Olvido
"There's a hole in my heart as big as my heart." -X
Akane gasped and sat up in her bed, eyes straining to see her
nightmare visions come to life. Her lips were half twisted into
a name, a name that evaporated into the air. A chill touched her
nape and she slid back beneath the sheets. Sleep was long in
coming.
+++
Akane looked up from her breakfast for the third time. She was
sure that Kasumi was watching her, but she couldn't quite catch her at
it. Nabiki pushed back her bowl and snatched her books as she ran out the
door. Something tugged at Akane's memory.
"Where is Nabiki going?" Soun's newspaper twitched and
Kasumi gently put her chopsticks down. They exchanged a look
then Kasumi smiled sunnily.
"She's going to school, Akane-chan."
"Why can't I go?" Kasumi's smile faded a little bit.
"You are very sick, Akane."
"Oh." Akane thought about this for a little while, then shrugged
and left the table. She could almost hear the birds singing outside, and
the koi would want some company. She smiled. Fish couldn't get lonely.
+++
"Moshi Moshi!"
"Doctor Tofu?"
"Ah, hello, Kasumi. How is everything today?"
"Oh, Doctor, I'm worried. She asked about school today."
"Has she shown any other signs?"
"No."
"It should be fine, then. How are you holding up?"
"It's very hard, Doctor. She smiles sometimes, and it's almost
like before. But most of the time she sits and stares, or pads around the
house aimlessly. I caught her up the in attic one day, looking at mother's
wedding kimono..."
"You can't live like this forever, Kasumi. There are places that
have people trained to deal with her kind of problems,"
"No."
"Just let me give you their number, we can check,"
"No."
"I understand."
"..."
"K-Kasumi, I'd like to talk to you about it sometime. M-May I take
you to lunch?"
"I really can't..."
"It wouldn't be anything at all, please Kasumi..."
"Who would watch her?"
"Well, where is she now?"
"...."
"Kasumi?"
"Oh. Oh dear, Akane..."
"Kasumi? Kasumi?! Are you there? Kasumi!"
+++
A lone figure stood next to a snow-covered drift. The yard was
desolate, the one tree left standing was twisted and black, twigs
seeping through the winter sky like thin lines of poison through curdled
milk. The figure was shivering, her flannel pajamas plastered to her by
wind and wet. Her eyes remained fixed on the small shadow in front of her.
There weren't any fish, or any grass or leaves. There was a rock,
but it wasn't in the right place. It looked like it had been ripped
out, like a tooth, and left on its side. The girl's bottom lip began
to twitch and contort. The wind yowled in her ears, and suddenly
she couldn't take any more. She couldn't run, she could only cradle
her head in her hands and try to shut out the noise, shut it all
out, find him...
Arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. Akane smiled, then
frowned.
"Akane, you're freezing, your hands and feet are almost
blue!" Kasumi started to tug the shivering child toward the comfort
of the house. A little bit of tea and she'd be fine, then everything
would be okay again...
"Kasumi, something's happened. The pond...the pond." Tracks of
tears were freezing on Akane's cheeks. Kasumi stopped abruptly.
"Oh, Akane, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She drew the cold little girl
into her arms and felt the familiar sting of self-loathing. Tea wasn't
enough. Nothing was enough.
Two figures stood against the wind and wished for summer.
+++
The door creaked slightly as Kasumi entered, holding a small
platter. Akane shifted slightly in her sleep and sighed. The tall girl
The door creaked slightly as Kasumi entered, holding a small
platter. Akane shifted slightly in her sleep and sighed. The tall girl
carefully placed the platter on the nightstand, and scanned the room for
disorder. Last year, the room had been in shambles, blood stained the
sheets, the rug, the splintered bedposts. But now the room was back in
order, with the exception of a guilty cardboard box under Kasumi's bed. A
box that contained the unremarkable mementos of a teenaged girl in love.
