Wordcount: 2883
Sayis Inuzuri
March
Sayis Inuzuri
March
~ Fireflies and Nightlights ~
Sayis <3
Been awhile, hasn’t it, my dear Mahou Shoujo Broadsword-chan? How are you keeping? Schrödinger and I are as lively as ever (you remember Schröe, don’t you?), and we can’t wait to see you again! ^-^
Now, while I already went through quite a bit of trouble just to secure this little soul-phone, there are some things better left to the spoken word – that’s always been my motto (not really). As such, consider this but an (un)official entreaty, a me ad vos.
I humbly beseech an audience with Soul Society’s most highly-esteemed Soutaichou, to transpire two weeks from this day at the Rainbow Bridge in Tokyo, Japan.
(It’s a big glow-in-the-dark bridge, hard to miss! Still, don’t be afraid to ask for directions if you get lost. <3 ) No tricks, no traps, no guns or knives or hostages.
I’ll be there from sundown to sun-up, waiting. Just for you.
Be there or be square.
-Yuri
Been awhile, hasn’t it, my dear Mahou Shoujo Broadsword-chan? How are you keeping? Schrödinger and I are as lively as ever (you remember Schröe, don’t you?), and we can’t wait to see you again! ^-^
Now, while I already went through quite a bit of trouble just to secure this little soul-phone, there are some things better left to the spoken word – that’s always been my motto (not really). As such, consider this but an (un)official entreaty, a me ad vos.
I humbly beseech an audience with Soul Society’s most highly-esteemed Soutaichou, to transpire two weeks from this day at the Rainbow Bridge in Tokyo, Japan.
(It’s a big glow-in-the-dark bridge, hard to miss! Still, don’t be afraid to ask for directions if you get lost. <3 ) No tricks, no traps, no guns or knives or hostages.
I’ll be there from sundown to sun-up, waiting. Just for you.
Be there or be square.
-Yuri
The sun had long since passed beyond the horizon, leaving a deep velvet blanket draped across the sky, lightly speckled with stars. The neon nightlife of the restless city both obscured much of the night sky... as well as supplanted their far-off mystery and majesty with the promise of thrills and excitement closer to home. Even the bridge which stretched across Tokyo Bay joined the call to color.
Tokyo's famous suspension bridge, the Rainbow Bridge, was made of calm white stone and metal. During the day it was placid, a soothing complement to the sky and the sea. Now, though, it was brightly lit, living up to its nickname with splashes of red, blue, and yellow, mingling together into all the cardinal colors.
Sealed within a gigai, Sayis Inuzuri strode along the southern walkway that spanned the shimmering bridge's length. It was long past when the path had been closed to the public, but that was hardly a deterrent to him. The same was true for the man he was going to meet. The grey-haired Soutaichou frowned uncertainly as he walked, his long ponytail flapping behind him in the wind. He wore a plain black windbreaker, with dark blue jeans and low-topped black boots. The thin jacket did little to cut the late autumn winds, regardless of its moniker.
After receiving the odd message, Sayis had been unsure how to proceed. March had clearly gotten hold of a denreishinki and sent the message to the first person he found on its contacts, but it was still disconcerting that he could fabricate such a way to communicate with him... and asked for a meeting no less.
In fact, there he stood, near the center of the bridge up ahead. The white-haired enigma stared off over the choppy waters of Tokyo Bay, looking more serious than Sayis had ever seen him.
Sayis continued forward, curiosity and perhaps a bit of pity overriding the sense that this might be a trap or -- much more likely -- a waste of time. Somehow, though... he thought that this meeting might lead to something more.
Dressed in a knee-length, insulated blue coat buttoned up to his chin, white pants that were heavily-scuffed and stained with blood, and a pair of tattered black converse shoes, March stood upon the Rainbow Bridge and let the shinigami approach. The immortal’s white hair, now an inch or so past his shoulder blades in length, was loose about his face, and strands stuck up from his crown at random from where he’d repeatedly run his hands through it. It wasn’t quite cold enough for their breath to fog in the air, but the man’s hands were pressed deep into his coat pockets and every so often he’d seem to repress a shiver.
When Sayis was close enough, March began to speak.
“A long, long time ago,” he said, “I knew a man who would’ve loved this.”
He inclined his head, signifying with raised eyebrows and his pointed gaze the bay that tossed and turned far beneath their feet. The waters were blackened by darkness, a sea of oil or ink; the only splashes of color came from the bridge the two men stood upon and the far-off glitter of the city lights.
“He thought the ocean was...poetic,” March explained. “Idyllic, even. A thousand shades of blue, all reaching beyond the horizon; the play of colors across its surface at the break of day; the rippling waves, the white foam, the smell of salt on the wind.” March’s stare remained fixed as he spoke. He watched the tide with a calm, unreadable expression. “He told me, once, that as far as dying went, being lost at sea might not be such a bad way to go. He thought there’d be a kind of peace in it.
