http://clampfix.fanworks.net/others/grass.txt </head><body><pre>Warnings: Shounen ai. Spoilers for Clover through Volume 4. All characters are copyright CLAMP and Kodansha. This is a fanwork written for entertainment purposes only. Thanks to Jonna and Nat-san for convincing me that this one wasn't too fluffy to post. Feedback would be welcomed with open arms! - Kristin Olson kolson00@yahoo.com Indigo [Clover fanworks] --> http://sekaiseifuku.net/index.html * * * * Grass * * * * A boy lay on the hillside amid grass skimmed by rising sun. Morning made the bright slope shimmer, made the cloth of his white shirt glisten like a cloud in high summer. The air glowed gold and blue, while a young wind blew the fragrance of aquamarine, salt mingled with sweet. In the paling sky, one or two immutable stars clung to the horizon opposite dawn. The boy tilted his chin, admiring their tenacity; he had a particular appreciation for the persistence of light. Long leaves rustled, shifting and bowing, as he folded his hands behind his head. His eyes, upward-gazing, were calm and clear, their irises an enigmatic gray that could shade without warning to blue, then violet, then obsidian. His limbs were lithe as the blades surrounding him. He might have been seventeen. Above him a swallow arced, a small, dark comet, and with pleasure he watched it glide, scripting boundlessness into the lucent air. Beneath the flutter of wings, grass, and his own breathing, there was a distant hush, the rumbling purr of something vast and playful, expectant and content. He sat up to look outward, over the wide expanse of sand that girded and shone like the obi of a girl's yukata, beyond that, to the sea. Maybe today, when the sun rose higher, he would go swimming. It seemed he might even have some company for that. From behind him came the rhythmic shush and hiss of grass parted by footsteps, the shift of weight settling. Then, a moment later, a voice. "So this is where you went." He did not turn; he did not need to just yet. "Do you like it?" He smiled. "I made it." In the sky a second swallow joined the first. Together the two birds dove and cried, circling in revolution around one another. "I didn't know that was allowed." "I think it was a reward for good behavior." He stretched mightily, as though to shake off long sleep. The sea before him surged, spraying white, saying welcome, welcome, welcome. Wind fingered his dark hair, and idly he pushed back the strands that caught in his lashes. "You should see Suu's place. It's even bigger." Before speech, a familiar and beloved silence. "But isn't it lonely here?" The boy turned his head. Kneeling behind him, looking somewhat awkward in civilian clothes, even now, was a tall, broad-shouldered man of not quite thirty. His hair gleamed silvery-blond, the color of dawn on grass. His face was that of a hunter, his gaze a keen, focused hazel. For the first time in that world or any other, their eyes met with no encumbrance. "No," Ran said. Elsewhere, the planets resumed wheeling. Ran wriggled around to face Gingetsu, the scent of crushed green stalks floating upward as he did. "No questions?" he asked. "No 'what happened,' 'where am I,' 'how did I get here,'?" Gingetsu frowned his considering frown. Fascinated, Ran observed the drift of introspection through the hazel eyes, like cloudshadows on an open prairie. He had never been able to watch before. At last the fog dissipated into resolution, and Gingetsu looked directly at him. "How are you?" Ran blinked for a moment, then doubled over, covering his mouth to hold in laughter. Did Gingetsu realize where they were? "I'm fine," he managed. "I couldn't very well be bad. Is that all?" "I have an idea of what happened," Gingetsu murmured. A tiny flinch furrowed his brow for an instant, no longer, as though with the involuntary memory of pain. "And where this is. How is not important." Well, Ran reasoned, he always had been the practical sort. Military training did that to people. "It's not just beach. There's a house that way," he said, pointing with his chin, "right over the hilltop. No locks on the doors. I leave the windows open." He held out his hand. "Wanna see it?" Gingetsu looked at the outstretched palm with something like disbelief, and Ran berated himself. Just because the man wasn't asking questions, it didn't mean Gingetsu wasn't confused. In the beginning there was a lot to absorb--Ran recalled that well enough. He would have to restrain his enthusiasm, even as it leaped inside him with puppyish joy that at last, at last this person was near, and for once, as