In The Available Light

AN: Strangely enough, this is going to be Tasuki/Yui. Talk about your alternate couples, but something made me think they'd do well together. Also, there is no EikoDen. None. Alternate Reality.

This is a Repost – with the song lyrics removed. However, I will be posting the title of the song originally chosen for each chapter. I worked very very hard on picking the right song for each piece, so please, do check out LyricSafedotCom to read the lyrics. All songs are by the band Rush.

Chapter One: "In The Available Light"

Ya wanna know the worst part? I remember it all.

I can't figure when it started. Like, ever since I was a kid I knew that this wasn't really me. I remember getting into so much shit in Sunday school when I'd tell the fat lady teacher that Jesus Christ wasn't my god. My god was called Suzaku and was a big red bird.

I got beat for that. My family wasn't exactly rich, OK? Instead of therapy, I got beat. Believe me, I learned to keep my mouth shut pretty quick.

Speaking of family, same shit there too! Ma, older sisters, and a dad you couldn't see if you walked into him. I musta been about ten when I looked around and realized Damn! Same shit, different life!

Even my name, which when I realized it, I thought was pretty fucking funny. I mean, you get one life called one thing – right, so the name I was born with didn't mean dick that time, but this time, it's OK. I'll stick with it.

Anyways, by the time I was ten I remembered most of it. It got worse from there, though. Like, when I hit puberty, and every other guy in the neighborhood was having wet dreams about J.Lo or whoever, I was waking up with the cold sweats from nightmares about……

Shit, I sure as hell wish I didn't get back some memories. How the fuck is a guy supposed to deal with wanting to get laid when every time he dreams, he relives practically raping the girl he loves and nearly killing one of his best buddies?

And that's a whole other problem. I can't figure if I still love Miaka or not. I mean, I don't even know if she's alive, right? I know I'm here, born and living in her world, but some things in my head are still stuck in Konan. How am I supposed to even know if this is the right lifetime?

Let's not go there. I mean, I was lonely enough growing up, thanks, with all this shit in my head. Every dream was a little bit more remembering. The last straw was remembering Nuriko. I'm 14, I'm spazzing out, grieving for the death of a friend from another lifetime and what do I get? Ma gave me the beating of my life on that one. I ran away the next day.

So, 14 and on the streets. Fucking great. Same Shit, Different Life.

Not like I'm not ass-sim-il-ated, ya know? I'm not stupid. This time, I stayed the hell away from gangs, thanks. This ain't Mount Reikaku, this is New York City. Guy could get himself shot, screwing around with gangs. I made my own way, kept my head down.

Wasn't so bad, sometimes. Like, I was 15 when I met Kurt. Knew in a heartbeat who he was. He looked exactly the same. Except, instead of being another street kid like me, like we were then, he was a volunteer at the shelter. Nice Catholic boy, doing probation on a graffiti charge. He even had the scar, only this time, instead of getting it fighting a demon, he got it from the fence he tried to get away over when he got busted.

Actually, he's a damn good artist. I can't remember if Kouji could draw…..

Shit, now I'm wanting memories. Fuck.

Anyway, fast forward to Age 19. Bouncing from shit job to shit job. Kurt and I shared a pad, a cheap ass flat in Chinatown. I was delivering takeout for cash. Kurt was a housepainter and playing 'starving artist'. Still, it was pretty cool. We'd become good pals, just like before, but I made damn sure I didn't let on about that. I mean, Kurt's a good guy and all, but he doesn't remember a damn thing. And that hurt, it really did. Like I got someone back, but not really. I was still lonely, inside. I kinda knew why, too. Kouji was a brother to me, but he wasn't one of Suzaku's chosen. I knew I wasn't ever gonna feel better until I found the others.

So, then the question became, How? I was a bum. I barely kept a roof over my head, I lived on leftovers from the restaurant. My one extravagant purchase was a tattoo on my arm. Oh, hell yeah, I put that mark right back on! I wasn't taking any chances that someone might spot me, spot the yoku, and KNOW. I had to make sure. Because, I didn't know – maybe somewhere, someone was looking for me too. I had to keep hoping. Otherwise I'd lose it.

