まほら (mahora) wrote in sessou, @ 2008-12-23 23:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | 50stories, nightmare, niya/sakito |
[50stories] Beneath the Golden Sky - Niya x Sakito - 2/3
Title: Beneath the Golden Sky
Theme: 7. Autumn/fall
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ni~ya x Sakito (Nightmare)
Disclaimer: Mine? Oh, how I wish....
Comments: Happy Halloween! :3
Part 1
Night fell far too quickly for Sakito’s liking, bringing with it a full moon and stiff breeze - the perfect sort of evening for all manner of hauntings. All day he had been doing everything in his power to convince himself that ghosts couldn’t possibly exist, but the memory of the old man’s sudden disappearance practically right before his eyes wasn’t doing much in the way of reassuring his jangled nerves. Instead, the guitarist would move on to thinking up excuses to cancel his plans with Niya, but there was nothing he could come up with plausible enough to deter the other man. Drooping, he would admit defeat temporarily and return to disproving the ghost theory. It was a vicious cycle that dominated Sakito’s conscious mind the entire afternoon. He was just beginning his twenty-third cycle when a solid knock on the door abruptly interrupted him, causing the slender guitarist to jump out of his skin in alarm. Placing a steadying hand over his erratically thumping heart, Sakito stared at the door, knowing it must be Niya, but wary nonetheless after so many hours of a creeping fear infecting his brain.
Moving to the door, he unlatched the lock and opened it a sliver, peeking out with widened eyes. The visitor was indeed Niya, he noticed with discomfort and relief at the same time - relief that it wasn’t the Bogeyman and discomfort in that he hoped perhaps the bassist would have forgotten. Blinking dumbly at the man outside for a moment, Sakito finally opened the door all the way to let him in, “Hey. I wasn’t…uh…expecting you so soon.”
Niya glanced as his watch and raised an eyebrow at Sakito. “It’s almost ten, when did you think I was going to show up? You look a little pale. Did you see a ghost or something?”
Sakito pulled a face at his friend, who was grinning devilishly at him from the doorway. “Funny, very funny. I need to get my jacket, then we can go.”
Laughing, Niya leaned against the wall to wait, watching the guitarist fumble around the room and return shortly after dressed appropriately for the weather. The bassist suspected they weren’t going to see much of anything, but he found it entertaining and even a little bit cute how nervous Sakito was acting. Not that the smaller man wasn’t usually anxious about something, but the fact that the reason behind tonight’s anxiety was a ‘haunted house’ seemed overly feminine, even for him. As soon as Sakito finished tying his shoes, the two set off down the hall, atmosphere between them decidedly different than early that day. Lazy, comfortable companionship was replaced by an distinctly edgy air, but whether it was from the thrill of breaking into an abandoned house or something else between them neither could put his finger on he couldn't say. As they turned the corner and entered into the elder part of Sakito’s neighborhood, the trees seemed to creak a little more than they had before and far in the distance the hoots of an owl floated on the wind until it reached their perked ears. Altogether eerie, Sakito thought to himself and with a shiver he crossed his arms tightly over his chest to keep out the chill and more menacing things that might be lurking just beyond the shadows. Glancing at Niya, he noticed the other appeared unfazed by the change in the wind and enviously watched him out of the corner of his eye until they reached the heavy irons gates of their destination.
“Well…you first,” Sakito whispered to Niya, standing uneasily before the fence. Niya eyed the house, briefly showing his first sign of dread before hiding it again under a carefully neutral mask. There was no way he was backing out of this now, though he knew Sakito wasn’t the type of person to tease later. No, his personal pride wouldn’t allow him to flee and, mustering the courage to take the first step, unlatched the gate. Though quite old, the metal didn’t protest as it swung open, gliding easily with the slightest push. Niya wasn’t sure what would have been more sinister - the gate opening in complete silence like it had or the high-pitched whine of rusted metal grating against its equally rusted hinges. Attributing the noiselessness to the old man’s care, the bassist stepped into the yard, treading as lightly as possible to avoid crunching the leaves. Sakito followed suit, mimicking the bassist’s steps as he trailed behind.
