Devil on the Run (part 1)
A Kodomo No Omacha fanfic
© By Iris C.
E-mail : [email protected]
Completed : May 15th, 2001 (edited - May 30th)
Plug: Visit KnO: insanity at www.geocities.com/knosite
Background : After high school, Hayama and Sana went their separate
ways. While Sana continued her career in acting; Hayama took a very
different path: underground drug dealing. It was a dangerous life, but
it paid well. Especially for Hayama, who's good at anything if he has
to. Four years later however, Hayama felt his conscience eating him
up, therefore, quitted the business. But sometimes you can't expect
life to leave you alone just because you've 'quitted'. Sometimes it
follows you and will make you pay...in the worst ways you can imagine.
Rated pg13 - R for violence, profanity and mature issues.
Warning : this is very un-kodocha. I attempted in making a funny
kodocha fic where the elevator glass broke but that came out beyond
pathetic so I resorted to drama. It's not that OCC, considering that
they are now... 'adults'. ^^
'Tis a S+H! !^.^!
JP phrases that may appear here and there in this:
Ohayo - hello
Ja ne - see ya
Daijoubu - are you okay? Or okay.
Hai - yes
Iie (it's pronounced ee-ee-yea) - no
Gomen - sorry
Ai shiteru - I love you
Arigatou - thank you
Baka - idiot
Onii-san – (older) brother
Kawaii - cute
Nani - what
Devil on the run
I took a long whiff from the cigarette then exhaled slowly, letting all
its venom, nicotine and rat poison settle in the pit of my body.
"Here you go," Ichibin threw me a bottle of Saki (*a popular alcoholic
drink in Japan*).
"Domo," after catching it, I examined its contents.
Oh good, more poison.
"Nothing on tonight," Ichibin whined as he flipped through the TV
channels.
I ignored him, allowing my eyes sinking into the television set,
deciphering its millions of particles.
Wait a second...
I shot up. "Go back."
"Huh?" Ichibin turned.
"Go back three channels."
He did.
"If I could relive my life, I would," a voice declared from the
television.
"Heyyy, I never knew you liked this sort of soap opera stuff Hayama,"
Ichibin chuckled.
"Iie, you would just make the same mistakes again," whispered another
voice from the TV.
I blinked. Taking a sip from the bottle then fixed my gaze at the
screen. She had changed her hair, the familiar pigtails were replaced
by a simple, neat bun.
"You are right, I'd still fall in love with you."
The channel flipped.
"I can't stand that pretty boy Naozumi or something. He's too pretty,
he should have been born a girl," Ichibin laughed.
It's been four years.
Four whole years since I saw her face.
===========
As usual, the clock struck 6:00 as I climbed out of bed and headed
toward the bathroom. As usual, I nearly tripped over Ichibin, who was
sleeping soundly on the ivory carpet.
The boy'll never learn.
I threw a blanket over him then locked myself in the bathroom. Good
morning, my reflection scowled at me: unruly hair, dull eyes and a
prosaic expression. Just lovely. I stripped then stumbled into the
shower, turning the nuzzle on high and held my head against it.
My name is Hayama Akito. Age 22. Occupation: jobless. Owns: three-
bedroom apartment complex in one of the richest neighborhoods in the
city.
Life can be pretty ironic.
I reached for the shampoo, but not before the phone rang. Much
profanity escaped from my mouth as I grabbed a towel and headed toward
the living room.
"Moshi Moshi?" my voice sounded solemn and dull.
"Ohayo, Hayama-san," the sly voice, I can recognize it anywhere.
"Kaiko," I muttered, "what now?"
"Oh nothin' much, just wanted to chat, Hayama-san."
"Spit it."
"All right, all right. I was wondering if you got any more shipments
comin',"
"No, I don't."
"Oh, Hayama-san, you didn't really think I believed ya when you said
you were gonna be clean now did ya?"
"I am clean."
"Oh come on, listen. I can get you a sweet deal. I have some
connections in Osaka and you are the slickest I know so..."
"Are you listening to me, Kiako? I don't do shit anymore," I spat.
He laughed. "Oh yeah? Then what do you do Hayama? The only thing you
are good at is doing shit."
"Don't mess with me."
