To Nebulia, from Iambic ♥
Title: A Reason
Author: iambickilometer
Recipient: nebulia
Series: XXXHolic
Characters/Pairing: Haruka, Shizuka, other minor roles.
Rating: G
Author's Notes/Warnings [if any]: late, and for this I apologise profusely. I hope this is what you had in mind.
Haruka loves baseball, but even as a very young boy Shizuka simply can't bothered. He goes with his grandfather when required, because it's his duty as a grandson, but he never expresses interest, never cares one way or another if the Tigers lose or win. Haruka recognises this, and continues to tow Shizuka to each game - but they go out for okonimiyaki afterward, and Shizuka seems to enjoy that.
Haruka loves his son, but understands the man can be quite dense at times. For instance, he doesn't seem to understand Shizuka's expressions at all. Both parents, incurably modern businesspeople, find their son utterly unfathomable, and so they leave him gratefully in Haruka's care. So until Shizuka begins school, he spends his days writing haiku and proverbs with a brush too large for his fingers, attempting to bend his grandfather's training bow, listening to tales of the otherworldly. And going to see baseball games.
In a stark contrast to the serious and tacit Shizuka, the boy's kudan is a most loquacious creature. He of course doesn't speak to Haruka - not in words, anyway - but makes appearances for the sole purpose of whispering into his charge's ear. He likes baseball, and sits beside Shizuka at each game, concentrating intently on the action below while Shizuka stares up at the sky, or at the spectators across the field, or at nothing at all.
--
Shizuka is nine years old with two months to spare the day that Haruka collapses in the temple yard, sweeping leaves. When he wakes up in a hospital bed, the first pair of eyes he meets belong to his young grandson's kudan, hovering overhead and smiling down at him. "Shall I tell him you're doing better now?" the nurse inquires, an eye to the being overhead.
"I would rather tell him myself," Haruka replies, winking at her.
"I'll bring him in, then." Then the nurse bustles out, to fetch Shizuka and probably attend to the other hundred thousand tasks that need doing in a hospital.
"When you're better, you ought to take him to a baseball game."
Haruka returns the kudan's smile, lifts both eyebrows. He does not question why Shizuka's kudan has begun speaking to him now. "That would be rather self-indulgent, don't you think?"
The kudan shakes his head. "Shizuka likes doing things for the people he cares about. Escorting you to a baseball game would be the perfect opportunity for him. You know this already, grandfather." He bows, folding in on himself, and then vanishes as if he never was there at all.
--
The day Haruka comes back from the hospital, Shizuka produces stadium tickets before Haruka can broach the subject himself. "There's a game tomorrow," Shizuka says, holding out the two slips of white paper. "Do you want to go?"
Haruka grins, sitting up from the pillows piled thoughtfully on the couch. "I would love to."
--
For three more years, grandfather and grandson follow the Tigers religiously. The day after Haruka dies, Shizuka sweeps the leaves from the temple walkways and clears his mind of everything. He does not summon his kudan, but his kudan shows up just the same, crinkling the fallen leaves with delicate feet. Boy and kudan shuffle through the autumn day in a different sort of silence than Shizuka is accustomed to. Even the kudan says very little.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, Shizuka sets the broom aside. He surveys the walkways that have been clear for several hours, and then turns crisply and walks out of the temple, into the bustling world of Hanshin.
He walks seven blocks, concentrating his whole energy on each footstep, each move precisely planned and followed. He nearly walks into a man passing by with a kudan like a dog, and is stopped only by his own kudan tugging at him from behind.
"I apologise," Shizuka says, bowing.
"For what?" the man asks. "You'll have to excuse me; I'm afraid I'm blind. If you did something quiet, I have no way to know."
"I nearly walked into you," Shizuka clarifies.
"Then there is no harm done." The man smiles, adjusts the dark glasses that might have given his disability away before. "Are you preoccupied over some matter or another?"
Shizuka nods, then catches himself. "Yes."
"Walking helps, as I am sure you have noticed," the man says kindly. "Or perhaps a distraction."
"Thank you," Shizuka says, meaning it.
They continue walking, in opposite directions. Eventually Shizuka's footsteps lead him to a familiar building, and for a while he stands there, absorbing the sounds of the crowds, the excited sports fans, the cries of an ardent nation. This was his grandfather's element, he knows; Doumeki Haruka lived for the living, the liveliness of a crowd. Doumeki Shizuka always preferred the sound of a ball struck perfectly, the absolute silence of a winning flight.
