Chapter Twenty-Five
“You know, I had a thought,” Kakyou said sleepily.
“You were thinking during that?” Fuuma asked. “God. I’m insulted.”
Kakyou laughed. “Your fabulous fucking stimulated my brain cells.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay then.” Fuuma rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “What was your thought?”
“Do you think it could honestly be coincidence,” Kakyou said, “that Seishirou just happened to be at Rainbow Bridge after not only having a horrific fight with his family, but taking my little message the wrong way, and Subaru just happened to be the one who showed up to defend the Kekkai?”
“In retrospect,” Fuuma said, “No.” He had called Seishirou’s apartment to check up on him, at which point a rather tipsy Seimei had told him about Seishirou’s fight with Meiri (though not in great detail) when Fuuma asked if he had any idea why it had happened. “But Kanoe just isn’t that organized, and she can’t possibly have been trying to get Seishirou killed.”
“Seishirou was a coincidence,” Kakyou said, “but Subaru was not. The fact that he was the one who showed up, after all those things happened to Seishirou, has to be the work of the Kewpie Doll.”
Fuuma examined this statement for a minute. “Yeah, so she told Subaru to go, maybe knowing what would happen. But, well, it is sort of her job to off us Angels. So I don’t see the big deal.”
“So why pick the one Seal that wouldn’t want to kill Seishirou?”
“She probably figured that Seishirou wouldn’t let anyone else kill him. The man may be a lunatic, but he’s a powerful lunatic.”
Kakyou shook his head. “There’s something off, and she’s behind it. I haven’t quite figured out what yet, but . . . something’s wrong.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” Fuuma asked, reasonably enough.
“Tell Seishirou,” Kakyou said. “Seishirou will tell Subaru. Subaru will tell Kamui.”
“Kamui will kick Hinoto’s scrawny mute ass?”
“One can hope.”
“Think we should ask Kanoe about it? You know, maybe threaten her a bit and make sure she wasn’t involved at all?”
“I don’t think it matters,” Kakyou said. “Because we don’t take orders from her. The Seals do take orders from the Kewpie Bitch. For some unfathomable reason.”
“Well, no, it’s a perfectly fathomable reason,” Fuuma said. “She can see how things are going to turn out, so it makes sense to listen to what she says. They just don’t realize that a Dreamgazer can fuck you just as easily as they can help you, and if they do it right, you’ll never realize it.”
“Can I?” Kakyou asked.
“I was being metaphorical,” Fuuma said, but he winked.
“I wasn’t, and you’d better realize it if I fuck you . . .”
“Just remember that Nataku is in the next room.”
“Then don’t make much noise.”
~~~~
Subaru woke the next morning feeling sicker than a dog and remarkably stupid for taking the perks at all. He stumbled out of bed and managed to wobble his way out of his room and over to the kitchen. Seishirou was sound asleep on the chair, but Subaru didn’t notice the older man’s presence.
He got some crackers out of the pantry and began to nibble at them, feeling that those were the only things he might be able to keep down. He also started to make tea, which involved mostly putting a mug of water in the microwave. Seishirou stirred slightly at the noise in the kitchen, but didn’t wake until the microwave beeped. At that point, he sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes and looking around.
Subaru nibbled on the crackers until he felt a little better, then brought them and the tea out to the living room, figuring he would watch a movie and hope he would stop wanting to throw up. He stopped short when he saw Seishirou in the armchair. “Oh hell,” he said dejectedly. Memory started to reassert itself, and he found himself quite horrified.
Seishirou managed a wan smile. “Ohayo, Subaru-kun. Would you like the chair? You don’t look very well.”
“I . . . that is . . .” Subaru sighed. “There’s food in the kitchen, feel free to cook yourself breakfast. I’ll be in my room committing ritual suicide.” He turned and walked away.
Seishirou sighed and got up, going into the kitchen. He kept a close ear on Subaru’s room while he made himself some tea, but he could still hear Subaru moving around. He finally gave up and knocked on the door.
“I’m trying to die here, do you mind?” Subaru asked. He sounded quite cranky.
“Yes, I mind. I mind quite a bit.” Seishirou pushed the door open and went in. Subaru was in the attached bathroom being sick; Seishirou settled on the bed to wait until he was done. It was still warm and had a comfortable Subaru-shaped dent in it. Seishirou resisted the urge to lie down. “Feeling better?” he asked as Subaru came back out.
