Dive to Blue copyright 1999 to L'Arc~en~Ciel.
Fushigi Yuugi and all characters are property of Watase Yuu.

THE ROOSTER [THE BEGINNING]
Agression. Alertness. Perfection.

Work was unusually slow that morning. The three C-130s had come in as scheduled, and there were a pair of F-16s needing routine maintenance, but other than that, the flight line was a dead place. I stared out my window at the drab gray sky, ignoring the pinging of my computer speakers, which meant that I had more email. More reports, more paperwork, more everything.
I enjoyed my job and I was proud to serve my country, but sometimes I wanted a break.
There was a knock on my door and I straightened, moving the mouse so that the screensaver turned off, made it look like I had been working. Or at least trying.
"Come in. It's unlocked."
I thought it might be Captain Guerrero, who this morning had graciously volunteered to buy all the officers lunch. Or perhaps Sergeant Hale, coming to deliver the flight check reports so I could sign them off and send them up the chain. Instead, the door opened to reveal a young airman wearing a perplexed expression and who obviously had been running.
"Captain Cartwright?"
"That's me," I said, smiling a bit, trying to put the poor airman at ease. She looked faintly terrified. "What business brings you to my door?"
"Captain, there's someone waiting for you in the front lobby."
I frowned. "Who?"
The airman shook her head. "I'm not sure. He wouldn't give his name, just said that he was here to talk to you and that you were expecting him."
I sure as hell hadn't been expecting anyone today, and for a minute I was tempted to tell her to politely ask whoever my mysterious visitor was to get lost. In the nicest way possible, of course. I glanced at the gray sky out the window. At my computer. At the pile of plans and memos on the right corner of my desk.
"I'll come see him," I said.
The front lobby was a small room with a clear dome made of plexiglass, staring into a sky which was usually sunny, with the shadows of fighters and tankers passing over the tiled floor. Today the room was dreary. Someone had turned on the tiny lights that lined the floor around the circular room in an attempt to cheer the mood. It helped some.
My visitor was sitting on one of the benches next to the wall, glancing around at the various photos and plaques adorning the smooth surface. He rose as I entered the room, smiling.
"Joseph Braden-Scott," he said. "British Special Forces agent." Took a step forward, then his eyes flicked over my face again and he blinked in surprise.
I did a double-take.
"I know you," he said cautiously, frowning, half-raising his hand as if he wasn't sure whether I'd return the handshake. I gestured to the airman that she could leave, making sure she was well out of hearing range before I moved closer to the man who was standing, watching me.
He was dressed in civilian clothes, his hair a rich shade of brown. It had obviously been freshly cut and styled, and his fancy brown suit wasn't exactly something one would find in any department store. A silver ring glinted on his finger as he raised his arm up the rest of the way to grasp my offered hand. I had only seen him once, a year ago, hovering in that place between life and death, as the Gods had decided our destiny once again, but there was no doubt.
Suzaku shichi seishi…Nuriko?
Joe - Nuriko - might be in town for a few days, Yui had told me on the phone three days ago, a friendly call out of nowhere to check up on me. She did that from time to time. I enjoyed talking to her. He's been dispatched to Tokyo. Maybe we can get together.
Maybe, I had said, not affirming, not declining. It had been a year, after all, but a year had not yet been enough time for me to fully understand all that had happened. I needed more time. To think. To sort out everything that I believed about myself, had believed about myself.
I wasn't sure if I would ever accomplish that, even if I had all the time in the world.
"What brings you here?" I said quietly. There was really nothing to say, no happy greeting, because we really weren't on the best of terms. Even with…all we'd been through.
He shook my hand solemnly before releasing it and rubbing the back of his other hand through his hair. "I, well…" Suddenly, he gave a little laugh. "I certainly didn't expect to find you here."
"I'm an Air Force officer," I reminded him. "You know I'm at this base."
The silence was still uncomfortable, and he hesitated a little before responding. "The agency dispatched me on an investigation, and my contact point was a Captain Cartwright at Yokota Air Base…" He frowned again. "But that can't be right, because the airman who directed me here said this was a maintenance facility?"
I nodded. "That's right."
