Fading Planet

CLAMPraven

Author’s notes:

Nothing much to say about this chapter except that, if I don’t establish Byakuren’s personality right now, she will never have one! Yikes.

The truth is, she originally had one, and a very cute one at that, but then another one of my characters that appeared earlier on in the story decided to snatch away her shine. (I won’t say the little bugger’s name.) Of course, I only agreed to lend it to this other character because she was an important hinge in her section and hell, she used it well, swear to god. But now my beautiful and singular American character doesn’t have a quirk.

So now Byakuren’s left with one of my, how you say, emergency rainy day personalities. Until she can foster a more interesting one. *gulps* Here’s hoping I manage to figure out a justifiable solution while I’m jotting down ideas! I’ve already established the fact that she’s going to change a lot. And she will. As soon as I stop hurling objects at the wall. *holds out suggestion box weakly* Heeeelp meeeee....

Sorry about the delay! Ne, the entire Fading Planet saga is getting so completely long that it’s having glitches uploading on my computer. Look out for future updates on a sequel to help make your life easier and mine! It won’t logically be a sequel, just a continuation. But it’d help readers immensely.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

All that is Sincere and Momentary

Shiraho was happy.

She was hired after only thirty minutes of meeting this young woman, Hakkou Byakuren. Granted, her heart thumped crazily throughout the entire interview, and she didn’t listen very well, did she? Shiraho was scared, more scared than anything, and she wasn’t afraid to admit it to Inu-wan afterwards. She was too busy wondering whether she was doing a good job, whether or not Byakuren would see what her true intentions were, if she was so naive as to believe she was going to carry out her first assignment flawlessly...!

It was frightening to knock on the door, more than anything. The fragrance wafting from the shrine was diluted with wetness and dust, a meek scent of camomile and cigar ash wafting through the air. The door creaked open with a heavy groan. She exchanged greetings with the person at the door, and was relieved to find that, yes, she was talking to the owner.

Her feet were cold on the wood floor, polished and unmarked, and she wondered at it. This shrine...it was very old, and even the very air inside it shouldered the weight of a thousand unspoken ghosts, but the slight breeze from the balcony was of flowers and crystals of splashing water. The sound of the wind chimes above her head reverberated off of the walls like caresses of swallow wings, gentle, innocuous. Everything in this abode was sacred, nothing damaged, nothing unkempt, an epoch in ancient time unscathed.

Inu-wan had led her through the enormous shrine, just as he’d promised to. They followed the owner as a path was weaved in the midst of fragrant wonders. Shiraho couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of three golden canaries in a hanging birdcage, chortling and cooing. Her hands ran along the walls and grasped the stems of potted lilies. Her fingers came away with the smell of earth, and of faint sugars in the ground.

Her feet could feel the subtle change as she wandered into a dark closet by accident, and the cold reminded her of shadow; she tapped her leg demurely and Neko-Keigo scampered out before the owner could see.

“Let’s you and m-me meet again, soon, l-later,” Neko-Keigo had whispered. “B-By the light, um, the door.”

Shiraho continued walking on, through patches of warn sunshine and discreet passageways. She was awed and humbled by the sound of her bumbling echo thumping about as it ran across high ceilings, shutters and bamboo walls, with the air of a crazed man blindfolded and gagged. There was a mystery and a wonder about the place, and she was frightened and awed.

There was a magnitude, too, a massiveness and an intensity, an old unexplored mausoleum that seemed to call out to her as it unfolded beneath her footsteps, shallow and small, ultimately discovering and altering nothing in its wake. The temple was no more foolishly serene than a forested expanse, stretching miles and miles; she could stand still, fool her ears into crafting elaborate pathways and crevasses, and she fell in love with it.

-

They’d sat down in the meeting space. She’d talked to Hakkou Byakuren, whose voice was softer than the pale sunshine in autumn. She couldn’t believe that this woman was the source of all of Inu-wan’s suspicion.

She could already guess that her new employer was beautiful. She heard the gentle rustling of kimono, lapping waves against the woman’s legs. There was a grace to her walk even in the silence of it, and she couldn’t help but admire this elegant foreigner. To live in a place like this, with a name so lovely that she envied Byakuren without any reason why! A name that, after it was given to her, she was stunned and sad to give back. But of course, Shiraho could never help it. Inside her heart, she’d always wanted to be named after a flower. 

