruly black hair that magically appeared under the dull white wig. Blue reflections flickered in it, never mind the forest dusk.

It’s a shame to hide something like that under a wig, Raito mused.

“Your ways are brazen, Raito du Barry,” the King said.

“Does your majesty complain?” Raito asked, succumbing to the urge to plunge his fingers deep into that black silken mass.

By the way of answer, his majesty knocked him down to the moss and started to passionately kiss the nape of his neck.

I take it as 'no', Raito thought and it was his last coherent idea for a very long time.

…

Raito smiled at his reflection. Everything is going according to the plans of Duke de Richelieu. The time came, when Raito could start acting out a plan of his own.

TBC

A real song this time

2008-05-03T22:10:04Z

Yeah, I made it, piano music, my singing (it couldn't be helped) and I even tried to make some VOCALS so please don't freak out when you get to them because they are...erm...interesting %o). There is a first time for everything, right?

Title is Striped Thighs, this is the download link - http://www.gigasize.com/get.php?d=256qqgbtm4b

STRIPED THIGHS

I fear

That this melody is

Too simple for you

There’s no subtlety

Of the ballrooms

And their ladies

Pale and beautiful

Ladies

From the crystal rooms

Dance so gracefully

Before your eyes

While I’m walking down the street

To the grocery

Wearing striped thighs

Striped thighs

Yellow striped thighs

Striped thighs

Blue striped thighs

So bright and out of place

I hope they will make

Someone’s day

Silver spoons and chinaware

Are not quite fitted for ice cream

I’d eat from your hands

Only if I had a chance

I don’t think so

/No I don’t/

Crystal rooms of your

Crystal mind

Full of shiny crystal thoughts

Why I’m always left behind

Its closed doors

Closed doors

These closed doors

Closed doors

Firmly closed doors

What a treasure there must be

That you let no one see

Behind these closed doors

Striped thighs

My striped thighs

Bright, yellow and blue

Going straight to you

Striped thighs

My striped thighs

Just for your eyes

They are yours

To look at

So look

And then laugh

For they are ludicrous

In their brightness

And so am I

Striped thighs

Yellow striped thighs

Striped thighs

Blue striped thighs

So bright and out of place

I hope they will make

Someone’s day

Striped thighs

My striped thighs

Bright, yellow and blue

Going straight to you

Striped thighs

My striped thighs

Just for you

Plus the whispered sequence: Once upon a time there was a girl and she was naughty. She didn’t do what they told her to. She liked lollipops and white wine and she liked you.

an ItaKisa fic!

2008-04-01T10:28:56Z

OMFG! It was like I didn't feel like homework yesterday and I said to myself: "Hey, it's been a long time since you actually wrote anything, isn't it?" and I was thinking of Itachi and Kisame at the moment. I had absolutely no ideas, but it somehow turned into a fic. Yay! Here it is:

Title: Darkling I Come to You

Rating: PG

Pairing: Itachi/Kisame

Word count: 1555

Warning/s: Shounen-ai. Nothing explicit, though.

Summary: Itachi wakes up, unable to move or see. What happens to him in the dark? When you lose something, maybe it is meant to stay lost.

One, two, three, Itachi counts. This is as far as the other one goes. Then the footsteps stop and there is rustling of fabric and tinkling of glass.

His whole body is numb. He wants to move, but cannot lift a finger. He wants to speak, but can barely open his dry lips. No sound escapes them. What is this place? And why is it so dark?

Four and five and six, the steps are coming back and Itachi counts, for that’s the only thing he still can do.

Something is touching his forehead now. It's a human hand, big, warm and quite callous, but the touch is gentle enough. When a finger touches his lips, he starts to shiver.

“The fever is gone now, that's good. You must be thirsty. Here you go,” a voice says, rough and yet gentle, just like the hand. Itachi is sure that he must know whose voice it is, but he doesn't remember. Next moment he thinks only about the cool water slipping down his scorched throat.

“W-where am I?” he finally manages to say in a hoarse voice, “and who are you?”

“You're in a safe place. You don’t remember me?” The other's voice now seems to be saddened a little bit, which doesn't fit with it quite well.

“I don’t know. May I see you?” Itachi asks.

There is a long silence, in which Itachi realizes that not only he doesn't know the other person's identity, but that the very same thing applies for him. But first things first, he decides.

“Will you...take this cloth away from my eyes?” he asks and his voice suddenly sounds meek to his ears. He is hit by a wave of self-loathing at first, but than it subsides. How do I know? Maybe I am a meek kind of person. I think it's highly improbable, though.

Silence stretches. Seven, eight, nine steps away, Itachi counts, for I can count and think and therefore I'm alive and my brain is intact, even when I don’t know who I am and I can't see anything at all.

A soft, deep sigh echoes from the other end of the room (is this really a room?).

“There's no cloth. You're blind, Itachi-san.”

“Itachi? That is… my name?” he whispers.

The darkness in front of his eyes somewhat deepens. There are red wheels turning somewhere back in his head. Blind. Helpless. Alone.

Ten, eleven, twelve, the other one is coming back and takes one of his limp hands into his own.

Not alone.

“You don’t remember anything?”

“I remember…” Red wheels of pain are entwining in a lunatic, nauseating dance and Itachi feels as if he was falling to a deep dark well. He doesn’t know how long it is taking; this time he doesn’t count. At the bottom of the well there is a name. He says it.

