Chapter Four
Hisoka was frustrated. Being incognito wasn’t doing either him or Tsuzuki any good. No one in school seemed to have any idea of what had happened to Kotori or her brother, so he was wasting time all day by sitting around. Still, he had at least found out one interesting thing; Kotori’s death had been preceded by a transfer student named Kamui Shirou. And he had also disappeared.
He made a mental note to look into it. Certainly couldn’t do it while stuck at school though. He had a vague suspicion that Tatsumi kept making him do this because he thought that Hisoka needed more education. Oh well, at least the afterschool hours were free . . .
“Hey, you wanna go out for ice cream?”
Hisoka glanced over at where Seimei was standing in front of his locker, holding his shoes and looking painfully shy. Hisoka blinked at him. “Ice cream?” he asked.
“Yeah, ice cream.” Seimei managed a shy smile. “It can be a social outing.”
Hisoka blinked at him again, then smiled back. “I’m not used to it,” he admitted. “But okay.” Really, Tsuzuki was the only one that he spent large amounts of time with; no one else had ever shown much interest in it. Occasionally, he’d made friends with one of the people on the cases, like Tsubaki-hime, but that seemed to be destined to always end in disaster.
Seimei put on his shoes, then scooped up his backpack. “Ice cream or social outings?” he asked.
“Social outings,” Hisoka replied.
“Me neither,” Seimei said. “It can be an experiment.”
“All right. Mind if we stop by the nurse’s office so I can tell Tsuzuki where I’m going?” Hisoka asked. He wasn’t sure what Tsuzuki would say. It was leaving Tsuzuki to work on his own, but then again, Tsuzuki was so amused by the fact that Hisoka seemed to be making a friend that he probably wouldn’t object.
“Sure,” Seimei said, following Hisoka down the hallway.
Hisoka pushed the door to the nurse’s office open and went in. “Oi, Tsuzuki,” he said, glancing at Seimei as he followed him inside. “This is Seimei.”
Tsuzuki looked up from what he’d been reading. “Ohayo!” he exclaimed, ignoring the fact that it was anything but morning.
Seimei bowed slightly. “Ohayo,” he replied, trying to pretend that dead people were normal. He’d gotten used to Hisoka, but to have another one suddenly appear in front of him was rather odd.
Tsuzuki grinned. “So you’re Hisoka’s new friend!”
Seimei was relieved that Tsuzuki seemed so friendly, seeing as he could tell that Tsuzuki could fry him with relatively little trouble. “Uh . . . yeah,” he said, managing a smile.
“That’s great!” Tsuzuki said, all smiles. “Where are you two off to?”
“Ice cream,” Seimei told him.
Tsuzuki was still grinning. “You’re making him have fun!”
Hisoka sighed. “Ignore him.”
Seimei laughed. “I’m not sure that I’m making him.”
“Well, you’re making him be social,” Tsuzuki clarified, winking at Hisoka. “That in of itself is impressive.”
Seimei half-smiled. “It’s not like I’m a blooming social butterfly either, so I guess it makes sense.”
“Have fun,” Tsuzuki said, then glanced at Hisoka. “I’ll do some work on my own and then meet you back at the hotel tonight in time for dinner, okay?”
Hisoka paused. “That’s an awfully long time just to have ice cream,” he said.
“I’m sure you can manage to have fun for that long,” Tsuzuki replied with a grin.
Seimei grinned back. “It sounds like you’re asking me to kidnap him.”
“Ah, well, just for the afternoon,” Tsuzuki replied.
Hisoka sighed. “I give up.”
“That might be best,” Seimei advised him.
Hisoka just rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Tsuzuki.”
“Yup,” Tsuzuki said. “Bye, Seimei!”
“Nice to meet you,” Seimei replied, thinking, My God, it’s like someone tried to plug in the sun and ended up with a lamp. Still, as the two of them left the building, occasionally chatting amiably but for the most part walking in companionable silence, Seimei began to wonder about their behavior. There was a casualness about them that somehow spoke of more than friendship. And something about the way that Hisoka looked at Tsuzuki, with a great deal of affection in his eyes.
“You two been together long?” he finally asked, after a long pause to scrape together some courage.
“About two years,” Hisoka replied absently, not really paying attention or realizing exactly what Seimei was talking about. “He’s a total scatter-brained idiot sometimes, but I like him anyway.”
