Subject: PSME fanfic
From: [email-masked] (Mee-Lise Robinson)
To: [email-masked]
Date: Thu, 2 Jul 1998 03:47:40 -0400 (EDT)

Please Save My Earth is the property of Hiwatari Saki and her
distributors, not me at all...

This is an anime (not manga) based fic... because the manga isn't
released in a language I can read! Oh, the humanity! Whoops. Heh heh.
Sorry. Anyway, since this is based on the Viz dub, an individual's
family name is given last, and his/her given name first. And Haruhiko
Kasama is referred to as Haruhiko, Haru, and Hal pretty much
interchangeably. Hope you like it!

Carried By Heartache and Wings

a Please Save My Earth fanfic by Mee Robinson, who really loved this
anime a lot

     Jinpachi was startled when, late one warm summer day, he saw the
face of his long lost lady love swimming toward him through the rain.
The illusion lasted for only  moment before her features, which, in
life, had alway seemed to him to be ethereal, resolved themselves into
another girl's face, leavig his heart in his mouth, and her name trapped
painfully in his throat.

     "What's wrong?" Sakura asked as she reached his side. "You look
spooked."

     "N-Nothing," he said, as he dragged a hand shakily through his
hair. "It's just - for a minute there, I didn't recognize you." He
laughed nervously. "I don't know, maybe I was expecting to see, you
know, Shusuran."

    "I see," she said gravely, pushing back her long hair. "Look,
Jinpachi. I came here to talk to you about Issei."

    <Enju>

     Jinpachi sighed. "Yeah,  know. It's... it's awkward, Sakura. I
*know* he still cares about me, even though he says he's just joking.
"But," and here he spead his hands out in a gesture of supplication,
"what am I supposd to do about it? Even if he is Enju...he's also Issei
- and I can't just-"

     "I know," she said quickly, uncharacteristically somber. "Just...
be careful wih him, okay?"

     <Please... don't hurt her again.>

   He nodded his head and turned away.

     The warm rain continued to fall, drumming a sweet, melancholy beat
on the tree branches, where the cherry blossoms, miraculously, still
bloomed.

*****

     "Come on, Haru," said Mr. Tomura as he held out a loaded plate.

     The boy just shook his head, his long-empty stomach clenching with
nausea.

     "Listen to me, Haru," Tomura said softly, setting down the plate
and using both hands to gently tilt the Haru's face upward, forcing the
boy to look him in the eye. Haru's eyes were full of tears, and he
quickly shifted his gaze downwards. Tomura dropped his hands to the
boy's shoulders, where he could feel just how painfully thin he had
become.

     "Listen to me, kiddo. If you keep this up much longer, we'll have
to put you back in the hospital. And you worked so hard to get well,
remember?"

     It was true. He was little more than bones, and even as he tried to
push Tomura's hands away, beginning to weep once more, every movement
betrayed a frightening lack of strength.

     Tomura held on until he felt both the sobbing and Haruhiko's
remaining strength ebb away, leaving him spent, unable to support his
own weight. As Tomura eased the slight, still body back onto the pallet,
he could tell by the heaviness, and the slow shallowness of the
breathing, that Haru was unconscious once more.

     This couldn't go on. The kid was wasting away into nothing, and his
family was frantic. Perhaps the hospital would be the safest place for
him; at least then they would be able to keep him alive. 

     Tomura eased silently out of the bedroom, and closed the door.
Haru's mother stood outside, looking as though she was holding back
tears. 

     "Mrs. Kasama," he said, keeping his voice low.

     "Thank you so much for continuing to visit," she said, and he could
hear the strain in her voice. "I know if anyone can get through to him,
it would be you."

     <Or one of the other moon people,> he thought, but how on earth
could he find them? And would Haru only react with terror if he did?

     "Mrs. Kasama," he said, admitting something truer than he himself
realized. "I don't think I could *not* visit Hal. I only wish it was
doing him some good. I think it might be time to seriously consider
hospitalization, for Haru's own good."

     She nodded, and this time she really did cry, because she was
familiar with hospitals, was a woman who understood what it meant to
worry constantly over the health of an ailing child. A child in full
possesion of her heart.

