Remembrances of Things Past by blinkie
Author's note. First of all, I'd like to thank all who reviewed. You're all so supportive!! :- I'm glad you like the fic. This is CHAPTER 4 of the ongoing fic about the events of Nataku's life. I had a difficult time writing this because I know very little about Nataku's personality. If it's OOC, just tell me ok? :- I'm really not sure how he ended up in a coma and all, but this is my version of it. If any one of you knows what really happened, I'd be glad to hear. In the meantime, enjoy. :-
Chapter 4: Redemption
It's been a month since he imprisoned Goku in Five Finger Mountain.
How does he know this? one asks, observing the windowless room completely devoid of objects that tell the time.
It's really very simple. He knows this because he had his own way of counting time. Two plates equals one day. Since he'd already seen sixty plates come and go, that meant he'd been inside for thirty days already. Sixty divided by two equals thirty. It's that simple.
He was pleased with his ingenuity, yet he had begun to wonder whether he was going just a bit crazy. Counting plates....well, that was something a normal person wouldn't do...
"Well, how else am I supposed to count the time in this place?" Nataku said aloud, annoyed at the tiny condescending voice in his head.
The lone echo of his voice answered him and he sighed deeply.
He gingerly sat down on the cold metal bed in his prison cell, painfully aware of his solitude. His supposed insanity merited him a separate room which was a luxury compared to the dungeons: spacious, padded, shimmering clean. Infinitely better than the dungeons in that respect, yet severely lacking in one element the dungeons were full of: companionship.
Ha, Nataku thought sourly. "severely lacking" must be the understatement of the century. The term "lack" connotes something that is present but is not enough, like maybe a lack of food, or a lack of clothes, or whatever. This room does NOT lack companionship. There's NO companionship to speak of in the first place.
His father was dead. Goku was gone. Except for the prison guard who deposited his meals twice a day, Nataku had not seen anyone. And why not? Because there were no visitors allowed. God said so.
"God said so." Nataku thought, disgust pulling his lips into a sneer. "God said so."
I'd gladly give up this "princely" room anytime for the dungeons, he thought.
He was very lonely, and he often awoke from his naps to find his pillow damp from tears and his heart heavy in his chest. He tried to remember his dreams but they eluded him, nimble mice that would scamper away every time he got close enough to catch them. All he could remember was the feeling of despair and fear he woke up with. He tried instead to recall those treasured happy moments of the past yet found them unable to pull him up from the pit of despair he sunk into a little more each day.
Questions gnawed at the edges of his soul, at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel both completely:
He wanted to know what kind of a world allowed a boy of ten like him to become the God of War and he wanted to know what kind of a father allowed this.
He wanted to know why people talked behind his back, and why he always heard the word "monster" in these whispered conversations.
He wanted to know why he allowed himself to be played like a lackey - by his father, by God, by the whole damned heavenly court.
He wanted to know why accepted this all in bitter silence.
Events of the past month had left a deep scar in his soul. They came to him in the bright sequence of snapshots taken one after the other, burning their details in shocking clarity deep in his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he could not forget that final deadly moment when he saw his father turn to him, mouth turning up in a sincere yet sorrowful smile, just as the grenade exploded. Nor could he forget that hellish trial where the aura of hate was so thick that it literally froze him in his tracks as he entered the room. Nor could he forget the betrayed and hurt look he saw in Goku's muddled eyes as he chained him to the rock face. And interspersed with all these terrible memories was the image of sakura blossoms wilting as soon as they fell into his bloody hands.
A premonition, perhaps, or maybe a revelation of a part of him which he tries to cloak with duty and obligation?
Perhaps. He wasn't interested in the hidden meaning of dreams but the image bothered him nonetheless.