Seimei smiled slightly, kicking a stone as he passed it. “You’re lucky. You know, to have someone like that.”
Hisoka sighed. “I don’t think I realized how lucky I was at first.”
“Wish I was that lucky,” Seimei mumbled.
Hisoka shrugged. “It’s just work.”
Seimei’s eyes bugged slightly as he realizesd that he and Hisoka had been speaking at total cross-purposes without realizing it. “Ye . . . yeah, I guess you’re right,” he managed, stammering slightly. He fought the urge to kick himself in the head and studied his shoes intently.
Hisoka sensed his embarrassment and glanced over, seeing that Seimei was slightly pink. “What are you blushing for?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Seimei said, lying through his teeth. “Just something reminded me of something I read.” Right, he thought. I am such a dork.
Hisoka blinked at him for a minute, then reflected on the previous conversation for a few minutes and suddenly realized what had been happening. “Oh! You thought Tsuzuki and I were . . . oh.”
“Well . . . you’re very . . . uh . . . never mind.” Seimei turned even more red, staring at his shoes.
Now Hisoka had started to blush as well. “What?”
“You’re very cute together,” Seimei told him.
Hisoka paused. “We are?”
“Sorry, but yeah.” Seimei was staring to get over his embarrassment, and smiling slightly at Hisoka’s discomfiture.
Hisoka sighed slightly. “Well, it’s not the first time we’ve been misunderstood, so don’t feel too bad. But he really doesn’t think of me like that.”
Seimei wanted to ask if Hisoka was sure -- the affection that he’d seen had certainly not been restricted to Hisoka’s eyes -- but resisted. “Well, still. I’m sorry that I assumed. Hey, do you mind if we stop by my house to drop off my bag?”
“No, that’s fine,” Hisoka said. “Obviously, I’m in no rush.”
“So,” Seimei said, unable to resist the question, “how do you feel about Tsuzuki-san?”
Hisoka blinked at him. “How do I feel about him?”
“Yeah,” Seimei replied.
Hisoka shrugged. “He’s a friend.”
“A good thing to have,” Seimei replied, nodding slightly. “Especially in your line of work.”
“Well, that’s why Shinigami work in pairs,” Hisoka said.
“How many are there?” Seimei asked curiously. If Seishirou wasn’t going to supply any information, maybe Hisoka could tell him some things.
“Not sure exactly,” Hisoka replied. “About a dozen in our division.”
“Division?” Seimei asked.
Hisoka looked as though he had a slight headache. He personally still didn’t understand all the mechanics of the JuohCho, and he didn’t relish the prospect of explaining them to someone else. “Aa . . . Shokan, EnmaCho. We’re the ones who investigate mysterious deaths.”
Seimei reflected on what an uncommunicative weenie his father was. But still, he could tell from the look on Hisoka’s face that he’d better stop asking questions. “Okay, I’ll stop grilling you. We’re almost there anyway; my house is two up from here.”
“That’s all right,” Hisoka said. “It’s just a complicated thing to explain.” Really, he would explain the secrets of the Meifu until his tongue dried out if it would keep Seimei from asking about the specifics of his relationship with Tsuzuki.
“I don’t think anything is ever simple,” Seimei said with a sigh. “It’s just human nature.”
“Technically, we’re not human,” Hisoka told him.
“You were, though,” Seimei said, walking up his front walkway and opening the front door. “Close enough.”
Before Hisoka could reply, a large King Shepherd bounded out of the house and pounced on Seimei. “I suppose,” he managed, backing away from the dog as it leapt up to start licking Seimei’s face.
Seimei turned to Hisoka to introduce him to the dog, then noticed the look on Hisoka’s face. “Oh. Do you not like dogs?”
“Just . . . had an encounter with a demon Doberman once,” Hisoka said. “Brings back some nasty memories.” He paused, watching Seimei slide a hand under the dog’s collar, undoubtedly to make him feel better. “He looks very friendly, though.”
“That’s really creepy,” Seimei remarked, in reply to the demon Doberman. “And he is. Just a bit overenthused when I come home.”
Hisoka smiled faintly. “Yeah, I can see that.”
Seimei looked slightly uncomfortable. “Do you want me to put him out back or something?”
“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll get over myself.”
