Here's where the chapters start to get long. I finally realized that I don't want the story to be 800 chapters, so I started making them much longer instead. So, uh, enjoy? Or something like that. Warnings for a bizarre pairing (even if it's only a kiss), ExtraEvil!Muraki, Pissy!Seishirou, SickeninglyCute!KamuiAndKeiichi, and, uh, Fuuma.
Chapter Sixteen
Seimei had woken up to find a large bruise on one cheek, and he wasn’t quite sure of its origins. Had Muraki hit him in the face, or had that happened when he’d fallen to the ground? Everything was a bit blurry after a night of rest, for which he was profoundly grateful.
It was Saturday, so he still had to go to school, which didn’t please him much. Seishirou was sound asleep, and after how late he’d been up, Seimei was loath to disturb him. So he walked to school, offered an excuse that he didn’t even really hear to his classmates, and waited for the day to end.
Hisoka was waiting for him at the usual place when lunchtime rolled around. “Hey, what happened to you?” he asked, studying the dark bruise intently.
Seimei slumped against the tree they always ate under and slide to the ground, holding his lunch in one hand. “Muraki happened.”
Hisoka immediately went tense, and his curse scars flared for a minute from sheer reaction before he managed to banish the itching to the back of his mind. “What do you mean, Muraki happened?” he asked cautiously.
“I was out on a job with Dad and I was . . .” Seimei paused, searching for the right word, “accosted by him.” He sounded disgusted and cranky about it, not nearly as afraid as he’d been now that it was daylight.
“Are you okay?” Hisoka asked, trying to keep his voice even. He was practically vibrating from tension and anger.
“Yes and no,” Seimei said with a slight shrug, knowing better than to try to lie to Hisoka. “Physically yeah. But . . . well, he didn’t really get a chance to do much, but my first kiss was certainly not what I would have hoped. I’ll feel better once he’s dead.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Hisoka said, paused, then added, “Both those feelings, actually. You’re lucky, though. You got off pretty light.” He stared into the distance as he’d said this. He’d never told anyone about what had happened when he first met Muraki. Tsuzuki knew, but . . . well, he was Tsuzuki, and anyway, knowing was different from being told. As far as Hisoka knew, no one else was aware of it.
Seimei shuddered. “Yeah, I know I did.” He was all too aware of what might have happened if Seishirou hadn’t gotten there in time. He wanted to know whether or not Hisoka had gotten off light, but didn’t dare ask. He didn’t think Hisoka would appreciate the question.
“How’d you get away from him?” Hisoka asked curiously, carefully steering the conversation away from the topic of what had actually happened.
Seimei looked at the ground and scuffed it with his foot, slightly ashamed. “Tried to kick some ass on my own, but in the end Dad rescued me, and Monou-senpai stopped the two of them from killing each other.”
“So your father didn’t kill him?” Hisoka mused. “That’s too bad.”
“Yeah. Give Dad time and a high rooftop.” Seimei sighed slightly. “What the hell is Muraki, anyway? I’ve never seen anyone give Dad that much trouble.”
“We don’t know, exactly,” Hisoka said with a slight shrug. “He’s been giving us trouble for years now. He’s a very powerful magician, but that’s about all we know about him.”
“He’ll be a dead magician soon,” Seimei said darkly.
“I vowed to kill him once,” Hisoka said thoughtfully. “But I’m beginning to think it’s never going to happen.”
“One of us will do it,” Seimei said, looking quite determined. He wasn’t usually this cranky, but given the circumstances . . . “It’s hard to argue with a bullet between your eyes.”
“Let’s see,” Hisoka said dryly. “He already argued with two burning buildings, poison, and a knife in his stomach.”
“Ever check his pulse?” Seimei asked, just as dryly. “Ever feed his soul to a tree?”
“The second, no, but the first, yes,” Hisoka said. “The second time we met up with him. He was dead. Had an informal autopsy, time of death determined and all that. He showed up the next day, just as healthy as ever. He has some powerful protection spells on his life.”
“Fine, maybe a bullet won’t do it,” Seimei conceded. “But I bet he’d have trouble if Dad tore his heart out after killing him.”