"What is it Hayama? Do you have too much money now? Or is it too many
bitches?" he sneered; I could see his smirking face.
"You want me to report you? Cuz if you don't, you would leave me alone
and go on fucking yourself to death," I warned.
"Oh, I'm scared now. Hell, Hayama, you are the one sittin' on millions
of illegal money," he chortled, "the police would rather have your ass
than mine and you know it."
I hung up the phone.
I hate bastards that waste my time.
"Daijoubu?" Ichibin stared at me, concerned.
"Daijoubu. Sorry if I woke you up," I said.
"It's cool, I should get up anyway."
"I'm gonna go to the market."
"Akito?"
"Ne, Ichibin?" I looked up and saw the 18-year old hesitant.
"Was it Kaiko?"
"Hai."
"We're in this together, Akito nii-san" Ichibin grabbed me by the
shoulder.
"Daijoubu Ichibin, he can't do anything."
He nodded. "I know, but when you did so many shit, anything could
happen," Ichibin smiled wryly, "I know I was against your decision,
but I think quitting was the smartest thing we've ever done."
"Hmmm..."
"I'll always back you up nii-san, blood brothers."
"..."
==========
It's kind of funny wandering around the streets aimlessly while the
whole world carried suit cases, hurrying toward their subway
destinations. If one can concentrate hard enough though, they'd
realize that no one gives a damn about them at this hour. Thus, it was
one of those lazy mornings where I am forced to think about my life
again. It wasn't terribly bad. Really. It wasn't bad at all. I had a
decent apartment and a decent bank account. I can afford to eat sushi
every day. I even had a blood brother who keeps me from screaming... My
stomach sank as the thought of Ichibin. On top of all the guilt I've
encumbered, I will never ever forgive myself for meeting Ichibin,
meeting him and ruining his life. I moaned at reality once more. It
wasn't fair. Why do I always end up ruining people's lives? Why why
why? Ichibin had such a bright future, but no, he had to meet me, had
to look up to me as a brother. And I, I had to like him, like his smart
mouth and attitude, like his sincerity yet forever innocence. What's
more was I agreed to this stupid blood brother thing.
"Now we'll be a force of two," I remember him saying, excited as we
pressed our red fingers together.
What fools.
I strolled into the grocery store, as if time had no significance in my
life. What do I need again?
Tofu, Ichibin's favorite, and sushi of course, some more saki, somemore
cigarettes.
Fifteen minutes later I came out with six boxes of tofu, a 'how to make
sushi' recipe book, two bags of green tea, and cigarettes. Hey, you
can't quit everything.
The streets were a lot quieter now. No more businessmen; no more school
children; just some busses and slow moving cars. I walked along the
sidewalk, trailing the familiar route to home. My neighborhood was
quiet, that's why I brought the apartment. It's hard to find peace in
congested cities.
It's also very stupid for a red convertible to be sedentary in the
middle of the street. People these days. I walked around the back of
the car and headed toward my apartment, just as I was going into the
building, I heard a call.
"OI!!!! Can you help me? Please!!!" the voice was urgent, I sighed,
scowling as I turned around.
A girl stood beside the red convertible was waving, obviously in car
trouble. Well, at least this raises the human intelligence status back
a bit.
I dragged my grocery bags and walked toward her.
Then she stopped waving.
Then I dropped my bags.
No way.
Yes way.
No way.
Yes...
It was her. She was taller, and the dress she wore framed her mature
body perfectly. Although, she still had the same eyes...the same.
"Hayama..." she voiced my name, filled with awe and confusion like so
many times before. "Hayama..." she leaned against her car, looking
ghastly, as if short of oxygen.
I walked toward her. "Daijoubu? Kurata?"
She stared at me with glistening eyes, examining me, as if trying to
touch my soul. I fumbled; frightened that she must succeed in doing so
like so many times before.
"Daijoubu?" I asked again with an indifferent tone.
Her face went from awe-struck, to confusion, to anguish.
Then she slapped me, the soft hands that never injured anyone. "You..."
her eyes were flooded by now, "I hate you!" her hands thwarting my
chest, hitting them with all her might, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate
you! I hate you!" she cried.
I grabbed her hands in mine, ceasing her second of insanity.