“Are you sure?” Seimei asked. He’d been planning on bringing the dog with them for the ice cream, but that seemed to be a bad idea.
“Yeah. I know he’s not a demon.”
“Dad seems to think he is,” Seimei muttered.
“Hm?” Hisoka asked.
“Dad doesn’t like Jack, that’s all,” Seimei said. “Now just let me drop off my bag and tell Mom where I’m going.”
“Okay.” He followed Seimei inside the house. “Your dad doesn’t live here, then?” he asked. He had noticed that the name on the mailbox wasn’t Sakurazuka, but had chosen not to say anything about it.
“Nah,” Seimei said, closing the door behind him. “He and Mom were never married. Never even dated.”
“Really?” Hisoka said, startled. “That’s . . . unusual.”
“Tadaima!” Seimei called out for his mother’s benefit, then turned back to Seimei. “Yeah. Dad’s, well, not interested. I was something of a business venture.”
“Oh,” Hisoka said, then surmised, “Because he was an important member of the clan?”
“How was school?” Seimei’s mother called from her office.
“Yeah,” Seimei replied. “I think that he’s technically the head of the family.” He lead Hisoka down the hallway to a small room.
“Do you ever see him?” Hisoka asked curiously. He understood all too well about shitty parenting.
“Almost every weekend,” Seimei answered.
“That’s better than some parents then,” Hisoka replied.
Seimei stuck his head into the office. “School was fine, Mom. This is my friend Hisoka. We’re going to go get ice cream, okay?”
Hisoka mustered up a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.” He wondered vaguely if she would realize that he was dead, too.
She spun around in her chair. “Nice to meet you too.” She fished some money out of a drawer and offered it to Seimei. “Want to eat out tonight? I have an appointment to torture Aiko tonight, so you’d best be out of the house. You can both go.”
“I can’t,” Hisoka said. “I have to work. Thank you anyway.”
“No problem,” she replied, still handing the money to Seimei. “Have fun.” She turned back to her computer, obviously still having work to do.
Seimei left her to it, leading Hisoka back out to the lobby. “Wanna go?” he asked.
“Aa.” Hisoka waited until they were out of the house. “Who was your mother going to torture?”
“Her editor,” Seimei said with a small smile. “She’s a writer, and she always makes her editor jump through hoops to get manuscripts from her.”
“Oh,” Hisoka replied. “Lucky him.”
“This time I think she may not even be done with it,” Seimei replied.
Hisoka laughed. “She seems nice, though.”
“She’s a bit strange, but a good mother,” Seimei answered.
“You’re lucky to have her,” Hisoka said quietly.
“Very,” Seimei agreed. After a brief pause, he asked, “Do you miss your family?” He figured that if Hisoka had died at the tender age of sixteen, there was a fairly good chance that he did.
“It depends on how you mean it,” Hisoka said with a shrug. “I consider the other Shinigami my family, and when I’m here I miss them a lot. But as for my blood relatives, I don’t miss them at all.”
“What happened?” Seimei asked curiously, then looked away. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking. You don’t have to answer.”
Hisoka shrugged. “We just didn’t get along,” he said, choosing to massively downplay the issue rather than lie.
“Oh,” Seimei said. The two of them walked in silence for a few minutes. Neither of them were terribly gifted in the realm of social skills, but neither of them minded walking in silence, either.
“How far is the ice cream place?” Hisoka asked.
“About another block.”
Another minute of silence.
“You know, you seem to be under the impression that no one at school likes you,” Hisoka said abruptly.
Seimei paused, midstep, for a moment. “Well, nobody seems to.”
“From experience,” Hisoka said, “people have difficulty telling the difference between shyness and the true desire for privacy. They’re probably not saying anything to you because they think you don’t want them to.” In truth, he was backing this up with his empathy; he had sensed this in many of Seimei’s classmates.
“Oh,” Seimei said. “But really I’m strange, and people don’t take kindly to that.”
“You’re not that strange,” Hisoka said. “At least, not in a way that people would notice before they became really close to you.”
“Maybe,” Seimei admitted. “But I’m always afraid that if they do become friends with me, they’ll find out and get scared off.”
Hisoka shrugged. “Being hurt is a chance you have to take if you want to be close to somebody. Tsuzuki taught me that.”
“He’s very likely right,” Seimei replied. But having a friend discover you’re a government assassin can cause a whole lot of hurt.
