Sepia Architecture
Misaki wilted as she took in the numerous boxes littered across the floorboards. Her job was becoming more and more overwhelming with each room she entered. And the attic itself seemed to span the length and width of the entire mansion. With a tired sigh, she began to survey the room's contents in order to inform the moving men of what all needed to be removed since she refused to haul any heavy boxes or furniture down the rickety wooden ladder herself.
The floor creaked underneath every cautious step, wooden slats groaning with the unexpected weight. Misaki left tracks in the dust as she walked, little puffs of clouds wafting around her feet and dissipating into sepia hues that seemed to color the atmosphere. The entire place was tinted with ancient memories and disuse, of having sat abandoned for so long, home to everything that had been left behind.
Misaki had been hired by CLAMP campus to clear out the Imonoyama mansion so that the structure could be torn down in order to make way for a new classroom edifice. The last inhabitants of the mansion had lived there about 20 years ago, around the time of the fatal earthquakes. Thankfully, things had finally quieted down, but not before taking the lives of nearly thousands of people. The decrease in the student population, as a result, meant that there was an overabundance of housing. Thus, the mansion had sat in neglect for many years. Now the place was in too much disrepair for it to be salvaged and Misaki was given the task of supervising the movement of everything out of the building.
During an exploration of the house, she had discovered a square cutout in the ceiling of one of the bedrooms. It had turned out to be a door that, when pulled down, had revealed a wooden staircase that unfolded and rested against the floor, allowing her passage to the attic above.
The dust flickered around as though floating in a perpetual sunbeam, caressing and tickling Misaki's sinuses until she finally gave an explosive sneeze. And another one. And yet another one. Trying to maneuver her way through the attic during each bodily disruption was proving to be quite difficult. People don't sneeze with their eyes open, so Misaki found herself meandering blindly. A muffled crunch from beneath a careless foot finally stopped her in place. Face contorted in anxiety, she took a step back to see what she had stepped on. She breathed a sigh of relief when a close examination proved the item to only be an empty pack of cigarettes. Toeing the trash out of her way, she continued on with her inspection. The only thought she spared the package was one of tame curiosity. She didn't even know if they made Mild Seven cigarettes anymore.
---
Subaru was pleased to discover that the entrance to the attic was located in his bedroom ceiling. He was even more pleased to find, as he stuck his head up through the square hole, that the attic was enormous. Curiosity getting the better of him, he carefully picked his way into the attic's bowels.
Dust motes hovered throughout the entire expanse, and he had to duck several times to avoid cobwebs that were dangling down from the rafters, ghostly vines that swayed in the breeze of his wake, as though they were reaching out in attempts to ensnare him. Moths flitted about his head as he picked his way across boxes and covered furniture that jutted up from the floorboards like haphazard stalagmites.
At the far end of the attic was a large window, through which the sunlight feebly tried to shine through the smeared grime, shading the room in dirty rust. Subaru ineffectually tried to wipe the pane clean before deciding to open the window instead. It took some effort, but with a few sharp thrusts with the heels of his hands he managed to slide the window up, scattering cracked paint chips all over his feet. The wind coursed through the stagnant room, breathing fresh air into the stale room and arousing something inside Subaru that had long laid dormant.
The attic was a welcome reprieve, a perfect sanctuary. Not that his comrades were insufferable to live with; he cherished them each individually. But still, it was nice to have a place to retreat to where Sorata couldn't barge in on him while he was meditating, where Yuzuriha couldn't nag him about his poor eating habits, and where he could avoid Kamui's ever-present mournful gaze. He never told the other Seals about the attic door in his room, sneaking up every so often when he needed to disappear into seclusion.
Subaru had moved all the boxes and various stored items up against the walls, clearing up enough space in the middle of the room so that he could stretch and practice his moves. He would flow through the formations, gliding from one stance to the next, with almost lethal grace. Like fluid metal, he poured himself into the different postures, each abrupt pause before transitioning akin to liquid becoming solid, mercury turning into a sharp blade before morphing back into viscosity. The freedom of movement was a wonderful channel for pent up frustrations or chronic despondency, and the attic allowed him this therapy when space in Tokyo was a luxury.
Other times, Subaru went up to the attic to meditate, soaking in the solitude. And he knew it seemed silly to enjoy this place of isolation when his apartment in Shinjuku or his bedroom in the mansion was really just as adequate. But the past seemed to haunt him constantly, memories touching and warping every aspect of life. His history couldn't touch him here in the attic however; it was already filled with someone else's memories, encased away in ragged boxes.