never before, they had as much time as they wanted. He stood up, arm still extended, and stepped just a little nearer. "Come on," he said softly. "I want to show you." Dubiously, as though not quite certain that he really did possess a hand, but willing to be convinced of it, Gingetsu reached. Ran clasped that hand, laced their fingers inextricably, and pulled him to his feet. It was like teaching a toddler to walk, he supposed, except that toddlers generally did not question the existence of their own bodies. "Later we can go swimming. The water's warm." Watching emotion flicker like heat lightning across the bemused blank of Gingetsu's face, he smiled. "Gingetsu, have you ever built a sandcastle?" "No." "Didn't think so." He swung their joined hands back and forth as they walked homeward, leaving a vanishing trail in the grass of heaven. * * * The next day, Ran stood lazily at the kitchen table, wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else. Sunlight from the open bay window warmed his back; wood floor lay smooth and clean under his sockless feet. He was cracking eggs, pouring the yolks into one silver bowl and placing the empty shells in another, when a white bird flew in through the window. It hovered for a moment, then alighted on the empty chair across from him and blinked upward with uncanny intelligence. He smiled. "Hello, Suu." The bird became a girl, although her wings were not lost in the transformation. She was pale and thin, with eyes the color of new leaves. Those eyes flickered to the tabletop, noted the two plates laid out there, and then glanced toward the ceiling as though they could see right through it. Perhaps they could. "You must be glad," she said. He ducked his head, trying to hide the pink-tinged glow in his face even as Suu leaned nearer to examine it. "Well, not glad about what happened, since that must have hurt. But I'm glad to see him again." "He's upstairs?" "Shaving. Or thinking that he is." At that her lips pressed together, as if to keep a scandal from bursting out. "Don't laugh," he warned. "You know as well as I do that giving up habits isn't easy." "I know." She watched him take up the wire beater and whip the eggs into a uniform, milky gold, add a few spoonfuls of water, then stir again. "You're making breakfast." "Yeah." He carried the bowl over to the counter by the stove, set it beside the cutting board laden with vegetables. "Is there some for me?" "Sure." Reaching for a frying pan, he glanced at his choppings and decided to cut a few more green onions. Knowing Suu, it had likely been quite a while since she'd indulged in the admittedly earthly pleasure of a meal. She'd never really learned to cook during life. "Why don't you stay and eat with us?" Suddenly she was nose to nose with him, peering intently into his face. "You say that," Suu said, with oracular deliberation. "But what you really want is for it to be just the two of you, so you can sit on his lap, and feed each other bits of omelette, and wind up on the kitchen floor." Ran set down his bundle of slim, long-leaved bulbs, meeting her gaze mildly. "I just thought I'd offer." Really, he thought, one never knew what the Four-Leaf was going to say next. She had a point, to some extent. But the kitchen floor? Suu nodded solemnly. "You're nice," she said, pivoting aside. "If you make me one now, I'll eat it and go away." Laughing, Ran poured a drop of oil into the pan, flicked on the flame of one burner, and mused on the tyranny of little sisters. This place had been good for Suu--she was no longer timid about asking for what she desired. How that was going to work out when Kazuhiko finally arrived, he wasn't sure. It must be complicated, he thought, being in love with more than one person. Things had always been simpler for him. "What do you want in it?" "Everything." She walked towards the window through which she had flown, looking out at the grass-covered dunes. "You can't see the water from here," she remarked. "You can from upstairs." Ran nudged the eggs with a spatula, listening to them crackle, then began to sprinkle in tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, cheese. Once again Suu aimed her eyes at the ceiling. "Does he like it?" she asked. "He likes a house with me in it." Ran flushed at himself for saying such a thing, although he had no doubt of its truth. "I don't think the details matter so much." "Hmm." She turned as he handed her the finished omelette. It steamed on the blue plate below her poised fork. "Thanks." She took a bite, chewing gingerly around the heat. "You're nice." "I could