"I'm looking for the OSI building." Looking slightly flustered. "I'm a bother…I'm sorry."
I laid a hand on his shoulder as he turned, preparing to leave. "Access to the OSI building is restricted. You're going to have to go back to main headquarters and fill out some paperwork before you can see anyone in there…Joe? That's what they call…called…you, isn't it?"
His smile was relaxed and open. "You can call me Joe. I'm terribly sorry about this mess, Captain. If-"
"Call me Phillip," I interrupted. "Look, it's no problem. Can't have a civilian wandering around base alone, anyway. I'll take you to headquarters."
"Really?" His smile was infectious, and I found myself smiling back.
"Really."
"Thank you so much!" As he seized my hand again, pumping it up and down, he must have noticed the wariness in my eyes. Releasing my hand, he stepped back. "You don't trust me?"
I shook my head. "Don't be ridiculous. Those times are long past. We're just regular humans now, living in a regular world. I just don't know you, that's all."
His eyes softened. "I understand. Don't…be too hard on yourself, all right?"
"Yui told me you were coming," I said. "I never expected to see you here, though."
"An innocent mistake." He let me lead the way out of the lobby, out the door, turning left on the road that led to headquarters. "Or perhaps it was destiny?"
I didn't answer. There was no way this meeting was the start of another divine scheme to interfere with my life. I liked my life. I was happy. I enjoyed my job, and I was proud of who I had become. If some animal deity a world and a lifetime away had a problem with that, I didn't care.
Joe didn't press me as we took to the sidewalk at a brisk walking pace. It was still drizzling and I hadn't brought an umbrella. For some reason - perhaps it was having him walking beside me - I was taken back to that dark night in Tokyo with the storm raging around us, knowing that somehow, some way, we had to get to our miko.
"Where were you, then?" I asked.
"What?" He sounded surprised. I didn't blame him. I hadn't meant to ask that out loud, but it was too late now.
"During that…typhoon. Where were you?"
"I was at Taka's house," he said. "Andy and Denis and I…we were staying with her. Miaka."
Headquarters was a large white building several stories high and I pulled the door open for him, indicating that the conversation was finished. He glanced at me uncomfortably as he passed through the entrance, but didn't say anything.
"May I help you?"
It was a civilian secretary at the front desk, smiling pleasantly at our entrance. I let the door close behind me and took off my cover. "Good morning."
"Good morning, Captain Cartwright," she said. "And you are…?"
Joe put out his hand. "Joseph Braden-Scott. Special Forces."
Her face cleared immediately. "Ah…yes. I was notified that you would be coming through." Rummaging through a stack of papers. "I need you to fill these out…"
Joe caught my look. "You can leave, Phillip," he said. "I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
I turned to go out the doorway, then hesitated. "Say…are you free tonight?"
He raised one eyebrow. "I plan to be. Why?"
"I was just…" I shifted. "Umm…if you'd like to go hang out somewhere…we could go down to Tokyo…there's some good bars and stuff…we could visit Taka and Miaka…."
He smiled wryly. "That sounds good. I'll give you a call when I'm done?"
"All right."
I smiled as I jammed my cover back on my head and headed out the door.


"If you would be more considerate, you would clean up your mess in the kitchen, aniki! Aniki? Hey! Jeff!"
His only response was a muffled grunt from inside the bedroom door where I assumed he was changing. Sighing, I began to clear the kitchen table, trying not to spill bread crumbs. The sky was bright and blue, heralding a beautiful Paris morning, the sun streaming down between wisps of cloud left over from last night's showers. I turned on the radio as I began to scrub the dishes, trying to decipher the gist of the commentator's running dialogue with my elementary French.
"We should have moved to Tokyo," I muttered.
"Steve, I'm not moving to Tokyo just so you can be with your girlfriend."
I turned slightly to see Jeff standing in the kitchen doorway, adjusting his shirt collar in the mirror. "You're welcome. I enjoy cleaning up after you."
He clapped me on the shoulder as he passed, picking up his flute from where it lay on the countertop next to piles of music. "I'm off. I should be back around three in the afternoon. Can you handle the flat on your own?"