Nevertheless, his past managed to break through into his haven, presenting him with the blackest memory of all.
He was immersed in meditation, sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, hands resting limply on his knees with the palms facing upwards. His face was relaxed and his eyes closed, while the sunlight streaming in through the open window illuminated his pale skin.
Abruptly sensing something outside himself, Subaru's consciousness started a little, and he began to bring himself back to full awareness. Cracking his eyes open into narrow slits, the glare of the light harsh on his dilated pupils, he was able to discern petals floating in on the breeze, a horizontal rainstorm of rosy silk brushing tenuously across his face. One of the pink blossoms landed in his hand and Subaru decisively closed his fist and crushed it. When he uncurled his fingers, a smatter of blood stained his palm.
The petals began to whirl around, mingling and merging, coalescing into a familiar form. Subaru glared at this illusion turned reality, at this pink maelstrom that signified the Sakurazukamori's entrance.
Fragile bouquets of sticks adorned the attic, dangling from the rafters or nestled securely in the joint beams. The indistinguishable flowers were raspy and dry, nothing but skeletal stalks and shriveled buds. Some had fallen from roof beams when the twine holding them suspended had decayed, unraveling and dropping the withered bundle to the ground, scattering crinkled petals and leaves across the floorboards.
Misaki tsked at the mess and figured it was fortunate that there was no reason to clean it up.
Subaru never told Seishirou to go away. After his nine-year absence, Subaru wouldn't dare exile the other man, preferring to keep him nearby. It was a perverse sense of forbidden hope that kept him clinging to his Wish, and thus, his nemesis' company. However, he never expressly invited the Sakurazukamori to stay. Either way, Seishirou's visits to the attic became habitual.
Their first few meetings were predictably terse, consisting of bitter conversation held from opposite sides of the room:
"How are you today, Subaru-kun?"
"Like you care how I'm doing."
"It doesn't mean I can't inquire as to your well being."
"Why ask a question that you don't care to know the answer to?"
"Simply to hear the answer."
"…I'm not doing well at all."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"Because I'm in the presence of a cold-hearted murderer."
"Subaru-kun, you wound me."
"I can try."
Seishirou began bringing flowers in attempts to placate the snarling onmyouji who, like a panther, skulked back and forth near the attic door, as though guarding the passage to the rest of the mansion, and in corollary, the other Seals. He brought bunches of pink carnations, their petals oddly scrunched as though already withered, yet still retaining the softness of vitality. Other bouquets consisted of a bundle of lavender interspersed with delicate webs of baby's breath, daffodils bound with a ribbon, a stalk of wisteria, and several other unknown varieties of twilight purples and sunrise oranges.
Subaru's sense of propriety was so deeply ingrained that he could never refuse the Sakurazukamori's gifts. So he took them warily, careful not to touch the other man as the flowers were transferred from one hand to the other. He disallowed himself to contemplate why he recoiled from Seishirou, hesitant to place a reason for fear that it was because he considered the assassin sacred rather than reviled.
Unable to locate a vase in the boxes strewn about the attic, and not trusting Seishirou while he went downstairs to fetch one, Subaru positioned the flowers around the room instead, interlacing them in the exposed support beams. They died quicker, but for their brief interlude they made a decadent mural that brightened the dim shadows of the attic.
The days since the Dark Kamui's awakening passed languidly, trekking lazily into summer. Subaru began to accept Seishirou's increasing presence and they were soon able to hold civil conversations on matters concerning mundane things like the recent technological marvel of having musical ring tones on one's cell phone, or recommending their favorite restaurants. They managed to lapse into something resembling familiarity and comfort with the other. At least Subaru was able to cease his sullen pacing and sit with Seishirou near the window, closer to the feeble breeze that was the only relief from the heavy midday heat.
Seishirou began to pick flowers instead of buying them from the florist. The lilacs were in bloom and Subaru tucked them into the rafters, allowing the violet plumes to spill down from the ceiling, their subtle fragrance mingled with the faint musty smell that permeated the attic.