“Maybe,” Hisoka said. “I don’t know. I’d just be happy to see him dead.”
“I’ve never actually wanted to kill someone before,” Seimei said, apparently mellowing a bit after his sudden case of bloodlust.
“Well, you’ve been brought up to kill,” Hisoka pointed out. “Even if you don’t like it, you’re at least accustomed to it. I find it much more impressive that Tsuzuki tried to kill Muraki.”
“Why?” Seimei tried to picture the bright and bouncy Tsuzuki trying to kill anyone. “I mean, besides the fact that he’s incredibly wrong and scary.”
“Hm . . . the first time it was because Muraki had kidnapped and tortured me,” Hisoka said offhandedly, as if he wasn’t quite thinking about what he was saying. “And then he summoned up a huge demon thing and was basically trying to kill us both. The second time . . . well, that’s a bit of a long story,” he said, and laughed uncomfortably.
Seimei was wondering what could possibly be worse than kidnapping and torture. What he finally decided to ask, however, was, “Two years? Exactly how long is your history with him?” His voice had taken on a slightly professional tone; the kind of voice Seishirou used when asking questions about a future target.
“Well, let’s see . . .” Hisoka considered it. “I first met him when I was thirteen, and that was about five years ago.”
“Dare I even ask how you two first met?” Seimei asked, keeping his tone light and holding his breath to see if Hisoka would answer.
“I saw him kill someone,” Hisoka said. His voice was totally flat, as if he was reciting something from memory rather than relating an experience. “He was going to kill me too, but then he decided I was too pretty. So instead he raped me, cursed me, and then erased my memory so when I spent the next three years dying slowly because of the curse, I didn’t realize he was the one who’d done it.”
Seimei took all this in and searched for any reply that might not anger Hisoka. “You’re right,” he finally said. “I did get off light.”
“Yeah.” Hisoka stared off into space.
“Did they ever break the curse?” Seimei asked tentatively.
“No. It killed me. It’s still here, even now. The scars burn when he gets too close.”
“Hey, at least you have an early warning system,” Seimei said. They sat in silence for a minute before Seimei said quietly, “Anything you can tell me about him. I fully intend to see him dead.”
“Anything?” Hisoka sighed slightly. “If I was going to give any advice at all, it would be to stay the hell away from him and let your father deal with him.” His voice lowered. “Once Muraki gets hold of a toy, he doesn’t let it go.”
“I said I intend to see him dead, not that I intend to do it myself,” Seimei said with a shrug. “But I don’t want Dad to get hurt, so if there’s anything you can tell me that might help, I want to hear it.”
Hisoka sighed again. “I’m not sure if there’s anything I can tell you. He’s very powerful, seems to be immortal for all intents and purposes, doesn’t really have any weaknesses . . . well . . .” His voice trailed off and he pulled his knees up to his chest.
“What?” Seimei asked softly, wondering whether or not he was pushing too hard. It obviously wasn’t easy for Hisoka to talk about.
There was a long pause before Hisoka answered. “If he has any weaknesses . . . it would be Tsuzuki. In a . . . a warped way . . . Muraki loves him. Or at least wants him.”
Seimei shuddered involuntarily. “I would not want to be the object of that man’s affection.”
“No,” Hisoka said. “It’s not a good thing.” He paused for a minute. “Remember earlier I was telling you about how I’d nearly lost Tsuzuki?” Seimei nodded. “It was becase of Muraki. It’s . . . it’s a very long story and I don’t really feel like going into it, but as to how to use that weakness against him . . . I don’t know. I won’t let Tsuzuki get hurt by him again.”
“My brief run-in was enough to mess me up, and it was brief,” Seimei said. “I would never put Tsuzuki in that sort of danger.” His voice was soft, but convincing. Hisoka found himself blinking very rapidly to hold back tears.
He forced a laugh instead. “It’d be hard to mess up Tsuzuki any more than he’s already messed up. But Muraki could manage.”
Seimei frowned slightly. “Tsuzuki didn’t seem that messed up,” he said hesitantly.
“Yeah, I know,” Hisoka said heavily. “He’s a great actor, trust me. I had barely even managed to realize how much he was hurting before he tried to burn himself to death.” He stopped abruptly and rubbed at his eyes, looking embarrassed.