“I will when I’m dead,” Subaru said flatly, sagging onto the bed next to him.
“You should eat something,” Seishirou told him.
Subaru picked the crackers up off the nightstand table and held them out to Seishirou.
Seishirou sighed. “Why were you going to commit hara-kiri, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Because I made a complete ass of myself yesterday,” Subaru stated.
“How so?” Seishirou asked, more to be polite than because he didn’t know what Subaru meant.
Subaru gave him a withering look. “Oh, come on. I was a gibbering idiot. I said whatever came to my mind and I always sound like a fool when I do that.”
“You were on perks,” Seishirou said dryly. “I’ll forgive you. Do you even remember any of what you said?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“You were upset, understandably so. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I sounded like a whining child.” Subaru chose not to mention that he had given away far more than he had meant to. He was ready to whack himself over the head for that comment about how Seishirou had been supposed to kill him.
“I don’t recall you whining, so why don’t you stop kicking yourself in the head,” Seishirou said mildly, reading Subaru’s thoughts.
“This from you?” Subaru asked, slightly amused. “Your logic was a bit off too. I remember that much.”
“I don’t pretend to make sense.”
“Well, you should,” Subaru said irritably.
Seishirou paused. “Sorry?” he finally guessed. “I don’t have much practice at making sense.”
“Your whole line of reasoning is off,” Subaru said. He had apparently gone from sick to cranky. “I don’t even know how you got something so screwy.”
“Well, tell me, Subaru-kun,” Seishirou said, starting to get cranky himself, “exactly what do you think my line of reasoning was?”
“As far as I can figure, it’s this: I made your life bearable, and I loved you, so you had to make me hate you, by making me miserable, then wanted to kill yourself because you hurt me.” Subaru resisted the urge to throw his hands up in the air in defeat. “It doesn’t make any sense. None. It’s totally self-defeating.”
Seishirou had to admit that, phrased like that, Subaru had a point. “You’re missing some large pieces there,” he pointed out. “Such as the fact that a relationship between us could never have worked, because I’m the Sakurazukamori.” He paused, then added painfully, “Was the Sakurazukamori.” Even though Seimei was fairly sure that he could get the position back, it hurt Seishirou more than he would admit that the Tree had renounced him. He decided not to bring up the whole ‘I’m a cosmic mistake’ thing. He wasn’t sure there would ever be the right time for that. He realized suddenly that he kept putting it off because he simply didn’t want to talk about it.
Thank God, at least in one way he was acting like his old self again.
“Okay, I’ll admit that I’m a little worried about your morals,” Subaru said. “But why make the bet with me in the first place?”
Seishirou shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Subaru’s eyes nearly fell out at the spectacular uselessness of that answer. “Er . . . you . . . it . . . I give up.” He flopped backwards onto the bed.
“I suppose I probably wanted to lose,” Seishirou said thoughtfully, staring out into space.
“Then why drive me away?” Subaru asked. “You don’t even know if we would have gotten along. You never gave it a chance.”
Seishirou was silent for a long minute. “I suppose you could be a classic psychologist and blame it all on my mother,” he finally said, though his tone was slightly joking. “I wasn’t supposed to be able to feel, but I wanted to anyway . . . so I made the bet hoping to lose, and then wouldn’t allow myself to lose.” He frowned. “It’s all very complicated, really.”
“Well, let’s uncomplicate things before my head explodes,” Subaru suggested. “What do you want now?”
Seishirou considered it. “I want you to be happy,” he finally said. “I tried to give you that, but by your reaction, I strongly suspect I botched it.”
“Just a tad.” Subaru’s voice had lost the angry edge. “Why so hell bent on making me happy?”
“Why?” Seishirou blinked at him. “I don’t know. I just . . . wanted you to be happy.” Most people want happiness for themselves; it’s a basic human desire. Seishirou, believing himself undeserving of that, had transferred the desire onto someone else, onto someone who meant more to him than himself. He didn’t really understand this, but it had happened all the same.
“Do you know what I always wanted?” Subaru asked gently.
“For me to kill you,” Seishirou said, then reminded him, “You said so last night.”