“Do ya know what happened to him?” March didn’t wait to see if Sayis was going to reply before continuing. “He died, of course. Drowned at sea; he let the waves carry him out, let the world fade away. But, of course, he found out he was wrong. There’s nothing peaceful about it. There’s never anything peaceful about it. Not the first time, not the hundredth. It’s always the same. Death is always the same.”
And without warning, without explanation, the man’s mood changed; his expression cleared, then brightened, as if by demand. March turned to Sayis with a grin on his pale, scarred face.
“Sayis!” he said, and even his voice seemed lighter now. “You came! And here I was, worried that you’d just send one of your overly-competent understudies, if you bothered to have anyone show up at all. Ah! Speaking of understudies!” The immortal extracted one hand from his pocket just long enough to toss Sayis what appeared to be a completely average cellphone. “Someone in Soul Society is probably missing that.”
Taking the phone, Sayis dropped it in a pocket for later perusal.
When had he seen March like this before? The question hung there while the immortal rambled on, until the answer struck him. March had acted like this when he was drugged, before his body learned to shut down the psycho-suppressive medication. Then, it hadn't been intentional. The medicine had simply sapped his ability to keep up his manic act.
Now... it didn't seem like March was medicated. That meant he was letting the mask down for other reasons.
"I wouldn't know," Sayis finally replied calmly, moving over to stand next to March, hands in his pockets. The two leaned there as if they were old friends. "I do not remember my own death. I was a child, no older than four, when I arrived in the afterlife, Soul Society." He hmm'd thoughtfully as another chilly wind swirled around them, whipping their hair to and fro. "I've come very close, though, many times."
Pausing to consider some of the reports from March's examinations during his incarceration, he noted, "I may have even more scars than you do, although I'm sure your unique nature keeps that number artificially low."
Sighing, the Soutaichou looked down at the black waters and the reflection of the Rainbow Bridge. "I am very well-acquainted with something else, though, which I do not think you can truly comprehend... not anymore, at least.
"If you ever did."
March gave the other man a long, considering look, then took Sayis’ lead and returned his gaze to the bay. “Well,” he said lightly, “There’re probably plenty of things I don’t comprehend that I should, Sayis. Heck, even if I might’ve...at one point...I won’t remember. A lot of time’s passed, and the memories I do have aren’t reliable.”
He angled his head slightly, watched the man out of the corner of his good eye. “Anyway, you’ll have to be a bit more specific. What are you referring to, dear? Love? Loyalty? Purpose?” he guessed, more for guessing’s sake than out of any real hope that one of the things he named would be the one Sayis meant.
“Attraction?” he added, the teasing a facsimile of their usual interactions.
"Fear," Sayis replied plainly, not so much as cracking a smile at the other man. Frowning thoughtfully, he corrected himself. "Fear for yourself. I suppose, at least for a time, you did fear for your son." Turning to look at March, the Soutaichou had a sympathetic look on his face... and it had to be sympathy because it was something he could never relate to.
"My zanpakuto carries a power," he explained, "which allows me to see a person beyond what they present. It's not mind-reading, exactly, but it gives me insight into who you are, who you were, what makes you who you are. So, when I pulled you from the Pale Horse, you were already under its influence. You've been around a long time and fallen under a lot of different influences.
"Allen stands out as a significant portion of why you are as you are now."
Sayis turned around, leaned against the rail and looked up toward the bridge. "I know fear because I have a lot to lose. I think... you already lost everything you care about."
For a long moment – one that seemed to stretch into eternity between the two men – March said nothing.
The immortal looked out over the bay, to the darkness of the horizon. In that moment, affectations set aside, perpetual smile fading to nothing, all that was left was a man with too many scars (more of them mental than physical) and eyes that were far too old for his face.
March seemed to be weighing his words. There was a visible hesitation before he said, “What did I just tell you about my memories, Sayis? What you’re talking about...it’s all something from a different life, for me, if it happened at all. Something I’ve long since forgotten.
“But you’re right,” he said, abruptly. “I lost everything I cared about a long, long time ago...and I’ve done nothing but lose more ever since. I lose and lose and lose. To time. To death. To myself. Until there’s nothing left.” March smiled without humor. “Not even memories. Just me.”
Sayis processed that silently, looking up at the colored lights on the bridge. "You could write things off if they happened in another life. That's why you change your name so often and why you embrace these new identities so completely." He was March, as much as he was Yuri or Joseph or Rooke. "It's almost like you're mimicking the idea behind reincarnation, but it's still just a performance.
"Have you ever wondered why the sound of your birth name elicits such rage when you yourself claim that it's another life?" Sayis turned to look at March, staring off across the bay. There was no need to continue along that train of thought. "That only makes it that much more odd that you would use that name so send a message to me.
"Why did you bring me out here, March? What did Raifuku promise you for your cooperation?"
“Yuri,” March answered. “He promised me Yuri.”
