[FIC] promise of that distant day.
This is what happens when you feel randomly inspired to write something at midnight. Some weird... AU... thing... with immortal/vampire!Koujurou and a constantly reincarnated Date. I have no idea how this came about man, except it just did. OTL
i. for that distant day's promise.
Katakura Koujurou wonders just how many lifetimes he’s been living in.
He tried to count when he first started, counting every time when he starts to feel the weight of the other’s stares on his back, when he decides that he’s lived long enough in this place and needs to travel to another new land so that he can begin his life anew. Years and decades and centuries all thrown and mixed together into the terrible flow of time itself, every single day of his life flashing across his eyes. Huts and cottages have long since been nothing but a memory of the past, old lands and ancient buildings giving way to the towering skyscrapers that so dare try to touch the sky itself-something that was impossible in a time that only seemed like yesterday and eternity to him at the same time.
Sometimes as he walked down the streets of the many places he’s been in, Koujurou could recall the things that once stood before they were abolished and taken down-the stall he used to frequent in, the florist shop that he so liked, the blacksmith that made nothing but the best things he asked for. All of those memories in different times and different lives, now only lying in nowhere else but in the back of his own head.
How many lives has he lived? How many names has he taken in order to continue this meagre existence of his? So many times Koujurou had wondered to himself his reason for going on with this life of his, when solitude constantly clawed in his heart and mind and soul and all he ever wanted to do was to end his own miserable life.
But no, he couldn’t even do that. He could not allow himself to succumb to his own weakness and perish like that, even though it would be nothing but a mercy for him by now. He had to live on no matter what, to continue to push himself for each day and night that came for the sake of that dying promise which he made to the one man who meant everything to him. For him, Koujurou would force himself to go on living even though just about every part of him doesn’t want to anymore-he’s so sick and tired of watching things changing and falling apart and changing again; so many people have died and perished before his eyes, and he’s already lost count of just how many times he’s had to repeat this cycle of living and dying. It’s tiring, so very tiring, but still Koujurou pushes himself forward, in order to fulfil and uphold the promise and vow he had sworn to keep.
‘I, Koujurou, will stay in this world until the day we meet again.’
ii. trying to recall the promise of that distant day.
He feels it again, that sudden urge pounding in his chest-he can feel it overtaking his senses, overlapping everything in his body. The cry of something powerful that’s been shackled and chain; the roar of a beast that longed to be free in a cage that could never be seen. Ikasu Kisei feels all of that and then more-but as always, all he can do is to find himself confused and lost on this strange feeling, this sensation that is both familiar and foreign to him at the same time.
It’s not the first time this has happened; he’s felt it multiple times before, that urge to go somewhere, a place that is lost to him and what he knows. Kisei has seen flashes of things across his eyes before-scenes of bloody battlefields, dead bodies and fierce fighting-images that make little sense to a boy who only knows of peace and comfort. He’s tried to place them before, but everything he tries to look into only leads him to nothing but more questions; the flashes give little to see, and throughout history there’s been so many wars and battles and fights all over the world that Kisei knows it would take him a lifetime and more to ever find that matching scene.
But still he tries nevertheless, constantly driven by that foreign urge-that desire to discover just what is making his heart pound and his senses on alert, that feeling that seems as if somebody is calling him. When he closes his eyes and shuts the world around him, sometimes he can hear that voice reaching out towards him; he can’t hear the words, but he can always feel the burning intensity of that voice. A voice calling out for him, calling him out in a way that could only be described as desperation and need.
Just who is calling for me?
Kisei finds himself wondering that often more and more nowadays, as the urge comes more and more frequently and he can hear the echoes of that voice ringing in his ears and in his head. A noiseless, wordless voice reaching out for him, and that ever-clawing sensation of desire at the bottom of his gut which screams at him to follow that voice and that urge, to let it lead him without question. Nowadays he’s more and more tempted to do it as well, with how things had been at home and how the sensation grows stronger with each passing day-that feeling of emptiness, the feeling of living a life without being whole at all. Kisei knows that its nothing about his missing eye-he got over it long ago-but still something in him yearns and hungers, the need of a beast that could never be satisfied until it finally got what it wanted.
When he feels that aching emptiness inside of him, Kisei hears the trailing echo of a voice he cannot place, a voice that seems so real and yet so intangible at the same time. They were the words of a promise, spoken by a person who should feel familiar but yet was lost to him wholly.