Subaru shook his head. “That’s not precisely it. You were supposed to kill me, but that was because of something different.” He paused. “I wanted to mean something to you,” he finally said. “If you killed me, that was proof that I meant something.”
Seishirou shrugged. “I couldn’t let you know that you meant something to me,” he said. “I didn’t even want to let you mean something. I wasn’t allowed to have something as precious as you.”
“Why not?” Subaru asked, acknowledging the blatant, if in his opinion somewhat misplaced, compliment to his worth.
Seishirou blinked at him, perplexed. “Because I’m a murderer,” he said. Because I’m a cosmic accident. A demon that was never meant to be born.
He didn’t say that.
“What does that mean for your son?” Subaru asked.
Seishirou sighed. “You’re right. That was phrased badly.” And not what he really wanted to say, either. “It’s not that I’m a murderer. But Sei-kun has morals and a conscience. I seem to be lacking in both departments.”
“You have a conscience,” Subaru said firmly. “I’ll admit that your moral compass was off for a while, but it seems to have been evening out of late.”
Seishirou sighed and looked away. “You don’t know any of what I’ve done,” he said. He was thinking -- of all things why was he thinking about that now? -- about the way he and Subaru had met.
Over the corpse of a six-year old girl.
Her father had angered somebody; she was the price. Seishirou had taken the job. Killed a six year old girl for money that he didn’t even really need. Because he didn’t care. Human life held no meaning for him. Even now, it held so little as to nearly be imperceptible. He didn’t know her, or her father. It was a job. A target. That was all.
Perhaps it would have been easier if she had been the only one, if he had been saddened and sickened enough by his own behavior that he had never killed a child again, or never killed pointlessly again. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t until after he had met Subaru again, after he had killed Hokuto, after he had started teaching Seimei, that he had started investigating his targets and clients. Since then, he thought a lot of the time he had killed the client instead of the target. But it was too little, too late. The blood of the guilty couldn’t wash away the blood of the innocent. It could just cover it up for a little while.
“Depends on how far back you’re talking,” Subaru said.
“My whole life,” Seishirou said quietly. When had he first killed? How old had he been? Five? Six, maybe? Setsuka had knocked the target out and had Seishirou slit his throat. He had been young, that was for sure. He had made certain that Seimei hadn’t killed anyone until he was thirteen. He had learned how to kill earlier, but he hadn’t taken a life until Seishirou was sure he understood what taking a life really meant.
“So. Tell me,” Subaru said. “If you’re so intent on making me stay away from you, give it another go.”
Seishirou shifted uncomfortably. This was not on the list of things he wanted to discuss with Subaru, ever. “Isn’t there some other way I could make you stay away from me?” he asked.
“You’re running out of options,” Subaru said dryly.
“The difference between myself and Sei-kun is that he investigates his targets,” Seishirou said, and figured that was enough.
“I’ll admit that I’m not real big on killing,” Subaru said, “but I’ve been watching you. You haven’t hurt any innocents in the last nine years. You haven’t even hurt anyone that, as much as it irritates me to say it, didn’t do something to deserve it.”
Seishirou blinked. Apparently the stalker really had turned stalked. “I don’t think that nine years of not killing innocents makes up for twenty years of doing so.”
“No, but it’s a start,” Subaru said. “And you were telling me not to be too hard on myself.”
“So you’re saying that you’re willing to care for me despite the fact that I’ve killed innocents, just because I haven’t done so lately,” Seishirou said, skepticism written all over his face.
“Partly, yes.”
“And you say my line of reasoning makes no sense. Why don’t you care? About the fact that I’ve killed so many. About the fact that I’m a horrible person.”
“I do care about the fact that you’ve killed a lot of people,” Subaru said. “A lot of people died that shouldn’t have, but you seem to be trying to make up for it. And quite frankly I don’t think you’re a horrible person. I think you’re a messed up person, but that doesn’t mean that you’re a horrible one.”
Seishirou was taken totally aback by this. That Subaru could possibly believe he wasn’t a horrible person simply wasn’t within his realm of reasoning. Therefore, he immediately tried to convince the Sumeragi that he was. “I killed my mother.”
“Why?”
Seishirou actually began to stammer. “Well, because I thought I had to . . . to become the Sakurazukamori. It turns out there’s a ritual, though, so I didn’t have to. I just didn’t know that at the time. But I could have done that instead.”
