Author’s Notes: X/Yami crossover, yay! By the way, Atropos was one of the Greek fates, the one that cut the strings of life... we’ll make references to it somewhere.
Warnings: Violence, sex, violence, Muraki, blood, angst, feathers, angst, violence, yaoi, Tree-san, OCs, and stabbystabby.
Spoilers: Through the TV series of Yami no Matsuei (not the manga) and basically through X16 though this will go AU. Obviously.
Pairings: Subaru/Seishirou, Subaru/Kamui, Fuuma/Kamui, Kamui/Keiichi, Fuuma/Kakyou, Tsuzuki/Hisoka, Muraki/Tsuzuki... et cetera, damn it.
Disclaimer: We didn’t do it unless you liked it. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. Whereupon the marshmallows will be rubbed into the flamer’s hair. Oh, and the words “let’s just fuck the canon” were spoken. Oh, and we know that we invented Seimei for the IF... but we decided to use him here anyway. Thank you and good evening.
Chapter One
“Let’s refresh everyone’s memory, shall we?” Hisoka asked, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling in a prayer for patience. “The last time you made Tsuzuki be a school nurse in order to go undercover, he nearly poisoned people.”
“I’ll be more careful this time!” Tsuzuki said cheerfully.
Hisoka gave him a suspicious look. “Can’t you just make him a teacher?” he appealed to Konoe. “He could teach . . . history.”
Tsuzuki looked as if he liked this idea, but it was rather quickly shot down. “There are no teaching positions open,” Konoe said, looking somewhat annoyed at having to say this for about the fourth time.
Tsuzuki drooped. “Oh fine . . .”
Tatsumi handed him a little booklet with his patent smile that was only ever directed at Tsuzuki. “Here’s your expense booklet.”
Tsuzuki, if possible, drooped even more. “Tatsumi . . .”
Tatsumi just smiled. Hisoka rolled his eyes. The only thing on earth that Tatsumi protected more fiercely than Tsuzuki was the money he was responsible for. Drooping was useless.
“So let me get this straight,” he said. “Why are we being sent down on this? Usually there have to be two or three mysterious deaths before it becomes our business.” He flipped through the file impassively. She had been cute. You know, before she’d been messily crucified and dismembered. But still, one learned to deal with things like that.
“There have been a number of odd happenings in the Tokyo area,” Konoe replied. “Sudden jumps in magical activity, kekkai being threatened or taken down, et cetera. On top of that, the girl’s brother disappeared the day she was killed.”
Hisoka frowned. “Still, this at least seems to be a matter for the local police. I’ll admit it’s a singularly messy way to go, but that doesn’t mean there was magic involved.”
“There doesn’t need to be,” Konoe pointed out. “Her name was not in the Kiseki, and more importantly, she still hasn’t made her appearance in the afterlife.”
“Oh, fine,” Hisoka grumbled.
Tsuzuki gave him a look. “Would you rather we wait until more people have been killed?” he asked.
Hisoka turned slightly pink. “No, that’s not what I mean at all. Oh . . . forget it. Let’s just go.”
The two of them made their last-minute preparations and were on Chijou within an hour. “So this is the place, huh?” Hisoka asked, looking around. “That’s odd . . . the report said something about crucifixion, but there’s no structures around here that would support that kind of weight, nor any that are the right shape.”
Tsuzuki looked around. “Looks sort of like an earthquake happened here,” he said thoughtfully. “But there weren’t any reports of one.”
The two of them wandered around for a few seconds. “There’s a lot of blood over here,” Hisoka said. “And the wires are really bloody . . . that must be how it happened.” He shivered slightly.
Tsuzuki walked over and peered over his shoulder, but said nothing for a long minute. “That’s odd, though,” he finally said. He beckoned Hisoka to follow him over to a large slab of concrete that was standing upright. It was also covered with blood. Shards of bloody glass were scattered around it.
They examined it for a minute. Hisoka nudged one of the pieces of broken glass with his foot. “Someone else was here when it happened,” he finally said. “Why wasn’t that in the report?”
“Well, if they weren’t killed, there’s no reason that we would know about it,” Tsuzuki pointed out.
Hisoka looked at all the blood. “They’d be damn lucky to have survived.”
“True,” Tsuzuki said. “But they obviously did.”
“You think it was her brother that was here with her?” Hisoka asked curiously.
“Could be,” Tsuzuki said. “He’s the first person we should look for, in any case.”
“Yeah, well.” Hisoka made a face. “We have school tomorrow.”
Tsuzuki laughed and ruffled Hisoka’s hair. “You should be more used to pretending to be a student,” he said, grinning.
“My parents never let me go to school, remember?” Hisoka asked, then turned and walked away.