Kasumi picked the hypodermic needle up from the platter. With
practiced ease, she slowly squirted a small amount of the liquid from the
needle, clearing it of air bubbles. Softly humming to herself, she lifted
the covers and exposed Akane's arm. A permanent purple bruise had formed
there, and she pierced the heart of it, pushing for the tired vein that
would rush the chemicals through Akane's heart and into her brain,
where...
"Kasumi?" She froze, syringe half-emptied. A terrible dread filled
her as she looked into her sister's face. Akane's pupils were as wide as
dinner plates. Her sister had never woken up for her medication
before. Seconds lurched by, and Kasumi felt her heart racing.
"Kasumi, where is he?" she managed to stutter out, before the
drugs held her completely in thrall. Kasumi flinched slightly, needle
coming out of her fingers to shatter on the floor next to Akane's bed.
+++
"Au matin j'avais le regard si perdu et la contenance si motte, que ceux
que j'ai recontres ne m'ont peutetre pas vu." -Rimbaud
Akane woke up counting. She could tell it was going to be a
wonderful day.
"1-2-3-4" She hummed the numbers, making them into her own special
song. "5-6-7-8" Numbers were definitely her friends. They could tell her
what day it was when her sister didn't want to say. "9-10-11-12" Move the
desk that only she could manage and find could tell her what day it was
when her sister didn't want to say. "9-10-11-12" Move the desk that only
she could manage and find the scratches in the paint on the
wall. "13-14-15-16" Stingy sister, trying to keep all the numbers to
herself. "17-18-19!" Yes, today was the day. Akane carefully scratched a
straight line next to all of the others. Just like a parade! Yes, today
was good enough for a parade. All the lines danced for a moment, inviting
her closer examination, but she shook her head and moved the desk back
into place.
A good morning stretch just wasn't the same without the sunshine,
so Akane flung open her curtains and...what was this? A pair of bloodshot
eyes under a shag of blue-black hair greeted her. A tiny squeak of dismay
escaped from her throat, and she drew her hand up to her mouth. The person
did the same. Akane breathed out a sigh of relief, but drew it back in
quickly. This was her? It was wrong, she wasn't skinny, her mouth wasn't
so white, her hair was short, not long and shaggy. A shaking hand touched
the image. No. This would not do.
Kasumi frowned at the cooling dish at Akane's place. Father had
already gone into the yard to tend the bonsai, and Nabiki had long since
run to school.
"Akane-chan?" No answer. "AKANE!" Her frown deepened. She stood
facing the wooden duck, willing herself not to relive another of her
fateful entrances into this room. Kasumi silently asked her mother for
strength, then opened the door. In the middle of the room sat Akane with a
pair of safety scissors poised over her head. Hair covered the floor like
an exotic carpet. Akane smiled and lopped off another lock. Kasumi felt
like adding a few clumps of her own hair to the mess. She sighed and
closed her eyes.
"Whatcha doin', sis?" The scissors fell to the ground, forgotten
in her curiosity.
"Counting, Akane-chan." There was a moment of silence, then she
felt a hand grip her arm.
"What numbers?" Kasumi's eyes blinked open and she regarded her
sister, covered with hair, like some kind of animal.."What
NUMBERS?" Akane's grip on her arm got tighter and suddenly Kasumi
remembered bricks broken, people flying through the air, him flying
through the air...
"Akane, I was just trying to stay calm." A light went out of
Akane's eyes, and her hand dropped back to her side.
"Oh. Not mine."
"Now may I help you with your hair? It must have been hard without
a mirror." Kasumi remembered, too late, that Akane's mirror had been
shattered on that day. She quickly scanned her sister's face for a
reaction, but there wasn't one.
"Please, Kasumi-chan." It was almost normal. An older sister
helping her younger sister out. Almost. Kasumi sighed and ushered her
sister into the bathroom, but not before Akane could steal a look back at
her desk. And her numbers.