I lost it before, ya know. See, I was the last. Spent my life alone after everything. Lost Kouji from a poisoned arrow some rival gang member nailed him with. I burned that fucker dead. Chichiri stopped coming around after a while. I had thought he'd gone to help rebuild Kotou. Typical monk. Finally, 'bout ten years later, I'm sitting in the hideout, giving orders, right? And suddenly, I get this feeling like a punch in the gut. Next thing I know, I'm screaming like a lunatic. My own lieutenant knocked me out cold. The next day, I gear up and make trails for Eiyo, for the great shrine. I get there, and there's Boushin, Hotohori's kid. Houki, too, crying her eyes out when she sees me. Turns out Chichiri saved them from assassins, and got himself killed in the process.

I went a little bit nuts. Fuck that, I went a LOT nuts, OK? Went into the shrine, screaming my head off for Suzaku or that ugly witch to bring him back, bring my brothers back. I wouldn't let anyone near me, anyone touch me. I ranted for hours. Then finally, I figured that Suzaku really didn't give a shit any more, and that pissed me off so much……

I don't remember being dead. I remember setting the whole damn Eiyo Shrine on fire and I remember going down with it, damn it! I remember grief, and anger, and all that shit. I remember pain when the roof collapsed on me. And then the next thing I remember is this weird memory about the piece of shit TV in the apartment my family lived in down in the Bronx when I was a kid.

TV was a way better babysitter than any of my sisters.

So, Kurt and I got into this habit of slumming around Manhattan whenever we both got a day off. Kurt, he liked to sketch the people and the buildings, and go into lobbies and stuff to check out the art they got up. Me, I figured if I'm the same, the others will be too, and Manhattan's my best chance for finding anyone. After all, I was the only criminal of us seven. Of course, I could always hit the lotto and fly to Tokyo, right? Yeah, whatever.

One day we're hanging out, and we're sitting on these steps in this big open square near Wall Street, and I spot these two dudes just STARING at us. And I'm thinking, Oh great, we're gonna get hit on by Uptown queens! We had a queen living on the floor below us. He was total drag queen, liked us to call him Big Mama. Mama's weird, but OK, since he insisted on feeding us from time to time. Anyway, these two dudes are total Uptown sharp, ya know? Just as I'm about to kick Kurt into moving along, these two walk over and start talking to us. Turns out they ARE queers, but they ain't interested in a hook up – they're scouting for a modeling agency, dig? And they're saying shit like 'Clean is Out, Scruffy is In' and they want to take pictures of me and Kurt and see if they can't get us jobs as MODELS! When I finally stopped laughing, I found out they weren't shitting us. Next thing I know, me and Kurt are standing under all these lights, and one of the uptown queens is taking our picture. I was ready to blow that, but Kurt says the magic word, and I'm hooked.

The magic word is Money. We were so broke we'd take anything. These two dudes pay us 50 bucks each and get our names. We give 'em Mama's number, since we ain't got a phone.

And I'll be damned but they did it. A week later, Mama yelled up that we got a call, and there's the other dude, Terence, not the photographer Michael, and he's saying that we're hired! This agency is gonna pay us to be models. They wanna use us for a catalog right away. So, Kurt and I think it over, and we figured what the hell, it's a living. We were gonna stick together, though. Not like we were gay or nothing, just that, well, pals are pals, and they stick together.

So, here we are. I'm 20. We're both making enough cash modeling that we moved to a nicer pad. Still by Chinatown, though – I dig that neighborhood. Kurt's in heaven, he can afford all the paints and canvas and shit he wants. We're independent now, ya know? And I'm sitting in this nice chair, staring out the window and writing my fricken memoirs here like anyone's ever gonna read this shit, or even know what the hell I'm talking about half the time! Then again, maybe someday I'll be able to show this to someone who WILL understand. I wrote down everything I remember from then in other notebooks, and now this one's my life now, here, in this world.

'Cuz you never know, right? I'm a goddamned model now. My picture's gonna be all over the country, and maybe even the world. And as soon as I can sock away enough loot, I'm off to Tokyo, and I'm gonna find Miaka and Taka, and make sure that I'm not fucking crazy, and that I really AM Tasuki of the Suzaku Seven.