Chapter Five
Kakyou slowly opened his eyes, and blinked. Then he blinked some more. Blinking really seemed to be the thing to do. His eyes simply weren’t used to being open and it was taking a lot of effort to get them used to the idea. He resisted the urge to go right back into his Dreamscape and say he didn’t feel like it anymore. He really would have loved to rub his eyes, but his arm didn’t really seem to be cooperating. Stupid arm.
He lay there, blinking, for about fifteen minutes before Fuuma came in with a small bowl of soup. “Your wish is my command,” he intoned, which, coming from him, might have been taken seriously if not for his tone of voice.
Kakyou smiled and thanked the powers that be that at least those muscles were still working. Then he opened his mouth and tried to tell Fuuma that it smelled good, but all that came out was a croaking cough. This annoyed him terribly.
“Hard to talk?” Fuuma surmised, pulling a chair up beside the bed and sitting down.
Kakyou nodded and managed, “Drink.”
Fuuma took a bottle of water out from his jacket pocket and took the lid off. “Figured this would be easiest on your stomach to start,” he said, and held it to Kakyou’s lips.
Kakyou took a few sips, then coughed some more, then managed a few real swallows. “Thanks,” he said, sounding slightly more human.
“No problem, Kyou-chan,” Fuuma said with a definite smirk. He put the soup on the side table. “Let’s get you sitting up so you can eat.” He put his arm around Kakyou’s thin shoulders and lifted him up slightly, holding him there with one arm while propping the pillows up. It took a minute, but the net result was Kakyou in a slightly sitting position. Fuuma got some of the soup onto the spoon and aimed it at Kakyou’s mouth. “Open wide.”
Kakyou made a face, disliking the idea of being fed, but obediently opened his mouth and let Fuuma do it anyway. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” he said after a few spoonfuls, seeing Fuuma’s great delight in being able to feed him.
“I’m just reflecting that you’re still good-looking even though you’re awake,” Fuuma said, taking a spoonful of the soup himself before giving Kakyou another.
“I’m croaking like a dying frog,” Kakyou pointed out.
“That doesn’t really make too much of a difference looks-wise,” Fuuma countered.
“I can’t look that good,” Kakyou said flatly.
“Well, you’re not at your best,” Fuuma said with a shrug. “But I can tell that with a hairbrush, some walking, and some sunlight, you’ll be just as good-looking here as you are in the Dreamscape.”
“Your confidence in me is endearing.” Kakyou looked around the room, only now actually seeing it for the first time. “Do we all live in a basement?”
Fuuma looked slightly chagrined. “Uh, yeah.”
“Nice.” Kakyou pushed the soup away. “That’s enough. Thanks.”
Fuuma glanced at Kakyou, then at the soup, then started to eat the rest of it. “Hey, it’s not like I have anywhere else to stay,” he said, sounding a bit defensive.
“True.” Kakyou paused, then dropped the subject before Fuuma could get really annoyed about it. “So what should I do all day?”
“I dunno,” Fuuma said with another shrug. “Want some books? A television?”
“Do we have books?” Kakyou asked curiously.
“No, but I can get you some,” Fuuma replied.
“That’d be nice. Thank you.”
Fuuma smirked. “Well, I couldn’t just make you wake up and then leave you high and dry, could I?” He finished the soup in one large gulp and tossed the container in the general direction of the trash.
“You could,” Kakyou said. “But I didn’t expect you to.”
“And here I thought you were the only person who didn’t think I was a monster,” Fuuma sighed, a note of false mourning in his voice.
Kakyou laughed slightly. “Kazuki doesn’t think you are.”
Fuuma shrugged, regaining seriousness. “Kazuki doesn’t know better.”
“Not true,” Kakyou said. “Most children have the innate ability to know when someone means them no harm. Kazuki certainly does. He didn’t like the people keeping him at the lab.”
“True, but just because I don’t mean him harm doesn’t mean I’m not a harmful person,” Fuuma pointed out.
“I never said you weren’t a harmful person,” Kakyou replied. “I said you weren’t a monster.”
“Semantics,” Fuuma said, waving his hand dismissively. “Fine, only you and Kazuki think I’m not a monster.”
“That’s the way you want it, though,” Kakyou said, then paused. “Isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah,” Fuuma said. “You know. In an intellectual way.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Kakyou said, “I think you’re a good person.”
There was a long pause while Fuuma considered this. “That does help,” he finally said. “Thanks.”
Kakyou settled back into his pillows. “Are you aware that this is, without a doubt, the best day of my entire life?”
Fuuma blinked at him, perplexed. “Huh? Why?”
“Because you were nice to me,” Kakyou said with a shrug. “Because you said you’d help and then did so, not made promises that you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, keep. Because you didn’t ask anything of me in return.”