"Daddy!" Soun poised the shears over the last branch of the bonsai
and prepared himself to face his youngest. He was so tired. Too many
ghosts. He sighed and looked up at the girl. His hand snapped the shears
together convulsively, ruining the bush.
"Akane! You...your hair!" Akane beamed a smile at him. For a
second it was as if he had gone back in time, back to when that smile
meant something and the fire of hope still burned bright in his chest. But
a closer examination showed him the thinness of her arms, the circles
under her eyes. A haircut couldn't give him his daughter back. A shadow
crossed over Akane's countenance, and Soun braced himself. She bent over
and picked up the severed branch.
"Daddy, it's all lopsided now."
"Perfection in imperfection, daughter. That seems to be the way of
our Art."
"Just like he was, right?" Soun felt his heart turn over.
"W-who do you mean, sweetheart?"
"Oh, nobody." Soun let it pass; any further conversation might
goad her memory even more. He decided to change the subject.
"Why don't you get a few flowers for Kasumi?"
"Why? Are we having guests?"
"The old ones are wilted and dead, Akane." Soun turned back to the
bonsai.
"Dead dead dead!" she agreed. "Dead Akane, dead dead!" He whirled
around to face his daughter, a slow chill working his way up his
spine. But she was already half way up the path, skipping cheerfully.
+++
Nabiki hated Saturdays.
She picked up her purse and her coat and headed for the door. The
silence around the lunch table was too much today, and she wanted to see her
friends as much as she could before college. College, it was such a
heavenly word. Nabiki had resented her father for running away from his
problems, but now she understood at least a little bit. A little part of
her died each time she looked into Akane's eyes. Today had been especially
bad: Akane had done something to her hair and Kasumi cut it back to the
way it had been. Before. Nabiki pulled on her shoes and was out the front
door, not bothering to announce her departure. Before was such a tricky
word. It implies there has to be an After. She paused at the front gate,
glancing back at the quiet house. After. What happened to the "Happily
Ever" part?
A deep sigh escaped her lips and she touched the gate handle, only
to have it pulled from her hands. Startled, she found herself facing a
wide chest. Nabiki's hand flew to her throat and her heart was suddenly
thundering in her ears. A martial artist's chest.
"Nabiki-san, I'm sorry!"
"Ryoga-kun." Stupid, she thought. Stupid, stupid. "What are you
doing here?"
He looked at the decrepit flowers in his hand. It would be easy to
just wander off again. How many times had he tried that, and how many
times did he find himself staring at that same gate? It was like a goddamn
beacon burned into his brain. He couldn't find his own house, yet here he
was, night after night, haunting this gate like a ghost...
"Ryoga-kun? Are you all right?" His eyes were drawn to hers, then
down to the flowers again.
"Y-yes. Yes."
"We haven't seen you for a year; what have you been up to?"
Ryoga almost shrieked with laughter. Staring at your gate, he wanted to
yowl. His jaw clenched convulsively. "Lost. I've been lost." He cleared
his throat. "Is Akane here?"
Nabiki looked away and sighed. Old faces didn't mean old
times. "Yes. She's inside." She hugged her coat closer to herself and felt
the cold breeze whisper through her hair. "But I have to leave."
"Oh, good-bye, Nabiki-san." But she was already gone.
Ryoga shrugged and trudged toward the house, throwing the flowers to one
side. The stems were ripped and broken from his fists. Only good for that
one thing, but not good enough, he thought sourly.
+++
When you hate yourself, everything is clearer,
Nothin' changes and it never will. -Cub
Kasumi looked up from brushing her sister's hair. "Daddy, would you get
the door?" But Akane was already up from her seat and rushing toward the
door. "Akane! No!" She never hurt any of them, but most neighbors and
sales people knew better than to go to that "crazy Tendo house." Some even
whispered about a family curse. Kasumi wondered about that herself
sometimes.
