Birthday present

Tue, 23 Mar 2004 00:10:21 GMT

When I rummaged through My Documents I found an unfinished AkechixTakato fanfic, the last part of my Mirror Images trilogy (I don't know if there'll be the fourth or even the fifth part...). I deserted it more than half-a-year ago, and the original ending has been long vanished from my mind, so I decided to continue writing it with a new ending (which may cause gap with older parts of the fic--and an abrupt end!) as a birthday present, and a commemoration upon the beautiful fanart by our beloved fanartist. Enjoy. (Actually I was thinking of drawing Sensei for you, but then I haven't come up with any idea...)

FALLEN ANGEL NO NEED TO HIDE

Disclaimer: Takato Youichi, Akechi Kengo, Kindaichi Hajime, Chikamiya Reiko, Takato Sr., and Yuzuki Raimu are owned by Amagi Seimaru, Satou Fumiya, and Kanari Youzaburou
Written by tYaS 2003-2004 as a birthday present for lemoneko.
This is a humble attempt to desribe Takato's past (and present). Some original characters were added.

I'd like people to know me as Jigoku no Kugutsushi.
That identity is what's important about me for most people. They don't need to know other things about me.
But there are certain people to whom I want to be known as Takato Youichi.

I have left one of those latter people 3 days ago in a bed in London.

My birth was not something expected, but also not something rejected. I have born out of a love between a woman and a man that somehow decided not to unite themselves in a marriage. The woman was becoming a superstar; a child would only lag her behind, no matter how much he loved that child. The man didn't really need any child, but he couldn't leave a child whose half of its chromosomes were inherited from the woman he'd loved--even when the other half was not his.

My short reunion with my mother has changed my life forever. Although I have never met her again, I was moulded by her. Everything in my life today is because of her.

My father played a part too, of course. But there isn't too much of him that I could remember but that he was a cold man, never one for a warm and loving conversation, hard-working, but he was someone with the most plain and honest heart I know. He had problems in expressing his emotions, for sure. But he had never done any crime, as far as I know, except a crime of loving a woman too much, if that counts. It's only that he had never told me not to perform or partake in any crime.

My teenage years were spent with going to school and learning magic. My father never knew that I had followed in the same steps as my mother--he was too busy to care. Sometimes now I think that he had made himself busy on purpose... so that his mind wouldn't always be filled by the thoughts of my mother.

I lost my virginity when I was 15, to a red-headed man who was my art teacher.
He was a very nice man, slim but strong built, and he adored my magic skills. I had never been too close with anyone of my peer--I had built a world of my own which none of them was interested to get in. They enjoyed it if I showed them some magic tricks, but that's the furthest their interest would go.
While for him, I stood out. He told me that with my black hair and eyes, and pale different colour skin, I had caught his attention since he first laid down his eyes on me.

We first did it in my house. My father was away on a business trip -- like he often did. My first experience was not too pleasant, though, because I accidentally bumped my head to the wooden bedside during what he'd called a 'lesson'. It fucking hurt. And afterwards, he complained that I had been too noisy. He counted that I had screamed for at least 15 times. His remark made me feel very ashamed.
We slept together a couple of times more, but we soon grew tired of our little secret game. We stopped seeing each other.

A half and a year later, my father died.
I found the diaries that he kept, and that was the time I found out the truth about my mother. No, not really finding out. Because deep inside I somehow had known about it. My father's writings were only a means of ensuring what I had understood as an inevitable fact.
A fresh graduate of high school, I decided to go to Italy as a serious disciple of magic, while my friends were getting ready to get into a college, a university, or into a boring day job.
In Italy did I hear about her death. So in a year I turned into an orphan without any relatives to cling to.
No big deal. I was already of age to live by myself. Besides, what did I expect of her? The only thing that made me disappointed was that I hadn't seen her again as a great magician as I had promised her.
But I hate sentimental thoughts. I had to go on, that's what.
I didn't put my foot in any kind of romance while in Italy. I just slept once with a guy whose name I have forgotten. I only remember that he was called Sepp, and he was half German and half Italian. So his first name must be Sebastian. I don't have any idea about his surname. The last thing I heard of him that one month after he'd spent one jolly night with me in bed, he flew to somewhere in South America in a missionary journey. No news about him ever reached me again; probably an anaconda has swallowed him up.
Like I care.
In Italy too did I meet Yuzuki Raimu for the first time.
She was a sweet, nice girl. She was a bit older than me, and she worked as an illustrator. She won a scholarship to study art for a year in Italy. Amused she was to meet a young Japanese lad who spoke bad Japanese, read Japanese with difficulties, and never really thought himself as a Japanese. She didn't blame me, though, she said that's what happened when someone had spent his whole life somewhere far away outside his native country. Friendship grew between us, and she taught me many things about Japan. I speak, read, and think well in Japanese right now is thanks to her.
And we never went further than being friends. She was too good a girl; I was very afraid that I might break or hurt her. And for her, I think, I had been a sweet younger brother, a contemporary substitute for her own brother whom she'd left in Japan.

