storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-10-06 10:53 am
storypaint) wrote2009-10-06 10:53 am
The Words I Didn't Write (Touya/Yukito)
Title: The Words I Didn't Write
Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle
Length: 920 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days: 6 Oct 09 // they whisper, "Goodbye, goodbye," in a falling mist
Pairing: slight Touya/Yukito; C!Syaoran/C!Sakura implied - set in the reincarnated-clones world
Other: Title from Dickinson.
Excerpt: The little glass tube was deceptively light in Touya's hands. Something in it glowed, but he wouldn't let himself look too closely.
The little glass tube was deceptively light in Touya's hands. Something in it glowed, but he wouldn't let himself look too closely. He cradled the thing to his chest, and that was how he was standing when Yukito came into the kitchen. The box lay abandoned on the table, the soft and carefully chosen wrappings strewn messily about.
"Toya?" Yukito said, brushing fingers over the filigreed design on one of the metal ends. There was something odd about this thing. It felt of Sakura's aura, and Syaoran's, but of someone else too, someone that made him oddly warm inside. But he wasn't good with the little bit of natural magic he had. That was Touya's thing.
"Letter," Touya managed to say, his throat tight. Yukito found the pages in the mass of packing detritus, and picked them up. That was Sakura's handwriting, all right, soft and round and childish, but also shaky and tearstained. He shot another look at Touya, who hadn't moved, still holding the glass tube close to his chest, and then he read the letter. He read it again.
Dear Brother and Yukito-san,
This is a hard letter to write, but you must believe me. This must be done for the sake of many futures, for the sake of our sons, for the sake of ourselves...
"The Witch of Dimensions," Yukito mumbled to himself, his fingers tracing the words. He looked back at the paper, and then back at the tube. Touya met his eyes, then, and Touya's gaze was even, but Yukito could see the worry underneath.
"Isn't that just like the monster? Running off again, like she ran off to Hong Kong with that brat." He sighed. "I knew he was a bad influence on her."
"Sister complex," Yukito said softly, with the ghost of a grin. He reached out to touch the tube again, but he found he couldn't look at it too closely either. The idea hurt. He wondered how long they would be waiting. He wondered if they would ever come back. He loved Sakura like his own sister, and the thought of never seeing her again made him nearly as distraught as Touya. He sunk into a chair, taking his glasses off to clean them for lack of anything better to do.
"Well, obviously I should have been even more protective," Touya answered gruffly, still standing there, still as a statue.
"They had to," Yukito said, knowing it wouldn't help. Touya understood that, after all. He'd read the letter.
"I know," Touya answered, as Yukito thought he would. "We should deliver this right away."
His tone was curt and crisp as he made the decision. Yukito picked up the paper with the odd address on it (You'll be able to see it, Sakura wrote, and wasn't that odd?), and the car keys, and the oddly-shaped staff that had been in the bottom of the box as well, pink and innocent and feeling almost like it belonged to Sakura, though he'd never seen it. Yukito would have to drive. He knew Touya wouldn't let go of the tube until they put it into the witch's hands.
If this was all they could do for Sakura's children, for Sakura, then they would do it, no matter how painful it was. And they would come back and wake up Fujitaka, if necessary, and tell him too, though surely Sakura had written to her father as well.
"She has her luck," Yukito said to Touya as the dark-haired boy opened the passenger-side door. Their eyes met for a long moment over the car roof.
"I hope so," Touya said.
It was a long and silent drive to the witch's shop, the pink staff hard against his lap, and another long and thoughtful drive home. The witch hadn't told them much, beyond accepting their payment, even when Touya asked, even when he demanded.
"You can't afford it," she answered, shaking her head. "You can't afford it."
He'd called her a raven, a collector of shiny objects, and a couple of more unpleasant things, but she'd just shaken her head again, lifting a hand imperiously and somehow making him stop with just her look.
"We must," she said, her gaze far away, "trust in the future, and in those children."
Her voice, her attitude, her person itself was not friendly or warm. She was every inch a cold shopkeeper, theatrical because the situation called for it, with the odd scent of smoke hovering around her. But Yukito suspected, perhaps because he was a softie, or so Touya would say, that she was being cold for a reason. The way her fingers traced the staff made him think that she was remembering something.
It began to rain on their drive back, the mist slicking the road, and even the golden headlights didn't cut through it well. It seemed to be a good reflector of their bleak moods. They pulled into Fujtaka's driveway and sat there in the car for a moment. Then Yukito unfastened his seatbelt and leaned over and hugged Touya tightly.
When Fujitaka answered the door to see his son and his son's partner, hand in hand, he didn't ask before waving them in out of the rain.
"She'll surely be all right," Yukito said gently into Touya's ear, squeezing the other man's hand. After a moment Touya nodded.