“I need you as...translator,” the owner had spoken to her, haltingly, in broken Japanese. Her voice was tinged with an accent that seemed to flow against her will, as they sat down delicately onto the tatami mats. “I need help buy groceries, make-up. I need help ride in trains, in taxis, get to places, order meals from telephone. I need you help advise...Japanese relations? Manners...manners?”

“Customs?” Shiraho tried.

“Yes, customs,” Byakuren answered gratefully. Her laugh was polite as she poured her some more tea, almost sparkling. Steam wafted from the brimming green-black concoction, and the smell was of the death of summer. “I have no customs, sorry. No manners. I need advice, mainly advice.”

Shiraho unwittingly breathed a sigh at that. Thank goodness! She couldn’t really advise Byakuren on manners, after all. “I think I can help.”

There was a pause. She could almost feel Byakuren studying her, as though she were some strange and uncommon butterfly. And then the young owner sighed and said something peculiar. “You already help.” 

-

From that day on, Shiraho worked hard and rolled up her sleeves. It was a stunning proposition, even after she’d accepted it, and she marvelled at the thought, humbled by the task put in front of her.

She had never, not ever been paid for something she’d done before! Why, it was like a real job...even if the real reason, the investigation, was secret from her young and pretty boss, she was going to definitely treat it like she would a job. And that meant hard work and no quitting – no slacking, no complaining, and dressing prim and properly, too!

As her father always said, she, Kaiki Shiraho, was born to carve an everlasting impression on the world. She’d never quite believed it, funny as it was. But in the presence of Hakkou Byakuren, she would do her very best. For everyone.

Tsukene had called her house the other day, while Amagi wasn’t home. She’d been combing the knots out of her hair vigorously when the phone rang, and was afraid to find it to be her father...but luckily it wasn’t. Apparently he’d heard about her field agent proposition and, though he was a touch worried that she’d accepted it – like any adult would be, she imagined, though blushed when she did – there was a hint of pleasure in his voice, as though he’d expected to find her there all along.

“Good luck in the future, Shiraho-san,” he’d congratulated her. “Be careful! Listen to Inu-wan. Starting out under his tutelage...I can’t imagine a brighter beginning for you.”  

She’d almost cried at that. What a gentle assertion! Tsukene was always so kind. Her face was completely red, and she managed to utter a hasty “thank you”, gripping the receiver with sweaty palms.

“Though he hadn’t told me what case you were aiding him with. Did he tell you?”

“Um...”

He’d also asked her, curiously enough, whether she’d seen Tetsujin around lately.

She blinked. “I haven’t, actually.” Now, there was a surprise. Tetsujin not on the trains? She pondered at that! She hadn’t had a chance to see him lately, though she rode the train, but she’d always imagined...well, he was probably away somewhere. Visiting out of town, as he always did. “I’m sorry. Is something the matter?”

There was a curious pause on the line. She could almost imagine Tsukene smiling, a smile full of secrets, because his response was as contented as she’d ever heard him. “No, it’s nothing...just a bit of good news I’d like to pass along. Thank you for you help, Shiraho-san.”

-

She began to work more and more for Byakuren, day after day.

Neko-Keigo was dropped off at her house every afternoon and trailed her shadowy coattails every evening. Inu-wan would stay up night after night, analyzing the information and waking up at odd hours of the evening to take a walk.

“These results are completely inconclusive. That idiot cat still hasn’t been able to find a single relevant thing regarding the shrine...no clues, no signs of monsters, not even a history! It’s giving me insomnia. I know she’s not doing it right, I just know it, but I can’t file a damn report on her with her whole immunity clause, taking care of the Shuuchiku girl and the invalid for the good of the team and all.” He squinted at the stained report papers he’d been given. “What the hell is with her and this obsession with coffee?”

Shiraho, in the meantime, was writing up her file report of activities. There was nothing there, of course, worth reporting. But it was mandatory for all professional agents, and Inu-wan did it often enough. And if she wrote one, she would have to hand it into the processing unit at Tsukene’s building, and Tsukene – who scanned most every document that came through – would perchance see her name at the top right hand corner when perusing the files, and he’d - !