Callous fingers detangle themselves from his and let his hand drop back on the blanket, heavy and motionless like a dead fish.

“That’s your brother,” the voice says, suddenly sounding rather cold, “he did this to you.”

The wheels stop with one last violent spin and dissipate into the darkness.

II.

Next time Itachi awakes, first thing he becomes aware of is a cool air caressing his face. It bears a fresh, earthy scent with it, which makes him think of fields and roads whitening in a morning sun and turning into a glistening mist at the horizon, and of the wind playing softly with his hair.

He finds out that he can move now, if only a little. He fails in trying to sit up, hut he can raise both of his hands and touch his face.

First his chin; it is slightly pointed and rather delicate for a man, turning into high cheekbones. There are few scratches on his face that feel new when he runs his fingers over them.

His lips feel thin and dry. His finger on them evokes a memory of the touch of the other man some time before and it once again sends shiver down his spine. What is it about that man that provoked this reaction? And more importantly, who is he?

There are two deep wrinkles engraved under his eyes and he wonders again what kind of a person he might be. Do I worry too much? Or am I a carefree, lightheaded sort of person? Something is telling him that the latter isn’t the case.

Suddenly the door creaks open and he tries to sit up again, this time too abruptly. There is a pang of pain somewhere behind his eyes and his hands automatically shoot up to cover them. When his fingers touch the area above the wrinkles, he lets out a startled cry. This…this is…

“Don’t, Itachi-san,” the voice says and his hands are gently, but firmly pulled away.

“You mustn’t touch them. They heal surprisingly well, but you might get an infection.”

The other man holds his hands for a while.

“Who am I?” Itachi asks, feeling rather stupid.

“You are Itachi-san,” the other man says with a hint of certain stubbornness.

“Obviously,” Itachi replies with a hoarse chuckle, “but that is who?”

“That is my partner.”

Itachi takes a deep breath and counts, this time from one to ten. He is suddenly very aware of a pair of warm hands firmly holding onto his.

“And you are?”

“Hoshigaki Kisame.”

“Ah.”

Smell of earth continues to enter his nostrils and a twirl of memories makes its way to the surface. Twilight is falling on the forest, trees flying by with an incredible speed and he can sense someone’s presence by his side. Friendly fire is burning under the darkening sky and he is watching the back of someone leaning over the kettle.

Bodies on the ground. Blood on his hands. Someone supporting him and whispering reassuring nonsensical words into his ear.

Then it is all gone and the only thing left is a sense of blood and water, two colors, red and blue, distant and subdued for they are not real. Nor will they ever be.

The water is once again slipping down his throat – or is it blood? – and he drinks what he can, before the darkness envelops him.

III.

This time the earthy smell is mingled with a smell of a freshly cooked fish.

“You mustn’t strain yourself that much,” says the voice of the other man – Kisame’s voice, Itachi corrects himself.

“You have told me that some time before, haven’t you?” Itachi replies with a sudden flash of recollection.

“Oh yeah, more than just once, actually. Wait – you remember?” Kisame asks, with a hint of hope in his voice.

“Kind of,” Itachi mumbles. Kisame waits for anything else he might have to say, but nothing follows.

“You’re probably not fit enough for talking so much yet,” Kisame assumes, “Here, have some.”

Itachi feels something warm and smooth being handed to him. He takes a hold of it, finding that it is a bowl with rice and fish. When the appetizing smell reaches his nostrils, he realizes how hungry he is and eats the whole content of the bowl.

“Thank you for the meal,” he says and it sounds odd coming from his mouth. Is that the kind of person I am? Somebody who never shows his gratitude to anyone? Itachi wonders.

“You’re welcome,” answers Kisame and there is a tinge of surprise in his response just strong enough to confirm Itachi’s presumption.

I want to find my lost identity, but I don’t know if I’d wish to assume it again once I’ll actually find it, Itachi muses.

He thinks of those visions of blood and maimed bodies flashing through his mind that were not disturbing him half as much as they should have.

Maybe there was a reason for losing it in a first place.

“Tell me about…” Myself, Itachi has been intending to say, but then he pauses for a moment and suddenly changes the word that has been forming on his lips into something else.

“Tell me about yourself.”

Kisame laughs as to hide his sudden nervousness.

“There’s not much to tell. I’m a pretty boring guy. I don’t have any special abilities or something. I…make living of tending flowers and selling them to beautiful ladies, I mean, not that beautiful, you see, sometimes they are downright ugly,” he goes on stammering after he sees the look on Itachi’s face, thinking that his partner may assume that he has other than work relations with his female customers.

But that’s quite a misunderstanding; the only thing that Itachi is concerned about is the image of those rough, callous hands tending sweet, delicate flowers. This contrast almost makes him laugh, but it also sends shivers through all of his body.

No matter how hard he tries, he cannot recall a single flash of memory that would involve a flower. Either I’m missing something important here or Kisame is a miserable liar, Itachi smiles to himself.

Kisame takes a hold of one of his hands again and Itachi is starting to find it a little bit strange. We are partners, he repeats to himself, but what kind of partners? He cannot bring himself to saying that question aloud.

One hand is lifted and its fingers slowly trace a vein on Itachi’s forearm. His heart beats faster.

Kisame’s fingers draw little circles on his arm and it feels just a little bit odd and at the same time very right.

