Chapter Two: Beautiful Day
Subaru woke up promptly at seven o’clock without the aid of an alarm. It wasn’t because he was in the habit of waking at seven o’clock, or because he needed to be awake. It was simply because he’d had so much trouble sleeping lately that he almost never slept for more than three hours at a time. He had been up late -- far later than his new roommate, whom Subaru had seen asleep on the couch when he’d gone to the kitchen for a glass of water around three in the morning.
These days, going to bed around four or five in the morning wasn’t unusual for him. He’d worked up an odd, but doable, schedule. Go to bed around dawn. Sleep for a few hours, four at most. Get up, have breakfast, leave the apartment. Do any and all research that needed to be done for whatever his latest job was. That usually involved a lot of reading, phone calls, and occasional spying. Subaru had realized early on that he’d been totally unaware of what Seishirou’s job actually involved. Killing random strangers was the least of it. The government supplied him with jobs, and they were never kind enough to just tell him who to kill -- it was always much more complicated than that.
After researching, and any other work he had to do with his day, he came home and went back to bed. He napped in the afternoon, then ate dinner and spent the evening ‘tending’ to the Tree and to the job he had spent the morning arranging. Then he went home, cleaned up around the house, read, whatever he could use to distract himself until he finally exhausted himself and collapsed into bed for another few hours of sleep.
He never felt tired. This wasn’t because he wasn’t tired; it was simply because his weariness had progressed to the point that he had stopped noticing it.
So when he woke up at seven in the morning, he felt just as alert as when he’d gone to bed at four thirty. Being tired just didn’t matter anymore. He always showered at night; mostly because he had usually gotten home from killing someone and had blood to clean off. Therefore, his morning ritual was brief. Climb out of bed. Get dressed. At least, he reflected wryly as he zipped up his shirt, he hadn’t started wearing Seishirou’s clothes. That would have been supremely pathetic.
He kissed his framed picture of Seishirou and let his fingers trail over it for a second, before going out to the kitchen. Eating was something he did on pure instinct. He never felt hungry, nor did he ever have any real desire to eat. But he knew on an intellectual level that if he did not eat, he would die. That was something that, while part of him wished for it dearly, he would not allow himself.
Death, it seemed, was too good for him. He had spent nine years trying to get Seishirou to kill him -- to convince Seishirou that he was worth killing -- but in the end it hadn’t worked. Seishirou went to the peace of darkness, and Subaru was left behind to take his place.
Kamui was still asleep on the couch, curled up into a ball with the blankets tucked tightly around his chin. His sleeping face was frowning and he shifted restlessly as Subaru watched. He didn’t know why; the couch was quite comfortable. All of Seishirou’s furniture was designer quality. Nothing but the best for him. Subaru had been somewhat surprised at the sparseness of the apartment, the first time he’d been in inside. But still, Seishirou was classy enough to recognize the value of austerity. The huge entertainment system, Subaru supposed, was simply to keep him amused.
Seishirou was very big on being amused.
It reminded Subaru, in an odd way, of Fuuma. Or, more accurately, Fuuma reminded him of Seishirou. He always had to be amused. Fuuma had also found Subaru quite amusing. Subaru assumed he would have found it rather infuriating, if he’d been able to muster the energy it took to care.
There was one basic difference between Fuuma and Seishirou. Seishirou had class. Fuuma . . . had style. It was a very subtle difference, but definite enough.
Subaru checked the fax machine. The government most likely knew of Seishirou’s death, but they kept sending faxes here as though it had never happened. Since Subaru was there to receive them, it didn’t matter. Subaru made a mental note to tell Kamui later to never touch the fax machine either.
He wandered into the kitchen to make himself tea and rice, wondering what on earth had possessed him to allow Kamui to move in with him. It wasn’t pity; he felt precious little of that for anyone. Kamui presumably deserved a lot of pity, given the shape and situation he was in, but Subaru couldn’t manage to feel it. So why had he let Kamui come?
Part of it, he knew, was that he simply didn’t have the energy to argue with the boy. Kamui could be quite stubborn when he put his mind to it, and this was obviously one of those times. By letting him think he’d scored a victory, he might back off for a while. And perhaps it would be interesting, letting Kamui stay with him. If nothing else, it might give him something to keep himself occupied with.
