He felt the cold metal slide under his palm, held it up to the light of the moon. Brilliant. Silver.
Cold, brilliant silver.
Moon silver.
Sighing, he tucked it away again, hearing it soft whisper as it slid home, a babe into a cradle. He caressed the soft leather wrappings.
Moon silver…
Looking back at the still figure on the bed, half wrapped in his blankets, bare arm tangled in his hair as he slept, oblivious, the moon silvering on his smooth naked back. In the darkness, an ivory statue. The light spilled on his hair, red. The moonlight. Red moonlight.
"I…"
He stared down at the katana in his hands again, wondering if the boy on the bed would kill him if he found him in here. Touching his belongings. Touching his sword. Realized he didn't really care.
The moonlight was a silvery cat rubbing along the edges of the walls as he removed the sword once again from its sheath, holding it in his hands. Thinking.
Silver tears.
Father…what happened? Mamoru…what happened to Mamoru? I came back to see him. I came all the way back…
Don't mention that name.
But…Father! What did you do with him? What?
Don't you dare mention that name!
You bastard! What did you do with Mamoru?
Don't mention that name! Ever again!
Mamoru!
Mamoru is dead!
He rose slowly, dropping the sheath, sliding like a soft flutter of a bird's wing to the ground. Raised the sword in the air, saw the silver moonlight glitter off the tip, like a star.
They used to watch the stars once, when he was little. He remembered. They had a garden, a big garden, with flowers.
So many flowers.
And sometimes at night Niisan would play the piano and he would lie in bed staring up at the ceiling in the dark, listening to the piano notes swirl around him, knowing that if he went downstairs all he would find would be darkness and the music falling about him like rain.
He remembered that too, remembered it all now. Picking it from the sludge of his memory, sticky like tar, painful like arrows.
Mamoru can't be dead. Why…why?
Give it up. It's a lost cause.
Masafumi…you know what happened. Don't you? Don't you care? He was your brother!
Brother, whatever…it's all the same to me. I have more important things to worry about.
I…
Give it up, Hirofumi. Even if he isn't dead, what makes you think you can find him? He's probably a million kilometers away right now.
I…
Looking back at the boy on the bed, raising the katana in trembling hands. He ran a hand along the edge of the blade, feeling its sharpness. He raised his hand. Blood pooled along the shallow cut on his palm and he licked the pearling droplets away shining silver in the moonlight. It tasted like…
Silver blood.
Niisan had read him a book about a man with silver blood once. It was about a king and a castle far away on the edge of the world. A beautiful princess, a unicorn and a dragon, a knight in shining armor.
Silver armor.
The floor was hard and cold beneath his bare knees. He should really get some longer pants. They were always urging him to do that…even in the summertime.
He placed the tip of the sword against his chest, feeling the blade through his clothing.
Silver death.
Look, Hirofumi, I can't have you moping around all day. If you're not going back overseas, I need you to make yourself useful.
Useful…there's nothing I can do. Nothing I want to do. Not for you.
What do you mean?
You're dirty.
Don't make me laugh.
You're dirty, Masafumi.
Still mourning over that brat, are you?
I won't give up. He's not dead. He can't be dead!
Niisan. I'll make a deal with you, just so you'll quit sitting here all day. All right?
…What?
Father's given me some projects. More than I can handle. If you see to them, I'll see what I can do about finding the kid.
How…how can you do that?
I have contacts. Father's entrusted me with the company…I can do that, you know. I can do anything. If you help me.
I…
Hirofumi.
You're dirty.
He closed his eyes and in them he could see again the screaming car, the tires on asphalt. Feel himself release the arrow.
The eyes through the windshield, looking at him with sudden shock and understanding. And then nothing.
Seven years…so long ago. Past and present and future all colliding at that one moment when the car skidded out of control on the highway, brushing past him with all the force of a whirlwind, the driver slumped over the wheel.
The boy on the bed mumbled something in his sleep, too low for his ears to catch, rolled over on his side so that one arm dangled limp over the edge of the bed. Covers slipped off almost to his waist. Red hair spread over the pillow.
He watched for a moment as the movements ceased, then pressed the katana to his breast.
Tasted the tears on his cheeks as they streamed into his mouth, ticking on the bare floor.
Crying softly, he looked up at the moon.
What? What do you mean, Masafumi's dead?
Gomen, Hirofumi-san. He was attacked in his laboratory. His bodyguards…they couldn't save him.
Does my father know?
He knows.
And?
The company is in your hands, Hirofumi-san. Temporarily.
So.
Masafumi. You lied. You lied to me.
But…I really didn't expect anything else, did I? Wasted dreams.
I'm trapped. I was a fool.
Mamoru…
"Omi!"
He whirled, clutching at nothing, the sword falling to the ground with a clang.
The dark figure was sitting up stiff in the bed, hand clutching at sheets, lavender eyes wide in the darkness.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
He closed his eyes. No.
"Don't…"
"Omi!"
Strong hands catching him as he fell, and his tired muscles released, going limp against a broad chest and he sobbed as if the pain would never stop and the night would never lift. He felt the chest muscles contract with the other's breathing, awkward hands on his shoulders, holding him.
The sword was sharp against his knee and he could feel it cutting him, ever so slightly.
Silver blood.
"Aya-kun…I'm so sorry."
The hands released him slowly, reached down to grab the katana and slide it back into its sheath, almost roughly. "Are you crazy? What the hell."
"Gomen…gomen nasai…"
Who-who are you?
Stop!
Who are you?
Did you ever have a brother…a younger brother? Named Mamoru Takatori?
Mamoru…
Answer me! Did you? Where is he?
Mamoru! He's alive…You're alive! Mamoru…you're Mamoru, aren't you? Don't you remember me? Your niisan. Hirofumi! We used to play together!
We…I…
Mamoru! I've missed you…I came back and you were missing…
Niisan.
Mamoru!
Niisan!
"Aya-kun…I'm dirty."
"Don't talk like that."
"I'm a Takatori. It's my family you're trying to kill…that I'm trying to kill. I killed my brother tonight, Aya-kun. What kind of man am I going to become?"
Strong arms.
"Aya-kun! I'm Takatori. Takatori…"
"No."
He raised his head. Lavender eyes gazed back at him, hard and cold as silver, hot and burning as molten silver. He felt himself swimming in their depths.
"You hate me. For what my father did."
"No."
"You-"
"You are not Takatori Mamoru. You are Tsukiyono Omi. Omi."
The tears threatened to choke him again. "Aya…you hate me…I'm dirty…I'm…"
"And I don't recall that you have ever been anyone else."
I don't want to do this, Mamoru. But it's too much. You know that, don't you? When you disappeared…
I'm not the same man I was then. I can't go back. We can't ever go back.
I never wanted to hurt you.
Masafumi…I'm trapped. Just as you knew I would be. You never intended to find our brother, did you? You lied to me. I knew that. And I thought I was strong, stronger than you. And now I can't break free.
That's right, Mamoru. Resist me. I want to hit you harder. I want to feel your flesh thudding to the rhythm of my blows. I want you to hurt like I hurt when I lost you.
No one is going to take me away from you again. Not ever. It's all your fault. All your fault. I loved you too much, and you destroyed me. So I'm going to keep you here with me. So you can't ever leave again. I want you here. Forever and ever.
Masafumi was right.
What have I become?
Mamoru…I'm sorry.
"Aya…" he was still crying. He couldn't stop. "What have I done?"
Strong hands, holding him. "Tsukiyono Omi."
Tsukiyono Omi. He had always been Tsukiyono Omi. Not anyone else. Not ever.
"Why?"
Mamoru…
It's all right. I've found you.
At last.