When Kisame’s hands find their way up to Itachi’s shoulders, they slip behind his back and he gives the smaller man a tentative hug.

Itachi hesitatingly leans into the touch and there are myriads of thoughts dancing madly in his head. Are we really this sort of partners? Or is he making it up, jumping at the opportunity? But then, why I do feel that I can trust him completely? Which is even more unusual, because I think I’m quite a wary person.

Itachi rests his head on Kisame’s shoulder. We must have been very close.

“Now tell me about myself,” he says.

He feels Kisame’s body stiffening slightly. Then the other man takes a deep breath.

“Itachi-san is…you are very special. You are very clever, strong-willed and you have always worked hard to achieve your goals. You are a…urm…writer. Yes, a writer. You write a lot of interesting books about… erm…“

This time it is Itachi’s finger that finds its way on the other man’s lips.

“Hush.”

His fingers trace the lines of a strong jaw, a straight, regular nose and then… one, two, three.

Itachi smirks.

“You have lines under your eyes too.”

“These are of a different kind,” Kisame mumbles, embarrassed.

“But we are not, are we?” Itachi asks, softly.

No, we aren’t. We are just the same.

They kiss. In the darkness, everything comes back. The world hidden behind the red veil, the world of power, blood, pain and madness. His brother who has already won, leaving him to the fate that was worse than death, leaving him weak and powerless. Pathetic. I once said that if that were ever to happen to me, I’d seek death.

That’s what I said. Me. My old self.

Maybe there really was a reason for losing it.

“Tell me,” Itachi says, when their lips part, “are these books about flowers?”

Darkling I come to you

wearing a lie

more beautiful than any truth could ever be

f i n

Silence - a Raito/L song/poem tribute

2008-02-08T14:38:34Z

music’s here

My promises rang hollow in the night

Suddenly

Your breathing makes no sound

What are you heading for?

I thought there would be more

More than this silence

The belfry of your heart has gone so quiet

Your eyes are seeking something out of sight

What is it that you see?

Why don’t you look at me?

Look at me now!

Bells are chiming

Day has faded

Clouds are crying

I’ve created

Paradise

Made of raven eyes

For you and me

a crappy poem

2007-12-16T11:23:06Z

Just a thing I wrote that's actually a song. I'll add the music eventually. The year-end just always makes me take a time to think about what it has brought to me and what it has not.

PARADIGM SHIFT

Please

Don’t let me go

Into that cold night

Let me stay right here

Breathing in your light

The night

is full of glowing eyes

They want to watch me fall down the snow

and slice me with their knives

Don’t let me go.

promise I’ll be quiet

just sitting by your side

I won’t dare to move

not to ruin your precious solitude

Just let me stay.

I’ll be a good girl, diligent and sane

I’ll lead a good life, marry a good man

I’ll do my homeworks and won’t stay up late

I’ll live my empty days

No love no hate

You’ll spend your days reading old poetry

Lecturing on love, obsession and bigotry

Then you’ll come home and open a bottle

Watching your hands cover with mottles

Is that what you’ve wanted?

To follow the pattern

You’d told me once

Patterns are fetters

Paradigm shift

That’s what we’re heading for

Old year is breaking

Watch out for shatters

See

I get it all

But there is still this night

before I leave

and you let me fall

Don’t let me go.

Pieces of the Moon, chpt 2

2007-08-14T15:06:12Z

Prompt #18 sugar

Title: Selfless, cold and composed

Rating: PG

Pairing: Renji/Byakuya

Word count: 1141

Warning/s: None I’m aware of.

Summary: “Worrying about the past will get you nowhere.”

Byakuya let out a wry, humorless chuckle.

“Nowhere is exactly where I’ve been heading for the last fifty years, Renji.”

“I want you to apply for one of the emptied captain seats. The exams start in two weeks.”

He said that in the same even voice he used when giving commands on the battlefield, as if this was just another such command. Draw your sword. Kill that Hollow. Leave my side.

So calm, so emotionless. How did that song go? Selfless, cold and composed. Yes. This all perfectly applied to Kuchiki Byakuya, Renji thought.

Right now his taichou was seated across him at the table, looking at him with his usual expression – that is, with no expression at all – motionlessly waiting for his reply.

When Renji instead picked up a sugar bowl and emptied a good portion of its contents into his coffee cup, some kind of emotion finally found its way onto the other man’s face. A small trace of distaste.

“It will bring merit to the whole of Seireitei. You achieved your bankai and proved yourself ready to proceed to the next step. You served under me well, Renji, and I will recommend your promotion.”

Now go remained unspoken, but it heavily hung in the air.

These were the words Renji had always wanted to hear, yet suddenly they became everything he didn’t wish for his taichou to say. Not after yesterday.

…

Early autumn sun was setting down, finding the captain of the sixth division still seated at his desk, immersed in paperwork. Or so it seemed.

Renji, who was leaning against the door frame, intently staring at the sitting figure, knew better. He was sure that Byakuya’s thoughts were wandering far away from the neatly folded papers in front of him.

He knew that his captain had much greater regrets than he allowed himself to show to the outside world.

He knew that Byakuya’s world was now in shreds, as though he suddenly woke up to find everything he had believed in cracked like an empty shell.

He knew that he was perhaps the only one to understand this.

