Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Weiss Kreuz (I wish I did) or any copyrights in the Jane Eyre book. I am not doing this for profit so please do not sue me because I have no money.
Author: Max Ikari
Pairings: Yohji/Aya of course…
Warnings: Sap, romance, violence, sexual situations, AU, NC-17. I think that covers it.
This is a crossover story. It is WK/Jane Eyre so if you do not want to read it’s better not to. I love Jane Eyre and hopefully by the end of this you will want to read it too. May be a lot of parallel between Jane Eyre and my story, because I am basically trying to rewrite Jane Eyre but changing it to suit Ran’s situation so please bear with me. Of course I have to change lots of things later on to get the guys together (physically, hehe). Have to understand, this is around the 16th century so people speak differently. Trying this as an experiment, hopefully it will work.
This story is from Ran’s POV.
Morningside Heights
Chapter 4
ERE the half-hour ended, five o'clock struck; school was dismissed, and all were gone into the refectory to tea. I now ventured to descend: it was deep dusk; I retired into a corner and sat down on the floor. The spell by which I had been so far supported began to dissolve; reaction took place, and soon, so overwhelming was the grief that seized me, I sank prostrate with my face to the ground. Now I wept: Omi was not here; nothing sustained me; left to myself I abandoned myself, and my tears watered the boards.
'Never,' I thought; and ardently I wished to die. While sobbing out this wish in broken accents, some one approached: I started up- again Omi was near me; the fading fires just showed him coming up the long, vacant room; he brought my coffee and bread.
'Come, eat something,' he said; but I put both away from me, feeling as if a drop or a crumb would have choked me in my present condition. Omi regarded me, probably with surprise: I could not now abate my agitation, though I tried hard; I continued to weep aloud. He sat down on the ground near me, embraced his knees with his arms, and rested his head upon them; in that attitude he remained silent. I was the first who spoke-
'Omi, why do you stay with a boy whom everybody believes to be a liar?'
'Everybody, Ran? Why, there are only eighty people who have heard you called so, and the world contains hundreds of millions.'
'But what have I to do with millions? The eighty, I know, despise me.'
'Ran, you are mistaken: probably not one in the school either despises or dislikes you: many, I am sure, pity you much.'
'How can they pity me after what Mr. Brocklehurst has said? I do not wish their pity.'
'Mr. Brocklehurst is not a god: nor is he even a great and admired man; he is little liked here; he never took steps to make himself liked. Had he treated you as an especial favourite, you would have found enemies, declared or covert, all around you; as it is, the greater number would offer you sympathy if they dared. Teachers and pupils may look coldly on you for a day or two, but friendly feelings are concealed in their hearts; and if you persevere in doing well, these feelings will ere long appear so much the more evidently for their temporary suppression. Besides, Ran'- he paused.
'Well, Omi?' said he, putting his hand into mine: I chafed my fingers gently to warm them, as he went on-
'If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.'
I was silent; Omi had calmed me; but in the tranquillity he imparted there was an alloy of inexpressible sadness. I felt the impression of woe as he spoke, but I could not tell whence it came; and when, having done speaking, he breathed a little fast and coughed a short cough, I momentarily forgot my own sorrows to yield to a vague concern for him.
Resting his head on my shoulder, I put my arms round his waist; he drew me to him, and we reposed in silence. We had not sat long thus, when another person came in. Some heavy clouds, swept from the sky by a rising wind, had left the moon bare; and her light, streaming in through a window near, shone full both on us and on the approaching figure, which we at once recognised as Miss Temple.
'I came on purpose to find you, Ran,' said she; 'I want you in my room; and as Omi is with you, he may come too.'
We went; following the superintendent's guidance, we had to thread some intricate passages, and mount a staircase before we reached her apartment; it contained a good fire, and looked cheerful. Miss Temple told Omi to be seated in a low arm-chair on one side of the hearth, and herself taking another, she called me to her side.
'Is it all over?' she asked, looking down at my face. 'Have you cried your grief away?'
'Yes, I shall never cry again.'
'Why?'
'Because it is a waste of time.’
‘Don’t say such things. Life is full of obstacles and the only way to ease some discomfort is to cry your sorrows away.’