She didn’t have to, and she knew it, but nevertheless she typed one out and asked Biwa to edit it for her.

It was beyond wonderful, to have someone finally understand. Biwa, while perhaps aggressive, was a saint in her understanding. To think that one of her closest and most trusted friends would have accepted with open arms all along the very case files that had burdened her for so long! It was a weight off her shoulders, to know that a friend would have underwent a similar ordeal, and such a dear one at that. Because Inu-wan would not tell her the outcome of the case, Shiraho prayed for the health of Biwa’s grandmother.

“Your writing skills are getting sharper and sharper, Shira-chan! This is...certainly different from usual.” Biwa declared over the phone when she saw the first draft.

“Really?”

“Definitely! Only a few mistakes, and I fixed them. Hope you don’t mind, but I changed some of your wording, too,” she added, a little guiltily. “Shira-chan...I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t so obvious in the report. Do you like this Tsukene guy?”

“What? Oh – oh! Biwa-chan! I-I – yes, but – I mean...! Please, change more of the wording for me!” She sputtered, amidst laughter.

-

And soon, life began to settle back into routine.

Each day after school the bell rang. On days when Shiraho did not have to attend the writing club, she always stayed to receive extra help for math with her friends. She slung her book bag over her shoulders and bowed to her teachers. She checked to make sure her friends also got their homework before bidding farewell cheerfully.

She made her daily minute phone call to her father, who was not home but who would like to hear her voice on the answering machine when he got back anyway, just in case she fell asleep waiting for his return.

“I’m going to come home as fast as I can! I’m running the errand for Inu-wan.” It was no lie. Though it made her uncomfortable to call it an errand, as though it were harmless. It was not a lie. But a half-truth was even worse, wasn’t it? It made her question her own integrity.

She took the bus back home and changed into a clean outfit. She retook the bus with Inu-wan and transferred to the train, gliding to the edges of Hiroshima, passing the overhanging branches of the Shukkeien frothing red and silver gold. The wheels rumbled across the rails; all across were barren trees and dented concrete and arc bridges of welted stone and brick. The air on the outskirts was lovely and clear. She could feel the blueness of the sky with every step she took up the stairs to the temple. 

“Good afternoon,” Byakuren would call to her with her enchanting voice from beneath the torii gate. And she would answer in stilted English, “how are you?”

The wind always swept over the hilltop where the shrine was nestled, amidst the brambles and the towering willows, like frail court maidens of old with white necks and rivers of soft hair. The wind would always sweep Shiraho’s hair out of place no matter how hard she brushed it down in the hours preceding.

Byakuren was half Japanese, but she had radiant white-blonde hair, like sunlit clouds, like Rapunzel...Inu-wan had told her so. He said the woman wore a different kimono, every day. Her family must have been enormously wealthy. And so she imagined Byakuren standing at the top of the hill, waving down to her though she couldn’t see, clad in silk flowers and wreaths, a perched golden bird...her hair billowing out behind her like a splendid blooming flower. Truly, she thought, a real feudal princess...!

Shiraho was happy to do the work she did. She dusted the cobwebs from the corners of the shrine. She lit the incense and prayed every day. She’d swept and mopped and swept the corridors twice over until she was dizzy and her arms were tingling with biting sores. She took a cup of tea every day afterwards and bowed goodbye.

The work was hard but she gently insisted on doing it, taking the initiative. She typed diligently, if not a little embarrassedly, in her report every night, thinking about Tsukene’s lovely voice. Would his tone change, she wondered as she crawled into bed, if she grew to become a good agent?

-

About a week after they had first met, Byakuren gave her the very first payment for her services, despite her polite protest. A smooth gift-wrapped package thumped on the table in front of her. Shiraho opened the box and felt the sensation of silk and embroidery under her fingers, small beads and long weaves frosty to the touch.