Seimei said nothing. He simply reached out and pulled Hisoka into a hug.
Hisoka allowed it, though he allowed physical comfort from very few. “Thanks,” he said after a minute. “It . . . wasn’t that long ago.” His fists were clenched, and he was still trying very hard to avoid crying.
“Relax a little,” Seimei said softly, as Hisoka pulled away. “Do you want to talk?”
“Not . . . not right now. Thanks.”
Seimei tactfully changed the subject. “Are you two going to be okay with Muraki lurking in the area?”
“Yeah . . . he’s been staying away from us, mostly. Plotting things to his best advantage, no doubt.”
“Well, hopefully it won’t be an issue,” Seimei said. “Dad’s pretty determined to kill him. Though he has to find someone to replace him first, I think.”
“Replace him?” Hisoka frowned.
“Muraki was taking care of someone named Nataku,” Seimei explained.
“Oh, the bioroid.” Hisoka nodded slightly. “You know, let me ask Watari about it. He might have some idea of what he needs that would help. If you could get me some specifics on him, that would help.”
Seimei nodded. “I’ll have Dad ask Monou-senpai. Dad’s being a lot . . . nicer. And Monou-senpai didn’t seem to like Muraki too much either.”
“Well, that’s good. About your dad, I mean. I take it he got defensive?”
“Yeah, I think it really scared him.” Seimei smiled thoughtfully. “It’s weird . . . he really does love me. All this time and he really does care.”
Hisoka smiled back. “I could have told you that. But I’m glad I didn’t, because I’m sure it meant far more coming from him.”
“It meant the world coming from him,” Seimei said quietly.
“Good.” Hisoka smiled again, relaxing slightly. “So . . . are you okay? About what happened with Muraki. No one . . . no one ever asked me.”
“It’s skewed things for me,” Seimei replied, wondering if Hisoka worked with a bunch of idiots. “I can’t help wondering if it’s all like that. I mean, kissing is supposed to be all nice and, well, not what I got. And I suppose logically I know that it isn’t awful, but it’s hard now.” He gave Hisoka a close look. “Are you okay? With everything Muraki did?”
Hisoka laughed shakily. “Me? Of course not. Tsuzuki . . . he’s the only one who ever found out what happened, and he was too messed up himself to help me. He tried, but . . . it didn’t work. It was so long ago, I’m not sure it can be fixed now. I wish I could say something to help, but . . . I’ve never been kissed pleasantly, either.”
“Dad says it’s different, good, if you want to be kissed,” Seimei said. “I’m assuming he’s implying the entire deal. You know, not just kissing. And that helped a little to know. I mean, knowing that it might be okay.”
“Yeah, that’s good,” Hisoka said. “No one ever told me that.” He gave Seimei a sidelong glance, then looked quickly away. “Are you, uh, seeing the obvious solution to this?”
Seimei blinked at him, then saw it, and blushed, immediately looking elsewhere. “Uhh . . . maybe.”
“Not . . . I mean, I don’t feel that way about you, but we’re friends, right?” Hisoka was by now blushing a brilliant crimson himself.
Seimei nodded. “And I suppose we both . . . you know . . . want to make sure.”
“Yeah,” Hisoka said. “Or, well, I know I do.” He paused. “Is it okay?”
“Yeah, but . . . I don’t know how. I mean, I never have before.” Seimei’s blush deepened.
“Well, let’s find out,” Hisoka said. He leaned over and kissed Seimei firmly on the lips before he could lose his nerve.
“Ummmph!” Seimei tried to relax. It took him a few seconds, like he was expecting it to hurt. After that, he hesitantly began to kiss back. Hisoka did the same. Seimei was starting to enjoy it, but had to come up for air.
Hisoka pulled away when he did, and took a deep breath, afraid that he’d scared him.
“You startled me,” Seimei said, still blushing. “But it was turning out to be good. Um . . . wanna try again?”
“Sure.” Hisoka managed to turn back from red to pink. He leaned forward, but didn’t quite close the gap, leaving that up to Seimei.