Fuuma paused. “Didn’t Hokuto ever do that for you?”
“No. She made promises and then didn’t keep them. There are few things worse than false hope.”
Fuuma sighed slightly. “Did you love her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“She probably meant to keep those promises, you know.”
“She threw her life away, for a stupid reason,” Kakyou said bitterly. “She did it for a man who didn’t appreciate the gift. She gave it to a man that only took it out of some sense of duty or some stupid ideals. And for that I think I may actually hate her.”
Fuuma blinked, totally taken aback by the vehemence of this statement. He considered what he could say for a long minute, reaching out absently to play with Kakyou’s hair. “Hey. It’s silly to hate someone who’s gone.”
Kakyou just sort of looked at him, in what could only be described as a mixture of kicked puppy and adoration. Fuuma, seeing that look, nearly groaned. It was strange to watch Kakyou, to watch his Wish morph and mold to change with the way his life was changing. Fuuma knew that Kakyou didn’t really want to die; he simply wanted to no longer be alone. But before, there had been no specific person in mind, and now there was.
Fuuma simply didn’t know what to do. To let Kakyou fall in love with him would be a disaster or worse. He’d never had anyone care for him, and to fall for someone destined to die was just stupid. But Fuuma was well aware of the fact that no one could control the human heart. And really, he didn’t have a leg to stand on. But how could he be good for Kakyou when he still dreamed about Kamui every night?
Then, as quickly as it had come, the new Wish was gone, replaced with the old. Whatever Kakyou had been thinking or feeling, it had gotten lost in the bitterness. Fuuma wanted to say something, maybe make a snide comment, make Kakyou dislike him so he wouldn’t have the problem. But he couldn’t. Part of it was just because Kakyou was so lonely that Fuuma couldn’t hurt him that way; he simply didn’t have the heart. And the other part was perhaps selfish, but no less there; Kakyou was the only one who understood him. The only one who knew why he was doing what he was doing. Fuuma was sure that without someone to turn to over the coming months, he would either lose his resolve or go insane, and Kakyou was the only one willing to take the position as Fuuma’s confidante.
So he said nothing, simply running his fingers through Kakyou’s hair and waiting for a response.
“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to feel,” Kakyou finally said.
“Well, hey, I’m not saying you’re supposed to be frolicking in the ocean,” Fuuma said with a shrug. “But at least try to let it go.”
“Maybe,” Kakyou said with a sigh. “But for such a long time I had nothing else to hold onto.”
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to fix,” Fuuma said, and closed his eyes for a brief moment as Kakyou’s Wish shifted again.
The yumemi simply look at him for a long minute, his gold eyes unreadable. “Thank you.”
~~~~
Tsuzuki plopped onto the bed in the small hotel room that he and Hisoka had taken up temporary residence in, a package of store-bought cookies in his hand. He opened up the package and began to nibble at the first one, watching Hisoka pace around the room and waiting for the water in the small hot pot to finish boiling so he could make tea. His partner was obviously agitated, but Tsuzuki suspected it was more out of lack of progress than anything else. They’d been investigating for nearly a week, and still found next to nothing.
“So . . .” he tried, “find any useful info today?”
Hisoka shrugged his thin shoulders, looking disgusted with the entire situation. “Not much. Just that I have the feeling there’s something much bigger going on than what we’ve suspected.”
The tea kettle began to whistle. Tsuzuki walked over and put the tea leaves inside it, swishing the contents around thoughtfully to help it steep faster.
“You?” Hisoka finally asked.
“Only one thing. Remember that other missing student, Shirou Kamui?”
Hisoka nodded slightly.
“He was the nephew of Magami Tokiko. The previous nurse.” Tsuzuki poured two mugs of tea and handed one to Hisoka.
“Thanks,” Hisoka said absently, waiting for it to cool. “That’s an odd coincidence, don’t you think? He disappeared at the same time as Monou Fuuma did, right?”
Tsuzuki nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “And the day that Magami-san died, as well. I asked the Gushoshin to double check the date of her death for me.”
Hisoka began to pace again. “Two people dying the same day, in similar ways, one in the Kiseki and one not. Now two students, both related to the victims, missing. This just can’t be coincidence.”
Tsuzuki nodded again, looking thoughtful. “I think we need to find out why Magami-san died.”
“Does she have any living relatives?” Hisoka asked, sipping his tea.
“None living, at least, not close ones,” Tsuzuki said. “Her sister, Kamui’s mother, died recently, though. Has anyone ever explained kagenie magic to you?”
Hisoka shook his head. “It sounds familiar but I can’t quite place it.”
“It’s the ability to be a shadow sacrifice for someone,” Tsuzuki explained. “Those that have the power can bind themselves to someone else, and if that person is hurt or dies, the shadow is offered up instead.”
