Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Kyou. But I am very thankful that Akito is the treacherous property of someone who lives far, far away from me.
Sort of a sequel to 'Shishou' Means Father, prompted by a question/request by Aura Black Chan. I hope it meets your standards. Enjoy!
Dandelions are a far cry from sakura and snapdragons…
My Shishou Dresses Funny
The single trail of smoke dissipated on the sudden breeze that swirled through the yard, a cool, early spring caress smelling of recent rain. Kyou blinked, dry-eyed, as he read once more the inscription of the new headstone before which he was crouched respectfully.
Souma Kazuma. January 28, 1970 — March 9, 2004. –shishou–
Kyou reached out to press his fingers against the final engraved word. Shishou. Grief flooded him, and his throat clenched mercilessly as the soul-searing emotion pounded through his blood. He rocked back on his heels, ignoring the slight dampness that seeped from the backs of his shoes to the seat of his black slacks, and tipped his head back to stare at the sky. Clouds scuttled across a gray-blue backdrop, and Kyou closed his eyes to feel the wind that carried with it the scent of light water, and lifted away the fragrance of burning incense on the small altar before him, beside the glass of water and the fresh bouquet of flowers.
Chrysanthemums, Kyou silently identified their unique scent, opening his eyes to focus on their brightly-colored petals. Shishou never really cared for mums. But mums were standard offerings to the deceased, and Kyou had included the distinctive blossom with his karate instructor's favorite, more obscure, flowers—white snapdragons, purple garden petunias, purloined from Tooru's patch beside Yuki's 'secret garden', and one spray of early-blooming sakura.
It was time to go, Kyou knew. The gathering clouds overhead were an ominous lead-gray, threatening of a coming storm, and it was quite a walk from the cemetery back across town to Shigure's house.
But still he lingered, touching his fingers to the fragile pink petals of the pretty cherry blossoms. "You were the one who showed me the beauty of sakura in the spring, shishou," he whispered, voice hoarse as his gaze traveled to the smooth gray stone that protected the last physical remains of the only father Kyou had ever known—and loved. Unshed tears thickened his voice, and he coughed against the persistent urge to cry. "I hope…I hope now I can share them with you, too."
He tipped the umbrella, resting on his shoulder, over his head, but didn't move. The first heavy raindrops splattered against the umbrella top, and Kyou offered the grave a smile as watery as the leaky clouds overhead. "Guess you're stuck with me a little bit longer, shishou."
It's the least I can do. You stayed with me for so long, through so much…because of, and despite, it all.
"Shishou!"
The familiar, happy cry interrupted the day's practice, and Souma Kazuma wiped the gray sleeve of his karate uniform across his forehead as he turned, smiling, to see the small figure of his adopted son hurtling across the dojo floor towards him. Students, grinning and chuckling at the daily routine, moved aside as Kyou flung himself at his shishou.
His form, they noted, was superb; his timing, excellent; his passion, unrivaled. He threw the first three punches with an enviable precision, then pivoted on one leg to aim a high kick at Kazuma's head. The karate instructor blocked it easily, smiling gently as he ruffled his young student's hair affectionately. "Okaeri, Kyou," he said as the little boy beamed excitedly up at him. "Did you have a good day at school?"
Kyou pouted, scuffing one bare foot against the smooth hardwood floor. "I got in trouble again," he mumbled ashamedly. "I got in another fight, shishou."
Sighing loudly, Kazuma rocked back on his heels as he cast a cheery wink at his students over Kyou's lowered head. "Kyou, Kyou," he shook his head in mock despair. "What are we ever going to do with you?"
The students grinned in anticipation as Kyou slowly lifted his head, eyes wide and bruised as he awaited his punishment. But Kazuma merely caught him in a flying, full-body tackle, and wrestled the shocked, laughing boy to the floor. Pinning him down, Kazuma grinned down at his squirming student. "Fighting is reserved for the dojo, Kyou," he reminded him, "And only when you know your opponent is strong enough to fight back. What went wrong this time?"
