I don’t want this.
Don’t want it at all.
I don’t even regret scaring the porter half to death, him insisting that I take the parcel else he be skewered in the most unpleasant of places (no doubt Hatake’s very wording), eventually taking it from his shaking hands and slamming the door without so much as offering a tip.
Heavy, so very heavy, more for the implications of such a parcel than the contents therein.
Damn you Hatake!
No intentions of ever setting foot in Puerto Rico, no intentions of even a footprint of him being seen anywhere for a long time, if ever. He’d gone of the grid and that only meant one thing: he was going to rip apart Illaria from the seams or die trying.
All the scrolls, all the tomes lying before me simply an extension of the flash drive blinking on the laptop, my fingers tracing the beautiful calligraphy, the elegant cursive.
Daniel was gone, Julia, gods knew where she stood, so I suppose I was the only one. Where I should feel honor that he entrusted this legacy to me, I only feel loss, anger, betrayal. Until a glint of gold winked at me, nestled between the scrolls, peeking from a swath of brocade, silver silk. I gathered it up gently, carefully removing the silk, my breath catching in my throat, tears springing to my eyes.
The bowls.
The broken bowls.
Those I thought long for the trash heap, here they were, pieces mended with gold gilt which wove along the clay like a spider’s webbing. The artistry and significance of kintsukuroi is not lost on me in the least, yet he felt the need to hammer it home with the note placed lovingly between them, the parchment looking almost as old as he.
“Remember, all that is broken is not always lost, and that which would be considered useless is often the greatest treasure.
You have been, and always shall be, one of my greatest treasures.”
Frak you Hiroshi.
Frak you and your elegant, sappy, selfish self!
You must excuse me now, for I know all to well how saline damages silk…..
Spektral Helix 