He desperately needed someone to talk to, to pour out his feelings to. Yet there was no one. He was isolated from the rest of the world, confined to his dark prison. "My own world," Nataku thought with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Yet if one looked at his eyes that precise moment one would not see mirth but bitterness. "But even if I was out of this cursed cell, I have nobody. No one cares. No one had ever been there for me, not even Father," Nataku thought sadly.
As he lay on his bed, eyes blankly staring up at the lone white lightbulb blazing brightly in the ceiling, feeling the familiar sting of hot tears fill his eyes, and the dull ache in his heart, he remembered reading a book which advised prayer as a therapy to problems. "Prayer?" he scoffed, cynicism sharpening his words. "To whom will I pray? There are no gods in this Heaven who can help me. I can take care of myself."
"Can you, really?" That insidious, condescending voice again. "It seems you confuse care with masochism. Self-inflicted suffering. I wouldn't call that care, really."
"Shut up. I'm really tired."
"Tsk tsk Nataku. You're really pathetic. Talking to yourself and all. No wonder you're in such a pathetic state now. Shielding your eyes from the truth that was obvious to everyone at the trial. I think you're going crazy.
"I don't believe in prayer."
"But you believe in yourself? What if your own self does not merit your confidence after all?"
"Shut up. Just shut up!! I don't want anymore of this now. Just shut the hell up!!" He slammed his fist into the padded wall, feeling the satisfying crack of the cement behind the cushion. He was breathing hard, his breath coming in rapid little puffs. He stood there, head bowed, listening for that voice to speak again.
And it spoke, the cold words like a slap on the face. "You're weak, Nataku."
He threw himself on the bed, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, and thought, "I don't want anymore of this. Please, no more. I can't take this any longer." He repeated this over and over in his mind like a mantra.
I don't want anymore of this. Please, no more. I can't take this any longer.
I don't want anymore of this. Please, no more. I can't take this any longer.
I don't want anymore of this. Please, no more. I can't take this any longer.
He fell asleep with the mantra spinning dizzily in his head.
For once, he did not dream of darkness. He dreamed instead of white lilies floating in a crystal-clear pond, a soft breeze rippling the water, and he dreamed of strawberry fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, where he and Goku sat, giggling and eating the luscious fruit, sweet juice trickling down their chins and staining their lips red, and he dreamed he was happy, very happy....
A slight noise reached his sensitive ears, causing him to wake up. His room was overwhelmingly bright, and the brightness stung his eyes. He shielded his eyes from the glare and tried to search thru half-closed eyes what the source of the noise was.
The noise came again, louder this time. Out of instinct and for fear of possible attack, he immediately sat up and came face to face with a woman who let out a throaty chuckle seeing that he was awake, and said, "Nataku. You had a good rest? You've been sleeping for quite some time now." Nataku was still trying to identify who the person was, the brightness of the room sending sharp afterimages behind his eyes, the intoxicating dream clouding his mind, when felt a stab of pain in his abdomen. His mind cleared and he recognized Kanzeon Bosatsu. He groaned in pain and clutched his abdomen. Concern filled the boddhisatva's eyes and she gently pushed Nataku back onto the bed. She examined the wound and frowned. "You're bleeding again. You re-opened your wound"
Nataku replied, "If you didn't surprise me I wouldn't have jumped so quickly." He touched his wound and groaned again when he saw blood smeared on his fingers. "What are you doing here? And who let you in? I thought God said no visitors allowed."
A flicker of irritation crossed Kanzeon's face. "Ch. I don't care. I'm here because you called me."
Nataku glanced at her. "Called you? Why would I do that? I hardly even know you."
Kanzeon smiled. "You called me," she repeated softly. "I heard your prayer."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Your prayer."
"I don't believe in prayer."
"Belief doesn't matter. You called, and I'm here."
Reality hit him hard again for the second time that day. Nataku's eyes widened. "I called? You...but....but...." He was struck dumb by her reply .
Oh yes, the mantra.
"So that shit really works??" one side of him was in wonder.
"Oh my god, what have I done?" the other side of him panicked.
