Aftermath
By Karasu Yurei and Kouri Arashi
Part Three
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“So what do we tell him?” Sorata shifted nervously from foot to foot. Fuuma had been awake on and off the previous day. Sorata had been in and out, checking on him and quickly leaving the room when Fuuma started asking what had happened.
“The truth seems to be a bad idea,” Arashi answered. She was sitting by Subaru’s bed.
“What did you tell him yesterday?” Subaru asked.
“Nothing. I was far too worried about Kamui to bother dealing with it. As far as he’s concerned, he has no idea what’s going on. He knows Kamui’s here and he knows I’m here, and that’s about it. He has no memory at all of being an evil bastard wreaking havoc around the city.”
Subaru shrugged elegantly. He was waiting for the doctors to tell him he could go, so he could get his trenchcoat back, which he didn’t want to do. “So tell him he disappeared for a few weeks and we’re working on finding out where he was and what happened.”
“That’s a good idea,” Arashi said approvingly.
“What are we going to tell him about Kotori?” Sorata asked.
“Why don’t we tell him that and leave the rest up to Kamui to decide,” Subaru suggested.
Sorata nodded. “Okay. But I don’t know how soon he’s going to be up to coherent though, and Fuuma’s going to start asking for Kotori soon. And he wants to know what happened to Kamui, because when he came back to himself, Kamui was covered in blood and fainted next to him.”
“This could be a problem,” Arashi said.
Subaru thought. “Hit and run?”
Sorata raised an eyebrow. “On top of Tokyo Tower?”
“Oh. I suppose not, then.”
“Plane crash?” Arashi suggested, somehow keeping a perfectly straight face.
Both men looked at her.
“I never knew you had a sense of humor, my dear,” Sorata said.
Arashi shrugged, resisting the temptation to punch Sorata in the stomach.
“We have to tell him something.” Subaru dragged them back on topic.
“Kidnapping?” Arashi suggested.
“That’s not bad,” Sorata said. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll beg off and say that I don’t know exactly what happened to Kamui. Which is technically true anyway, though I can guess.”
Subaru sighed and nodded soberly. “Did you find any sign of the others?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sorata said. “Seiichirou’s in a different hospital across town. The other two . . . Nokoru’s working on it, trying to get the police to release information and stuff.” He sighed heavily. “Seiichirou’s in pretty rough shape. He hasn’t woken up yet.”
Subaru nodded. “Any word of the Angels?”
“We have no idea. We’ve been too busy checking up on our own,” Sorata said.
“All right.” Subaru sighed and raised his bed so he was sitting up more, wondering when the doctor was going to show up and set him free. There was a knock on the door. About time, he reflected irritably, and called, “Come in.”
The door opened and Subaru was severely discomfited to see Seishirou take a few steps inside, taking off his sunglasses and holding them in one hand. “Am I interrupting anything?” he asked smoothly.
Subaru simply stared at him. He could see Sorata tensing next to him, going on the defensive. After a long second, Subaru found words. “How did you find me here?”
“I called the hospitals to see which one you were at.”
“How did you know I would go to a hospital?”
“You were somewhat . . . less than well when you left my apartment.”
“Thanks to you,” Subaru snapped, trying to regain his inner balance. He noticed that his trenchcoat was draped over Seishirou’s arm.
“Apartment?” Sorata asked.
“Yes,” Subaru said through clenched teeth, not seeing the need to elaborate.
Sorata was not about to be put off. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the older man. “Explain.”
“No.” Subaru looked at Seishirou.
“I hardly think it’s any of your business,” Seishirou said to Sorata. He looked at Subaru. “Would you like your coat, Subaru-kun?”
“Yes,” Subaru snapped as Arashi and Sorata both blinked at Seishirou’s affectionate term. “I could have come to get it.” He glared death in Seishirou’s direction.
“I’m sure you could have,” Seishirou said. “But I wasn’t sure you would have. And Heaven forbid I be denied the pleasure of seeing my Subaru-kun.”
Sorata choked. Arashi raised an eyebrow. Subaru turned the color of a tomato.
“Seishirou-san . . .?”
“Nani?”
“I hate you.”
“I’m sure you do, Subaru-kun.” Seishirou hung the trenchcoat in the closet. “Your ofada are in the pockets. You don’t need to check.”