“Maybe if one of us tilts his head . . .” Seimei did so, leaning close and kissing Hisoka gently. Hisoka tilted his head in the other direction, noting absently that it did indeed work better that way. He lifted one of his hands and put it on the back of Seimei’s neck, pulling him a little closer. Seimei went along with it, having a very typical teenage reaction and thinking that everything beside kissing was suddenly looking a lot better too . . . Hisoka began to run his fingers through Seimei’s hair, having a very similar reaction; Seimei put an arm around Hisoka’s waist.
It took a minute, but Seimei came to his senses and pulled away. “We don’t want to do this,” he said breathlessly.
Hisoka realized what had been happening and blushed again. “You’re half right. We do want to do this, but we really shouldn’t, because it won’t help either of us.” Except that it might banish the awful loneliness he knew that both of them felt. But afterwards, he had a feeling that it would only be worse.
Seimei moved away more. “And you have someone that you would rather have.”
“Not that he shows any interest in having me,” Hisoka said bitterly.
“You already said that he’s got issues.” Seimei settled himself, apparently recovering from the kiss. “It might take a while.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Hisoka leaned back against the tree, realizing with both some disappointment and some relief that he was not going to get kissed any more.
Seimei shrugged. “It’s just that when I see the two of you together, it looks like you belong together.”
Hisoka managed a smile. “Thanks.”
Neither of them saw Tsuzuki walking away.
~~~~
Tsuzuki was not having a good day. In fact, he was having a bad day. A day so bad that it was being filled with cookies just to keep him from ripping someone’s head off. Of course, he was acting perfectly normal. He always acted perfectly normal. Even seeing Hisoka kiss Seimei couldn’t stop him from acting perfectly normal.
He shook himself slightly as he realized that he’d been thinking about it again. He really needed to stop dwelling. What business of his was it that Hisoka had been kissing Seimei? It wasn’t as if he had any claim on the younger Shinigami, after all. Wasn’t as if he wanted to sit in a corner, curl into a ball and cry over it, right?
Right. Now if only he could convince himself of it. He settled for getting a new pack of cookies.
“Tsuzuki?” Hisoka plopped onto his bed and looked around at the cookie wrappers scattered everywhere. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Tsuzuki said, giving him a big grin. “Want a cookie?” There had to be a logical explanation, right? He hadn’t been close enough to hear anything that they’d been saying. Of course, he couldn’t think of anything they might have been saying that would cancel out the fact that they’d been kissing, but it was worth a try.
“Uh, no thanks.” Hisoka gave him a funny look. “You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Tsuzuki shoved another cookie in his mouth and prayed that Hisoka would let it go. It wasn’t like they had a relationship or anything, beyond being partners. Certainly wasn’t as if he were in love with Hisoka or anything silly like that. And even if he was in love with Hisoka, he deserved someone better. Someone closer to his age. Someone like . . . Seimei.
Hisoka watched Tsuzuki wilt. “Uhh . . . seriously. What the hell is going on?”
Tsuzuki waved his hands in the air. “I’ve just been thinking about the end of the world thing too much.” Yeah, that was it. “It’s depressing.”
Hisoka looked around at the cookie wrappers and chose to let it go, to Tsuzuki’s infinite relief. “Well, brace yourself to be angry as well as depressed. I have some news you won’t like.”
Oh dear. That couldn’t be good. Then again, Hisoka wouldn’t have used the word angry if he was referring to the fact that he now seemed to be dating Seimei. So it had to be something else. “What?” Tsuzuki asked, through a mouthful of chocolate.
“Muraki’s been . . . uh . . . making his acquaintance with Seimei,” Hisoka said.
Tsuzuki choked on a cookie. After a few seconds of Hisoka pounding on his back, he managed to swallow. And breathe. Both of which were good for his immediate health. “How much of an acquaintance?”
“Nothing too bad,” Hisoka said with a slight shrug. “Seishirou showed up before it got too bad, and rescued him. He says he’s going to kill Muraki now. Thought you ought to know, in case you wanted to buy tickets.”
“Smart man,” Tsuzuki said. “I wish him the best of luck.” He paused. “Is Seimei okay?”
“Yeah, he’s all right. I mean, understandably freaked out, but all right over that.”
