Chapter Thirty-Two
Fuuma went back to the apartment and dispatched Nataku to go stay with Kakyou. He was going to get Kakyou’s quilt, since Kakyou had declared that he hated hospital blankets, and meet them there. Nataku left, and Fuuma took a long drink of something unidentifiable and alcoholic before going into his bedroom.
Kotori was sitting on his bed, playing with the rabbit.
Fuuma nearly shrieked. “Why don’t dead people stay dead anymore?” he yelled. “And why are you playing with Bunny? That’s my rabbit! Get the hell away from it!” He snatched up the rabbit and cuddled it, giving Kotori a dirty look.
“Well, fine,” she said. “See if I help you out again.”
“You wouldn’t let me go near yours,” Fuuma snapped. “Besides, Kakyou gave him to me. And I’ve had a very long day.”
“Yeah, that’s kinda why I’m here,” she said, swinging her legs back and forth.
Fuuma looked at her. “You know that Kakyou and I had sex on that bed last night, right? We didn’t change the sheets.”
She gave him a dirty look. “You’re a real jerk sometimes, you know that? Do you want my help or not?”
“Do you know how to bring Kakyou back?” he demanded.
Her face creased in an unusual frown. “No,” she admitted. “Sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, sis. What the hell do you want to tell me if you’re not here about that?” He sat on the bed next to her, holding the rabbit in his lap and stroking its ears forlornly.
“I thought you might be interested to know why this happened, at least,” she said stiffly. Fuuma just gave her a look. She sighed heavily and continued. “Well, there’s two reasons. For one thing, Kakyou had a vision that Hinoto didn’t want you to know about.”
“And that was . . .?” Fuuma asked.
“A third version of the Final Day.”
Fuuma nearly choked. “A third? Stop playing around, Kotori! What the hell is going on?!”
“That guy you met, Takeshi,” Kotori said, “is a former Kamui. Which you know. He wants the world to end, which you also know. And he’s either going to find some way to make you do your job, which seems unlikely -- not that I’m displeased about that, though I don’t think you really needed to crucify me -- or he’s going to kill you. And then kill Kamui on the Final Day.”
“He did make a reference to something like that,” Fuuma said thoughtfully.
“That, right now, is the prevalent future,” Kotori told him brightly.
Fuuma choked again. “That’s the prevalent one?”
“Yup,” she said. “And then there’s the second reason Hinoto has done this, which actually had nothing to do with Takeshi.”
He just looked at her.
“She wants you to do your job,” Kotori said. “So she figured if she kills Kakyou, you’ll go batshit and destroy the world. So I’m here to warn you to not go batshit and destroy the world, even if Kakyou dies.”
“No, if Kakyou dies I’m more likely to go batshit and commit suicide,” Fuuma snapped.
“Thus giving your position to Takeshi and ending the world.”
Fuuma paused. “You know, that’s why I hate you. You’re such a God-damned know-it-all.”
“You wouldn’t hate me if I weren’t right,” she responded cheerfully.
“Don’t make me kill you again. What am I supposed to do about this mess?”
She shrugged. “Just remember one thing -- something Kakyou told you -- the Shinigami move outside the realm of normal Fate. If you want to change the future, they’re the ones you need to go to.”
“Great,” Fuuma said dryly. “Thanks for the advice there. I’ll just go un-traumatize Tsuzuki now.”
“Don’t be such a defeatist,” she said, smiling.
“I’m going to smack you in a minute.”
She shrugged. “You can’t. I’m dead.”
“If you were playing with my rabbit, that means you’re physical enough for me to hit you.”
“Maybe I’m only physical to the rabbit. Now had you thought of that?”
“I’ll hit you with the rabbit.”
“You will not,” she said dismissively.
Fuuma stood up and placed Bunny back in his cage. “You touch my rabbit again, and I’ll make sure you suffer as much as one possibly can in the afterlife. Thank you for the advice.”
“You’re welcome.”
~~~~
Kakyou really wasn’t too happy with the position he found himself in. He had figured out, fairly quickly, that the only way Hinoto could have trapped him so efficiently (and he had no options but Hinoto) was to surround his Dreamscape with her own. Whenever he tried to leave, he ran into her walls.