She pulled her hands away like an injured soul. "You are so cruel..."
she sank to her knees. "I've written you so many letters, I've called
you so many times, and all of them are to a fake address. You never
called me, never contacted me! You promised Hayama! You promised you
would! But the second I was gone you fled from me! Do you know how
worried I had been over the years? Do you know how many records I went
through trying to find you? I thought something terrible has happened
to you! You are cruel! You are cruel! You are cruel!" she inculcated.
"Sana," I whispered. "Gomen ne."
"Iie..." she shook her head and stared at me with those beautiful eyes,
"you are lying. You are always lying! Always," hurt, she was hurt.
And the fact that she's hurt was cutting through me, tearing, shredding
me.
"I..." I couldn't think of anything to say. Yeah, sure, tell her the
truth. Sana, the reason why I couldn't contact you was because I've
been doing illegal business that can result in death by one small
mistake. Or maybe, Sana, the reason why I didn't contact you was
because you have everything and I have nothing; you are loved and I am
a mistake.
"You what, Hayama? Did you forget me? Did you ever really love me? Or
was it all a lie too?"
Love. Bittersweet word. Not in this world. Where lies claim all. Stop
it. I told myself.
"Get up, Sana." I whispered.
"Why? Are you going to leave me?"
I winced. What have I done? What have I done to the girl? Why AM I so
cruel? So abominable? Why do I do the things I do? I stared at Sana.
She looked lost and confused, so not in control like she was usually.
God, why am I always the source of pain? It hurts. It hurts worse than
hell...it hurts...it hurts...
I sank to my knees. Overwhelmed with four years of emotions, overcome
by endless guilt and locked passion. My hand went up by my chest, I
could feel it bleed, feel it drown, feel it suffocate...
It hurts...
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, my hand thrust on the dry cement now,
the only support before everything crumbles.
I heard her soft sobbing.
Then everything crumbled. Tears started gushing in my eyes, through my
eyes, and I could see them landing on the dry cement. One, by one, by
one...
"I'm sorry," my voice weak against her presence. "I'm so sorry," I
repeated.
It hurts...
Then I felt something. Her arms, against me, touching me, cradling my
head against her body, comforting it like she had so many times before.
"I'm sorry," I choked.
We sat there for a while. Not a word was said, but everything was
mended.
(Commentos from iris: O_O Oh hell, I didn't write that. _ How much
more pathetic can I get?? Lol)
========================
She scribbled her number and address on my hand hastily. "Number,
address, call me," she pleaded. "And thank you for the ride," she
smiled at me, the first in four years.
It was a lovely smile too. A Sana smile, so pure and bright. Was it
though? Was it pure and bright like it had been? It's been four years
after all. Four years can do a lot to a person. I've learned that from
experience. But Sana was different from the rest. She's a fighter with
interminable will and strength. It would be lovely to be her, perhaps
then I wouldn't have gotten into all this shitty mess. Then I wouldn't
have to toss and turn in bed, wondering how many people I had succeeded
in killing in one day. Then I wouldn't be wishing I were dead, as if my
nonexistence could erase all I had done.
"You are welcome. Do you need your car fixed? I can take a look at it,"
I finally made out, shutting out the guilty conscience.
"It's okay, I called the insurance company already."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Okay," I put the helmet on then climbed onto the motorcycle.
"Wait," she grabbed my arm, "call me, Hayama, I mean it." Her usually
naive expression was painted with such piety I could actually feel my
heart nodding. It was a rather frightening experience.
I nodded then started the engine, with her eyes in me, burning and
melting my hardened soul.
=======================
I dragged out the old suitcase filled with memoirs: dad's dinosaur toy,
Natsumi's paper cranes, Tsuyoshi's thank you notes, Fuka's postcards.
Has it really been four years? I wonder how everyone was doing. As if
you cared. I laughed at myself. You don't care at all. If you did, you
would have visited your family instead of sending anonymous money into
their bank accounts; you would have actually written to Tsuyoshi and
congratulate him on getting into Tokyo University; you would have
actually used one of Fuka's already stamped, already addressed
postcards and say a brief hello. But you didn't, what a heartless
person.
Something fell from the mess, I picked it up.
