Chapter Twenty-Two
Fuuma held the taxi door open for Kakyou and looked admiringly up at the large mansion. “Nice,” he said approvingly, straightening his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a T-shirt and torn jeans.
“My prison was up there,” Kakyou said, motioning to one of the windows and straightening the sleeves of his traditional kimono.
“Why’d they move you to the hotel?” Fuuma asked, ringing the bell.
“You know, I’ve never figured that out,” Kakyou admitted.
The intercom crackled, and a very stiff voice said, “Please state your name and your business with Kuzuki-san.”
Fuuma gave Kakyou a look, indicating that he should do the honors. Kakyou smiled. “This is Kuzuki Kakyou. Kindly inform my esteemed parents that I’m home.”
There was no reply from the intercom, but a minute later, the gates creaked open. Fuuma grinned and put an arm around Kakyou’s shoulders before starting through. The large driveway was lined with trees on either side; the sheer size of the estate hinting at the great wealth that the family held.
The butler was waiting for them at the front door. “Kakyou-sama,” he said, still sounding as if there was a large wedge of wood up his ass, “your father has been informed of your presence. He will be with you shortly.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Please feel free to wait in the lobby.” The butler showed them into what Fuuma might have called palatial, if he weren’t so busy playing with the wax fruit. The butler gave him a disdainful look. “And you are . . .?”
“My name,” Fuuma said, with a tone that gave the impression of a very exaggerated idea of his own importance, “is Monou Fuuma. I -- ” he motioned to Kakyou at that point -- “was banging him like a rabid weasel last night.”
“Rabbit,” Kakyou corrected, which, given the frequency of their nocturnal activities, was indeed more appropriate.
The butler coughed into his hand. “I see.”
“You can inform that big guy of that, too,” Fuuma said cheerfully, and bit into a wax apple.
“He shall be with you shortly.” The butler exectued a brief bow and walked out of the room. Fuuma dropped the apple back into a bowl. It was now slightly deformed and had a mouth print on it.
“Ew,” Fuuma said.
Kakyou settled onto an embroidered chair. “It was wax. You should’ve known better.”
Fuuma started scanned the room, looking for security cameras. Due to Satsuki and the Beast, he’d gotten pretty good at spotting them. There were two; kitty corner from each other. “What do you think?” he asked, motioning to each camera.
“I think you’re a voyeur,” Kakyou stated primly, crossing his legs at the ankle.
“I was wondering if I should disconnect them, actually,” Fuuma said musingly. “But maybe it’ll be good to get this confrontation on videotape. You know, so we can sell it to the press later. Hey, look, drinks.” He wandered over to a corner of the room where there was a small bar, specifically set for guests.
“Maybe they stuck me in the hotel because they thought I’d feel more at home there,” Kakyou suggested.
“Maybe so.” Fuuma came over and offered him a glass.
Kakyou took it, examined it briefly, and swallowed it down. Then he coughed. “What the hell was that thing?”
“Courage,” Fuuma said with a wink.
“So, in other words, straight vodka.”
“Rum, to be precise.”
“Yummy.” Kakyou waited patiently until the door opened and both his parents breezed in. His father, wearing a business suit, was a stern-looking man with grey streaks in his hair and lines in his face. His mother had the blonde hair that Kakyou had obviously inherited. She would have looked gentle, were it not for her hard blue eyes.
“Gaijin,” Fuuma muttered out of one corner of his mouth. Kakyou stifled a snigger.
“What did you think, that I dyed my hair while I was in a coma?” he muttered back. Then he stood up to greet his parents, bowing very slightly.
“Kakyou, dear, it’s so good to see you.” His mother breezed over and pulled him into an embrace, kissing the air beside his cheek.
“It is?” Kakyou frowned.
“Of course it is,” his father barked. “Don’t contradict your mother.”
“And what if I did contradict her?” Kakyou asked pleasantly. “Would you have me shot again?”
His father cleared his throat rather loudly. “Now, that never would have happened if you hadn’t tried to leave, you know . . .”
“I forgot I was in a prison, not a home,” Kakyou said dryly. “Do your friends know you try to keep your son as a pet?”
Kakyou’s mother intervened before his father could answer. “And who is this charming young man that you’re with?” she asked, giving Fuuma a definite eyeballing. Fuuma grinned cheerfully and waved, but didn’t answer. It was Kakyou’s show until he felt the need to intervene.
“Oh, this is my kidnapper,” Kakyou said, still smiling. “Rescuer. Lover. I could keep going . . .”
“Sex slave,” Fuuma suggested.