Bitch.
Given that dreams all work on metaphors and symbols, he had decided to erode at the walls of his own Dreamscape, giving him a better chance of escape. Thus had he modified the dream so that rather than standing on a beach, he was on a small island. The ocean moved outwards, not inwards, crashing against the horizon, where the Dreamscape ended.
He was left on said island with nothing but a palm tree for company. He wasn’t quite sure how the palm tree had gotten there. Normally he didn’t bother with things so tacky. Fuuma was really wearing off on him.
He wondered what the palm tree symbolized.
Knowing Fuuma, it was probably a phallic symbol.
He had no idea of how long he’d been trapped. Time didn’t really travel at the same rate in a dream unless one was paying attention to it. He imagined it was quite a few hours at this point. Fuuma had to have woken up by now, and was probably doing something about the fact that he was trapped. He just had to wait.
He hated waiting.
~~~~
Kamui sat up dizzily, then lay back down again. “God, what hit me?” he mumbled. “Did you get the license plate on that bus . . .?” There was something soft underneath his head, but the rest of him was lying on the floor.
“He’s okay,” Subaru’s voice said.
Kamui opened his eyes and saw the world spinning around him. He took a few deep breaths and reminded himself not to throw up. It was hardly the first time he’d been concussed. Then he closed his eyes again. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but did Fuuma just barge in here? I don’t remember what happened after that.”
“It was almost an hour ago now,” Sorata informed him. “You’ve been unconscious. He slammed you into one of the pillars.”
“Actually, he slammed most of us in varying directions,” Arashi added dryly.
“I have bruises,” Subaru professed, though in reality he did not. He was the only one of them who had been smart enough -- and knew enough of what was going on -- to get out of Fuuma’s way instead of in it. But they didn’t really need to know that.
“Why was he here?” Kamui asked. “Why are we still alive?”
“He only seemed interested in having some words with Hinoto,” Sorata explained, though from his frown it was clear he didn’t think it was much of an explanation. Kamui glanced over and saw both the twins and Hinoto’s new bodyguard attending to her.
“What sort of words?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.
“None of us really heard,” Subaru said. “He seemed mostly interested in squeezing her head off.”
“Oh dear,” Kamui said vaguely. “Can I stop laying on the floor please? I’d like to go home.”
“Sure.”
~~~~
By the time Fuuma arrived with Kakyou’s blankets and his favorite plant, Nataku and Kanoe were already there waiting for him. He ignored Kanoe in favor of putting the blanket over Kakyou and tucking it in. The Dreamgazer was already looking impossibly pale. Fuuma swallowed his panic and turned to Kanoe. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“No,” she said calmly. “But I figure if I can find my sister in the Dreamscape, I can at least distract her long enough for you to find your way in to Kakyou and get him.”
“Works for me.” Fuuma sat down in the chair next to Kakyou and waited. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, he was standing with Kanoe in the barren wasteland he’d found earlier. “Now what?” he asked.
She looked around. “I don’t see anything that would signify Kakyou’s presence,” she said.
“Like what?” he asked with a frown.
“Dreams are made of metaphors,” she said, somewhat impatiently. “There must be something here that symbolizes the boundaries between the two Dreamscapes. Do you have any idea what something like that would be?”
Fuuma blinked at her. “What, like a fence?”
“Could be, but that’s generally too obvious.”
He looked around. “In that case, I don’t see jack shit. Where’s your wobbly-headed bint of a sister? What symbolizes her, a shrunken head?”
She gave him a look that bordered on being dirty. “She would be here as her true self, as will Kakyou.”
“Well, that’s no fun,” he grumbled.
“I’d hate to think what your idea of fun is,” Kanoe replied. “Come this way. I’m sensing her presence.”
Fuuma followed her obediently, looking for anything that he thought might represent a boundary. He still saw nothing. Nothing but the same grey, formless background and the occasional rock.