He wanted to say something comforting, something that would help both of them, but the sight of Byakuya who for once didn’t seem to emanate his usual calm, steady strength, but instead looked rather lost, like a wanderer who went astray in a shadowy forest, strangely affected his ability to speak. Words were just whirling around in his head, refusing to compose a comprehensible sentence.

“Is there anything you need, Abarai-fukutaichou?” Byakuya addressed him with excessive formality. That had only reinforced Renji’s conviction that something was off.

He approached his captain, who didn’t turn to face him. One last step and Renji stood just behind Byakuya, looming over him. Still no reaction came.

Renji awkwardly placed his hands on the other man’s shoulders. He felt Byakuya tense and half-expected him to flinch and reprimand him for his audacity. But no such thing happened. Byakuya just closed his eyes and leaned into Renji’s touch.

Big warm hands rested where they were for a while, wordlessly offering solace and support. Soon Renji’s fingers delved into the silken mass of black hair and his thumbs started to trace small circles on Byakuya’s neck.

Last sunrays bathed them in a warm golden glow and then faded away.

“You know, taichou, you don’t have to be so perfect all the time. Everyone makes a little mistake now and then,” Renji said in unusually quiet, almost soothing voice.

“It was no little mistake. My sister nearly died because of me,” Byakuya replied dryly, his eyes still closed.

“But she didn’t, right? Worrying about the past will get you nowhere.”

Byakuya let out a wry, humorless chuckle.

“Nowhere is exactly where I’ve been heading for the last fifty years, Renji.”

“Then maybe it’s time you stopped,” Renji snapped at him and immediately blinked afterwards, shocked by his own violent reaction. He loosened his unconscious grip on the other man’s shoulders that must have been painful, even though Byakuya didn’t show any signs of discomfort.

“Why should I?” Byakuya asked in a placid voice.

Renji took a deep breath.

“Because…because I…”

Renji’s fingers helplessly roamed through the silken hair, all words having once again abandoned him. When he reached for the kenseikan, the captain froze.

“Don’t.”

For a moment he forgot about all the responsibilities and obligations the hair ornament symbolized, but a single movement brought everything back.

When Byakuya sent his vice-captain away and thus made the pressing hands disappear, he felt as a much heavier burden was now weighing him down instead.

…

He noticed that Byakuya’s fingers were idly playing with the sugar bowl, swirling it around with an odd, entrancing grace. He watched that in fascination, until the noble cleared his throat, obviously waiting for the vice-captain’s reply.

Renji looked him straight in the eye.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I believe I have explained the reasons behind my decision sufficiently,” came the cold reply.

He had to put all his doubts aside, Renji decided, because he was not going to lose. Not this time.

“Like hell you did. I’m not letting you push me away like this.”

Byakuya frowned.

“This is not about you and me. It’s a serious matter concerning all the thirteen divisions.”

“Come on, don’t give me that crap. You really thought I would believe that? Listen to me, taichou.” Renji’s eyes now stared into Byakuya’s with burning intensity.

“If I left, who would be here to annoy you? Who would care enough to try to put cracks in your damn ice armor? To try to catch you when you fall? You think that I want that, don’t you? To see you on your knees. To be honest, I used to, but it’s no longer true. Even when I hated you to the bone I couldn’t help but respect you, too and this respect has been growing ever since.”

“Don’t make me repeat yourself, Abarai-fukutaichou. This is not a personal matter. It is an order and therefore there’s no room for discussion. You are dismissed.”

Cold, imperious voice instantly drove away all Renji’s resolves, leaving only hollow feeling of defeat. His eyes dropped to the table. And then he froze.

He saw Byakuya clasping the sugar bowl with his knuckles white, as if it was a solid rock in a raging sea. His hands were shaking so violently that the glittering sugar spilled on the table, some of it dusting his fingers like a touch of snow on the iceberg.

Renji’s eyes went wide at that sight, but then he reached for the trembling hands, taking them in his own without hesitation.

Byakuya tried to jerk away, but Renji didn’t let go of him until the shaking stopped. The noble averted his gaze with an unfamiliar feeling of shame.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. Then his eyes grew wide, because Renji brought his hands to his lips and kissed the sugar away.

The snow has melted.

And Byakuya realized, startled, that the shame disappeared as swiftly as it came, together with the crushing weight of duty. The only remaining sensation was a surprising feeling of rightness, as is if this was the only way things were supposed to be.

Something in him broke. Maybe it was the tiniest piece of ice embedded in his heart.

“I’ve spend way too long chasing after you and now when I’ve finally got you, there’s no way I’d leave you. Ever.”

Byakuya blinked. His hands finally managed to break free from Renji’s grip and the captain folded them in his lap, earning the other man’s smirk.

“As I said before, the exams are coming in two weeks. The decision whether to attend or not is up to you.”

This was his selfless, cold and composed captain once again, but still Renji felt the huge grin creeping onto his face. The choice is yours.

Even icebergs could be melted. It just needed some time.

…

I am a hopeless romantic, it seems. And also a sadist who likes to see Byakuya breaking ^^. Hope you liked it, because I kind of do. Still not happy with Renji’s soliloquy, though.

Pieces of the Moon

2007-08-12T01:04:19Z

This will be my collection of Bleach drabbles and short fics on pairings ByakuyaRenji and IchimaruKira. I will be using the prompts my best friend gave me. Here comes the first one:

Prompt #4 LSD

Title: Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Renji/Byakuya
Word Count: 172
Warning/s: Uhm…drug abuse ^^?
Summary: Renji’s experiments in the human world.