teach you to make them," he said. "It's really easy. Here, come and watch." She did, observing every move he made with spatula and vegetables as a revelation. "It would be easier to use magic," she said at last, chasing the remaining bites on her plate. "That takes all the fun out of it." Ran slid the second omelette onto another plate, covered it with tinfoil, and held it out to Suu. She cocked her head at him. "For Oruha," he said. "You'd better take it to her while it's still hot." The stairs creaked beneath a footfall. Three-Leaf and Four-Leaf turned to see Gingetsu descending from above, dressed in a white cotton bathrobe, still rubbing his chin and looking slightly confounded. When he noticed the winged girl in the kitchen, however, he stopped. Astonishment flared in his naked eyes. Suu's gaze roamed up and down the blond-haired man with interest before settling at last on his face. "You lost your sunglasses." Gingetsu blinked. "I don't need them here," he replied faintly. Suu nodded. "Thanks," she said to Ran, taking the full plate from him and returning the empty one. "It was good." "If you come back later, we might be at the beach," he told her, and she nodded again. "I can find you," she said. Then she was gone. Ran looked down at the plate in his hands. It gleamed as though it had just been scrubbed; not a speck of egg remained. "Well, she washed it, anyway." He shook his head. "Oruha and I have been trying to teach her, but her manners are still kind of eccentric." Setting the plate on the counter, he turned and smiled at Gingetsu, who seemed to have recovered enough to wander down the remaining steps and come to sit at the table. Unable to resist, and in fact not the least interested in resistance, he perched himself on the available lap. "What do you want in your omelette?" he asked. "Anything is fine," Gingetsu murmured. Confronted with bare skin, his eyes began to unfocus. Ran suspected that the question of omelettes was not such a pressing issue. Thinking of Suu's prophecy, he glanced down at the floor. The Four-Leaf Clover was so rarely wrong. * * * Their castle by the sea was crumbling, its walls breached, its proud towers corroded to lumpy stubs. Gingetsu glanced at Ran, who shrugged, his expression matching the green-blue waters behind him in serenity. "We'll build a new one. Let's try to put a bridge in it this time." At once he began to plot out a site for their next Sans Souci, marking schematics in the sand with his bare toes. It must have come from working with computers, Gingetsu reflected. The boy had a tolerance for making and remaking that he, whose missions often permitted one chance only, had never possessed. Still, it seemed that here, at least, there was plenty of time. Perhaps he could learn that kind of patience. "If we're going to make a bridge, we need some kind of structural support," Ran said, eyes narrowed. "I'll go get some sticks. Here." He handed to Gingetsu the sun-yellow bucket he'd brought from the house, and then he was off, jogging over the moist sand, leaving footprints like fragments of shadow behind him. Gingetsu watched him go, breathless with the ease, the casual freedom of that leggy stride, the gleam of midday striking dark hair. What had it been like, when Ran had first come to this place? Had he been as bewildered, as tentative about things like walking, breathing, simply existing--let alone running along the shore, kicking up froth in the waves, building castle after tireless castle--as Gingetsu felt now? But perhaps that's what death is for, he thought. To remind us how to live when we've forgotten. Slowly Gingetsu lowered himself to sit on the sand beside the ruins of yesterday's fortress. The sun on his shoulders was hot, but not scalding; Ran had said that sunburn was not a worry. Considering the amount of time the boy seemed to spend outside here, it had to be true: Ran's skin was not quite as pale as it had been during his years of confinement, but nearly. Now he was splashing in the water, all cages forgotten, wet to the bottom of his black swim trunks, his hands empty of anything that might be construed as a stick. Were there even sticks to be found? Gingetsu supposed that if Ran wished for them hard enough, there would be, in the same way that there were eggs and vegetables for fixing breakfast, tables and chairs for sitting, bed and pillows and sea-scented sheets for making love, so slowly and ardently it was almost fearsome. Really, he had not expected to be able to do such things after death. He had not expected much from death at all. Then again, he had