And of course they had commiserated on their experiences and comforted each other and -- Tsuzuki shook himself slightly. He really needed to keep his brain on topic. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. At least, not anything that didn’t involve the phrase ‘so why were you two kissing?’ which he indisputably did not want to actually say. So instead, he started to pick up his cookie wrappers.
“Tsuzuki?”
“Nani?” He sprang upright, nearly dropping everything.
“You’re projecting misery all over the place. Try to cut it out, okay?”
“Right,” Tsuzuki said, and thought very hard about not projecting misery. For a second, he thought Hisoka was going to ask something else, but he didn’t.
~~~~
Fuuma was lounging around on the couch, playing Grand Theft Auto three with Nataku, when Seishirou walked in. To the man’s credit, he entered quietly and waited while Fuuma paused the game and turned to him. Kakyou was sitting on the couch, watching them play, but didn’t say anything to acknowledge Seishirou’s presence.
“I’d like to speak with you,” Seishirou finally said, when Fuuma looked at him questioningly.
“Kakyou knows all about it and Nataku won’t care,” Fuuma said. “Whatever you have to say can be said here.”
“Fine,” Seishirou said. “I want to kill Muraki.”
“Have a jolly good time,” Fuuma said brightly.
Seishirou blinked at him. “You’re not going to try to stop me?”
“Nah,” Fuuma said. “I just didn’t want to say so in front of Muraki. I’ve got Satsuki looking for someone to replace him. Actually, Kakyou is the one who talked me into it.”
Seishirou looked at Kakyou and blinked at him, bewildered. “Why?”
“Because he’s a disgusting waste of protoplasm,” Kakyou said. “And seeing as you actually care for your son, you deserve some sort of reward for that.”
Seishirou considered that. “I’m flattered,” he finally said, in a neutral tone that left Kakyou wondering whether or not he was being sarcastic.
“I only have one condition,” Fuuma said. “And that’s that if you manage to get yourself killed fighting Muraki I’m going to laugh until I cry. And then laugh some more.”
“Duly noted,” Seishirou said. “I have no plans on getting taken off guard again. My plan involves a sniper rifle.”
“Ah, good choice,” Fuuma said. “Maybe you aren’t such an idiot after all.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Seishirou said.
Nataku now spoke up. “You’re going to kill Muraki?”
Seishirou blinked at him. “Yes.”
“Good,” Nataku said. “Maybe your funny eye isn’t as funny as his.”
Kakyou burst into snickers, quietly and behind a polite hand, but definitely laughing. Fuuma made no efforts to hide his laughter.
“I shouldn’t think so,” Seishirou said. “Mine isn’t as bulbous.”
With that, he turned and walked from the room.
~~~~
::I’m sensing a small problem here.::
“Oh, why do you say that?” Seishirou asked, his voice caustic. “Just because the man’s soul isn’t in his body, why would that give you any trouble?”
::Don’t yell at me. It’s not my fault.::
Seishirou looked down at the pool of blood. “He’s dead. That’s all I came for. So let’s not worry about the fact that I can’t feed his soul to you. It probably would’ve poisoned you anyway.”
The Tree considered this for a long minute. ::But if his soul isn’t in his body, that means he might not really be dead.::
“He looks pretty dead to me,” Seishirou snapped. “And he’ll look even more dead after I bury him. You can at least suck his blood, even if you can’t have his soul.”
::Ew,:: the Tree said delicately.
“Fine, don’t suck his blood. Whatever you want. Just shut up.”
~~~~
Hisoka was somehow not surprised to see Muraki waiting for him on his usual route to school. He’d had the vague sensation that something was wrong, and his scars had been burning like crazy with every step he took. “What do you want?” he asked, not concerning himself with things like etiquette.
“I was just wondering if you’ll deliver a message for me,” Muraki said with a smile.
“I’m not your errand boy. Get the hell out of my face.”
Muraki shrugged. “It just concerns your friend Seimei. I could go tell him myself, if you’d prefer . . .”
Hisoka snarled something impolite.
“I don’t think that’s physically possible,” Muraki informed him.
“Just give me your message, you lech.”
