[craufurd]
IGNIS FATUUS
by ukefied
It comes again, as it comes year after year. The aching, the emptiness, the sense of betrayal... Shindou Hikaru retreats into all of these things, withdrawing from the world in general because they do not understand. He doesn't want to see anyone; he can't see anyone.
The flags herald its onset. He's fine until they are hoisted. He hasn't forgotten, but he doesn't notice. And then he's on his way home and he'll see them: Fish all the colors of the rainbow, waving in the wind -- and he'll realize what day it is.
May fifth is the day Hikaru literally lost a part of himself.
***
The first year, Hikaru was desperate. Because Sai can't just disappear forever. If he could do that, he would have disappeared centuries ago! So he had to be around somewhere, and Hikaru had to find him. Hikaru had so much to tell him -- about Hokuto, about Touya, about how sorry he was.
Hikaru saw things that week. Strange lights here, wispy robes there. He led Isumi along on an inexplicable fifty-yard-dash, chasing what turned out to be a woman with traditional long, black hair.
"Shindou," Isumi had ventured, "are you okay?"
No, he wasn't.
***
When he asked, Waya looked at him as though he'd suggested the sky was green.
"You want to what?" the other pro demanded, scrunching his face up in confusion.
All Hikaru could think of was a lonely spirit wandering the earth -- a lonely spirit that he had to find again. "I want us all to get together and play Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai," he repeated.
"Are you serious?" Waya didn't wait for the confirmation. "Shindou, that's a stupid kids's game."
"Maybe," Hikaru admitted, looking out the window at the clouds. Some of them looked broken apart; maybe Sai was using them as stairs?
***
Can you hear my voice?
"YES!" Hikaru shouts, bolting upright and looking 'round the room. It's empty, moonlit. The window is open and the curtains sway in the night breeze.
He's alone.
His throat hurts; he swallows over a huge lump of sorrow.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, afraid to speak any louder lest his voice betray him. "I just want to tell you that I'm sorry."
Sai never answers this plea.
Why won't he give Hikaru this one last peace?
***
That afternoon, he buys a package of loose leaf paper and a lighter. He sits at his kitchen table in the sticky heat of the dead of night and burns the paper in the ashtray he keeps for Kaga's visits. The corners curl and the blue lines disappear and the wisps of smoke ride the rising heat to the ceiling. It's superstitious and silly but all he has left. He watches the tendrils do as they wish and waits and listens and hopes.
Hikaru wants to be haunted.
~fin.
by ukefied
It comes again, as it comes year after year. The aching, the emptiness, the sense of betrayal... Shindou Hikaru retreats into all of these things, withdrawing from the world in general because they do not understand. He doesn't want to see anyone; he can't see anyone.
The flags herald its onset. He's fine until they are hoisted. He hasn't forgotten, but he doesn't notice. And then he's on his way home and he'll see them: Fish all the colors of the rainbow, waving in the wind -- and he'll realize what day it is.
May fifth is the day Hikaru literally lost a part of himself.
***
The first year, Hikaru was desperate. Because Sai can't just disappear forever. If he could do that, he would have disappeared centuries ago! So he had to be around somewhere, and Hikaru had to find him. Hikaru had so much to tell him -- about Hokuto, about Touya, about how sorry he was.
Hikaru saw things that week. Strange lights here, wispy robes there. He led Isumi along on an inexplicable fifty-yard-dash, chasing what turned out to be a woman with traditional long, black hair.
"Shindou," Isumi had ventured, "are you okay?"
No, he wasn't.
***
When he asked, Waya looked at him as though he'd suggested the sky was green.
"You want to what?" the other pro demanded, scrunching his face up in confusion.
All Hikaru could think of was a lonely spirit wandering the earth -- a lonely spirit that he had to find again. "I want us all to get together and play Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai," he repeated.
"Are you serious?" Waya didn't wait for the confirmation. "Shindou, that's a stupid kids's game."
"Maybe," Hikaru admitted, looking out the window at the clouds. Some of them looked broken apart; maybe Sai was using them as stairs?
***
Can you hear my voice?
"YES!" Hikaru shouts, bolting upright and looking 'round the room. It's empty, moonlit. The window is open and the curtains sway in the night breeze.
He's alone.
His throat hurts; he swallows over a huge lump of sorrow.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, afraid to speak any louder lest his voice betray him. "I just want to tell you that I'm sorry."
Sai never answers this plea.
Why won't he give Hikaru this one last peace?
***
That afternoon, he buys a package of loose leaf paper and a lighter. He sits at his kitchen table in the sticky heat of the dead of night and burns the paper in the ashtray he keeps for Kaga's visits. The corners curl and the blue lines disappear and the wisps of smoke ride the rising heat to the ceiling. It's superstitious and silly but all he has left. He watches the tendrils do as they wish and waits and listens and hopes.
Hikaru wants to be haunted.
~fin.