And then they sat down with Fujitaka to explain.
Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle
Length: 920 words
Prompt:
31_days: 6 Oct 09 // they whisper, "Goodbye, goodbye," in a falling mistPairing: slight Touya/Yukito; C!Syaoran/C!Sakura implied - set in the reincarnated-clones world
Other: Title from Dickinson.
Excerpt: The little glass tube was deceptively light in Touya's hands. Something in it glowed, but he wouldn't let himself look too closely.
The little glass tube was deceptively light in Touya's hands. Something in it glowed, but he wouldn't let himself look too closely. He cradled the thing to his chest, and that was how he was standing when Yukito came into the kitchen. The box lay abandoned on the table, the soft and carefully chosen wrappings strewn messily about.
"Toya?" Yukito said, brushing fingers over the filigreed design on one of the metal ends. There was something odd about this thing. It felt of Sakura's aura, and Syaoran's, but of someone else too, someone that made him oddly warm inside. But he wasn't good with the little bit of natural magic he had. That was Touya's thing.
"Letter," Touya managed to say, his throat tight. Yukito found the pages in the mass of packing detritus, and picked them up. That was Sakura's handwriting, all right, soft and round and childish, but also shaky and tearstained. He shot another look at Touya, who hadn't moved, still holding the glass tube close to his chest, and then he read the letter. He read it again.
Dear Brother and Yukito-san,
This is a hard letter to write, but you must believe me. This must be done for the sake of many futures, for the sake of our sons, for the sake of ourselves...
"The Witch of Dimensions," Yukito mumbled to himself, his fingers tracing the words. He looked back at the paper, and then back at the tube. Touya met his eyes, then, and Touya's gaze was even, but Yukito could see the worry underneath.
"Isn't that just like the monster? Running off again, like she ran off to Hong Kong with that brat." He sighed. "I knew he was a bad influence on her."
"Sister complex," Yukito said softly, with the ghost of a grin. He reached out to touch the tube again, but he found he couldn't look at it too closely either. The idea hurt. He wondered how long they would be waiting. He wondered if they would ever come back. He loved Sakura like his own sister, and the thought of never seeing her again made him nearly as distraught as Touya. He sunk into a chair, taking his glasses off to clean them for lack of anything better to do.
"Well, obviously I should have been even more protective," Touya answered gruffly, still standing there, still as a statue.
"They had to," Yukito said, knowing it wouldn't help. Touya understood that, after all. He'd read the letter.
"I know," Touya answered, as Yukito thought he would. "We should deliver this right away."
His tone was curt and crisp as he made the decision. Yukito picked up the paper with the odd address on it (You'll be able to see it, Sakura wrote, and wasn't that odd?), and the car keys, and the oddly-shaped staff that had been in the bottom of the box as well, pink and innocent and feeling almost like it belonged to Sakura, though he'd never seen it. Yukito would have to drive. He knew Touya wouldn't let go of the tube until they put it into the witch's hands.
If this was all they could do for Sakura's children, for Sakura, then they would do it, no matter how painful it was. And they would come back and wake up Fujitaka, if necessary, and tell him too, though surely Sakura had written to her father as well.
"She has her luck," Yukito said to Touya as the dark-haired boy opened the passenger-side door. Their eyes met for a long moment over the car roof.
"I hope so," Touya said.
It was a long and silent drive to the witch's shop, the pink staff hard against his lap, and another long and thoughtful drive home. The witch hadn't told them much, beyond accepting their payment, even when Touya asked, even when he demanded.
"You can't afford it," she answered, shaking her head. "You can't afford it."
He'd called her a raven, a collector of shiny objects, and a couple of more unpleasant things, but she'd just shaken her head again, lifting a hand imperiously and somehow making him stop with just her look.
"We must," she said, her gaze far away, "trust in the future, and in those children."
Her voice, her attitude, her person itself was not friendly or warm. She was every inch a cold shopkeeper, theatrical because the situation called for it, with the odd scent of smoke hovering around her. But Yukito suspected, perhaps because he was a softie, or so Touya would say, that she was being cold for a reason. The way her fingers traced the staff made him think that she was remembering something.
It began to rain on their drive back, the mist slicking the road, and even the golden headlights didn't cut through it well. It seemed to be a good reflector of their bleak moods. They pulled into Fujtaka's driveway and sat there in the car for a moment. Then Yukito unfastened his seatbelt and leaned over and hugged Touya tightly.
When Fujitaka answered the door to see his son and his son's partner, hand in hand, he didn't ask before waving them in out of the rain.
"She'll surely be all right," Yukito said gently into Touya's ear, squeezing the other man's hand. After a moment Touya nodded.
And then they sat down with Fujitaka to explain.