Nataku could not say a thing.
Kanzeon smiled again. "Close your mouth," she said, reaching out and pushing the boy's chin upwards. "You look like a fish."
Nataku turned away from her. "I feel so ashamed," he thought. "Imagine, she knows I'm weak. My deepest secret now found out..."
"Ch. Mistake or not, I'm here. I already know. You think by sending me away I'll forget your heartbreak? I wouldn't, not even if I wanted to." A shadow of pain flashed in Kanzeon's eyes. "There's really nothing to be ashamed of. It's only your pride that makes you think so," she said, apparently reading his mind. Nataku opened his eyes and stared into hers, finding nothing but compassion and a bit of humor dancing at the edges.
He took a deep breath and decided there and then to trust her. "Kanzeon- sama. You'll....help me?" he asked, hoping but still not quite daring to believe she would.
Kanzeon said, "In a way, yes I will help you. That's why I'm here. But you also have to help yourself. I can only do so much," she said, spreading her hands apart and shrugging.
"So, are you ready?"
Nataku nodded.
"Now, close your eyes. And trust me on this..."
He closed his eyes, and soon a sensation of pure bliss filled him. Nataku felt as if a great weight was lifted from his heart. His heart soared and, for the first time in a long time, he felt happy again. .
That day (or night? No one could tell.) was the turning point in his life. It was the day he, in a sense, died to the world. Kanzeon had given him the respite he had longed for: a respite from the world of confusion and hatred and sadness he faced everyday.
A sign of weakness, yes. A sign of surrender, yes. But in the end pride does not serve any purpose but to isolate one from the world and then to feast on his misery and solitude until the end.
Yet although he had the semblance of death he was alive inside. He was aware of his surroundings, he was aware of himself. The only difference is that he was blessed to remain in his throne until such time came when he was ready to face the world again. And he was content to wait, merely an observer, not a participant. After all, waiting is what gods do the best.
~TBC~ ^_^
Please tell me what you think of this chapter! :-
Author's note. First of all, I'd like to thank all who reviewed. You're all so supportive!! :- I'm glad you like the fic. This is CHAPTER 4 of the ongoing fic about the events of Nataku's life. I had a difficult time writing this because I know very little about Nataku's personality. If it's OOC, just tell me ok? :- I'm really not sure how he ended up in a coma and all, but this is my version of it. If any one of you knows what really happened, I'd be glad to hear. In the meantime, enjoy. :-
Chapter 4: Redemption
It's been a month since he imprisoned Goku in Five Finger Mountain.
How does he know this? one asks, observing the windowless room completely devoid of objects that tell the time.
It's really very simple. He knows this because he had his own way of counting time. Two plates equals one day. Since he'd already seen sixty plates come and go, that meant he'd been inside for thirty days already. Sixty divided by two equals thirty. It's that simple.
He was pleased with his ingenuity, yet he had begun to wonder whether he was going just a bit crazy. Counting plates....well, that was something a normal person wouldn't do...
"Well, how else am I supposed to count the time in this place?" Nataku said aloud, annoyed at the tiny condescending voice in his head.
The lone echo of his voice answered him and he sighed deeply.
He gingerly sat down on the cold metal bed in his prison cell, painfully aware of his solitude. His supposed insanity merited him a separate room which was a luxury compared to the dungeons: spacious, padded, shimmering clean. Infinitely better than the dungeons in that respect, yet severely lacking in one element the dungeons were full of: companionship.
Ha, Nataku thought sourly. "severely lacking" must be the understatement of the century. The term "lack" connotes something that is present but is not enough, like maybe a lack of food, or a lack of clothes, or whatever. This room does NOT lack companionship. There's NO companionship to speak of in the first place.
His father was dead. Goku was gone. Except for the prison guard who deposited his meals twice a day, Nataku had not seen anyone. And why not? Because there were no visitors allowed. God said so.