Eventually, they saw Hinoto. Takeshi was standing with her. Fuuma thought absently that if he could just manage to kill Takeshi right then and there, a good portion of his problems would be solved. He also thought that if he provoked Takeshi, he’d probably wind up deader than a doornail. As loath as he was to listen to Kotori’s advice, it was all he had to go on.
“Where’s Kakyou, you wobbly-headed bitch?” Fuuma snarled.
Hinoto smiled at him. She was standing on her own two feet, though Fuuma assumed that was because she could do whatever the hell she wanted in her own dream. The floor was made of glass, and Fuuma glanced down at Hinoto’s reflection. It was different from her standing form, leaning upwards against the glass and pounding on it. As if begging to be set free. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,” she answered. “If I haven’t crushed his pathetic little Dreamscape by now.”
“Not good enough,” Fuuma announced. He began to start forward, then Takeshi moved in front of her. The movement was very slight, almost unnoticeable, but its meaning was obvious. Fuuma stopped and looked around. Oddly enough, one of the walls -- when had walls showed up? -- was leaking.
Hinoto smiled sweetly at Kanoe. “I see your loyalties have shifted, sister dear.”
Kanoe gave her a cold look. “I could say the same of you. We’ve been on opposite sides since then beginning of this. When did you start trying to destroy the world?”
“Perhaps I always was,” Hinoto said, as if the thought was just occurring to her.
Fuuma, seeing that they were occupied, walked over to the wall. There was just a tiny crack in it, but water was running from it at a surprising rate. Hinoto and Kanoe continued to argue, but Fuuma could feel Takeshi’s eyes on him. Experimentally, he reached out and touched the water, then licked his finger. Salt water. The ocean. Kakyou.
“Hinoto-hime,” Takeshi said softly, respectfully.
Hinoto looked over at where Fuuma was about to tear through the wall. The crack immediately sealed up and the walls started to draw away from them. Fuuma realized with a shock that she was pressing Kakyou’s Dreamscape inwards. “I’ll crush him,” she said sweetly.
Fuuma backed away from the wall. It stopped its slow retreat. “Kanoe, damn it, you’re supposed to be distracting them,” he hissed.
“I’m trying,” she hissed back.
“Well, try harder!” Fuuma looked at the wall contemplatively. Kakyou was behind it; he knew that much. But the question was, could he get through, and get to Kakyou, before Hinoto crushed the entire Dreamscape? He somewhat doubted it. He gave Kanoe a surreptitious shove forward.
“Hinoto, don’t you see that he’s using you?” Kanoe asked angrily, gesturing to Takeshi. “He has nothing to do with this! He’s supposed to be dead! The future isn’t supposed to shift so suddenly!”
Takeshi stepped forward. “The future will do whatever I want it to,” he said smoothly, standing right in front of her. “And you will not stop me.”
“You have no right to -- ” Kanoe’s words were abruptly cut short as he put both his hands around her throat and, calmly and efficiently, snapped her neck.
The reflected Hinoto, trapped beneath the glass, let out an inaudible scream.
Fuuma choked. “What the -- ”
Takeshi turned to him.
“Right, see you later.” Fuuma hauled ass out of the Dreamscape and opened his eyes in the hospital room. Kanoe had slid bonelessly out of her chair and was crumpled on the floor. Fuuma reached down to check her pulse, and found nothing. “Kazuki,” he said, feeling numb, “get Atsuko.”
Nataku looked down at Kanoe’s body for a minute, then nodded and left the room. Fuuma just sat there, too shocked to think. Hinoto had just let Takeshi kill her own sister. She was nuts. They were both nuts, and he was screwed.
Atsuko came hurrying in. Fuuma explained the situation as best as he could, though he did it with a lot of stammering. Atsuko got a doctor and Kanoe’s body was taken from the room.
Fuuma looked at Nataku. “I didn’t mean for her to die,” he said helplessly.
Nataku nodded. “It would have been silly if you had meant to, so obviously you didn’t.”
Fuuma just stared at him for a minute. “Oh hell,” he said dejectedly, slumping back into his chair. “Now what the fuck do I do?”
“You find somebody else to help.” Nataku leaned down and gave Fuuma a hug. He had seen Kakyou do it quite often, and it usually seemed to make Fuuma feel better, so he was going on that theory.
