Notes: Okay, yeah, I know Tsuzuki is falling out of the story. He's hiding, damnit. He doesn't like us anymore. He'll be making a reappearance shortly, I swear.
Chapter Eight
Fuuma sighed. It had been almost two weeks since he’d wrought any havoc at all. Kamui was getting complacent. It really wasn’t good at all. He didn’t really look forward to wreaking havoc, but it had to be done. “Hey, Kazuki, wanna go kick some ass with me?”
Nataku looked up from where he was halfway through the E volume. “Maybe.”
“Only maybe?”
“Exploding is fun but being mean isn’t as fun.”
“It’s okay, you won’t have to do anything unless I get into trouble, and then you’ll just be protecting me.”
“Can I explode something?”
Fuuma choked back a snicker. “Yeah, sure.”
“Good.”
Fuuma stuck his head into Kakyou’s room. He’d managed to wobble his way to the armchair in the room and was reading next to his plants. “Yo, Kyou. I’m going out to blow up a kekkai. Which one should I blow up?”
“The one with the ugliest building.”
“I meant that as a serious-you-see-the-future question,” Fuuma said, half-smiling.
“Oh. Well then. Try Ikebukuro.”
“Where the hell is that?”
“Sunshine 60 Plaza.”
“Ah, gotcha. See you later, I’m off to destroy the world.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh, whatever.” Fuuma bounded out of the room with Nataku in tow. He didn’t feel like recruiting Satsuki and Yuuto never seemed to do anything useful. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Seishirou since their first meeting and quite frankly didn’t care enough to hunt the man down. The same went for Kusanagi, as well. Interesting that the two defectors were a tree hugger and an assassin.
He took a taxi to Sunshine 60, seeing as the Antichrist (sort of) shouldn’t have to walk anywhere, and bought Nataku an ice cream cone before starting to blow things up. Predictably, Kamui showed up in a matter of minutes.
“Konnichi wa, Kamui!” Fuuma called cheerfully from where he was standing on top of one of the jutting rocks. A few more explosions and the whole kekkai was going to come down, but this was a perfect chance to make Kamui hate him a little more. He jumped down to land in front of him, simulatneously blowing Kamui backwards. He was careful to use enough energy to hurt, but not to wound seriously. Not this early in the battle. Kamui went flying backwards and landed on his back, skidding to a halt against a nearby post.
Fuuma landed lightly and walked over, kicking Kamui hard in the stomach and sending him flying backwards. Kamui let out a choked cry, and Fuuma only managed just in time to not flinch.
It wasn’t enough, though. Fuuma watched impassively as Kamui struggled to his feet, then had an idea. He shook himself slightly and wavered on his feet. “Kamui?” he asked, feigning a dazed look.
Kamui looked at him suspiciously. “Fuuma . . .?”
Fuuma stumbled forward, glad that Nataku was off blowing something else up and not witnessing this little act of his. “You . . . you’re hurt . . .”
Kamui looked at him. He didn’t trust it, no matter how much he wanted to.
Fuuma frowned and looked around. “Where . . . where are we? What happened?”
Kamui blinked. He reached out hesitantly with one hand, as if to test the reality of the situation. “Fuuma . . .”
He stumbled, forcing Kamui to put an arm around him to keep him from falling. “I don’t . . . I don’t remember . . .”
“It’s okay,” Kamui said reassuringly.
“No, I don’t think it is.” Fuuma reached over and touched Kamui’s cheek, then, before the smaller boy could react, put his hand around Kamui’s throat and lifted him off the ground.
Kamui choked and clawed at Fuuma’s hands, kicking out. His eyes widened, and not just from the pain.
Fuuma let loose a blast at close range, holding Kamui while it hit him. That was definitely going to leave marks.
“I . . . want Fuuma back . . .” Kamui managed.
“Whine, whine, whine,” Fuuma said with a sigh. “Don’t you get it yet, Kamui? There is no Fuuma. There’s just me.”
“That’s not true,” Kamui said desperately.