"God said so." Nataku thought, disgust pulling his lips into a sneer. "God said so."
I'd gladly give up this "princely" room anytime for the dungeons, he thought.
He was very lonely, and he often awoke from his naps to find his pillow damp from tears and his heart heavy in his chest. He tried to remember his dreams but they eluded him, nimble mice that would scamper away every time he got close enough to catch them. All he could remember was the feeling of despair and fear he woke up with. He tried instead to recall those treasured happy moments of the past yet found them unable to pull him up from the pit of despair he sunk into a little more each day.
Questions gnawed at the edges of his soul, at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel both completely:
He wanted to know what kind of a world allowed a boy of ten like him to become the God of War and he wanted to know what kind of a father allowed this.
He wanted to know why people talked behind his back, and why he always heard the word "monster" in these whispered conversations.
He wanted to know why he allowed himself to be played like a lackey - by his father, by God, by the whole damned heavenly court.
He wanted to know why accepted this all in bitter silence.
Events of the past month had left a deep scar in his soul. They came to him in the bright sequence of snapshots taken one after the other, burning their details in shocking clarity deep in his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he could not forget that final deadly moment when he saw his father turn to him, mouth turning up in a sincere yet sorrowful smile, just as the grenade exploded. Nor could he forget that hellish trial where the aura of hate was so thick that it literally froze him in his tracks as he entered the room. Nor could he forget the betrayed and hurt look he saw in Goku's muddled eyes as he chained him to the rock face. And interspersed with all these terrible memories was the image of sakura blossoms wilting as soon as they fell into his bloody hands.
A premonition, perhaps, or maybe a revelation of a part of him which he tries to cloak with duty and obligation?
Perhaps. He wasn't interested in the hidden meaning of dreams but the image bothered him nonetheless.
He desperately needed someone to talk to, to pour out his feelings to. Yet there was no one. He was isolated from the rest of the world, confined to his dark prison. "My own world," Nataku thought with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Yet if one looked at his eyes that precise moment one would not see mirth but bitterness. "But even if I was out of this cursed cell, I have nobody. No one cares. No one had ever been there for me, not even Father," Nataku thought sadly.
As he lay on his bed, eyes blankly staring up at the lone white lightbulb blazing brightly in the ceiling, feeling the familiar sting of hot tears fill his eyes, and the dull ache in his heart, he remembered reading a book which advised prayer as a therapy to problems. "Prayer?" he scoffed, cynicism sharpening his words. "To whom will I pray? There are no gods in this Heaven who can help me. I can take care of myself."
"Can you, really?" That insidious, condescending voice again. "It seems you confuse care with masochism. Self-inflicted suffering. I wouldn't call that care, really."
"Shut up. I'm really tired."
"Tsk tsk Nataku. You're really pathetic. Talking to yourself and all. No wonder you're in such a pathetic state now. Shielding your eyes from the truth that was obvious to everyone at the trial. I think you're going crazy.
"I don't believe in prayer."
"But you believe in yourself? What if your own self does not merit your confidence after all?"
"Shut up. Just shut up!! I don't want anymore of this now. Just shut the hell up!!" He slammed his fist into the padded wall, feeling the satisfying crack of the cement behind the cushion. He was breathing hard, his breath coming in rapid little puffs. He stood there, head bowed, listening for that voice to speak again.
And it spoke, the cold words like a slap on the face. "You're weak, Nataku."
He threw himself on the bed, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, and thought, "I don't want anymore of this. Please, no more. I can't take this any longer." He repeated this over and over in his mind like a mantra.
I don't want anymore of this. Please, no more. I can't take this any longer.
I don't want anymore of this. Please, no more. I can't take this any longer.
I don't want anymore of this. Please, no more. I can't take this any longer.
He fell asleep with the mantra spinning dizzily in his head.