Kyou averted his eyes, scrambling to his feet as his shishou let him up. "He said I had girly eyes," he muttered, embarrassed as he caught the telltale snicker from the back of the dojo. "So I punched him."
Kazuma sent a glare to the wayward student who had had the misfortune to laugh at Kyou. One did not mock the young Souma when his shishou was present. It was Kunimitsu, then, who crouched down to give Kyou an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Don't let what other people think bother you, Kyou," he said with a grin as the little boy lifted sullen ruby eyes to his face. "What you think of yourself is a hundred times more important, anyway."
A monster. A mistake. Kyou shook his head, sending his flame-colored bangs swishing over his face. He sighed and cast a sideways glance at his shishou, wondering when he would be punished for getting into another fight—the sixth one that year. "But I don't have girly eyes," he protested.
To Kyou's infuriation, Kunimitsu only laughed and cocked an eyebrow at him. His question made the young boy grin slowly. "Kyou, have you ever seen a 'manly eye'?"
The tension flowed from Kyou's body as he laughed, hearing the students—and his shishou—echo the warm sound. Shishou's hand patted him on the head as he said, "Go up and change, Kyou. We'll practice a bit together, and then you can help me make dinner." Kyou's eyes flashed in humor—it was usually the other way around—but hurried off to exchange his school uniform for his karate outfit, bowing his way out of the dojo as was proper.
"He's a great kid," Kunimitsu murmured to Kazuma as they resumed class. His eyes were warm with affection for the young boy as he stretched his shoulders before the next set of practices. "It'll be fun watching him grow."
The raindrops splattered loudly on the black umbrella, casting small splashes up from the cobblestones around where Kyou crouched, creating rivulets down the face of the gravestone. The incense, dampened, smoldered quietly into submission in the face of the onslaught of rain, and Kyou watched the tears from the sky drip into the glass of water, sending ripples out to meet the cylindrical glass walls.
Rain to wash away the pain, he thought idly, tilting the umbrella to better shield himself from the falling drops. Rain to cleanse old wounds. The chill that accompanied the early spring downpour seeped through his black jacket, past the white cotton shirt Tooru had ironed for him the previous evening, to settle with a companionable snuggle against his skin to slowly ease its way past chilled muscles and layer against his bones. He'd be ill the next morning, Kyou was certain; his body would ache with the familiar rain-induced sickness; his head would be stuffy with the sniffles.
But that didn't deter him from staying.
He didn't hear the soft footsteps behind him as he bent his head and surrendered once more to the memories that beat against his mind.
"Shishou…what's that?"
Kyou pointed, his small finger following the movement of the strange whiteness that floated from a dull gray sky. Kazuma smiled at the little boy's wonder, hiding his mild surprise that the child didn't know what 'snow' was. Hadn't he seen any? Snow didn't not fall within the Souma main house grounds.
"Snow," Kazuma said, turning Kyou's hand so it was palm-up to the sky and holding it steady to catch the drifting flakes that thickened the air. His breath formed clouds before his face, and he shivered, mentally reminding himself that they'd have to go in a few minutes. The snow would still be falling after dinner, and he hadn't dressed either of them in appropriate snow attire. "It's frozen water. See how it melts when it touches your skin?"
Kyou gasped as he watched the small white dots disappear into small puddles on his hand. Wonder danced through his wide eyes as he turned his face to Kazuma. "Shishou…" he breathed in awe, pleasure bringing a bright smile to his face. "It's like magic!" He ran a few steps away to lift his hands to the sky; then, shivering, hurried back to Kazuma's side in disappointment as the chill reminded him that he was only dressed in pants and a long-sleeved shirt. "I want to play in the…snow," he said, his tongue stumbling over the new word.