“It feels lovely,” she murmured, running her hands along it, and feeling confused. She’d expected pocket change...it would have been nice – though she didn’t tell Inu-wan so – to earn 4,000 yen in the long run, so that she could finally break open her savings for the new Kid Cannon and Cherry Bomber Confederation CD pack. There was a bargain pack in the local bookstore, and she’d wanted to get it ever since it came out two years ago, but that was when her father had lost his job. She’d practically forgotten about it until recently.

“Hakkou-san, what is this...? It feels...expensive...” she added, a little worriedly.

Byakuren laughed gently, patting her shoulder affectionately. It was a strange foreign gesture, but she was getting used to it, and it reassured her somewhat.

“Place of shrine was once geisha house.” Of course...she should have known that! She’d been told, when she’d first came. The fragrance of a beautiful woman trails behind her for an eternity, so Tetsujin once said. Perhaps that’s why the hills smelled so lovely, like a storm of bright flowers. “Bad history. Cruel history. I had great-great-grandmother, was once owner. Many famous geisha trafficked here. One was caught, had affair with politician. House closed, many scandals. Geisha died but legacy remained for years. Then great grandmother opened shrine, with difficulty, with absolution.

“At least my mother say. Everything change now. But old kimono still remain, many, like butterflies scattered, in old wooden shelves in attic. Red and blue and lines with silver. Kimono is beautiful old antique, worth...160,000 yen now. Take it.”

Shiraho couldn’t believe it. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. For what seemed like an eternity, she bobbed her head like a limp fish. Even Inu-wan was a little startled.

“What? No! H-Hakkou-san! Oh, n-no, please, I can’t – 160,000 yen? It’s such a-a luxurious gift - ! And I can’t even see it – no, please - ”

Ultimately, to her great relief, Byakuren decided with a mock petulant voice that Shiraho’s father would probably never let her keep it anyway, and laughed it off sympathetically. Indeed, Shiraho felt like she’d swallowed a lemon, but this made her a little calmer. Indeed, she’d rarely ever heard Byakuren laugh so casually, and she decided to go along.

“It scare you, Shiraho-chan? Sorry! It okay. It still yours. I keep it here, you wear it when you see me during New Year’s festival, ne? Good girl, good girl. I am sorry.” The young woman giggled, rising to put the box away.

-

Shiraho was glad, even if she was never quite sure why she was liked, why she was employed, why Byakuren was always so courteous and lenient with her...it must have been fate, mustn’t it? The fate to become something greater. That’s what she’d told Inu-wan that day.

“Don’t be stupid; you did it yourself,” he grunted, pulling her covers up before he went back to his own office. “Good night, Shiro-oujosan.”

-

And it was true. Byakuren was her employer, but in no time at all, became as an older sister, showing her all around the house. But even without her aid, Shiraho’s providence and resilience was remarkable, and surprised even herself.

Soon she began to know the house just by testing the warmth of the floor with her feet, by finding nooks and crannies and staircases, to the point where she no longer needed Inu-wan’s directions. Everything was clear, not as if she could see it, but as if the shrine itself gained hands to help her along. In the east was the bonsai garden where she felt around for weeds and dandelions. In the west was the Torii gate where she dusted and hung clothes out to dry.

Two flights of stairs above there hung the giant lanterns on the balcony overlooking the dirt road beyond, and she lit them every night before she left, careful not to burn herself with the match. Byakuren took them down for her and helped hold them steady. Though she could never see the light, she could feel its warmth caressing her palms.

She was vaguely aware that the shrine was never opened for services, and was careful not to ask Byakuren why. But even so, the temple had to shine, like a star in a wandering visitor’s eye – everyone needed to see beautiful things, when wandering alone, for it is the only joy on earth. Tetsujin said that once, and she’d believed.

By and by, snow came.

-

It happened on a blissful Saturday morning, 7:00. Shiraho was asleep in bed, her body prone and still. Her eyes fluttered open once with the sound of Inu-wan shutting the door as he ventured in, sputtering and shivering. She was briefly aware of how cold this morning was. Ambling into her room, he rose on two feet – a rare sight nowadays, what with his pains – and flicked on the light.

“Come on, Shiro-oujosan,” he said, nudging her. His nose felt like ice! “Get up...turn to the weather channel.” Grudgingly, a bit confused, she rose up on her knees, straightening out her plaid pyjamas, and fumbled for her cane. She tottered into the living room and turned on the television.