Subaru glared, got out of bed, and checked anyway, more to be contrary than because he actually thought his ofada wouldn’t be there. He managed to walk there fine, pleased with himself. He’d be able to go home. Not that he would; most likely he would be in Kamui’s room for most of the day. He walked back to the bed and sat down. He fixed Seishirou with another glare. “Why didn’t you point out that I’d left this before I made it through the door?”
Seishirou eyed him calmly. “I didn’t notice until later.”
“You’re lying.”
Seishirou shrugged. “So what if I am?”
“You wanted to see me again.” Subaru sounded smug. He couldn’t comprehend why he found this amusing, but it was.
Seishirou smirked. “It’s because you’re so cute, Subaru-kun.”
“We’re gonna go,” Sorata announced loudly. “We’ll leave you two - you two - we’re gonna go. Look for the others. Or something.”
Arashi stood and headed for the door. “We’ll leave you two alone now.”
As they left, Subaru heard Sorata saying, “I knew you had a sense of humor!”
“Quite,” Arashi answered.
Subaru looked nervously at Seishirou as he appropriated Arashi’s chair. He resisted the urge to run. Or hide. Or both. He just couldn’t figure out why his heart was beating so quickly . . . Was it excitement or terror? Then he smirked. “So you must have been having difficulties lately.”
“What makes you say that?”
Subaru studied his fingers, laced together in his lap. “Well, for starters, that you had to call every hospital to find me instead of this . . .” He held his thin hand up in front of Seishirou.
Seishirou inwardly flinched, not giving any sign of it on the outside. “So you heard about the Sakurazuka.”
“You could say that. Having trouble . . . coping?”
“I thought I was doing rather well, myself.”
“Except for the fact that you seemed to be showing concern for your prey. An emotional attachment perhaps?” Subaru was having fun. It was nice to be dishing it out for once, rather than taking it.
“Perhaps,” Seishirou answered neutrally. “May I ask why you care?”
Damn it, Subaru thought. For some reason, he hadn’t been expecting Seishirou to turn the needling back on him. “You can always ask. That doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get an answer.”
“All right then, I’m asking.”
“I find it interesting that you’re off-balance.”
Seishirou raised an eyebrow. “How charming. You gave an answer when you said you wouldn’t, but lied through your teeth.”
“I said I might not. I didn’t lie.”
“It’s just not the whole truth.”
“You can assume that if you want.”
Seishirou fiddled with his sunglasses, then wondered why he was fiddling. He forced his hands to still.
“Nervous, Seishirou-san?” Subaru asked, smiling.
“Of course not,” Seishirou said, a bit too quickly. He made a great show of checking his watch. “Well, look at the time. I must be going, Subaru-kun.”
“Seishirou-san?”
“Nani?”
“That was a stretch.”
“I’m aware of that.” Seishirou turned and left the room.
Subaru let out a gusting sigh of relief, then was somewhat disconcerted that a great part of him was disappointed at Seishirou’s departure. He liked needling the older man. Well, and seeing him. Maybe.
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Yuuto thanked the nurse at the desk and headed for the room she’d said Fuuma was in. He’d left Nataku in his apartment with strict orders not to go anywhere. “I’m going to go find Fuuma,” he promised. He’d set him down in front of some cartoons and given him ice cream. Nataku was astonishingly easy to please. Yuuto assumed it came from living in a tube for so much of his life.
He knocked gently on the door. A slightly rough voice called, “Come in,” so he pushed the door open and went in. He wondered how Fuuma would take the news that, as far as he could tell, the two of them and Nataku were the only ones left.
Fuuma was in bed, with the covers drawn up under his arms. He was pale, but looked okay other than that.
“How are you doing?” Yuuto asked cautiously. “We lost pitifully, you know.”
Fuuma was blinking at him. “Lost what? Do I know you?”
Yuuto stopped in his tracks. That was unexpected. “You should.”
“They told me I have amnesia.” Fuuma waved his hand vaguely to indicate the hospital in general. “I don’t remember the last six weeks or so.”
“Yes, that would make sense,” Yuuto muttered. I guess he’s back to his old self. Hmmm, wonder what they’re going to tell him. What am I going to tell Nataku? Uh oh . . . “Well, my name’s Kigai Yuuto . . .” He tried to think of a way to explain knowing him. “Ah, never mind. Um.”