“Now, now, the handcuffs are only for your protection,” Kakyou said with a wink.
His mother looked like she might faint. Instead, she poured herself a shot of brandy and sat down on one of the couches. Kakyou’s father, meanwhile, was turning more and more red with every word they spoke. By the time Kakyou was done, he was nearly purple. “I could have you arrested!” he announced, pointing at Fuuma.
“For what?” Kakyou asked.
“You just admitted that he kidnapped you!”
“Did you miss the part where I said rescuer after that?” Kakyou asked. “I don’t think it counts if the victim is willing to go. Maybe I should have you arrested for holding me in prison for the rest of my life. And it was awfully kind of you to lie to me all those years and tell me that I wasn’t strong enough to go to school or do the things all the other kids did, but I was still strong enough to tell the future for you.”
Kakyou’s father spluttered. “That was for your own good -- ”
“You were selling the information I was providing, and yet I lived in a blank little bedroom with nothing to do and no one to be with, and this was for my own good? Explain to me the logic behind this.”
Kuzuki swelled up. “If we’d let people know about your services everywhere you would’ve had them lined up at the door twenty-four hours a day! You’re lucky enough we only told the select few that we did!”
“You didn’t have to tell anyone! You could’ve just left me alone!”
Kakyou’s mother laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder, apparently in an effort to calm him. He swallowed hard, still looking vaguely purplish, then spoke again in a calm voice. “What do you want, Kakyou?”
“My life back,” Kakyou said cheerfully. “But in lieu of that, I’ll take your money and your career.”
“You want money?” Kuzuki asked, making a distasteful noise. “Fine, you can have it. As long as you go away.”
“I already have the money,” Kakyou said. And in fact, he did. Satsuki had been skimming it regularly from the family and depositing it into an account for him. “I might let you have your career if I could have a public apology.”
“What are you going to do to my career?” Kuzuki sneered.
“Ruin it,” Kakyou said. “Wasn’t that obvious?”
“I’d like to know how.”
“I’m sure I can find something,” Kakyou said. “Or make something up, if I have to. I’m not picky. Even without evidence, the public would object to you having used your young child’s powers to further your career -- especially since half the time you were using me to obtain information to blackmail other politicians! I’m surprised no one ever realized how often your opponents just happened to drop out of the race whenever you were running.”
“And how is a public apology any better?” Kuzuki growled. “The public will still find out what I was doing that way.”
“Ah, but you might have a little chance of saving yourself,” Kakyou said. He still had that perfect, formal smile on his face.
“Forget it,” Kuzuki said. “And if you’re going to insist on being a bother, I suppose I’ll have to make sure you stay here.” He waved his hand, and security guards came in both doors.
Kakyou began to giggle. “Oh, I need a drink.”
“Here, babe.” Fuuma tossed him the bottle of vodka. It looked for a minute like he had tossed it too fast, but then it abruptly slowed in midair and settled in Kakyou’s waiting hands.
“Cute trick,” Kakyou said, taking a drink from the bottle. He frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. If you can move things with this much accuracy, why were we struggling with the camera?”
“Telekinesis gets a lot harder during sex,” Fuuma said. “I have to concentrate.”
Kakyou sighed and took another drink.
Fuuma turned to Kuzuki. “You can either let us go,” he said politely, “or I will tear this house apart from the inside out. It’s your choice.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Kuzuki said. “That was interesting sleight of hand with the bottle, but I don’t believe you have any real power.”
Fuuma grinned and pulled out a cell phone. He punched one button and then held it to his ear. The entire room listened with bated breath, though Kuzuki tried to look disinterested. “Ah, Satsuki? . . . can you do me a quick favor? . . . aa . . . yeah, we’re at Kakyou’s house . . . can you tap into their security camera system? . . . good . . . I’ll give you a sec . . . okay, now, grab the last half hour from the main lobby. It’ll be Kakyou and I talking to his parents.”
Kuzuki turned to his guards. “Stop those damned cameras!”
“Got it . . .? Okay, thanks a ton. Yeah, I’ll let you know why I want it later. Hey, you can watch if you want, I don’t care. . . .hm? Yeah, we’ll be back in a few days. Thanks a bunch.” He hung up the phone. “Too late, Kuzuki-san, sorry.” He turned to Kakyou. “M’dear, how many pieces would you like your parents in?”
Kakyou considered this for a long minute, watching his mother turn pale. “Oh, I think one. It’ll be more amusing if they live.”
“Your wish is my command.” Fuuma lifted his hand.