“ – for those of you just tuning in, good morning. You’re tuned in to J-Coastal news. The temperature for Hiroshima: minus nine with the first snowfall of the season –”

“What?” She yelped, and fell on her bottom. The weatherman didn’t lie. She clicked another channel. “A daily high of –2!” “Inu-wan! How did this happen?” Not a sprinkle of snow anywhere the last few days and suddenly...something like this! She couldn’t believe it. Immediately, she jumped up again, put on a jacket and ran for the door.

“Shiro-oujosan!”

Flinging open the door, Shiraho was showered with snow. “Ah! Inu-wan! Inu-wan, it’s here, it’s here! How could it be this early this year? It’s only November – the beginning of November! Wow!” She spun in circles, dashing across the steps and into the front lawn, squealing as she hit a layer of chill that spread up to her ankles. The snow fell like a gentle shower of wool from the sky, and her feet were blanketed in it. There was no wind, no ice, only beautiful freezing feather dust between her fingers and dancing in her hair. “Wow!”

“Shiro-oujosan! Get inside!” The air was so crisp and wonderful that she could hardly hear Inu-wan calling her. “Are you absolutely insane?” The dog agent gave a frustrated grunt and ambled out after her, pulling her inside forcefully by the scruff of her pyjama pants. “One more lousy agent to stack up with the rest of the lousy no-good agents at work and I’ll – ”

“I’m sorry, Inu-wan – but, but! Can I put on a coat, and some boots, and – ”

“- Sniff and sneeze at Tsukene when you file your log tomorrow?”

“Ah! I-I - ”

“That’s what I thought. Get in, get in!”

-

“You mean, you’re not sure where he is either?” Tsukene asked, perplexed. This was ridiculous. How did this happen? Where in the world was that wretched man...especially now that he actually needed to speak to him? The minute he starts giving a damn about this guy, he suddenly isn’t able to come to the phone for some reason?

“He doesn’t call, he doesn’t write,” Risu sighed. “I haven’t heard from him in a couple of months, either. He can be such a forgetful idiot sometimes, but I don’t really mind. The snow is so heavy today! Did you see it?”

Tsukene blinked, shifting his gaze. Yes, it was still falling, carving ice blossoms and leaving showers of shimmering crystals on his windowsill, the pattern of a creeping vine. But it was no comfort, not the warmth about him, not some fragile minute loveliness. “It’s beautiful.”

He wondered at it. Why did he need to see Tetsujin, at a time like this, when he could just as easily be resting his head and admiring his progression as a human creature?

Risu must have sensed it, too, because the next phrase held a tint of mischief, reminiscent of her old antics, that snapped him out of his reverie. “Thank you for calling to see how I’m doing, Urazato-san. Don’t take this personally...but you never seemed like the kind of person who would enjoy Aniki’s company.”

“...No. No, I don’t think I am. Hell, no.” He smiled self-satisfactorily, his old gruffness coming back as well. Here was the reason, laid out plain and simple! Tell her.

“But I needed to tell him the good news. His plan, ridiculous and irresponsible as it was, was a success. My date from the Shukkeien called me back. He wants to see me again, and I will probably say yes. From what I know he’s a good man, with a head full of ambition, and he makes me laugh...I think I’d like to meet him more, this Kaitei Haku.”

The thought brought a blush to his face, reminiscent of his school days. Everything he’d said about Haku, lumbering and happy, had been the truth, but all the same...! Talking about someone else like this, so affectionately, as though he’d depended on this person’s happiness, was almost embarrassing. Still, it was a start, wasn’t it? Like Tetsujin said.

Like he’d said...a progression. A window of opportunity. For some reason, his chest became numb with an awkward weight at that, and cold...as though the chill from the outside had somehow seeped in against his will. He shook it off.

“In any case. If he contacts you, could you let him know? I’m just, well, a little concerned that he might be finding other suitors for me, the poor bastard. And since Haku-san is already - ”

“Call him by his name.”

“What?”