I did not agree with her, but seeing as she awaited my response I agreed to avoid further censure. “ I shall try Madame.”
'Good,' said she, passing her arm round me. 'And now tell me who is the lady whom Mr. Brocklehurst called your benefactress?'
'Mrs. Byron, my uncle's wife. My uncle is dead, and he left me to her care.'
'Did she not, then, adopt you of her own accord?'
'No, ma'am; she was sorry to have to do it: but my uncle, as I have often heard the servants say, got her to promise before he died that she would always keep me.'
'Well now, Ran, you know, or at least I will tell you, that when a criminal is accused, he is always allowed to speak in his own defence. You have been charged with falsehood; defend yourself to me as well as you can. Say whatever your memory suggests as true; but add nothing and exaggerate nothing.'
I resolved, in the depth of my heart, that I would be most moderate- most correct; and, having reflected a few minutes in order to arrange coherently what I had to say, I told her all the story of my childhood. Thus restrained and simplified, it sounded more credible: I felt as I went on that Miss Temple fully believed me.
In the course of the tale I had mentioned Mr. Roberts as having come to see me after the fit: for I never forgot the, to me, frightful episode of the red-room: in detailing which, my excitement was sure, in some degree, to break bounds; for nothing could soften in my recollection the spasm of agony which clutched my heart when Mrs. Byron spurned my wild supplication for pardon, and locked me a second time in the dark and haunted chamber.
I had finished: Miss Temple regarded me a few minutes in silence; she then said-
'I know something of Mr. Roberts; I shall write to him; if his reply agrees with your statement, you shall be publicly cleared from every imputation; to me, Ran, you are clear now.'
She kissed me, and still keeping me at her side, she proceeded to address Omi.
'How are you to-night, Omi? Have you coughed much to-day?'
'Not quite so much, I think, ma'am.'
'And the pain in your chest?'
'It is a little better.'
Miss Temple got up, took his hand and examined his pulse; then she returned to her own seat: as she resumed it, I heard her sigh low. She was pensive a few minutes, then rousing herself, she said cheerfully-
'But you two are my visitors to-night; I must treat you as such.' She rang her bell.
'Barbara,' she said to the servant who answered it, 'I have not yet had tea; bring the tray and place cups for these two young boys.'
'Barbara,' said she, 'can you not bring a little more bread and butter? There is not enough for three.'
Barbara went out: she returned soon-
'Madam, Mrs. Harden says she has sent up the usual quantity.'
Mrs. Harden, be it observed, was the housekeeper: a woman after Mr. Brocklehurst's own heart, made up of equal parts of whalebone and iron.
'Oh, very well!' returned Miss Temple; 'we must make it do, Barbara, I suppose.' And as the girl withdrew she added, smiling, 'Fortunately, I have it in my power to supply deficiencies for this once.'
Having invited Omi and me to approach the table, and placed before each of us a cup of tea with one delicious but thin morsel of toast, she got up, unlocked a drawer, and taking from it a parcel wrapped in paper, disclosed presently to our eyes a good-sized seed-cake.
'I meant to give each of you some of this to take with you,' said she, 'but as there is so little toast, you must have it now,' and she proceeded to cut slices with a generous hand.
We feasted that evening as on nectar and ambrosia; and not the least delight of the entertainment was the smile of gratification with which our hostess regarded us, as we satisfied our famished appetites on the delicate fare she liberally supplied.
Tea over and the tray removed, she again summoned us to the fire; we sat one on each side of her, and now a conversation followed between her and Omi, which it was indeed a privilege to be admitted to hear.
Miss Temple had always something of serenity in her air, of state in her mien, of refined propriety in her language, which precluded deviation into the ardent, the excited, the eager: something which chastened the pleasure of those who looked on her and listened to her, by a controlling sense of awe; and such was my feeling now: but as to Omi, I was struck with wonder.
The refreshing meal, the brilliant fire, the presence and kindness of his beloved instructress, or, perhaps, more than all these, something in his own unique mind, had roused his powers within him. They woke, they kindled: first, they glowed in the bright tint of his cheek, which till this hour I had never seen but pale and bloodless. Then his soul sat on his lips, and language flowed, from what source I cannot tell. Has a boy of eight a heart large enough, vigorous enough, to hold the swelling spring of pure, full, fervid eloquence? Such was the characteristic of Omi's discourse on that, to me, memorable evening; his spirit seemed hastening to live within a very brief span as much as many live during a protracted existence.