One day Seishirou arrived with a basket full of buttercups. The mental image of the refined assassin hunched over on hands and knees on the lawn of some nondescript park to pick the tiny flowers brought gentle peals of laughter from Subaru's lips, like wind threading through wooden chimes. Seishirou lamented how the fleeting beauty of Subaru's laughter compared to his gift of blossoms was enough to turn them into nothing more than common garden weeds. Subaru still insisted on sprinkling them about the floor, a carpet of yellow beneath their feet and a sky of purple above that made them feel like they were suspended in a rainbow.
"You didn't honestly pick all of these, did you?" Subaru asked, voice full of amused curiosity.
"There was a class of children on a field trip to Ueno Park. They were eager to pick them for me once I told them that the flowers were for the one I loved!" Seishirou answered with a teasing laugh, and the years fell away from Subaru like an avalanche.
Nine years had never passed. Murder, betrayal, and mind-breaking suffering had never happened. They were back in those Babylon days where they unknowingly walked a perilous, crumbling road, believing that they were ascending to heaven. Back then, the present was all there was, ripe with extravagant proclamations of love and blind faith that the open daylight couldn't conceal menacing shadows of threats.
The reminder of cheerful, yet foolish days taunted Subaru and he was unable to respond in expected fashion by blushing and stammering. Being cast down by God was punishment enough and he had no desire to reenact the idiotic traipsing down the path to ruin. Instead, he averted his eyes and turned to the task of rearranging a wilted bouquet of roses.
"Do you not like the flowers?" Seishirou needled upon receiving no answer from Subaru aside from his sudden reticence.
"They're lovely, Seishirou-san. It was really very thoughtful of you," Subaru responded in a flat tone, focused more on bringing the lesser parched of the roses to the forefront, while tucking the browning leaves and buds in back.
Unexpectedly, Seishirou slung an arm around his waist, pulling him close to the solid warmth of his body. Subaru seized up in wide-eyed surprise and tried to draw away, but Seishirou wouldn't relinquish his hold, leaning over to speak in his ear.
"Why are you so intent on holding onto the past?" he asked, voice a low rumble, dark and inquisitive.
Subaru tilted his head over his shoulder so that he could look the assassin in the eye. "Because the past is so intent on holding onto me," he retorted, resisting slightly against his forced proximity to Seishirou in order to emphasize his point.
Seishirou chuckled, both a light and ominous sound, and released the younger man. Subaru turned to face him, the laughter and the sudden loss of contact leaving him feeling oddly bereaved. The assassin smiled down at him, something akin to a taunt playing in his remaining eye.
"Now," he said, "it's your turn."
---
Misaki examined the record player nestled away in the corner of the attic. She blew on it, sending dust billowing upwards and spiderwebs shaking violently, desperately clinging on to whatever surface they were attached to. Noticing a record on the turntable, she dusted off the label with her forefinger, but did not recognize the name of the band. Curious, she located the power switch and carefully flipped it on. The record began to spin and she pulled the needle to its edge and let it rest, allowing it to guide its own way into the minute grooves of the disc.
There was a brief jolt of static and then the music began to play, echoing throughout the attic. It was an upbeat, instrumental melody that, despite its cheeriness, felt out of place in this graveyard of memories. The music felt hollow, a feeble ghost of another era diluted even further in the giant expanse of the room. Misaki only paid it half an ear anyway, the cavorting tune becoming nothing more than a backdrop melody.
An abrupt squeal brought Misaki's attention fully to the record. The needle was skipping. She hurriedly turned the player off and the attic resumed its thick silence. Examining the record, she noticed an angry scratch across the radius of the disc, narrow but deep. She fingered the dust-filled crevice and wondered how the damage had happened.
---
"Seishirou-san, I'm not sure about this," Subaru said anxiously, edging away.
"Everyone should know how to dance," Seishirou said in response, switching the record player on. A cheerful tune began to play, outdated, but suitable for its purpose. He turned towards Subaru, who was cringing timidly across the room, and extended his hand. "I'll teach you how."
Subaru's stomach had dropped when Seishirou had first located the player and a box of records. Seishirou had thoughtfully waited for a day when the other Seals were out of the mansion, allowing them to play the music and clomp across the floor as loudly as they needed to. He had said then what he said now: that everyone should know how to dance. But in the end it was Subaru's sense of propriety and good manners, and not any desire to learn whatsoever, that finally propelled him across the floor to accept Seishirou's hand.
Seishirou moved in closer, resting his other hand on Subaru's hip and positioning Subaru's hand on his own. All coherent thought abandoned Subaru at the intimate touch and all he was able to focus on was the secure and confident way Seishirou held onto him, comparing it to the way his own hold was light and tremulous.