“You’ve even called Tetsujin by his name before. He told me.” Risu’s voice took on a tinge of bitterness, and unwittingly, Tsukene’s mind was jarred by the blinding image of her as Neo, holding a gun to his head with unexpected ferocity. “Tetsujin told me you’re afraid to die. He said so! Before you die, at least love someone properly. Call whoever his name is by his name!”

“Yes...of course,” he whispered, shocked. In his heart, he felt the worrying sense of fear mingling with a terrible wrath that seemed to bubble up from within him. If anything, the snow seemed to fall even more heavily.

What had Tetsujin dared to say...about him...?

-

The next day, as if by some manner of miracle, the snow continued to fall. Shiraho and Inu-wan decided to visit the shrine.

Amagi, tentatively and with suspicion evident on his face, sent them off. “Be careful; you haven’t had to walk while watching for ice for a while, so don’t be hasty! It’s slippery outside – the snow’s been trampled on, it’s dangerous! Step lightly! Wrap your scarf around your mouth more, Shiraho!”

“Mmph-kay!”

They’d taken the train, to their usual stop. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Shiraho nearly slipped. Inu-wan caught her and berated her fiercely. “You need to be more careful, Shiro-oujosan! At least try not to jump!”

“I’m sorry! I wanted to hurry, I guess, I...Byakuren comes from America. Do they get snow in America? She might be scared to death! We’ve got to visit her – she might think there’s some sort of disaster coming, like an earthquake or a cyclone or -”

“Don’t worry. Walk slowly. I don’t think there’s anyone so foolish. There’s snow everywhere in America.”

“Really? What about, what about South America?”

“...”

The snow had coated Shiraho’s messy hair with a sparkling wet veil by the time they’d arrived at the gate, ambling up the steps like little monkeys in the winter paradise.

But there was something...different. Ah! Suddenly she recognized it. The smell was different, she noted, and Inu-wan knew it too. It was no longer mild and wet. There was a fire in the shrine, and it stoked the fireplace that was never used before with a fragrance like steam buns and hot tea. The snow that buried everything just made it even more prominent. It whipped her in the face like a great douse of rain, and she knew.

“Good afternoon!” She heard out of the blue, and tilted her head in the direction of the cheerful call. It was Byakuren, perched upon the balcony. Had she been lighting the lanterns in her absence?

“How are you?”

“Today is a wonderful day for a visit. I’m glad you brightened up my doorstep.” The sound was of the owner retreating and ambling down the stairs to the door. “I open door for you!”

The snow seemed to bring out a delight in her.

-

Suddenly, Inu-wan heard a rustling sound behind him. Shiraho was already approaching the door. He blinked in the direction of the forest, behind the shrine. The trees were barren, bowing low, branches leaning their crushing weight on the towering shingled rooftop. There was something behind it.

“What the hell do you want?” He murmured, so softly that it couldn’t be heard.

His eyes narrowed. In an instant, so sharply that it nearly blinded him, there was a flash of light behind the house, sharply and utterly red, brighter than any flame.

The trees parted.

Within that instant, a great and monstrous painted face loomed out of the curtain of darkness behind the shrine, with the intensity of a god.

The beast jutted out of its fragile surroundings like a monolith. It was stunning against the dark of the deteriorating forest. It gazed at him steadily, with dark eyes that seemed to devour everything it saw, eyes that had no human quality to them. It considered Inu-wan with wonder, seeming to want to say something, opened its red mouth and then reconsidered, just as quickly...

It was gone.

-

Inu-wan slowly walked to the shrine, stumbling over his own feet, encumbered with the weight of the shock. His eyes were focused on the forest, his body stiff with fear, as a common animal would fear any larger adversity. Shiraho couldn’t see it. He would not tell her.

In fact, it was something that he would never be able to tell Shiraho, nor would he ever put it into coherent words, even after the case was closed and her precious employer was nearly killed. But the face of that apparition – whatever it was – was Byakuren’s own.

-

 

End notes:

Next chapter has slash connotations. Let me repeat. Slash. Connotations. Slash. SLAAASHY SLASH SLASH, baby!

It also tells more about Byakuren, reiterates Shiraho’s contagious helplessness, and hopefully Neko-Keigo comes back. And Tsukene and Shiraho certainly still have a lot to talk about, so I’ll see what I can do.

SLAAAAAAASHNESS.