“Kamui!” a new voice shouted, and Fuuma glanced over, interested. One of the Seals, apparently. This would be interesting. He could hurt them, after all; they weren’t Kamui. That would probably piss Kamui off right good, too. He glanced over as a star-shaped kekkai was raised.
“So you made a kekkai?” he asked Subaru, nearly doing a double-take at the man’s singularly bizarre Wish. “Leaving all the uninvolved outside. You know, if I want to leave it, the quickest way is to kill the creator.”
“Subaru!” Kamui shouted, struggling to get free.
Fuuma took that as a good sign. Kamui was obviously pretty fond of the man; at the moment his strongest Wish was that they would both escape unharmed. Too bad he wasn’t going to grant that Wish.
He would grant Subaru’s instead.
Nataku, noting all this, decided it was high time he stopped blowing things up and went to help daddy. He did his best, but Subaru was quite a skilled opponent, and kept dodging the scarves Nataku sent flying his way.
“Looks like he’s quite a guy,” Fuuma said, putting a hand on Nataku’s shoulder. “Let me have a go.” He leaned very close to Kamui for a minute. “Don’t worry . . . I’ll come back and play with you later.”
“Fuuma!” Kamui choked out, as Fuuma released him. Before he could do more than twitch, Fuuma wrapped him in wires that he’d ripped from the building. Kamui struggled to get free but couldn’t even manage to loosen them.
“Watch after Kamui for me,” Fuuma said to Nataku with a smile, taking his singed scarf and letting it float in the air around him.
“Stop! FUUMA!” Kamui pulled vainly against the wires.
Fuuma was having a pretty good time fighting Subaru. The older man was skilled, fast, and powerful, and kept staring at him blatantly, thinking that he looked like Seishirou. Fuuma was a bit insulted; he considered himself much better looking than Seishirou. It was also sort of amusing to bounce around and read what had happened right off of Subaru’s shocked expression. By the time the first five minutes were over, he knew exactly what had happened, and found it quite interesting indeed.
“If you don’t concentrate, your kekkai will break,” Fuuma said, then tacked onto the end, “Subaru-kun.”
He watched as Subaru’s eyes widened, and then let loose a blast that probably would’ve fried his kekkai even if he was paying attention. As it was, it totally shattered, knocking Subaru backwards and sending several large shards of glass through his body. Fuuma shrugged. That hadn’t been precisely intentional, but he’d recover.
He glanced over as Kamui tried yet again to free himself, screaming Subaru’s name, then smiled slightly as he heard Nataku.
“You’re only hurting yourself more. Why do you do such useless things?”
That was Nataku, all right.
“Shut up!” Kamui yelled at him. “I won’t let anyone else die right in front of me!”
Nataku blinked at him, uncomprehending.
Fuuma walked over and kicked Subaru in the side, then tipped the man’s face upwards with his boot.
“Sei . . . shirou . . .” Subaru managed, staring up at him. “Why . . . do you and Seishirou . . .”
“Look so much alike?” Fuuma surmised for him, saving him the energy, taking Subaru’s chin in his hand and lifting it up. “Because . . . you Wish it to be so.”
He had no idea why Subaru disliked his eye so much, but hey, who was he to question? Blood splashed everywhere, and Fuuma let Subaru fall to the ground.
“SUBARU!” Kamui finally managed to break free of his restraints, seemingly intent on blowing Fuuma clear off the map.
“The kekkai is broken,” Fuuma observed, halting Kamui in his tracks. “That means that he’s close to death.”
Kamui paused, uncertain. “Fuuma . . .”
“If the rest of Sunshine falls, the entire area will be destroyed,” Fuuma said conversationally, watching Kamui walked over to Subaru and gather the man into his arms. He forced back the twinge of jealousy. “The Kekkai at Ikebukuro is broken. I suggest that you get the hell out of here.”
“Fuuma!” Kamui yelled as Fuuma turned to go. “Wait!”
“We’ll see each other again, Kamui,” Fuuma said, poised to leap off the building. “Because I’ll be coming to kill you.”
He leapt off the building with Nataku in tow and watched as the buildings fell.
