storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-02-17 10:49 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-02-17 10:49 pm
Strength is Measured in the Number of Steps You Take (Fujitaka gen)
Title: Strength is Measured in the Number of Steps You Take
Length: 652 words
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Pairing: Fujitaka/Nadeshiko; Fujitaka gen primarily
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days_exchnge: 28. eternity. demand no direr name; Touya and Fujitaka for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starlightfairy2
Other: discussion of death; set pre-canon
Excerpt: "Mommy will be home soon. It will be all right," he was saying, almost as if he was convincing himself. Fujitaka bit his lip and listened to his son's easy patter, charming Sakura back to sleep.
Neither Touya nor Fujitaka really thought about eternity much: Fujitaka because he was always buried in history, in years, dates, places; and Touya because he was only nine, and to a nine-year-old, forever is the same as next month.
But when Nadeshiko became sick, they both found themselves considering it more often. One night when she was in the hospital, they found themselves sitting in the living room, staring at nothing. Touya had never been a very cheery child, unlike his sister (sleeping in the next room). His mother's illness had made him even more sober, and Fujitaka had to admit he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his son laugh.
He was staring off into space himself, lost in thought and memory. Ten years, that's all they'd had so far. Many more, he hoped, once she'd shook off this disease. But ten years had been long enough to feel like forever. He didn't remember being single; he didn't remember before she'd come and brightened his life.
Even still, it was not as sad of a position as the one in which his son stood. Earlier, during business hours, his mother had wheedled from him an oddly serious promise. Generally she made him promise to finish his homework or eat all of his dinner. This afternoon, she'd made him promise to watch over his sister. Fujitaka had watched his son clutch Nadeshiko's hand like a lifeline, and he'd nearly cried when the boy had nodded gravely.
"Touya," Fujitaka said, breaking the silence; the boy started. He'd clearly been lost in his own thoughts.
"Yes, Father?"
Fujitaka hesitated. He wanted to reassure his son, but he didn't want to lie either. He knew his wife would recover, but...
...He could make no promises.
"We'll be okay in the end, you know," he said finally. It wasn't good enough, really. The boy nodded, staring pointedly at the ceiling for a long moment to keep his composure.
"Forever is a long time," he whispered, finally, before darting out of the room. Fujitaka rose from his seat, sighed, and sank back down when he heard the bedroom door click. Touya wouldn't be coming out again tonight, he knew. He'd done this enough lately that Fujitaka knew.
He rested his head in his hands, rubbing at the bridge of his nose under the glasses, and he had to have fallen asleep because it was a strange shock to hear his daughter crying.
"Want Mommy!" she demanded. Fujitaka climbed to his feet to comfort her, but her babbling suddenly stopped and he could hear his son's voice soothing her.
"Mommy will be home soon. It will be all right," he was saying, almost as if he was convincing himself. Fujitaka bit his lip and listened to his son's easy patter, charming Sakura back to sleep.
"I promised to take care of you," the boy whispered before he left. When he poked his head into the living room, Fujitaka looked at him, and Touya looked as if he'd been caught. Then defiance crossed his face.
"She doesn't need to know," he said, as if he needed to defend himself, before he trudged back to his room.
"I know," Fujitaka said to his back, not knowing if his son was hearing him or not. He sighed and stretched and finally forced himself to his own lonely bed.
He woke in the morning with his children curled up next to him, Sakura in Touya's arms. They didn't wake when the telephone shrilled, which was probably for the best. As soon as he heard the ring, Fujitaka knew.
So he got up and pushed the off button, not daring to listen to whomever was on the line, and crawled back in bed with the kids for just another hour.
After all, eternity was a long time to mourn. They deserved their rest.
Length: 652 words
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Pairing: Fujitaka/Nadeshiko; Fujitaka gen primarily
Prompt:
31_days_exchnge: 28. eternity. demand no direr name; Touya and Fujitaka for starlightfairy2Other: discussion of death; set pre-canon
Excerpt: "Mommy will be home soon. It will be all right," he was saying, almost as if he was convincing himself. Fujitaka bit his lip and listened to his son's easy patter, charming Sakura back to sleep.
Neither Touya nor Fujitaka really thought about eternity much: Fujitaka because he was always buried in history, in years, dates, places; and Touya because he was only nine, and to a nine-year-old, forever is the same as next month.
But when Nadeshiko became sick, they both found themselves considering it more often. One night when she was in the hospital, they found themselves sitting in the living room, staring at nothing. Touya had never been a very cheery child, unlike his sister (sleeping in the next room). His mother's illness had made him even more sober, and Fujitaka had to admit he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his son laugh.
He was staring off into space himself, lost in thought and memory. Ten years, that's all they'd had so far. Many more, he hoped, once she'd shook off this disease. But ten years had been long enough to feel like forever. He didn't remember being single; he didn't remember before she'd come and brightened his life.
Even still, it was not as sad of a position as the one in which his son stood. Earlier, during business hours, his mother had wheedled from him an oddly serious promise. Generally she made him promise to finish his homework or eat all of his dinner. This afternoon, she'd made him promise to watch over his sister. Fujitaka had watched his son clutch Nadeshiko's hand like a lifeline, and he'd nearly cried when the boy had nodded gravely.
"Touya," Fujitaka said, breaking the silence; the boy started. He'd clearly been lost in his own thoughts.
"Yes, Father?"
Fujitaka hesitated. He wanted to reassure his son, but he didn't want to lie either. He knew his wife would recover, but...
...He could make no promises.
"We'll be okay in the end, you know," he said finally. It wasn't good enough, really. The boy nodded, staring pointedly at the ceiling for a long moment to keep his composure.
"Forever is a long time," he whispered, finally, before darting out of the room. Fujitaka rose from his seat, sighed, and sank back down when he heard the bedroom door click. Touya wouldn't be coming out again tonight, he knew. He'd done this enough lately that Fujitaka knew.
He rested his head in his hands, rubbing at the bridge of his nose under the glasses, and he had to have fallen asleep because it was a strange shock to hear his daughter crying.
"Want Mommy!" she demanded. Fujitaka climbed to his feet to comfort her, but her babbling suddenly stopped and he could hear his son's voice soothing her.
"Mommy will be home soon. It will be all right," he was saying, almost as if he was convincing himself. Fujitaka bit his lip and listened to his son's easy patter, charming Sakura back to sleep.
"I promised to take care of you," the boy whispered before he left. When he poked his head into the living room, Fujitaka looked at him, and Touya looked as if he'd been caught. Then defiance crossed his face.
"She doesn't need to know," he said, as if he needed to defend himself, before he trudged back to his room.
"I know," Fujitaka said to his back, not knowing if his son was hearing him or not. He sighed and stretched and finally forced himself to his own lonely bed.
He woke in the morning with his children curled up next to him, Sakura in Touya's arms. They didn't wake when the telephone shrilled, which was probably for the best. As soon as he heard the ring, Fujitaka knew.
So he got up and pushed the off button, not daring to listen to whomever was on the line, and crawled back in bed with the kids for just another hour.
After all, eternity was a long time to mourn. They deserved their rest.
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Seriously, good job. And thank you for writing it so well!!
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~^__^~
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