A keychain.
Sana and I. A pink cotton candy and a bright smile on her face. A blue
popsicle and a grimace on mine. How fitting. I chuckled then turn it to
the flip side. "Ai shiteru," I read the inscription out loud.
My chest was hurting. I could feel her small hands pounding on it
again. I could hear her yell "I hate you!" just as she had said "I love
you" four years ago. The number in my hand was calling out to me. I
picked up the phone then dialed her number.
Ring. Ring.
No. I can't! I slammed the phone down. I can't call her. She'll be in
danger just being around me. No.
"Ahhh..." I moaned. "No."
========================
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang and I came face to face with those
amber eyes.
"Caller ID," she said simply.
"Oh," I replied. Baka baka baka. I scolded myself. Of course the most
popular actress in Japan will have a state of the art communication
machine.
"Can I come in?" she asked hopefully.
I swung the door open and watched as she placed herself on the couch,
displaying such grace in motion I had to double check to see if it
really was Sana.
"You live alone?" she glanced around the apartment.
I shook my head. "Ichibin lives with me."
"Ichibin?"
"Hai. My brother."
"Brother?" she looked flustered. "Ne Hayama! Just HOW many secrets DO
you have?"
Her face scrunched and frowning, looking a little frustrated as she
still couldn't crack the dark corners of my life. I felt a smile
kindled somewhere, seeing her face
like that. Sana has the world's most interesting fascinating
expressions to look at. Of course, she also had really pretty eyes, and
a perfect complexion, and beautiful lips...
"Hayama?"
"Oh, no, he's not my real brother. He's my blood brother," I rushed.
"Blood brother?" she smiled, "ne? Really? Wow...sugoi! Where is he?"
excited, she immediately shot up.
"He's not in right now," I scratched my head, where is Ichibin at this
hour anyway?
"Oh," she sat down. "Well, I'm happy for you then."
Such a pure smile...shouldn't be jaded. I reminded myself, don't tell
her what you have been doing Akito.
"Arigatou, would you like any tea?" I opened the fridge, "or any
drinks?"
"Ahh...no thank you."
"Oh, okay," I grabbed a bag of dried seaweed, "want some?" I handed a
package to her.
"Okay!" she grabbed them, then devoured them like a little kid. "Mmm,
thank you Hayama. Oh, you know what's funny?" she mumbled as she
chewed, "I just mailed some of this stuff to my American friends in New
York! I attached mama's world's smallest camera onto the packages so I
can capture their faces! Hahaha! I can just see their faces!"
"I'll bet," I murmured, chewing mechanically on the algae.
She suddenly stopped. "Ne, Hayama, do you think that was mean? Why am I
still like this at the age of 22?" her voice grew quiet.
I looked up.
"Is this why you stopped talking to me too? Am I too immature?"
Sometimes talking to Sana is like being on a roller coaster, one minute
you're going on twirly twirls, the next you're going downhill
backwards. Although, that would probably beat talking to me, unless you
like vvveeerrrryyyyy ssssllllloooowwww carousels.
"Baka," I said.
"What?"
"Baka, I didn't stop talking to you because you're immature, and
actually, I think it would be funny to see..."
"HEY! DON'T CALL ME BAKA! BAKA!" she pulled something out of the air.
After so many many years, she still kept that hammer toy. I now vow to
somehow smash the damn toy apart before it smashes me apart.
"Quit it, baka!" I moaned.
"Don't call me baka!!"
This was a serious conversation, it really was.
"Baka," I murmured.
Instead of tearing my head off, I saw the widest Sana smile yet in my
precocious
years.
She chuckled. "Ne, I guess you and I will never get along huh?"
Huh?
"No matter how many years and how many faces, you're still the opposite
of me," she cupped her face.
Huh...
"Guess so."
"Hayama?"
"Nani?"
"I've missed you."
"..."
"I..."
Before she could say anything, I grabbed her hand and kissed her on her
lips. Lips I haven't touched in four years. I wonder how I could have
given up on this feeling. I wonder how I could have given into this
feeling once again, knowing I might have to hurt her, once again.
But I don't think I cared at the moment.
To be continued...