The door flew open and Ryoga found himself face to face with the youngest
Tendo. Her brown eyes lit up and she jumped into his arms, holding him
close to her. She was so small and warm, some faraway part of his brain
thought. Why had he waited so long? His arms wrapped around
her; everything was going to be fine. No more nights in front of the gate,
he was inside now.
Akane suddenly thrust him away from her and kissed his nose. "P-chan,
where have you been?" His eyes went wide and wild, then up to the eyes of
a figure standing behind Akane. The grim brown eyes of Kasumi Tendo. She
closed her eyes and shook her head. Akane pulled him inside. "You must be
so hungry, P-chan!"
Kasumi closed the door behind him. Yes, probably a curse.
+++
Ryoga was in hell.
That was the only explanation his mind could find. Akane had dutifully fed
him, then dragged him up into her room, where she was now cooing over him
like a good pet owner. He had tried to speak twice, each time confronted
with an odd look from Akane, who then went back to her cooing over P-chan.
Kasumi had given him a slightly accusatory look, then gone back into the
kitchen.
"P-chan, I have a secret!" Akane's declaration brought him out of his dark
train of thought. She patted him on the head and walked over to her
desk. His heart went cold when he saw how her pajamas hung on her once
sleek and muscled body. Where was his Akane? He recalled that fateful
night, carrying what he thought to be her corpse off the mountain. Even
all the blood had not compared to the horror of seeing her now.
She pushed aside the desk and smiled at him. The hollows in her cheeks and
under her eyes were ghost-like. Maybe that was a dead body he had
recovered, clutched close to him, just like the doll she had been so
shortly before. He shook the thought away.
"See, numbers!" She pointed at the lines in the plaster, organized in
wavering groups of five. The first few were tinted brown. Blood, Ryoga
realized. He winced. Akane smiled angelically. In her smile was the echo
of the rumbling boulders, a mountain being shaken and brought down, an
inhuman yowl of hate and loss.
"These first were hard to remember." Akane pointed to the first few
sets. "They go five, ten, fifteen, twenty." The figure had risen
unexpectedly behind the pair on the rock. It seemed like an eternity to
Ryoga, watching his pigtail whip around to face the god. Enough time to
whisper something to Akane and kiss her on the cheek. The god was blazing
white heat, dwarfing the silouhettes in front of him.
"Then the numbers became my friends. Hundred, hundred-five,
hundred-ten." He laid her gently down on the broken rock, wrapped in his
own shirt. The only colors in the world were white, black, and red. Too
much red.
"But then there were so many of them. They were a little scary
sometimes. Two-hundred fifty, two-hundred fifty-five, two-hundred
sixty." He had turned and faced the god. So small, Ryoga thought. But then
his aura flared into life, a bright blue pillar stretching up into the
heavens, piercing through the white blaze like sky through heavy cloud
cover.
"I was so afraid. Afraid that Kasumi-oneechan knew somehow. That she'd
take them away from me like everything else. Three-hundred twenty,
three-hundred twenty-five." No sound at first, then a growing rumble,
pierced with a keening cry that raked his heart. A growing blue swirl was
piercing the white blaze until they seemed almost meshed and drove down
into the mountain. The rumbling brought Ryoga to his feet. Oh no.
"Three-hundred forty, three-hundred forty-five." He meant to bring the
mountain down. He rushed to Akane's side, clutching her close to him. She
was so cold, yet with an oddly melancholy smile. He ran as fast and as far
as he could, down the mountain and away from the pitched battle. Tears
blurred the path in front of him, and bamboo whipped his arms and
face. The earth screamed in agony as the mountain was pulled up from
its foundation, darkening the sky and raining stones and dirt. A howling
hurricane of displaced air crushed the trees around him, forcing him to
lie flat on the ground, protecting Akane's body. A sudden silence of white
noise, then the mountain grew bright blue cracks and exploded into the
air. Over the terrible chaos, Ryoga thought he could hear his final
battle cry, filled with anguished fury: "Akane!"