~~~~
Kamui huddled on the seat next to Subaru’s bed, clutching the older man’s hand in his. He was simultaneously depressed and furious with himself. It seemed like he could never protect the people he cared about. And it wasn’t as if he tried and failed; it was just that there was never anything he could do.
He couldn’t stop wondering if Fuuma had really come back for a moment, and if so, what had caused the change. Or maybe Fuuma had just been messing with him; it wasn’t as if he’d never tried that before. And Subaru had no idea and Kamui was peripherally aware that he was bandaged in quite a few places and he hurt like hell.
He glanced over as the door opened and Sorata and Arashi came in, holding a bouquet of flowers. “So he’s sleeping,” Sorata said.
“Yeah,” Kamui said, wondering why Sorata had felt it necessary to point out the obvious. “They gave him something.”
“Are you all right?” Sorata asked, giving him and his bandages a measuring look.
Kamui nodded, then jumped slightly as Subaru’s hand twitched in his. Everyone looked over as Subaru’s eye opened.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled vaguely. “Because of me . . .”
“There’s no reason to be sorry, Subaru-san,” Sorata said, in the tone of voice he usually used to comfort Kamui when he was depressed. Surprisingly, it sounded fairly normal directed at Subaru. “We’re the ones who should be sorry . . . we couldn’t get there in time.”
Sorata glanced at Subaru as the older man gave him a look. A ‘get Kamui the hell out of the room’ look. “Ah, is there a vase around here somewhere?”
Kamui looked up slowly, looking almost as drugged as Subaru. “I think I saw one somewhere,” he said vaguely. Then again, he was almost as drugged as Subaru; he hadn’t asked for painkillers, but the doctors had given some to him when they’d been bandaging his wounds.
“Why don’t you go with neesan here and put the flowers away?” Sorata suggested.
“Uh . . .” Kamui managed. Arashi took him by the arm and gently led him out of the room.
Sorata appropriated Kamui’s chair. “You wanted to talk to me?”
Subaru managed a slight nod. “Please . . . take Kamui home. He was there . . . he blames himself, and he’s wounded as well . . . if this keeps up . . . he’s going to fall apart . . . and this is really all my fault . . .”
Sorata nodded. “I gotcha. I’ll get him home and put him to bed.”
“Thanks . . .”
Sorata hesitated. “And . . . your eye?”
“It’s blind.”
Sorata flinched, but oddly enough, Subaru seemed quite calm about this fact. In fact, Sorata would have ventured to say that Subaru didn’t seem to care about the loss of his eye in the slightest. Still, it seemed best to ask. “No chance of recovery?”
“None,” Subaru replied, still in that calm, even tone.
“And Kamui?” Sorata asked.
“He knows,” Subaru said. “The doctors told him earlier . . . they thought I was asleep. But,” he added softly, almost to himself, “this was what I had wished for . . .”
Sorata looked confused, but Kamui came in with Arashi and a vase of flowers.
“We shouldn’t stay so long,” Sorata said to Arashi, with false cheer, giving Kamui a significant look. “Subaru-san needs to rest, so let’s go. You too, Kamui.”
“But . . .” Kamui protested, looking vaguely liked a kicked puppy.
“They’ll take care of him,” Sorata said reassuringly. “And you’re about to fall flat on your face, and that won’t help him a bit. Okay?”
Kamui looked askance at Subaru, who smiled. “It’s best if you go home for now,” he managed.
He nodded slightly, leaning down. “Can I . . . come here again?” he asked hesitantly.
Subaru just smiled his answer.
~~~~
Sorata pestered Kamui all the way home, trying to either cheer him up or convince him that the whole mess wasn’t his fault. Kamui replied to everything with one-word sentences. Sorata gave up after the first ten minutes or so and decided to just try to get Kamui to sleep when they got home.
Unfortunately, the blonde boy standing in their living room didn’t seem conducive to that.
“I let him in,” Yuzuriha explained, then leaned over and gave Kamui a very careful hug. “Feel better, ne, ne?” she asked before bouncing out of the room.
