Chapter Thirty-Four
Subaru knew damn well that Kamui had only been acting like a dick because he hadn’t wanted to show how worried he was. This amused him terribly. As soon as Fuuma was safely in the hospital, Subaru called Seishirou and told him what had happened. Seishirou promised to call Kakyou and let him know. That promised to be a fun task.
Kakyou was very calm, though understandably displeased. He got all the information from Seishirou, then took a taxi to the hospital and found Fuuma’s room. Nataku was still sitting with him.
“How’s Fuuma?” Kakyou asked, walking in.
“He’s got a lot of holes,” Nataku replied.
Kakyou looked pained. “Do you know who his doctor is?” he asked, judging Nataku’s information to be useless.
“Dr. Sakurazuka.”
Kakyou put a hand to his forehead. “Of course. The ubiquitous Sakurazukas.”
“It’s a common name,” Nataku stated. “His doctor is Sakurazuka Sanemi.”
“I’ll go find her,” Kakyou said, and left the room. The woman he eventually tracked down didn’t look much like Seishirou, but he figured she was not a direct relative. Subaru or Seishirou must have called her to avoid the questions that would have to be answered.
“Hi,” Sanemi said. “Sakurazuka Sanemi. You must be Kakyou-san, ne? Seishirou told me you’d be coming.”
Well, that answered that. “That was nice of him.”
She nodded. “I’m not even a Sakurazuka, technically, but it makes it easier if we all use the Clan name professionally.”
“That’s great. That’s wonderful. What’s wrong with Fuuma?”
“In order of importance, or chronologically?” Sanemi asked dryly.
“Whichever makes you feel better.” Kakyou was getting cranky.
“He’s got a bunch of puncture wounds in his back, one of which was deep enough to hit a lung, two broken ribs, three cracked ribs, a gash in his upper arm, and a concussion.”
Kakyou again looked pained. “Is he going to be all right?”
“Yeah, he’ll be okay. He’s lost a lot of blood, obviously, but we’ve got an IV in replacing that. Your friends got to him in time, but I won’t lie and say it wasn’t close.”
“When’s he likely to wake up?”
“Not for a while. He needs surgery for the punctured lung and cracked ribs. That’ll be soon. He won’t be awake until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”
“Is Nataku all right?”
“He’s got a bump on the back of his head, but it’s not bad enough to be a concussion. He’s fine.”
Kakyou thudded into a chair. “I’m sure there’s something else I should be saying or doing at this point, but I can’t for the life of me think of what.”
“Go home, Kakyou-san,” Sanemi said. “And take Nataku with you. Fuuma will be going in for surgery very soon, we’ll call you when it’s over. Or stay here. It doesn’t really matter.”
“I’d rather stay,” Kakyou said.
He went back to Fuuma’s room, or more accurately, the little curtained off area in the emergency room that Fuuma was still residing. It was only about fifteen minutes before Sanemi and two other doctors showed up and carted him away. They showed Nataku and Kakyou a room where they could wait.
Nataku tugged on Kakyou’s sleeve. “Is Daddy going to be okay?”
Kakyou pulled him into a hug. “Yes,” he said firmly, though he wasn’t sure if he was hugging the bioroid for his comfort or for Nataku’s.
They had been waiting about twenty minutes when Seishirou showed up with a bag of takeout in one hand. “Hey,” he said. “I didn’t think you would remember to eat if no one brought you food.” He shoved the bag at Kakyou.
“Thank you,” Kakyou said.
“You’ve gotten much nicer,” Nataku stated, peering at Seishirou. “Your eye isn’t scary at all now.”
“You’ve got a real thing for that, don’t you,” Seishirou said.
“I wouldn’t call it a thing,” Nataku said.
Seishirou sighed and turned his attention to Kakyou. “How’s Fuuma?”
“Not good, but I’m told he’ll recover,” Kakyou said.
“Yeah, he’s got lots of holes,” Nataku said. “It’s just not good at all.”
Seishirou coughed. “I hope you didn’t mind that I called my aunt in. I figured Subaru-kun wouldn’t want to deal with the police.”
“No, we appreciate it,” Kakyou said. “Is there any field of industry you people aren’t involved in?”
Seishirou considered it for a long minute. “Food service,” he finally said.
“Good to know,” Kakyou said, picking at his food.
