Let's Fly as the Birds Do...
chapter 20
by Hikari
“Let’s Fly as the Bird Do…” Chapter Twenty
8/20/01
By: Hikari
E-mail to: elvina99@hotmail.com
Notes: I’m beginning to hate my work… Don’t mind me, it happens. e_e
Music Theme to chapter: “Adolescent Rush” by Shoujo Kakumei Utena the Movie.
~*~*~*~
Do you have any idea how many stairs
lead to the gateway of heaven?
~*~*~*~
“Shit!” He came jogging down the
hall and into the lounge where his group stood together before the entryway of
the elevator. The student was huffing jaggedly, and continued to do so the
moment he re-filed in line with his friend. The numbers on the elevator slowly
descended, and he made use of this time to exchange what he had just witnessed.
Tired, he reached up a hand to tug on his friend’s shirt. His friend looked at
him oddly, bushy eyebrows knitting together- wondering what on earth was askew.
“What?”
The boy was still hunched over, his hands clasping onto the round of his
kneecaps. Gasping, he said: “He’s here!”
“Who?”
“Shuiichi!”
Now it all became clear. “What?!”
“Yeah,” the other continued. “I saw him at the reception stand…”
“Damn it!” A loss on the team’s behalf. In secret they had come to the
consensus to somehow get the fag out of their league. To do this
inconspicuously, they intended a mishap that could only be blamed as
Shuiichi’s unreliability. One way or another, the redhead found out and was
hot on their tracks to make sure he wasn’t disposed of so effortlessly. He
crossed his arms at this insight. The freak was not easy to contend with.
“What are we going to do?”
Finally setting himself to stand
upright, the student glided his eyes around for anything that could buy them the
chance of still succeeding. Doing a full surveillance, brown irises landed upon
the sign directing which school was to go to what floor for the regional
registrations.
“Hm…” The ingenuity he had gave him pleasure. “I’ve got an idea”
Feeling about his clothes, his hands discovered the felt-pen he was in search
for. When he popped off the cap, he drew a line on his palm to check the ink.
Black. Excellent. As he walked toward the posted sign, he smiled. U.H.T- floor
number 3. Quickly, and with acute skill, the 3 transformed into an 8. All those
years of forging signatures and cheating on math tests paid off at last…
“All we gotta do now is screw up the other numbers too… Never mind the other
schools- they already know where to go… Besides, it would look kinda weird
with one number out of order…”
The other took to his side in
approval, but then regarded the floor difference between the bogus number and
the real one.
“Don’t you think eight floors is only enough time to stall him?”
“My friend, I do believe you’re
right.” He added a one to the eights left.
“Eighteen… You’re one hell of a
bastard.”
“Thanks. That’ll keep him out of
our hair for good.”
*****
Misfortune had become his shadow.
Kurama arrived in Kyoto later than he had anticipated for there was a delay on
the train he was boarded on. The result of which landed him in the city at
around three or four at night, leaving him with only a good three and a half
hours of sleep. Naturally, then, he awoke late from the exhaustion of stress and
running around Kyoto trying to narrow down which of the hotels the inter-school
meet was taking place in. More badly, the commencement of the ritualistic
registrations had begun more than two hours past. Finding himself at the
reception stand of the hotel, the woman there pointed in the direction of the
lobby and to follow the directions posted on the wall by the elevator. Thus
Kurama wound up on the eighteenth floor, confused by the fact that there was no
hustle of students from his school or any other. He checked the ballroom where
the registry officials were to be, but the ballroom lacked the rectangular
folding tables supposedly lined up side by side- their surfaces covered with
papers, forms, and tank uniforms. By fluke, however, there was a hotel maid
mopping the wooden dance floor in the low light.
“Excuse me, Ma’m?”
She discontinued in her dip, wash,
and stroke routine- leaning against the pole of her piece of equipment while
answering him. “Yes?”
“This is the eighteenth floor,
right? Well, where’s the registration for U. H. T?”
“Registration?” She was a pretty
maid, very young and sweet looking. Her face seemed to pour with emotion even at
the most insignificant thing. “Oh, are you looking for the regional running
teams?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Well, I don’t know the
details,” the maid admitted- French bun made of intricate braids following the
motions of her head. “But the leagues are only occupying floors one through
thirteen…”
“What?”
“Mm-hmm… I don’t know which
school is designated where, but U.H.T must be on one of those floors…
‘Someone from school must have seen
me…’ Kurama acknowledged- his eyes broadening and brow twisting at the
scheme. ‘Eighteen- they changed the numbers!’