Kamui stared at Keiichi. “Why are you here?” he asked, wide-eyed.
Keiichi blinked back. “You were supposed to be at dinner last night. When you didn’t come, and you weren’t in school today, I got kinda worried, so I decided to drop by.”
Kamui’s face immediately turned red. “I stood you up!” he realized suddenly. “I totally forgot! I’m sorry!” With that, he thudded to the floor and started to cry.
Sorata stared at him. Of all the things to start crying over after the day he’d had, really. Still, Keiichi seemed better equipped to handle this, so he left the room and let the two of them have their privacy.
Keiichi knelt on the floor next to Kamui and pulled the smaller boy into a hug. “Hey, it’s nothing to cry about,” he said, noting the bandages but not bringing them up . . . yet. “Don’t worry.”
Kamui just kept crying and babbling about being sorry. Keiichi wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for, but he doubted it was dinner.
Sorata stuck his head back into the room. “He’s kinda drugged up on painkillers, by the way,” he said brightly. “So, uh, that might explain a lot.” He left the room before Keiichi could reply.
Keiichi waited until Kamui seemed to have stopped crying and ventured a question. “What happened?”
Kamui managed to babble something about the earthquake. He didn’t want to tell the truth, but he didn’t think he was coherent enough to come up with a convincing lie.
“Then why are you so worried about missing dinner?” Keiichi asked, running his fingers through Kamui’s hair. “I mean, it’s obvious that you were hurt and stuff . . .”
“It was just . . . just . . . I wanted to go!”
“Well, come over for dinner tomorrow instead then,” Keiichi said, unable to comprehend what had Kamui so upset.
Kamui sniffled. “It’s not too much trouble?”
“No, don’t worry about it. Actually, we had some trouble with the earthquake too,” Keiichi added, understating the case remarkably.
“What happened?” Kamui asked, wiping his eyes.
“Uhm . . . small matter of our housebeingdestroyed but it’s okay!”
“Did you say your house was . . . dead?” Kamui asked, apparently unable to manage words as long as destroyed.
“Well, yeah, but we had insurance, so we’ll just get an apartment for a while. We’re living with mom’s sister for a few days.”
Kamui blinked. “I . . . I could cook dinner for you instead . . . and for your mom . . .”
Keiichi grinned. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”
“It’s okay,” Kamui said vaguely.
“You know, though,” Keiichi said, becoming more serious, “we’re really lucky that we had that dinner date. Mom was out shopping for dinner and I was waiting for you at the subway station when the earthquake happened . . . otherwise we both probably would have been killed.”
Kamui’s eyes went wide. “That would be awful!” he managed, and attached himself to Keiichi.
Keiichi blinked down at him. “Uh . . . thanks?” he tried.
“No more dead,” Kamui mumbled into his shirt. “No more hurt. Nothing bad.”
“Kamui, I think you need some sleep,” Keiichi said.
“Maybe.”
Keiichi stood up and easily lifted Kamui with him. “You also need to put on some weight,” he remarked, carrying Kamui up the stairs.
“I’m moving,” Kamui observed.
“Yeah. Which one’s your room?”
Kamui waved vaguely at the appropriate door. Keiichi nudged it open with his foot and plunked Kamui down on the bed, then took off his shoes and drew the covers over him. “Get some rest, okay?”
“You’re gonna go?” Kamui asked, sounding a bit upset by this.
Keiichi shrugged. “I could stay if you want.”
Kamui nodded, smiling slightly.
“Okay. Sure.”
~~~~
Kakyou hadn’t seen Fuuma since he’d come in the night before, bloody and looking oddly pensive. He had still been sitting in the living room at the time, seeing as no one had yet bothered to help him back to bed, and had tried to ask what had happened. If he’d thought about it beforehand, he probably could have Seen it, but now it was past and out of his domain.
Fuuma had brushed off his hesitant question and locked himself into his own room, so Kakyou had turned to Nataku, who had given him the basic details. He didn’t understand why Fuuma seemed so upset, but Kakyou did, and had spent most of the night worrying. Not that he would ever admit this, of course.