For once, he did not dream of darkness. He dreamed instead of white lilies floating in a crystal-clear pond, a soft breeze rippling the water, and he dreamed of strawberry fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, where he and Goku sat, giggling and eating the luscious fruit, sweet juice trickling down their chins and staining their lips red, and he dreamed he was happy, very happy....
A slight noise reached his sensitive ears, causing him to wake up. His room was overwhelmingly bright, and the brightness stung his eyes. He shielded his eyes from the glare and tried to search thru half-closed eyes what the source of the noise was.
The noise came again, louder this time. Out of instinct and for fear of possible attack, he immediately sat up and came face to face with a woman who let out a throaty chuckle seeing that he was awake, and said, "Nataku. You had a good rest? You've been sleeping for quite some time now." Nataku was still trying to identify who the person was, the brightness of the room sending sharp afterimages behind his eyes, the intoxicating dream clouding his mind, when felt a stab of pain in his abdomen. His mind cleared and he recognized Kanzeon Bosatsu. He groaned in pain and clutched his abdomen. Concern filled the boddhisatva's eyes and she gently pushed Nataku back onto the bed. She examined the wound and frowned. "You're bleeding again. You re-opened your wound"
Nataku replied, "If you didn't surprise me I wouldn't have jumped so quickly." He touched his wound and groaned again when he saw blood smeared on his fingers. "What are you doing here? And who let you in? I thought God said no visitors allowed."
A flicker of irritation crossed Kanzeon's face. "Ch. I don't care. I'm here because you called me."
Nataku glanced at her. "Called you? Why would I do that? I hardly even know you."
Kanzeon smiled. "You called me," she repeated softly. "I heard your prayer."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Your prayer."
"I don't believe in prayer."
"Belief doesn't matter. You called, and I'm here."
Reality hit him hard again for the second time that day. Nataku's eyes widened. "I called? You...but....but...." He was struck dumb by her reply .
Oh yes, the mantra.
"So that shit really works??" one side of him was in wonder.
"Oh my god, what have I done?" the other side of him panicked.
Nataku could not say a thing.
Kanzeon smiled again. "Close your mouth," she said, reaching out and pushing the boy's chin upwards. "You look like a fish."
Nataku turned away from her. "I feel so ashamed," he thought. "Imagine, she knows I'm weak. My deepest secret now found out..."
"Ch. Mistake or not, I'm here. I already know. You think by sending me away I'll forget your heartbreak? I wouldn't, not even if I wanted to." A shadow of pain flashed in Kanzeon's eyes. "There's really nothing to be ashamed of. It's only your pride that makes you think so," she said, apparently reading his mind. Nataku opened his eyes and stared into hers, finding nothing but compassion and a bit of humor dancing at the edges.
He took a deep breath and decided there and then to trust her. "Kanzeon- sama. You'll....help me?" he asked, hoping but still not quite daring to believe she would.
Kanzeon said, "In a way, yes I will help you. That's why I'm here. But you also have to help yourself. I can only do so much," she said, spreading her hands apart and shrugging.
"So, are you ready?"
Nataku nodded.
"Now, close your eyes. And trust me on this..."
He closed his eyes, and soon a sensation of pure bliss filled him. Nataku felt as if a great weight was lifted from his heart. His heart soared and, for the first time in a long time, he felt happy again. .
That day (or night? No one could tell.) was the turning point in his life. It was the day he, in a sense, died to the world. Kanzeon had given him the respite he had longed for: a respite from the world of confusion and hatred and sadness he faced everyday.
A sign of weakness, yes. A sign of surrender, yes. But in the end pride does not serve any purpose but to isolate one from the world and then to feast on his misery and solitude until the end.
Yet although he had the semblance of death he was alive inside. He was aware of his surroundings, he was aware of himself. The only difference is that he was blessed to remain in his throne until such time came when he was ready to face the world again. And he was content to wait, merely an observer, not a participant. After all, waiting is what gods do the best.
~TBC~ ^_^
Please tell me what you think of this chapter! :-