"Are you ready?" Seishirou asked.
"Um…" Subaru managed, trying to force articulate words into his head and out his mouth.
"I'll lead and you just follow along."
"B-But…shouldn't I lead?" Subaru stammered, clinging to the first thought that had coalesced in his mind, never minding that it was a thought that only entangled him further in this unwilling predicament. "I mean, I'll be expected to know how," he said lamely, feeling a warm blush flooding his cheeks.
"All right," Seishirou nodded, and proceeded to show him the footsteps. Step, step, glide. Step, step, glide. Pivot. Repeat. Subaru copied, taking over the lead, and Seishirou followed, seemingly comfortable in his swapped place. All went smoothly for the first few paces until Subaru stepped on Seishirou's foot, which was accompanied by loud and profuse apologies. By the sixth toe-stepping incident, Subaru had toned it down to a mumbled and humiliated "sorry" while he nuzzled his flushed face in Seishirou's suit jacket.
Seishirou responded by unexpectedly trampling on his foot. "Sorry," he said contritely, a self-conscious smile on his lips.
"It's all right," Subaru automatically reassured him. He didn't doubt that the whole thing was intentional, but it did help him to relax slightly.
They slid along the attic floor, dancing past the record player where they paused so that Seishirou could reposition the needle at the beginning of the disc. Back and forth they moved, Seishirou easily taking up the lead to demonstrate a new move: step back, pull away, twirl, rejoin. Subaru had loosened up and was almost drowsily content in Seishirou's arms, the warmth of his body and the gentle movement akin to a lullaby. "Where did you learn to dance?" Subaru murmured, feeling like he was swaying in a soft breeze until he realized that they had indeed stopped moving entirely and Seishirou was simply holding and rocking him.
"They teach it to you in assassin's school, right alongside how to break a man's neck and dispose of the body without leaving any evidence."
Subaru stiffened in shock at the answer momentarily before pulling away tersely.
"Perhaps after the dancing lesson I shall teach you how to take a joke," Seishirou said neutrally as he watched Subaru storm over to the player and yank the needle across the record so violently that it made an ear-splitting screech.
"Go away," he whispered hoarsely in the sudden quiet, a dangerous contrast to the furious angle of his hunched shoulders as he turned away from Seishirou and towards the window.
"Is that what you really want me to do?" Seishirou fired back, eyes hard and expression cold.
There was a long pause and when Subaru finally spoke again, his voice was strained. "Why do you do that?"
Seishirou walked over next to Subaru who was squinting out the window, apparently against the glare of sunlight filtering in, but he could spy the glossiness of his eyes as he struggled to push back tears. "Do what, Subaru-kun?"
A small strangled sound hitched in Subaru's throat, as though something was inside trying to keep the rage down, but whatever it was gave way and the fury spilled out unchecked and disjointed. "You won't let me forget!" he nearly cried. "Everything will be going fine between us and just as I'm enjoying your company, you have to say something flippant like that and remind me of why I hate you."
Subaru looked bitterly away, but Seishirou grabbed his wrist and spun him forcefully around. The young onmyouji was glaring venom but allowed this rough treatment. "Subaru-kun," Seishirou began in a controlled manner, "I'm not forcing you to accept me for everything that I am. But I'm also not going to present only one side of the mask to you simply because you don't like the other side."
"Don't show any side to me and go away," Subaru hissed.
"You should be grateful that I show myself to you at all," Seishirou retorted coolly. He glanced down the length of his arm where Subaru's hand was squirming in his grip and released it with a dismissive gesture. "Now it's your turn," he reminded him as a pink petal floated by. He eroded away on a Sakura wind, amber eyes boring into him until the last when the Sakurazukamori was nothing more but a lingering, sweet fragrance.
Subaru watched motionless as Seishirou took his leave. Dejected tears were already falling to the dusty floor. He sighed shakily into the silence and wondered if Seishirou was still there beside him.
"If I let you go, what will I be left with?"
---
"Ouch!" Misaki yelped as she stubbed her toe on a wayward box, accidentally kicking it over on its side and spilling its contents everywhere. With an objectionable whine, she knelt down and began scooping everything back up. The box had contained several papers that appeared business-like in nature, though on what subject, Misaki wasn't sure. There were also pictures, most of them taken around CLAMP campus. There were photos of the chemistry lab, the gymnasium, and an undeveloped lot. Mixed in with these were pictures of a few random students, sitting on a bench or smiling into the camera.