Hisoka shrugged, trying not to read Seimei’s thoughts and having difficulty. The kid emoted quite loudly. “Well, don’t you know any of the other members of your clan?”
Seimei shook his head. “Dad wants nothing to do with them, and Mom was doing her damndest to raise me as a well-adjusted kid.”
“Maybe you should ask about them,” Hisoka suggested. “You’d probably make friends more easily among other people like you.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Seimei said. “That is, if I can get Dad to tell me anything.”
“How so?” Hisoka asked curiously.
“He’s not very forthcoming at times,” Seimei said, and slumped a little, “and I think I annoy him.”
Hisoka raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”
“Hours of stretching silence. The blank look I get no matter what I say or do. The fact that we’ve never done anything even remotely considered fun.” He smiled brightly. “You know, the usual signs that say ‘go away.’”
They reached the ice cream stand, whereupon there was a brief pause in the conversation while Seimei got a double scoop of cookie dough and Hisoka got a single scoop of mint chocolate chip.
“That’s not necessarily being annoyed,” Hisoka said, though privately he thought that Seimei had a fairly good point. “Maybe he just doesn’t know how to deal with having a kid.”
“I can hardly venture a guess,” Seimei said dryly, “and I’m certainly not about to bring it up.”
“I suppose I can understand that,” Hisoka replied.
“Not really like I have a right to complain,” Seimei continued.
“Why not?” Hisoka asked, puzzled.
“Because I do have people that care,” Seimei said. “Mom and Tree-san, and I suppose Jack counts. Never knock unconditional love.”
Hisoka shrugged. “You have a right to want both of your parents to like you.”
“But it seems silly to mope over what I don’t have,” Seimei pointed out.
“Maybe you should try talking to him about it,” Hisoka suggested.
Seimei shook his head in an emphatic no. “If he really doesn’t like me, I don’t want him to get mad and lose the little I have. He’d still have to see me anyway and that would just be horrible.”
Hisoka shrugged again. “You have to do what you think is best.”
Seimei smiled. “I can tell you don’t approve.”
“I’d have to meet him to be able to tell anything about him,” Hisoka said.
“Well, you’ll get your chance on Friday,” Seimei replied.
“Really? Why?”
“He’s chaperoning the field trip.”
Hisoka coughed. “If you annoy him, why on earth did he offer to chaperone a field trip?”
“I think he just wanted to see the shocked look on my face when he said yes,” Seimei replied.
“He’s willing to risk a day full of bored teenagers in an art museum just for one momentary expression on your face?” Hisoka asked. “He must be one bored man.”
“Dad’s strange like that,” Seimei admitted. “And it’s not like he’ll have to put up with any of them. I’m sure he can glare them all away.”
“It’ll be interesting to see, at least,” Hisoka said with a smile.
“Yeah,” Seimei agreed. “It definitely will be.”
~~~~
Fuuma stood at the edge of Kakyou’s bed, looking down at him. He would never admit to being unsure of himself, but he would have admitted that he didn’t know how to proceed. How, exactly, did one ‘knock’ on the door of a Dreamscape? It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to do, and it annoyed him slightly. He wanted to talk to Kakyou, damn it, and if the blonde Dreamgazer wasn’t going to let him in, he’d . . . have to leave, because Kakyou would kick his ass if he broke in again, and that really wasn’t how he wanted to spend his day.
With this realization, the world dissolved in front of him, and Fuuma found himself facing a door. He rolled his eyes at Kakyou’s sense of bizarre irony and knocked three times. There was no answer, but it opened, which he took as an invitation to come in.
He found himself standing on a beach. There were no identifying marks to tell him what beach it was; it could have been any beach on any ocean. Just water and sand and some rocks. There was no beach smell. The waves crashed silently. It was altogether eerie. Occasionally a seagull flew by overheard, but it made no noise as it went.
Kakyou was sitting on one of the rocks, gazing out at the ocean, his robes trailing into the sand.
“Hey, a real door,” Fuuma said, trying not to show his puzzlement at this truly odd landscape. “I’m impressed.”
“I try,” Kakyou said, as the door closed and then disappeared, to reveal seamless blue sky where it had been.
Fuuma glanced around. “What, no chairs?” Hell if he was going to let Kakyou know that he was even freaked out in the slightest by any of this.