He felt two hands cup his face, and was startled to see her brown eyes
glossy with tears. "Three-hundred and sixty-five, P-chan." Slowly her eyes
blinked and two trails of tears surged down her cheeks. They were clear
when she re-opened them. "Not P-chan. Ryoga." He braced for an impact that
never came. He felt her hands start to shake. "Ryoga, where is Ranma?"
+++
Y cada herida tiene
la forma de tu boca. -Pablo Neruda
The night had come slowly, sun tilting over the fence in maddening
fractions. Nabiki was still out, Soun was pretending to read a paper,
Akane and Ryoga were upstairs in her room, and this left Kasumi with open
hands. She leaned wearily against the kitchen counter, shoulders slumped
and face empty. In her apron pocket there was a number written on a scrap
of paper. A number she hadn't wanted to even think about, an abomination
from Dr. Tofu. But she found herself touching it, caressing it between her
fingers. He was only trying to help, and she was just so tired. Perhaps
it would be better for Akane to be out of the house, away from all the
memories that Kasumi was hard pressed to conceal. She touched the phone,
then drew her hand away from it sharply, as if burned. Mother. What would
mother think if she just gave up on her youngest? What could she say to
her shrine, 'Mom, I just sent your darling Akane to the looney bin?'
No. That wouldn't do. She shoved the scrap back into her pocket and
instead opened the cabinet above the sink. The vial of medicine gleamed
darkly from the shadows. Akane had only received a half-dose yesterday and
it led to all these troubles, with the haircut, and now Ryoga's visit.
Kasumi drew a fresh syringe from the specialized container and popped
the top off. She would be sure to give Akane the full dose today, then
everything could go back to normal. At times, she almost liked Akane that
way. So childish and playful, it was like before Mother died. She filled
the syringe and laid it on the tray. It really was for the best.
+++
Ryoga could hear the soft footsteps coming up the stairs, but he
was powerless: face held in Akane's hands, her eyes desperately
pleading an explanation. But what could he tell her? Didn't she already
know? Couldn't she guess? How in the world was he going to tell her
that his rival, her fiance, was, was...
"Akane! What are you doing to that poor boy?" Their heads snapped
in unison toward the tower of exasperated fury, Akane's older sister.
Ryoga had never seen her in such a state, long brown hair sprouting
untidily from her pony tail, apron stained, eyes so red and tired. Akane
jumped back, slamming herself into the misplaced desk. A small
wail escaped from her mouth as she tried to shield her precious count
of days from Kasumi. Kasumi charged forward and seized Akane's wrist.
"What is this? Just what exactly is this?" Kasumi glared back and forth
from the wall to the face of her shrinking sister. Ryoga stood up, but
the girls were oblivious to him. He clenched his fists and desperately
wished for a power to somehow make everything all right. Something
he could say, something he could do to make it all better.
"It's her numbers." The voice was his, but he really couldn't remember
saying the words. Kasumi glanced over her shoulder at him.
"Her what?" She shook her head as if to clear it, Akane's wrist still
firmly in her hand. "Ryoga, I think it's time for you to go home now."
Ryoga looked into her face, sheer terror drying his mouth. The gate.
How could anyone be so cruel as to resign him back to the gate? He
felt tears of frustration forming in his eyes. A sudden movement
aborted their progress. Akane yanked her wrist free, having caught
sight of the tray with the needle held firmly in Kasumi's other hand.
"Kasumi-oneechan, I don't want it! Please don't make me!" Akane's face
was pale beyond her seclusion. She pressed her back against the wall,
fingers furiously tracing her only hope, those thin lines in the plaster.
Ryoga thought she looked like a blind woman desperately searching for
an answer in braille.
"Akane, just calm down, it's bedtime. It will all be better in the
morning." Kasumi's kind words belied the tension in her shoulders and
face. Akane slid down the wall to sit in a ball on the floor.
