Title: Mirror, Mirror
Characters/Pairing: Kamui/Fuuma, but very lightly
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1246
Summary: Everyone sees different people when they look at Fuuma--but what about Kamui, and what about he himself?
This is it: this is the last battle. Here they are, with half of Tokyo under water or dead. There was Fuuma, his six Angels arrayed behind him. And, finally, there was the shiken Saya bore, braced in one hand and pointed at Kamui's throat.
This was his twin star, the one he'd have to kill, but even as they fought Kamui couldn't shake the images from his childhood, happier memories from days long gone by. He flipped backwards and twisted mid-air, bringing his sword to meet Fuuma's in a screeching metallic clash. He couldn't tell if it the clawing feeling in his eyes and throat were from the sound of metal-on-metal, or because--now, of all times--he was just remembering that when they had played hide-and-go-seek, Fuuma always, always found him first.
Bracing himself, Kamui hit the ground feet-first and used the momentum to leap forward, driving his twin star backwards with a series of whirling slashes. There, and with a heavy strike, Fuuma's back foot hit the ledge of the building they were dueling on and he tripped over it backwards. Kamui took the opportunity to put distance between them, knowing that, seconds later, Fuuma would reappear somewhere else.
When he was the seeker, he always found Kotori within minutes, but Fuuma--he'd never won a game when Fuuma hid, not even once.
He was right: Fuuma's voice echoed out over the water and stillness of that promised day seconds later, from the crumbling window ledges of an old hotel building closeby.
"Kamui." His twin star sounded amused. "At the rate you're going, you'll never fulfill your Wish."
"Shut up!" Kamui shouted.
"In fact," Fuuma drawled, leaning against the hotel window, "I don't think you even know what you're looking for, Kamui."
He bit his tongue so hard he nearly drew blood. "I'm looking for Fuuma," Kamui replied, as calmly as he could. He had to concentrate; he couldn't afford to lose control. "And I'm going to get him back. I will."
"Really."
There were dragons in that sky, pulses of light energy and flickering split-second shards of steel where Fuuma's shinken flashed when he descended. The world, it seemed, went quiet all around him: he couldn't hear the anguished voices of his fellow Seals, couldn't hear the scrape of their blades or their footsteps on concrete and rusted metal and broken glass as he ran to the heights of the government building. In lieu of all his other senses, Kamui could only feel: the stinging, when Fuuma's holy sword glanced off his and left bleeding nicks on his arms and legs, his own heavy breathing, his aching, aching lungs. His heart.
Fuuma's blade pressed down heavily on his, and it took all his strength to hold him off. His gemini leaned in close, over the X their crossed swords made, and whispered in the voice the old Fuuma once told him secrets in. "When you look at me," he asked, "who do you see?"
Kamui swallowed hard; sweat was beading down his forehead and in his eyes, and the pounding in his head and heart made it difficult to see, much less think. "I-I--" He swallowed again, steeled himself. "I don't even know who you are! My twin star, the other kamui, whatever. I don't care, because you're still not Fuuma, and he's the one I need!"
The other boy studied him for a long second, and the force his shinken exerted lessened slightly. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "That's why, Kamui, your 'Wish' will never come true."
"Fuu--!"
Fuuma broke the lock of their swords and, twirling his expertly in one hand, took advantage of Kamui's momentary surprise to drive it forward, directly at his chest. Kamui barely reacted fast enough to block the assault, but the dark-haired boy turned in one smooth, whirling motion, and knocked him off the edge of the building rooftop.
The wind roared in his ears as he plunged down, tearing through his hair and clothes, and though he wasn't far Kamui could barely see the black shape of Fuuma following him down, running impossibly fast down the windowed side of the government building. His shinken flashed in the sunlight and, even as he fell, he was fighting for his life again.
"What the hell do you mean by that!?"
"Think about it," Fuuma said cryptically, and struck again.
This Fuuma--his eyes and mouth made the motions but when he smiled, there were razors hidden beneath, and his voice was deep and dark with the knowledge of countless people's inner hearts. He was deceitful, above all things; he'd killed Kotori, he'd wounded Subaru, and he'd murdered the android who'd thought of him as a father. And every single time, he smiled.
His Fuuma, the one he loved, he was the kindest and most gentle person he'd ever met. Whenever he or Kotori hurt themselves playing, he was the one they ran and cried to, the one who applied antiseptic and band-aids and comforting hugs. Fuuma of old was the one who swore he'd never hurt him. What reason could he have had to turn his heart around? Hadn't they been happy together? But then, destiny intervened, he himself had been the first to walk away--
His twin star let loose a bolt of energy that caught him off-guard and smashed into his side, jerking him roughly towards the building face. Fuuma leaped upwards and caught him one-handed by the throat. They were suspended in the glowing white sky, energy crackling around his twin star, reflecting off the glinting glass surfaces of skyscrapers and broken buildings all around.
He was whispering, his breath was hot in Kamui's face and against his neck: "Haven't you wondered why everyone thinks I look at someone else? It's because they can only see their Wish." They were hurtling down, faster and faster, and Fuuma's grip grew tighter around his throat. "Parents teach their children to stand and speak, and spend the rest of their life forcing silence, obedience, humility, the things they think is right for someone to be. When someone doesn't react the way people thinks they should, they are the ones who become estranged. And when they fall in love, they choose the person who they can feel the most comfortable with."
He was choking, his vision growing dark at the edges, spangled with sparks of destroying light and Fuuma's intensity. "F-- Fu--"
The whisper dropped another octave. "People," Fuuma hissed, low and dark, "Will only ever see what they want to in someone else. Do you know who I am, Kamui, did you know when we were kids? It's never been my choice!"
Fuuma spun both of them, mid-air, and in a burst of furious energy Kamui could feel rattling in his bones threw him at the water at breakneck speed. He gasped for air, and the explosion in his eyes was Fuuma's reflection, from a thousand windows and the blue below, and in those reflections he saw the agony of a stranger.
Mirror, mirror, Fuuma's heart whispered, a universe away.
Kamui hit the water and felt the world shiver, achingly cold.