Kazuma smiled sympathetically. "Too cold, Kyou?" The little boy nodded fervently, and he said, "We'll go inside and have dinner, first. Afterwards we can come back out and play in the snow. Don't worry," he reassured him, "it'll still be here. In fact, the rate this is going, there will be a lot more snow for a while, yet." He glanced at the sky as he ushered a reluctant Kyou into the soothing warmth of the house. The dark clouds seemed to agree with his observation that they were due for a few days' heavy snowing. Kyou would have plenty of opportunities to play.
He danced impatiently as he waited for his shishou to don his long haori. Kyou frowned as Kazuma took his time taking down Kyou's red-and-white jacket and green scarf from the hooks in the closet. "Shishou!" he complained, casting a pointed glance at the closed front door. "Hurry!"
Laughing, Kazuma knelt to help Kyou stuff his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, his movements clumsy in his haste. "It will still be there, I promise!" he chuckled, gently pushing Kyou's hands away as the little boy fumbled for the zipper. He wrapped the scarf around Kyou's neck, tucking it close around his neck, and said, "You know, a kimono's just as warm as your clothes, Kyou. I don't see why you don't like wearing one."
Kyou eyed Kazuma's clothes balefully. He'd tried to wear the same as his shishou, he'd even managed to put up with it for a whole hour. But…He made a face as he shoved his feet into his shoes, tangling up the laces for one frustrated minute before he could force his excited fingers to work. "I tried, shishou," he said petulantly, "But it's so uncomfortable! It's like a dress, and there's too much space by my legs, and it's too tight around my tummy, and the sleeves always get in my way, and I keep tripping in it! Besides," he muttered with a flash of rebellion, "it looks funny."
Startled by Kyou's observation, Kazuma blinked. "Funny?" he repeated, hand on the door handle. Kyou looked up, blushed faintly, and nodded in guilty embarrassment. "Do I look funny, too, Kyou?"
Kyou threw his arms suddenly around Kazuma's legs in a rare burst of affection. One day, he vowed, one day I'll be tall enough to hug shishou. Not just his legs. And he knew, odd as it sounded, that he'd still want to hug his shishou when he was tall enough to do so. "Shishou never looks funny!" Kyou announced forcefully. "I love shishou!"
Just as quickly as he'd started, he released Kazuma and stared hard at the door as if he could will it to open. "Hurry, shishou!" he said, thoughts of snow overriding his mortification at the vulnerability his heart felt at the unexpected confession. "Hurry, before the snow all goes away!"
Kazuma's heart stumbled with love for this little boy, but he managed to open the door without undue fumbling and followed Kyou out into the white outdoors. The little boy giggled in delight as he threw himself into the nearest drift, a muffled cry attesting to the fact that the hills of snow weren't quite deep enough for such wanton behavior. But Kyou's head popped up quickly enough, and he patted both hands on top of the snowy slopes in ecstasy.
"Snow, shishou!" he chortled merrily, eyes bright with excitement and he lifted handfuls of the fluffy white stuff into the sky in triumph. "I have snow, shishou, look! Sno-o-o-w!"
"Indeed you do," Kazuma murmured. "Indeed you do."
Kyou scrubbed a hand over his face. Kami-sama, he'd been such a little kid back then…His mouth quirked into a grin as he remembered how numb his fingers had been afterwards; shishou had managed to make them both cocoa (without burning the pot) and they'd sat by the window, watching the snow continue to fall, blanketing the snowman they'd made in a quiet shower of white. Of course, their 'man' had looked more like a 'mound', but it had been an accomplishment for them both.
It had looked even less like a man after Kyou had tried to sit on it.
He sighed, ignoring the tightening of his throat as the snowy memory. It had been beautiful that day…Shishou had showed him many things for the first time, and those discoveries shone in his mind. They'd taken the train to Yokohama once, shishou trying to explain to him what 'bullet train' was.
"Shi…Shin-ka-sen?" Kyou had stumbled over the strange-sounding word.
"Shinkansen," shishou nodded in affirmation. "Fastest train in the world, Kyou."