“Ask nicely,” Kakyou said with a very slight smirk.
Fuuma reflected for a moment on the laws of immaturity. As they said, ‘Childhood is temporary, but immaturity lasts forever.’ “May I please have a chair, O Master of the Universe?” he asked with a sweet smile.
Kakyou’s slight smirk became a definite smirk. “As you wish, Lord Godling.” With his words, a chair appeared, identical in appearance to the ones that had been in his hotel room at the Four Seasons. It looked decidedly out of place on the beach, but apparently Kakyou was a big fan of the statement ‘go with what you know.’
“Only godling?” Fuuma asked, slightly put out, settling into the chair.
“Don’t pout,” Kakyou told him. “You’ll ruin your boyish good looks.”
“Oh?” Fuuma asked, tremendously amused by this. “But you’re still beautiful, Kyou-chan.”
“I don’t pout,” Kakyou pointed out. “I mope.”
“True, I’ll give you that,” Fuuma said. “But still, I think that angst probably gives you wrinkles too.”
“Well, tell me, does my true face have wrinkles?” Kakyou asked, pulling one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen myself.”
“No, you’re just as beautiful out there as you are in here,” Fuuma said, lounging comfortably in the chair, with his back against one arm and his knees over the other. “You know, if you could be bothered to open your eyes.”
“Why should I?” Kakyou asked mildly.
“Because it’s boring in here.” Fuuma was very averse to boredom. “It’s not real.”
“Correct,” Kakyou said, watching another wave crash soundlessly against the sand.
It was starting to bug Fuuma immensely. “Do you know how weird it is that it’s this quiet in here?” he asked. “C’mon, you need some fresh air.”
“I can’t make it any more real than this,” Kakyou said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “And nothing good ever happened while I was out there.”
“Feh,” Fuuma said, totally unfazed by this statement. “You just never hung around with the right people, that’s all.” He gave Kakyou a suggestive wink. “I could show you how to have a real good time, you know.”
Kakyou nearly smiled. “Hokuto-chan was very big on ‘good times’.”
Fuuma raised an eyebrow. “Hokuto-chan?” Admittedly, he knew next to nothing about the Dreamgazer, mostly because he hadn’t had time to learn. But now seemed to be an excellent time to begin doing so.
“She . . .” Kakyou’s voice trailed off as he searched for a way to phrase it. “I thought she loved me. Then she died.” That was about as simplistic as the convoluted situation could be made.
“Oh, that sucks,” Fuuma said, trying to force sympathy into his voice. He was sympathetic, really, but he’d never been particularly good at showing things like that. “Is that why you’re in a coma?” he added, curiously.
“Part of it,” Kakyou said. “It wasn’t on purpose in the beginning.”
Fuuma paused, considering this. “You want to just tell me what you’re talking about so I can stop asking stupid questions?”
Kakyou cracked a small smile. “You know, you’re the first person to ever actually just talk to me.”
“Yeah?” Fuuma asked. “So tell me about this Hokuto chick.”
“She was different,” Kakyou said with a careless shrug. “She wanted to help me, but we never really talked to each other. We didn’t even know each other very long.”
“What happened to her?” Fuuma asked.
“The Sakurazukamori tore out her heart.” Kakyou blinked a few times, holding back tears. It seemed rather odd that after all these years, he had an urge to cry about her now. Perhaps it was because no one had ever asked about her before.
“Oh,” Fuuma said, thinking, That would be Seishirou, wouldn’t it. Peachy. Can’t wait to see how those two hit it off, then. Quick, change the subject. “So if she was big on good times, what did you two do together?”
“We could only see each other while she was sleeping,” Kakyou replied.
“Oh,” Fuuma said again. It was really his stock response around Kakyou, it seemed. “So you never left the Dreamscape. And you call that a good time?”
“I didn’t say that we had good times. I said she was very big on good times,” Kakyou clarified. “There’s a difference there.” He paused. “She said she would take me out into the real world. To the ocean.”
“Ah,” Fuuma said, a step above ‘oh.’ He looked around at the soundless ocean view. “Well, I’m big on good times too, so we ought to get along famously, ne?”
Kakyou raised an eyebrow at him. “Very sure of yourself, aren’t you.”
Fuuma smirked. “Always.”