“One thing, though,” Kakyou said. “That’s the security guard that shot me.” He pointed to the third guard in, near the back door.
“Oh, okay. No problem.” Fuuma made sure he aimed the first blast right at that particular guard. Needless to say, the house didn’t last much longer.
Kakyou made sure to get lots of photos.
~~~~
As seven o’clock grew closer, Subaru found himself pacing back and forth his apartment. He was trying vainly not to be nervous. Of course, a real date with Seishirou was hardly something that happened often (or had happened at all in the last nine years), but it was nothing to get too tense about. Actually, the date itself wasn’t what he was tense about. The real tension and unease came from wondering whether or not Seishirou was actually going to show.
He didn’t know where Seishirou was going to take him, so he’d dressed moderately nicely, in a turtleneck and some of his best slacks. He wasn’t fond of suits as a general rule; collar shirts looked bad on him. The pants were black; the shirt dark grey. He glanced at himself in the mirror for the thousandth time and decided that he did, in fact, look good.
Slowly, he started to unwind the bandages around his head. He wasn’t going to wear them out on a date, that was for sure. And part of him wanted to be sure that Seishirou saw the damage that had been done. He wasn’t sure why he wanted this, but he did.
Just as he had finished taking the bandages off and combing the hair underneath them, the doorbell rang. He jumped ten feet in the air, smoothed his clothes down, and hurried out to the front door.
Seishirou was indeed standing on the front step, in one of his trademark suits that always managed to look good on him, no matter how many times he wore them. He hadn’t worn the trenchcoat, however, and his sunglasses weren’t present either. He was actually managed to not look evil. He was holding a dozen white roses in his arms.
Subaru’s eyes crept towards his hairline. “Wow, you’re doing this with style,” he said, slightly amused. He was trying not to show how desperately pleased that a) Seishirou had showed up, and b) he was treating this like a real, normal date.
“Nothing but the best, of course,” Seishirou said, with the same genuine smile he had left Subaru with before. He offered the roses to him, which Subaru accepted.
“Want to come in while I take care of these?” he offered.
“Sure,” Seishirou said with a smile, stepping inside. Subaru went into the kitchen to put them in a vase.
After he had searched every cupboard, he came to the inevitable conclusion. If he’d thought about it, he probably would have figured it out earlier; what did he need a vase for? People certainly didn’t buy him flowers often. “I don’t own a vase,” he called to Seishirou, taking out a set of tall drinking glasses and putting the roses in them instead.
Seishirou coughed slightly to hide his smile. “You can have one of mine. I’ll run by the apartment and get it after dinner.”
“Thank you,” Subaru said, not bothering to suppress his wide smile.
Seishirou offered the younger man his arm. If he was going to give in to this ridiculous relationship, he was at least going to do it in style. “Shall we?”
Subaru accepted it, and the two of them left the apartment. He locked it after them. “Where are we going?” he asked curiously.
“It’s a surprise,” Seishirou said with a wink. It called attention to his blind eye, and Subaru realized suddenly that Seishirou hadn’t commented on his yet. If he was going to at all. It hadn’t startled him; that much was certain.
“I see,” Subaru said.
Seishirou had parked his car out front. It was black, and quite shiny, and Subaru knew it must be expensive though he couldn’t identify the make and model. He recognized it as Japanese, at least. Of course Seishirou bought nationally. Subaru wanted to giggle at the thought of Seishirou being patriotic. He managed to stifle it just as Seishirou opened the car door for him.
He walked over to the other side and got in as Subaru did, then began to drive. There was a brief silence, companionable enough, before Subaru decided to ask the question he’d been wanting to ask ever since Seishirou had showed up on his doorstep to warn him about Muraki. “So,” he said conversationally, “why didn’t you call before? You know, after I got out of the hospital.”
Seishirou coughed slightly. He had been hoping, though he knew the hope was futile, that Subaru wouldn’t bring it up. “Because I’m a gutless coward?” he tried. He was beginning to worry less about presenting the world with his cold-hearted image. If he could admit he loved his son, he could admit just about anything.
Subaru again tried to hide his smile. “I wouldn’t say gutless,” he said mildly. “Coward maybe, but not necessarily gutless.”
“You’re too kind to me, Subaru-kun,” Seishirou replied. “All right, just a plain coward then.”
Subaru considered the answer for a long minute. “No, I still don’t get it,” he decided. “Try again.”
Seishirou blinked, taken aback by this. “I’d think it’s fairly obvious. I didn’t call you because I didn’t have the nerve.”