Picking up the last of the photos, Misaki was a little surprised to find that they were taken in that very attic. She recognized the large window framing the rather slender form of a man. He appeared shy in every picture, as though trying to duck away from the camera. She could even detect the faint coloring of his cheeks.
In only one of the photos was he with another man, most likely the one who had taken all the other pictures. Misaki was a bit startled to see that he was blind in one eye, but he was extremely handsome regardless, dressed up in a suit and tie. In this particular photo, he was standing behind the smaller man, holding him in a one-armed embrace while his other arm extended out of view, obviously pointing the camera at them. He was smiling up at the lens, while the man sheltered in his arms peered timidly out at her, seeming both comfortable yet uneasy in his sanctuary.
Misaki thought it was a rather cute picture. But then she placed it, along with all the others, back in the box and didn't think of it again.
---
Subaru thought it was rude to rifle through the contents of someone else's belongings. Seishirou, accustomed to searching through the possessions of some of his targets, thought nothing of rummaging through a few of the boxes lying around the attic. Subaru would peer guiltily over his shoulder, supervising Seishirou, but not wanting to somehow be caught as an accessory to snooping.
"There's nothing here of much importance," Seishirou noted off-handedly, though he said it mostly to reassure Subaru in hopes that he would cease his anxious hovering. "Just some pictures of the campus," he said, holding a handful photos. "Perhaps they were going to make a brochure of some kind about the school."
Subaru, hesitant at first, but assured that they weren't looking through someone's personal effects, took the pictures from Seishirou and began to slowly shuffle through them. Seishirou watched him as he examined each photo, spending a minute or two studying each person or subject, a look of lax concentration on his face, almost as though he had entered a trance.
"They are rather handsome," Seishirou ventured after Subaru had been staring at the same picture of two boys playing a one-on-one game of basketball for quite some time. Subaru blinked, as though coming forth from a fog of thoughts into the light, then he blushed once he realized what Seishirou was inferring.
"Sorry," he mumbled, to which Seishirou shrugged off the apology as being unnecessary. "I actually wasn't looking at them," he clarified. "I was looking at this person," he said, pointing at the bleachers in the background where a boy was sitting, book splayed across his knees and head in his hands as he read.
"Why?" Seishirou asked, though his tone held no hint of curiosity.
Subaru gave a minute shrug, more of a gentle rolling of his shoulders. "Because I feel that I should notice him," he said matter-of-factly, matching Seishirou tone for tone. "He's not the focus of this photograph, but that doesn't make him any less significant as a person. He's seen as just a part of the background, but he's a real person with likes and dislikes and hopes and feelings-" Subaru cut himself off when he could hear his own voice straining through the nonchalance, beginning to waver at a higher pitch. It was difficult trying to tell the Sakurazukamori precisely how he felt about himself while pretending that he was speaking indifferently about someone else. Taking a breath, he tried to finish. "I mean, this picture proves that he existed. But he's less than a memory; an unknown person to everyone who sees this photo."
Seishirou stared at him and Subaru didn't think he understood at all.
"It's the people who don't seem to matter that I take an interest in."
The next time Seishirou visited Subaru in the attic, he brought a disposable camera. "What are you doing with that?" Subaru asked, looking at the device as though it were a poisonous snake.
"Proving that you exist," Seishirou said as he snapped the button and the flash went off.
Subaru was so stunned by the answer that Seishirou was able to take several more pictures of the bewildered onmyouji before he regained his senses and began to protest.
"Seishirou-san!" he pleaded, channeling the force of his supplication into the name as he sidestepped the lens. Seishirou circled around, cutting off Subaru's escape route, and took another picture. "Onmyouji shouldn't have their pictures taken," he said quickly, hoping to instill reason in the other man. Surely he must know that if the picture was to fall into the wrong hands, it could be used as an instrument against its subject.
Seishirou paused for a moment, seeming to consider the implications of Subaru's statement. But then the flash went off again. With an exasperated huff lodged in his throat, Subaru turned completely around in order to avoid the camera. Abruptly, an arm ensnared around his shoulders and dragged him into a soft haven against Seishirou's chest. Subaru looked up at him uncertainly, tensing up upon catching glimpse of Seishirou's expression. The look upon his face was calm, yet intense, a sort of quiet self-confidence. He had traces of a gentle smile on his lips, implying either good-natured humor or condescension.