“Anyway,” Seishirou said brightly. “A few of us were thinking we were going to try to hunt down Takeshi while he’s licking his wounds, maybe do away with him, so I’ve got to go.”
“Who are the few of you?” Kakyou asked curiously.
“Subaru-kun and some of my relatives,” Seishirou said.
“Ask Satsuki,” Nataku piped up. “She watches everything.”
Seishirou nodded. “Good idea. I’ll come back later and let you know what happens.”
~~~~
Muraki glanced up as Takeshi dragged himself through the door. “Konban wa,” he said pleasantly, ignoring the blood that Takeshi was pooling on his floor. “Something I can help you with, Takeshi-san?”
Takeshi gave him a dirty look. “I think it’s pretty obvious that I need some help,” he stated.
Muraki stood up and pushed his chair in, then took a long drink of his coffee. He was moving slowly on purpose, but eventually gestured for Takeshi to sit in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “How did this happen?” he asked, motioning for Takeshi to take off his shirt so he could examine the wounds.
“I had a run-in with the kamuis,” Takeshi said. He winced as Muraki probed carefully at the wound in his shoulder.
“You really should seek real medical attention,” Muraki said. “I’ll be right back. Lie down on the floor. This needs stitches.”
Takeshi did as he was told, though he didn’t look pleased about it. Muraki came back with a needle that he sterilized with rubbing alcohol, and threaded it with thick embroidery thread. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes,” Muraki answered, and began to swab the wound in the disinfectant. Takeshi bit his lips to keep from crying out. Muraki stitched up the wound effectively, then had him roll over. “You’re lucky,” he said. “It didn’t hit anything important or pierce all the way through.”
“Lucky.” Takeshi sat up, rubbing at his shoulder. He lifted his arm while Muraki bandaged it.
Muraki checked the rest of his wounds and found them to be minor, except for the large bruise on the back of his head. “Hit a wall, did you?” he asked.
Takeshi nodded.
“You have cracked ribs,” Muraki reported, “as well as a sprained ankle.” He took out more bandages and bound Takeshi’s ribs tightly to keep them from being further injured, then did the same for his ankle. “Now,” he said pleasantly, “let’s talk payment.”
“I’m not sure what I have to offer,” Takeshi said. “I don’t have any money.”
“I brought you here for a reason,” Muraki said. “Surely you’ve managed to guess what that is?”
“That child is remarkably difficult to kill,” Takeshi stated.
“No he isn’t,” Muraki replied coolly. “You just won’t go through Tsuzuki-san to do it.”
“You’re correct. I will not hurt Asato.”
Muraki smiled. “That’s fine. I don’t want Tsuzuki-san to be injured either.”
Takeshi looked at him in loathing. “Nor am I going to turn him over to you.”
Muraki just shrugged. Takeshi would be dead in a matter of weeks, and he knew it. As long as he got Hisoka out of the way before that, Muraki didn’t care what he wanted. “You could kill the boy if you wanted. You just have to find him when he isn’t with Tsuzuki-san. How difficult can that be?” He gave Takeshi a steady look. “I think you don’t want to kill him, because you know Tsuzuki-san loves him.”
Takeshi stood up to go.
“Go home and lie down,” Muraki said. “But don’t sleep until morning, or you may not wake up. That’s a bad concussion.”
“Thank you for your assistance.”
“I don’t want your thanks,” Muraki said. “I want Kurosaki Hisoka dead, in as painful a way as possible.”
“Well, it’s good that we want the same thing then,” Takeshi said, and then he was gone.
~~~~
Seishirou reported to Kakyou around dawn that they hadn’t been able to find any trace of Takeshi. Kakyou reported back that the surgery had gone fine and Fuuma was expected to be awake sometime that morning. He was nodding at Fuuma’s bedside just before lunch, when his eyes finally opened.
“Kakyou . . .?” he murmured, lifting one hand to his eyes and rubbing at them.
Kakyou sat bolt upright. “I was so worried!” he said, knowing that he sounded sappy and not caring. He reached out and took Fuuma’s hand in both of his own. “I love you,” he said, lifting Fuuma’s hand and rubbing it against his cheek.
Fuuma managed a smile. “Love you too . . . Nataku . . . I hit him . . .”
“He’s okay,” Kakyou assured him. “I sent him home to get some rest.”