*****

     Lonely. It was ironic, Issei thought, how he could be one with
nature, a participant in the Earth's great dance of life, who shared a
rare and precious connection with six other souls, and how he now felt
more alone than he'd ever felt before in his life.

     His telepathy was a little stronger now than it had been at its
onset, not much, but enough to sense Alice's love, her joy in the Earth
and her newly found Shion, Shusuran's strong concern, and Jinpachi's
discomfort. So he had been staying far away from them, all of his
closest friends, because it was all getting just a little too much to
bear. He was Issei Nishikyori, and he would have to build on that, start
anew, and make new friends with people whose pity for him was not so
clear in every glance, every falsely lighthearted gesture.

     Walk down the street. Just another ordinary high school junior on
his way home. Uniform, schoolbag. Everything normal. One foot in front
of the other. Step after step after...

     The sky was beautiful. A cloudless, vibrant blue, as empty as his
heart, sterile and scrubbed clean after the recent rains. The streets of
Tokyo were as noisy and crowded as ever, but everything seemed muffled
somehow. He felt as if he would die soon. Step after step after...

     <You've got to snap out of it, Enju!> And it was Shusuran's voice
blowing after him in the city streets. He turned his face away from the
wind and sat down on a bench. He closed his eyes, hoping that the bright
sunlight would wash over him, illuminate him, chase away the shadows of
his memories, fill him with somethng bright. Wash him clean.

     <I want to be with Gyokuran>

     The dead woman's yearning no longer flooded his heart, but every
thought, every breath was tinged with her loneliness. The sunlight did
nothing to lull her.

     <Rest now, Enju.> he willed her. <Sleep. This is not your time.>

     He opened his eyes again at the sound of a car door slamming, and
the sun had grown larger and moved westward in the sky. He stared at it,
dumbfounded and dazzled by its brightness.

     <Did I fall asleep? How long have I been here?>

     His chest filled suddenly with a pain and grief so heavy, it was
all he could do to keep on breathing. But this time it was not the
heartbreak of that long-ago far away ghost woman he knew so well.

     There were three figures that had exited the car, an attractive,
middle aged woman with dusky skin, and two men, one of whom he
recognized. All converging around the backseat, lifting someone out.

     Issei clutched at his heart as another wave of pain flowed through
him in sympathy. Lurching to his feet, he saw and recognized the fourth
passenger, in spite of how pale and changed he had become.

     "Shukaido!" he said, rushing forward to touch the other boy, to
make sure he was still alive. 

     The three adults stiffened and froze at the sound of the intruder's
voice; only one of them understood what he had said. 

     <and Shukaido, kneeling in supplication before the goddes Sarjalim,
begging for forgiveness somewhere in the darkness of his soul, heard
someone calling his name.>

     <he did not know if he turned toward her or cried out, but
suddenly, there she was, pale faced and pale haired and almost as
miserable and wretched as himself. He opened his mouth to speak>

     And, through the distance of a lifetime, Haruhiko found the
strength to open his eyes.

     She was still there, her heartbroken, compassionate face as he
remembered it, her hand on his chest, trying to do something, anything
to ease the pain that was in both their hearts.

     He was losing consciousness again. She was blurring around the
edges, coming apart, coming back together as somebody else. Only the
expression remained the same: silently grieving, pleading, just this
once, for hope to remain unbetrayed.

     "*Enju*," he gasped, reaching out to grasp weakly at Issei's arm
before he passed out.

*****

     Tomura eyed the boy cautiously as they waited in the hallway
outside of Haru's hospital room.

     <Another person from Haru's past,> he thought. Another moon
scientist, like that little abomination, Shion. But this was also the
boy who had once saved Haru from drowning in the river. And Haru didn't
seem to fearï¿½this boy as he had feared Shion, had, in fact, reached
out to him in that brief moment of lucidity. Mr. Tomura cleared his
throat.

     "Enju," he said.

     The other boy winced as he turned to face him. 

     "Issei, sir. Issei Nishikyori."

     "Issei. It looks like I owe you a second time."

     Issei flushed. "But I didn't do anything."

     "You got him to say something." Tomura searched for more words. "I
don't think you realize just how important that is. Haru hasn't said a
word in several weeks."