But he had no plans on talking to Kamui anytime soon. He had to make it perfectly obviously that Kamui was staying in the apartment because he wanted to -- certainly not because Subaru wanted him to be there. If Kamui could stick it out for a week or so, maybe he would reconsider.
Just because there was nothing in the fax machine didn’t mean there was nothing to do. Subaru was used to the staggering of orders. He could get up to three or four in a day, then nothing for a week. Everything was given a priority number, so he knew which jobs were most urgent and which could wait. He hated the days he had nothing to do. He had a tendency to spend them sitting under the sakura and staring at nothing.
The first time he had killed, he had spent three days in bed, sick to his stomach. He had thought he would never be able to cope, yet he had. He had gotten used to it. He would never come to enjoy it, the way Seishirou apparently had, but anything that filled his empty days was something he looked forward to.
Besides, the people he was murdering deserved it. That was part of why he did research, even if none was needed. Some of the people he’d killed gave him chills. Not all of them, certainly -- some had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and were totally innocent. But he couldn’t pick his jobs, and he found that knowing who the wrongdoers were made them easier to kill. And if it made the occasional person harder to kill, that was something he could live with.
It wasn’t as if he had a choice in the matter, after all.
Though that, at least, was totally untrue.
// “It’s up to you whether or not you accept the position of Sakurazukamori, and Dragon of Earth. You can, of course, deny his Wish. It’s entirely up to you.” //
Then again, how much of Subaru’s destiny had ever been left up to him?
// “Decision time, Subaru.” //
His falling in love with Seishirou had been a slow, gradual process, none of this love at first sight crap that people were always going on about. And thus it had been much deeper than a simple infatuation or crush. He had loved Seishirou with all his heart and soul, and consequently it was his entire heart and soul he had lost at Seishirou’s betrayal.
Though that was not what had broken him. Perhaps it was only his heart he had lost when he was sixteen. And even that he’d thought he could heal -- Kamui had been doing a lot to help that process. Subaru hadn’t loved him, but he had liked him well enough, and with enough time he might have been able to learn to love Kamui.
Then Seishirou had died, taking Subaru’s soul with him.
It would have been easy to join Seishirou in death. Too easy. So Subaru did not. He stayed alive to serve his own strange penance for what had happened. He knew Kamui was going to attempt to convince him that no penance was required, but Kamui understood very little of what had happened between Subaru and Seishirou. He only knew that he loved Subaru, and was therefore of the opinion that Subaru could do no wrong.
If only he knew, Subaru reflected wryly as he ate his breakfast.
Seishirou’s death was his fault, after all. He had killed him. Perhaps not intentionally, but he had still killed him. And he deserved this penance. He had been weak, he had been unable to stop loving Seishirou. Unable to do many things.
He finished his food, cleaned out the dishes, and left the apartment.
He had work to do.
~~~~
Daytime television, Seishirou decided, was really complete crap. It was really too bad he had nothing else to do. No one to talk to. Nothing to read. He’d had some physical therapy that morning, which had involved mostly sitting up. He felt rather disgusted with himself.
“Sakurazuka-san?” Minako asked, sticking her head into the room. She smiled as he looked up. “I brought you something.”
“Oh?” Seishirou asked, picking up the remote and turning the television off gratefully.
“Aa.” Minako held something out to him. “It’s today’s paper. You looked excruciatingly bored.”
“You’re a lifesaver in more ways than one,” Seishirou said thankfully, accepting it. The headline had something about the latest series of earthquakes. “What’s all this about earthquakes?”
“Oh, there was a big string of them the other day,” Minako said, leaning over to check on Seishirou’s pulse and blood pressure the way she always did. “The day before you woke up, actually. Part of Tokyo Tower actually collapsed, if you can believe that!” She tsked and shook her head. “A lot of people were killed in the explosion; we’ve got quite a few patients here because of it. They only finished digging out the wreckage the other day.”
Seishirou wasn’t particularly surprised that part of Tokyo Tower had been destroyed. A battle of the magnitude that had obviously taken place there was bound to do a lot of damage, and even the best kekkai couldn’t hold in everything.
“When do I get solid food?” he asked.