~~~~
Fuuma had to admit that he thought he might have overdone it just a tad. It wasn’t that he regretted killing Kotori. Not in the slightest. She was whiny and annoying and had been begging to die for years anyway. Despite what most people thought, Fuuma was not overly fond of his sister. Though he’d been willing to put up with her on the principle that she was his sister, things had gotten worse after Kamui had come back.
Besides, morality wasn’t really an issue when all of mankind was at stake.
The funny thing about it, Fuuma reflected as he sat flopped in Kanoe’s ‘throne’, was that no one had ever even noticed the fact that he didn’t like Kotori very much. Sure, he protected her and stuff, but he was an older brother and that was what he was supposed to do.
But ever since Kamui had come back, it was Kamui this and Kamui that and isn’t Kamui wonderful. Fuuma was ready to kill her. Especially given that Kamui seemed so smitten in return. There was really nothing more annoying than watching your crush fawn over your sister.
Not that Fuuma considered himself to have anything so juvenile as a crush.
He’d never been able to pin down exactly what he felt for Kamui anyway. It was true that he’d had a very hard time forgetting the younger boy when he’d left Tokyo, but it hadn’t really mattered as he’d expected to never see Kamui again. His reappearance in Fuuma’s life had really thrown him into hell.
So Kamui was cute. So what? Fuuma knew other cute guys. He knew guys that were far cuter than Kamui. Though no one really had the same eyes as Kamui. But that was hardly the point.
The point, quite simply, was that Fuuma didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he’d really killed Kotori out of a fit of jealousy. So he wasn’t. Bratty little bint had deserved it anyway.
He sprang up out of the chair and went in search of something to do. All of the Dragons of Earth had been somehow magically drawn there -- but that had been hours ago, and most of them had wandered off. The only ones that were still there were Satsuki, who was locked away with her computer, Nataku, who somewhat resembled a lost puppy, and Kakyou, who was comatose. Not a lot of choices for companionship, so Fuuma chose the cutest of the three.
Getting in to talk to Kakyou wasn’t hard, after all. Oh, sure, he had to rip his Dreamscape open to do it and that really seemed to piss the Dreamgazer off, but that didn’t make it difficult.
“Yo, Kakyou,” Fuuma said as he strode into the Dreamscape. Kakyou had apparently given up on his short hairstyle, which Fuuma was rather glad of. It looked better long. He was sitting on one of the globes he seemed to consider a chair. Fuuma glanced around for more solid furniture.
Naturally, all the other globes disappeared the second he looked around. “Must you always ruin the scenery?” Kakyou asked dryly.
“Hey, you’re the one who controls the scenery,” Fuuma said, sounding wounded. “What’d I do?”
“Tore gigantic holes in it. You could have asked to come in, you know.”
“I could’ve,” Fuuma admitted. “But you wouldn’t have let me in, so I thought I’d skip that step and go straight to being a bastard. How’s your day been?”
“Magnificent.”
“I’m bored,” Fuuma complained. “Everyone’s left, and I can’t even go torture Kamui ‘cause he’s at Hinoto’s and I can’t really interrupt them there.”
“So you figured you would come torture me instead?”
Fuuma gave him a slight glare. “How is this torture? I’m just talking to you.”
“Point made and proven,” Kakyou replied.
“Entertain me.”
“Oh, yes, your Majesty,” Kakyou intoned. “How would you like it done?”
Fuuma paused, then smirked slowly. “But we only just met yesterday, ‘Kyou-chan.”
Kakyou looked somewhat like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Why don’t you just go jerk off like everybody else?”
“Because that will only keep me entertained for so long,” Fuuma said. “And not long enough.”
“Do you enjoy making me miserable?” Kakyou asked, shifting slightly.
“Well, no,” Fuuma said. “That’s why I told you to suggest an alternative form of entertainment.”
Kakyou attempted to look bored and disinterested. “Fuuma, do you understand that I’m cranky and wish to be alone or preferably die?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Fuuma said, waving this off. “And I told you I’d grant your Wish. Just keep me entertained in the meantime.”
“Sure it couldn’t just be an early charity act?” Kakyou asked.
“No. Who would entertain me then?”
“Wait an hour or two and Kamui won’t be at Hinoto’s anymore.”
Fuuma rolled his eyes and started pacing around the Dreamscape for lack of a better option.
“Or go talk to Seishirou. He’s interesting. I’ve seen his dreams.”
“Oh?” Fuuma asked. “Sneaky little spy, aren’t you? And what does our dear assassin see in his dreams?”
“That’s none of your business,” Kakyou said, sounding smug.
Fuuma sigh. “It’s none of yours either.”
“True, but I have the ability to spy, and you don’t.”
Fuuma pondered this for a moment, flopping down to sit on the ground. “Seishirou seemed interesting enough. You know, from the half hour that he was here. But he also didn’t seem like someone whose company I would actively seek. He’s too . . .”