“All right,” Hisoka said, inwardly wondering who on earth would want such a power, or use it if they had it. “So who did Magami Tokiko die for?”
“No one,” Tsuzuki replied, sounding understandably confused. “If she had, her name would have gone differently in the Kiseki. It would have replaced someone else’s. Hers was there alone. But they never die without reason.”
Hisoka stopped pacing and flopped into a chair. “Well, if we can’t find Monou Fuuma, I guess we should try to find Shirou Kamui. He was down as a transfer in the school files, but they didn’t say where he was transferring to. Any ideas?”
“I might be able to use a tracker spirit,” Tusuzki said, eating another cookie. “The way I found you on our first assignment.”
Hisoka frowned, feeling slightly suspicious. “But you know me. You don’t know Kamui.”
There was a slight pause before Tsuzuki spoke. “I’ve met a Magami before, though. Even if he doesn’t use their family name, he would still carry the magic. They all do. It’s in their blood.”
Hisoka still looked suspicious, but subsided. He had no idea how tracker spirits worked, really; his knowledge of ‘jitsu was still fairly fundamental. “Okay. Go ahead and do that then.”
Tsuzuki fished out one of his ofuda, which was a little crinkled, and whispered instructions to it. It folded and morphed into a small bird, which went whinging out the window.
“How long does this take?” Hisoka asked curiously.
“It depends. The spirit goes in an ever-widening circle until it finds who it’s looking for.”
“So it could be hours, could be days,” Hisoka translated.
Tsuzuki nodded. “Afraid so.”
There was a slight pause while they both drank their tea.
“Ne, Tsuzuki?”
“Hmmm?” Tsuzuki asked, his mouth full of cookie, tilting his head at Hisoka in an adorably questioning way.
Hisoka hesitated. “Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
Tsuzuki paled, but only slightly. “Why would I hide something from you?” he asked, shoving another cookie into his mouth.
“I don’t know. Just a feeling.” Hisoka was used to trusting his feelings, even around Tsuzuki, who had built up his natural walls so thick that Hisoka could barely read him at all.
Tsuzuki shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s going on. Too many odd coincidences.” He laughed slightly. “Makes me nervous.”
“I didn’t ask if you knew what was going on,” Hisoka remarked, taking one of the cookies and then beginning to pace again. “I asked if there was something you weren’t telling me. There’s a difference.”
Tsuzuki blinked, then looked away. “Just . . . some old memories . . .”
Hisoka also looked away, feeling like a total jerk for prying. “Aa.” He paused. “Daijoubu?”
“Yeah . . .” Tsuzuki smiled. “Thanks for worrying.”
Hisoka scuffed the ground with his foot, looking and feeling very awkward. “If, you know, you want to talk about anything . . .”
“I think I’d rather not,” Tsuzuki said with a shrug. “But thanks for the offer.” He was taken by the sudden impulse to hug Hisoka, but wasn’t sure that it would go over very well. Hisoka had never really been big on physical contact.
Before Hisoka could reply, the tracker spirit flew back into the window and alighted on Tsuzuki’s shoulder. Tsuzuki smiled. “Looks like our luck is improving!”
Hisoka’s eyes narrowed. “Aa . . . that was awfully fast.”
Tsuzuki blinked. “Well, ah, I guess he wasn’t very far, ne?”
Hisoka nodded slightly, though he obviously didn’t believe a word of it. “Let’s go then.”
~~~~
“Ne, ne, Shirou-kun,” Keiichi said, popping up behind Kamui so quickly that the younger boy jumped and let out an undignified squawk. “Do you want to come over to dinner again this weekend? My mom makes the best Chinese food, really. She keeps asking me when you’re going to come again; I think she really liked you.” He gave Kamui a sunny grin.
Kamui smiled slightly. “How is it that you talk so much and yet move so quietly?”
“Did I sneak up on you?” Keiichi asked, and blushed. “I didn’t mean to! It just looked like you were moping, so I thought I would come cheer you up.”
“Thanks,” Kamui said, also blushing. “And I’d love to come over, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Of course it isn’t!” Keiichi bounced back and forth on his heels. “Oh -- I have a meeting to go to. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
Kamui nodded, with the same dumbfounded look he usually wore around Keiichi. He smiled again as Keiichi bounded off to whatever student government meeting he was attending, then started the walk home.
“Ano . . .” a polite voice interjected. “Shirou Kamui, ne?”
Kamui turned to see two people leaning against one of the fences. They were hardly the average people one saw on CLAMP Campus, but then again, there really was no average. The taller one smiled at him pleasantly. Kamui, being overly suspicious and jumpy at this point, backed away a step. “Who are you?”
“Ah, my name is Asato Tsuzuki,” the taller man said. “This is Hisoka. We need to talk to you for a few minutes if that’s okay.”