“Good.” Fuuma closed his eyes. “I hurt all over.”
“I’ll see if I can get you some more painkillers.” Kakyou reached over and pressed the call button.
“What’s wrong with me . . .?”
Kakyou listed off what Sanemi had told him.
“Oh,” Fuuma said, frowning slightly. “I really got my ass handed to me, didn’t I.”
“Well, at least that wasn’t damaged,” Kakyou said, smiling. “That would’ve been a shame.”
“Yeah, true.” Fuuma managed a laugh, then winced in pain and coughed slightly. “Owwie.”
“No more laughing.”
“Is Kamui okay?”
“Yeah,” Kakyou said. “He’s fine.”
“Good.” Fuuma turned his face to one side and breathed a slight sigh of relief. “Do you know why you didn’t see this coming?” he asked sleepily. There was no accusation in his voice, just curiosity, and a bit of fear for the future. If they couldn’t predict Takeshi’s actions, they might be in more trouble than he’d thought.
Kakyou ran one of his hands through Fuuma’s hair. “I just don’t see him,” he said. “Like I don’t see Hisoka and Tsuzuki. I think it’s because he’s not supposed to be here.”
“Aa.” There was a brief pause while a nurse came in and administered more painkillers, then bustled out again. “World’s going all fuzzy,” Fuuma said, his voice slurring.
“It’s the morphine talking.”
There was a slight pause. “Kakyou . . .?”
“Yes?”
“Please . . . don’t go anywhere . . . okay?”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I’m scared.”
“You don’t need to be,” Kakyou said, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “We’re all doing our best to take care of you. I’ll stay right here.”
“Thank you.” Fuuma closed his eyes and slept.
~~~~
“Tell me, Tatsumi,” Hisoka said wearily, standing back to let him in, “how did you get the job of being the bearer of bad news?”
Tatsumi rolled his eyes and stepped inside, toeing off his shoes. “Exceptional bad luck. How’s Tsuzuki-san?”
“He’s not doing too badly,” Hisoka said, with a faint smile. “He’s certainly not up to par, but I did get him to eat some chocolate cake. He even appeared to enjoy it, too.”
“Did you tell him about Yuzuriha-san?”
“Yes.”
“How did he take it?”
“He didn’t take it too badly. He was understandably upset, but he never really met Yuzuriha, and it’s not like she’s lingering here unhappily. If her name was in the Kiseki, then she was supposed to die one way or another. This probably wasn’t it, but . . .”
Tatsumi nodded. “Do you want to hear my most current bad news, then? It’s less bad than the last bad news.”
“Oh, go for it. Anybody dead this time?”
“No.”
“Well, what a pleasant change.” Hisoka motioned for Tatsumi to follow him into the kitchen, where he got him a mug of tea and they both sat down. Tsuzuki was sitting there with an open container of frosting and a spoon. He looked up, saw Tatsumi, and looked vaguely guilty, putting the frosting down. “Want some tea, Tsuzuki?” Hisoka asked, handing Tatsumi his mug.
“Yes, please.”
Hisoka got him a mug, then one for himself, then sat down. “All right, so what’s happened now?”
“Takeshi-san apparently decided to try to get rid of Fuuma-san.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Tsuzuki stated, and waited for more details.
“They got in a rather cataclysmic fight,” Tatsumi stated. “Takeshi-san has more practice with his powers, but he hasn’t used them for about eighty years, and of course Fuuma-san was defending his life, which gave him an added . . . incentive. After the mass property damage, they’re both still alive.”
“I’m glad Fuuma is okay,” Tsuzuki said. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about Takeshi, so said nothing.
“I said alive,” Tatsumi said. “I said nothing about being okay.”
“Oh, great,” Hisoka said with a sigh.
“Fuuma-san is in the hospital; he’ll be in recovery for a couple weeks. I don’t know the specifics of his injuries, except that they’re serious. Takeshi-san was also seriously injured, but no one was able to find him afterwards. His soul has not returned, so it’s safe to say that he’s still out there somewhere.” Tatsumi sipped his tea. “Sumeragi-san and Sakurazuka-san went out looking for him, but there was no sign of him.”
Tsuzuki stiffened suddenly.
“What is?” Hisoka asked him.