"Jerk," I muttered, but I was smiling, and he knew it.
"Later." The front door slammed.
I finished washing the dishes, setting them on the rack to dry, and found the English morning news under a stack of French textbooks, tattered binders of music, and another of Jeff's mismatched socks. The radio was still muttering at my back as I sat down in the old armchair to read. A robbery in downtown Paris. The stock market rose two points. I leafed through the newspaper pages, eyes scanning headlines. Nothing of interest, as usual. Nothing ever really happened in Paris.
I'd moved in with Jeff about half a year ago, at his urging, after I'd graduated early from college. I could have stayed in the States, as there were several medical schools which had already sent me guarantees of acceptance if I just applied. I suppose I should have felt proud. My parents did, at any rate. They almost forgave me for running off to Japan so often to see Yui, whom they liked well enough, but were still wary of me dating, as they put it," a girl who you met once for about five minutes."
I couldn't very well explain that I had known her for a lot longer than five minutes, so I simply made an effort to show them that we were getting along well. They seemed to accept that.
I had been back in Boston for the winter break, not knowing where I was going to school next and not really caring, enjoying the break, when the phone rang. It was Jeff Cotorro.
I got your email about graduation, he said. Thought I'd call up to offer congratulations. It's been a while since we've talked.
Jeff had gone back to Paris, had started taking French lessons, and had moved into Stephan's old flat. It was an expensive part of town, but somehow he kept the money coming in. I suppose a world-renowned musician had practice in that sort of thing.
I still called him aniki. It was a comfortable habit both of us had slipped into, and he still sometimes called me Shun, though most of the time he simply shortened my English name to Steve. I didn't like most people calling me that, but coming from him, I decided I didn't mind it.
He had asked how I was doing, and I had told him that I still had no plans. It wasn't that I was unmotivated to continue my education, it was just that I felt like taking a break. Maybe travel, I said, musing aloud on the phone. Or maybe settle down in a foreign country for a while and learn another language. I liked languages.
What he said next took me completely by surprise, though I suppose it shouldn't have.
Would you like to come live with me in Paris?
I hadn't really thought about how much I missed him, because it was an unconscious part of me that did so. We hadn't known each other in this life, hadn't grown up together, hadn't known if the other had existed until we had been pulled together by fate, and I wasn't about to dwell on a brother who I did not have. I had a true brother, which suited me just fine. Tom was stationed at Fort Hood down in Texas and he and I rarely had the chance to talk, but he still took the time to send me little souvenirs from his travels whenever he was deployed somewhere interesting, and sometimes he would email or call.
Jeff was different. There was a tie stronger than blood that bound us together, and it was as if we'd always been brothers.
I had paused for a moment after he had asked me that, my mind calm, and then replied simply, "Yes, aniki. I would."
I left the house for the second time against my parents' objections. They'd never even met Jeff, though I assured him that I knew him very well, that no, he wasn't a classmate from school but we'd met in Japan, and yes, he really did have my best intentions in mind. My parents gave up arguing with me and packed me off with some pocket money, clothes, and a plane ticket.
Yui was obviously delighted with the new arrangement. Now I can talk to both of you at the same time! she'd exclaimed when I called her to tell her where I was going. Jeff had laughed, saying that our former miko sometimes reminded him of his mother.
I'd arrived in Paris on the fifteenth of January and Jeff was there to meet me at the airport. I wasn't sure what to expect from him, but I shouldn't have worried. It was as if we'd never parted.
It surprised me a little how fluent Jeff was in French now. I didn't speak a word of French, and Japanese would do me no good in Paris, so I took to going to night school and taking a part time job in the music school, which Jeff pulled some strings to get for me. I was considering some of the medical schools in Paris, but it was obvious that my French needed a lot of work before I could even think about staying permanently.
Jeff taught at the conservatory, leaving me alone during the daytime. I only worked Mondays and Wednesdays, and today was Tuesday.
I yawned and stretched and put the paper down, considered turning on the TV but it was in the living room, too far for me to walk. I sat there for a while, letting the sunrays warm my face, feeling my eyes close. I had only gotten three hours of sleep last night and two the night before. Jeff said I should go see a doctor for insomnia. Perhaps he was right.