‘We’ll meet again, someday.’
i. for that distant day's promise.
Katakura Koujurou wonders just how many lifetimes he’s been living in.
He tried to count when he first started, counting every time when he starts to feel the weight of the other’s stares on his back, when he decides that he’s lived long enough in this place and needs to travel to another new land so that he can begin his life anew. Years and decades and centuries all thrown and mixed together into the terrible flow of time itself, every single day of his life flashing across his eyes. Huts and cottages have long since been nothing but a memory of the past, old lands and ancient buildings giving way to the towering skyscrapers that so dare try to touch the sky itself-something that was impossible in a time that only seemed like yesterday and eternity to him at the same time.
Sometimes as he walked down the streets of the many places he’s been in, Koujurou could recall the things that once stood before they were abolished and taken down-the stall he used to frequent in, the florist shop that he so liked, the blacksmith that made nothing but the best things he asked for. All of those memories in different times and different lives, now only lying in nowhere else but in the back of his own head.
How many lives has he lived? How many names has he taken in order to continue this meagre existence of his? So many times Koujurou had wondered to himself his reason for going on with this life of his, when solitude constantly clawed in his heart and mind and soul and all he ever wanted to do was to end his own miserable life.
But no, he couldn’t even do that. He could not allow himself to succumb to his own weakness and perish like that, even though it would be nothing but a mercy for him by now. He had to live on no matter what, to continue to push himself for each day and night that came for the sake of that dying promise which he made to the one man who meant everything to him. For him, Koujurou would force himself to go on living even though just about every part of him doesn’t want to anymore-he’s so sick and tired of watching things changing and falling apart and changing again; so many people have died and perished before his eyes, and he’s already lost count of just how many times he’s had to repeat this cycle of living and dying. It’s tiring, so very tiring, but still Koujurou pushes himself forward, in order to fulfil and uphold the promise and vow he had sworn to keep.
‘I, Koujurou, will stay in this world until the day we meet again.’
ii. trying to recall the promise of that distant day.
He feels it again, that sudden urge pounding in his chest-he can feel it overtaking his senses, overlapping everything in his body. The cry of something powerful that’s been shackled and chain; the roar of a beast that longed to be free in a cage that could never be seen. Ikasu Kisei feels all of that and then more-but as always, all he can do is to find himself confused and lost on this strange feeling, this sensation that is both familiar and foreign to him at the same time.
It’s not the first time this has happened; he’s felt it multiple times before, that urge to go somewhere, a place that is lost to him and what he knows. Kisei has seen flashes of things across his eyes before-scenes of bloody battlefields, dead bodies and fierce fighting-images that make little sense to a boy who only knows of peace and comfort. He’s tried to place them before, but everything he tries to look into only leads him to nothing but more questions; the flashes give little to see, and throughout history there’s been so many wars and battles and fights all over the world that Kisei knows it would take him a lifetime and more to ever find that matching scene.
But still he tries nevertheless, constantly driven by that foreign urge-that desire to discover just what is making his heart pound and his senses on alert, that feeling that seems as if somebody is calling him. When he closes his eyes and shuts the world around him, sometimes he can hear that voice reaching out towards him; he can’t hear the words, but he can always feel the burning intensity of that voice. A voice calling out for him, calling him out in a way that could only be described as desperation and need.
Just who is calling for me?
Kisei finds himself wondering that often more and more nowadays, as the urge comes more and more frequently and he can hear the echoes of that voice ringing in his ears and in his head. A noiseless, wordless voice reaching out for him, and that ever-clawing sensation of desire at the bottom of his gut which screams at him to follow that voice and that urge, to let it lead him without question. Nowadays he’s more and more tempted to do it as well, with how things had been at home and how the sensation grows stronger with each passing day-that feeling of emptiness, the feeling of living a life without being whole at all. Kisei knows that its nothing about his missing eye-he got over it long ago-but still something in him yearns and hungers, the need of a beast that could never be satisfied until it finally got what it wanted.
When he feels that aching emptiness inside of him, Kisei hears the trailing echo of a voice he cannot place, a voice that seems so real and yet so intangible at the same time. They were the words of a promise, spoken by a person who should feel familiar but yet was lost to him wholly.
‘We’ll meet again, someday.’