“Right.” Fuuma kissed Kakyou’s forehead. “Stay with Kakyou, okay?”
“Okay.”
~~~~
After wandering around vaguely for about an hour, Fuuma admitted that he had absolutely no idea where to find Hisoka, and went to the only person he knew who might have an answer. He was cursing Seishirou for moving to the outskirts of Tokyo. Now it was almost an hour’s drive anytime he wanted to see him.
“You could’ve called,” Seishirou said dryly, standing back to let him in.
“What, to make sure you weren’t on a hot date?” Fuuma asked, cranky. “Where’s your skinny onmyouji, anyway?”
“Looking for the guy who summoned up Takeshi.” Seishirou paused. “Or woman, I suppose. Equal opportunity profession and all that.”
Fuuma sighed. “Has he had any luck?”
“He called around dinner time to say that he thought he had a lead. I mean, he couldn’t leave until afternoon because you concussed Kamui.”
Fuuma blinked. “I did? Oopsie.”
Seishirou sighed. “Don’t tell me you drove all the way out here to inquire after Subaru. What did you need?”
“I’m looking for Hisoka and Tsuzuki. Specifically Tsuzuki.”
“Tsuzuki’s in the Meifu. You aren’t going to have much luck.”
“Yes, well, I’m not having much luck anyway,” Fuuma snapped. “For one thing, Kanoe’s dead.”
Seishirou blinked. “Dead?”
“Dead,” Fuuma confirmed. “She was trying to distract Hinoto while I rescued Kakyou and Takeshi killed her. Just snapped her neck right in front of me. I’m out of Dreamgazers, except for my dead sister, and my head aches.”
“Sit down.” Seishirou half-shoved him into a chair and gave him a mug of tea. “What did you need the Shinigami for?”
“Tsuzuki is the only one with a snowball’s chance in hell against Hinoto and Takeshi. I need his help if I’m going to rescue Kakyou.”
Seishirou sipped his own mug of tea thoughtfully. “Tsuzuki won’t be able to fight Takeshi.”
“Well, at least Takeshi won’t snap his neck,” Fuuma replied. “I don’t think.” He sighed. “Look, all I have to go on is some cryptic advice from Kotori. She said that the most prevalent future right now is Takeshi killing my ass and then killing Kamui on the Final Day. Poof, end of world. I asked how I could change it and she reminded me that the Shinigami move outside of Fate. I have to ask. I can’t just leave Kakyou there.”
“Well, Hisoka was here about an hour ago, looking for you,” Seishirou said.
Fuuma’s head thunked against the table.
“He said something about wanting to make sure you didn’t kill Hinoto, and if I saw you, to give you this number.” Seishirou extended a piece of paper to him. “Apparently Hisoka has joined the technological revolution and gotten himself a cell phone.”
“I wonder who they bill that to,” Fuuma said thoughtfully.
“I have no idea.”
“Well, thanks. Can I use your phone?”
“Be my guest.”
Fuuma picked up the phone and dialed the number. “Yo, Hisoka, it’s Fuuma. You were looking for me?”
“Yeah, I was. Where are you?”
“At Seishirou’s.”
“Oh, for the love of -- when did you get there?”
“Ten minutes ago, or thereabouts,” Fuuma said. “Look, I need to see you. I tried to get Kakyou out of the Dreamscape and I only ended up getting Kanoe killed. Hinoto has surrounded Kakyou’s Dreamscape with her own and she’s slowly crushing it. There’s got to be some way you can help; Tsuzuki could face off Hinoto, right?”
“Tsuzuki couldn’t face off an angry housecat right now,” Hisoka said, sounding annoyed. “Look, I’m back at my hotel room -- I was trying to get in touch with some people. Do you know where that is?”
“Not a clue, I’m afraid.”
“Well, you’re the only person that doesn’t.” Hisoka gave him directions and then hung up.
“Right,” Fuuma said. “Thanks, Seishirou.”