“But it’s not like I would have been mad at you.” Subaru shook his head slightly, confused. “I thought we had gotten over that.”
“I didn’t expect you to be angry.”
“Then why risk me being angry a month later when you did finally come to see me?” Subaru wanted to bang the man’s head against the car window. It would probably do him a lot of good.
“Because I needed to warn you about Muraki,” Seishirou reminded him, then offered the best explanation he could for the date. “And as you didn’t seem about to rip my throat out, I decided to chance dinner.”
“Very nice skirting of the question,” Subaru said with a smile. “Trying to pin you down is like trying to catch a fish bare-handed.”
Seishirou parked the car outside a restaurant. “I’m afraid I don’t really know the answer to why I wouldn’t call you, Subaru-kun.”
Subaru smiled slightly. “Now, see, that would have been a much better answer than your first one,” he said.
Seishirou raised an eyebrow. “I’ll remember that pleading ignorance goes over well in the future. Now if you’d care to get out, we’re here.”
Subaru laughed and exited the car; Seishirou did the same. The restaurant was small and familiar, but had a very homey feel to it; it seemed more like a family restaurant than a romantic one. Subaru was pleased by the choice, for some undefinable reason. If Seishirou had taken him to an intimate cafe the way Muraki had done to Tsuzuki, he wouldn’t have been nearly as pleased.
“Don’t think you can use ignorance every time I throw a question your way,” he warned Seishirou, though he was actually quite amused with the older man.
Seishirou just rolled his eyes and offered his arm to Subaru again while the waiter showed them to a table. He pulled out Subaru’s chair for him, then took his own seat. He gave Subaru a long look, examining him carefully. “So tell me, Subaru-kun,” he said. “Why didn’t you want that eye?”
Subaru blinked, taken aback by the bluntness of the statement. “Who said I didn’t want it?”
“Fuuma,” Seishirou said, then thanked the waiter as he brought them both a cup of tea. He reached out and began to sip his.
“Do you always take the word of a power-mad sadistic teenager bent on world destruction?” Subaru asked, taking a drink of his own tea.
Seishirou wanted to point out that Fuuma was neither sadistic nor bent on destruction, but Fuuma could watch out for himself. Besides, if Subaru had found out, the news might get back to Kamui, and that would just cause all sorts of disasters. He settled for saying, “Not always, but thus far you haven’t denied it.”
“Why would I?” Subaru asked calmly.
“Theoretically, if one goes by the traditional definition of the word ‘deny’, you would deny it because it is untrue,” Seishirou said, in a slightly teasing tone. “You haven’t denied it, therefore I’m assuming that Fuuma was correct in his statement.”
“You’re right,” Subaru said, needling right back and enjoying it immensely. He was wondering when the hell he had gotten so comfortable in the assassin’s company. “He was correct in his statement.”
“So,” Seishirou said cheerfully, “why didn’t you want that eye?”
“Divine justice,” Subaru said. “And a bit of lunacy, I think.”
Seishirou laughed, one of the first real laughs Subaru had ever heard from him. He didn’t laugh very often; he very rarely had reason to. “Apparently the word of a power mad sadistic teenager bent on mass destruction is worth quite a bit these days. That’s exactly what he said.”
“Well, good call on his part,” Subaru said, picking up his tea again.
“So what exactly does divine justice mean?” Seishirou asked. “In relationship to you losing your eye, I mean.”
“Karma,” Subaru said. “I caused you to lose your eye; it’s only fair that I lose mine. And something of a punishment, I think.” He frowned at his tea. “Or something like that.”
“Yes, well, the circumstances were rather different,” Seishirou pointed out. “It doesn’t seem to make much sense.”
“Nothing about me, or my attraction to you makes any sense. Aside from your good looks,” Subaru said dryly. “Try not to take that as an insult.”
Seishirou considered this statement for a long minute. “Good point,” he finally said. There was another pause as the waiter came over and took both their orders, then whisked away.
“Though I’m starting to think that your attraction to me also makes no sense,” Subaru said thoughtfully.
God knew that Seishirou agreed with that statement whole-heartedly. Still, he had to at least question. “Why? You’re a pleasant, handsome, and very kind individual.”
“Pleasant? Me?” Subaru laughed. “And here I thought you’d been spying on me for the past nine years.”
Seishirou coughed slightly, not sure what he could say to that. “You’re pleasant when it suits you.”
“That can be said about nearly anybody,” Subaru pointed out.
“You don’t know how to take a compliment, do you,” Seishirou asked, amused.
“Of course I do. I didn’t argue with handsome or kind, though I have my off moments there.”