Woww…this is so corny I can barely re-read it…wow… ^^x
A Kodomo No Omacha fanfic
© By Iris C.
E-mail : [email protected]
Completed : May 15th, 2001 (edited - May 30th)
Plug: Visit KnO: insanity at www.geocities.com/knosite
Background : After high school, Hayama and Sana went their separate
ways. While Sana continued her career in acting; Hayama took a very
different path: underground drug dealing. It was a dangerous life, but
it paid well. Especially for Hayama, who's good at anything if he has
to. Four years later however, Hayama felt his conscience eating him
up, therefore, quitted the business. But sometimes you can't expect
life to leave you alone just because you've 'quitted'. Sometimes it
follows you and will make you pay...in the worst ways you can imagine.
Rated pg13 - R for violence, profanity and mature issues.
Warning : this is very un-kodocha. I attempted in making a funny
kodocha fic where the elevator glass broke but that came out beyond
pathetic so I resorted to drama. It's not that OCC, considering that
they are now... 'adults'. ^^
'Tis a S+H! !^.^!
JP phrases that may appear here and there in this:
Ohayo - hello
Ja ne - see ya
Daijoubu - are you okay? Or okay.
Hai - yes
Iie (it's pronounced ee-ee-yea) - no
Gomen - sorry
Ai shiteru - I love you
Arigatou - thank you
Baka - idiot
Onii-san – (older) brother
Kawaii - cute
Nani - what
Devil on the run
I took a long whiff from the cigarette then exhaled slowly, letting all
its venom, nicotine and rat poison settle in the pit of my body.
"Here you go," Ichibin threw me a bottle of Saki (*a popular alcoholic
drink in Japan*).
"Domo," after catching it, I examined its contents.
Oh good, more poison.
"Nothing on tonight," Ichibin whined as he flipped through the TV
channels.
I ignored him, allowing my eyes sinking into the television set,
deciphering its millions of particles.
Wait a second...
I shot up. "Go back."
"Huh?" Ichibin turned.
"Go back three channels."
He did.
"If I could relive my life, I would," a voice declared from the
television.
"Heyyy, I never knew you liked this sort of soap opera stuff Hayama,"
Ichibin chuckled.
"Iie, you would just make the same mistakes again," whispered another
voice from the TV.
I blinked. Taking a sip from the bottle then fixed my gaze at the
screen. She had changed her hair, the familiar pigtails were replaced
by a simple, neat bun.
"You are right, I'd still fall in love with you."
The channel flipped.
"I can't stand that pretty boy Naozumi or something. He's too pretty,
he should have been born a girl," Ichibin laughed.
It's been four years.
Four whole years since I saw her face.
===========
As usual, the clock struck 6:00 as I climbed out of bed and headed
toward the bathroom. As usual, I nearly tripped over Ichibin, who was
sleeping soundly on the ivory carpet.
The boy'll never learn.
I threw a blanket over him then locked myself in the bathroom. Good
morning, my reflection scowled at me: unruly hair, dull eyes and a
prosaic expression. Just lovely. I stripped then stumbled into the
shower, turning the nuzzle on high and held my head against it.
My name is Hayama Akito. Age 22. Occupation: jobless. Owns: three-
bedroom apartment complex in one of the richest neighborhoods in the
city.
Life can be pretty ironic.
I reached for the shampoo, but not before the phone rang. Much
profanity escaped from my mouth as I grabbed a towel and headed toward
the living room.
"Moshi Moshi?" my voice sounded solemn and dull.
"Ohayo, Hayama-san," the sly voice, I can recognize it anywhere.
"Kaiko," I muttered, "what now?"
"Oh nothin' much, just wanted to chat, Hayama-san."
"Spit it."
"All right, all right. I was wondering if you got any more shipments
comin',"
"No, I don't."
"Oh, Hayama-san, you didn't really think I believed ya when you said
you were gonna be clean now did ya?"
"I am clean."
"Oh come on, listen. I can get you a sweet deal. I have some
connections in Osaka and you are the slickest I know so..."
"Are you listening to me, Kiako? I don't do shit anymore," I spat.
He laughed. "Oh yeah? Then what do you do Hayama? The only thing you
are good at is doing shit."
"Don't mess with me."