On the whole, Kakyou was fairly pleased when Fuuma bounced into his room the next afternoon as if nothing was wrong, holding a shopping bag in one hand. “Yo, Kyou-chan. How are you feeling?”
Kakyou looked up from the book he’d been pretending to read. “I hurt everywhere,” he said in answer.
“Really?” Fuuma asked, thudding into the armchair. He had cleaned himself off and obviously recently taken a shower; his hair was still wet. Kakyou did his best not to stare. “Physical therapy, huh?”
“I think physical therapy is just a not so clever disguise for torture,” Kakyou told him.
“Nah,” Fuuma said with a shrug and his usual lopsided smirk. “You’re just not trying hard enough, that’s all.”
“I don’t see how enthusiasm will make my pathetic muscles hurt less,” Kakyou said absently, setting the book aside.
“Me neither, really, but it sounded good.” Fuuma reached into the bag and brought something out with a flourish. “Hey, I brought you some ice cream.” He plopped a half-gallon of mint chocolate chip down on Kakyou’s lap, along with a spoon.
Kakyou blinked down at the sheer amount of the ice cream. “Thanks,” he finally said. “You want some?”
Fuuma pulled a second spoon out of the bag with a grin. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Kakyou laughed. “Sneaky.”
“Hey, I’ll admit that I bought more than I knew you could eat because I wanted some. That’s no crime, is it? After all, it’s my money.” He took a spoonful and ate it. “Well, Kanoe’s money, but I’ve earned it.”
“By all means, spend it,” Kakyou said with a slight smile, starting to eat the ice cream with relative enthusiasm. He wasn’t quite used to anything being so cold.
“That’s my general plan,” Fuuma said. “So what’d you do in physical therapy today?”
“I stood up,” Kakyou said. “Soon I’ll be running marathons.”
“Hey, standing up is good progress,” Fuuma reminded him.
“What about you?” Kakyou asked.
“I slept in. Had a busy day yesterday, popping out eyeballs.”
Kakyou blinked. Nataku hadn’t mentioned anything about eyeballs. “Why?” he finally asked.
Fuuma shrugged. “In a twisted way, he didn’t really want that eye anyway.”
“Who didn’t want what eye?” Kakyou asked.
“Uh, one of the Seals. Sumeragi something-or . . . Subaru! Right, Kamui screamed it about eight times. How could I forget?”
Kakyou blinked. “You’re screwed.”
“Huh? Why am I screwed?” Fuuma sounded understandably dismayed by this bizarre news.
“Because the Sakurazukamori is going to want to come in here and play castanets with your head.”
“Who, Seishirou? He’s a weenie anyway. I can handle him. What the hell does he care, anyway?”
“Because Subaru . . . belongs to him in a twisted, twisted way.”
Fuuma blinked. “Oh, well, that’s why Subaru wanted to lose the eye. He thought I looked like Seishirou. It was this whole weird thing, and I managed to get most of the details when I was fighting him. He didn’t seem to think that Seishirou cared for him in the slightest, so I don’t know why he’d care.”
“I don’t know why he’d care either, but trust me, he will.”
Fuuma frowned suddenly. “Uh, why do you know all this?”
“Remember Hokuto?”
“How could I not?”
“Hokuto was Subaru’s twin sister.”
Fuuma thought back on everything he’d seen in Subaru’s mind, and it all fell into place. “Okay, that would make sense. I’ll have to get the full story from you sometime, but I don’t feel like it right now.”
“So, how did you know that he didn’t want his eye?” Kakyou asked curiously.
“It’s just this thing that I can do,” Fuuma said with a shrug. “Seeing what people want.”
“What do I want?” Kakyou asked. At the moment, he was longing to go outside. He hadn’t been outside in nine years and had been dying to ask for days, but hadn’t wanted to be a nuisance.
“In a grand sense, or specifically at the moment?” Fuuma asked, eating a huge spoonful of ice cream.
“You can differentiate?” Kakyou asked, sounding nervous.