He was saved when the door, still cracked open, was pushed inward and Seishirou stuck his head in. “Oh, hello,” Yuuto said, brightening at the thought of not being alone with Fuuma anymore. “I didn’t know you were still alive, Seishirou-san.”
“I’m difficult to kill,” Seishirou answered calmly. He looked over at Fuuma.
“Do I know him, too?” Fuuma asked nervously.
Seishirou blinked, raised an eyebrow, and took the easiest path available. “No.” He turned to Yuuto. “May I speak to you outside?”
“Gladly,” Yuuto said. He followed Seishirou outside. “We lost,” he announced.
“I noticed. The others?”
“Nataku is in my apartment. Kakyou is right where Fuuma left him. Someone should go check on him.”
“Didn’t Fuuma promise to kill him?” Seishirou asked.
“Hmm. Yeah. Why don’t you go see him? You know about such things.” Yuuto waved a hand vaguely in the air. “I’m merely a civil servant.”
Seishirou fiddled again, uncomfortable without knowing why at being asked to kill someone. Even someone who wanted to die. “All right.” Who hadn’t Yuuto mentioned? “Satsuki?”
Yuuto shook his head, looking sad. “Died in a battle with Yuzuriha, of all people. Kusanagi’s also gone. Kanoe is still alive . . . somewhere. In case you care. I don’t.”
Seishirou nodded. “What happened to Fuuma?” He was itching for a cigarette.
“He appears to have returned to his former self.”
“Hmm.” Seishirou considered this. “He has no memory of what happened?”
“None.”
“Probably all for the best.”
“What should I tell Nataku?”
Seishirou frowned, then remembered Nataku’s odd attachment to Kamui’s twin star. “The truth?”
“Have you forgotten that, emotionally speaking, Nataku is about five years old? Am I supposed to tell a five year old that his daddy doesn’t remember him?”
Seishirou sighed. “Tell him . . . that his daddy is sick and can’t see him right now. We’ll straighten it out later.”
“All right.”
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Seishirou walked into Kakyou’s room and was greeted with one of his odd Dreamscapes. Kakyou was sitting on a globe-like structure. “I was expecting somebody,” he said.
“Well, Fuuma won’t be coming to grant your Wish,” Seishirou said.
“I know,” Kakyou said. “I’ve been watching. You seem to have taken quite a beating.”
“You could put it that way.”
“If Fuuma’s not coming to kill me, are you?” Kakyou asked bluntly.
Seishirou hesitated, reaching for a cigarette. “Yes.”
“All right.” The Dreamscape abruptly faded and Seishirou was faced with Kakyou’s comatose body. He walked over and knelt beside him. He wouldn’t want to feed Kakyou to the tree, but that wasn’t exactly an issue anymore. He poised his hand over Kakyou’s chest, gathering energy between his fingers, glad he hadn’t lost all his abilities. He paused, took a deep breath, and prepared to shove his hand through Kakyou’s chest.
And stopped.
For a long moment, he argued with himself. Go ahead.
I can’t do it, his otherself, that had appeared with the destruction of the tree, replied.
It’s what he wants, Seishirou’s logical side spoke up.
It doesn’t matter. I can’t.
Why not?
I don’t know. I can’t.
Kakyou’s eyes cracked open and he regarded Seishirou as the energy between his fingers dwindled and disappeared. “Can’t do it?”
Seishirou lowered his hand and said nothing.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to,” Kakyou said. “It was worth a try.”
Seishirou, somewhat bemused, found himself apologizing. “Gomen, I don’t know why . . .”
“It’s called a conscience. You have one now.”
Seishirou fell silent again.
“It’s all right. I understand.” Kakyou gave him a small, sad smile. “If you just leave me here, perhaps no one will come until it’s too late.”
“All right,” Seishirou agreed, and got up to go. He took three steps, then the same impulse which had been nagging him when he’d tried to leave Subaru spoke up again. He stopped and pondered. Having a conscience was turning out to be a decided pain in the ass.
He turned around. “I don’t think I can do that either.”
Kakyou regarded him. “Are you attempting to make up for the last ten years of being a cold-hearted killer by being overly conscientious now?”
“It was longer than ten years,” Seishirou informed him, not flinching. “And possibly, yes.”
He picked Kakyou up.
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