The back room was dark. It always had been, always would be. Anubis had explained once that it helped them relax. The low lights and dark curtained walls made it easier for him to soothe his patient's minds. The harsh light of the sun would only sober them to a reality they did not want to face.
Anubis was with him now, drawing her slowly into a receptive state. There were always a few extra orders, just for insurance. There had been too many screw-ups lately, so they were taking extra care with this newest client.
Ryu's eyes caught the picture she was still clutching. The son she had lost. She had tried many times during the interview to share it with him, but each time had only stopped to weep silently. Ryu had doubted she would carry out the plan at all. Her grief was still so fresh, so formless. Most people who came to them were already hardened with pain. Some came only in a vague attempt to stop themselves from cracking and doing exactly what they were about to be talked into doing. Some were ready to do anything to get the resolution they were aiming for. Ryu felt no moral pangs for the hardened ones, not anymore. They only got what they wanted.
This one didn't know what she wanted. Ryu didn't think there was anything that would make this woman happy, ever again. Her son, her only child, had been everything to her. It was plain she had no wish to carry on without him.
The plan he had created for her would take several months to prepare. It was all he felt he could do for her. Having something to devote herself to, even for only those few, all-too-short months, might bring her through the worst of that storm of grief.
"You must pretend to gradually accept this," he had told her. "Don't let anyone suspect you know what really happened. You must act as if you are going on with your life." She had broken down weeping again at that. Ryu had been forced to take the time to assure her that he knew it would never be all right again, but she must pretend it was if she was ever going to get revenge for her child.
If she was forced to pretend that she was able to survive this, Ryu thought it might be possible for her to cope afterwards. They weren't just selling plans, he told himself, they were selling lives. They were offering peace of mind to those who were too weak to go on without assistance.
Ryu watched as her grip loosened and she relaxed. Her hand finally released the picture and he saw the face for the first time.
It stopped him cold.
Something about those eyes, the set of that mouth, reminded him of someone long dead to him. The boy was holding up his middle school diploma with one hand, making a victory sign with the other. His proud grin reminded Ryu suddenly and painfully of. . .
. . . Kyu.
For an instant, Ryu remembered laughter, senseless joy. He thought of snowball fights, sparring in the school dojo, competing, and the betrayed look in Kyu's eyes those few times Ryu had truly upset him. He remembered Kyu falling out of bed in the morning, and grinning at him across the dinner table at night. Kyu touching the back of his neck with hesitant fingers and telling him, 'it's only a birthmark if you think about it, Ryu.' As if he truly believed those words. As if it could be true.
Ryu could feel that same mark burn, thinking of Kyu's unrequested, undeserved, unrestrained trust. He felt sick.
He hated it.
It only took an instant for the flashes of memory to rush though him, and again all Ryu could see was a stranger grinning up at him out of a crumpled photograph and an old woman drowning in sorrow. Memories like that always passed quickly, the same way the time he had spent as a member of Q class seemed to be no more than a single instant out of his whole life.
He picked up the photo. An instant ago it had been Kyu, and he had wanted to crush it, to prove something to himself. Now he didn't care.
"Is this your son?"
He knew she couldn't answer, but he paused a moment anyway. He thought sometimes that they answered him in their minds, and he didn't like to interrupt.
"He's an adult now, isn't he?" Twenty-two soon, or at least he would have been, had he lived. Why such an old picture, Ryu wondered.
"He should be old enough to take care of his dear mother now, shouldn't he?" Ryu made this pause shorter. He could tell Anubis was growing impatient. This was his job and he would not be interfered with, but he couldn't verbally remind Anubis of that without having to start over.
"Do you realize, if you're caught, they will try to take him even further away?" 'They' could be anyone, he knew. Whoever resolved in her mind as an enemy would fit easily under that title. "They will try to drive him out of your heart, and out of your mind. They will tell you it is wrong to try to help him.
"Even though he is your baby," Ryu added, suddenly understanding why she had brought this particular picture. To her he was still so full of promise, still at that magic moment when she could almost burst with pride for him, yet still believe that there were much greater accomplishments ahead.