“Let me rephrase,” Seishirou said. “You don’t know how to graciously take a compliment.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that.” Subaru took another sip of his tea. “I thought your son stayed with you on the weekends,” he said, tactfully changing the subject. “How is he doing? Where is he?”
“Sei-kun’s doing well,” Seishirou said, somewhat surprised that Subaru had asked. “Thank you for asking. He’s with the rest of the family at the moment; I didn’t really want to leave him on his own.”
“Rest of the family?” Subaru asked with a faint frown.
Seishirou coughed again. “Yes, that’s a fairly new development. But he seems quite fond of them.”
“Where were they?” Subaru asked, still not getting it. “I thought you had no family.”
“They live on the outskirts of Tokyo. There’s a lot of them in the Main House. We . . . didn’t speak very much until quite recently.”
“I see,” Subaru said, in that tone which meant he didn’t. To be precise, he was wondering why his grandmother had never mentioned the existence of this Clan. It was always ‘Sakurazukamori this’ and ‘Sakurazukamori that’; never a mention that there were other assassins running around. Then again, she had her personal vendetta to take care of, the death of her son, and probably didn’t want Subaru distracted.
Seishirou raised an eyebrow at him. “You look irritated. Have I done something wrong again?”
“Actually no,” Subaru said. “But I think my grandmother has some explaining to do.”
“They’re a fairly reclusive clan,” Seishirou said with a shrug. “It’s possible your grandmother didn’t even know that the clan existed outside the Sakurazukamori.”
“Well, here’s a question for you,” Subaru said. “As far as you know, were there ever any problems between the Clans before your mother and my father?”
Seishirou was not surprised that Subaru knew that his father had been killed by Seishirou’s mother, and did not ask when he had leanred the information. “Not as far as I know, but my mother was rather . . . unorthodox.”
“Well, then, I think this concludes the feud nicely,” Subaru said with a smile.
There was a pause while the food arrived and the waiter brought them both more tea.
“You said Seimei was getting along with them,” Subaru said thoughtfully. “Can I take that to mean you aren’t?”
“It’s all very . . . confusing for me. My entire relationship with them was built on a lie, and it’s been a very strange week trying to get it all sorted out.” Seishirou shook himself slightly. “It feels like a long dream that I’m still waiting to wake up from.”
“So what happened?” Subaru asked, surprised to find himself genuinely curious about this aspect of Seishirou’s life. “Clans don’t usually just lose their members.”
“To make a very long, rather complicated story short, my mother ran away with me while I was still an infant. She brought me up believing that the Clan had renounced her and thrown her out, when in truth she had killed her father and taken off without saying anything to anyone. According to my father, because her mother was unable to forgive her for what she’d done -- and me, by causing it with my very existence -- they didn’t bother to look for her.” Seishirou said most of this in one breath. It had been somewhat difficult for him to say, and he hadn’t wanted to lose steam. Why he had said it at all, when a week ago he was fairly sure that he would have just shrugged the question off, was beyond him. He looked down at his dinner and found he was actually hungry.
“Well . . . that’s uh . . .” Words failed Subaru. “Maybe your grandmother and mine were sisters in a past life,” he mused.
Seishirou smiled slightly. “It wasn’t entirely her fault. They looked for my mother in the beginning, but they couldn’t find her, and the rare occasion they did manage to find her, she killed whoever they sent. My grandmother eventually decided it wasn’t worth it.”
“I suppose,” Subaru said, and picked up his chopsticks. “May I ask how all this came to light?”
“Well, I had managed to hide from them so well that they didn’t realize I had a son, and were concerned about the continuation of the line. They managed to find out about Sei-kun and talk to him, and he was so thrilled with the prospect of other teenagers that might understand him that I couldn’t say no when he asked me to take him there.” That wasn’t exactly easy to admit either. Seishirou was totally unaccustomed to the idea of being wrapped around anyone’s finger, especially his fifteen year old son’s. At least Seimei didn’t usually take advantage of it. Not purposely, anyway.
“That’s . . . actually very sweet,” Subaru said thoughtfully. He was rather astonished. ‘Sweet’ was not often a word that could be applied to Seishirou. In fact, he didn’t think he ever had before. And doubted he ever would again. “You said your father was telling you things? In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve only mentioned your mother. What’s he like?”
“He seems very nice, very understanding. I barely know him. I haven’t seen him since I was three weeks old; my mother told me that he was dead.”
“Well . . . oh.” Subaru had no idea what he could possibly say to that.