     <He just cries.> Tomura thought, almost feeling the chill of his
long dead brother somewhere close behind him. <It's like he waiting to
die.>

     "Waiting to die... " Issei murmured, eliciting a look of surprise
from Mr. Tomura. :Oh, Shukaido... "

*****

     <Gyokuran> Enju whispered the name in her mind, watching him, his
beautiful eyes, as they were so often now, dazzled and overflowing with
Mokuren's brilliance. Impossible to resent her for that; she was love
itself given form, the spirit of all that made life beautiful. In her
presence, you became more than what you were, what you were meant to be,
like a flower bud, unfurling its hidden glory in the warmth of Mokuren's
light. 

     If only she could sit, quietly, and bask in that light, letting it
fill her, banishing all of those little darknesses, fears and sadness,
and the pain of being alone.

     Someone was crying, sotly, despairingly, and she wondered who it
was. It couldn't be Gyokuran. She could feel that he was all right. And
it couldn't be Shion, because, as angry and hurting as he was, even he
was beginning to become whole under Mokuren's healing influence. And
neither Shusuran nor Hiiragi had any reason to weep. Shukaido?

     And so it came as a great surprise when she met her own reflection
in one of the massive station windows, and saw that it was her own face
that was contorted and tearstained. She saw the hands of te reflection
reach up, slowly, disbelieving, and the her own hands were touching
dampness, the tears still sliding, inexorably, over her flushed cheeks.

     "You've got to snap out of it, Enju," she whispered shakily to
herself, trying to dry her eyes on the sleeve of her lab coat. It was
what Shusuran would say if she ever saw her like this. 

     But when she looked back up to see if she looked presentable again,
her own reflection was gone, and there was a stranger staring back at
her. A boy, young, with sad eyes and a desperately serious manner. He
was speaking to her, trying to tell her something, but she could only
hear the sound of her own ragged breathing. She leaned closer.

    "Sleep," he mouthed. "This is not your time."

     Enju fainted.

*****

     Even unconsciousness was restless and full of dreams. Someone was
crying, but it couldn't be her. She was feeling nothing now, and
lightened by this lack of feeling, remote and insubstantial, as if
someone had opened her up and scrubbed out her insides, and then swathed
her in cotton. Whoever it was was crouching on his hands and knees in
the darkness, sobbing his heart out. Shukaido. She had always felt sorry
for him, with his gentle manners and daydreaming eyes, because he too
was lonely, another man who could never capture or fill Mokuren's heart.
She drew strength from him too. Because if he could go on, living
through each day without breaking apart from the pain, then so could
she.

     She knelt down beside him without knowing why, and enfolded him in
her arms. And with this motion, the numbness flees from her, and she can
feel he own pain and his, engulfing and terrible, full of darkness... 

*****

     Shukaido was surprised when Enju's first act, upon awakening, was
to take him into her arms and hold him tightly.

     "Hey, now," he said, amused and a little bit worried. "It's all
right. Everything's all right."

     She only tightened her grip in response, burying her face in his
chest. He held her gingerly, embarrassed, and glanced at Gyokuran, who
was looking on with concern and just a shade of jealousy. Shukaido
shifted his position a bit so they could switch places, and then
Gyokuran was holding her, stroking her hair and asking what was wrong.
She held on for a while, hiding her face and shaking from suppressed
sobs. Finally, she looked up, smiling, her eyes full of tears. 

     "I... I guess it was all a dream... " she whispered.
 
*****

     And Issei awakened, exhausted, the light of the new day heavy on
his closed eyelids.

*****

     Jinpachi was halfway across the street when he noticed Issei
walking toward him. Too late to pretend he hadn't noticed and walk
another way. Taking a deep breath, he waved, smiling. Issei waved back
slowly.

     "Hey, how's it going?" Jinpachi asked when they were face to face,
followed by a truly concerned, "Jeez, are you okay?"

     "What?" Issei returned his gaze uncomprehendingly.

     "You look like hell!"

     "Oh," Issei said, rubbing his eyes. "I just had trouble sleeping
last night, is all."

     "If you say so... So, how come you're up and about so early?"

     Issei's hesitation seemed more due  to distraction than secrecy,
which was uncharacteristic and worrying. When he finally answered, it
was as if he was speaking from a great distance.

     "On my way to the hospital. I thought I'd stop by and visit Shukado
- I mean, Haruhiko Kasama - and see how he was doing."