The candle flames were dancing around the darkened room, swirling at a feverish pace. They shone with thousands shades of red no one had ever seen before and Byakuya let them sink deep into his eyes.

They were lying on the bed and it felt as though they bathed in a bloodied rainbow. The glass shreds on the floor were darting rays of brilliant light that penetrated the whirling mass of crimson. Byakuya absorbed the sight of them, too, and vaguely remembered drinking some beverage. Was it water? Was it wine? Or blood of the unicorn slain in burning forest?

At first he just smiled, when Renji started tickling him with his hair, but soon burst into uncontrollable laughter. Tears were already gathering in the corners of his eyes, when Hell butterflies flew in the room and adorned their glistening bodies.

Renji kissed him and tasted the water and wine and unicorn blood and rainbow and death and something else, which was Byakuya’s.

“I love you, Renji,” Byakuya said and the echo of these words swept over them like a tidal wave.

Renji smiled.

And here the people who sold me this just warned me that I might see spiders on the ceiling.

...

Uhm, so the first one’s over. Liked it? Hated it? Please let me know!

I myself have no experience with the drug, but my sister told me about hers and her boyfriend’s. I feel truly sorry that I wasn’t able to use that part in which the boyfriend saw all the other people as lizards and thus acted as one too – to not stand out in the crowd. Well, maybe next time ^^.

bringing my lj back from the grave

2007-08-11T23:02:30Z

...where it R.I.P-ed for almost a year. I'm not exactly the "please read about my stupid boring everyday life and comment on it" type, but I want to put some bleach fics online and I find ff.net little bit too restricting...well in fact I hate it. So, that's basically it. Glad to be back ^^.

Floating Snowflakes - part 1/2

2006-09-27T01:07:05Z

Part one - Thousands of Pure White Blossoms

Rating: PG

Pairing: Severus Snape/Yamamura Sadako

Summary: Lyrical winter romance between Severus and strange Japanese girl who wears her hair in her face and is hated by everyone. It takes place in the 6th year and it’s sort of AU (suprisingly so %o) and maybe OOC, but this strongely depends on a point of view. A-hem, and BTW, there’s a drama club and a communist party in Hogwarts. You have been warned.

The floating snowflakes
thousands of pure white blossoms
bring the winter chill

She put away a paper filled with writing. No, it didn’t feel right; the picture wasn’t complete. But as for the chill, she could feel it all too well. She pulled the black woolen shawl closer to her body, but the view through the window covered with frost flowers still made her feel cold.
Yet it was still more bearable to watch the dancing snowflakes than to stare at the thick and cold walls, which were separating her from the outside world. From the life…
There was a group of younger students now below her window, building a snowman. She laid down her quill carefully and went at the window. She let her palms rested against the window pane and watched the children play. Their colourful scarves were shinning like a reminiscence of warmer months.
It didn’t take too long and the snowman gained a robust body and a pair of plump hands. A girl wearing a yellowish cap with a big pompom had thrust a broom in one of the snowman’s hands and her messy-haired friend brought a cracked pot and pushed it on the figure’s head with the little more force than was necessary, so the snowman lost his shape and the broom fell of his palm.
Sadako’s lips twitched into a little smile, because the snowman now reminded her a sumo wrestler. But the students put him back in order in no time and then stopped to admire their creation. As soon as they grew tired of it they ran away and the snowbound site had once again become the white wasteland it had been before. The snow had soon covered all the traces of human existence.
The dusk was slowly settling in and windows in the wall on her left side were one by one lighting up, painting yellow rectangles in the snow. She nestled closely against the window and tried to tell apart the silhouettes of three people she saw in the window lit up one floor below.
There were three people sitting around the table, a man and two girls. Her breathing has become more rapid. She couldn’t mistake this man for anyone else. It was professor Snape, the Head of her House. And the girls…the one sitting with her back to Sadako had bright-red hair and used a lot of hand motions during her speech. Due to these facts Sadako recognized her as Ginny Weasley.
She had to ponder about the identity of Snape’s second companion, because there were at least five girls in Hogwarts who wore their black hair in ponytail, but then the black-haired girl brushed an unruly lock out of her eyes with a characteristic gesture Sadako had known from a drama club. On professor Snape’s left side sat Cho Chang.
Professor Snape picked up a paper and started to read its content aloud. Then a lively discussion occurred among the three of them. Sadako thought that it seemed they disagreed on some issue, because Ginny Weasley was viciously pointing her index finger at something on the opposite wall. The conversation afterwards continued for a few more minutes, until professor Snape said something which made the two girls burst into applause.
Then Cho Chang left and came back with three tea mugs. She laid them down on a table and Ginny, who was now half-way facing her, picked one, cringed a little because of the heat and then took a little sip.
Sadako shivered with cold. She would give anything for the chance of being in that warm room, drinking hot tea with people who have deliberately chosen to spend their free time with her… There was a fireplace in her room, but it didn’t work. She was afraid to go to Filch with that and she didn’t want to bother professor Snape, he surely had a lot of work now, with Christmas coming.
She didn’t prevent a single tear from rolling down cheek. The silent sound of the teardrop hitting the floor was the only one in the room.