"What is it Hayama? Do you have too much money now? Or is it too many
bitches?" he sneered; I could see his smirking face.
"You want me to report you? Cuz if you don't, you would leave me alone
and go on fucking yourself to death," I warned.
"Oh, I'm scared now. Hell, Hayama, you are the one sittin' on millions
of illegal money," he chortled, "the police would rather have your ass
than mine and you know it."
I hung up the phone.
I hate bastards that waste my time.
"Daijoubu?" Ichibin stared at me, concerned.
"Daijoubu. Sorry if I woke you up," I said.
"It's cool, I should get up anyway."
"I'm gonna go to the market."
"Akito?"
"Ne, Ichibin?" I looked up and saw the 18-year old hesitant.
"Was it Kaiko?"
"Hai."
"We're in this together, Akito nii-san" Ichibin grabbed me by the
shoulder.
"Daijoubu Ichibin, he can't do anything."
He nodded. "I know, but when you did so many shit, anything could
happen," Ichibin smiled wryly, "I know I was against your decision,
but I think quitting was the smartest thing we've ever done."
"Hmmm..."
"I'll always back you up nii-san, blood brothers."
"..."
==========
It's kind of funny wandering around the streets aimlessly while the
whole world carried suit cases, hurrying toward their subway
destinations. If one can concentrate hard enough though, they'd
realize that no one gives a damn about them at this hour. Thus, it was
one of those lazy mornings where I am forced to think about my life
again. It wasn't terribly bad. Really. It wasn't bad at all. I had a
decent apartment and a decent bank account. I can afford to eat sushi
every day. I even had a blood brother who keeps me from screaming... My
stomach sank as the thought of Ichibin. On top of all the guilt I've
encumbered, I will never ever forgive myself for meeting Ichibin,
meeting him and ruining his life. I moaned at reality once more. It
wasn't fair. Why do I always end up ruining people's lives? Why why
why? Ichibin had such a bright future, but no, he had to meet me, had
to look up to me as a brother. And I, I had to like him, like his smart
mouth and attitude, like his sincerity yet forever innocence. What's
more was I agreed to this stupid blood brother thing.
"Now we'll be a force of two," I remember him saying, excited as we
pressed our red fingers together.
What fools.
I strolled into the grocery store, as if time had no significance in my
life. What do I need again?
Tofu, Ichibin's favorite, and sushi of course, some more saki, somemore
cigarettes.
Fifteen minutes later I came out with six boxes of tofu, a 'how to make
sushi' recipe book, two bags of green tea, and cigarettes. Hey, you
can't quit everything.
The streets were a lot quieter now. No more businessmen; no more school
children; just some busses and slow moving cars. I walked along the
sidewalk, trailing the familiar route to home. My neighborhood was
quiet, that's why I brought the apartment. It's hard to find peace in
congested cities.
It's also very stupid for a red convertible to be sedentary in the
middle of the street. People these days. I walked around the back of
the car and headed toward my apartment, just as I was going into the
building, I heard a call.
"OI!!!! Can you help me? Please!!!" the voice was urgent, I sighed,
scowling as I turned around.
A girl stood beside the red convertible was waving, obviously in car
trouble. Well, at least this raises the human intelligence status back
a bit.
I dragged my grocery bags and walked toward her.
Then she stopped waving.
Then I dropped my bags.
No way.
Yes way.
No way.
Yes...
It was her. She was taller, and the dress she wore framed her mature
body perfectly. Although, she still had the same eyes...the same.
"Hayama..." she voiced my name, filled with awe and confusion like so
many times before. "Hayama..." she leaned against her car, looking
ghastly, as if short of oxygen.
I walked toward her. "Daijoubu? Kurata?"
She stared at me with glistening eyes, examining me, as if trying to
touch my soul. I fumbled; frightened that she must succeed in doing so
like so many times before.
"Daijoubu?" I asked again with an indifferent tone.
Her face went from awe-struck, to confusion, to anguish.
Then she slapped me, the soft hands that never injured anyone. "You..."
her eyes were flooded by now, "I hate you!" her hands thwarting my
chest, hitting them with all her might, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate
you! I hate you!" she cried.
I grabbed her hands in mine, ceasing her second of insanity.