“Depends on how well I know them,” Fuuma said with a slight shrug. “Like Kamui? I’ve got him pegged. Random people on the streets, it’s a little harder to tell.”
“Ah,” Kakyou said, taking another small spoonful. “So what do I want right now?”
Fuuma picked up the ice cream and took the spoon away from him, putting both on a side table. Then he got an arm around Kakyou’s shoulders and one underneath his knees, lifting him up easily. Then he marched out of the room, carrying Kakyou with him. “I find I learn best interactively,” he said cheerfully, walking towards the elevator.
Kakyou just laughed, putting arm around Fuuma’s neck, nominally for the purpose of keeping his balance. He just couldn’t quite resist. “The ice cream will melt,” he pointed out.
“I’ll buy more,” Fuuma replied, entering the elevator. “Not like I don’t have enough cash. And it’s all worth it to carry you.”
“Fuuma, you’re a shamless hussy,” Kakyou said with a smile.
“Nice!” Fuuma replied. “I’ve never gotten called that before.”
“Glad I could help,” Kakyou remarked, glancing around at the stares they were getting as they walked through the lobby towards the large glass doors. At least, he reflected, he was in a kimono instead of that horrid hospital gown.
Fuuma walked outside, surreptitiously using his telekinesis to hold the doors open so he’d be able to get through them. He put Kakyou down on one of the wooden benches and plopped down next to him. “This better?”
“Much, thank you,” Kakyou said, taking a deep breath of the quasi-fresh air. “And thank you for the flowers.”
“No problem,” Fuuma replied with a grin, draping his arm casually around Kakyou’s shoulders.
“You know, that would be very presumptuous of you if I wasn’t having trouble staying upright,” Kakyou told him.
“Presumptuous is my middle name,” Fuuma replied.
“Mm hmm,” Kakyou replied. “So I had an interesting visitor last night.”
“Oh?” Fuuma asked, looking slightly startled. Kakyou didn’t normally get much in the way of visitors.
“Yeah. The Slut’s sister. The Kewpie Doll.”
“What’s up with the dollchick?”
“She’s scary beyond all reason. She was fucking up my visions.”
Fuuma blinked, startled to hear Kakyou was swear, and even more startled by the news he had delivered. “Huh? How was she doing that? I thought you were like the Ass Kicker of all Dreamgazers.”
“I am,” Kakyou said, with a small note of pride in his voice. “She shouldn’t be able to. She’s messing with things somehow. That’s what I meant by she’s scary.”
Fuuma pondered this for a long minute. “Well, not much I can do about it, you know.”
“I know. But if she ever eels her way into my dreams again I’m going to kick her so hard that her head falls off her physical body.”
Fuuma nodded and grinned. “You kick her ass, Kakyou.”
“I figured you’d want to know. She’s doing something, and it may mess up your plans.” Kakyou was at this point blatantly leaning on Fuuma, having given up both on keeping his distance and keeping upright.
“I’ll keep an eye out.” Fuuma paused, then winced. “No pun intended. And to think that you thought you weren’t worth having around.”
Kakyou’s forehead wrinkled. “Well, I’m not worth much, but my dreams are worth something. Everyone seems to know that.”
“Don’t be such a dink, Kyou-chan.” Fuuma ruffled his hair lightly. “It’s not like I keep you around so you can Dreamgaze for me.”
“I know. You keep me for my good looks and charm,” Kakyou added brightly.
“Charm, nah, good looks, partly.” Fuuma winked at him. “I have my reasons.”
“And what are those, O Mysterious One?” Kakyou asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Fuuma reached over and tapped Kakyou on the nose, still smiling. “It’s a secret.”
“Well, make sure you don’t dream about them, then,” Kakyou told him, wrinkling his nose in response to the light touch.
Fuuma laughed. “I’ll do my best.” He paused, then asked pensively, “Why do you put up with me? You seemed to hate me at first.”
“I hated everyone,” Kakyou answered with a small sigh.
Fuuma frowned. “And I changed your mind?” he asked skeptically.