They conversed of things I had never heard of; of nations and times past; of countries far away; of secrets of nature discovered or guessed at: they spoke of books: how many they had read! What stores of knowledge they possessed! Then they seemed so familiar with French names and French authors: but my amazement reached its climax when Miss Temple asked Omi if he sometimes snatched a moment to recall the Latin his father had taught him, and taking a book from a shelf, bade him read and construe a page of Virgil; and Omi obeyed, my organ of veneration expanding at every sounding line. He had scarcely finished ere the bell announced bedtime! no delay could be admitted; Miss Temple embraced us both, saying, as she drew us to her heart-
'God bless you, my children!'
Omi she held a little longer than me: she let him go more reluctantly; it was Omi her eye followed to the door; it was for him she a second time breathed a sad sigh; for him she wiped a tear from her cheek.
On reaching the bedroom, we heard the voice of Mr. Scatcherd: he was examining drawers; he had just pulled out Omi's, and when we entered Omi was greeted with a sharp reprimand, and told that to-morrow he should have half a dozen of untidily folded articles pinned to his shoulder.
'My things were indeed in shameful disorder,' murmured Omi to me, in a low voice: 'I intended to have arranged them, but I forgot.'
Next morning, Mr. Scatcherd wrote in conspicuous characters on a piece of pasteboard the word 'Slattern,' and bound it like a phylactery round Omi's large, mild, intelligent, and benign-looking forehead. He wore it till evening, patient, unresentful, regarding it as a deserved punishment.
About a week subsequently to the incidents above narrated, Miss Temple, who had written to Mr. Roberts, received his answer: it appeared that what he said went to corroborate my account. Miss Temple, having assembled the whole school, announced that inquiry had been made into the charges alleged against Ran Fujimiya, and that she was most happy to be able to pronounce him completely cleared from every imputation.
I from that hour set to work afresh, resolved to pioneer my way through every difficulty: I toiled hard, and my success was proportionate to my efforts; my memory, not naturally tenacious, improved with practice; exercise sharpened my wits; in a few weeks I was promoted to a higher class; in less than two months I was allowed to commence fencing, French and drawing. I learned the first two tenses of the verb Etre, and practiced fencing on that same day.
Thinking back on my life before that; I would not now have exchanged Lowood with all its privations for Gateshead and its daily luxuries.
BUT the privations, or rather the hardships, of Lowood lessened. Spring drew on: she was indeed already come; the frosts of winter had ceased; its snows were melted, its cutting winds ameliorated. My wretched feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp air of January, began to heal and subside under the gentler breathings of April; the nights and mornings no longer by their Canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins; we could now endure the play-hour passed in the garden: sometimes on a sunny day it began even to be pleasant and genial, and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. Flowers peeped out amongst the leaves; snowdrops, crocuses, purple auriculas, and golden-eyed pansies. On Thursday afternoons (half-holidays) we now took walks, and found still sweeter flowers opening by the wayside, under the hedges.
I discovered, too, that a great pleasure, an enjoyment which the horizon only bounded, lay all outside the high and spike-guarded walls of our garden: this pleasure consisted in prospect of noble summits girdling a great hill-hollow, rich in verdure and shadow; in a bright beck, full of dark stones and sparkling eddies. How different had this scene looked when I viewed it laid out beneath the iron sky of winter, stiffened in frost, shrouded with snow!- when mists as chill as death wandered to the impulse of east winds along those purple peaks, and rolled down 'ing' and holm till they blended with the frozen fog of the beck! That beck itself was then a torrent, turbid and curbless: it tore asunder the wood, and sent a raving sound through the air, often thickened with wild rain or whirling sleet; and for the forest on its banks, that showed only ranks of skeletons.
