katikat | (fic) Maybe One Day

Crossposted with

harutoki_yaoi

Title: Maybe One Day
Author: KatiKat
Fandom: Harukanaru Toki no Naka de
Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply here.
Pairing: Tomomichi
Warnings: Sad, Depressive
Summary:

30_kisses's Challenge #22 "Craddle"
Notes: A big thank-you goes to my wonderful beta

yami_tai! *smooches*

Maybe One Day

by KatiKat

I've been gone for two days to deal with the bandits in the South passes... only two days... how could everything go so wrong in such a short period of time?

I run down the street, the frozen earth cracking under my shoes. People are turning their heads and watching because General Tachibana doesn't usually run and when he does, there is definitely trouble brewing somewhere. I turn the corner and the Fujiwara residence appears in front of me. Seeing the man waiting at the open door, I quicken my pace.

Takamura-san has been the steward of the Fujiwara family since I can remember. He always seemed old, wrinkled and frail to me, but it seems that until today, I never understood the meaning of these words. There is a painfully anxious expression on his face and he stands slumped, his whole body bent and twisted as if the years have finally caught up with him.

"Tomomasa-dono," he welcomes me eagerly, stepping out of the door and reaching for me.

I take his hand in mine. It's cold and shaking. "Takamura-san, how is he?" I ask quietly, breathless from my run, as we step through the doorway and the young gatekeeper closes the carved wooden door behind us.

The old man shakes his head, his white hair tied in a painful looking knot at the nape of his head. "Bad, Tomomasa-dono," Takamura answers, his voice like the rustle of dry leaves falling to the ground. "Really bad. I haven't seen him in such a state since his mother died."

In my mind, the picture of a lonely, desperate boy appears, the Takamichi I met all those years ago, lost and forlorn. My heart clenches. "Where is he?"

Takamura sighs. "In his room," he answers. "He hasn't left it ever since..." He looks up at me and there is a desperate hope in his eyes. "Please, Tomomasa-dono, if anybody can help him, then it's you. Please, help our young master."

I squeeze the frail hand in mine. "I will try, Takamura-san," I answer honestly, not wanting to give the man false hope.

The man nods wisely. "Then we can't ask more."

I release him then start walking towards the large house covered in mourning white, my previous haste forgotten. What should I tell him? How can I relieve such a deep pain?

The servants move silently like mice around the house, their face shadowed, eyes pained. They'd liked Minako-sama from the moment Takamichi brought his bride home. The girl had such a bright presence and was so much in love with their young master that even though Takamichi seemed rather reluctant and maybe even uncomfortable about his marriage they couldn't help but love her and give her their complete devotion, taking their master's awkward reaction for the nervousness of a groom-to-be. Minako brought light to the residence that had been too dark and quiet since Takamichi's mother died. How could Takamichi not love her? Everybody seemed to like the petite girl, who made them comfortable with her mere presence... Even I, the most severe of judges, deemed her worthy of my young friend. And when she became pregnant... even the Emperor rejoiced with his Minister.

And now they were both dead... Minako and the child that didn't even get the chance to cry out once, to take one breath. Takamichi's wife died in childbirth and I was miles and miles away when it happened...

My footsteps ring hollow on the veranda as I round the corner, heading towards Takamichi's bedroom. The paper door is open, allowing the icy winter air to penetrate the room. I slow down, then stop as I reach the entrance and glance inside. At the scene that meets my eyes I feel my innards coil with pain.

Takamichi is kneeling at the low writing table, a piece of parchment spread on its surface. There is a brush in his hand, completely forgotten, the black ink running down his fingers and dripping on the empty scroll. He is clad only in a simple yukata, his left shoulder bare where the cloth has slid down, his hair looks disheveled, messy and his glasses are missing too. But it's the expression on his face that makes my heart almost stop.

His skin is snow white, his lips almost blue from the cold and there are deep dark circles under eyes that hold a blank, faraway look; the expression of a boy once again alone in the wide world.

"Takamichi," I whisper, not wanting to startle him, but he doesn't react at all to my presence.

I step inside, sliding the door closed, and cross the space that separates us. I kneel down next to him and whisper his name again. When he doesn't react again, I reach out and touch his chin gently to turn his head towards me. I was right, his skin feels like ice.

"You little fool," I say softly, gently, and grab the blanket that lays untouched on the futon behind him, then throw it around his shoulders.

Only now does he blink slowly, finally noticing my presence. His rigid posture breaks and his shoulders slump in a gesture of defeat.