“He’s using wards to hide,” Tsuzuki said quietly. “I taught him how to do that. When we were both alive, and . . . and people hated us. He needed to be able to protect himself.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Hisoka put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You certainly had no way of seeing eighty years into the future.”
“I still feel guilty,” Tsuzuki said. Hisoka just sighed.
“He must have gotten medical attention somewhere,” Tatsumi said. “Which, of course, leaves Muraki as an option, someone we could question.”
“He wouldn’t tell us anything.” Hisoka shrugged. “I don’t see the point.”
Tatsumi looked between the two of them. “Why do you think he’s done this?” he asked curiously.
“Because he wants me,” Tsuzuki stated flatly.
“I fail to see how this is going to end in him getting you,” Tatsumi said. “It’s not as if Takeshi is going to let Muraki walk off with you.”
“That’s true,” Hisoka said, “but Muraki made Takeshi to die in a few weeks. Whatever he wants Takeshi to do, it’s something that won’t take him very long.” He had a sinking feeling he knew what Muraki was up to, but didn’t want to upset Tsuzuki by telling him. He would just make sure he was armed, wherever he went.
Tsuzuki nodded slightly. He was basically just holding out for Takeshi to die, which made him feel terribly cold-hearted. Then again, it wasn’t as if he had a ton of other options.
“I’m going to go check on Fuuma,” Hisoka said, standing up. “Tsuzuki, will you be okay for a while?”
“I’ll go with you,” Tsuzuki said, standing up.
“Okay,” Hisoka said. “I’ll probably drop by and visit Seimei afterwards, though.”
“That’s okay.” Tsuzuki managed a smile. “I know how to get home alone.”
~~~~
Fuuma was slightly less drugged when the Shinigami came by, though he was still in a lot of pain and was complaining that there was nothing on television. Kakyou had fallen asleep in the chair next to the bed, so they all kept their voices down to avoid waking him up. Tsuzuki got a blanket and put it over Kakyou.
They reported to Fuuma that there had been no luck in the search for Takeshi, promised him to protect Kamui if he needed it, and left. Tsuzuki went home; Hisoka went over to Seimei’s to visit.
“Guess what we’re going to do?” Seimei greeted him with a large grin.
Hisoka blinked at him, politely blank. “What?”
“We’re going to throw a surprise birthday party for my dad.”
Hisoka continued to blink. “You’re not inviting me, are you? I don’t think he would appreciate my presence.”
“I think he’s over being angry at you,” Seimei said. “It’s going to be on the eleventh.”
Hisoka shrugged. “I’ll try to stop by. It’s been busy, though.”
“Yeah, I know. Dad’s still asleep from trying to hunt Takeshi-san all night. Actually, I think Subaru-san is still asleep as well.”
“Bully for them,” Hisoka said, yawning. “I feel like I haven’t slept in days. I’m afraid that if I leave Tsuzuki alone for more than ten minutes, he’ll do something stupid.”
“Such as what?”
“Oh, I dunno . . . go out looking for Takeshi, kill himself, one of those types of things.”
“I thought Tsuzuki-san was smarter than that.”
“He is, but he doesn’t think clearly during a crisis.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I just thought I would drop by and say hi. I need to go pick up something for Tsuzuki, then I’m going back home. I’ll probably be around tomorrow.”
“Feel free to stop by,” Seimei said. “I miss you; you don’t come over as often.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Hisoka managed a smile. He didn’t want to bring up the whole ‘in two months this case will be over and then I won’t be here at all anymore’ issue. He didn’t really think Seimei needed that.
“Well, good luck.”
Hisoka smiled and said goodbye, then left the compound. He was heading for the nearest sweets store before heading back to pick up some snacks for Tsuzuki. If it was all he would eat, Hisoka was going to make sure he got a lot of it. Maybe some of those cinnamon buns that he liked so much. Those were at least starch, if not nutritious. There were even eggs in there somewhere . . .
“Konban wa, Kurosaki-san.”
Hisoka whirled around and groaned as he saw Takeshi step out from behind a tree. He was a good twenty minutes away from the compound, so he couldn’t count on any help from them. “Konban wa,” he said, and kept walking.
Takeshi stepped in front of him. “Will you give up Asato?” he asked, his tone very polite. “Or am I going to have to kill you?”
Hisoka half-smiled. “The latter is what you were hired for, isn’t it?”