I set foot in Japan a couple of years later, with the book of magic tricks my mother had made and sent for me as a present, only to find out about the truth behind her tragic death. That's when I turned myself into Jigoku no Kugutsushi to avenge her. Takato Youichi was subdued as a timid, shy, stammering manager with glasses for two years. (I used my real name when I applied for the job, because I hadn't known much about Japan and how to fake papers. I know now. But it's too late.)
I met the two people then. The two people that would always get in my way.
The first one was an annoying kid with a mind as sharp as fuck. He messed up the whole webs I had created to trap my mother's murderers. He ruined my magic performance. He stained my reputation as the puppet master. But after all, we're like twins. We're like two parallel lines that would always run... parallel, never crisscrossing each other.
The second one was more like my mirror image. A clean, perfect bastard. He was like everything I wasn't. When I looked into his eyes, I loathed my image that's reflected in them. I felt small. I felt cold. I felt inferior to him. But then he was just like me. He became a police to, harshly saying, avenge his father.
And then he was--he is--so beautiful. His hair is not black, it's of a colour I can't describe. His bangs wildly fall to his face, and he like to throw them back with his fingers. His eyelashes are long. No matter how he dresses up, he always retains that cute and boyish look, thanks to his eyelashes. Even his glasses don't help.
What I can't believe is that, at 28, he was still a virgin. That is, until I took his innocence away.
I knew it because he was so awkward the first time we had it together.
But he was a quick learner. Before the night ended, he had already turned an expert.

And before I fully realised,
I have fallen in love with him.
I don't know for sure why.
I have said to him that I loved his mind, a mind which is nothing but so similar to mine but only running backwards. But if that's the reason, I could have loved that annoying kid instead, couldn't I?
Maybe it's the warmth of his body. The warmth that makes me feel safe and calm.
Maybe it's his arms. His strong arms which when I'm within their reach, I feel protected.
Maybe it's his kisses. Kisses that make me feel loved when I'm engulfed by them.

I don't know.

I have left him 3 days ago in a bed in London.
And now my mind keeps coming back to him.

I'm standing in front of a mirror, looking at my own reflection. I'm wearing glasses.
I wore glasses too when I was acting as the manager for the Gensou group. It was part of my disguise.
I'm wearing them right now as a disguise too--in half an hour, I'm going back to England in a nice aeroplane. I don't really like the idea someone noticing me in a place I cannot escape from. No matter how great my magic skills, I can't simply vanish from a plane without any proper preparations before. At least I need a parachute. And even if I manage to land, there are more things to face than when I'm up there. I mean, who knows if I land right on a Spanish police station, or, even worse, a heap of dung in a French farm?
The magic show last night was great--everyone loved Maskman, the magician who hides his face behind silly looking masks. Yes, I have to admit that those masks are daft. But they draw attention.
The payment is only enough to keep me hanging out lazily for a month. (They paid the aeroplane tickets and my accommodation, so the money I received was fully for myself.) It's only I don't hang out lazily.
Anyway.
I enjoy performing, and getting on stage in front of people who don't know me and what I have done is an irresistible offer.

And these glasses remind me of him.
When I glimpse into the mirror, I'm half hoping that it's him I see in that.
But of course it's not. It's my own reflection.

I sigh.

I have left him 3 days ago in a bed in London.

Am I coming back to him?
What am I expecting from him?
I have told him that he's not obliged to love me.
I thought it's enough if I was the only one who's in love. He didn't have too. Having him want to get it on with me for a night must be enough.

But it wasn't. It isn't.

3 days after the midnight (and morning) binges, here I am standing in the front of a mirror, thinking of him, wanting him to feel the same way as I do.
I want him to love me.
I want to hear the words from his own mouth.

But I know that it won't be easy.
I know he doesn't think that love and sex always go together. Not like he's experienced in sex. Nor love. But at least I think he thinks sex with me doesn't go together with love to me.
How can his rightful mind tell him that loving a criminal is right?

I take a last glimpse at the glasses-ed face in the mirror.
What did he say about this face?
"The first you I saw. Timid, easy to be scared, stammering. You'd say that it's only one of your mask, but right now I'm wondering whether it's the real Takato."
Yes, lately I have begun to wonder too.
Is it the real me?

It's all his fault. He kissed me first.
He made me fall in love with him.
I didn't want to.
I didn't want to owe anyone anything.
But now it looks like my list of debt is becoming longer and longer.

Bloody hell.
I can't stand this.
My body screams for him.
And as the plane takes off, the feeling that rolls inside me and makes my inside turn upside down is not because of the changing gravity and air pressure.
I miss him.
With all my heart and body.
I miss him.

I feel like I can see one corner of my Jigoku no Kugutsushi mask begin to crack.