"Please, no. I'm okay, Oneechan. I really am. I won't cause any more
problems." Her words were fast and frantic, searching her sister's face
for any sign of relenting. Kasumi continued to advance on her, needle
now in hand. Akane chanced a pleading look at Ryoga, who was frozen
to his spot in sad horror.
"This is for your own good, Akane. You'll feel much better afterwards."
Kasumi closed the distance, and Ryoga thought he could see a gleaming
drop of liquid on the tip of the needle. Akane suddenly shrieked and
dove between Kasumi's legs, knocking her down in the process. Kasumi
fell badly, wrenching one of her ankles. Akane got up to run and plowed
into Ryoga. His arms automatically wrapped around her and he could
feel her shaking against him. A dam burst and she was crying, crying
violently, so much so that Ryoga was afraid she'd rip herself apart
from the sobs wracking her body. He held her close, as close as the
day on the mountain when he was sure he'd die of heartbreak. He had
tried his hardest to keep what he thought was her corpse safe, but
the rocks had come down and new bruises and weals appeared on her
pale skin. More blood and more horror; he had blacked out himself during
the final barrage of the guts of the mountain. When he woke up he found
himself crouched over her, buried in rubble, the few pinpoints of light
illuminating her perfect face. At that moment, and now with her in his
arms once again, he felt that maybe it would have been better to stay
buried.
Buried. After all, that's what Ranma wanted, wasn't it? Only to be
buried with his slain love. I couldn't even give him that, Ryoga
thought. Instead, here we are. The room suddenly rose around him in high
relief. The slightly rumpled bed, the desk shoved aside, scratches on the
wall, last rays of a bleak afternoon gone now, replaced with a murky
winter night, too cloudy to even see the stars. Kasumi rubbing her ankle
with one hand, holding the needle determinedly in the other, her fall not
breaking her desire for normlacy. Akane against his chest murmuring a
litany of denials. Yes, better left buried.
"Please don't let her." His sense of surreality was replaced by her big
brown eyes, begging him to comply. "I want to remember. Please help
me remember." He felt the dirt and rocks above him; would he bother
digging them out this time? Ryoga nodded. Akane's eyes filled with
gratitude and the beginnings of one of her radiant smiles before she
stiffened, her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed into him.
Kasumi pulled out the needle and gave him a weak smile.
"Thanks for holding her still for me." His mind reeled with shock and
fury and denial. "Now would you help me put her to bed?" He could
only numbly comply. Kasumi was out the door with her tray and needle
before he could react. His breath started coming in gasps. Akane's
face was still and white, tucked snugly into bed. A sudden pain stabbed
him in the gut and he doubled over, crouching next to her bed. Tears
that had threatened for so long finally spilled over his cheeks and
he shuddered with sobs. He had tried so hard. He really wanted to help.
But they were buried.
+++
Tray in the cupboard, needle in the special container Dr. Tofu so kindly
provided. Fix a midnight snack for Nabiki's return, check the amount
of rice for tomorrow's meal. Apron off and folded to go in the drawer,
but then she stopped.
Kasumi stopped. Her hand was still on the apron. She smoothed the
front, feeling for the familiar crackle. There it was. She reached into
the pocket, then drew her hand out again. She closed her eyes then
forced her hand in and grabbed the scrap of paper. It was still the same.
Same name, same number. Still there. She traced the figures with
her eyes. And again. And again. And again, but this time they were
blurry. She brought it closer to her face, trying to decipher them, but
a fat drop fell onto the paper. Her arm fell limply to her side.
Kasumi stood alone in her dark kitchen.
--------
1) X- the punk band from LA, not the CLAMP creation.
2) In the morning I had a look so lost, a face so dead, that
perhaps those whom I met did not see me. -Rimbaud
3) And each wound has/the shape of your mouth -Pablo Neruda