“You seemed like everyone else at first,” Kakyou said with a shrug. “But then . . . you knocked. You didn’t have to. I mean, you could have kept coming and going as you pleased, but you took the time to have some consideration.” He shrugged slightly, the kimono shifting with the movement. “So I figured I’d give you a chance.”
“Well, I can’t be a dick all the time,” Fuuma replied, with a shrug in reply. “And you seem to be the only person interested in letting me not be a dick. So I guess it makes sense.”
“It does. Not getting along with the other Angels so well?” Kakyou asked curiously.
“Ah, no, I get along with them fine,” Fuuma said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s just not me getting along with them. It’s the other me. You know. That guy that pokes people’s eyes out.” He paused. “God, listen to me, I sound crazy. I always knew it’d happen someday . . .”
Kakyou smiled slightly. “You know, you’re really funny when you want to be.” He picked slightly at the kimono. “Yuuto might not be so bad,” he added. Yuuto had brought him the kimono the day before, saying he doubted the hospital gown was comfortable and this ought to fit well enough to make do for the time being.
“Thanks,” Fuuma said. “It’s nice to know I’m good at something. And yeah, Yuuto’s okay. I just can’t really let anyone else see me being nice. Except Kazuki.”
“Daddy’s little girl,” Kakyou agreed. “Or is it boy?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” Fuuma said, pushing his hair out of his face. “The day I understand Nataku will be a great day indeed.”
“You’re good at a lot of things,” Kakyou said belatedly. “Your good looks and charm, for instance.”
“Charm only gets you so far when there’s only one person you can use it on,” Fuuma remarked.
Kakyou sighed. “I’d say something useful if there was anything I could say.”
“Nah, it’s okay,” Fuuma replied with a shrug. “I didn’t mean to get quasi-angsty on you. You’re all the company I need.”
Kakyou smiled, flattered. “Thank you.”
Fuuma smirked. “Well, you’ll notice I didn’t pick any of the other Angels to hang around with.”
“Why did you pick me?” Kakyou asked curiously.
Fuuma frowned slightly, pondering the question. “I suppose it was partly the process of elimination, since none of the others were options. But it wasn’t that, really. I guess it was because you were the only one I thought might understand.”
“Ah.”
“And, of course, your good looks and charm,” Fuuma added.
Kakyou smiled slightly, pondered this for a good long minute, then changed the subject. “Think we can shamelessly spend more of the Slut’s money tomorrow? I only have this one outfit.”
Fuuma’s eyes lit up and a slow grin spread over his face. “You. Want me. To take you shopping. In Tokyo.”
Kakyou got slightly shifty-eyed. “Maybe.”
“Hadn’t we better wait until you can stand, try on clothes, that sort of thing?” Fuuma suggested.
Kakyou nodded. “But I still need something beside this one kimono. Otherwise we’re all going to get very sick of it.”
“Well, tell you what,” Fuuma said. “I’ll get a wheelchair for you tomorrow and we’ll get some loose stuff that we’ll be sure fits. Then when you’re better, I’ll take you shopping for real.”
Kakyou made a face at the very idea of being steered around in a wheelchair all day. “Wheelchair. So undignified.” He sighed slightly. “But I supposed it’ll have to do.”
“Well, I could carry you around all day,” Fuuma replied with a grin.
“Even you, Mr. Muscles, would get tired.”
“I could use my telekinesis to float you . . .”
“That would draw even more attention than you could handle.”
“I was kidding.” Fuuma poked Kakyou in the ribs.
“So was I,” Kakyou replied, swatting at Fuuma’s hand.
“Then you’ll have to settle for a wheelchair,” Fuuma said. He poked Kakyou again, earning himself another swat, before reaching around him and tickling his side.
“Ack!” Kakyou slapped vainly at Fuuma’s hands, trying to squirm away.
Fuuma subsided with a huge grin. “You’re ticklish! That’s great!”
“No it isn’t!” Kakyou gasped out, totally out of breath.
“Well, it is for me,” Fuuma said with a grin. “But I’ll be good. For today.”
~~~~
Chapter Nine
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