“It is what I was brought back to life for,” Takeshi confirmed. “But I don’t feel the need to take orders from anybody.”
Hisoka gave him a long, steady look. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I know you love Tsuzuki. And I know how much Tsuzuki loves you. But you aren’t supposed to be here, and even if you kill me, you won’t be able to have him.”
“You don’t know Asato very well, do you?” Takeshi asked. “He’s one of those people that always needs somebody.”
“Yes, he is,” Hisoka said. “But you’re not going to live past the Final Day. You’ll never have him.”
Takeshi lifted his hand, energy gathering in the palm.
“You know what?” Hisoka asked, just standing there. “You have a real problem with debate. Any time someone stumps you, you try to kill them.”
“I used to just walk away, but this works better,” Takeshi said. He let loose the energy. Hisoka tossed a few ofuda and set up a barrier. The energy ricocheted off, but the barrier shattered. “You can’t win,” Takeshi told him.
“Neither can you,” Hisoka replied calmly.
Takeshi let out another blast of energy, knocking him backwards. He walked forward and nudged Hisoka’s still form, then picked him up by the throat, holding him so his feet were dangling off the ground. “Apparently I can,” he said.
“Apparently you don’t know me very well,” Hisoka gasped out.
Takeshi had time to glance down and see the gun Hisoka had leveled at his chest, and he had time to register faint surprise and snatch a single ofuda, before Hisoka pulled the trigger. The partial barrier he had erected deflected some of the force of the bullet, but not the bullet itself. Takeshi dropped Hisoka and sagged to his knees, looking shocked. “You . . .” he managed.
“I’m sorry.” Hisoka was lying on the ground where Takeshi had dropped him. There were tears running down his cheeks. “I can’t let you take him away from me.”
He looked up as Tsuzuki appeared next to him. There was a moment’s indecision, in which Tsuzuki debated his options. He was completely and utterly unsure of what to do.
Before he could make a decision, Muraki walked out of a nearby alley. “Too bad, Takeshi,” he said, shrugging. “You almost made it.” He picked Takeshi up by the arm and managed to support the man. Muraki gave Hisoka a long look. “I’ve underestimated you again,” he said, sounding vaguely amused. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen another time.”
With that, he turned and walked away, carrying Takeshi with him.
Hisoka managed to make it to his knees. Tsuzuki, given that his other options had been taken away, walked over to him. Hisoka flung his arms around Tsuzuki’s legs and started to cry. “I’m sorry,” he managed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Tsuzuki knelt down and pulled Hisoka into his arms, hugging him tightly. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he murmured.
“I nearly killed him. I may have killed him.” Hisoka hid his face in Tsuzuki’s shoulder.
For some reason, Tsuzuki was only able to remain calm when someone else was panicking. He felt quite calm now, and even held it together enough to bring Hisoka home. They landed in the Meifu in his bedroom. Hisoka didn’t appear to have even noticed their change of surroundings.
“It was okay to defend yourself,” Tsuzuki told Hisoka.
Hisoka realized he was still holding the gun in one hand. He dropped it on the floor as if it had burned him. “Remind me to give that back to Seishirou later,” he mumbled.
“Okay,” Tsuzuki said, still hugging him and kissing him on the forehead. He had a vague suspicion that Hisoka’s brain had just shut down from shock. There wasn’t much he could do about that, so he continued to hold him.
“I was so afraid you’d hate me,” Hisoka murmured. “But I couldn’t let him kill me. I don’t know why not.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tsuzuki said firmly.
“But if I was dead . . .” Hisoka’s voice trailed off. He had a feeling that if he said what he was thinking, Tsuzuki might get annoyed. They’d already had this conversation, after all.
“I wouldn’t be any happier with him, knowing that he had killed you,” Tsuzuki said, smoothing his hair.
“But knowing that I killed him is okay?”
“I don’t see it that way,” Tsuzuki said. “Takeshi tried to kill you. You were defending yourself. It’s different. Even if it’s not different, let me see it that way. He shouldn’t be here.”
Hisoka finally gave in and snuggled into Tsuzuki’s arms. “Okay,” he whispered.
“Were you actually listening?” Tsuzuki asked suspiciously.
“I dunno. I didn’t get you any sweets. I’m sorry.”
Tsuzuki just sort of blinked at him. He had come to the conclusion that Hisoka’s brain had turned to ‘random mode.’ “I don’t need sweets,” Tsuzuki said. “I have you.”