“I’m sorry, I wish I could be of
more help to you…”
“No-no,” He pardoned, raising his
hands to shake them. “ It’s alright. I’ll find them…”
“I hope so… registration ends
soon. If it will aid you, there are two ballrooms to every level of the hotel…
Each ballroom should be occupied by one school team…”
“I see…” That alone was more
than enough information… So there were twenty-six high schools in the whole
hotel… The trick now, was to figure out a fast way to find WHERE he belonged.
“…Thank your for telling me…”
‘No!’ He screamed mentally, having been hit with panic. ‘Now I have to
work out which floor my school is on… Argh! Eighteen… That could have been
made from almost ANY number… 1, 10, 7, 2, 3, 13, 12, 9, 6… I have no choice
but to check every floor starting from thirteen!’ Back-stepping, he turned on
his feet and ran for the elevator again. Upon reaching it, the redhead grimaced
as there were too many people using it. And the elevator was an unbelievably
slow transport. With so many people on it, the odds of getting to the floors he
wanted were against him. ‘This isn’t a good… I don’ t have the time to
wait around for other people! Unless…’ Glancing from one end of the hall to
the other, he located the door to the staircase, which was plainly avoided for
use. In the zone of pressure, the redhead ran for it- pushing the door open with
his velocity and sprinting to the rail to view the number of flights. This being
a hotel, it didn’t alarm him to any degree that to every level there were two
flights. From his perspective, the stairs kept winding around and around in a
repetitive square design. Releasing one deep breath, Kurama advanced
immediately- keeping one hand on the rail to ensure he won’t snap his neck
should the prospect he would accidentally slip and fall through his speed take
place.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP. The bottom of his loafers
clicked and echoed within the modest precincts. One flight. Stop. Turn. Down the
next flight. For the first few
levels, he felt completely fine. After fifteen minutes of zigzagging, however,
Kurama felt his equilibrium tilt to one side and then shift to the other in
capricious intervals. It was like seasickness. The redhead couldn’t let nausea
get the best of him though- he knew that. His perception had to keep count of
how many flights he passed in order to prevent missing the thirteenth floor. At
this point, Kurama managed to storm down twelve flights… or was it fourteen?
Wait; wasn’t the thirteenth floor supposed to be after ten flights of stairs?
He stopped, and swung around- leaning against the rail and squinting up.
Glowering, the redhead shrugged to himself and began climbing instead. ‘These
people… If only I could throttle one of them!’
After going up two flights, he went
through the door at that level and was relieved to learn that he only went over
one level instead of two. On the subject of steps, Kurama didn’t have to make
the attempt to count. His feet counted FOR him. Each flight included seventeen
steps. The total steps he would have to descend: six hundred and twelve- not
including the number of steps he would be repeating. Stair master, my ass. If
you want to lose weight- go to a five star hotel.
Heading for the ballrooms, the post
on the doors of the first room read: U. H. S. The second one read: Tobayashi H.S.
Disappointed, he turned back for the
stairs. ‘I ran up for NOTHING!’
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP. Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap. TAP. If only the steps were at least made of carpet- it was a mistake
to wear pointed loafers. He knew he overlooked something when he was packing-
what a foolish thing to forget! Rubber shoes!
Kurama would have to pay the price for it now; nevertheless he had more major
problems in mind, like finding the listings.
Two flights were cleared, and he thus bursted through the next door and checked
the rooms yet again. No. Not on this floor. Kurama had no other alternative than
to go back to the stairs and continue progressing down them. Two flights down-
floor twelve. Two flights down- floor eleven. Never stop- keep going.
The stairs- the steps- they were
endless! Regrettably, the redhead forgot to hold onto the rail by the time he
reached the fourth floor. Somewhere in mid-step, the heel of his shoe slipped
against the tile, making him reel rearward and slide down the flight with his
back. The edges of each step bruised him all along- the sensation of this being
one of having tracks embedded into your flesh. Ceasing at length, his body was
lying on the level step where the next flight of stairs began and altered in
direction.
“…That… Saved me some
energy…” Wincing as he stood, Kurama paid no heed to the sores and
scratches. Actually, the redhead was thankful he didn’t break anything
valuable. ‘Where am I?’ He questioned in thought, praying he didn’t have a
mild case of amnesia- it would be a disaster to start from the top again.
Without anything else to do, he finished the next flight to make it to the next
floor. That was, floor three.