Somewhere overhead a plane cut across the night sky, its engines a distant rumble. March raised his head to track its progress across the sky. His two-tone eyes fixed on the aircraft’s blinking lights. “You asked me why that name affects me so,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t know. I have plenty of triggers, of course, but that one’s the worst. It’s the worst by far.”
The plane vanished into the night, and March hummed to himself. His gaze drifted down, lit briefly on the bay, then kept going. He considered his shoes as he continued.
“Maybe it’s because it’s a reminder. I hear it, that name – those five syllables – and it’s a reminder of everything I’ve ever been, all coming back to me at once. I see...”
–a crudely-carved hunk of wood in the shape of a stake, stained red a pocket of dim yellow light chipped paint and a weed-choked courtyard and boarded-over windows tears tracking through the dirt on her cheeks the French before him, a frozen pond at his back several large, nondescript wooden cases cold metal in his hands a courtyard, full of flowering plants that are so green they hurt a couple, dozing together, a balding man, a soldier in full uniform black leather gloves; neatly combed, dusty brown hair a dark blot amidst a canvas of countryside yellows and greens–
A hand slipped from its pocket, clad in red leather, and pressed itself, trembling, to March’s temple. “I see everything,” he muttered. “All at once. It doesn’t make sense; I can’t remember what any of it means – but it’s enough to remind me. I was supposed to die when I was very young. I didn’t. And I’ve been failing to right things ever since.
“...You asked me why I brought you out here. I wanted to confide in you, I guess. Of the people who know who I am, you understand the most.” March looked over, met Sayis’ gaze again. “You should already know what Raifuku promised me, and you should already know why I wanted to meet with you tonight.”
A pause.
“Aside from giving you your annoying ghost cat back, that is.” The immortal’s demeanor lightened again. He glanced around. “He should be here somewhere... But, you know, Schröe always bails when serious things are happening.”
"So, you kept him alive, after all," Sayis remarked, a bit surprised in spite of himself. There had always been that hope that the cat might remind March what it was like to have something to worry about, to protect. Hmming to himself thoughtfully, he ventured, "Raifuku offered you a solution, an out. If not a way to die, a way to forget."
Turning, Sayis raised an eyebrow. "You believe him? I guess you have your reasons."
With a sigh, the Soutaichou looked down, eyes lingering on the metal grating under them. "Imagine how different things might have been if you had died. You would have arrived in Soul Society as a child, a blank slate, just like I did. That's not a life devoid of tragedy or struggle, though, especially not where I lived. Even in the afterlife, people must fear for their lives, fighting to survive.
"Many people wish for a power such as yours, possibly as much as you wish you didn't have it."
Sayis closed his eyes. "Still... I don't understand you. That's why I could never help you."
“Well sure,” March said, feigning amicability, “you don’t understand me. I don’t even understand me. You understand more than most, though, and that’s the best we’re gonna get.”
It was March’s turn to lean back against the bridge’s railing. He returned his hands to his pockets as he watched Sayis, a half-smirk on his lips. “Really though, is there any point in imagining what could’ve been, what my death might’ve meant, or what others might’ve done with this ‘power’ of mine, had it manifested in them?
“I never wanted a life without tragedy or struggle. I’m not naïve enough to think that’s possible,” March pointed out. “I never wanted to fear for my life or fight to survive, either. Not necessarily. I just wanted to...to not...”
He trailed off. Either he’d run out of words...or he didn’t feel like sharing those he had.
“Oh!” he said instead. “About Schrödinger. If we’re being honest, I did my very best to not keep him alive. You just happened to pick a very...very...very...resilient cat. So it’s less my love of animals and more his love of not being kicked to death that’s kept him alive until now. I was hoping you’d take him back with you when you go. Otherwise he’s going to be a very lonely calico ghost-kitty in the near future.”
March shrugged. “You listed two possibilities our little Snowflake might’ve given me, and...at this point, Sayis, I’m not sure I’d trust a memory-wipe to fix everything that’s wrong with my crazy head. I don’t think I especially trust Raifuku, either...but I trust what his toys can do.” Almost absently, the immortal’s hand came up to touch at his collarbone. “I’ve seen it firsthand. And...well...‘seeing is believing’, as they say.”
Silence was the only response. This was not something Sayis was really equipped to handle or respond to. As a shinigami, his was to regulate the balance of souls, and the living had to die to preserve that cycle. There wasn't a single reason why he should prevent March's current, self-destructive path.
Self-destructive wasn't even the proper description. He was simply trying to bring closure to something he had never asked for.
Sayis sighed and awkwardly clapped March on the shoulder. "I'll take care of the cat. I hope for the best, I really do." Not meeting the immortal's eyes, he said, "Sleep well."
Thhe turned to leave.
March watched him go.
“Let’s just hope it sticks this time,” he murmured under his breath, his voice more solemn than it had ever been. He turned around and set his arms on the bridge railing, leaning on his forearms.
He stood there until dawn, but even after the sunrise had spilled light and color over the bay’s waters, to him it darker than ever.
“For everyone’s sake,” March said, “let’s hope it sticks.”
And then he left, too.