     "Shukaido's in the hospital?"

     Issei nodded. "They brought him in yesterday... they think his
heart's giving out."

     They walked together in silence for a bit, both knowing that it was
really shame, that it was really guilt that was killing Haru, straining
his heart past all human limits of endurance.

     Jinpachi felt his own chest tightening a little at the thought of
the Kasama boy dying. After all they'd been through just to be here. He
couldn't die...

     "Mind if I come with you?" he asked gruffly.

     Issei shook his head.

*****

     Mr. Tomura was already there, sitting at Haru's bedside when they
arrived. He rose when they entered the room. 

     "This is my friend, Jinpachi Ogura. But on the moon, we called him
Gyokuran," Issei said quietly, without choking once on the name. 

     "Pleased to meet you," said Mr. Tomura, bowing. 

     <I guess it's true,> he thought. <Haru was only afraid of Shion.> 

     "I'm glad you came," he said. "Thank you."

     The boys nodded and sat down.

     <Maybe your heart was always weak, Shukaido,> Jinpachi thought,
feeling troubled. <And maybe Shion will never forgive you. I don't know
if I could, if I were him. But you can't die now - we just found you -
we were supposed to give each other strength, damnit, not tear each
other apart! And isn't Sarjalim supposed to be infinite forgiveness?
What good will you do by dying? Shukaido... don't die... >

     <Shukaido, please.> These were Enju's thoughts now, and Issei was
too tired to fight them. At least they were true thoughts, and full of
love. <I drew strength from you on the moon, even though I never told
you. I used to watch you, and think that I could bear living my life if
yo could bear living yours. So, please. Take strength from me now. Let
me repay you for what you gave without knowing.>

     <Haru, you've got to pull yourself out of this. You've got your
whole life ahead of you. I've tried to protect you so you could have a
chance, but how can I protect you from yourself? Haru - people here care
about you - your family loves yu, and... so do I. Please, be strong.
Please, find the strength that you need... not to leave us all behind.
If you're doing this to atone for what you've done in the past...
Listen, death isn't redemption, *life* is the redmeption. You can't
change the past - the past is past - you can only change the future...
by *living*... >

     The day waned, dusk fell. The birds sang sweetly, and visiting
hours were over. Issei and Jinpachi walked home together in silence,
each lost in his own thoughts.

*****

     Shukaido was sobbing, shamed and disgusted by his own weakness,
both the deed, and his inability to bear the consequences with dignity.
Catching his breath, he struggled to contain his grief in silence. 

     Someone else was crying. But who else would be here but him? This
was his own punishment, his own purgatory. Unless the goddess Sarjalim
herself wept for his disgrace. 

     But it was Enju. Poor, innocent Enju, who had suffered so much
grief when Gyokuran died. Who had suffered even when he lived, because
he had loved another.

     <No, Enju, don't touch me! You shouldn't be here - this is a place
for punishment - Enju, you don't deserve to suffer. Not now, and not
then either. Enju... please... let go of me... >

     But she only embraced him tighter, holding onto him as if both
their lives depended on it. Shukaido struggled, but she would not let
go. In the end, he could only free himself by being somewhere else, as
only he and Shion had the power to do. Because if he were somewhere
else, then she would have no reason to stay... 

     <It's because Enju was a telepath,> Haruhiko said/thought, wherever
this new place was. <Sometimes she felt the others' pain as if it was
her own.>

     <No,> Issei answered. <Did you know her so little? It was because
she cared.>

     <She cared?>

     Haru felt his heart spasm a little, but it didn't hurt as much as
he thought it would. He looked own at his hands and tried not to hate
himself as Issei looked quietly on.

*****

     Dawn was breaking as Haru opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. He
felt stronger today, almost rested, even though the night had been
filled with strange dreams, as always. He was blinking sleepily at the
ceiling of the hospital room, trying to figure out where he was, when
Mr. Tomura woke in the chair beside his bed.

     "Mr. Tomura... where am I?"

     Mr. Tomura was trying hard not to cry.

     "Oh, kid. Oh, kid." was all he could manage to say.

*****

     Half a town away, Issei Nishikyori smiled, only slightly sadly, in
his sleep.

- THE END -