…

“…so I have read some articles about the activities of our comrades in the Soviet Union and China and I’ve come to this conclusion – we ought to follow their example and carry out something that will undoubtedly bring great good to our organisation – a purge.”
Ginny and Cho changed glances. Severus somehow misinterpreted their action and hastily added:
“Naturally we have to inform the remaining member of the central committee of our party and the remaining member of our party in general, comrade Ernie Macmillan.”
“That’s not what I had in mind. It’s more like I’m interested in what exactly is that… purge,” the red-haired spoke up.
“To call yourself a communist, not knowing such a basic term…”
“I don’t know your resources, comrade, but our materials don’t mention anything like that,” Ginny objected and pointed at the wall behind professor Snape with an accusing finger.
There was a small notice board adorned with three big red paper letters H, C and P (Hogwarts Communist Party). In addition to that there were various newspaper scraps and a huge photograph of Mao Zedong.
Next to the notice board stood a humble bookcase containing a few publications, for example communist Manifest or a treatise Let’s Make Magic, Comrades, written by the Great Mao himself, both in English and Chinese edition. Someone placed a tiny red vase with gilded mistletoe on the bookcase due to the season and the same went for the poinsettia in the corner.
Snape’s eyes skimmed over the notice board and bookcase and then returned to Ginny.
“I see, comrade, but still, such a basic fact! Even a little child knows that a purge is… that a purge is…” professor Snape stopped in the middle of his sentence, “well, it means that… well…what I mean is… it’s just…” With increasing despair he tried to find the answer in the faces of his companions, but failed miserably. Especially comrade Weasley had been seemingly enjoying herself.
“All right, so I don’t know it either. But ignorance is strength.”
“Who said that?” Cho eyed him suspiciously.
“A-hem,” Severus hesitantly cleared his throat, “I have no idea, but I thought it appropriate to mention it.”
“Comrade, I don't want to spoil your enthusiasm, but as a teacher you really shouldn’t support ignorance that much,” Ginny remarked and it certainly wasn’t the first time when Severus snarled something in the lines of ”why on the earth have I allowed her to enter our party, such counter-revolutionary intelligence should be got rid of in the cradle”. In the end he just waved his hand impatiently and said:
“All right. Well then, let’s get back to our subject matter. For our Soviet and Chinese comrades, the purges were something entirely common. In case you don’t believe me I can quote you my resources.”
His comrades stayed in silence, but the disbelief on their faces was so obvious that he immediately put on his square reading glasses and read:
“ …during those years, extensive purges were carried out…” or here: “…no rank escaped the purges,” you see, comrades, this is clearly referring to us, the central committee,“ said professor Snape with a triumphant smile, because the three of them indeed made up the central committee. And also exactly three quarters of the total number of members of their party.
Ginny was ready to once more point out that Severus still hadn’t explained what the purge was about, but Cho chose the exact moment to speak up.
“The purge you say, comrade… I guess it’s not a bad idea after all. I remember seeing a commercial for some cleanser, which said that it would ´purge all the dirt´. And that’s exactly what we need… have you noticed the dreadful state of the scenes in our theatre club? Or the props? And I’d rather not talk about the costumes – they are so dirty that even the lumpenproletariat wouldn’t wear them! Seriously, if we don’t do something about it before the premiere, we certainly won’t make a good impression on our audience.”
“Who cares about what that bunch of counter-revolutionaries thinks anyway,” Severus
tried to object, but Ginny firmly stated: ”I do.”
“And so do I,” Cho joined her and Severus was outvoted. He bravely acknowledged his defeat and finally said:
“So tomorrow we shall summon an exceptional meeting of our central committee, during which we shall carry out the general purge of our scenes, props and costumes.”
His comrades honoured him with applause.

…

Severus was left alone. He was slowly gathering his papers. All his enthusiasm was gone. He felt that all he was trying to build was pointless and incredibly fake. It was like blowing a huge soap bubble, a bubble that one day must inevitably burst.
He glanced at the notice board and bookcase and a small, sad smile crept over his face. It was all very nice, but… it wasn’t true. He didn’t say that it wasn’t fun and that it didn’t give him the chance to have a nice friendly chat about immaterial things from time to time, yet…
There were times when he saw the visions lurking in the darkroom of his suppressed consciousness in which the only thing red was blood, visions, in which he had deserted the only shelter in his life long time ago and now he was running, fleeting away with the hatred on his tracks.
There was a memory of strangely sharp June wind and something white falling to the ground… Those visions had come from some ugly world where no evenings were spent over a cup of warm red tea, where there was no director’s stool, from which he could twice a week help to breathe life into ridiculous characters of even more ridiculous play… a play in a play, isn’t that absurd?
Suddenly he noticed that while lost in his thoughts he moved to the window and was now watching the snowflakes. The floating snowflakes, thousands of pure white blossoms…
He blinked. This wasn’t his thought. He fixed his eyes at the right side of the wall one floor above; there was the only one lit window in the whole wall. He scorned. Even the only one was one too many because as far as he knew, in this wing there were just unused rooms with the dust quietly piling up…
The window didn’t shine as brightly as did his own, but he could still distinguish a dark silhouette looming in the dim light. And a moment later he even recognized the owner of the shadow. Severus twitched in surprise, but then realized that although he had always tried to protect Sadako from people who were hurting her, until this moment he didn’t have the slightest idea about her whereabouts.
Well, he knew that she had a single bedroom somewhere out of the Dungeons, but what he didn’t know was that her dorm surrounded by all those ice-cold rooms. She’s probably freezing out there, he thought and decided to ask her about that.
One of his palms had unwillingly rested against the cold window pane. Sadako mimicked his movement, which created some sort of fragile bond between them.
He regretted that the distance between them didn’t allow him to see the expression on her face. But then he realized that he could still call it a success because the pale oval of her face wasn’t hidden under the veil of her dark hair, which she barely brushed out of her face. Usually she did that only at rehearsals of the drama club – when she was asked to by Cho or himself.
He made an inviting gesture. There’s still some tea left.
She stood still for a while and than slowly shook her head.
Severus felt a growing pressure on his chest. She looked so lost, the only light in the long dark wall and that slow sad gesture. He wasn’t sure whether he was the right person to do that, but he really wanted to cheer her up. But how?
Suddenly he got an idea. It was purely absurd, but then again what in his life wasn’t. He made sure he couldn’t be observed and then raised his hands. He used his index and middle fingers to form mock devil horns on his head.
Sadako was staring at him for while. Then she stepped back from the window and disappeared from his view.