Subaru's breath caught in his throat at the sheer complexity of his countenance. It was somehow soothing and Subaru found himself unexpectedly relaxing into Seishirou's arms. Seishirou held the camera out at arm's length, pointing it at themselves.
"Smile, Subaru-kun."
They looked through the developed photos the next time Seishirou visited. Subaru wasn't too interested in the various pictures of himself, though Seishirou seemed to take a certain amount of delight at all his flustered poses. They finally came to the one photo of the both of them, an innocuous snapshot of the two most powerful onmyouji in Japan that could be damaging in the hands of malicious intent. Subaru held it gingerly by the edges, careful not to smudge the glossy surface, and spent an indefinite amount of time studying their own faces. Seishirou tossed the rest of the pictures into the open box that contained all the photos of CLAMP campus while waiting to see what Subaru would do.
Subaru held onto that photo, onto them, onto him. He was all eyes and fingers, but in one decisive movement, managed to tear himself away. Without looking at Seishirou, he dropped their picture into the box and finally allowed themselves to become less than a memory.
---
Misaki was puzzled to find a torn slip of paper lying on the attic floor. She picked up the two halves, trying to fit them back together. The strip was black and rectangular with a white star in the middle; two points on one half, the completing three on the other. She thought it was very pretty and would have pocketed it if it weren't ripped up. Scattered around the rest of the room, she discovered five more strips discarded amongst boxes and underneath pieces of furniture, each one torn apart. Crinkling her nose, Misaki held the ruined papers in her hand. Worthless, she decided, and tossed them off to the side where they landed with a smothered rustle.
---
Subaru was waiting to see if Seishirou would visit today.
He was relaxing in a dust-filled shaft of light, propped up beneath the window with his long legs stretched out before him. He tilted his head back against the windowsill, liking the way the afternoon sun filled his eyes. The intensity distorted his vision and he allowed the rest of the world to warp and spin around him until he could no longer keep his lids open against its radiance. It was a warm and secure means of escape, allowing the light to flood his vision until he was lost in a sea of orange glare spots.
Scooting along the floor, Subaru pulled himself far enough away from the wall that he was able to lie down without hitting his head. Lying fully in the sunbeam, he drowsily let the light engulf him whole as he peered around him, curious at his surroundings when viewed from this new perspective. The light layer of dust on the floor became a thick film clotted with lint when seen from up close. The ceiling itself seemed to gain greater depth, and he stared at it until he felt almost suspended in the air, up and down having become interchangeable entities.
It was while looking at the room from this angle that Subaru spotted something out of the corner of his eye hidden innocuously under a chair. It was huge and black and, for a moment, he thought it was a rather large and unpleasant insect. He got up in order to investigate it, leaving a dust angel imprinted on the floor. He stopped dead in his tracks upon coming close enough to see that it was actually a black ofuda with an inverted pentagram, signifying that it belonged to Seishirou.
Subaru blinked bleary eyes, wanting to see it in crystal clarity in hopes that he might be able to convince himself of its presence. He looked down upon it with almost grotesque fascination, as though he expected it to suddenly sprout legs and scurry over his foot.
"Seishirou-san?" he called out, voice reverberating hollowly amongst the rafters. He received no response, and he realized that simply because the ofuda was here did not mean that Seishirou was as well. It might have fallen from his coat the last time he was here, Subaru tried to rationalize. But still, he couldn't help the feeling of dread that was concentrating into a chilling lump in his stomach upon seeing it. It was a symbol of everything Seishirou had been asking him to see past, however Subaru felt a stunned sort of paralysis in being confronted with that which he was not yet ready to accept.
He lightly dragged the chair away, uncovering the ofuda. Stiffly, he bent over and picked it up, holding it in the very tips of his fingertips. As he examined it, the white pentagram in the center began to glow. Startled, Subaru glimpsed the stars on his own hands blazing to life just as the walls erected themselves. Shielding his eyes against their brilliant phosphorescence, Subaru was just able to make out his prison: a barrier in the shape of an inverted star.
He looked around wildly, the earlier dull pang of foreboding evolving into sharp-edged panic. Subaru recognized the barricades as being a magical field, held in place by ofuda positioned at strategic points. Each ofuda established a point of the barrier and Subaru could spy each one fastened around the room to the support beams. Inside the walls, he was immobile, his feet feeling as though they were interwoven with the wooden floorboards. Every time he tried to move them, he feared his legs would splinter and snap in half. He was trapped, and the implications of that word sent ice scraping against his skin.