I remove the brush from his hand and taking a piece of parchment, I wipe the black ink from his fingertips as best as I can, keeping my moves slow and non-threatening. I can't help but feel that should I move too fast or touch him too hard, he would shatter into thousands of shards that not even I would be able to put back together.

He watches my taking care of his dirty fingers absentmindedly, letting me do as I wish. When I finish, I carefully pull him away from the table where he must have been kneeling for endless hours and towards the futon spread on the ground just a couple of feet away. He hisses quietly through his teeth as his cramped and frozen muscles protest but he lets me handle him and doesn't complain at all, too numb to react.

I sit down on the futon and pull him closer so that he leans against my chest. I wrap the blanket and my arms around him tightly, giving him my warmth in an attempt to unfreeze more than his cold body. I hope that my proximity will help him realize that he is not alone that he still has someone who cares deeply for him.

We sit there for what feels like hours. I keep silent, knowing that no words can heal such a deep pain. I rock him gently like a small child and slowly, he starts to shiver violently, hypothermia making itself known. His teeth chatter so loudly that I can hear it clearly but despite the shivers that wrack his body, he seems to melt into me, pressing himself as close as possible as if I am the only source of warmth left in his world.

"Go... gone... Th-they are g-gone," he whispers finally in a broken voice between two gasps.

I rock him and kiss the crown of his head gently. "I know," I say and for the first time I notice how bare his room is - the cradle he brought out, a beautiful carved thing, a piece of family history he planned to give his wife as a present after the baby was born, was gone. I make a mental note to ask Takamura-san about it later and return my attention back to my young friend who seems to shrink into himself in my arms.

He is shaking and shuddering, his attention focused inwards, an empty look in his eyes. I don't know what to do, how to make it better. So I wind my arms tighter around him and take his ink stained hands in mine. They are so cold.

He looks down at our intertwined fingers and seeing the black stains, he blinks in surprise as if seeing them for the first time. "N-need to... letter... the Emp-emperor..." he stutters, his teeth chattering. "Minako's family and..." he faltered and bowed his head, bringing his knees to his chest as if trying to hide from the cruel world until he looks like a small shaking ball of desperation.

I make a soft, shushing noise and rock him gently from side to side like a child plagued by horrendous nightmare. But somehow, he seems to wither right in front of my eyes and fear pierces my heart. This... Takamichi's grief... it goes beyond anything I'd expected when I heard the news. Did he really love her that much? His devotion to her was unmistakable but... could his pain over her death go that deep?

And then I remember the scene that I encountered just minutes ago, him sitting there, oblivious to the winter cold and my fear turns to horror. How long has he been sitting there with his heart hurting so much that he didn't feel the pain in his body? And how long would he keep sitting there if I hadn't come? Does his desperation have such deep roots that he would hurt himself intentionally to escape it?

Just the thought makes me shudder in rhythm with the shivers that run through his cold body. I press my lips to his tangled hair and I feel him seek solace on my gesture, in my arms. Somehow, my mere presence seems to make him relax muscle after muscle and he presses closer to me and turns his head into my neck, closing his dry eyes while painful, body wracking sobs tear from his throat. This unconscious gesture only strengthens the resolve that blossomed in my heart the moment I realized how deep the abyss was that opened under my friend's feet.

And with this resolve, the words I couldn't find come and pass my lips in a soft, caring voice while I keep rocking him from side to side. "Don't worry about it. Don't worry about anything. I'm here. I'll take care of everything. I will send an official message to the Emperor and to Minako-san's family too. And to your subordinates. I will take care of the funeral too. You don't have to think about it. Just rest and eat something. And sleep. I will be here. Nothing will disturb you. I will take care of you. And everything will be better soon. I won't leave you. I will stay right here, with you..."

I talk and talk and the words are not important anymore. I promise myself that I would rather go hoarse than stop talking because just the sound of my voice seems to make him relax, calm him down.

And as I talk about the first snowdrops that will appear soon and bring spring and joy back in our lives, his shivers start to disappear bit by bit and his breath deepens, his sobs turning into hiccups and sad hitches. Slowly, his body grows heavy, as my friend surrenders to the demands of sleep. But not even then do I stop rocking him or talking.

And when he whispers a silent, hoarse "I love you" in his sleep, I can't help but imagine what it must feel like to be the object of such a deep affection.

Maybe one day, I will find such a love too.

Maybe one day...

The End