“Be careful,” Seishirou told him. “I really don’t want Takeshi to end up being the Dark Kamui. I’m sure he’d try to make me fight. Or kill me.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
~~~~
It was fairly late when Subaru pulled up in front of the address he’d been given. Out of all the onmyouji on the list his grandmother had given him, he had narrowed the list down through the process of elimination. This was the last one. It was one of the slums in Tokyo; the apartment looked one step away from being condemned. He shivered slightly and knocked. There was no doorbell.
After a long second, a malnourished man opened the door. He was doing his best to look decent, but not doing a very good job of it. “Yes?” he asked, straightening up when he saw a potential customer.
Subaru smiled disarmingly. “I was looking for an onmyouji,” he said. “I hear you’re the man to see.”
“You’ve come to the right man.” He stood back to let him in. “My name’s Ikedo. What can I do for you?”
Subaru waited until he’d been seated in an office with a cup of watery tea. “Have you heard of a man named Muraki Kazutaka?”
Ikedo paled slightly, then regained control over himself. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“Have you by any chance worked for him recently?” Subaru asked coolly.
“I don’t disclose the names of my clients, Mr. . .?”
“Shirou,” Subaru lied, picking the first name he thought of. He didn’t think it would help for Ikedo to know who he was.
“Shirou-san, then,” Ikedo said. “Non-disclosure agreements and all that.” He smiled hopefully, then looked down as a five-year-old came into the room. “Not now, Toya. I have a customer.”
The five-year-old’s face fell. “But . . . Mariko’s coughing a whole bunch and asking for you again . . .”
Ikedo shifted uncomfortably. “Tell her I’ll be up soon, okay?”
Toya nodded and skittered out of the room.
“Sorry about that,” Ikedo said.
“Not a problem at all,” Subaru said graciously. “Is your daughter ill?”
“Yeah,” Ikedo said, and quickly changed the subject. “Now, what was it you came to me for?”
“Look,” Subaru said with a sigh. “I know you raised Takeshi from the dead for Muraki, and it was a really bad idea, and I need to know how you did it so I can undo it before a major disaster happens. Okay?”
Ikedo was very pale. “I didn’t . . . uh . . . well, that is . . . how did you know that?”
“You seem like a nice guy,” Subaru said. “What could Muraki have possibly offered you?”
“Well . . . he’s a doctor, and Mariko is so sick but I don’t have the money to give her proper medical care . . . Muraki-san looked at her and said he could cure her if I did a few things for him . . . just some wards and one soul being resurrected; I didn’t think was so bad!”
Subaru sighed. “Generally speaking, you should let the dead rest.”
“And let my daughter become one of them?” Ikedo challenged. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Sumeragi Subaru, thirteenth Head.” Subaru bowed slightly.
Ikedo stared at him. “Oh, hell.”
“So do you think you could tell me how you did it?”
Ikedo looked away. “Am I going to be punished for this?”
“No, on two conditions,” Subaru said. “One: you stop working for Muraki, and two: you tell me how you did it.”
“If I stop working for Muraki, my daughter will die.”
“I’m not going to let that happen,” Subaru said. “I’ll make sure you have enough money to take care of her. You’re powerful enough to make a small fortune; you’re just in the wrong place for it.”
Ikedo gave him a suspicious look. “So you’re, what, going to give me enough money to move?”
“Yes,” Subaru stated.
“Oh.”
“Now tell me how you did it.”
“Let me get the spell.”
~~~~
Fuuma walked into Hisoka’s hotel room without knocking; he had left the door open. Hisoka was on the phone when he got there. He hung up just after Fuuma walked in. “I hear you had fun at Hinoto’s earlier,” he said dryly. “You concussed Kamui.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Fuuma said impatiently.
“What happened with Kanoe?” Hisoka asked.
Fuuma explained what had happened, starting with Kotori’s visit and working his way through his conversation with Seishirou. “So now I figure if Tsuzuki goes to distract Hinoto, I might have a fighting chance at getting Kakyou out.”
“I’d say you have to worry more about Takeshi than about Hinoto,” Hisoka said. “Given that he’s the one who snapped Kanoe’s neck.”
“But Takeshi will go for Tsuzuki before me.”
“Oh, that makes it a good idea.”