April advanced to May: a bright, serene May it was; days of blue sky, placid sunshine, and soft western or southern gales filled up its duration. And now vegetation matured with vigour; Lowood shook loose its tresses; it became all green, all flowery; its great elm, ash, and oak skeletons were restored to majestic life; woodland plants sprang up profusely in its recesses; unnumbered varieties of moss filled its hollows, and it made a strange ground-sunshine out of the wealth of its wild primrose plants: I have seen their pale gold gleam in overshadowed spots like scatterings of the sweetest lustre. All this I enjoyed often and fully, free, unwatched, and almost alone: for this unwonted liberty and pleasure there was a cause, to which it now becomes my task to advert.
Have I not described a pleasant site for a dwelling, when I speak of it as bosomed in hill and wood, and rising from the verge of a stream? Assuredly, pleasant enough: but whether healthy or not is another question.
That forest-dell, where Lowood lay, was the cradle of fog and fog-bred pestilence; which, quickening with the quickening spring, crept into the Orphan Asylum, breathed typhus through its crowded schoolroom and dormitory, and, ere May arrived, transformed the seminary into an hospital.
Semi-starvation and neglected colds had predisposed most of the pupils to receive infection: forty-five out of the eighty boys lay ill at one time. Classes were broken up, rules relaxed. The few who continued well were allowed almost unlimited license; because the medical attendant insisted on the necessity of frequent exercise to keep them in health: and had it been otherwise, no one had leisure to watch or restrain them. Miss Temple's whole attention was absorbed by the patients: she lived in the sick-room, never quitting it except to snatch a few hours' rest at night. The teachers were fully occupied with packing up and making other necessary preparations for the departure of those boys who were fortunate enough to have friends and relations able and willing to remove them from the seat of contagion. Many, already smitten, went home only to die: some died at the school, and were buried quietly and quickly, the nature of the malady forbidding delay.
While disease had thus become an inhabitant of Lowood, and death its frequent visitor; while there was gloom and fear within its walls; while its rooms and passages steamed with hospital smells, the drug and the pastille striving vainly to overcome the effluvia of mortality, that bright May shone unclouded over the bold hills and beautiful woodland out of doors. Its garden, too, glowed with flowers: hollyhocks had sprung up tall as trees, lilies had opened, tulips and roses were in bloom; the borders of the little beds were gay with pink thrift and crimson double daisies; the sweetbriars gave out, morning and evening, their scent of spice and apples; and these fragrant treasures were all useless for most of the inmates of Lowood, except to furnish now and then a handful of herbs and blossoms to put in a coffin.
But I, and the rest who continued well, enjoyed fully the beauties of the scene and season; they let us ramble in the wood, like gipsies, from morning till night; we did what we liked, went where we liked: we lived better too. Mr. Brocklehurst and his family never came near Lowood now: household matters were not scrutinised into; the cross housekeeper was gone, driven away by the fear of infection; her successor, who had been matron at the Lowton Dispensary, unused to the ways of her new abode, provided with comparative liberality. Besides, there were fewer to feed; the sick could eat little; our breakfast-basins were better filled; when there was no time to prepare a regular dinner, which often happened, she would give us a large piece of cold pie, or a thick slice of bread and cheese, and this we carried away with us to the wood, where we each chose the spot we liked best, and dined sumptuously.
My favourite seat was a smooth and broad stone, rising white and dry from the very middle of the beck, and only to be got at by wading through the water; a feat I accomplished barefoot. The stone was just broad enough to accommodate, comfortably, another boy and me, but I preferred the solitude the place provided while I was alone.
And where, meantime, was Omi Tsukiyono? Why did I not spend these sweet days of liberty with him? Had I forgotten him? or was I so worthless as to have grown tired of his pure society? Though I am a defective being, with many faults and few redeeming points, yet I never tired of Omi; nor ever ceased to cherish for him a sentiment of attachment, as strong, tender, and respectful as any that ever animated my heart. How could it be otherwise, when Omi, at all times and under all circumstances, evinced for me a quiet and faithful friendship, which ill-humour never soured, nor irritation never troubled? But Omi was ill at present: for some weeks he had been removed from my sight to I knew not what room upstairs. He was not, I was told, in the hospital portion of the house with the fever patients; for his complaint was consumption, not typhus: and by consumption I, in my ignorance, understood something mild, which time and care would be sure to alleviate.
