Categories > Anime/Manga > .hack//Sign > Sterile Skies


by Kasan_Soulblade 0 reviews

if anyone can think of a title for this one...

Category: .hack//Sign - Rating: PG - Genres: Fantasy - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2012-08-19 - Updated: 2012-08-19 - 1604 words - Complete

Sterile skies
Chapter 5

He had his favorite dream again. The one where the wind raced by and murmured words of encouragement and truth. As it passed it told and showed him its secrets. Smiling wide he chased after that wind, its chaos wordless whistling, and he leapt.

And he left the world behind. One jump, one knowing, and the sky was opened up to him. He had wings, he could fly! Joy filled him, and on wings he could never glimpse -no matter how hard he tried- he claimed the skies. Lost in alien sensations... he could feel, feel each joint, the play of muscle on tendon under such a fragile skin, the silken brush of feathers against his cheek with each down stroke... He soared.

And left the world far behind,

Skin tingling from his face on down to his toes, he opened his eyes and smiled. Even when the alarm began its insistent howling he held fast that dream, though its details eluded him and what little remained was quickly slipping away. Then and only when the alarm's cries scaled up a notch from "background noise" to "annoying" did he stir. Rolling out of bet he slapped the snooze button, all to get a quick reprieve.

In that sudden silence, with the cool rugged floors nipping at his feet, he tried to recall, reclaim. But the dream was mostly gone by then. Only the ghost of joy remained. Smile fading into a soft grin, then even that fled as the alarm under his hand blared to life. Clicking the off button, Satoshi glared blearily at the clock. Seven oh seven, never mind it was the weekend, everyone in his house had to be ready to go at eight sharp.

As for where, that depended on mother's whim and father's will.

"I need a place of my own." He mourned, turning to better face his reflection, letting the hand over the clock drop.

The boy with glazed eyes and rumpled p.j.s that were thrown over a slender yet solid frame only mouthed his words back at his originator. Such was the nature of reflections, he supposed.
"A place of my own, one I could... sleep in at... maybe?" He suggested.

Black hair hung over his eyes, not quite long enough to bite into his eyes, but almost there. The skew of his bed head matched the disheveled rumple of his striped bed clothes quite nicely he thought. White teeth flashing in a wide yawn, Satoshi gapped at himself for a while, then when his jaw willingly closed dared a stretch.

"Well, when you think of something, let me know."

Reaching under the squarish sheet of mirror, he found the closets handle. One tug later and the silent reflection slid away taking to the preset path of well-made runners without even a click of protest. Closet open, Satoshi stared at his wardrobe, considering the multitude of disembodied pants and shirts that hung before him

Deciding anything would do, so long as it wasn't white, he snatched the first thing on hand.


Breakfast lay before him, in a neat tidy precision that bordered on fussy. Toast here, jam there at its side, ever loyal. Then of course, the center piece was a bowl of unflavored oatmeal, and at the oatmeal's virtuous right hand stood the cinnamon. It took effort not to stare at that little shaker, its brand name wrapper was not even wrinkled despite its many uses, and the fact it sat on a tea cup saucer... It bordered between amusing and worrisome, but whatever the final tally he said nothing of it, just took his seat after noting.

Clearly mother was taking her new year's resolution to be more tidy a bit too far, but she was following through on it, so he bit his tongue, nodding his good mornings to all around. To that, Mother smiled, wished him a good morning, and took her seat. Across from him, already seated and face buried in the local paper, father didn't acknowledge his son. Perfectly fine with that Satoshi snatched up the nearest butter knife and scooped a blade flat's worth of raspberry jam. Concentrating on spreading jam just so, minding the crust and making sure it was thin enough it wouldn't turn the bread soggy, Satoshi busied his mind with the "just so" part.
It helped fill in the silences, just a little.