Trapped. This was a trap.
"Seishirou-san!" Subaru yelled, crushing the single black ofuda in his fist.
His shout didn't carry, absorbed instead by the glowing walls of his cage. However, as though his muted voice was enough to summon him, Subaru felt Seishirou's presence in the increased intensity of the gleaming pentagrams in his hands. Suddenly, he heard a scream from downstairs and he snapped his head up to listen, thinking that it had sounded like Yuzuriha. He could hear some kind of commotion drifting up the attic stairs, but he couldn't discern what precisely was going on. A distorted shout, a muffled exchange, and then all at once, silence. He waited in strained anticipation for another sound, but heard nothing.
Worried for his comrades, he glanced around the barrier, sizing it up. He needed to get out and the only way he could see to accomplish this was by breaking through. Interlocking his fingers, he began to chant, trying to find focus and calm amongst his rapid breathing. Extending one hand, he concentrated on pushing, intoned words his strength. Beneath his will, the barrier began to bend and curve outwards. The wall was stretched almost to its breaking point and Subaru knew that he was almost free, but he found himself hesitating, the upsurge of desperation tempered by the knowledge that he could hurt Seishirou upon rupturing the barrier.
All at once, the walls faded away and Subaru watched them dissipate. He hadn't broken free on his own, so the only other explanation was that Seishirou must have let him go. Subaru didn't let himself stop to think whether he did so in order to protect himself or simply because he was playing with him, hurrying instead down the stairs and into the mansion.
He had reached the entryway when everything turned black around him and, for a moment, he was falling, oblivion swirling dizzyingly around him. And then light broke through and Subaru could see the rest of the Dragons of Heaven.
Yuzuriha stood before him, Inuki growling steadfastly in front of her. Sorata held a crackling ball of electricity, poised in his palm like a jewel on a pedestal. Arashi had her sword unsheathed, body lithe and tense, standing at the ready. Kamui was ringed with an unseen energy, hair and clothes whipping wildly in the force of its wake. Subaru could see his eyes shimmering and his hands twitching, ready to unleash a tumultuous blast from his fingertips.
In the midst of the Seals was Seishirou, standing atop an illusionary boulder, an endless stream of black ofuda circling around him. He smiled upon seeing Subaru enter the illusion and with the smallest exertion of power, dispelled the younger Dragons out of the maboroshi, leaving them alone in an overwhelming darkness.
"I was hoping my trap would hold you for longer, but you were quite insistent," Seishirou said by way of greeting.
"It was a clever trick," Subaru tried affecting Seishirou's straightforward tone, which was difficult coming through clenched teeth. "I might have to steal it."
"You're welcome to," Seishirou responded, tone indifferently placating, speaking kindly though there was no true emotion behind it. Subaru cast him a bitter look while slipping a few ofuda of his own into his hand. Seishirou, spying the motion, extended his arm out and the ofuda encircling him froze in midair. There were a few seconds of standstill, during which they anticipated the other's attack, broken finally by Subaru, who launched his handful with a shouted incantation. At the same time, Seishirou sent the cards streaking at him, white and black meeting halfway in an illuminated explosion.
Quickly, both opponents leaped back to avoid the blast, ofuda already passing their fingertips as they let loose their next assault. Subaru attacked, Seishirou defended, ofuda poised in the air in the shape of an inverted pentagram, shielding against the Sumeragi's onslaught. The spells they were chanting could barely be heard over the roar of wind and fire.
Around him, the illusionary boulders began to multiply, materializing out of the blackness and swinging through the void like clubs. Subaru quickly jumped to avoid being struck and Seishirou took advantage of his distraction to quickly maneuver out of the line of fire. He created vines out of nothing, sending them snaring around the Sumeragi's wrists and legs, holding him immobile. Above him, a large rock hovered, threatening to fall and crush him.
"Why are you doing this?" Subaru shouted angrily, twisting in his confines.
"Well, which explanation would you prefer to hear best?" Seishirou asked, infuriatingly calm. He leapt atop the menacing boulder, staring down upon the Sumeragi. "Would you believe me if I said that 'Kamui' asked me to infiltrate the Seals in hopes of weakening them? Or if I said that I was looking for some amusement and your Kamui has been the only one proven to be a challenge in a fight? And don't look at me like that, Subaru-kun. You have potential as well, but you never allow yourself to reach it. Which, incidentally, leads me to the third possible reason for my doing this."