“I suppose it’s a good way to be,” Kakyou said reflectively.
“So where do you want to go?” Fuuma asked. He wasn’t sure why he had this urge to get onto the Dreamgazer’s good side. Maybe it was because he could tell that Kakyou was just as miserable as he was. The biggest difference between them was that Kakyou wasn’t busily pretending that he was happy. “Name it, and if you wake up, I’ll take you there.”
Kakyou pulled his other leg up and hugged his knees. “Anywhere?” he asked, giving Fuuma a slightly suspicious glance. “You promise?”
“Yeah, sure,” Fuuma said, with the air of one who was used to offering things. “Don’t even worry about cost. Kanoe’s keeping me rolling in cash. It shuts me up.”
“I want to see the ocean,” Kakyou said quietly. “I want to know what this really sounds like.” He stared off into the distance, his voice small. “I want what she promised me.”
“Hell, that’s all?” Fuuma replied, surprised. With that offer on the table, he’d expected something much more extravagant. “I’ll take you to every beach in Japan if you want.”
“What were you expecting?” Kakyou asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
“I dunno,” Fuuma said with a shrug. “A trip to America or something.”
Kakyou shook his head. “I’ve seen American dreams. They’re scary.”
Fuuma laughed slightly. “So that’s how you spend your days, huh? Watching other people’s dreams?” In all reality, that freaked him out slightly. To be so desperate to live that you immersed yourself in other people’s lives . . . he shook the thought off. Kakyou wanted to die. Or at least, he thought he did. Fuuma wasn’t so sure. At Kakyou’s slight nod, Fuuma decided to tease him a little. Maybe it would get him to loosen up. “You ever watch mine? See anything good?”
Kakyou gave him an odd little smile. “Yes.”
“Well, don’t leave me hanging,” Fuuma said, finding himself honestly curious. He didn’t remember his dreams very often, and those he did remember were never very good.
“You dream about Kamui,” Kakyou said with a slight shrug. Then he added, as an afterthought, “And basketball. But mostly about Kamui.”
“Really?” Fuuma asked. “Ah, doesn’t surprise me too much, the kid being my Twin Star and all that crap.”
Kakyou gave him a look. “You aren’t fooling me. And you aren’t fooling yourself, either.”
Fuuma twitched slightly, but decided to play innocent. “Whatcha talking about, Kyou-chan?”
“You aren’t the heartless monster you want everyone to think you are,” Kakyou said, his tone mild. “You would throw your life away in an instant if it gave him a chance. You dream of seeing him happy.”
Fuuma’s smile faded. After a long pause, he managed to reply, and even keep his voice casual. “Should’ve known better than to think I could fool a Dreamgazer, huh? I thought after crucifying Kotori no one would think twice about killing me. But you’re wrong about one thing, Kakyou. It’s not that I would throw my life away. It’s that I am throwing my life away. Or didn’t you notice?”
Kakyou didn’t bother to ask Fuuma if he regretted killing his sister; he already knew the answer from watching Fuuma’s dreams. “I had. But you know, something about all this isn’t right. I can’t see how it’s going to end anymore.”
Fuuma shrugged, obviously not thinking that this was anything to be distressed about. “Well, it’s the End of the World,” he said, obviously speaking in capitals, as if this explained everything. “You’re probably not supposed to be able to see it.”
“Yes, I should,” Kakyou replied. “I could. But now I can’t. I should be able to see the way it goes, even if the direction changes. But there’s something in my way. Something’s not right.”
Fuuma considered this for a long moment. Kakyou was surprisingly earnest about this, so he felt he ought to pay serious attention. “Well, don’t the Seals have a Dreamgazer too?” he asked. “Maybe she’s blocking you.”
Kakyou shrugged. As he didn’t have the answer, that was the best he could give. Then he smiled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. “And it isn’t the end of the world, you punk.”
Fuuma grinned back. “Oh, so now I’m a punk? See if I’m nice to you again.”
“It’s the end of humanity,” Kakyou said loftily, but there was a tiny little smile hovering on his lips. “You of all people should know that.”
“Terminology,” Fuuma said dismissively. It amounted to the same thing in the end, for him, anyway. “You just all have sticks up your asses.”
“No, we don’t,” Kakyou replied. “That’s just Miss Thang and Kusanagi-san.”