With a stiff rustle Father turned a page, Mother murmured for him to pass the cinnamon, and he obliged. Starting on his toast he nearly choked when Father set down the front page, material obviously unread. That was a first, the first in years in fact. Normally Father would read paper from cover to cover, than pass the segments of interest to his wide and toss out the rest. Reading done, he would have declared they were going to (insert a boring yet educational place here) and that would have been that.

Taking a cup of coffee in hand, father looked to son over breakfast for the first time in... years.

"You didn't check your computer this morning before coming down." Father noted blandly, then piece done he dropped his gaze and took a large slurp of coffee.

"My account's down." Satoshi explained after a quick swallow, trying not to feel bitterness. If father had listened, stayed, he'd have heard Lios explain that with his own ears... "It'll be down until Monday morning."

Slurp done Father set his cup down, brown eyes a mystery. Content to study his son from the corner of his eyes, Father stared something fascinating beyond them all.

"That's good, means we can spend a weekend together."

It took effort, hellish effort; still he dug and found the resolve not to flinch. No matter how much he really really wanted too. Flicking his brown eyes first to his wife, than his son, Sora Izaku squared his shoulders, set his chin, and made a rather amusing show of steeling himself.

"You've got responsibilities." Father began firmly. "I won't have you slacking and dragging the family name through the mud."

Checking the urge to snap something smart, Satoshi simply worked on his porridge while father rambled on and on. The subject, one as familiar as his own face. Duty, obligation, respecting one's employer, and quality work, topics so familiar he could have finished Father's sentences for him. Seriously, it wasn't as if he'd lived on the moon for the last eighteen years!

Temper up, blue eyes -his mother's so much like hers, save they weren't soft, rarely tender- glinting, Satoshi let vent to an exasperated noise. Then, seeing the heat creep up father's face and knowing well what it meant, the young man who was sometimes a boy, often a knight, set his food aside. Appetite gone, more than gone truth be told.

"I assure you father, Balmung of the Azure Sky is dedicated to his work and wouldn't shame the name of Fianna by turning lay about."

And, crazy as it may have made him sound, it was well worth the strange look he got from both Mother and Father to have a little piece and quiet.


Where too this weekend doom trip?

Despite himself Balmung smiled. Trust Orca to find a way around the rules. If flashmail was down he'd text his fingers off to keep in touch with his bud. Jammed in the car, Father driving, Mother reading, the world rolled by. Headphones in, MP3 player going full blast, phone open and in text mode, he'd whittled the time here to there by getting small doses of "The World" all to better blot out the tension of the real.

Re: Orca- Where too?
Balmung Azur
Being dragged to the museum of the evolution of literary arts...

He waited, amused smile quirking his lip for the expected and utterly mysterious smiley. Last "Doom trip" had been a colon and a "p". The one before that had been a colon, a minus sign, and an "x". Hardly fluent in "leet", as his friend was, he'd ask what this week's smiley meant and be humored by the lengthy, technical, explanation on the inane.
Today however seemed to be a day of expectations.

re:re: lit art.
Hey, when you get down there can you look up an Emma Wielant?
re:re:re: ?
Balmung azure:
I thought I was the literary inclined one. I am not doing your studying for you this time!
re: (to the fourth)
Orca:It's not for school, it has something to do with the World.

To that there could be only one response, only one route available. With a quiet nod Balmung of the Azure Sky sent his affirmation via text. Closing his phone, resigning himself to staring out the window for the rest of the trip, he nearly bashed his head into the car's ceiling with his start of surprise when his phone shook and buzzed in his pant pocket. More than just a little surprised, the Azure sky flipped open his phone and laughed even as he read the message.

Think I forgot?

To the sound of his laughter Mother turned about as much as the seat belt would allow. Blue eyes curious. Passing the phone -and grateful that Mother had yet to figure out what the "go back" button meant and that she wasn't one to experiment- before she could even ask she looked at the message then at him.

"A cat?" Mother queried.

Knowing Orca it could be anything, a cat, a rabbit, whatever. Still he nodded.

"Looks like it."
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