Hisoka paused. “Tsuzuki . . . that’s so sappy. I think I might throw up.”
“At least I know your brain is working again.”
~~~~
“Subaru-kun, are you sure about this?” Seishirou asked nervously, following Subaru through a large set of gates.
“No, but I’m gonna pretend I am,” Subaru said calmly.
Seishirou stopped in his tracks. “That’s it. I’m going home.” He started to turn around.
Subaru grabbed him by the collar. “Come on, you big baby.”
“But your grandmother is scary,” Seishirou whined.
“If I survived, you can survive. Don’t forget, she raised me.”
Seishirou gave him a look. “You’re scary too.”
Subaru just heaved a disgusted sigh and continued to drag Seishirou through the compound. “We need to look through the spellbooks, and I’m going to need your help, but she won’t let you in until she’s met you. Now would you like to enter this door with dignity, or should I drag you through it?”
Seishirou shook Subaru off, straightened his jacket, and cleared his throat. “Okay, now I’m ready. Oh, wait. Should I put the sunglasses on or leave them off? Which will piss her off more?”
“I really don’t think it matters.”
“Okay then.” Seishirou pulled out the sunglasses and put them on. He followed Subaru into the room. Seishirou had masked his presence well enough that the bodyguards didn’t notice, but Lady Sumeragi stiffened the minute they walked in the room.
“Subaru-san,” she said stiffly. She didn’t acknowledge Seishirou, which was just fine with him.
“Obaasama.” Subaru bowed slightly.
“Lady Sumeragi.” Seishirou also bowed, though he didn’t lower his eyes.
Subaru knelt down, and Seishirou followed his lead. “We need access to the library,” he said. “It’s for the same reason I was here earlier this week.”
She gave him an imperious look. “And who is your companion, Subaru-san? You forget your manners, a most startling occurrence.”
“I didn’t forget them so much as purposely misplace them,” Subaru said, looking slightly guilty. “May I introduce you to Sakurazuka Seishirou. Head of the Sakurazuka Clan. Seishirou-san, this is my grandmother, Sumeragi Itsuko. The eleventh Head of the Sumeragi Clan.”
Seishirou looked vaguely annoyed at the title. He still wasn’t used to having it. “I’m most honored to meet you, Lady Sumeragi.”
She grit her teeth. In order to maintain her dignity, she had to act through the formalities. “The honor is all mine . . . Sakurazukamori.”
“Uh, guys,” Subaru said. “You can’t try to kill each other with dirty looks. Please stop.”
Seishirou shrugged. “I wasn’t giving her a dirty look.”
“Oh, my mistake.” Subaru turned to his grandmother. “We really do need access to the library.”
“And why should I let the head of the Sakurazuka Clan inside the Sumeragi library?” she asked, her tone deceptively mild.
“Because I can walk into theirs whenever I want,” Subaru said, sounding a bit smug. “Fair play.”
Lady Sumeragi reddened slightly. She resisted the urge to reply with the childish words of ‘well, our library is better than theirs anyway.’ “And why are you letting him in on all the secrets of your Clan, Sakurazuka-san?”
Seishirou took the last name as a good sign. He rejected the obvious answer of ‘we’re sleeping together’ and searched for something else. “As a gesture of goodwill between the two Clans,” he finally came up with.
Subaru bit his lip in an effort to not laugh.
Lady Sumeragi looked at him suspiciously. “I will allow it,” he said, “but only under supervision.”
“I’d think that I’m adequate supervision,” Subaru told her.
She looked like she wanted to disagree, but couldn’t quite bring herself to call her grandson a liar to his face. “What are you looking for? I may be able to assist you.”
Subaru handed her the spell. “We need a way to counter that, or undo it.”
She read it quickly. “I’m not sure of the specifics,” she said thoughtfully, “but I’m fairly certain it will take both of you to accomplish.” She looked slightly less irritated now that she had been given a real puzzle to work with. “Subaru-san, you would need to loosen the soul and send it back to where it belongs. However, that won’t work if the body is still living.” She gave Seishirou a measuring look. “Which, naturally, would be your job.”
“With all due respect,” Seishirou said, “I’m not capable of killing this man.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”
“He is a former Kamui,” Subaru informed her.