“Miss Thang?” Fuuma asked, amused. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Kakyou smiled again. “She dreams in bad porn.”
Fuuma smirked. “See, Kyou-chan, you’re not as boring as you think you are.”
“Yes, my life is a thrill at the moment,” Kakyou said dryly. “Look at me go.”
“Hey, whose fault is that?” Fuuma asked, giving him a skeptical look. He liked Kakyou, he really did, but his occasional self-pitying mope could be quite annoying. “Nine year coma ring any bells?”
“It wasn’t on purpose in the beginning,” Kakyou said stiffly, not too pleased with this line of conversation, “and what did I have to live for?”
“You never know what you have to live for until you look for something,” Fuuma replied, trying to sound persuasive. “You can’t just expect reasons to live to just drop into your lap.”
“I lived in a hotel,” Kakyou retorted. “Where no one would see me unless they wanted a prediction of the future.” He paused, then added quietly, “I would rather have nothing than be used that way.”
“Yeah?” Fuuma asked, shifting slightly so he was looking out at the ocean. “So why didn’t you ever tell them to fuck off?”
“I did,” Kakyou replied tonelessly.
Fuuma blinked in surprise at this. “And?”
“I nearly escaped, once,” Kakyou said, his voice rather vague. “Nine years ago.”
“And why didn’t it work out?” Fuuma asked, curious.
“I was trying to save Hokuto-chan.” Kakyou stared out at the waves. “I had never been very strong. Dreamgazing takes a lot of energy and I can’t stop doing it. But I managed to get up enough strength to leave.” He paused, leaving Fuuma waiting with bated breath. “They shot me rather than let me go.”
“Ah,” Fuuma said, back to his standard response. “Thus the coma, I take it?”
Kakyou nodded. “In the beginning. Then I had nothing to live for. I had a chance for one fleeting moment and they took it. Staying in a coma was sort of my ‘fuck you’ to all of them. No one gets anything they want. Not really.”
“Wow, that really sucks,” Fuuma commiserated, and was surprised to find that he meant it. “So you just sort of gave up, huh?”
Kakyou nodded. “My choices were limited.”
Fuuma grinned suddenly. “Well, your days of moping are over. Wakey wakey! We’re gonna get you back on your feet, Kyou-chan, you just wait and see.”
Fuuma loved challenges.
“I’ve seen stranger things,” Kakyou replied, not sounding very enthused about the idea in the slightest.
“You do realize that you’re going to need physical therapy, right?” Fuuma asked, figuring that he should probably clear this up early on.
Kakyou made a little sneering face.
“Yeah, well, I’m not taking you to the beach unless you can sit up on your own steam,” Fuuma said, not as a threat; just as a comment.
Kakyou smiled slightly. “Forgive me for thinking there was still some generosity in your blackened and shriveled heart.” He was actually quite close to laughing, but considered such behavior unacceptable.
Fuuma gave him a look. “Don’t be a twit. You won’t enjoy yourself if you can’t walk around, and it would negate the whole purpose of going.”
Kakyou sighed. “Thank you.” He paused for a moment to wonder when the last time he’d thanked someone had been. He couldn’t quite remember. “Oh, there’s something else I was meaning to tell you.”
“Oh?” Fuuma raised an eyebrow at him.
“Take Kazuki shopping,” Kakyou replied. “Buy him nice normal kid things. He hates his room and isn’t happy.”
Fuuma frowned. “You call him Kazuki too?”
Kakyou shrugged. “It’s how he thinks of himself. Who am I to argue?”
“I was just startled, that’s all,” Fuuma said, and pictured taking Nataku out shopping. “It’d be hard to shop for him, though. I don’t know what he’d want. But for you, I’ll try.”
Kakyou rolled his eyes, then found himself saying those words again. “Thank you.”
Fuuma smirked. “Anything you want for your room?”
Kakyou blinked at him, then wondered if Fuuma would actually bring what he asked for. Well, only one way to find out, but he was singularly unused to making requests. “Flowers?” he asked hesitantly, in a small voice. “And a quilt? I hate these hospital blankets.”
Fuuma grinned. “You really are cute, you know.”
“What makes you say that?” Kakyou asked, shifting uncomfortably.
“C’mon,” Fuuma said with a smirk. “You asked for flowers. That’s adorable.” He was now planning on making sure Kakyou had fresh flowers every day.