“Look, I’m sorry that your happy little love affair has been broken up, but I’m not having the best day myself, and -- ”
“Shut the hell up,” Hisoka interrupted. “You’ll understand when you see Tsuzuki. I have no idea if he’s going to be able to even stand up, let alone face Hinoto, let alone face Takeshi. You of all people should understand what he’s going through -- he killed Takeshi once, in spite of loving him, he can’t do it again. And neither of us has the right to ask that of him.”
Fuuma sank onto one of the beds, holding his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I just don’t know what else to do.”
“I know the feeling,” Hisoka said. “Let’s go visit Tsuzuki and see what he thinks; but either way we’re going to have to wait until morning. It’s too late now.”
Unfortunately, Tsuzuki was asleep when they got there, and Hisoka adamantly refused to let Fuuma wake him. He insisted that Kakyou would be fine until morning.
~~~~
“So what did you find out?” Seishirou asked Subaru, putting a plate of food and fresh mug of tea in front of him. He somewhat doubted that Subaru had eaten dinner while out. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would occur to the Sumeragi. “Anything useful?”
“I found the person that did it and I got the spell,” Subaru said, tired but triumphant.
“Well, good,” Seishirou said. “So can we just exorcise him and fix this mess?”
“Not that lucky,” Subaru said. “He’s actually alive. Not just a matter of possessing an object, so we can’t just remove his soul from it.”
“Oh.” Seishirou made a face. “That means we have to kill him.”
“Basically, yes.”
“Peachy.”
“Isn’t it though?” Subaru started to eat his food. “Where’s Seimei?”
“He went to spend the night at Teiji’s,” Seishirou replied.
“Aren’t they a bit . . . close? For cousins, I mean.”
Seishirou laughed. “Teiji is Senichi’s stepson. He and Seimei aren’t related by blood. And yes, from what I can tell, they’re quite close.”
“Ohh,” Subaru said. “That makes me feel a lot better.”
Seishirou rolled his eyes. “I tell you that we’ve got the house all to ourselves, and the first thing you wonder is whether or not my son is committing incest.”
“Well, I didn’t want to phrase it quite like that,” Subaru said, laughing.
“I’m still insulted that you ignored me.”
“Oh, stop it.” Subaru bopped him on the nose.
Seishirou smiled. “By the way . . . I have something for you.”
“Oh?” Subaru asked, looking curious.
Seishirou nodded and went into his bedroom. He came out a minute later with two large boxes, both wrapped in colorful paper with bows on top. “Happy birthday,” he announced, putting them on the chair next to Subaru. He had a large grin that looked very out of place.
Subaru smiled. “My stalker comes through again, with my real birthday,” he said, reaching for one of the boxes.
“You didn’t think I’d never figure out when it was, did you?” Seishirou asked, amused. “I knew damn well you’d lied to me about it.”
“You lied to me too,” Subaru said. His grandmother had taught him to never reveal his true birthday to anyone; it was one of the things used in many spells that could be used against him. For the same reason, he had assumed, correctly, that Seishirou had lied about his birthday as well. “Can I open it?”
“Sure. And not precisely.”
“What do you mean, not precisely?” Subaru asked, his hands pausing in the act of taking off the bow.
Seishirou shrugged. “I don’t know when my birthday is.”
Subaru just looked at him. “Really?”
“Aa. Kaasan never told me. She told me it was in November. We celebrated it on a different day each year. She said it was safer for me that way. Are you going to open that or not?”
“Yes, of course I’m going to open it,” Subaru said, making an inward vow to find out when Seishirou’s birthday was. November was only a few days away, after all. He unwrapped the first box to find a few layers of black cloth inside. He picked up the first to find a soft, stretchy black turtleneck. “Going with the classics, Seishirou-san?”
“Just keep going.”
“Okay, okay.” Subaru set the shirt down on another chair and pulled out the next layer. It was a pair of black suede pants. He could tell that they would fit him precisely, and leave not an inch to spare. “I’m not even going to ask how you know my pants size this well,” he said, and reached for the last item in the box. It was a long black coat; not a trenchcoat but more of a long suitcoat. “Okay, I’m impressed,” he said.