learned even while living that heaven was found in the ordinary. It was in coming home, in making curry rice, in talking and listening. In resting in the sanctuary of upturned gray eyes. In drinking tea. He was just thinking that they should have brought a thermos when a musical voice called out in greeting. "Well, lieutenant colonel, it's been a long time." There was no mistaking that lilt. Gingetsu climbed to his feet. If nothing else, he wanted the advantage of height over the approaching person. He turned, squinting at the sight of not only Oruha, but Suu as well, both in bathing gear, making their way down the sand. Oruha's swimsuit, to his unsurprise, seemed designed more to display skin than conceal it. Suu had abandoned her feathery wings of the morning in favor of an inflatable set attached to her one-piece, and she carried a blue-and-white beach umbrella longer than she was tall. Oruha was holding a wicker basket. Gingetsu hoped it might at least contain some form of consumable liquid. Setting down the basket, Oruha offered him her hand. "It's good to see you," she said, smiling a cat-in-cream smile. "I heard you just blew in." Frowning, Gingetsu nodded. "Yesterday." Had it been yesterday? His frown deepened. "I think." Oruha laughed. "You haven't changed, have you? It's impossible to keep track of time here, so don't fret over it." Turning to Suu, she gestured at the remains of the castle. "Sweetheart, why don't you put the umbrella up? That blob there would make a good base." Nodding, Suu did as instructed. Oruha watched her for a moment, as though to check that the girl wasn't going to bury the wrong end in the ground, then turned back to Gingetsu. "I wanted to say thank you to your honey," she said. "The omelette was excellent. I presume you got some, too?" "Yes," Gingetsu said. "I did." "Well, good. Oh, and there he is." She beamed as Ran came dashing up, his hands full of driftwood. "Thank you for breakfast. It was wonderful." "You're welcome," he said to her, and lifted his prizes for Gingetsu to see. "I found these." They were, Gingetsu thought, a very likely set of sticks. He nodded approval. Oruha's eyes danced back and forth between the two of them, sparkling. "What's this?" "We're building a castle," Ran explained. "With a bridge in it. These are for structural support." "'We'?" One carmine-painted fingertip flicked at Gingetsu. "Him, too?" "Yeah. Want to help?" Pursing her lips, Oruha looked sidelong at Gingetsu. It was possible to identify the precise instant in which she saw the yellow bucket dangling from his hand. He endured for as long as he could, then turned his head to look at the ocean. The waves remained calm, he observed. Very calm. "Oh," Oruha said, "I think I'd rather watch." From her basket she produced a large terrycloth blanket, spread it beneath the umbrella, and arranged herself to enjoy the proceedings in comfort. At first Gingetsu thought it would be intolerable, but somehow, gradually, with Ran carefully aligned between himself and the lounging audience, he began to recover the pleasure he'd discovered yesterday, when the two of them had been alone, ramparts and turrets taking shape under their hands. "Such a good idea of Ran's, to make a beach," Oruha purred. "We don't have one in our neighborhood." Suu glanced up from her own construction project, which suspiciously resembled a birdcage. Gingetsu was positive that sand could not be made to do the things Suu was making it do without esoteric interference. "I could still add one," the Four-Leaf pointed out. "But then you wouldn't have any reason to come and visit." Ran sat back on sandy haunches, surveying the foundations they'd laid. He scooted around toward Gingetsu's side. "Think this wall should be thicker?" He pointed. "It's thick enough," Gingetsu murmured. He handed Ran the first of their arsenal of sticks. "Okay." "I'd still come," Suu said. "We'd come for your cooking, dear," Oruha assured him. "It's better than Kazuhiko's ever was." At the sound of that name, Gingetsu straightened, surprised that Oruha should mention it so casually. Ran, however, seemed unperturbed, lifting his head only to add, "Just don't tell him that when he gets here." Perhaps there was no taboo against gossip about the living. * * * A low moon hung over lofty spires, silvering the arch of a castle bridge. Night breeze taunted leafy banners and teased them into flight. Above the fortress, sprawled on a blanket laid over grass, Gingetsu and Ran watched the moon push toward zenith, full and slow, as though moving through deep water. Gingetsu's limbs lay