Severus Snape and Yamamura Sadako.

2006-09-27T00:52:15Z

Me, The Eye of the Crow a.k.a. Crow’s Eye a.k.a Aleya a.k.a. The Ultimate Pine Cone (OK, just kiddidng about this one ^^), is proud to announce that she is the inventor of a great pairing - Severus Snape/Sadako Yamamura. Sadako Yamamura’s generally speaking that scary girl from Ringu movies, but the one I’m talking about is just the one from Ringu 0: Birthday, which is the best one of all the Japenese and American Ring(u) movies (but the American Ring 1 is almost catching up) and we can see Sadako portrayed as a pretty shy girl around 18 and all the scary stuff is the doing of her sister? stray piece of personality? well, something like that.

This pairing has its origin in my and one of my friend’s story The Burning Feather about a sexual harassement in Hogwarts, which won’t be ever translated from Czech due to the enormous amount of untraslatable puns and solely Czech cultural alusions. Pity.

BUT the first and so far one and only Severus/Sadako-centred fic in this universe ensues...

Spread the love ^^.
PLUS the fanart: A silhoutte of Severus saving Sadako from a well!

Kai, Rei and Judy Garland

2006-09-26T18:34:11Z

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Kai/Rei

Summary: Maybe it´s just me, but I´ve seen quite a lot of movies, where you could easily recognize the homosexual character by their musical taste - they all listened to Judy Garland. Hence the idea for this fic.

I know it’s probably a piece crap, so feel free to flame me. So... and what about the disclaimer? Tyson, darling, can you come over here? (*with voice full of fake sweetness*)

Tyson: Why?

Me: To do the disclaimer for me, sweetheart.

Me: What? For such a sick pervert like you? Why should I do that?

Me: Because you’re the only character here, you baka! (*irritated*)

Tyson: You forgot about Kai and Rei. They’re just over there and they’re...what the hell are they doing?! Ithinkiamgonnathrow- (*vomits*)

Max (*appearing from nowhere*): You should have said the only *unoccupied* character here. But now when I’ve appeared in this place from nowhere, I’ll do the disclaimer for you.

Me: Arigatou, Maxie!

Max: So, The Eye of the Crow owns neither the song (Somewhere Over the Rainbow, lyrics belongs to E.Y. Harburg) nor us-

Tyson: Thanks Jesus!

Max: -she just borrows us sometimes for her and our fun.

Tyson: Unfortunately. And what do you mean fun?! If this is your idea of fun, you’re the same pervert with twisted mind as she is! (*pointing at the authoress*)

Me: So first of all, it is really impolite to point at someone with your finger, dear. And secondly – if you think that KaixRei stories are disgusting, what would you say about...hmm...for example...TyKa?

Tyson: TyKa? What is it supposed to mean? (*eyeing the authoress very suspiciously*)

Me: You can guess...use your brain, Tyson. (Did I actually use “brain” in one sentence with “Tyson”?!)

Tyson: OK. Ty...this could be me. And Ka...whose name begins on Ka? I don’t know anyone but- noooooooo!!! You couldn’t mean that, pairing me with Mr. Sourpuss!

Me: Well, I would never do such a thing to Kai, but for some incomprehensible reason it’s one of the most favourite BB ships.

Tyson: Eww! I’m afraid I’m gonnaaaaaaa....(*vomits all around*)

Me: Um, I’d better go on with the story. (*sweatdrop*)

~~~

“You know what?” said Max turning to Tyson at his right hand at the table. They were having breakfast in the kitchen, next to the big window which provided them a wonderful view of flowering garden.

When he caught the blue haired boy’s attention he continued:

“Those two-” he nodded his head in direction of Kai and Rei, who had been already training outside, “-would actually fit well together, don’t you think?” he said in unusually pensive manner.

“WHAT?! You couldn’t mean that!” Tyson yelled at poor blonde.

“Calm down Ty, I was only joking. I just wanted to see your reaction,” laughed Max, back in his sugar-high self.

“A joke? Really sick one! I’ve almost lost my appetite,” Tyson said after swallowing a huge chunk of his fourth sandwich.

“I see,” said Max smiling but sighing inwardly, when Tyson continued to mumble to himself “Two boys? My team-mates?! TOGETHER???!!!”

Well, prejudices rule the world...