“Cold-hearted?”
“Not quite the word I was looking for,” Fuuma said, “but it’ll do. Is he really? If you’ve seen his dreams, you might know.”
“Depends on the situation.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“No.”
Fuuma got to his feet, looking frustrated. “Kakyou, you’re a bitch sometimes. Jaa ne.” With that, he tore the hole back open and strode out, leaving Kakyou with a small smile.
~~~~
Subaru lit up a cigarette and smoked it, considering. Kamui had been quiet during dinner, despite the fact that Sorata was constantly pestering him to talk. Subaru didn’t know what Hinoto had shown Kamui that afternoon, but whatever it was, Kamui didn’t seem to be very pleased about it. He didn’t think Kamui should have to talk if he didn’t want to. However, he was still inwardly debating whether or not Kamui wanted to. If he did, it most likely wasn’t Sorata he was going to go to.
So he sat out in the garden and smoked his cigarette and waited. He wasn’t quite sure why he was bothering to wait, but he had only been outside for about ten minutes before Kamui walked out. He was still wrapped in bandages and wobbling, but he looked all right other than that. He sat down on the stone bench across from Subaru and said nothing.
Subaru let him keep his silence. He wasn’t going to press Kamui to speak if he didn’t want to, nor did he have any particular desire to speak himself. They sat for a few minutes in companionable silence.
“Does smoking actually help?” Kamui finally asked.
“Depends on what you’re trying to help,” Subaru said evenly, lighting a second cigarette from the ashes of his first.
“I’m not really sure,” Kamui said. “Anything that will make me feel better. Can I have one?”
Subaru handed over the pack and lighter without a word, and waited while Kamui lit up a cigarette. He wasn’t surprised when Kamui took his first drag and immediately choked. After a few seconds of hacking, he stubbed the cigarette out on the bench.
“Okay, that sucked,” he managed, tears leaking from his eyes. He rubbed his cheeks and handed the cigarettes back to Subaru. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Because you would have wanted one anyway,” Subaru replied, picking up the pack and putting it in his pocket.
“I guess,” Kamui said. He clasped his thin hands nervously, picking at the bandages. “I guess I’m going back to school tomorrow,” he said, the best conversation starter he could come up with.
“That’s good,” Subaru replied noncommittally. “No point in moping.”
“Pot? Kettle? Black?” Kamui asked dryly, proving that there was still some fight left in him. Somewhere.
“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite,” Subaru replied.
Kamui scuffed the ground with his foot. “Guess you must really hate being here,” he finally said.
“No more than anywhere else,” Subaru said, his voice flat.
“You wouldn’t have come, though, would you,” Kamui said, “if Sorata and Arashi hadn’t found you. You didn’t want to be part of this.”
Subaru shrugged. “I don’t know what I want.”
Kamui paused, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “You told me that it was okay to wish for whatever I wanted,” he finally said.
“Yes.”
“What do you wish for?”
“I wish . . .” Subaru paused, frowning. “I wish I was important to Seishirou-san.”
Kamui could tell there was more behind that than the Sumeragi was letting on, but also knew better then to press the subject. He sat in silence for a long minute, examining the bandages on his hands. He was thinking of Fuuma. “And do you believe what you told me?” he asked quietly. “That it’s okay for you to have that wish?”
Subaru considered it for a long moment, then nodded. “Yes. No one else has the right to make your wishes for you, or tell you what they should be.”
Kamui laughed shakily. “It’s funny . . . I have no idea how to go about getting Fuuma back, but it’s still what I want most. I don’t know what to do.”
“For now?” Subaru shrugged. “Relax. Take a vacation. You need to rest after what happened.”
“Relax, right,” Kamui muttered.
Subaru got up and walked the few feet to the other bench, sitting back down next to Kamui. He wanted to offer some sort of comfort, yet was unsure of how to go about it. It was difficult with Kamui to figure out what would be considered an intrusion and what wouldn’t. “You can’t do anything right now. You don’t know what Fuuma’s doing. So get some rest, and heal. When you can do something, you will.”
“I’m going to have to fight him,” Kamui said quietly.
Subaru didn’t want to confirm that, but neither could he really deny it. Instead, he put his arm around Kamui’s shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. Kamui wilted into it, resting his head on Subaru’s shoulder, relaxing in the presence of the only person who could truly understand.
~~~~~
There was a cruel irony in the world, Seishirou reflected, that was responsible for his life. And the most ironic thing currently was the fact that Seimei kept pressing him for answers about the odd thing that had recently happened to two of his schoolmates. Seimei was no idiot; he knew that something odd had been responsible for Monou Kotori’s death. And he assumed, correctly, that his father most likely knew something about it.