“For starters, you didn’t know. Why did you want to become the Sakurazukamori so young, anyway? And why didn’t you know about the ritual?”
“The answer to both those questions is the same, and it’s a very long and complicated story that can basically be boiled down to the fact that my mother is insane.” Seishirou paused. “Was.” He seemed to be having tense trouble.
“Well, that would explain a few things.”
“I don’t want to use my mother as an excuse, Subaru-kun.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was fifteen when she died. I could have -- I should have -- changed after that, but I didn’t.”
Subaru gave him a funny look. “It doesn’t work like that.”
Seishirou returned his funny look with a blank one. “Why not?”
Subaru sighed. Apparently, Seishirou knew very little about family dynamics. “Let’s look at this from a different point of view,” he said. “Why did you have Seimei’s mother raise him?”
“Quite frankly, because I didn’t want him to turn into me.”
“And he hasn’t, right?”
“No,” Seishirou said, though sometimes he thought that he would have been much more like Seimei if Meiri and Atsuko had raised him. God only knew he would be more timid and shy if they had. He’d never met two more intimidating women.
“And when did you start becoming part of his life?” Subaru asked, reflecting that he sounded like a psychologist, and it was rather funny.
“When he was six,” Seishirou said, waiting to see where Subaru was going with this.
“If you think that you should have changed for the better after your mother died,” Subaru said, coming to his conclusion, “it would also stand to reason that Seimei would start becoming more like you after you became part of his life. You’ve been around long enough to be a strong influence. But he isn’t like you. A lot of what a person becomes depends on when they’re young. And it’s nearly impossible to change that later.”
“Fine,” Seishirou said, and as usual, chose to take it in the worst way possible. “So it’s all my mother’s fault. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a horrible person. All you’ve done is proven that I’ll never get better.” Never become a decent person. Certainly never become someone worthy of Subaru.
“But you have changed for the better,” Subaru said. “I said it was nearly impossible. Not totally impossible. But you can’t expect it to happen overnight.”
“Overnight? She died twenty years ago.”
“You made the bet when you were eighteen,” Subaru said. “You were trying even then. Because how your mother raised you isn’t everything you are. People aren’t made like that. You wanted something different even then.”
“Which must be why I didn’t let you win,” Seishirou said dryly. “I didn’t even give you a chance.”
“But I did win,” Subaru said with a slight smirk. “Don’t be so arrogant.”
“Fine, let me rephrase. That’s why I didn’t admit that you had won.”
“Because your mother messed you up.” Subaru fully planned on using this argument whenever he could. He was fairly sure that Seishirou would never find a way to argue around it.
“Stop trying to blame it all on my mother,” Seishirou said, his voice raising slightly. “She was the only person who cared for me when I was a child. Let me keep my delusions that she loved me.”
“I never said she didn’t love you.”
“Then why did she mess me up, as you so elegantly put it?”
“Because she may not have known any better,” Subaru said with a shrug. “I don’t know why she did it. But I bet she loved you.”
“I don’t want to talk about my mother anymore,” Seishirou said, obviously agitated.
“Okay,” Subaru said with a slight sigh.
“It doesn’t matter why I’m a horrible person,” Seishirou said, after a brief pause. “All that matters is that I’ve done unforgivable things.”
“My whole point is that you’re not a horrible person,” Subaru said, then added quietly, “And I can forgive the things you’ve done to me, if you can manage to stop doing them.”
Seishirou was silent a long minute, before saying softly, “You can’t.”
“Are you telling me what to do now?” Subaru asked, trying to keep his voice light.
“Why would you ever forgive me?” Seishirou asked, confusion plain in his voice.
“Because I want to.”
“But that makes no sense,” Seishirou protested. “I did awful things to you.”
“Yes, but I can still forgive you if I choose to,” Subaru said. “And I do.”
Seishirou shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to,” Subaru told him.
“But it isn’t fair,” Seishirou said. “I’m not supposed to be forgiven.”
“I can try to explain, but I’m not sure it’ll make much sense,” Subaru admitted. “Forgiveness isn’t about being fair; that’s revenge.”