"If that happens, if they try to take him away from you, to tell you that it was wrong, you need to go to him." Anubis was watching him, his breathing too loud in the darkened room, but Ryu pushed the other man out of his mind. The most important part, the trickiest part to embed in the mind was yet to come, he would needed to work up to it.
"Kill yourself," he whispered. He saw her twitch. Even hypnotized, people would still resist some things, things they could not instinctively do. Often suicide was one of them. Every person probably had the capacity to commit suicide, but everyone also had the instinct to resist the idea. Usually it was only possible to demand a specific action that would cause the subject's death without them realizing that it was suicide. Normally he might do that, but she had said herself that she had so little else to live for now. . .
"Kill yourself," he repeated, and the twitch was barely noticeable this time. "Go to him, and he will protect you. Kill yourself so that they cannot take what you have left of him away." There was no response to the third repetition. She was only absorbing the words now.
"You won't fail," Ryu told her. He could sense more than see that she would come out of her trance soon. "It will be all right."
And then she began the slow process of shaking herself awake. Just as well. That last, extra instruction had been all they needed to do. Ryu placed the photograph back in her hand and waited in silence.
"Interesting command," Anubis commented, once she had gone. He placed one hand on Ryu's shoulder, and Ryu had to remember not to tense at the unwanted contact. He knew it was not the command he was expected to give. Besides that he had certainly not given it the way Anubis would. He dropped his ideas flat into people's heads. No tact at all. Privately, Ryu scorned his method. Even after they were in that receptive state, people went along more fluidly if they were talked around to it. It reduced the shock they felt later, actually acting on those orders, and made it just a bit less obvious they had been hypnotized in the first place.
"She won't be able to kill someone quickly or effectively. It would have been a waste of time." That was why he had given her such a round-about plan, one that wouldn't involve killing the target with her own two hands. If she couldn't take out her own personal enemy with noose or knife it would be ridiculous to try turning her against whatever cop or detective found her out. There just wasn't enough rage in her for that. She had only pain.
"Impressive."
Ryu steeled himself, but couldn't help twitching when Anubis' thumb pressed into his neck, beginning the motions that would eventually lead his fingers up to the mark just at the base of Ryu's head. He turned the feeling of unwanted touch into silent anger, tilting his chin up and just barely deigning to glare out of the corner of his eye.
"The only way that plan can fail is if she confesses on her own. Suicide is fitting."
Ryu wasn't just being proud. He was sure that Kyu was the only one who could see through the tricks he had mapped out for her. Why was he still thinking about. . . No, this wasn't about Kyu now. He was only summarizing possible flaws in his plan, and that was the only one. Kyu saw through everything.
Ryu left the building only a few minutes after their client. He didn't want to stay cooped up with Anubis any longer than he had to, especially not after being forcibly reminded of his former classmate. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
By now Anubis must have noticed that he had stopped asking clients to murder those who uncovered them. Ryu knew that sooner or later (more likely sooner than later), it would be Kyu. He never admitted aloud that everything would be pointless with Kyu dead, but he still had to do this small thing to protect his former classmate. Anubis would only see how life would be easier without his rival. Kyu would never believe him. Ryu himself was the only one who needed to know. It was a small thing he did for himself.
A light snow fell around him as he dragged his feet through the slush. They always seemed to have more clients in midwinter, as if the weather brought people's pain and depression to an unbearable peak. Ryu didn't quite understand why. All seasons felt the same to him under the surface, and if the weather brought memories to torment him, they were always the same sorts of memories.
His scarf covered his mouth and nose, but other than that he hadn't even bothered to obscure his face. Trying to hide his own face had proved futile so often that Ryu couldn't quite get himself to care anymore. There were other ways he could compete with Kyu, but trying to keep Kyu from recognizing him simply was not one of them. It wasn't only his face that Kyu recognized. Somehow, Kyu seemed to always know when it was Ryu's mind behind a case that appeared before him.
Bad enough that no disguise seemed to keep Kyu from suspecting him, but Ryu was ready to give up trying to avoid Kyu as well. They kept running into each other, as if Kyu had a sixth sense when it came to him.