Not like Seishirou was going to tell him, however. And after the first few tries, Seimei had given up. He had a tendency to do that when speaking to Seishirou. Somehow, pissing the man off seemed like a bad idea in general.
So Seishirou waited in the kitchen and drank his tea while Seimei packed his weekend’s worth of belongings. It was only about a twenty minute drive to where Seimei lived with his mother. He could have given the kid some money and had him take a cab, as he’d done on many occasions, but he was bored and this seemed to be a suitable alternative to any other form of entertainment.
Seeing as his most common entertainment had just moved into a house with the rest of the Seals and was therefore inaccessible . . .
Seishirou sighed. It was turning into a long week. Just his luck that Seimei attended the same school that Fuuma and Kotori had, and of course he had noticed something amiss. He was simply glad that Seimei had never actually met Kamui. He would have noticed something was odd about him, and that would have caused no end of questions.
God forbid that Seimei ever found out about the Kamui and the end of the world. He might be a quiet kid in general, but Seishirou could imagine the earful he’d get if Seimei found out he was trying to destroy humanity.
Which he wasn’t really. He was just basically having a good time at the expense of the aforementioned humanity. He’d destroyed a kekkai to get Subaru’s attention, and that had amused him, but he wasn’t planning to do so in the future. He didn’t particularly care about what the Dark Kamui wanted, either. He had the computer freak and the bioroid to help him if he wanted to destroy things.
Seishirou had better things to do.
He ignored the voice in the back of his head that was requesting to know exactly what these ‘better things’ were. (This voice was commonly referred to as Tree-san by Seimei, who simply couldn’t come up with a better name for it.) Seishirou told the Tree to shove off. “Sei-kun, are you ready to go?” he called.
Seimei came out of his bedroom with a backpack and nodded. “Yeah.”
Seishirou assumed that Seimei didn’t like him, and he didn’t particularly blame the boy for it. He was only fifteen, after all, and Seishirou didn’t treat him very well. He hadn’t even met him until he was six, unless one counted the brief moments after Seimei’s birth.
Seimei certainly never gave any signs of liking his father, that was for sure. He was as quiet and undemonstrative as his father was cold and polite.
They may as well have been strangers that happened to spend weekends together.
Seimei stood by the door and waited while Seishirou pulled on his coat and shoes, then went out to the car. They had been in the car for a few minutes before Seimei spoke up suddenly. “We’re going on a field trip next week.”
“Oh?” Seishirou rolled down his window about an inch and lit up a cigarette. “Where to?” He asked merely because he knew Seimei expected him to, rather than out of any real desire to know.
“An art museum.”
“Hm,” Seishirou replied, taking a long drag on his cigarette.
“We still need chaperones,” Seimei said brightly.
Seishirou considered this, not even glancing at his son. “You should ask your mother. She’d probably enjoy a trip to an art museum.”
“She’s busy that day.”
“Oh,” Seishirou said. “That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, it really is,” Seimei said, waiting to see if Seishirou would say anything else. When he didn’t, he added, “Do you want to go?”
“To the art museum?” Seishirou asked, thinking he’d better make sure that his son had gone crazy, rather than just assuming.
“Yes.”
“With a bunch of teenagers.”
“Yes.”
“And I suppose I wouldn’t be allowed to kill any of them if they got out of hand, now would I,” Seishirou said. “I might get blood on the tapestries.”
“General idea is no murder, yes, you’re correct,” Seimei said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.
“What day is it?” Seishirou asked, after a long pause.
“Friday.”
“All day? Or just morning?”
“All day.”
Seishirou tossed the end of his cigarette out the window. “Sure.”
Seimei blinked a few times, this being the last thing he had expected. “Really?”
Seishirou glanced at him. “You asked. Don’t you want me to say yes?”
“Well, yes . . .”
“Why did you ask if you were so certain that I would say no?” Seishirou asked, rolling his window back up.
“Hope runs eternal,” Seimei replied.
“And it’s just been renewed.” Seishirou pulled into Seimei’s driveway. “I’ll pick you up for school Friday morning and go in with you.”
“Okay.” Seimei still looked bewildered. “Thank you.”
Seishirou watched as his son got out of the car and went inside. In truth, he wasn’t quite sure what had made him volunteer. It had simply amused him to boggle Seimei like that. He had obviously been expecting him to say no, so saying yes had provided him with, if nothing else, quite an amusing expression on his son’s face.
He didn’t mind spending time with Seimei, after all. No more than he minded spending time with anyone. He was just rather surprised that Seimei had asked, given that he seemed to dislike him rather intensely most of the time.
Seishirou shrugged and began to drive home. It wasn’t his job to analyze his son’s psyche, after all.
~~~~
Chapter Two
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