And I can't decide what I should do.
On the plane, I try to analyse the whole situation again and again, forward and back, forward and back.
And if I come back to him right now--what should I say? What should I do? What should we do?
He didn't do anything when I left him 3 days ago in that bed in London.
He didn't say things like, "No, don't go. I want you with me."
He didn't drag me back to his hug when I kissed him goodbye.
Maybe he took that kiss as a seal to everything that has happened between us.

For the first time in my life, I shake with fear of the possibility of losing someone.

And I foolishly think that the only way to stop that shaking is to step to his hotel room door and knock it.

"Yes. Wait a minute."
I can hear his voice. He speaks good English. He spent some year in Los Angeles, and I can say that his English is not Engrish.
Well, I hope there's no-one inside there except him.
Because if there is, I will kill him or her at an instant with the small knife I always bring with me.
I'm very bad when I'm jealous.

The door flings open, and my eyes meet his eyes that get widened with surprise.
"Oh! Takato! You're here again? Why, I don't think you're going back."
See? He doesn't think I'll go back.
"Think I'll just drop by." I shrug, trying to appear as calm as I can. "Hey, the weather is fine. Care for a walk?"
He thinks about it for some seconds, then nods. "Alright, wait here. I'll get my coat."
Five minutes later, we're walking down Park Lane. I'm not really sure where we're going, and none of us has talked since we left his hotel room.
He opens the conversation.
"How was Italy?"
"It's great." I'm walking next to him, my hands in my pockets. "The audience was wonderful. They liked me."
"Naturally." He laughs. What does he mean?
"Oh, before I forget. Here's a souvenir." I take a keychain from my right pocket. "If you press it here, it will glow."
"Well, thank you!" He receives it, a smile on his lips. "I don't think you'll remember me..."
He doesn't think I'll remember him.
"I mean, remember to bring me any souvenir..."
Correction too late.
"Have you gone to Jermyn Street?" I ask one of the most boring questions there ever were on Earth.
"Oh, yes. But the prices were out of my boundaries. I didn't buy anything." He laughs. "The flea market suits me far more."
"Frankly speaking, I didn't even know that you could pay for a holiday in London."
"No, don't interfere with my financial matters. Just say that I have enough luck. Honest luck."
"Why, I won't even think that you'll do a corruption or what, Inspector. I know you too well."
"You know me damn well."
"You're too honest to do so."
"Am I?"
He's teasing me. Laughter is all there in his eyes. His eyes that are half covered by his thick, long eyelashes.

A cold wind suddenly blow, sweeping his bangs aside. He laughed. "Whoah." He looked at me and laughed again. "Look, your hair's all amess." I know that my hair is all over my face. (My bangs are even longer than his.) But I don't even stir to move it back to its original place. I just stand like a dumb, coldness in every angle of my body. I want to plea him to make me warm. I want him to put me in his arms. But I just stand like a dumb.
"You can't see anything like that."
He lifts up his right hand, his fingers trying to move my hair back...
And then he stops.
I feel him staring at me, but I don't dare lifting up my face. I try to look away, to an empty Guinness can left by the side of the road by a drunkard.
"Takato..." He begins.
"Shut up," I retort.
"But Taka... Youichi," He continues, his tone softer. "Why crying?"
"SHUT UP." I can't hold myself any longer.
He wipes a tear with his finger.
"If the weather is cold enough, they'll turn into crystals, you know."
"How can you still joke?"
"Because I love to see your annoyed-child expression." I feel like hitting him. It is embarassing enough for a Jigoku no Kugutsushi to cry by the side of the road, and he keeps on teasing me like this! "Come on, crystals are alright. You'll be the most beautiful Snow Queen."
Then all of a sudden, he draws me into his arms--I've been secretly wanting it, but when it really happens, I am way too surprised to feel happy.
"Stupid! What will people think, seeing two Japanese twentysomethings hugging in a public place?"
"Oh, they'll know we're in love."
"We're in LOVE????" I push him back a bit, glaring at him. "How did you come to that conclusion?"
"Are you saying that I'm the only one in love here?" He stabs me with the look in his eyes...
...and I lose control.
I fall on my knees, in the snow, crying even more.
And crying.
"Www-what?" I can hear him saying, "What have I done wrong?"
The world appears white. I don't know whether it's because of the snow or the tears blurring my vision.
Then without looking, I know that he kneels in front of me, circling his arms around me, saying nothing. I hug him back.
And at last,
I feel safe.
I feel safe.

07.2003--03.2004

Testing my Memegen...

Tue, 06 Jan 2004 02:11:03 GMT

My Cooper Temple Clause Gay Partner by jealouslover
name
favourite colour
My TCTC gay partner	Fisher

Created with quill18's MemeGen!

Well I'm the one who made it and I got Fisher...

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Mon, 15 Dec 2003 10:01:01 GMT

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House of Jealous Lovers ~ Take them head on!

Birthday present

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