“He was very surprised when I told him that,” Seishirou said, with a slight laugh. His tone was light and conversational, but underneath that it sounded strained. There were only three people in the world who would have noticed (if the Tree could be counted as a person) and unfortunately, he was sitting at the table with one of them.
“You okay?” Subaru asked, again surprised to find himself concerned. “You sound a bit . . . upset.” Man, he was using all sorts of words he never would have applied to Seishirou before. Seimei had really done a good job of humanizing the man, apparently.
“I’m all right,” Seishirou said, a bit too quickly. “It’s just been a very trying weekend. It’s worth it to see Sei-kun happy for once, but . . . I have aunts and uncles, a step-mother, half-brother, relatives I never even dreamed about. Makes me think about what I must have missed . . . and what I forced Sei-kun to miss by proxy.”
“You haven’t missed it,” Subaru said reassuringly. “Just sort of gotten there late. And Seimei hasn’t missed as much as you have. I bet he’s not thinking about what he missed, but about what he just gained.”
Seishirou had no idea how to react to the Sumeragi attempting to comfort him, so he quickly switched subjects. “Today I found out that my mother killed her father and left because they were going to take me away from her, not let her raise me. Presumably because of how insane she was. It seems very odd, to have caused a man’s death merely by being born.” All right, that was not the subject he would have chosen. How the hell had that fallen out of his mouth?
“You can hardly be blamed for that,” Subaru said. “Even in your own twisted little head.”
“Perhaps it would be easier if my grandmother didn’t so obviously hold me responsible,” Seishirou mused.
“Does anyone else hold you responsible?”
Seishirou coughed slightly, which Subaru was by now recognizing as his signal that Subaru had asked a question he didn’t want to answer. “I don’t think so, no, but I haven’t met everyone yet. And I can’t speak for my grandfather himself, of course.”
“Then she’s one woman out of a large and loving family,” Subaru shrugged. “Don’t let her ruin it for you and Seimei.” Honestly, when had he started giving Seishirou friendly advice? He had to have fallen into an alternate dimension when he’d gotten out of bed that morning. This was too weird.
“I’m not,” Seishirou protested. “It just makes it difficult, given that she’s the current head of the family and is pretty much only tolerating me for Sei-kun’s sake.”
“Maybe she’ll warm up to you?” Subaru asked absently, trying to listen for the theme to the Twilight Zone.
“Why the hell would she?” Seishirou asked dryly. “There’s nothing here to warm up to.”
“That’s entirely untrue,” Subaru said firmly. He was reassuring Seishirou that he was worth something. It was ridiculous. What was the most ridiculous was that he loved it. He loved sitting with Seishirou like this, like a human being, just two people out to dinner talking about their lives. He was soaking up the attention like a sponge. Seeing Seishirou vulnerable might be the strangest and yet best thing that had happened yet this year. “I’m warming up to you fairly well. And you care about your son, so there’s something for him to warm up to. If nothing else, she might become easier to deal with because she likes Seimei.”
“I suppose I can only hope,” Seishirou said with a shrug. “But you can understand my distraction.”
“Yeah,” Subaru agreed. “Acquiring a family would be stressful. They’re stressful even when you’ve had them for a while.”
Seishirou pushed the rest of his food aside. “It’s good for Sei-kun, though. He doesn’t seem stressed. More overjoyed.”
“Well, it must have been hard on him before,” Subaru pointed out. “Not having anyone to talk to. But hey, he’ll turn out better than me. I never got anyone.”
“You at least weren’t an assassin,” Seishirou pointed out. “Your profession was unusual, but not illegal.”
“In the end, it doesn’t really matter,” Subaru said.
“I suppose not. Would you like dessert?”
“Yes, actually.”
Much to Subaru’s amazement, as well as Seishirou’s, the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Subaru steered the conversation back onto more general topics, and they talked about a random sampling of things. Subaru was surprised to find how much they had in common, even after all this time.
But Seishirou was different. Subaru didn’t know how he knew, but he would have sworn on everything he believed on that the man was not acting. This was the real Seishirou, for whatever reason he’d chosen to show himself.
The car ride home passed mostly in companionable silence. Seishirou walked Subaru up to the door of his apartment. “So did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, with one of his knee-melting smiles.
“Yes, actually,” Subaru said, his knees melting. “Immensely. We should do this again.” He was crazy. He was out of his mind, and loving every second of it.
Seishirou laughed. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the concept of anyone enjoying my company, least of all you.”
“You know, you really have self-esteem issues,” Subaru said, terribly amused. “You might want to work on that. You can be quite pleasant to have around.”