Minako looked startled, and Seishirou kicked himself as he realized he had just totally dismissed an event that most people would consider remarkable. He obviously wasn’t working on full brain power. Minako recovered quickly, however, and said, “Kanahashi-sensei said you would probably be able to take some soft food tonight,” she said.
“Good,” Seishirou said. “Another one of those milkshakes and I might go crazy.”
She smiled. “They’re nutritious, you know.”
“Exactly.” He sighed. “And I. Want. A cigarette.”
Minako wrinkled her nose. “You know, smoking is a disgusting habit.”
Seishirou half-smiled, remembering all the times he’d heard those very words from Hokuto’s lips. She didn’t seem to realize he would never live long enough to develop lung cancer or any of the other less pleasant things that went along with smoking. Then he wrenched himself back to the present. “I’m fully aware of that fact, and I still want a cigarette. I suppose I can’t smoke in here?”
“No,” Minako said. “Though I suppose I could take you outside a bit.” She gave him a stern look. “But you can only have one a day.”
“One is plenty,” Seishirou said. “There should be a pack in my jacket pocket. You have time to take me outside?”
“There aren’t many patients in the physical therapy ward right now,” Minako said with a shrug. “And it’s a quiet time of day. You won’t be able to dawdle. Hold on a minute while I get a wheelchair.”
Seishirou allowed Minako to fuss over him and get him put in a wheelchair, tucking a blanket around his legs. He felt disgustingly like an invalid, and hated it. At least, however, he was getting his cigarette.
She took him in the elevator and down to the first floor, at which point she wheeled him outside, into the garden. Then she heard some sort of page, apologized, and hurried off with the promise that she would be back soon. Seishirou gratefully lit up a cigarette and smoked it pensively. So humanity had continued to exist. Most likely ensuring the eventual destruction of the environment. Then again, he’d never been in this battle for that reason. In fact, only Kusanagi had.
Seishirou spared a moment to wonder what had happened to all his fellow Angels. Fuuma was almost certainly dead, given that the world hadn’t ended, but there was no reason that the rest of the Angels would have gone with him. Well, some of the more zealous probably would’ve been dealt with, Satsuki and Nataku almost surely among them. But no one else had been actively destroying kekkai, so it was possible they were still alive.
It was an odd feeling, to consider that he alone might have survived. Though at the moment, he was beginning to question why that was. Subaru’s aim being off didn’t seem like a good enough reason; Hokuto’s spell should have guided his hand to Seishirou’s heart without any consideration for his thought.
The only reason that Seishirou could come up with was that his own aim had been slightly off. It rather disturbed him. Then again, in retrospect, he wasn’t quite sure of what he’d been doing at all. He had known he was going to die. He had planned it from the moment he’d gotten up, even going so far as to take the keys to his apartment and put them in the mail. They had probably reached Subaru a few days after what had happened.
He had wanted Subaru to kill him, because it was a beautiful thing, to be killed by the one who truly loves you.
He was starting to realize, rather guiltily, that he had never given a second thought to what Subaru might want. Because Subaru didn’t matter, after all. He was just the toy to be played with. And when he’d tired of the toy, tired of life in general, he had used Subaru to result in his own death.
Yet that death had been denied.
One might almost, Seishirou mused as he smoked his cigarette as slowly as possible, take it as a sign from fate. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to die after all. He wanted to know what had become of Subaru, but currently had no way of finding out. Without his close bond with the Tree, he couldn’t use its information the way he’d always been able to before, and as he was no longer Sakurazukamori, the bond he had held with Subaru was no longer active. But he could feel, if nothing else, that the Tree was healthy and pleased. Either Subaru was not neglecting his new duties, or he had been killed and replaced.
The inactivity was already chafing at Seishirou, and he had been awake for less than a full day. He didn’t know how he was supposed to react to being alive when he had expected -- when he had wanted -- to die. It hadn’t been the suicide of a depressed man, or an insane one. Simply a bored one, who knew when his time was through.
To have that time suddenly extended was quite unnerving.
He scowled, blowing out smoke. His mind was running in circles. He had no new information to process, and so he was wearing ruts in his brain going over the same things over and over again.