“Please . . .” Seishirou said. “Explain what you can.” In a way, he was nearly desperate to hear an explanation that he could accept. He couldn’t accept blind forgiveness. There had to be a reason, or he wouldn’t let it happen. Subaru couldn’t just up and forgive him, not after everything he’d done. He didn’t deserve that.
“Well, I think about it like this,” Subaru said. “And I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. I can’t stop loving you. I just . . . can’t. But I can’t be happy until I forgive you, because if I don’t forgive you I have to be angry. And it’s hard to be angry with someone you love. So I choose to forgive you.”
Seishirou wasn’t really sure that cut it. But he couldn’t just tell Subaru ‘no, you can’t forgive me.’ The Sumeragi would kick his ass. “I suppose . . . since I can’t tell you what to do . . . that I have to accept that. But I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t deserve it,” Seishirou said, rather confused. He was under the impression that this was what they’d been discussing the whole time.
“What would it take to make you think that you do?” Subaru asked thoughtfully.
“What do you meant, what would it take?” Seishirou asked, frowning at him. “I either deserve it or I don’t. There’s nothing to be done about the fact that I don’t.”
Subaru sighed. “Okay. You’re going to stubbornly refuse to forgive yourself. Is there at least a way you can move on and be happy?”
Seishirou raised an eyebrow. “The whole ‘not deserving happiness’ thing goes pretty much part and parcel with the whole ‘not deserving forgiveness’ thing.”
“Let’s try this another way,” Subaru said, before he gave in to his urge to strangle Seishirou. “You said you wanted me to be happy. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Can I assume that if I’m happy it might make you happy?”
“As happy as I could get, yes.”
“Well, then, do you know what would make me happy?”
“No, but I could venture a good guess given our previous line of conversation,” Seishirou said dryly.
“Then take a guess,” Subaru said with a smile.
“No. If I’m wrong, I’ll sound like an idiot.” And part of him, though it was a very buried part, wanted to hear Subaru say it anyway.
“It would make me happy if we could be together, and I knew you cared about me at least half as much as I cared about you. I want you to be happy, too.”
“Why?” Seishirou asked quietly. “And don’t just say you love me.”
“Because misery is stupid when there’s a way to stop it,” Subaru said with a shrug. “And this would stop at least two people’s misery.”
“Even if one of the people deserves to be miserable?” Seishirou asked.
“Yep,” Subaru said with a smile.
Seishirou closed his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” he admitted. This whole love-and-forgiveness thing was beyond him, it was official.
Subaru wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. “I never did love you for your brains,” he said, amused.
“Hey,” Seishirou said, vaguely offended, but hugging back anyway. “The brain is surprisingly little help in these matters anyway.”
“So, think we can give this whole being happy thing a go?” Subaru asked.
There was a long pause while Seishirou hid his face in Subaru’s shoulder. “If it’s what you want,” he finally said.
“It is, but I want you to try to be happy, not just cater to my happiness.” Subaru didn’t want Seishirou turning this into some sort of bizarre penance, and he didn’t put it past the man.
“I’m not sure I see the difference,” Seishirou said.
“I just want to make sure you won’t spend so much time making me happy that you neglect yourself,” Subaru said. “You have to do some things for yourself, not just everything for me.”
“I’ll try,” Seishirou said, though he still wasn’t sure he understood. Since seeing Subaru happy was his happiness, didn’t it amount to the same thing in the end? He had a feeling that if he asked, Subaru would smack him.
“So no more silly suicide attempts?” Subaru asked, sitting back to see Seishirou’s face. He was wondering when he’d become the mature adult of the situation. He’d been doing recreational drugs the day before.
Seishirou half-smiled. “That wouldn’t do very well in the whole ‘making you happy’ department, now would it.”
“No,” Subaru said.
“Then I won’t do it.”
“Here’s an idea,” Subaru said. “Maybe you shouldn’t do it because you have something to live for, rather than just not doing it because it would upset me?”
“Subaru-kun . . . when I think about being with you, it does make me happy.” Understatement of the century there. “But it’s going to be a long time before I can convince myself that I deserve that. And it’s hard . . . to want to live . . . when I feel like that.” Now that he really thought about it, Fuuma had hit the nail right on the head. When had he last really wanted to live?
“Just as long as you’re trying,” Subaru said, again pulling him into an embrace. “And you don’t get mad when I try to help.”