She frowned slightly. She seemed to respect Seishirou more now that he had admitted there was something he could not do. “Sakurazuka-san, you are acquainted with the Greek goddess Atropos?”
“She who cuts the strings of life,” Seishirou said with a nod.
“It is a way to . . . kill . . .” she managed the word with difficulty, “from a distance. I am surprised you are not acquainted with it.”
“I prefer to be more direct than that,” Seishirou said. He didn’t want to point out that, having been cut off from his family, he’d never had an opportunity to learn tricks like that.
She cleared her throat. “There are several books on dark onmyoujitsu in the library. I suggest you use those while Subaru-san is looking for the proper spell to deal with the soul.”
Subaru was shocked at how well this was actually going. Apparently, she had given up. “Thank you for helping,” he said to her. “I appreciate it.” He hoped his words made it clear that he equally appreciated the fact that she had not tried to kill Seishirou. The two of them rose to leave, both bowing slightly. “Maybe we could go out for lunch later this week,” he suggested.
“I’m sure that would be most entertaining,” she said dryly.
Subaru bowed again and decided to quit while he was ahead. They both headed for the door and outside. As it closed behind them, he could have sworn he heard his grandmother mutter, “Just don’t have sex on any of the tables.”
Subaru’s head whipped around. “Did she just -- ”
“Actually, it’s not a bad idea . . .” Seishirou mused.
“She would kill us both. We would die in the most messy way humanly possible. Now let’s go.”
~~~~
“I feel like shit.” Kamui flopped down onto the couch, facedown, burying his face in the cushions. “This week has sucked ass. It’s sucked in ways I wasn’t even sure were possible. And if possible, it sucks and blows at the same time.”
Keiichi lifted him up slightly and sat down, letting Kamui burying his face in his lap rather than in the cushions.
“Ooh, the possibilities.” Kamui turned so he was looking up at Keiichi, a slight smile on his face.
“You’re angsting. Angsting and sex do not go together,” Keiichi said firmly.
“I’m tired of angsting. I mean, I’m still doing it, but I’m sick of having to do it.”
Keiichi ran his fingers through Kamui’s hair. “Well, talk about it a bit and we’ll see if that helps, and if it doesn’t, we’ll go up to your room and make out. How’s that for a plan?”
“I’m good with that,” Kamui said with a nod, sitting up and draping himself more comfortably onto Keiichi. “I think I’m angsting about the wrong things. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m upset about Yuzuriha dying and I wish I’d spent more time with her . . . but I’m more upset about Fuuma. And he’s not dead. And he needs to be! I think I’m getting jaded. Callous. Something.”
Keiichi waited patiently through this. “Well, yeah, Yuzuriha-san was really cute and all,” he said, frowning slightly, “but it was a possibility with all the Seals . . . and they all knew it, ne?”
“Yeah, they knew it, but it’s not like they had a choice. They were dropped into these roles as much as I was. It’s not like joining the self-defense force where you can choose not to.”
“Isn’t it?” Keiichi mused. “Look at Seishirou. He’s hardly filling his role.”
“Yeah, he’s choosing to be a good guy,” Kamui said. “But once you’re assigned to be a good guy and defend humanity, you can’t really choose not to be. Not if you’re a decent human being.”
“I suppose,” Keiichi said. “Though I think Seishirou would be insulted if he heard himself referred to as a good guy.”
“He’s a nice evil guy,” Kamui said.
“Have you heard anything else about how Sorata and Seiichirou are doing?” Keiichi asked him.
“Seiichirou is back home with his family,” Kamui said. “He’s got a broken ankle, but other than that he’s good. Sorata . . . well, he’ll recover. He’s trying to make jokes again. He’s hitting on Arashi, and she can’t retaliate anymore! I think he’s actually getting to her.”
“It probably shook her up when she thought he might die,” Keiichi mused.
Kamui wilted. “I don’t want any more people to die. I don’t want Fuuma to die! And I feel bad about not wanting him to die.”
Keiichi hesitated. He knew that pretty much anything he said, Kamui had probably heard about forty times already. “I know,” he finally said. “But you shouldn’t feel bad about not wanting him to die. He was your friend. As long as . . . as you don’t let it . . . stop you . . . then I think you can feel however you want.”
“No, it won’t stop me,” Kamui said miserably. “I know what I have to do. I just hate it.”