“Tell Seimei that his father’s going to have to try harder than that,” Muraki said, and vanished without another word.
Hisoka continued to walk, dreading what he was going to have to tell Seimei. It didn’t help that Seimei was in an absolutely ecstatic mood. “Guess what?” he asked, from where he was sitting at a picnic table and eating his lunch.
“Let’s see . . . your father killed Muraki?” Hisoka sat on the bench opposite him.
“Well, fine, take all the fun out of it,” Seimei said, pouting.
“I will, thanks.” Hisoka shoved his sleeve up and displayed the arm to Seimei.
Seimei gave the curse scars a funny look. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“I have a message for you,” Hisoka said with a sigh. “Muraki told me to tell you that your father is going to have to try harder than that.”
“Harder than that?” Seimei asked incredulously. “He shot him in the head, ripped out his heart, and buried him underneath the Tree!” He paused, tilting his head to one side, then looked annoyed. “Oh, great. Now you tell me.”
Hisoka raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s the Tree telling you?”
“That the man’s soul wasn’t anywhere to be munched.”
Hisoka frowned thoughtfully. “That doesn’t make sense . . . is it saying that Muraki’s soul sort of wanders around aimlessly and he has spare bodies?”
“I don’t think any of us have any idea,” Seimei said, sounding irritated. “Including the Tree.”
Hisoka considered this for a long minute, tapping his fingers against the table. “This isn’t good at all,” he finally proclaimed.
“How is it any worse than it used to be?”
“I didn’t know that he could build himself a new body,” Hisoka said. “We thought he was just teleporting out of the dangerous situations. Well, and the time we saw his body, we figured he had taken a drug that slowed his heartrate or something. But he’s never gotten his heart ripped out before.”
“It won’t be the last time, if Dad gets his way.” Seimei looked unamused. “Or if I get mine.”
“I’ll ask Tsuzuki about it,” Hisoka said. “He may know some way that he’s doing it.”
“If he figures it out, let us know,” Seimei said.
“I will.”
“How are things with Tsuzuki-san, anyway?”
Hisoka sighed. “I don’t know. He was all upset about something yesterday. And he wouldn’t tell me what. He’s been acting funny ever since he got here and won’t tell me why.”
“Oh,” Seimei said, after a long period of deliberation in which he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Yeah, oh,” Hisoka said gloomily. “I know it’s not because of Muraki because he didn’t know about that at first. It’s been going on ever since we found out about the whole end-of-the-world thing.”
“I wonder what about it is bugging him,” Seimei said thoughtfully. “Other than, you know, the obvious.”
“Hell if I know,” Hisoka grumbled. “He obviously just doesn’t trust me enough to tell me.”
“Maybe it’s not a matter of trust,” Seimei suggested.
Hisoka raised an eyebrow. “What would you call it?”
“Bad wiring,” Seimei said.
“Huh?”
“Well,” Seimei said, “it’s come to light that my dad actually does like me, but hell if I’ll ever get him to admit it on a regular basis. That’s what I call bad wiring. And you’ve said Tsuzuki’s a little . . . off . . . before.”
“I guess,” Hisoka said with a shrug, obviously not really believing it.
“It’s just something to think about,” Seimei replied, and wisely let the subject drop.
~~~~
“Don’t mind the mess,” Keiichi said, kicking a box out of the way. “We haven’t really unpacked anything yet. But Mom’s got enough of the kitchen up and running to make dinner, so don’t worry about that.”
“Your house was exploded,” Kamui said. “I’m not going to complain about the mess.”
“More like imploded,” Keiichi corrected. He looked around. “Actually, I’m surprised we salvaged enough to have the boxes everywhere.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Kamui said, then offered shyly, “Do you want help unpacking?”
Keiichi looked faintly surprised, then smiled. “Sure. But we’re not starting until tomorrow.”
“I can come over then,” Kamui said. If he wasn’t trying to save the world, that was.
“Well, come on into the living room,” Keiichi said, motioning over his shoulder. Kamui followed him to find the one piece of functioning furniture in the house; an old, dusty sofa. There were sheets on top of it to hide the rips and tears it had sustained during the earthquake. “This tough, brave couch is the only thing that survived,” Keiichi said with his usual grin. “We’re going to go buy more furniture tomorrow morning.”