Being Sakurazukamori didn’t make one emotionless. That was something that the person themself usually built up as a defense mechanism. You couldn’t go around killing people every day if you had a healthy, fully active conscience. So usually, the conscience took a vacation and a lot of the more important emotions -- guilt, regret, anger, sadness -- went with it. The longer you were the Sakurazukamori, the further away those emotions got, the more difficult they were to attain.
Seishirou had loved Subaru. He had been well aware of the fact that he loved Subaru. That meant, for him, that he wanted any number of things; primary among them were sex and his own eventual death at Subaru’s hands. His conscience, currently taking a long nap in somewhere like the Bahamas, hadn’t come back in time to let him know that it might be good to consider what Subaru wanted.
If one was to say that being in love was caring more for the other person’s well-being than your own, then Seishirou was not in love. He didn’t give a damn about Subaru’s well-being. He wanted Subaru to be his, to belong to him, to think about only him. As long as that was true, he was content with their relationship.
Being punched through the chest had given him a spectacularly brief new way of looking at things. In those last few seconds, staring up into Subaru’s tear-filled eyes, he’d had a remarkable epiphany. Of course, he’d never expected it to do him any good, but now here he was. In those last few moments, he’d found himself thinking that perhaps Subaru’s happiness was just a bit more important than his own, and it suddenly occurred to him that if he was going to die, he was damn well going to tell Subaru he loved him first.
Which he’d done.
And then everything had gone black and he had assumed that he had died, only to wake up eight months later wondering what on earth had happened. Apparently, he decided as he sat outside, his conscience had hopped on an express flight back home just before his non-death, thus the reason for his series of epiphanies. Also apparently, it had chosen to stick around, making him even more confused than he would have been otherwise. He felt a vague desire to atone for what he’d done. But really, maybe it would be better to just leave Subaru the hell alone.
The only question was, would that make things better or worse?
He smoked his cigarette right down to the filter while he sat in silence. Then he stubbed it out on a nearby wall and dropped it to the ground. He had no objection at all to waiting while Minako did whatever she had been called to do. It gave him a chance for a second cigarette, but he decided against it; he only had one pack to last him the entire two weeks he was stuck.
He settled instead for wheeling himself around the small courtyard, hoping that he was bringing back his arm strength. All that he really happened was that he got very tired. He finally gave up and sat in the center of the courtyard, staring up at the sky.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” a very familiar drawl said.
Seishirou nearly fell out of his wheelchair. He used one arm to spin himself around to look. It was really Fuuma. Apparently, he wasn’t as dead as Seishirou had thought. He supposed he ought to be used to this, given that he personally wasn’t as dead as he’d thought either.
“Kind of day that makes you regret being stuck in here,” Fuuma continued brightly, sitting on a stone bench across from Seishirou. There were bandages wrapped around his head, but he looked fine other than that.
Seishirou suddenly needed another cigarette, and shook one free. Then he offered the pack to Fuuma. “Like one?”
“You probably shouldn’t be offering cigarettes to teenagers,” Fuuma said, but he took one all the same.
Seishirou frowned. “I think you’ve said that to me before.”
“Have I?” Fuuma asked, looking puzzled. “Quite possible. Do I know you?”
Seishirou felt a migraine coming on. “Last time I checked. Then again, I’ve been in a coma for eight months. Maybe things have changed.”
“I have amnesia,” Fuuma explained. “The only thing I know about myself is my name and age, and those only because they were read to me off my school ID.”
“Ah,” Seishirou said. He cursed inwardly. If that was true, he couldn’t ask Fuuma why the hell he was still alive. Just one more thing he’d have to remain curious about. Seishirou really hated being uninformed. “Well, my name is Sakurazuka Seishirou.”
“Doesn’t ring any bells,” Fuuma said with a shrug. “What’re you in for?”
“Had a hole punched through my chest,” Seishirou said dryly.
“Interesting,” Fuuma said. “I have Tokyo Tower fall on me in the earthquake the other day. They say it’s a miracle I survived.” He paused, looking pensive. “Tell me, do I seem like a miraculous sort of guy to you?”
“Terribly miraculous,” Seishirou said. Fuuma was smoking the cigarette at a rapid pace.
“But I really don’t like not having a memory.” Fuuma frowned. “Oh well, the nurses said it’ll come back if I give it enough time.”