In a flash, his eyes caught the post
his schools name. Excited, since the exertion was over, he ran to the room only
to be dismayed by packing employees and janitors sweeping up whatever liter was
on the dance floor of the ballroom. The tables and chairs were already being put
away, and the brown cardboard boxes with regional uniforms were nowhere in
sight. A new terror washing over him, Kurama searched desperately for an
official. Walking past him was a plump-in-the-belly old man, dressed in a
pinstripe suit, and face confined within tight thick-frame glasses. Kurama hated
jumping to conclusions, but now more than ever was the time to just get ANYONE
to help.
“Matte! I’m sorry I’m very late, but I’m affiliated with U.H.T…”
Coldly, he stopped and turned to him
squarely. His movements were apparently influenced by military discipline. “I
would have to apologize young man… Listings are over… Everything is already
being packed up into the van.”
“No, please wait…” Kurama
huffed in dreadful need of air. His scarlet locks were in disarray- some
clinging to the skin of his forehead due to perspiration- others latching onto
the minute knits of his shirt. Evergreen irises screamed for pity, his face
struggling to not crack all together. “I’ve been running around this entire
building for the sake of staying on my track team!”
“Well, you should have been more
responsible and arrived punctually like everyone else…” The man began to
leave for a second time.
“But I wasn’t informed!” The
redhead shouted in utmost ardor. “I found out only on Saturday! Please don’t
destroy my chance when my own team neglected my presence! I’m a strong
athlete! If I were pathetic I would have given up sprinting down the
staircase!”
He was about to walk out the door,
when he heard that last sentence. “You RAN here through all those flights?”
He nodded- still out of breath.
Suddenly, his face melted by two
degrees. Consideration waltz throughout his head. “Mizuki! Take out the
folders and get tank sixteen, we have one more…”
*****
Originally, the plan was to stay an
extra night at the hotel he lodged in, but after everything that had occurred,
the very word ‘home’ sounded only too gratifying. The return was something
he could not recall clearly. All Kurama knew was that he was on the train, off
the train, on the bus, and finally off the bus. The ‘off the bus’ part was
the worst as it forced him to get down on his stop and walk the rest of the way
to his house. The footfalls that followed one another felt as though he were one
of those Indian entertainers who could walk on coal or dance over upright nails
and blades. The redhead was nearly compelled to collapse over the front
doorstep, but he saved his last bit of energy to forge his key into the lock.
Stupid rust- damn stupid rust. Didn’t it know that he was in no emotional of
physical condition to put up with it? His hands pushed harder on the key-
fingers feverish from the effort.
“Come on!” Kurama pushed harder,
banging a little on the hopeless knob. Fortunately for him, someone on the
opposite
side granted him the favor of turning the lock. Tumbling inside from the abrupt
release, he let out a calmed sigh and blinked at seeing his savior.
“Hiei, why are you awake so late?”
The demon put a finger to his lips to
tone down his friend. “You’re mother should be asleep by now…” He
whispered. “Don’t make her stir…”
“Oh…” Kurama whispered back.
“I couldn’t sleep…” Hiei
stated to answer the other’s previous question. The eyes in their wide sockets
flew directly to his friend’s shoes- as if in response to a sixth sense.
“Hn… they’re ruined…”
“I know… I hope my feet are in
better shape…” It appeared to be a pain to lift one foot and afterward the
other in order to remove the loafers. They were both met with disbelief at the
doorway, for they found that blood had completely saturated into his once
untainted white socks. “…It’s from all those stairs… I will go mad if I
have to climb up to my bed- I’ll take the couch in the living room… I
don’t care…”
Hiei remained silent and accepted
this as he would most other wounds. “Here, follow me to the kitchen…”
“What?”
“For once, do what I say…”
That was true. Most of the time, it
was the taller that gave directions and advisement for scenarios like this.
Realizing the minor detail, the redhead nodded quietly and entered the kitchen.
He was about to hit the light switch, when it came to him that that would give
away their secret encounter. Of course, they didn’t plan it- it was merely a
circumstance of coincidence.
“Sit on the counter.” He ordered.
Kurama complied again, although rather bewildered.