Seishirou shrugged slightly. “I’d like to do this again . . . if that’s all right with you.” He leaned forward, making it plain that he was about to kiss him, but giving Subaru time to back away if he so chose.
“Of course it’s all right,” Subaru said, and leaned forward for the kiss. It was the first one they had ever shared that was not a gesture of spite or hate. Seishirou put his hand on the side of Subaru’s face and kissed him gently. It was short, and soft, and innocent.
After a few seconds, he pulled away. “Well . . . good night then.”
“Good night,” Subaru said with a smile. “This time remember to call.”
Seishirou just laughed and went back to his car. Subaru let himself into the apartment, nearly dazed from the evening. He found himself thinking that if this was an alternate dimension, he hoped to hell that he never got home.
~~~~
Seimei was trying very hard to not be nervous. He kept telling himself, about every five minutes, that Teiji was just a friend and he didn’t even know if the older boy would be interested in any other kind of relationship. Unfortunately, his hormones weren’t paying much attention to him. When he and Teiji reached for the rice at the same time and bumped hands, he nearly had a heart attack. He was quietly hyperventilating for a good three minutes afterwards.
Senichi was cheerful and talkative, as was his very pregnant wife, Yuiko. Teiji was quieter than the two of them, but by no means shy. He interjected whenever his rather dry sense of humor prompted him to. There were two other children. Akane, the girl, was only nine, but her brother Fujihara was twelve. Senichi talked at great length about the martial arts program his son was enrolled in (and now was a student teacher in). The other two children were in training, but it hadn’t been decided whether or not either of them would join the ‘family business.’
After dinner, they had an impromptu sparring match. It was short. Seimei, quite accidentally, wiped the floor with him. “Sorry!” he squeaked.
“No problem.” Teiji picked himself up. “I should’ve known better than to spar with the Sakurazukamori-in-training. You’ve probably had classes since you could walk.”
Seimei looked guilty. “Only since I was six and a half . . . I just seem to have an aptitude for it.”
“Yes, well,” Senichi spoke up, “Setsuka was quiet and sweet and talked about birds all the time, but she could kill a grown man with one blow. So you probably inherited it.”
“Whereas I,” Teiji said, plopping into a chair, “use my wits to survive.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Seimei said, hoping he sounded casual. “Dad told me that you weren’t technically related.”
Teiji nodded. “Yeah, but Dad’s trying to get me into the business anyway.”
Seimei noted absently that Teiji referred to Senichi as his father, even though there was no technical relationship. It wasn’t surprising; over the course of dinner, Senichi had mentioned that he had married Yuiko when Teiji was only four. “Yeah, growth industry,” he said.
Teiji laughed. “Anyway, it gets pretty dull around here at night, but there’s a mall nearby, if you want to go.”
“Malls are fun.”
Teiji bounced over to his father. “Drive us? Please?”
“I suppose I could do that,” Senichi said, feigning a much-put-upon sigh. He picked up his car keys and jacket and they followed him out to the garage. “So, Seimei-kun, where did you say your father had gone tonight? It would have been nice if he could join us.”
“I think he was going out to dinner with, uh, Sumeragi-san,” Seimei said hesitantly, not sure how his great-uncle would take this.
Senichi blinked. Teiji looked interested. “Which Sumeragi?” Senichi asked.
“Subaru. The, uh, Thirteenth Head.” Seimei cringed, wondering why he’d told them this. Not that Seishirou would care if they didn’t approve, but still . . .
“Well, that’s good,” Senichi said. “Maybe that’ll smooth over some of the hostilities.”
Seimei blinked. “Which hostilities?”
“Well, the Sumeragi and the Sakurazuka Clans were originally opposite, but not opposing, forces. They were more designed to complement each other than to fight. Unfortunately, everything went to hell when Setsuka lost her marbles and killed the Twelfth Head. Things have been . . . uh . . . tense, since then. No matter how many times Meiri-sama tries to explain to the old bat in charge, she refuses to believe that Setsuka’s actions were not condoned.” Senichi paused in his monologue. “Though I was under the impression that Seishirou had killed the Thirteenth Head’s sister.”
“So . . . this whole war is relatively new?”
“Yeah,” Teiji said. “Doesn’t your dad tell you anything?”
“I think he was being fed the wrong information,” Seimei said. He didn’t relish having to tell his father this.
“Well, given that Setsuka apparently wanted to do no wrong in her son’s eyes, she probably didn’t tell him that she single-handedly started the war,” Senichi said dryly.