I was confirmed in this idea by the fact of his once or twice coming downstairs on very warm sunny afternoons, and being taken by Miss Temple into the garden; but, on these occasions, I was not allowed to go and speak to him; I only saw him from the schoolroom window, and then not distinctly; for he was much wrapped up, and sat at a distance under the verandah.
One evening, in the beginning of June, I had stayed out very late in the wood; I had, as usual, separated myself from the others, and had wandered far; so far that I lost my way, and had to ask it at a lonely cottage, where a man and woman lived, who looked after a herd of half-wild swine that fed on the mast in the wood. When I got back, it was after moonrise: a pony, which I knew to be the surgeon's, was standing at the garden door. I supposed some one must be very ill, as Mr. Bates had been sent for at that time of the evening. I stayed a few minutes to plant in my garden a handful of roots I had dug up in the forest, and which I feared would wither if I left them till the morning. This done, I lingered yet a little longer: the flowers smelt so sweet as the dew fell; it was such a pleasant evening, so serene, so warm; the still glowing west promised so fairly another fine day on the morrow; the moon rose with such majesty in the grave east. I was noting these things and enjoying them as a child might, when it entered my mind as it had never done before:-
'How sad to be lying now on a sick bed, and to be in danger of dying! This world is pleasant- it would be dreary to be called from it, and to have to go who knows where?'
And then my mind made its first earnest effort to comprehend what had been infused into it concerning heaven and hell; and for the first time it recoiled, baffled; and for the first time glancing behind, on each side, and before it, it saw all round an unfathomed gulf: it felt the one point where it stood- the present; all the rest was formless cloud and vacant depth; and it shuddered at the thought of tottering, and plunging amid that chaos. While pondering this new idea, I heard the front door open; Mr. Bates came out, and with him was a nurse. After she had seen him mount his horse and depart, she was about to close the door, but I ran up to her.
'How is Omi Tsukiyono?'
'Very poorly,' was the answer.
'Is it him Mr. Bates has been to see?'
'Yes.'
'And what does he say about him?'
'He says he'll not be here long.'
This phrase, uttered in my hearing yesterday, would have only conveyed the notion that he was about to be removed to Northumberland, to his own home. I should not have suspected that it meant he was dying; but I knew instantly now! It opened clear on my comprehension that Omi was numbering his last days in this world, and that he was going to be taken to the region of spirits, if such region there were. I experienced a shock of horror, then a strong thrill of grief, then a desire- a necessity to see him; and I asked in what room he lay.
'He is in Miss Temple's room,' said the nurse.
'May I go up and speak to him?'
'Oh no, child! It is not likely; and now it is time for you to come in; you'll catch the fever if you stop out when the dew is falling.'
The nurse closed the front door; I went in by the side entrance which led to the schoolroom: I was just in time; it was nine o'clock, and Mr. Thomas was calling the pupils to go to bed.
It might be two hours later, probably near eleven, when I- not having been able to fall asleep, and deeming, from the perfect silence of the dormitory, that my companions were all wrapt in profound repose- rose softly, put on my robe over my night-clothes, and, without shoes, crept from the apartment, and set off in quest of Miss Temple's room. It was quite at the other end of the house; but I knew my way; and the light of the unclouded summer moon, entering here and there at passage windows, enabled me to find it without difficulty. An odour of camphor and burnt vinegar warned me when I came near the fever room: and I passed its door quickly, fearful lest the nurse who sat up all night should hear me. I dreaded being discovered and sent back; for I must see Omi,- I must embrace him before he died,- I must give him one last kiss, exchange with him one last word.
Having descended a staircase, traversed a portion of the house below, and succeeded in opening and shutting, without noise, two doors, I reached another flight of steps; these I mounted, and then just opposite to me was Miss Temple's room. A light shone through the keyhole and from under the door; a profound stillness pervaded the vicinity. Coming near, I found the door slightly ajar; probably to admit some fresh air into the close abode of sickness. Indisposed to hesitate, and full of impatient impulses- soul and senses quivering with keen throes- I put it back and looked in. My eye sought Omi, and feared to find death.