Seishirou wasn’t sure it would. He strongly suspected that whatever generous deity had allowed Fuuma to live might have insisted upon this condition so he didn’t start wreaking havoc again. He shrugged politely.
“Mind if I have another?” Fuuma was reaching for his cigarettes. Seishirou did mind, and he minded quite a bit, but he made a career of never letting people know when he minded something. So he shook his head and offered Fuuma another cigarette, letting Fuuma lean over him to light it.
It was a bit unnerving, having Fuuma that close to him. Seishirou was forcibly reminded that eight months in a coma was not only eight months without cigarettes, it was eight months without sex. Seishirou had never been promiscuous by any means, but needs were needs and he had always seen that his were met. Of course, he’d had Subaru, and the Sumeragi had been an extremely good partner on the occasions that Seishirou had managed to get him into bed. Unfortunately, those occasions had been rare. Most of the time Subaru had been a bit too intent on trying to kill him. Not that this didn’t make the sex interesting, but still . . .
Seishirou shook himself slightly, realizing he was drifting off into a place where his hormones had control. Soaplands were usually enough, but having been presented with Fuuma, he had seen no reason not to take the opportunity. Fuuma was extremely good-looking, if a little too young for Seishirou’s usual tastes, full of energy, and -- Seishirou had noticed after knowing him for about a week -- a complete slut.
All right, perhaps that was a bit unfair. Fuuma was not indiscriminate in his tastes. He flirted with anything on two legs, but when it came to getting serious, he showed a definite leaning towards the ‘pretty uke’ figure. This was where Seishirou figured his obsession with Kamui had come from, aside from the whole destiny thing. He had watched with amusement as Fuuma had tried repeatedly to gain some ground with Kakyou and been turned down over and over again.
And if he had taken advantage of Fuuma’s frustration, well, what of it? After all, Fuuma had been fully aware of what he was doing, and it certainly wasn’t as if it meant more to either of them than casual sex.
So as Fuuma leaned over him to get the cigarette lit, Seishirou felt himself tense a little. Fuuma backed off and gave Seishirou a considering look, as if he knew exactly what Seishirou was thinking. For all Seishirou knew, he did; Fuuma had always been uncanny like that. A second later, his thoughts were confirmed as Fuuma gave him a slow, sexy smile. “So I know you, huh?”
Seishirou didn’t give any sign of his discomfiture at the direction this conversation was taking. “We’ve met.”
“It’s a shame I don’t remember you,” Fuuma said. “How did I know you?”
“We worked together,” Seishirou lied smoothly. No point in bringing up the whole end of the world thing. It was over and done with.
“Yeah?” Fuuma sounded disappointed. “That’s it?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Seishirou said, deliberately leaving the real question unanswered. After all, it wasn’t as if there would be any harm in a further pursued relationship with Fuuma, but he didn’t want to frustrate himself any more than necessary while he still couldn’t even stand up.
“Well,” Fuuma said, “will we still be working together now that I’ve lost my memory?”
Seishirou allowed himself a slight smile. “I’d say it’s definitely possible.”
“Good.” Fuuma yawned and stretched, allowed Seishirou a very nice view of his stomach, as the T-shirt he was wearing was a little too short. Seishirou was fairly certain that Fuuma had done this on purpose. This suspicion was confirmed when Fuuma winked at him and said, “See you around, Seishirou.”
He walked off, leaving Seishirou to stare at the wall, a little confused and very frustrated.
~~~~
Kamui had woken to find the apartment empty and quiet. Still dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before, he had left without eating anything and gone back to where he’d used to live. It had only taken him about fifteen minutes to pack up his clothes and schoolbooks into a backpack and a single box. He hailed a taxi and dropped them back off at Subaru’s apartment, then walked down to CLAMP Campus. It was already noon; too late to bother going to his classes.
Instead, he walked down to Nokoru’s office and asked if he could see him. The secretary knew him by sight and gave him a warm smile, promising him that Nokoru would be with him soon.
He was told he could go in a mere few minutes later. Nokoru, surprising him, gave him a warm embrace. “You did so well,” he said, letting him go. “And you look awful. Have you eaten?”
Kamui managed a head shake, and found himself sitting down a minute later with a huge plate of food. Either he was eating Nokoru’s lunch, or the Chairman had somehow known he was coming. Either was possible with Nokoru, but Kamui certainly wasn’t going to turn his nose up at it.