heavy with that same indolence, his breathing shallow with the weight of Ran's head on his chest. In the end, he had to be grateful to Oruha, who'd lent them the blanket when she and Suu departed, just before sunset. It was a little sandy, but so were he and Ran; a little sand didn't seem like much to mind when the sky glittered so crystalline above, and the dunes rolled warm beneath them. "So," he murmured. "Other than building sandcastles, and lying in the sun, and this--" Ran squirmed charmingly. "--there's not much to do here, is there." A slim hand covered his mouth, sealing surprise within it. "Don't say that. Don't think it." Ran's head lifted; Gingetsu felt breath fall hushed and urgent on his brow. "See? Look out there." Propping himself up on one arm, he followed Ran's glance toward the jet sheen of the waves. Far in the distance, what seemed to be a pair of earthbound stars were traveling, making steady progress along the night sky. Then the forward star flickered, winking on-off, on-off in a cryptic language of light and dark. Gingetsu narrowed his eyes, straining. A ship? "That's not mine," Ran whispered. "I see them sometimes, passing by. If I think thoughts like that." Gingetsu went still. All around them the grass told secrets, furtive and knowing. "Then this isn't forever." "It can be. But I guess most people get bored pretty fast, and then go back." He thought about that. "You've been here a while," he murmured to the boy curled against his side, felt the answering headshake. "It's like Oruha said. The sun rises and sets if you expect it to, but really there's no time. Especially not if you're waiting for somebody." For somebody, indeed. With a soft murmur he reached to smooth the sleek strands of hair from Ran's temples. Had there ever been a time when this person was not waiting for him? And himself always trailing, lagging, chasing a runaway through dizzying rain, slow to find, slower yet to understand that in reality he was the one being led, being circled in patient, unstinting arms. Near his free hand a blade of grass curved into a sliver of moonlight. Patches of it had been flattened when they laid out the blanket, and some of the stalks were bowed now, others smashed nearly to the ground. But it was not the grass of earth, with leaves that sprouted, stretched, and gleamed full green only to shrivel and brown. Here there were no new shoots, none dead or dying. If they returned to this spot tomorrow, he was sure, there would be no sign of damage, no record of their presence at all. But even on earth, who noticed the fall of a single leaf, the wilting of one blade of grass? Only the leaves nearest the fallen, Gingetsu thought. They felt, and they remembered. "Your brother," he murmured. "The other one. He isn't here?" "B? He went back. It was just after I came, so I did get to say goodbye. I think he really wanted to forget everything, and you forget when you go back." Ran's words crept against his skin. "But I think I understand why most people decide to go. I guess it's like...how kids want to ride a rollercoaster over and over. You know? It's scary and it makes you scream, but still, you want to do it again." Remembering all that life had done to Ran, Gingetsu wondered if he himself would be willing to face fate again after that. "Do you?" he asked quietly. "Yeah," Ran murmured. "Sometime. But you just got here." Limbs shifted over his chest to form a slender barrier between his heart and the world-spanning sea. Gray eyes full of moon lifted to him, dragging him nearer with the force of tides. "Don't go. Not yet." He let them pull, let the waves draw him under. "I'll stay." Kisses were the same, even in paradise. Grass rustled, and crickets hummed. Later, when he retrieved the presence of mind to be startled, he looked at the peaceful smile nestled against his shoulder. "Since when do you know about rollercoasters?" "Suu has one, at her place. With a double inside-out loop." "Ah." The girl who had everything, he thought--almost. She, too, was waiting. Together with Oruha, watching for the last leaf to fall. "Want to ride it?" His own waiting was done. It seemed there was nothing much to do in heaven, other than be happy. And be someone's happiness, as well, until the dark ships came to carry them away. "Maybe tomorrow," he said. He hoped that when that time came, they could go together. * * * *</pre><p><a href="./">Back</a></p><p><a href=http://www.dreamhost.com/donate.cgi?id=216><img border=0 alt="Donate towards our web hosting bill!" src=https://secure.newdream.net/donate1.gif></a></p></body></html>