[Fic] Amatsuki - TsuyukusaHeihachi - Cruel
Disclaimer:
Amatsuki and its characters belong to Shinobu Takayama.
Notes:
This is the translation of a fic I wrote for sakoni during the kink meme I organized in April 2010. The theme was UST/regrets/separation.
Warning:
Death fic. Major angsting ahead.
Tsuyukusa takes a glimpse of the room through the tiny window, and winces.
Utsubushi mistakes it for disgust and starts whispering reproaches and philosophical speeches as boring as he is on human nature, and the beauty of the ephemeral, like a flower.
Tsuyukusa shuts him up by whacking him with his staff.
No, it's not like a flower. Not at all, and only a stupid tengu with no sensibility whatsoever could not understand this.
When flowers wilt on his tree, he's sad, of course, of seeing lose their delicate grace, but he knows they'll be back the next year, and the year after that, and the year after that one.
Heihachi won't come back. He's just a stupid human, used in barely a few decades of life, and when Tsuyukusa looses him, soon, it'll be forever.
Bonten watches him silently, with his horrible look that knows, that knew long before Tsuyukusa himself understood it, but he doesn't say anything, and Tsuyukusa can't find the strength to start an argument.
A few minutes before dawn, Bonten leaves him alone in Heihachi's small garden, and drags Utsubushi after him.
Tsuyukusa sneaks into the room, chases the bugs and the dust on the parquet away, replaces the scented leaves that dried on the table and bends over the bed. He observes Heihachi's face, wrinkled like an old trunk, like a dried apple, listens to the labored inspirations and brushes his fingers against a hollow cheek, tries to convey some vitality from his sap to this worn-out flesh.
Heihachi raises an emaciated arm to mirror the gesture, and Tsuyukusa rubs his face against the old hand, rustles his hair against the tips of the fingers and sighs softly.
Why?
Why so soon, when they'd just found the time to understand each other, why now, when they have so many things left to tell each other, why forever?
Heihachi opens his mouth to answer something soft, something nice, something soothing, but only a rale gets out of his lips.
Tsuyukusa bends closer and kisses him, to keep what little life he has left from flying away. Heihachi's tongue tastes bitter and sad, but Tsuyukusa sees a glint of his own body's freshness in Heihachi's eyes, and that's all that matters.
Tsuyukusa stands up slowly, regretfully. Heihachi smiles at him before closing his eyes, and Tsuyukusa understands that this will be the last time he does.
He grabs Heihachi's hand and squeezes it desperately against his cheek.
He understands, he understands what Bonten meant when he warned him that the kindest humans are the cruelest of all, and he whishes he could cry, drain himself from all the water in his body to crumble into dust together with Heihachi.
Amatsuki and its characters belong to Shinobu Takayama.
Notes:
This is the translation of a fic I wrote for sakoni during the kink meme I organized in April 2010. The theme was UST/regrets/separation.
Warning:
Death fic. Major angsting ahead.
Tsuyukusa takes a glimpse of the room through the tiny window, and winces.
Utsubushi mistakes it for disgust and starts whispering reproaches and philosophical speeches as boring as he is on human nature, and the beauty of the ephemeral, like a flower.
Tsuyukusa shuts him up by whacking him with his staff.
No, it's not like a flower. Not at all, and only a stupid tengu with no sensibility whatsoever could not understand this.
When flowers wilt on his tree, he's sad, of course, of seeing lose their delicate grace, but he knows they'll be back the next year, and the year after that, and the year after that one.
Heihachi won't come back. He's just a stupid human, used in barely a few decades of life, and when Tsuyukusa looses him, soon, it'll be forever.
Bonten watches him silently, with his horrible look that knows, that knew long before Tsuyukusa himself understood it, but he doesn't say anything, and Tsuyukusa can't find the strength to start an argument.
A few minutes before dawn, Bonten leaves him alone in Heihachi's small garden, and drags Utsubushi after him.
Tsuyukusa sneaks into the room, chases the bugs and the dust on the parquet away, replaces the scented leaves that dried on the table and bends over the bed. He observes Heihachi's face, wrinkled like an old trunk, like a dried apple, listens to the labored inspirations and brushes his fingers against a hollow cheek, tries to convey some vitality from his sap to this worn-out flesh.
Heihachi raises an emaciated arm to mirror the gesture, and Tsuyukusa rubs his face against the old hand, rustles his hair against the tips of the fingers and sighs softly.
Why?
Why so soon, when they'd just found the time to understand each other, why now, when they have so many things left to tell each other, why forever?
Heihachi opens his mouth to answer something soft, something nice, something soothing, but only a rale gets out of his lips.
Tsuyukusa bends closer and kisses him, to keep what little life he has left from flying away. Heihachi's tongue tastes bitter and sad, but Tsuyukusa sees a glint of his own body's freshness in Heihachi's eyes, and that's all that matters.
Tsuyukusa stands up slowly, regretfully. Heihachi smiles at him before closing his eyes, and Tsuyukusa understands that this will be the last time he does.
He grabs Heihachi's hand and squeezes it desperately against his cheek.
He understands, he understands what Bonten meant when he warned him that the kindest humans are the cruelest of all, and he whishes he could cry, drain himself from all the water in his body to crumble into dust together with Heihachi.