“Oh dear,” Seimei said. “Dad isn’t going to want to hear this.”
“So he did kill the Sumeragi’s sister?”
Seimei nodded slightly.
“So why is he out to dinner with the guy?” Teiji asked, frowning. “I’m confused.”
“If I remember correctly from the fit that Sumeragi-san threw in my father’s living room,” Seimei said thoughtfully, “I think he’s still in love with my dad.”
“Oh,” Senichi said, after a minute. “Something’s telling me that I don’t want to inquire too deeply into this, do I.”
“I’m trying not to inquire too deeply either,” Seimei assured him. “Sumeragi-san is scary when he’s angry.”
“So does your dad love him too?” Teiji asked, apparently not afraid of inquiring more deeply himself.
“I think so,” Seimei said, “but I think another decade will pass before he admits it.”
“Ah,” Teiji said knowingly. “One of those types.”
“Dad’s a lot of types,” Seimei said, as Senichi pulled up to the mall so they could get out.
“When should I come pick you up?” he asked.
“Uhhh . . . twelve?”
“Try again.”
“Eleven?”
“Ten thirty.”
“Aw, Dad . . .”
“Ten.”
“Okay, ten thirty it is!” Teiji grinned at his father and shut the door. “See you then!” Teiji took hold of Seimei’s shirt sleeve and dragged him into the mall. They spent a while perusing the different stores. Seimei was beginning to wonder if there was any polite way to enquire into Teiji’s preferences. No, he really didn’t think there was. His fashion sense was just too good to be straight, right?
Teiji was tall, and sort of gangly, as if he hadn’t quite grown into his body yet. He had short black hair that was perpetually rumpled in an extremely attractive manner. His eyes were large and dark, and deepset enough to make his face seem more narrow than it really was. He was wearing a nice T-shirt and a pair of cargo pants. He had stolen one of Senichi’s dark green button down shirts and had tied it around his waist.
“What do you think?” Teiji asked, as the two of them settled in one of the cafes for a glass of iced tea apiece. He was gesturing to a girl standing on the outskirts of the cafe. “On a scale of one to ten, what would you give her?”
Seimei’s heart sank. “On a purely aesthetic level, I’d give her a seven.”
“Mm, I was thinking a bit higher.” Teiji continued to watch as the girl’s date walked over. “Okay, now he is at least a nine. You’ve gotta give him that.”
Seimei’s heart returned to its proper place. Bi was just as good as gay, really. “Nine point five,” he corrected.
“True. Lucky bitch.” Teiji said this in a purely observatory tone; there was no malice in his voice. Just a note of dry amusement.
“All the good ones are gay or taken,” Seimei said. “I think they’re all just taken.”
“Not all,” Teiji said with a slight smirk.
“Oh, really?” Seimei raised an eyebrow and attempted to look laid back, trying very hard not to pass out.
“Yeah. Well, let’s see . . .” Teiji started to scan the cafe. “Like that blonde kid over -- wait a minute.” He stared harder. “Oi! Segawa-kun!” He waved at the blonde he’d been referring to.
Keiichi turned and blinked at him, then his face split into a wide smile. “Oh, hey,” he said. He stood up and made his way over, with Kamui in tow. He pulled up a chair and sat down. Kamui looked for a seat and couldn’t find one, so plunked down in Keiichi’s lap.
“Well, so much for that,” Teiji said dryly.
“So much for what?” Keiichi asked.
“I was trying to show Seimei here that not all good guys are taken,” Teiji said. “But you, my fine example, just ruined it for me.”
“Oh.” Keiichi didn’t look remorseful in the slightest. “I’m gay, does that help?”
“No, that’s who we were discussing,” Teiji said. “Uh, Segawa-kun, this is Sakurazuka Seimei. Seimei, this is Segawa Keiichi. We had martial arts together for a while. Who’s your date, Segawa-kun?”
Keiichi blushed slightly. “This is Shirou Kamui.”
Seimei started slightly, giving Kamui a closer look. He had only seen him once or twice in the brief week that they had shared the same school, and thus hadn’t recognized him. In fact, his first thought upon noting the pretty face and large violet eyes was that he hoped Muraki never saw him.
Kamui, in turn, examined Seimei. The family resemblance wasn’t hard to spot, and he was about the right age to be Seishirou’s kid . . .
“He your cousin?” Keiichi asked, taking a sip of his tea.
“Loosely,” Teiji said. “He’s my step-father’s sister’s son’s kid.”
Keiichi frowned, trying to follow that. “Didn’t you miss ‘former roommate’ in there somewhere?”