"To see if I'm worthy enough to fight you?" Subaru nearly snarled.
"No. Just to see if you would."
"Of course I would! You're the Sakurazukamori," he said, grimacing as though the very word was poison in his mouth.
At the remark, Seishirou smiled, something both rich and lacking, a satisfied quirk of his lips that somehow spoke of disappointment. His countenance reminded Subaru of the photo incident when he had noticed Seishirou with the most peculiar look on his face. Both expressions were similar: contradictory, as though both sides of a mask were present at once.
It was the wrong thing to say, for the words confirmed the very thing he had expected to hear.
And suddenly, the illusion shattered. The vines holding Subaru dissolved, dropping him to his feet. The boulders, the ofuda, and the deep blackness fell away like glass shards, radiant light shining through the cracks. Everything dissipated into torrents of Sakura petals, like the wind turned silken pink. Seishirou was gone as well, a taunting statement lingering in the air the final testament to his presence.
"You may choose whichever reason you like best."
Subaru was back in the entryway of the mansion, flanked by the other Seals who wore confused and concerned expressions, wondering what happened to him while in the clutches of the Sakurazukamori.
"Subaru-san?" Yuzuriha questioned, voice tender as though she could break him alone with her words. Subaru couldn't help thinking that Seishirou had already accomplished that, and without a word or a glance, he turned and walked away.
Back in the attic, he located Seishirou's ofuda, snatching them up and tearing them apart. He combed the entire expanse of the room making sure that he caught all of them, disallowing Seishirou the chance to trick him like that again. He walked the perimeter of the attic twice, long since given up searching, unable to see anyway for the tears in his eyes. Instead, he worked on composing himself before he rejoined the other Dragons of Heaven.
For hours, he lingered, eyes tracing over tangible memories. Above him, the flowers were wilting, their light fragrance rotting into a sickly sweet stench. The record player lay in a corner, its needle pulled roughly away from the turntable, hanging over the edge of the device like a scorpion's tail ready to strike. In a box over by the window, he could spy their faces peeking out from inside, forever plastered on glossy paper. Glancing around, Subaru lamented the loss of his one haven and only sanctuary, broken into and defiled by the very thing he had set out to avoid. And now his memory permeated everything.
It was perhaps a perverse feeling, but Subaru was suddenly struck by the urge to embrace the source of his heartbreak, inhale it fully and lose himself in its intoxicating vapors. Which is why he found himself positioned in the middle of the attic, one hand held up to shoulder height, the other hand holding the hip of an invisible partner. He let the melody play inside his head and took a step. Step, step, glide. Step, step, glide. Pivot, repeat.
Around and around he went, eyes closed through the motions, dancing with his sorrow. In time, he allowed his partner to take over the lead, guiding him through the final moves. Step back, pull away, twirl, and rejoin. He was spinning around far longer than the move entailed, finally stopping to rejoin with his partner that was just a wrenching void. Beneath his feet, shriveled buttercup heads left filthy yellow smears on the floorboards.
Day had turned to dusk, the shadows in the room elongating and flattening colors. Subaru had never been up here at night, and though the attic looked so different, he knew that it was really just another face for the same thing. Berating himself for figuring that out too late, he finally descended the attic stairs. He sealed the entrance and never went back up again.
---
Misaki glanced around the room one last time. She felt she had a good idea of what was up here and could inform the moving men of the extent of their job. It all appeared to be junk, and once it was out of the mansion, she would drop it off at a secondhand store. Stretching her arms up to the ceiling, she yawned and thought that moving the items could wait until tomorrow.
The sun was hanging low in the sky already, glowing orange through the one large window. Curious to see the view from up there, Misaki wandered over to it. She was surprised to find a dried bouquet of flowers, resting on the sill. They were gnarled and brown, but Misaki thought they could have once been a beautiful bundle of lilies. Resting atop the bound stems was a small folded note. The corners were eroded away, but a name was written clearly across the top.
Subaru-kun.
With gentle fingers, Misaki opened the note and read what was written inside.
Boku wa…kimi o…
But the rest was missing, the paper having been eaten away by time and decay, absorbed into the sepia hues of the attic.