Lys Summers
A Halloween/Samhain story. It's a companion piece to my Becchan's "The Midnight Hour" (you don't have to read it to understand my story, but it's a great fic) - a different take on some of the concepts and styles contained in the work - a different motivation behind actions that sometimes mirror each other. This is what happens when you brainstorm together, and you just so happen to share a brain. If I inspired her to write her story as she claims, then it was that same story of hers that moved me to write my own. If you see any reoccurring themes, no I did not rip her off :P I fed Becs-darling the Samhain information, and she in return gave me inspiration. *heart*
Now, I appologize for my long winded ramblings. On with the show!
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Imaginations from the other side,
Far out of nowhere it got back to my mind.
Out of the dark, back to the light...
-- "Imaginations from the Other Side" Blind Watchman.
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Samhain. Summer's End. The end of light, and of life. The end of one year, and beginnings of another. While the night cries out in its death, it also holds the promise of rebirth, of regeneration. It is a night which does not belong to the living or to those who are dead - and it is so that the barrier between these two plains of existence is pulled so thin, too thin; time being ripped apart and thrown into chaos for its reconstruction on the morn. This night exists outside of time, the line between light and darkness, life and death, as fine as the razor edge of a wire; a flimsy barrier at best, whispers and cries and prayers echoing through to the other side, close enough to be felt, but the danger of reaching over still too great. A wire that perhaps is more like the blade of a knife, cutting all those who dare to walk along it.
In his bed Hisoka shivered, tossing his head back and frowning in his sleep. Breath coming forth in uneven gasps, the boy's eyes, closed in a mockery of rest, darted to and fro beneath closed lids. The uneasiness that had possessed him as the sun sank lower in the sky had failed to abate, instead only growing worse as the night wore on. He was alone; on this hallowed eve the shinigami has been called to duty, the deluge of spirits and demons that roamed the night greater in number than any number of entire weeks combined. But Hisoka was here, twisting fitfully in bed, having been sent home after the first hour of darkness had left him shaky and weak, head throbbing and senses screaming from the empathetic overload.
On this night of souls it is believed that those of the dead can cross over this barrier, if they have but recently departed from life. The loved ones of those who have gone before should welcome the spirits back into their lives, if only for a little while. They set out lights to guide the way, set out a place at the table for them to return to. At the same time, however, all must be careful to ward their homes from those vengeful souls who may wander by, seeking retribution from beyond the void.
Hisoka felt the tug on his mind, could hear the whispers echoing in the dark. His heart was conflicted - surrounding him were the murmurs of those lost, the spirits yearning, longing for home. They enticed him, prodded him - this was not where he belonged. How bitter he was - no, he was getting mixed up again - how bitter they were to be trapped beyond the light. They wanted to return home, even if Hisoka did not. When his mind first was pulled in that direction, as he almost unconsciously grasped for his post-mortem gifts and reached for home, but he had no sooner closed his eyes than they snapped open once again, his knees giving out as he crashed to the floor, head ringing as if it had been delivered a blow. There were no guiding lights there for him. Only hatred and the strong flare of protections set to keep the dead from coming near. He tried to close his senses to those calls that bid him go even though he knew that he was not wanted.
Time doesn't hold much meaning tonight. It flows over barriers like water breeching a dam, and those who know how to read it can find many secrets on this night. It is a point when the natural intuition is heightened, when people search for truth. For hundreds of years young people would divine with anything at hand, trying to reveal the identity of their one true love. It is a time of death, but for many it is also a time of new beginnings. People try to prepare for what is to come.
The door clicked shut behind Tsuzuki as he moved into the hallway of his apartment. Toeing off his shoes, he divested himself of suit jacket and tie, letting them fall carelessly on the couch. "Hisoka?" He called out to the quiet apartment. "Hisoka, I'm home early. Are you okay?" Frowning in concern Tsuzuki continued down the hall, pausing just outside the bedroom door. He could hear the harsh, labored breathing from within; tentatively he pushed open the door, not wanting to unnecessarily wake its occupant. His eyes traveled immediately the slender figure lying amidst the tangled sheets, understanding that things weren't exactly all right. He had been apprehensive at the first sign of Hisoka's distress in the early evening, and even after his partner had left the anxiety had mounted, finally causing so much of a distraction that the chief sent him home, too. He felt vaguely guilty; Halloween was absolutely crazy in the land of the dead, but Hisoka not being well took precedence over the busy day. He was concerned, seemingly out of nowhere his partner had started to go downhill right when the evening fell and the patrols needed to be sent out… Right when evening fell on Hisoka's first Samhain in Meifu…
Tsuzuki had to restrain himself from hitting his head in frustration. Connect-the-dots had never been his forte.
It is on the eve of new beginnings that people try to shake the negativity of the previous year and create new goals to work toward, ensuring that they make the most of what time they are given.
Hisoka was adrift in his fevered dreams, feeling his consciousness battered from every angle by whispers and calls, the overwhelming notion of fear outweighing nearly everything else. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the night. Fear of death. This was contrasted by a sharp and bitter longing, mixed in with everything else that chased his mind into exhaustion. He could feel the presences creeping closer, the intensity of the emotions increased and a crushing worry joined the assault; he felt as if he was being pulled in two different directions, being shaken into realization.
Eyes flying open, Hisoka threw himself upright in bed, straight into the chest of the other man sitting there, his arms grasping Hisoka's shoulders tightly where they had rested while trying to rouse the youth. The boy came into understanding - it hadn't been a dream; the assault on his mind continued into the waking world, his partner's strong arms remaining in place from when he tried to awake him from an apparent nightmare.
Samhain begins with death; chaos roaming in the darkness that accompanies the dying of the old year.
Hisoka clung desperately to Tsuzuki, his sob-like gasps for air muffled by the older man's shoulder. For his part Tsuzuki only tightened his embrace, rocking the slender youth in his arms as if he were still a child. The comfort of his emotions filtered into the empath's mind, diluting the torrent of negativity that he had been enveloped in during the night, though not removing it completely. He could not say how long they sat there, shaking and hurting and sometimes crying out into the dark; a duration of time in which Hisoka never once released the other man from his panicked hold. They stayed there until the rosy fingers of dawn grasped at that darkness, pushing the black from the sky, chasing away the last remnants of night, and with it the lingering dead. They stayed there together until the dawn arose triumphant, bright sunlight shining down on the two figures lying hopelessly entwined on the bed.
A new day had come.
Samhain brings a promise of life; of rebirth and redemption.
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End