Seishirou grinned. “You’ll have to wear it for me later.”
“Of course, Seishirou-san.” Subaru picked up the second box and looked nervously at the air holes that were poked in it. “The box is moving,” he announced.
“They have a tendency, yes.”
“I see. May I open it?”
“Go ahead.”
Subaru opened it and stared. “It’s adorable!” he announced, pulling the kitten out and snuggling it. He noticed that it was all black, except for a white patch around its right eye. “Seishirou, you’re a strange man.”
“I just saw it and thought of you,” Seishirou said, smirking.
Subaru laughed and snuggled the kitten, which purred contentedly. “What should I name it?”
“Patch,” Seishirou said immediately. He had obviously given this prior thought.
“Okay,” Subaru agreed with a smile.
“I know it seems rather . . . uh . . . ill-timed, given recent events, but I couldn’t just ignore your birthday,” Seishirou said.
“Thank you,” Subaru said, leaning up for a kiss.
Seishirou obliged, then said, “And it’s already trained, too. The kitten, I mean.”
“How’d you do that?”
“I paid the owners a lot of money.”
“Of course you did.”
~~~~
Fuuma returned to the land of the living and spent the night in Kakyou’s room. Nataku pestered him into eating something and then went home. Hisoka had arranged with Fuuma to meet him at the hotel room early the next morning. Fuuma had no trouble being on time, as he didn’t sleep in the slightest.
He looked around wonderingly at where he found himself. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that the Shinigami had apartments just like everyone else. It was a truly bizarre concept. Did they pay rent? Buy groceries? Really, being a Shinigami seemed just like being alive, except that you healed. And could blow more shit up.
Not a bad gig if he could get it. He was beginning to wonder how.
“Ne, Hisoka,” he said, as they walked down the apartment corridor.
“What?”
“How does one become a Shinigami?”
Hisoka gave him a curious look. “Generally, those with unfinished business are recruited by somebody or other . . . I’m not sure who, exactly. Konoe-kachou recruited me.”
“But what if you die, knowing that you want to be a Shinigami?”
Hisoka looked amused. “Getting ideas, Fuuma?”
“Hell, if I’m going to die, this is the way for me.”
Hisoka shrugged. “You haven’t seen what happens to the rest of the people who die. There is a heaven, you know. This is more like purgatory. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Fuuma blinked at him. “I guess I don’t know. I’m grasping at straws; give me a break.”
Hisoka sighed and stopped in front of a door. A gentle knock brought no answer, so he pushed the door open and went in. Tatsumi had fallen asleep in the armchair. Hisoka motioned for Fuuma to try to tiptoe past without waking him, then knocked on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” Tsuzuki’s voice, somewhat quieter than usual, called back. Hisoka pushed the door open to see Tsuzuki curled up on the bed. He wasn’t really in his pajamas; he was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants -- but he definitely wasn’t dressed to be going anywhere.
“Ohayo,” Hisoka said, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. Fuuma hovered in the main room uncertainly. “How are you feeling?”
“Less numb,” Tsuzuki said.
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s just a thing.”
Hisoka smiled slightly. “Are you up to seeing Fuuma?”
Tsuzuki nodded. “I think I can manage that.”
Fuuma overheard this and walked into the room. “Yo,” he said.
Tsuzuki blinked at him. “You don’t look too good,” he said.
“I basically haven’t slept for two days,” Fuuma said brightly. “How are you?”
“I am,” Tsuzuki said.
“Well, I should hope so.” Fuuma shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Well, hey, I was wondering if you could do me a bit of a favor.”
“Depends on what it is,” Tsuzuki said with a wan smile. “I don’t think I’m all that useful at the moment.”
Fuuma plopped into one of the chairs in the room and explained the whole, long complicated mess, everything that Kotori had told him included. “So that’s what’s going on,” he said. “And I didn’t know who else to come to for help.” He looked at Tsuzuki imploringly. “Please . . . I can’t just let Kakyou die.”
“No,” Tsuzuki said. “You really can’t.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’ll help, but I don’t promise I’ll be any use against Takeshi.”