“I won’t get mad at you.” Seishirou kissed the top of his head. “If you don’t get mad when I don’t understand.”
“Fair enough.” Subaru stood. “I think I might leave you for a few to take a shower and peel myself out of these clothes.”
Seishirou smirked, though he tried to hold it back. “There’s no reason for you to leave for that . . .”
Subaru gave him a look. “We’ve had one proper kiss, and you want to see me naked?” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve better not have been spying and seen it before.”
“I solemnly swear I have never seen you naked and we can fix that problem right now.” Seishirou stood and kissed him.
Subaru kissed him for a good long minute before pulling away. “Can I have my shower now? And would you like to go out to lunch after I get out? We could stop at your place first, and bring Seimei.”
“Yeah, sure,” Seishirou said, though he looked slightly upset. “You need to eat.”
Subaru frowned. He wasn’t quite sure what Seishirou had his boxers in a knot in over now, but it couldn’t be good. An upset Seishirou was never good. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Seishirou said hastily. “Never mind.”
Better and better. “No, see, not never mind,” Subaru said. “This is part of that whole doing things for you, not just for me.”
“I don’t want to upset you,” Seishirou said stubbornly, looking anywhere but at Subaru.
Subaru suddenly got it and sighed. “Look, Seishirou-san, it’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you. It’s just that I’m . . . nervous.”
“I’m just thinking about it the wrong way, that’s all,” Seishirou said immediately. “It’s nothing.”
“It isn’t nothing,” Subaru said. “What way are you thinking of it?”
“I just . . . worry, that’s all.”
Subaru recognized evasion when he saw it. “About what?” he asked gently, trying to coax Seishirou into saying whatever was bothering him.
“Isn’t . . .” Seishirou hesitated, then frowned. “Isn’t sex a way you show you love someone?”
“Ah. I get it.” Subaru sighed as Seishirou looked away again. “Yes, it is, but it isn’t the only way. And I’m not telling you that you can never have it. I just need to get used to the idea, because it’s also a big deal for me. I’ve never even kissed anyone before you.” He wrapped his arms around Seishirou’s waist and smiled up at him. “I loved you so much I wouldn’t even give that to someone else.”
“I just . . . wanted to give that to you,” Seishirou said quietly. “To prove that I was serious this time.”
“And I want to accept it.” Subaru leaned up and kissed his forehead. “Just think of me as a nervous teenaged virgin.”
Seishirou managed a smile. “Or two out of the three, at least. I told you that I was just being stupid.”
“No, you weren’t. You were right. You were just reading me a little wrong, that was all,” Subaru assured him.
“I just . . . needed to be sure.” Seishirou hugged him tightly, then moved on hurriedly before Subaru could respond. “Now go on and take your shower. Sei-kun must be worrying himself into fits by now.”
~~~~
Seimei started his morning by throwing up. Liquor was definitely going on his list of things to not indulge in, ever again. It had been two in the morning and through at least a bottle of hard liquor apiece before Hisoka had finally passed out. Seimei had managed to shove him onto the couch before falling asleep half on his own bed, half on the floor. His hair was everywhere and his back ached.
He was not having a good day.
Hisoka was up and cooking breakfast when he got up. Seimei felt ill. “Oh no. No food.”
“Sorry,” Hisoka said. “You need to eat something. There’s rice.”
“I’m gonna be sick.”
“Then go into the bathroom.”
“Uhh.” Seimei just slumped against the wall. “Why are you so . . . so . . . not hungover?”
“Well, as well as being able to heal, Shinigami also process alcohol faster,” Hisoka said. “And besides, I have practice.” Ever since the debacle on his first mission, passing out after one measly cup of sake, he had worked on his liquor tolerance.
“Why would you ever want to practice this?” Seimei asked.
“Look at you, and then look at me. I think you’ll find your answer.”
“Don’t make me throw you out.”
“You wouldn’t and you know it.” Hisoka handed Seimei a large glass of water. “Drink that. All of it. And then you can have some rice.”
Seimei sipped at it. “If I don’t drink it, do I still have to eat the rice?”
“If you won’t drink it, I’ll pin you to the floor and pour it down your throat.”
Seimei whimpered.
“Hangovers are caused by dehydration. Drink the water.”