“How are you?” Nokoru asked, looking at him seriously.
“I’m . . . okay,” Kamui managed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in class -- ”
Nokoru waved off these concerns distractedly. “All your teachers have been told you were injured in the last earthquake and you won’t be in until next week. Don’t worry about that right now; you’ll be able to make up the work.”
Kamui nodded. “Thank you. Ano . . . about the apartment you gave us . . .”
“Too big for one person?” Nokoru asked. “I thought that might be the case. We can get a dorm room for you on -- ”
Kamui cut him off. “There’s no need. I’m living with Subaru for now.”
“Oh,” Nokoru said. “All right. That’s working out?”
“Yeah, seems to be,” Kamui lied easily. “I mean, he’s definitely got his issues, but he doesn’t seem to mind me being there. And I . . . I’d really prefer not to live alone right now.”
“Of course, that’s fine,” Nokoru said with a warm smile. “And you can still get to campus all right?”
“Aa,” Kamui said. “It’s not a far walk, and there’s a bus for the winter.” He paused. “Can you see that everyone else’s belongings make it back to their homes, please?”
Nokoru nodded. “Of course.”
They chatted for a while until Nokoru was satisfied that Kamui had eaten enough lunch, then Kamui left, thinking vaguely of going back to the apartment, taking a shower, and changing into clean clothes. He had a suspicion he’d been wearing the same thing for almost three days.
He walked across campus slowly, kicking at the idle tuft of grass as he passed by. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back, it was just that he still felt somewhat awkward in the apartment, and very awkward around Subaru. Hokuto -- through Kakyou -- had told him to help Subaru, but he didn’t think what he was doing was helping. How on earth was he supposed to talk sense into Subaru if the Sumeragi was intent on ignoring him?
“Shirou-kun!”
Kamui turned slowly, and found, not for the first time in his life, that he was glad to see Keichii. His schoolmate was the one person in his life that he could count on to be cheerful, no matter what the situation. “Ohayo, Segawa-kun,” he said.
“Ohayo?” Keichii grinned, pushing his dark blonde hair out of his eyes. “More like konnichi wa, you know. You haven’t been in class! I heard you were injured in the earthquake. Is it true?” He gave Kamui a sharp look. Kamui knew that Keichii was way smarter than most people gave him credit for. Sooner or later he had been bound to put together that Kamui kept getting injured, no matter where the earthquake was. Kamui had never explained otherwise to him, and now was taken by a wild desire to do so, to spread the entire problem at Keichii’s feet and ask for his advice on ‘helping’ Subaru.
There were three reasons he did not. For one thing, Subaru’s private business was, well, private, and he didn’t think the Sumeragi would appreciate it if he told Keichii. Secondly, Kamui was not used to turning to anyone for help and advice, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into the habit now. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, Kamui hadn’t needed Sorata’s constant teasing to realize that Keichii was a bit smitten with him. Apparently Keichii had a real thing for people in need, for which Kamui definitely qualified. Kamui was loath to explain his romantic problems to someone who had romantic interest in him.
Kamui jumped a little as he realized that Keichii was still waiting patiently for an answer to his question. “A-Aa,” he stammered. “But not badly, for once. I was just here to see Nokoru about the classes I’d missed.”
“Will you be back in class tomorrow?” Keichii asked eagerly.
Kamui shook his head. “Nn. Not ‘til Monday.” He blinked, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I’m on lunch,” Keichii said. “Care to join me?”
“I already ate,” Kamui said, “but I wouldn’t mind the company.”
He spent a rather enjoyable half an hour sitting on the grass with Keichii, talking about nothing of consequence. He was rather amazed and pleased to find that he still could enjoy himself in such small pleasures. It probably helped that the weather was so nice; the warm sun and gentle breeze was rather soothing.
After lunch, he bid Keichii farewell and said he’d see him on Monday. He wanted to give Keichii the phone number, but figured he’d better check with Subaru first.
When he went home, Subaru’s coat and shoes were there, but he was nowhere to be seen. His bedroom door was shut tightly, and Kamui figured that he was occupying himself somehow. He took his shower and changed. Then, with nothing better to do, he sat down at the kitchen table with some of the schoolwork Nokoru had given him and began to work his way through.