She pulled her hands away like an injured soul. "You are so cruel..."
she sank to her knees. "I've written you so many letters, I've called
you so many times, and all of them are to a fake address. You never
called me, never contacted me! You promised Hayama! You promised you
would! But the second I was gone you fled from me! Do you know how
worried I had been over the years? Do you know how many records I went
through trying to find you? I thought something terrible has happened
to you! You are cruel! You are cruel! You are cruel!" she inculcated.
"Sana," I whispered. "Gomen ne."
"Iie..." she shook her head and stared at me with those beautiful eyes,
"you are lying. You are always lying! Always," hurt, she was hurt.
And the fact that she's hurt was cutting through me, tearing, shredding
me.
"I..." I couldn't think of anything to say. Yeah, sure, tell her the
truth. Sana, the reason why I couldn't contact you was because I've
been doing illegal business that can result in death by one small
mistake. Or maybe, Sana, the reason why I didn't contact you was
because you have everything and I have nothing; you are loved and I am
a mistake.
"You what, Hayama? Did you forget me? Did you ever really love me? Or
was it all a lie too?"
Love. Bittersweet word. Not in this world. Where lies claim all. Stop
it. I told myself.
"Get up, Sana." I whispered.
"Why? Are you going to leave me?"
I winced. What have I done? What have I done to the girl? Why AM I so
cruel? So abominable? Why do I do the things I do? I stared at Sana.
She looked lost and confused, so not in control like she was usually.
God, why am I always the source of pain? It hurts. It hurts worse than
hell...it hurts...it hurts...
I sank to my knees. Overwhelmed with four years of emotions, overcome
by endless guilt and locked passion. My hand went up by my chest, I
could feel it bleed, feel it drown, feel it suffocate...
It hurts...
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, my hand thrust on the dry cement now,
the only support before everything crumbles.
I heard her soft sobbing.
Then everything crumbled. Tears started gushing in my eyes, through my
eyes, and I could see them landing on the dry cement. One, by one, by
one...
"I'm sorry," my voice weak against her presence. "I'm so sorry," I
repeated.
It hurts...
Then I felt something. Her arms, against me, touching me, cradling my
head against her body, comforting it like she had so many times before.
"I'm sorry," I choked.
We sat there for a while. Not a word was said, but everything was
mended.
(Commentos from iris: O_O Oh hell, I didn't write that. _ How much
more pathetic can I get?? Lol)
========================
She scribbled her number and address on my hand hastily. "Number,
address, call me," she pleaded. "And thank you for the ride," she
smiled at me, the first in four years.
It was a lovely smile too. A Sana smile, so pure and bright. Was it
though? Was it pure and bright like it had been? It's been four years
after all. Four years can do a lot to a person. I've learned that from
experience. But Sana was different from the rest. She's a fighter with
interminable will and strength. It would be lovely to be her, perhaps
then I wouldn't have gotten into all this shitty mess. Then I wouldn't
have to toss and turn in bed, wondering how many people I had succeeded
in killing in one day. Then I wouldn't be wishing I were dead, as if my
nonexistence could erase all I had done.
"You are welcome. Do you need your car fixed? I can take a look at it,"
I finally made out, shutting out the guilty conscience.
"It's okay, I called the insurance company already."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Okay," I put the helmet on then climbed onto the motorcycle.
"Wait," she grabbed my arm, "call me, Hayama, I mean it." Her usually
naive expression was painted with such piety I could actually feel my
heart nodding. It was a rather frightening experience.
I nodded then started the engine, with her eyes in me, burning and
melting my hardened soul.
=======================
I dragged out the old suitcase filled with memoirs: dad's dinosaur toy,
Natsumi's paper cranes, Tsuyoshi's thank you notes, Fuka's postcards.
Has it really been four years? I wonder how everyone was doing. As if
you cared. I laughed at myself. You don't care at all. If you did, you
would have visited your family instead of sending anonymous money into
their bank accounts; you would have actually written to Tsuyoshi and
congratulate him on getting into Tokyo University; you would have
actually used one of Fuka's already stamped, already addressed
postcards and say a brief hello. But you didn't, what a heartless
person.
Something fell from the mess, I picked it up.