"Shin…kan-sen," Kyou repeated, frowning. "Shinkansen."
Shishou had taught him everything, from the overpowering beauty of the sea to the delicate beauty of the dandelion. Kyou stood slowly, wincing as stiff joints protested the movement. Tanpopo…he grinned, remembering the first time shishou had showed him the yellow weed.
"Shishou…Why are you pulling up flowers?"
Shishou had nearly laughed, but happily shared his knowledge with his adopted son. "It's a weed, Kyou. A bad plant we don't want in our garden. It will use up all the nutrients in the soil that the plants we want to grow need, and it will kill our flowers and vegetables."
"But shishou, you kill all the vegetables, anyway, when you try to cook them." Kyou's face was puzzled, innocent.
Shishou's chuckles were warm and full-throated as he acknowledged the truth in that statement. "True, very true, Kyou. But weeds, like this dandelion, can grow many places that most plants can't. It's a very hardy type of plant."
Kyou was confused. "We only want weak plants in our garden, shishou?"
"No, we only want the useful kinds, or the pretty kinds. Dandelions are neither."
Kyou had touched a finger to the sticky white sap that welled from the broken stem of one of the offending flowers. He frowned in concentration. "I think I like tanpopo, though, shishou. They are a little like me…" He swallowed hard against the rising sadness, and tears touched his voice. "I'm neither useful nor pretty. I'm not even wanted."
"Oh, Kyou," shishou had sighed, and swept him into a fierce hug. "That's not true. You're wanted here."
"Oh, shishou," Kyou sighed as he rubbed his fingers over his eyes, the umbrella tilting dangerously before he righted it over his head once more. "I miss you."
"We all do," came the soft confirmation from behind him. Kyou whirled, startled, to find Kagura standing at the head of a small group of what Kyou realized he could call his 'friends'—Tooru, Haru, Yuki, and Momiji. Kagura's smile was faint as her eyes trailed over the rain-soaked rock. "We were worried you'd forgotten to come home, Kyou-kun. We were all going to have dinner together, or did you forget?"
Did they truly expect him to have remembered? Kyou heaved a sigh as he bowed his head one final time to the grave and turned, slowly, to face his friends. "Lead on, then," he murmured, casting a glance over his shoulder. Momiji bounded up to tuck himself against Kyou's side, his affection for his cousin having deepened since the loss of Kyou's adopted father. And Kyou had discovered that, despite his protests that he didn't care for his energetic cousin, he was growing to enjoy Momiji's company.
It was weird.
But this, he thought with a warmth that flooded his heart, was family.
"I'm not alone, shishou," he murmured as they passed out of the temple. "And now, neither are you."
8.19.04
NOTES: I wrote the initial portion even before I'd written 'Shishou' Means Father, and I added the rest more recently. The memory of snow smacked me in the face as I was looking through all my sister's Furuba books (I sadly don't own any, merely stealing them from my sister when I need them) in preparation for attempting to write the sequel to Yami no Namida. There's a picture between chapters of shishou putting a scarf on mini-Kyou…and I thought, Awww, how cute!! And thus, the idea was born. I have no idea whether or not Kyou knew what snow was before…but shishou did introduce Kyou to trains (densha), and there is a flashback sequence with shishou, Kyou, and a dandelion (tanpopo). That's such a great word…tanpopo!
The joke about snow…In Japanese, snow is "yuki" (not the same as Yuki-the-mouse-Yuki). Kyou strings out the word "sn-o-o-w" in English, but in Japanese, it would come out as "yuu-u-uki". In Japanese, "yuuki" means courage. =) Sort of a joke that I happened across while writing.
I really have no idea how old shishou is. Artistic license!
The tone is totally different from 'Shishou' Means Father, and I can't stand the dumb ending. It sounds rushed and ugly, so I'm sure I'll come back and edit this sometime. In the meantime, please send me any suggestions/questions/comments you have! Your feedback is greatly appreciated! Doomo!