Even his first time out near a crime scene after Kyu found out why he had left. It had been quite the simple trick, not one of the elaborate plans they sold, only an 'accident' that was in no way accidental. Even as a bystander, peeking at the scene from between shoulders behind the long banners of 'Police Line Do Not Cross,' he had somehow caught Kyu's eye from the crowd.
Kyu had caught up to him when he tried to leave. Ryu hadn't bolted, knowing it would be too suspicious to flee what was now a murder scene, but when Kyu had grabbed him by the shoulders he wished he had just run for it.
"Did you do this?" Kyu had demanded.
Ryu thought later that Anubis, that any of the others, would have smiled and said that they had nothing to do with such an unfortunate accident. All he had thought to say was, "This one wasn't mine." 'This one.' He had offered up words that he knew would be taken for a solid confession.
It had made Kyu let go of him. He had only been able to stare, horror plain on his face, as if Ryu had betrayed him for the very first time. He looked as if this was still unexpected. He must have known already who his 'friend' really was. Otherwise he wouldn't have known to ask.
"Why?" Ryu had heard him call, as he made good his escape. It was the one question that Kyu always asked. If Kyu had figured out sooner who he was, maybe he would know by now. Ryu had never stayed long enough to answer him.
Besides, before he answered Kyu's questions, he wanted an answer or two of his own. How did Kyu find him so easily? Why did he keep approaching Ryu with questions instead of anger?
Ryu had even experimented with drag once, solely for Kyu's benefit, though he would never admit to Kyu that he had done it for him. That would make a semi-reasonable experiment seem like an absurd gesture. He had wanted to see just how well Kyu could recognize him, to test if the other times Kyu had easily caught him out had somehow been flukes.
They hadn't been. After several attempts to do so casually, Ryu had managed to just catch the same car as Kyu on a local train. He made sure Kyu could see him, but cautiously kept his face half-turned away, only peeking at Kyu out of the very corner of his eye. Kyu had recognized him, after directing several looks at him with the most confused expression Ryu had ever seen. Ryu had just been about to leave and declare this disguise a success, even a shaky one, when Kyu grabbed him by the arm.
"Ryu," Kyu had gotten out, staring. He couldn't seem to find words for what he was seeing, but somehow he had still recognized Ryu.
The car was crowded, and Ryu had done the only thing he could think of to get Kyu away from him. He screamed, his voice as high as he could make it go, and shouted at Kyu at the top of his lungs, "PERVERT!" The additional cries of, "Sicko! Let go of me!" weren't really necessary after that, because Kyu had already released him and jerked back in shock.
The look on Kyu's face was priceless. Ryu was able to bolt from the train at the next stop, only a few seconds later, with Kyu unable to follow. He had known, even though his reaction had gotten him out safely, that Kyu had still recognized him for who he was.
It had been almost fun, for a little while. Seeing Kyu by accident on the street, nearly being caught by him. He felt closer to Kyu during their complex, dangerous game of hide-and-seek than he ever had being at Kyu's side. He could do things for Kyu now that he never could have before, things that might save Kyu's life or drive him mad.
Kyu needed him, and it was oddly intoxicating. Kyu didn't need him as an ally, because there was nothing Ryu could do for him that he couldn't, or wouldn't, learn to do for himself. He needed someone to stalk through the shadows, someone to fight. He needed an antagonist the same way Ryu needed someone to antagonize. Every conflict made him feel closer. Even if Kyu never realized it, they could never truly be rid of each other this way.
Ryu couldn't guess if Kyu understood that somehow. Did he understand why they could no longer be rid of each other? Kyu had started to look more and more upset each time Ryu appeared before him, until Ryu almost missed the conspiratorial smiles and senseless trust.
The last time they met Kyu had honestly tried to catch him. For the first time, he hadn't even tried to ask Ryu why. He had cornered Ryu in a bathroom, and Ryu had realized almost too late that he intended to handcuff them together, to ensure that Ryu couldn't get away from him this time.
It took a long, and rather undignified, struggle before he managed to cuff Kyu to one of the pipes under a sink. Ryu had only been able to stumble a few steps out of range. He was out of breath and terribly surprised. Usually Kyu let him go so easily.