Subaru appeared about two hours later, looking slightly mussed; Kamui figured he had been sleeping. He said nothing, simply got himself a mug of tea.
“Should I cook dinner?” Kamui asked, figuring Subaru couldn’t ignore a direct question like that.
“If you want,” Subaru said, picking some papers up off the counter and studying them.
Kamui bit his lip and pulled some things out of the fridge. Subaru’s kitchen was surprisingly well-stocked for someone who didn’t really seem to care about eating. Kamui found enough food to make a basic stir fry, and started chopping vegetables. He purposely made enough for two. About forty minutes later, he put a plate of food down in front of Subaru.
Subaru made a reply so brief that Kamui had to guess that it was probably some variant of ‘thanks.’ He sat down with his own food and found he wasn’t very hungry. “Is it all right if I give Keichii this phone number?” he asked.
“Whatever.” Subaru began to eat in a businesslike manner that suggested he wasn’t even tasting what he was eating.
They sat in silence for a long few minutes. It was starting to drive Kamui crazy. He searched desperately for anything he could say. “Subaru,” he tried.
Subaru didn’t even look up.
“I’m not going to go away,” Kamui said coldly. “So you can stop ignoring me now. It won’t work.”
Subaru shrugged.
“Kakyou told me to help you and I’m damn well going to,” Kamui said. “I can’t lose you like I lost everyone else.” He held back tears. “Like I lost Fuuma.” He paused. “You probably have no idea what happened, do you. Why the hell would you? You ditched us and took off. Fine, I’ll tell you.”
He took a deep breath. “You know how everyone kept asking me if I would let go of my Wish? That was all it was. That Wish that you told me I had every right to keep, every right to hope for, every right to try to bring about. I nearly destroyed humanity with that Wish, you know. Because I wouldn’t listen to anyone. All I wanted was to get Fuuma back.
“But it could never happen. Fuuma was . . .” Kamui swallowed hard. “Fuuma was always like that, deep down inside. He just held it all back, until I became a Dragon of Heaven, and so he had to . . .” He took another deep breath. “But what’s it really matter, anyway? You certainly don’t care.”
Subaru didn’t deny this, sipping at his tea and still looking at the papers.
“Fuuma never had to die. No one was ever sure of that. They just said that I . . . had to win. But I didn’t even have to win over him. I had to win over myself. I had to let Fuuma go. And so everyone told me I had to kill him, because that would be the easiest way of letting him go, right?” Kamui let out a brief laugh, wiping his eyes. “It was much harder this way. I just had to . . . to let him live. To be the way he was, rather than trying to turn him into what I wanted him to be.
“Once I realized that . . . I guess the rest was easy. I Wished for him to be happy as himself. For him to live. And so I . . . I wouldn’t fight him. And Fuuma just gave me this little smile and said he knew I would figure it out if he gave me long enough.”
Kamui was silent for a long time.
“Because, see, I did kill Fuuma that day,” he said softly. “I killed my memory of him.
“And he . . . just . . . walked away.”
Kamui rubbed his eyes a few times.
“But the kekkai was unstable because of the fighting we did before that, and part of it crumbled. Not enough to destroy humanity, just enough to send it crashing down on us. Neither of us really had time to react. I got tossed from out of the wreckage, but he didn’t. So I guess he got killed anyway, after all that.”
Subaru took a long drink of his tea.
“But I guess that’s the point of being a sacrifice for humanity,” Kamui said brightly, to cover the fact that he was on the edge of tears. He grabbed Subaru’s empty plate and his own, then dumped them both in the sink. He picked up a washcloth and scrubbed at them furiously, long after they were clean, so he didn’t have to look at Subaru.
He dried them off and put them back in the cupboard, at this point not bothering to hide the fact that tears were running down his cheeks.
“Look,” he said, finally turning to face Subaru. “I don’t care if you ignore me. I don’t care if you treat me like a God damned maid and cook, because I know if I didn’t cook you’d just make your own food. If you want to pretend I’m not here, fine. I just hope you don’t think that you’ll be able to convince me to leave with this stupid game.”
He stalked back into the living room and flopped onto the sofa, burying his face in the pillow to muffle his tears.
~~~~
Chapter Three
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