You want to be a doctor, Shun, you have to take care of yourself first!
There was a knock on the door.
I jumped, blinking. Apparently I'd only drifted off for a few seconds, but my limbs felt stiff and I had trouble getting out of the chair to go answer the door.
It was a postal worker with a package. I was afraid he was going to strike up a conversation, but he only handed me the delivery slip politely and then clattered back down the stairs. I stared at the small, square package that lay on the garish welcome mat, then bent down and picked it up gingerly. Shook it. It didn't rattle, but something thumped back and forth inside.
The address label was written clearly in dark, striking, bold handwriting, addressed to Steven Grant. There was no return address. The thought crossed my mind for a brief moment that it could be a bomb, or some sort of prank package that would explode once I opened it. There was always something like that in the news.
Curiosity overcame my caution. The label didn't look like it was sent by a prankster, and I hadn't gotten mail in weeks. Maybe my parents had sent me something?
I closed the door on the bright sunshine and carried the package carefully to the kitchen table, keeping one eye on it as I threw the keys to the front door on the counter. Chewed my lip.
Hell, why not.
The box was covered with some sort of brown paper bag carefully sealed with tape, and my stubby fingernails couldn't even get hold of a corner to pull on. Frustrated, I stomped into my room in search of some scissors, couldn't find any. Crossed the hallway to Jeff's room.
Jeff had moved into Stephan's room and left his old room to me. Stephan's room wasn't big, but it was spacious with very little furniture, and everything was black and white. Black bedspread, white wooden furniture. Jeff had left the windows open and there was a cheerful breeze rustling the corners of the linen curtains.
I found a pair of scissors in the pencil box on the writing desk, was turning to leave when I spotted a wooden case sitting on the edge of Jeff's dresser. It was open. Curious, I crossed the room to look.
The case contained a Chinese flute, small but obviously hand-carved and very expensive. I touched it with one finger. The reed was cool to the touch, but I drew my hand back quickly.
Why the hell did Jeff have a Chinese flute?
I didn't know. I didn't think I wanted to know. I closed the case, clicking it shut with a hard snap, and left the room with the pair of scissors. My hands trembled as I cut the tape on the brown package, the shaking of my fingers contrasting sharply with the smooth line drawn by the movement of the scissors.
The wrapping fell away. I already knew what was inside the box as I opened it.
They were nestled snugly inside the box, as if new, as if just another present taken from a department store window and shipped by special delivery. The lines lay coiled tightly around the ryuuseisui, and as if in slow motion, I reached inside the box, lifted them out, lay them on the table.
I didn't know what I expected to happen, but nothing did. They just lay there in the bright sunshine, harmless and peaceful. I almost wished that there'd be some trace of dirt, of blood, on them, but they were clean. And yet they were mine. I knew, with a warrior's intuition, that these were mine.
Clutching them to my chest, I hurried back to Jeff's room, to the Chinese flute that lay still and quiet within its protective velvet lining in the wooden case. The ryuuseisui dangled limply from my hands as I stood in front of the dresser mirror, staring at my reflection. For a moment I thought I could see the blood of those innocent children still dripping from my hands.
There was something next to the flute case in the mirror that I hadn't noticed before, and I looked down from the reflection of the dresser top to the object that winked in the sunlight, glittering.
It was a small, round earring.


I dreamed.
The dreams came more frequently now, and I welcomed them and hated them at the same time. The tang of the wind was sharp in my nostrils and I could hear the call of the pack even in my deep slumber, where I tossed and turned and woke in the morning feeling more tired than I had been when I had fallen asleep.
The dreams were of storm-swept plains, lightning raining down upon mountains and rain pelting in huge sheets across the wilderness. Caves and grottoes and dying lands that held no meaning for a human but were haven to the wolf.
The cries of the packs tugged at my heart and I'd wake up trembling, my heart pounding, looking at my hands, my skin, touching my face to make sure I was still human.
I had no idea why I was dreaming. I had no idea why I dreamed of the wolves.
Find us, they whispered. Come find us. You belong here.


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