Close by Miss Temple's bed, and half covered with its white curtains, there stood a little crib. I saw the outline of a form under the clothes, but the face was hid by the hangings: the nurse I had spoken to in the garden sat in an easy-chair asleep; an unsnuffed candle burnt dimly on the table. Miss Temple was not to be seen: I knew afterwards that she had been called to a delirious patient in the fever-room. I advanced; then paused by the crib side: my hand was on the curtain, but I preferred speaking before I withdrew it. I still recoiled at the dread of seeing a corpse.
'Omi!' I whispered softly, 'are you awake?'
He stirred himself, put back the curtain, and I saw heisface, pale, wasted, but quite composed: he looked so little changed that my fear was instantly dissipated.
'Can it be you, Ran?' he asked, in his own gentle voice.
'Oh!' I thought, 'he is not going to die; they are mistaken: he could not speak and look so calmly if he were.'
I got on to his crib and kissed him: his forehead was cold, and his cheek both cold and thin, and so were hishand and wrist; but he smiled as of old.
'Why are you come here, Ran? It is past eleven o'clock: I heard it strike some minutes since.'
'I came to see you, Omi: I heard you were very ill, and I could not sleep till I had spoken to you.'
'You came to bid me good-bye, then: you are just in time probably.'
I lowered my eyes to my hands that laid on my lap. ‘Are you going home, Omi?'
'Yes; to my long home- my last home.'
'No, no, Omi!' I stopped, distressed. While I tried to devour my tears, a fit of coughing seized Omi; it did not, however, wake the nurse; when it was over, he lay some minutes exhausted; then he whispered-
'Ran, your little feet are bare; lie down and cover yourself with my quilt.'
I did so: he put her arm over me, and I nestled close to him. After a long silence, he resumed, still whispering-
'I am very happy, Ran; and when you hear that I am dead, you must be sure and not grieve: there is nothing to grieve about. We all must die one day, and the illness which is removing me is not painful; it is gentle and gradual: my mind is at rest. I leave no one to regret me much: I have only a father; and he is lately married, and will not miss me. By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings. I had not qualities or talents to make my way very well in the world: I should have been continually at fault.'
'But where are you going to, Omi? Can you see? Do you know?'
'I believe; I have faith: I am going to God.'
'Where is God? What is God?'
'My Maker and yours, who will never destroy what He created. I rely implicitly on His power, and confide wholly in His goodness: I count the hours till that eventful one arrives which shall restore me to Him, reveal Him to me.'
'You are sure, then, Omi, that there is such a place as heaven, and that our souls can get to it when we die?'
'I am sure there is a future state; I believe God is good; I can resign my immortal part to Him without any misgiving. God is my father; God is my friend: I love Him; I believe He loves me.'
'And shall I see you again, Omi, when I die?'
'You will come to the same region of happiness: be received by the same mighty, universal Parent, no doubt, dear Ran.'
Again I questioned, but this time only in thought. 'Where is that region? Does it exist?' And I clasped my arms closer around Omi; he seemed dearer to me than ever; I felt as if I could not let him go; I lay with my face hidden on his neck. Presently he said, in the sweetest tone-
'How comfortable I am! That last fit of coughing has tired me a little; I feel as if I could sleep: but don't leave me, Ran; I like to have you near me.'
'I'll stay with you, dear Omi: no one shall take me away.'
'Are you warm, darling?'
'Yes.'
'Good-night, Ran.'
'Good-night, Omi.'
He kissed me, and I him, and I would later realize that he was my first kiss, my first love. The first person I had ever loved. Afterwards we both soon slumbered.
When I awoke it was day: an unusual movement roused me; I looked up; I was in somebody's arms; the nurse held me; she was carrying me through the passage back to the dormitory. I was not reprimanded for leaving my bed; people had something else to think about; no explanation was afforded then to my many questions; but a day or two afterwards I learned that Miss Temple, on returning to her own room at dawn, had found me laid in the little crib; my face against Omi's shoulder, my arms round his neck. I was asleep, and Omi was- dead.
His grave is in Brocklebridge churchyard: for fifteen years after his death it was only covered by a grassy mound; but now a grey marble tablet marks the spot, inscribed with his name, and the word 'Resurgam.'
TBC