In the mean time, his friend bent
down for the cupboard bellow the sink- removing a small tub and sponge that was
still wrapped in its plastic seal. Turning on the faucet, Hiei filled the tub
with warm water slowly and discreetly so as to not make much noise. Next, he
walked to the other side of the kitchen to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
Then, to the fridge, he took out a half slice of lemon from one of the fruit
drawers. As he settled onto the floor beneath Kurama, he poured a cup full of
the alcohol into the steaming water and later squeezed a bit of the lemon to rid
the smell. Kneeling, he opened the sponge from its bag and soaked it. His hands
then raised the sponge from the tub, squeezing it hard to do away with of the
excess water. All the while, the redhead watched inquisitively, and took into
particular account as to how the little demon was treating his sore feet. With
the sponge, he cleaned out the many cuts and burns- wiping away the dried up
blood that had crusted his skin.
“About Friday…” He started, still concentrating on the nursing at present.
“I didn’t mean to make you angry…”
“…Daijoubu…” Kurama replied
easily- closing his eyes from having his nerve-endings alleviated of their
trauma. Oh, how wonderful it felt to have his feet dipped and massaged with the
sponge… and by Hiei too. “I wasn’t very reasonable on my part either…”
the redhead confessed- guilt pinching the skin of his heart. “So Let us simply
forget it ever happened…”
He dunked the sponge once more and
rang it. “Hn. Agreed.”
With a weak smile, the taller’s
eyes shifted into a shape congruous to an upside-down orange wedge. The green of
his irises softened as they were glazed over with warmth- pupils suddenly
discerning into the other’s night apparel. “This is off topic, but…”
“But?” The saturated sponge was
thrown into the tub altogether, the only thing touching Kurama’s feet now
being Hiei’s own hands.
“But your pajamas remind me of
lemon pastries…” Lemon pastries. Great, great… Sure, the pants and long
sleeved shirt were pastel yellow and rimmed with white folds, but a pastry? They
say you are what you eat, but can it ever go to the extent that you WEAR what
you eat? No, wait… that doesn’t sound appropriate. Could it be possible to
wear your flavor? Hm… the question still seemed absurd to Kurama. He grinned-
silly thoughtless thoughts. “Did mother take you shopping?”
“Yes, well, she plans to make a
rainbow out of me. “ The demon stood to empty the water drum into the basin.
“Che’ I prohibit the thought…”
“It was kind of her…” He
compromised. “Didn’t you like anything?”
“… I did… However, I had her
return it- I decided the garment wasn’t for me…”
“And THIS is?”
Hiei returned the drum into its
proper place. He had learned where everything in the house was in less than a
day, and that was WITHOUT using his Jagan. Looking up and down himself, the
smaller shrugged. “I admit, you caught me there…”
Out of nowhere, he shivered for a
second. Kurama crooked his head. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m fine- it’s just cold
in my room…”
“…Oh…”
Leaning on the counter Kurama was on,
Hiei had one forearm laid on either side of his friend. He looked up steadily-
his lips quivering to open. The redhead gazed down on him, his own sensations
reacting to the electrical current that was phasing through his state of mind.
He leaned forward, and consented the other’s lips.
They touched. Together, at once, they
touched It started slow- minor fondling. In a minute, their mouths began to
move- penetrating and desiring to taste. Their eyes closed, and Kurama could
feel the other’s hand creep up his back, through his hair, and cup the rear of
his head. Everything was happening fast, their breathing hastening along with
what seemed to be time. One kiss. Two. Three. Consecutively they became more
passionate- hotter. At the pinnacle, the redhead broke off fast before Hiei
could go any deeper, and let his head cast itself down and away in disgrace.
“…I can’t… I can’t do it,
Hiei… I don’t WANT to… Kaasan…”
Nodding grimly, he understood.
“…You’re right…”
Lifting his vision to see the demon,
Hiei broke into shaking again.
“You really must be cold down
here… I’m sorry; my mother likes to use the air conditioning…”
“Kurama…”
“Mm…?”
“What made you go through all
this?” He pointed to the feet. Kurama chuckled with a hint of sadness.
“… I got lost at the hotel… I
was racing against the clock; therefore I chose to use the staircase instead of
the elevator… I managed to get enlisted for the regional teams, so it’s
nothing to worry about anymore…”
“Hn… You won’t be a terrific
player if your feet are in this deficiently a shape…”
The redhead jumped from the counter,
his countenance flinching from ache on touch. “I make do…”
He headed for the stairs. Hiei
blinked.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you an extra blanket…”
The demon crossed his arms. “You
shouldn’t. You will have to confront more steps…”
Kurama’s hand was already covering
the ball of the banister. Moving his smile to Hiei, he sighed visibly as his
shoulders shrugged up and down. “…I don’t mind…”
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