Prompt: Mai comforting Naru (but of course, with me being me, I couldn’t possibly leave it as sweet as it sounds)
-:-:-:-:-
Winter Wind
Shadows—endless shadows followed him around everywhere. Not just his own, but also of those around him. From those who he considered his comrades. From those he did not know. From those he left behind.
From the one he killed.
He wished for them to disappear, for he to be rid of a burden he had carried throughout his whole life. He wished not to see them lurking at every corner he rounded, every route he took.
He wished for them to disappear.
But not like this.
Everything you seek must be adequately paid for. Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.
He wished for his tormentors to be gone, for darkness to loosen its clutch on his bruised neck.
And it did. After a lifetime of strangling him, of pushing him to the depths of an endless abyss, of drowning him under the coldest seas—it set him free.
And so he was never to seek again—never
see
again. Those shadows disappeared at the cost of his sight.
-:-:-:-:-
Two months ago, September 19
“You’ve killed someone, haven’t you?”
The voice rang loud in his ears despite its slight volume. It came from behind him, and he stopped in his tracks to turn around to see who it was that accused him.
It was an old woman who was sitting on a battered carpet at the edge of an alleyway, just beside the convenience store he came out of a while ago. She wore nondescript clothes, torn at the edges and faded in some places. She had no shoes and yet she had jewelry on her neck, around her wrists and on all of her fingers. There was a deck of worn cards in front of her.
“You’ve killed someone,” she repeated.
“No I have not,” he replied, looking straight at her eyes. They were grey, or brown or blue—he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what color they were.
“God has spoken and God shall exact His justice,” said the old woman, shuffling her deck, the crystals on her bracelets clinking against each other. She took one card from the deck and showed it to him—the ace of spades, then she said faintly, “You who killed his own blood must face the wrath of God.” “Wh—” “ … I'm so sorry.”
-:-:-:-:-
Darkness was his only friend. It had been with him in the memories he could call his first, from the days gone by that he spent with his biological family. Inside the house, inside his parents, inside him. Darkness inhabited everywhere he went and everywhere he touched and everywhere he wanted to be.
Strangely, his brother was unaffected through it all. Gene shined brighter than any star he knew, than anything beyond this universe. He gave him light and warmth and laughter and joy—everything darkness could not provide.
And it was all gone in just a wisp of a whisper, blown away by the very wind that could take the life out of a firefly. Without the candle he so dearly held onto for sixteen years of his life, darkness entangled him once again.
… And rightly so. This was his penance for killing his brother.
-:-:-:-:-
Darkness was his only friend, and it was his worst nemesis. It took away those he loved, tainted his entire future, and snatched away his light. But at the same time, it gave him comfort and familiarity and calmness.
If he had to choose either side of darkness that he would live with for the rest of his existence, it was obvious which one was the better option. The second persona, the one that embraced him lovingly instead of the one that strangled him tirelessly.
What he didn’t realize was that the second persona was just as poisonous as the first. What he didn’t realize was that darkness was still darkness, regardless of how your perspective on it was.
The darkness that replaced his only light continued to take away everything from him.
It took away his sight. It took away his only will to live.
He could no longer be a paranormal researcher.
Having the ability to do something with his ‘gifts’, his psychic abilities, was the only thing that kept him sane after his brother died. Having an impact in this field, no matter how small, kept him going because he thought he was still needed.
It’s all gone now, his will to live.
Just when he thought he found a new light to guide him, to free him … to love him …
-:-:-:-:-
The rustling of dry leaves tickled his ears, the gentle grass beneath him caressing his fingers that softly grazed them, taunting the endless field into a careful joust. The wind blew tempestuously at his face, so he raised his head up and welcomed the onslaught.
He could hear the crinkling of papers desperate to catch up with the hasty winter wind, running away from their home and choosing to escape to freedom. A startled gasp followed them, and then an impatient sigh.
The wind blew once again, harder, madder. He started to raise his arm to cover his chilled face, but realizing this, he stopped his hand halfway and put it back at his side, clenching it into a fist. The wind tore across its path and continued to bite at his skin.
Without any warnings, something definitely lighter, but more solid than the wind struck him on his chest. It inched it’s way to his face, making it hard for him to breathe as it covered his nose. It smelled of tangerines. He pulled it down and realized it was a piece of paper. He smoothed out its edges—it was approximately one palm wide and one and a half palm long. A legal sized paper, then, he guessed.
Footsteps approached him, lithe and with a lilting tempo. He laid his palms flat on the grass to fold his legs beneath him. He shifted his entire weight on his left leg, then stood up.
He felt himself go sideways instead of vertically. Bracing himself for impact on the hard ground, he met surprise as gentle arms embraced him instead. His body tensed unconsciously, his hands ready to swing and his feet ready to speed away.
“It’s just me, Naru,” a quiet voice so very very close to his ears, whispered. -:-:-:-:-
