Piece of Heaven, Weiß Kreuz Piece of Heaven single
Written by Aida Takeshi, Music & Arrangement by Nishioka Kazuya
Performed by Weiß (Koyasu Takehito, Seki Tomokazu, Miki Shin'ichiro, Yuuki Hiro)
Romanization and translation by Jey Kama
Central seishi: Tamahome (Suzaku)
Fushigi Yuugi and all characters are property of Watase Yuu.
 

 
          I sit by her bedside, holding her hand after she falls into a troubled sleep. Outside the sky is still clear, still bright. With the events that had happened today, I'd expect it to be storming, expect the very sky to be raining down in fury and despair.
          Her hair has come undone from the ever-present odango buns on the top of her head and I take it into my hands, untangling it gently, as not to wake her. Though I doubt Suzaku himself could wake her now if he tried.
          It is all too much…too much for her. She is just fifteen years old, a child, really. So unfair, even if in this world she is considered a woman.
          The door creaks open. "Tamahome?"
          I turn. It is Chichiri. His mask is off, and I can see the tracks of tears on his face. I beckon him in and he comes to stand by her bedside, staring down at her.
          "How is she?"
          I shake my head. "Maybe she'll sleep it off."
          "These things…take time. You can't-" he chokes. "Just sleep it off."
          "I know," I say, touching his arm briefly. "I know."
          "So young…" he sighs, trailing off. His eye closes momentarily. "I am so tired…"
          "Go to sleep, Chichiri. You need it more than anyone."
          "He drowned, Tamahome." Chichiri is staring at me again, his eye intense, the scar a vivid blotch against his pale skin. "He drowned."
          "I-"
          "I let him drown."
          Before I can say anything else, Chichiri turns and walks quietly to the door, closing it with a click.
          Beside me, Miaka stirs with a small sigh, hand reaching out.
          "Ami-Amiboshi."

 
          I remember when I thought life was hard. Providing for a family of four and a sick father, wrestling with money and work.
          I wish life were just that hard again.
          I'm not doing a very good job, am I? I'm the one in love with the miko, so I should have all the answers, shouldn't I? All the answers to what she needs so the dream of peace in Konan will come true.
          But of course I don't. Maybe the others do, but I don't. I'm the least of them, that I know.
          It's just a dream, after all.
          Miaka sighs again and I grasp her hand, wishing she were awake so I could hold her in my arms and she could cry to her heart's content. She needs to cry, to let it all out. It will be better if she does.

 
          The wind flutters through the window, stirring the silk curtains, and I draw the blanket up to her shoulders so she won't catch a chill. I listen through the window attentively before I realize that Amiboshi is gone and there won't be any flute music coming through the window anymore to calm me.
          Miaka won't cry. I know that much. Not for Amiboshi. I understand.
          It hurts too much to cry.
          I release her hand on the coverlet and get up, half-lying back down by her pillow and moving her head to my chest. She stirs a little and mumbles something, then falls back into a fitful sleep. I can tell she is dreaming, by the movements she makes. Yuiren used to do the same.
          My beloved little sister and the woman I wish to make my wife. How alike they both are, and yet how different.
          Yuiren would cry. But Miaka won't.
          She's too strong for that.
          I wish she would cry.

 
          The door opens again, and this time it is Mitsukake, bearing a bag of something in his right hand. Tama-neko is not on his shoulder, for once. He closes the door and turns to me.
          I smile wanly. "Konnichiwa."
          He does not say anything in return, simply nods gravely, and comes to stand beside the bed. He makes no comment about seeing her head pillowed on my chest or the fact that I am lying in the bed beside her.
          "I brought her some medicine."
          "Does she need medicine?"
          "It would be for the best. Just to help her sleep. At this rate, she will be having nightmares."
          I watch as he pours something from a small bottle onto a spoon and gently place it into her slack mouth. She swallows and yawns, then snuggles closer to me. Even asleep she is just as desperate for anything to eat. I look at Mitsukake and we both smile.
          "Did you see Chichiri?"
          He shakes his head. "No."
          "He was pretty upset…maybe you should check on him?"
          "Upset?" Mitsukake looks faintly surprised. "Chichiri?"
          I sigh. "Chichiri…I don't know what was wrong with him. He looked like a ghost."
          "I will go see what I can do for him." He rests his hand upon my shoulder gently as I lay back down on the bed. "Sleep well, Tamahome."
          After the door closes behind him I look down at Miaka again and give a start of surprise. There are tears running down her cheeks, dripping onto my shirt, from her closed eyelids. She weeps silently.
          "Oh, Miaka."

 
          I rub her back gently, humming a tune absently. Stop abruptly as I realize that is one of the songs Amiboshi used to play for us, sitting out in the garden in the bright sunlight.
          I remember Tasuki and I made up words to it, once. Nonsense words, really, when we were bored and restless, working off nervous energy. We danced around, screaming them at the top of our lungs as Hotohori and Mitsukake frowned at us from the balcony where they were talking about something. Amiboshi just grinned and nodded and played on while we cavorted around in the garden like children, Tasuki waving his tessen like a maniac.
          It seems like such a long time ago.

 
          Softly I begin to hum it again. A tribute to Amiboshi then, though small and not really fitting. A tribute, in my own way.
          I can tell that Mitsukake's medicine is starting to take effect as Miaka relaxes in my arms and stops mumbling. The tears stop also, but there are dark blots on my shirt still. Strange that something as small as tears last for such a long time.
          I wonder where the real Chiriko is. If Hotohori has taken him into that private room where he first received me and Miaka with the Shin Jin Ten Chi Sho. If Chiriko is astounding everyone with his knowledge of various subjects. Chiriko…I try to think of his face but all I can see is Amiboshi's.
          Because to me, Amiboshi will always be Chiriko.
          I hug Miaka tightly, and if she were awake she would squeak and protest and say I was being hentai. But there is none of that now. I hold her as tightly as I can and suddenly, I begin to cry.
          I feel like I am losing her.

 
          The sunlight slants in through the small window and through my tears I can almost imagine a faint figure on the sill, outlined in golden sunbeams. It shimmers and for a second I can see it smile. Then it raises an instrument to its lips and begins to play.
          An angel?
          "Amiboshi…"
          I hum the old tune again, not daring to blink because I know if I do, the tears will fade and so will the figure in the window, only a part of my imagination. But as long as I stay here with Miaka in my arms and the wet tears in my eyes, he will still be there.
          I reach out one hand towards him, another one to stroke Miaka's hair, but as I do that the last vestiges of tears fall from my eyes and he is gone. Just a memory and the echo of flute in my ears.
          I wish…I wish I could have been as strong as he was. As brave, as courageous as he was. I wish that he were still here with us now so I can ask him why.
          The tears run down my cheeks now just as they ran down the cheeks of my beloved just moments before, and again I can see him faintly through the window, smiling, reaching out his hand to meet mine.
          Don't cry, Tamahome, he says.
          Don't cry.