Kamui patted the couch. “It’s a good couch.”
Keiichi laughed and flopped down onto it. “Mom and I still have to sew up all the rips and stuff. Anyway. What do you want to do after dinner?”
“We could do something terribly mundane like a movie,” Kamui suggested.
Keiichi blinked at him. “My life is pretty mundane as a general rule,” he said thoughtfully. “But I guess yours must not be, given all those earthquakes you keep getting caught in.”
“I once heard somebody say that the worst curse you could wish upon somebody was that they have an interesting life,” Kamui said, sidestepping the issue. He wasn’t sure if what Keiichi had said was meant to be sarcastic or not. Keiichi wasn’t usually sarcastic, but Kamui wasn’t sure that anyone would believe he was that unfortunate.
“Yeah, I can see that, but wishing someone a boring life isn’t much better,” Keiichi said.
“You don’t like your normal life?” Kamui asked curiously.
“Oh, I like my life just fine,” Keiichi said. “But it’s been much more interesting since I met you.” He obviously meant this as a compliment, as it was accompanied by a large, sunny grin.
Kamui blushed and looked at the floor. “Oh,” he managed.
There was a brief moment of silence.
“Uhm . . . Keiichi . . .” Kamui said hesitantly, not sure of how to broach the subject of ‘the world’s salvation rests on my shoulders’, but willing to give it a valiant try.
“Mm?” Keiichi asked, blinking at him.
“I’m -- ”
“Dinner’s ready,” Keiichi’s mother announced, walking into the room. “My, you two look solemn. Whatever were you talking about?”
Kamui stammered for a second, before Keiichi rescued him, “Kamui’s going to come help us unpack tomorrow, Mom.”
“Really? That’s too nice of you, dear.” Keiichi’s mother leaned over and floofed Kamui’s hair. “Now come eat, the both of you.”
Kamui blinked, then followed Keiichi and his mother into the kitchen. There was a blanket spread out on the floor, with the food sitting in the center. No silverware except three pairs of chopsticks, and no chairs or table. It reminded Kamui remarkably of a picnic.
Keiichi snagged the paper after dinner and suggested a movie. Kamui was only too glad to spend whatever time was available in Keiichi’s presence, and agreed to go with no hesitation whatsoever. He found himself wondering, as they walked and Keiichi prattled on about things of little import , whether or not Keiichi really liked him. In the way that he liked Keiichi. He blushed just thinking about it. Add ‘so are you at least bi?’ to the list of topics he had to figure out how to bring up.
The movie was good, if nothing terribly noteworthy, and the two of them decided to go for a walk in the nearby park afterwards. They ended up on a bench, doing nothing more than talking, and Kamui was struck by the sudden desire to kiss him, and wondered what would happen if he did.
“Uh . . . do you . . . er . . . um . . . right.” Kamui shut up.
Keiichi blinked at him. “Do I what?”
“Er . . . uh . . .” Kamui waved his hands around for a second. “Nothing.”
“That doesn’t really seem like nothing,” Keiichi said, frowning slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No!” Kamui said, a bit too quickly. “I’m just inept.”
“At what?” Keiichi asked, still looking confused.
Kamui had a vague suspicion that Keiichi wasn’t really as confused as he was pretending to be. Really, no one was that dense. If he hadn’t sent enough signals by now, he didn’t think it could be driven into Keiichi’s head with a sledgehammer. But he would feel immeasurably stupid if he asked ‘do you like guys’ and then turn out to be wrong, so he didn’t want to say it. He stammered for a second and fell silent.
Keiichi bit back the urge to laugh.
“You’re laughing at me, I can tell,” Kamui complained.
“Maybe just a little,” Keiichi admitted.
“Stop messing with me.”
Keiichi blinked at him again, wide-eyed. “Why do you think I’m messing with you?”
“You’re going to damage my fragile little ego.”
Keiichi snickered.
Kamui pushed his shoulder lightly, making him rock back and forth. Keiichi still snickered for a second before regaining his composure and turning on the bench so he was looking at Kamui. For all his genkiness, Keiichi was still an awkward teenager at heart, and he was now blushing like a ripe tomato. “Ano . . . Kamui . . .”