They reached the porch without mishap, and after some fumbling the door was soon open, thankfully (or distressingly in Sakito’s mind) unlocked. Once inside, the two men stood, releasing the breaths they hadn’t even realized they were holding and letting their eyes adjust to their new, blackened surroundings. “Good thing the moon is full,” Niya murmured, afraid to speak louder in the hushed enclosure of the traditional entrance. Cold moonbeams were the only source of light illuminating the short hallway ahead, and even that was dim and patchy at best. Too late, Niya wished he had asked Sakito to bring a flashlight, but it was far too late for that now.
Behind him, Sakito nodded, unable to overcome the odd sensation that they had entered into another dimension where the voice of the wind was sucked out from its sighing throat. Indeed, the house was oddly quiet save for their own breathing and shuffled footsteps. So silent, in fact, that Sakito fancied he could hear his own heart echoing through the empty hall.
“Well…I guess we should have a look around…” Niya whispered back to Sakito, not sounding at all sure of himself anymore. He received another nod in reply, the guitarist having temporarily lost his power of speech. Not one to encourage what he didn’t care for, Sakito waited patiently for the bassist to lead the way, preferring selfishly that his band mate go first to scope out any potential dangers. This was his idea, he deserved it, though Sakito thought himself very stupid now for agreeing to come along in the first place. Finally, Niya began to stride warily forward, patting one hand against the wall to keep his balance in case of a sudden step or obstacle. At the end of the hall there was a short staircase, and after a glance and a shrug in Sakito’s direction, he climbed, testing each step lest one of them be loose enough to break through. Niya neared the top with minimal creaking, but the last step before the second floor proved to be a mistake. With a surprised gasp, his foot broke through the rotted wood and the bassist tumbled forward onto the landing, ankle trapped between the splintered boards. “Shit…” he hissed, trying to twist into a position where he could get better leverage to pull out his foot.
Almost blind in the faint light, Sakito couldn’t see exactly what happened, and appeared as quickly as he dared at Niya’s side. Heart hammering in his ribcage, he knelt down on the landing, breathless, “What happened? Are you alright?”
Through clenched teeth, Niya replied, “Yeah, I’m fine. I think my foot’s stuck, though.” Giving the limb a sharp twist, he confirmed that speculation, groaning unhappily. “Yeah, definitely stuck.”
On hands and knees, Sakito leaned over the broken step, feeling around for Niya’s ankle to assess the problem. Solid shards of wood stuck out around the hole, bracing the bassist’s leg in an awkward position, but as far as he could tell Niya’s thick gym sock had saved his skin from any serious gouges. “I think if I lift up part of the plank you’ll be able to get loose. Pull when I say, okay?”
Grunting with the effort, Sakito managed to pry up the broken boards on one side, bending the rotted slats back until they creaked in protest, but allowing Niya enough space to wriggle his foot out. The boards snapped angrily back in place the moment Sakito let go, and the two men sat resting on the landing, both immensely grateful that they wouldn’t be spending the rest of the night here or end up with an embarrassing breaking and entering charge on their permanent records. They looked at each other, unspoken relief hanging in their air between them, before Niya pushed himself up, testing his weight in increments on the unfortunate ankle to be sure there was no unseen injury. Finding it sound, but probably bruised, he reached down to offer a hand to Sakito, who was still sitting on the floor. “Come on, let’s keep going.”
Sakito opened his mouth to protest, wanting to get out before anything else happened, but the bassist’s tone suggested he was more determined than ever to explore this house and either prove or disprove the old man’s ghost theory. He couldn’t bring himself to deny the other his resolve, and took the hand to be pulled to his feet.
Along the landing were doors, some opened to empty rooms, some stuck fast with age and disuse. They tried all of them, one after another, finding nothing of interest save for a lot of cobwebs and a pile of dead leaves that had blown in from a broken window. Disheartened, they stopped and returned to the edge of the staircase to sit, even Sakito beginning to wish that something would happen.
“Do you think that old man was making it all up?” Niya asked, no longer bothering to keep his tone quiet. For him, the magic was gone when the ghost failed to appear even though they had been searching for nearly an hour.
“I don’t know, maybe he was.” It certainly appeared that way, yet something about the house still felt strange to Sakito, like there was a third, unseen presence passing by invisibly in the dark corners of every room. Of course, that could be merely his brain mingling the old man’s disappearing trick with the story of the dead girl’s ghost projecting a new entity on the house. “If it was a fake, he was certainly very convincing….”