~~~

Rei caught himself daydreaming again, when he was taking a little walk in the garden. The object of his reverie was still the same – certain slate-haired captain, whom would people who didn’t know him too well describe probably as cold-hearted bastard.

But his team-mates – and we can call them his friends – knew better. They remembered the moments when Kai Hiwatari – although probably unwillingly – showed them that usually so well-hidden part of himself, which took care of them, helped them (and not just in cases of his own profit) and even cheered them up.

Rei really liked that Kai. More friendly, caring and ...loving... what?! Where that came from? The raven haired boy mused quite shocked.

It was not so long ago when Rei finally confessed to himself that he fancied boys and he just couldn’t imagine Kai having the same defect. The neko-jin was really mad at himself for the word “defect” had even crossed his mind, but he still had a little trouble with that sudden change in his life. And Kai was just too perfect for this...

Rei had always had a lot of courage so he thought he would not have too much troubles with making a first step, but he had to be sure. He felt sick when he for some reason suddenly imagined Kai falling with love with Mariah, for example.

She was nice girl and really good friend of his, but the vision of Kai falling for her was just too much.

Rei would rather see Kai with some other guy because it would still leave him a hope that one day...maybe... He shook his head slowly. Well, we’ll see.

While he was returning to the house, where they were staying during the Australian Championship, he heard a beautiful music coming from inside. It sounded somehow familiar. Could it be...no, I don’t mean it’s possible, Rei thought.

“But...YES! It definitely IS a Judy Garland’s song!” The neko-jin exclaimed after he had recognized the words somewhere over the rainbow. But who was the person listening?

Rei rushed into the house and immediately found out that the music was coming from the room he shared with Kai.

His heart was beating madly when he slowly opened the door of their room. Then he froze for a moment because of the view in front of him.

Kai hadn’t noticed his presence yet; he was obviously captivated by the music he was listening to. He sat in comfortable black leather armchair with his eyes closed, his body unknowingly swinging in the slow rhythm and was there a single tear tracing the captain’s cheek?

Rei blinked in surprise. Kai crying? And all the things possible because of some music?! This had to be some kind of optical illusion. He made a step forward for making sure of what he saw.

His movement brought Kai back to reality. Crimson eyes slowly opened, eyeing the intruder in questionable manner.

“So...you listen to Judy Garland?” was all Rei managed to say.

“Apparently,” answered the slate-haired boy dryly.

Rei swallowed.

“And does it mean...does it mean that you are...” The neko-jin was having obvious difficulties with finding the suitable words.

“That I am?” One of Kai’s eyebrows cocked up.

“You know...alike me...”

“What do you mean like you? A boy? Yes, I am, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that before. I also happen to be a beyblade player like you, but again that’s nothing new. Or maybe,” Kai continued in his sarcastic speech, “you could refer to being a neko-jin. Well, let’s take a closer look at this – you see, no overlapping fangs or pointed ears; I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m not one.”

Rei now looked like a beaten kitten. His courage had abandoned him completely.

“I... Sorry. I must have been mistaken. Forgive me that I was wasting your time. Just forget it.” With that the Chinese boy chastely turned to leave.

But the Russian didn’t let him go. He grabbed Rei’s arm and made the other boy face him again.

“No, I will not. I was hoping I would finally be given some explanation for your odd behaviour lately.”

“M-my odd behaviour?” voiced Rei, absolutely stunned.

“Well, tell me when you find another way to describe the long stares you give me when you think I’m not looking and that you blushed like a lovesick schoolgirl when I had caught you doing it; and I’d better not mention the fact you screamed my name from your sleep...” Kai said with a stern face, but he was chuckling inwardly when he saw the raven-haired boy furiously blushing.

“That wasn’t too nice of me, was it?” said Kai softly.

“Well, I lied about the screaming part.”

Rei exhaled with a relief, while his captain continued:

“You didn’t scream it out loud. You were just whispering it.”

Rei’s relief was gone and he hardly managed to say:

“And what...what are you going to do about it?”

“You still didn’t give me an explanation.” Kai voice was still cool.

“So?”

Rei took a deep breath. He couldn’t take it any more. Now was the time.

“I’ve acted so weird around you because I...I love you,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

“What did you say? I didn’t catch it.” Kai’s face displayed no emotions at all.

Rei was sure that the bluenette had to hear him and his indifference made him run out of his temper.

“I SAID I LOVE YOU, KAI HIWATARI!” he yelled.

“Feel free to mock me, humiliate me or do whatever you like.” Warlikeness in the golden orbs was replaced by a shame after he realized what he just had said and Rei lowered his head, his eyes avoiding his friends’.

The Russian’s expression stayed unchanged when he made one step closer to the other boy.

“So you say I can do whatever I like? Well, that’s a command I’ll gladly obey...” Kai whispered, after closing a distance between them to just a few inches, so their noses were almost touching.

And he kissed him.

When Tyson came back into the house after he and Kenny had been improving his beyblade, he heard some music coming from Kai and Rei’s room.

What is it? He mused, while he was approaching the door of his teammates’ room.

“It sounds like Judy Garland or something alike, but as far as I heard ’bout it it’s music for gay guys only. It doesn’t mean Kai and Rei are gays...or does it?! No, that’s bullshit, I know them for ages; they would never do such a thing. I was just little confused because of that stupid joke Maxie made in the morning,” Tyson said firmly to himself and instantly opened the door.

And then ran away screaming.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.