“Yeah . . .?” Kamui asked, wondering if they could skip the confessions and go straight to the kissing. For one thing, if he blushed any more, he was going to burst into flames.
“I, um . . .” Keiichi leaned a bit closer. “That is . . . I think . . .”
“You’re really cute,” Kamui said with a smile.
Keiichi went from red to purple. “Um . . . thanks . . . you are too.”
“Then, um . . . are we . . .?”
“I think maybe . . .” Keiichi laughed slightly at both of their ineptitude. He leaned closer, and their lips were about to touch when a voice interjected.
“Well, hey, looks like I missed a few big events while I was off destroying the world, ne, Kamui?”
Kamui whirled around so quickly that he nearly fell off the bench, and Keiichi, expecting him to be there, nearly lost his balance. He stared at Fuuma, leaning against a tree a few feet away. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” he sputtered.
“Nah, that’s no fun,” Fuuma said. He walked over and smiled. “Yo. Who are you?”
Keiichi blinked at him. “Segawa Keiichi.”
“Nice to meet you,” Fuuma said imperturbably as Kamui stood, and dragged Keiichi off the bench to stand behind him. “I’m Monou Fuuma. Kamui’s ex-boyfriend.”
Kamui gaped at him indignantly. “You wish,” he snapped.
Fuuma laughed. “Hey, you’re growing a backbone. I always knew it would happen someday. Sorry, I just wanted to see the look on your face.”
“What, are you taking a catalogue of them?”
“Yeah,” Fuuma said. “I have a few good ones now. Agonizing pain . . . abject terror . . . you know, all those good ones. And now I have lovestruck, too!” He sounded quite proud of this accomplishment.
“What do you want?” Kamui asked, still keeping Keiichi behind him.
“Well, to begin with, I want to know why you’re acting like a body shield.” Fuuma smiled at him innocently. “You don’t think I would hurt your friend . . . do you?”
“The way you didn’t hurt Daisuke?” Kamui asked venomously.
Fuuma shrugged. “He asked for it.”
“How did Kotori ask for it?” Kamui snapped.
“In a thousand little ways, Kamui, like the way she flaunted the fact that you liked her better in my face every minute of the day,” Fuuma said. His tone was flat, despite the emotion in the words themselves.
“I didn’t like Kotori any more than I liked Fuuma,” Kamui said evenly. “But you’re not Fuuma.”
“Misunderstood to the last,” Fuuma said with a sigh.
“Then tell me, what am I misunderstanding?” Kamui asked.
Fuuma smiled. “How do you know that the Fuuma you thought was real was? Maybe I was here all the time, and he was just my cover. Had you thought of that?”
“Because if this was who you really were, you never would have promised to protect me as a child,” Kamui replied.
Fuuma’s eyes darkened, and for a minute Kamui thought he was going to attack right then and there. Then he just shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Or maybe I am protecting you, still.”
“I fail to see how,” Kamui said. “What are you protecting me from?”
Fuuma’s lips twisted in a smile. “From Fuuma, of course. The real one. Whoever that may be.”
“We’re going to be leaving now,” Kamui said, taking hold of Keiichi by the wrist and starting to tow him away.
Fuuma didn’t bother to pursue them. “See you!” he called after them. “Nice meeting you, Keiichi-kun!”
Keiichi managed to mumble something in return that he knew Fuuma didn’t hear. He glanced behind them and could have sworn that he saw Fuuma jump a good ten feet and land on a nearby streetlight, but that had to just be his imagination . . .
Kamui didn’t stop towing them until they’d reached a more populated area, at which point he slumped onto another bench.
“Ano . . .” Keiichi began uncertainly, sitting next to him.
Kamui took a minute to stop hyperventilating. “I don’t even know where to start,” he finally said.
“Why don’t you start by explaining who he really was,” Keiichi suggested, “and why you were afraid of him.”
It took Kamui a long minute to start talking, but when he finally did, he explained everything he could. Keiichi listened in silence, frowning slightly, but he didn’t question anything that Kamui told him.