Seimei wilted, but admitted defeat. He knew he would be sick if he tried to chug the glass, so he simply continued to drink it slowly. “What time is it?”
“Nearly noon.” Hisoka paused. “I had to call Tsuzuki and let him know where I was.”
“Are you two still mad at each other or did you make up?” Seimei asked, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down with his water.
“Well, I’m still mad at him,” Hisoka said dryly. “He still seemed upset, but he was glad I called. So at least he was okay with the fact that I’m not dead.” He paused. “I mean, deader.”
“Well, that’s okay.” Sip. “Did Dad call?” He realized absently that he was still wearing his school uniform, though the buttons on the shirt had been undone to reveal the T-shirt underneath. He didn’t remember doing that, and figured it had been while he was drunk.
“Not since last night,” Hisoka replied, putting the bowl of rice in front of Seimei. “But if he stayed over at Subaru’s like he said he was going to, it’s not too surprising.”
“Or he could’ve done something really stupid,” Seimei protested.
“Oh, and the Tree wouldn’t have told you?” Hisoka asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” Seimei said. “I’m not sure if the Tree can actually track him now that they’re not connected.”
“So ask it.”
“Right.” ::Tree-san?::
There was a pause, then, ::I’m sorry, the Tree is currently not with the land of the living at this time. Please leave your message after the beep. Be advised there will be no beep.::
Seimei’s head thunked against the table and he mumbled, “That’s not funny.”
“What isn’t?” Hisoka asked curiously, sitting down with his own breakfast.
“The Tree has an answering machine.”
Hisoka frowned. “I don’t even want to think about the logistics of that.”
“Now I really don’t know where Dad is!”
The door opened. “Ohayo,” Seishirou said, walking in. “Did I miss anything?”
“Dad,” Seimei said. “When did the Tree get an answering machine?” He blinked as Subaru walked in behind Seishirou. “Oh, God, I’m running away.” He disappeared into his bedroom without another word.
Seishirou blinked at Hisoka. “What’s with him?”
“He’s hungover,” Hisoka replied.
Seishirou looked momentarily pained. “Oh,” he finally said, and opened the fridge. Then he called, “Sei-kun, we’re going out to lunch, so get cleaned up!”
There was a strangled moan from the bedroom, then silence.
“You do enjoy torturing him, don’t you.” Subaru asked.
“Of course,” Seishirou said. “And besides, you’re hung over from perks and I’m still making you come.”
“Be nice or I’ll take a taxi home.”
Seishirou looked at where Hisoka was still calmly eating his breakfast. “Thank you for staying with him,” he said, trying not to sound too grudging. “I suppose you could come to lunch with us if you wanted.”
Hisoka knew better than to intrude on a family gathering, especially a twisted one like this. “Uh, no thanks. I’ve got to get back and make sure Tsuzuki hasn’t gotten into trouble in my absence.” He raised his voice. “Seimei, I’m leaving you to your father’s mercy!”
“Try not to kill Tsuzuki!” Seimei called after him.
Hisoka collected his few things and left. Seimei’s rice was still on the table; Seishirou started to clean up and the phone rang. He frowned and picked it up. “Sakurazuka desu.”
“Yo, Seishirou, it’s Fuuma.”
Seishirou paused. “Hi.”
“I tried to call last night but you weren’t there and your son had been into your liquor collection,” he said conversationally.
Seishirou peered into the fridge and took a few things out. “I’m aware of that. What did you want?”
“Well, to make sure you were still breathing, you arrogant ass,” Fuuma said. “And also to ask if you really thought this was a coincidence.”
“Which part?” Seishirou asked, only giving half an ear as he mixed varying things together. Subaru made a face at the vile smell.
“The fact that you first got in a huge fight with your family, then had a little run-in with Kakyou where he tried to knock some sense into you and you took it completely wrong, you just happened to go to Rainbow Bridge, and the only person you would allow to kill you just happened to be there to do it?”
Seishirou’s hands paused in what they were doing and he gave Fuuma his full attention. “Where do you get your information?”
“I have my ways.”
“Then what exactly are you implying?”
“Well, is Subaru there right now?”
“Yes.”
“Ask him why he was at Rainbow Bridge.”
Seishirou shrugged and cupped his hand over the receiver. “How did you know to go to Rainbow Bridge?”