Author’s Note: Written with reference to the end of episode 16 and all of episode 17, episode 17 being the Botan one. Just random almost-scenes in chronological order. Apologies for any errors in detail - wrote this without direct reference to said episodes. I did check screencaps and the scripts, though, so I think I'm safe. The song is Beautiful Day by U2, and IMO one of their best. ~_^ I regret to have cut out one verse, though. Dated December 2002.
Beautiful Day
I.
"...please be alive."
//the heart is a bloom
//shoots up from the stony ground
//but there's no room
//no space to rent in this town
The creak of the back door, and three sets of tired footsteps. The slight patter of the dying rain fades as the door closes shut, leaving a short silence, uneasy as an unwanted reunion.
"Feels strange to be back, ne? And...without Aya-kun..."
"Yeah. I...do you think he...?"
A short sound of annoyance. "Who knows? I'm going up."
"Hey! Youji-kun - "
"...me too. Goodnight, Omi."
"Ken-kun..."
A long silence, then a soft click. The store lights go out.
The only sound is of footsteps on stairs, and eventually the low clicks of closing doors.
//you're out of luck
//and the reason that you had to care
//the traffic is stuck
//and you're not moving anywhere
The salty tang of the sea is nothing familiar, for he has never been one to like the seaside, but it reminds him of tears and blood and metal. Except the first is too sacred to be linked with the other two, and belongs solely to his past, locked away behind an earring and the coldness of his eyes.
The sky is strangely blue, for such an early time, and the still-young sun is already warm on his shoulders, but he pays no notice. For the headstone is grey and cold, grey and cold and the only thing that matters now, symbol though it is - and the headstone is more real than the quiet calm of the morning.
He brings only his silence and his promises to this grave. Flowers, too, but they don't count, because flowers are meaningless.
Flowers always die.
He has known this for a long time.
//you thought you'd found a friend
//to take you out of this place
//someone you could lend a hand to
//in return for grace
The other man has the decency to fall silent when the hospital comes into view. All hospitals look the same after a while, he thinks vaguely. Or perhaps he has simply seen too many. But the scenery - green grass, gold sand, blue sea - is bright in a way he, having lived for so long now in the cold greyness of cities, cannot reconcile with the pale walls and fluorescence of corridors.
Once in the parking lot, he leaves the car and walks for the doors. The hospital air - cold and sterile and with the slight lilt of sickness - breathes back into him memories of endless afternoons, hours spent with only the sound of his own voice and the memory of brighter days and the silence on her face.
Breathes back into him, too, the cold absolute of his mission.
//it's a beautiful day
//the sky falls and you feel like
//it's a beautiful day
//don't let it get away
They drive in the rain silently. At least, he drives, and the other man folds paper airplanes. He does not bother watching, looking only at the map and at the rain-blurred road.
Rainy nights and cars. He makes sure the headlights are on, and tries not to think of the past.
II.
//you're on the road
//but you've got no destination
//you're in the mud
//in the maze of your imagination
The car is heavy with the scent of smoke.
It will take a while to get rid of it, he knows, almost as long as it will for his leg to heal from the bullet's graze. And even when the light accent of leather is restored, the ashy tang will remain, sad and low and quiet, though he will be the only one who knows it is there.
He does not need to glance at the passenger seat to know what lies there, a moment quiet and frozen in time, forever smiling. So when he picks it up in a careful hand and puts it into the glove compartment, he does not look at it at all.
//you love this town
//even if it doesn't ring true
//you've been all over
//and it's been all over you
Again, the familiar creak of the door.
"Gone again. Ch', that guy..."
"He'll be back tomorrow, Youji-kun. You know he will."
"Hn."
"He'd better see to that gunshot wound...think he'll be fine?
"Aya-kun always is."
A lapse into silence. One pair of footsteps starts heading for the stairs.
"He...he really cares, right? It's just that he doesn't show it, that's all, but I'm sure he..."
The footsteps pause, accompanied with a slight sigh.
"With him, who can be sure?"
"That-that's harsh, Youji-kun..."
"I'm sure he cares, Omi."
A brief silence. "Yeah. I - sorry, Omi." The hint of a bitter smile - "We all do, ne?"
Half-surprised, half-glad - "Youji-kun..."
The footsteps fade up the stairs. The other two hesitate, but follow.
Outside, the sky is full of stars.
//it's a beautiful day
//don't let it get away
//it's a beautiful day
//don't let it get away
//touch me, take me to that other place
//teach me, i know i'm not a hopeless case
He does not quite know why he had split away from the others after the mission, going as far as to shrug off Youji's support and limp to his car alone. When he finds himself driving down a familiar road, though, he begins to understand what must be done.
Even in the night the sea shimmers faintly, mirroring the sky. He cannot see the gravestones from the road, and for that he is somehow glad.
He switches the ignition off, listens to the low hum of the car quieten into stillness, and leans back into the seat. Catches his reflection in the rear-view mirror. He looks as tired as he feels. It has been a long day.
Rain and flames and paper planes.
He closes his eyes.
//it was a beautiful day
//beautiful day
//don't let it get away
//touch me, take me to that other place
//reach me, i know i'm not a hopeless case
"...I believe in you."
The paper airplane flies away into the too-blue vastness of the sky, and he closes his eyes. Perhaps he doesn't want to see the inevitable descent, the eventual gentle fall into the sea's embrace. To his mind comes the image of a sodden white speck on the water's surface, and somewhere inside stirs a feeling not unlike grief.
It wasn't even a very good airplane, he thinks absently, opening his eyes and gazing out to sea. It had been slightly crooked, the wings faintly asymmetrical. He'd never been very good at that sort of thing.
The sky is blue as the echo of her laughter, and the early morning sun glitters off the sea. He cannot see the airplane, whether it still glides on a chance breeze or has found its way down, and he is grateful in a distant way.
The air is sweet and the grass is green and the sun is warm on his skin as he steps out from the tree's shadow and heads away.
//what you don't have you don't need it now
//what you don't know you can feel it somehow
//what you don't have you don't need it now
//you don't need it now
//you don't need it now
He reaches the shop in time for lunch. When he steps through the back door he is startled to find the other three seated at the shop's table, half-eaten takeaways lying before them, but nowhere as startled as they are to see him.
Three stares meet his - surprised, curious, glad - but it is only Omi who speaks.
"Okaeri. Aya-kun."
The boy's smile widens as he gestures to one empty chair. There is a still-untouched packet lying on the table, and as Aya goes towards it he can see the small relieved grins that the other two exchange.
He begins eating, and the others continue their meal. Later, they all know, there will be questions and half-scoldings and attempts at humour, but now the only sound is the light clatter of chopsticks.
And as he breathes in the silence and the scent of chlorophyll, he almost feels at peace.
//...beautiful day.