Kamui’s eyes narrowed. “What are you?”
Tsuzuki stammered for a second before Hisoka interjected. “We’re Shinigami.”
Kamui raised an eyebrow at them. “You’re the god of death?”
“No.” Hisoka sighed slightly. “It’s kind of a long story, if you’d like to walk with us for a bit.”
“That depends on where we’re walking,” Kamui said, still suspicious. It didn’t really matter, seeing as he was fairly sure that he could blow them both off the face of the planet.
“Just around campus, if it’s all right with you,” Tsuzuki said, smiling at him benevolently.
“What the hell, it’s not like doing my homework means much anyway,” Kamui said, and began to walk away, trusting the other two to follow.
“What we are,” Hisoka explained, catching up, “is sort of supernatural detectives. We’re investigating the death of someone who I think was a friend of yours.”
“Oh, you mean Kotori,” Kamui stated flatly.
“Aa,” Hisoka replied. “Do you know what happened to her?”
“What does it matter?” Kamui asked, irritated. “She’s dead. You’re not the police.”
“She wasn’t in the Kiseki,” Tsuzuki said. At Kamui’s puzzled look, he added, “That means that it wasn’t necessarily her time to die, and her soul hasn’t yet moved on to the correct place. We’re supposed to find out why.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Kamui said. “Isn’t that just perfect.”
Hisoka raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, she was ripped apart by her brother in a spectacularly messy ending,” Kamui stated, still in the same flat tone.
Hisoka and Tsuzuki exchanged looks. “Any idea why he did that?” Hisoka finally asked.
“Because I was stupid enough to think that I could save them by trying to save the world,” Kamui replied. “Go me.”
Hisoka glanced at Tsuzuki, frowning as the older man flinched. He didn’t say anything, but stored the information away for future reference. “Save the world?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, haven’t you heard?” Kamui asked, in a falsely cheerful tone. “My fated destiny? My name and everything? End of the world?”
“I’d think I would’ve gotten a memo,” Hisoka replied lightly. He glanced at Tsuzuki. “You know anything about this?”
“Uh . . . I might’ve heard something about it,” Tsuzuki mumbled.
Hisoka gave him a glare that promised future grilling, then sighed. “Kamui-san, why did your friend kill his sister? Specifically, if you could.”
“Here’s the Reader’s Digest version,” Kamui said. “I was born in the wrong time and the wrong place, and now I get to decide to either save humanity or end humanity. So, trying to save Fuuma and Kotori because they’re the only people who’ve ever given a shit about me, I decided to save humanity. At which point, as soon as I made my decision, Fuuma turned into Hitler, Charles Manson, and all four teletubbies rolled into one. Figuratively, of course. Otherwise he’d be pretty ugly.”
Hisoka blinked at this statement. “Why did he suddenly turn into all that?”
“Because stupid me didn’t realize that whatever side I didn’t take, somebody had to, and apparently it was him. If you’d gotten a memo, I would’ve liked the handbook.”
“Would you have chosen differently?” Tsuzuki asked quietly. “If you had known?”
“I have no clue,” Kamui said, shoving his hair out of his face.
Hisoka blinked. “Ne, Kamui-san . . . you have purple eyes, like Tsuzuki.”
“Yet another miracle,” Kamui said.
“It’s just odd,” Hisoka said thoughtfully. “I’d never seen anyone with purple eyes before.” He shrugged. “Do you know where we can find Fuuma?”
Kamui shrugged. “Follow the path of blood?”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Hisoka said, rolling his eyes.
“Really, I have no idea. I’m sure if I stand on a rooftop and wave my arms around, he’ll be back to torture me, if you want.”
“That’s all right,” Tsuzuki spoke up again. “But can we leave you our number so you can call us if you see him again?”
“If I see him again, you’ll know. There’ll be another bloodbath.”
“We’ll give you a number anyway,” Tsuzuki said, scribbled it down on a piece of paper, and handed it to him. “And if you need anything, let us know. We can help.”
“You can help,” Kamui said skeptically. “What’ve you got to offer?”
Tsuzuki shrugged. “Protection. That’s all.”
“How?”
Hisoka sighed. “You really don’t know what a Shinigami is, do you.”
“No clue,” Kamui admitted. “But I know that Fuuma has phenomenal cosmic power.”
“Yeah, well, I know that Tsuzuki can summon Suzaku all by himself,” Hisoka said, causing Tsuzuki to blush slightly and look embarrassed.
“Okay then!” Kamui said brightly. “I’ll call if I need anything.”
“Thanks,” Tsuzuki said. “We’ll see you later.” He turned and walked away, obviously expecting Hisoka to follow.
“My life just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Kamui remarked to himself, before turning to go in the other direction.
~~~~
Chapter Six
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