He stands there listening for a long while. Eventually, he walks home again.
Author: iambickilometer
Recipient: nebulia
Series: XXXHolic
Characters/Pairing: Haruka, Shizuka, other minor roles.
Rating: G
Author's Notes/Warnings [if any]: late, and for this I apologise profusely. I hope this is what you had in mind.
Haruka loves baseball, but even as a very young boy Shizuka simply can't bothered. He goes with his grandfather when required, because it's his duty as a grandson, but he never expresses interest, never cares one way or another if the Tigers lose or win. Haruka recognises this, and continues to tow Shizuka to each game - but they go out for okonimiyaki afterward, and Shizuka seems to enjoy that.
Haruka loves his son, but understands the man can be quite dense at times. For instance, he doesn't seem to understand Shizuka's expressions at all. Both parents, incurably modern businesspeople, find their son utterly unfathomable, and so they leave him gratefully in Haruka's care. So until Shizuka begins school, he spends his days writing haiku and proverbs with a brush too large for his fingers, attempting to bend his grandfather's training bow, listening to tales of the otherworldly. And going to see baseball games.
In a stark contrast to the serious and tacit Shizuka, the boy's kudan is a most loquacious creature. He of course doesn't speak to Haruka - not in words, anyway - but makes appearances for the sole purpose of whispering into his charge's ear. He likes baseball, and sits beside Shizuka at each game, concentrating intently on the action below while Shizuka stares up at the sky, or at the spectators across the field, or at nothing at all.
--
Shizuka is nine years old with two months to spare the day that Haruka collapses in the temple yard, sweeping leaves. When he wakes up in a hospital bed, the first pair of eyes he meets belong to his young grandson's kudan, hovering overhead and smiling down at him. "Shall I tell him you're doing better now?" the nurse inquires, an eye to the being overhead.
"I would rather tell him myself," Haruka replies, winking at her.
"I'll bring him in, then." Then the nurse bustles out, to fetch Shizuka and probably attend to the other hundred thousand tasks that need doing in a hospital.
"When you're better, you ought to take him to a baseball game."
Haruka returns the kudan's smile, lifts both eyebrows. He does not question why Shizuka's kudan has begun speaking to him now. "That would be rather self-indulgent, don't you think?"
The kudan shakes his head. "Shizuka likes doing things for the people he cares about. Escorting you to a baseball game would be the perfect opportunity for him. You know this already, grandfather." He bows, folding in on himself, and then vanishes as if he never was there at all.
--
The day Haruka comes back from the hospital, Shizuka produces stadium tickets before Haruka can broach the subject himself. "There's a game tomorrow," Shizuka says, holding out the two slips of white paper. "Do you want to go?"
Haruka grins, sitting up from the pillows piled thoughtfully on the couch. "I would love to."
--
For three more years, grandfather and grandson follow the Tigers religiously. The day after Haruka dies, Shizuka sweeps the leaves from the temple walkways and clears his mind of everything. He does not summon his kudan, but his kudan shows up just the same, crinkling the fallen leaves with delicate feet. Boy and kudan shuffle through the autumn day in a different sort of silence than Shizuka is accustomed to. Even the kudan says very little.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, Shizuka sets the broom aside. He surveys the walkways that have been clear for several hours, and then turns crisply and walks out of the temple, into the bustling world of Hanshin.
He walks seven blocks, concentrating his whole energy on each footstep, each move precisely planned and followed. He nearly walks into a man passing by with a kudan like a dog, and is stopped only by his own kudan tugging at him from behind.
"I apologise," Shizuka says, bowing.
"For what?" the man asks. "You'll have to excuse me; I'm afraid I'm blind. If you did something quiet, I have no way to know."
"I nearly walked into you," Shizuka clarifies.
"Then there is no harm done." The man smiles, adjusts the dark glasses that might have given his disability away before. "Are you preoccupied over some matter or another?"
Shizuka nods, then catches himself. "Yes."
"Walking helps, as I am sure you have noticed," the man says kindly. "Or perhaps a distraction."
"Thank you," Shizuka says, meaning it.
They continue walking, in opposite directions. Eventually Shizuka's footsteps lead him to a familiar building, and for a while he stands there, absorbing the sounds of the crowds, the excited sports fans, the cries of an ardent nation. This was his grandfather's element, he knows; Doumeki Haruka lived for the living, the liveliness of a crowd. Doumeki Shizuka always preferred the sound of a ball struck perfectly, the absolute silence of a winning flight.
He stands there listening for a long while. Eventually, he walks home again.