Kyu had tried to yank his way free with some rather unintelligible angry noises. Ryu knew he should have made good on his escape then, but Kyu obviously hadn't cared about the metal cuff biting into his wrist as he struggled. Ryu had thought he would injure himself long before he would give up.
"Stop." Ryu had knelt in front of Kyu, grabbing his shoulders to keep him still. "Stop it. You're going to hurt yourself."
"What do you care?" The look on Kyu's face as he said it had made Ryu feel sick. He had seen that expression so many times, always on the faces of the murderers that Kyu would go on to catch. That face that meant someone had torn up their world, and there was no telling what lengths they would go to in restoring it. He didn't want to see that passionate fury on Kyu's face.
Ryu wanted to say that he would never see Kyu hurt, just as he knew Kyu would never truly try to harm him. He needed Kyu to oppose him, because Kyu was the only one who could see through his every move, his every plan. There was no point in even trying to create the perfect murder without Kyu there to see through it in an instant.
Ryu couldn't tell his former classmate just how important he still was.
"If someone is going to catch me, I want it to be you," was what he had chosen to say instead. Oh, but Ryu would never be caught. He would never be tried for the crimes he suggested, the murders he didn't commit. He only wanted Kyu to take care of himself because this was pointless without him. Just as Kyu's life would be pointless without Ryu in it to antagonize him, to keep him going.
'Why?' Kyu seemed to be asking him, even though he didn't say it. It was what he always asked. Ryu didn't have an answer. He was what he was meant to be, and that was all. This was no different from the way that Kyu was fulfilling his own potential. There was no 'why,' no rhyme or reason, only the result.
At least Kyu had stopped struggling when he said that, and had stopped trying to hurt himself. Ryu had left him, then. He hadn't seen Kyu since. He had no way of knowing what terms they would be on next time they met.
Trying to shake himself out of his thoughts, Ryu pulled his scarf up a little more, trying to cover his ears. They were burning with cold, which was just about the only thing distracting him from his own thoughts. The streets weren't crowded now that it was getting dark. It got dark so early these days.
Not many people about. He probably wouldn't see Kyu, or any of the others. He had run into each of the members of Q class once or twice since, but only Kyu seemed to have that sixth sense he used to find Ryu without warning.
It was about time that he considered not appearing before Kyu anymore. Kyu would never understand, but he would have abandoned Ryu anyway by reaching a respected position at DDS. That was somewhere Ryu knew he would never be able to follow with his own heritage exposed. He just couldn't be trusted the way people instinctively trusted Kyu.
And if he couldn't continue at Kyu's side, couldn't follow Kyu, well. . . at least the position he had been born to fill afforded him a certain, intimate, competition with Kyu. One that no one else would ever understand.
Even if he never saw Kyu face to face again, every plot he made was a message that Kyu was sure to receive. 'Follow me.' 'Chase me.' 'Find me.' 'Catch me.'
These taunts were all that was left of their friendship. Looking back, Ryu could see now that this had been inevitable all along, and yet. . . had he never been friends with Kyu, he never would have appreciated their antagonism now. Had he never seen the world through Kyu's eyes, he could never understand how their minds could sometimes work in sync. He would never have understood how Kyu could naturally follow the same lines of reason that he used, even though they should have been so different.
Those few ethereal moments, that brief instant with Kyu that had somehow filled years, made it possible for him to see the world, in tiny glimpses, through Kyu's eyes. It didn't change anything, or at least, anything that mattered, but it colored his world.
Sometimes he hated it, but sometimes. . . some moments, like that instant in the darkened room, looking at a stranger's face and somehow seeing Kyu's eyes. . . he wanted to go back. Just for a second, to refresh his memory of how it had felt. He knew it was impossible, but still. . . .
The cold air and the winter sunset made a cutting relief after that darkened, sleepy room. It was easier to think out in the fresh air, easier to decide. Even if they never saw one another again, Ryu didn't think this connection between them would be lost. He could disappear now, but he wouldn't cut himself off from Kyu just yet.
Even though Kyu must already hate him, he would still see it through to the bitter end. He had known this was coming. Expecting the rejection kept it from being painful, like steeling himself against the winter's cold. He had always known Kyu would give up on him. Just as he had given up being the person Kyu wanted him to be.