“Yeah, I bet he’s told that same urban legend to a hundred unfortunate people by now,” Niya replied with a laugh, leaning back on his hands. “I dunno though, even if nothing happens I still had a pretty good time.”
“Really? But you got your foot stuck in the stairs.”
“Yeah, I used to do this kind of stuff all the time as a kid. Brings back memories,” the bassist replied, trailing off momentarily as he remembered his childhood. “In fact, I had a friend almost just like you back then.”
Sakito leaned on the palm of his hand and tilted his head toward Niya, curiosity apparent in his soft smile. “Really?”
“Except she was…a girl,” he continued, earning himself a playful swat from the guitarist. Laughing again, Niya sat up turned toward the other. “You know…we don’t spend enough time together.”
“We spend lots of time together,” Sakito replied, thinking of the long hours spent practicing, playing cards on the tour bus, and kicking the bassist out of their shared hotel room after he tried to order porn on the TV for the fifth time in the night.
Niya guessed that those were the things his friend would automatically think of. “No, that’s not what I mean. I think we should spend more time together outside of the band. Hang out and stuff…like friends do.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah… Movies, dinner…”
Niya trailed off into silence, watching Sakito lean towards him just as he was leaning toward the guitarist, seemingly drawn together like two magnets. Bare inches apart, he noticed Sakito’s lips were parted ever so slightly, tantalizing in the ghostly glow of the moonlight, and he could do nothing to stop the flood of similar thoughts that invaded his brain. He could see the other incline his head, the perfect angle for them to fit together like pieces of a puzzle, Sakito’s soft breath brushing past his face. The warmth of his skin reached Niya’s mouth for fleeting seconds before Sakito suddenly veered off, attention directed to the right and behind him, a look of utter terror spreading swiftly across his features.
Perplexed, Niya started to ask him what the problem was, but an icy chill crawled up his spine like a spider before he could get the words out. Part of him shrieked to flee first and look later, but the bassist kept control of himself and turned slowly, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Immediately behind him she stood, petite and elegant and utterly transparent. Niya jumped in his seat, backpedaling further away from the ghost, while his stomach flip-flopped up into his throat. Behind him against the wall, Sakito was frozen in place, staring unblinking ahead while clapping a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.
Eternity passed by while the two men sat rooted in place, but the ghost did nothing but stand facing the staircase with downcast eyes. She didn’t acknowledge them or show any indication that she was aware of their presence, but they most certainly were aware of her. Sakito was the first to move again, crawling forward a couple of brave feet and peering up at the ghost from his position on the floor. “She’s crying,” he said softly, reaching back to tug on Niya’s shirt.
Returning to life, the bassist joined Sakito near the specter, noticing that the silence of the house was broken by hollow, barely audible sobs from ghostly Mayuko. “Yeah… Can she see us?”
“I don’t think so,” the guitarist answered, awed as he hesitantly reached out a hand to wave in her line of vision, but receiving no reaction. He sat back, drawing his knees up and locking both arms around them. “She’s so…sad.”
Boldly, Niya stretched out a hand and poked his finger into her foot. Mayuko flickered, but remained in place. “Huh…”
Frowning, Sakito took a handful of the bassist’s shirt and pulled him back. “Maybe we should just leave her alone. Let’s go…”
Rising from his place on the floor, the guitarist started down the steps, carefully avoiding the broken one and keeping close to the railing in case any of the others decided to pull the same stunt. Niya followed more reluctantly, casting glances back at Mayuko, as they headed for the door. Once outside and safely back on the sidewalk where the air didn’t seem quite so heavy, they both finally came to terms with that they had just experienced.
“Holy crap…that was…wild,” Niya breathed, taking his place beside Sakito while they walked.
“I’m not sure ‘wild’ is the best way to describe it….” Biting on his lower lip, the guitarist was having a hard time shaking the sorrow that had settled in his chest. The old man’s story had been true to say the least, but seeing the spirit of Mayuko Sakamoto come to life had a greater impact on him than the initial intrigue earlier that day.
“You know what we should do? Bring a camera and come back on Halloween. The other guys will never believe this.”
Thoughtfully, Sakito considered his idea, but for a very different reason than delinquent fun. “Yeah, we should go back. But first we should find her lover’s grave.”