A keychain.
Sana and I. A pink cotton candy and a bright smile on her face. A blue
popsicle and a grimace on mine. How fitting. I chuckled then turn it to
the flip side. "Ai shiteru," I read the inscription out loud.
My chest was hurting. I could feel her small hands pounding on it
again. I could hear her yell "I hate you!" just as she had said "I love
you" four years ago. The number in my hand was calling out to me. I
picked up the phone then dialed her number.
Ring. Ring.
No. I can't! I slammed the phone down. I can't call her. She'll be in
danger just being around me. No.
"Ahhh..." I moaned. "No."
========================
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang and I came face to face with those
amber eyes.
"Caller ID," she said simply.
"Oh," I replied. Baka baka baka. I scolded myself. Of course the most
popular actress in Japan will have a state of the art communication
machine.
"Can I come in?" she asked hopefully.
I swung the door open and watched as she placed herself on the couch,
displaying such grace in motion I had to double check to see if it
really was Sana.
"You live alone?" she glanced around the apartment.
I shook my head. "Ichibin lives with me."
"Ichibin?"
"Hai. My brother."
"Brother?" she looked flustered. "Ne Hayama! Just HOW many secrets DO
you have?"
Her face scrunched and frowning, looking a little frustrated as she
still couldn't crack the dark corners of my life. I felt a smile
kindled somewhere, seeing her face
like that. Sana has the world's most interesting fascinating
expressions to look at. Of course, she also had really pretty eyes, and
a perfect complexion, and beautiful lips...
"Hayama?"
"Oh, no, he's not my real brother. He's my blood brother," I rushed.
"Blood brother?" she smiled, "ne? Really? Wow...sugoi! Where is he?"
excited, she immediately shot up.
"He's not in right now," I scratched my head, where is Ichibin at this
hour anyway?
"Oh," she sat down. "Well, I'm happy for you then."
Such a pure smile...shouldn't be jaded. I reminded myself, don't tell
her what you have been doing Akito.
"Arigatou, would you like any tea?" I opened the fridge, "or any
drinks?"
"Ahh...no thank you."
"Oh, okay," I grabbed a bag of dried seaweed, "want some?" I handed a
package to her.
"Okay!" she grabbed them, then devoured them like a little kid. "Mmm,
thank you Hayama. Oh, you know what's funny?" she mumbled as she
chewed, "I just mailed some of this stuff to my American friends in New
York! I attached mama's world's smallest camera onto the packages so I
can capture their faces! Hahaha! I can just see their faces!"
"I'll bet," I murmured, chewing mechanically on the algae.
She suddenly stopped. "Ne, Hayama, do you think that was mean? Why am I
still like this at the age of 22?" her voice grew quiet.
I looked up.
"Is this why you stopped talking to me too? Am I too immature?"
Sometimes talking to Sana is like being on a roller coaster, one minute
you're going on twirly twirls, the next you're going downhill
backwards. Although, that would probably beat talking to me, unless you
like vvveeerrrryyyyy ssssllllloooowwww carousels.
"Baka," I said.
"What?"
"Baka, I didn't stop talking to you because you're immature, and
actually, I think it would be funny to see..."
"HEY! DON'T CALL ME BAKA! BAKA!" she pulled something out of the air.
After so many many years, she still kept that hammer toy. I now vow to
somehow smash the damn toy apart before it smashes me apart.
"Quit it, baka!" I moaned.
"Don't call me baka!!"
This was a serious conversation, it really was.
"Baka," I murmured.
Instead of tearing my head off, I saw the widest Sana smile yet in my
precocious
years.
She chuckled. "Ne, I guess you and I will never get along huh?"
Huh?
"No matter how many years and how many faces, you're still the opposite
of me," she cupped her face.
Huh...
"Guess so."
"Hayama?"
"Nani?"
"I've missed you."
"..."
"I..."
Before she could say anything, I grabbed her hand and kissed her on her
lips. Lips I haven't touched in four years. I wonder how I could have
given up on this feeling. I wonder how I could have given into this
feeling once again, knowing I might have to hurt her, once again.
But I don't think I cared at the moment.
To be continued...
Woww…this is so corny I can barely re-read it…wow… ^^x