Warnings: (should've added this last chapter) Nondescript Nudity.

Chapter 2

Captive

The next time Kamui awoke, it was with a gasp, jolting up, only then realizing he was in a large, four-poster bed as the thick covers dropped to his waist. Immediately every muscle in his body complained at the jarring action, the soreness having finally set in for good. Kamui winced, but only for a second. He was in a large room, lavishly furnished with dressers and nightstands and drapes and thick carpet, and he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there and he wanted out, out, out!

He jerked the covers the rest of the way back, and forced his sore, tired legs off the edge of the bed, dangling in the air a good foot above the floor for a second. Then he jumped off… and immediately collapsed, crying out in stark pain as his legs refused to hold him up, and his feet (which had hitherto seemed blessedly numb) sent sharp stabs of agony to his brain. For a few minutes he simply lied there, breathing raggedly against the carpet. Then, as the pain receded, he slowly uncurled and tried tentatively to get to his feet, clinging to the bed post. And that was when the man found him, just as his second attempt ended in utter failure, and he was clinging to the edges of the blankets rather pitifully.

"Now, now, enough of that," the man said chidingly, taking in his deplorable state. "We can't have you hurting yourself, now can we?" Kamui shrank back against the bed, staring with wide-eyed alarm at the black-garbed specter before him. He was tall and imposing, with a pair of small shades resting on the bridge of his nose.

"Who…" Kamui whispered.

"I'm Lord Monou Fuuma," the man supplied, smiling. "And you are?"

"Kamui." He didn't like the way the man smiled, more a predatory grin than a smile.

"Well then, Kamui…" Fuuma glided forward, amused by the way the boy instinctively tried to flinch away, and knelt down so they were almost level. He wrinkled his nose. "You need a bath." Without waiting for a reply, he swept the delicate-looking boy into his arms, once again amused as the boy let out an indignant squeak and immediately clutched at his shirt in panic.

"No, no, really…" Kamui managed, as he was carried down a hall and into an elegant bathroom, all protests ignored. He was set down on a rug on the floor while Fuuma turned the water on in the bath, twisting the hot and cold handles until he was satisfied. Then he turned back to Kamui. A small smirk was Kamui's only warning before the man grabbed his tattered shirt and jerked it off over his head.

"Monou-sama!" Kamui gasped, jerking backward, only to hit his head rather painfully on the corner of a cabinet.

"Fuuma," Fuuma replied, advancing on the cowering boy, who was effectively trapped between him and the cabinet. "Just Fuuma." Kamui's eyes repeatedly flitted toward the closed door. At the last second he made a half-hearted attempt to escape, only to hiss as his injured feet hit the floor, sending pain stabbing through him again. Then Fuuma's arm wrapped around his waist, jerking him back effortlessly into the man's lap, where he was quickly divested of any remaining articles of clothing.

"None of that," Fuuma whispered into the boy's ear, enjoying the sound of the boy's heart beating under his palm. So light. So fast. Like a little bird. "You can't escape." Kamui curled into a defensive ball, which simply made it easier for Fuuma to pick him up and dump him unceremoniously in the bathtub. Water splashed over and hit the floor. Kamui spluttered for a few moments, reaching out to cling to the edge of the tub with white-knuckled hands, looking rather deplorable. Fuuma picked up the soap and began to scrub the boy down, scouring the dirt out of the fine skin, receiving multiple glares for his trouble and a couple undignified squeaks and squirms as he worked his way lower. He left the boy's feet alone for the time being, hoping the water would soak off some of the dirt, and turned his attention elsewhere.

Kamui gasped as Fuuma suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked him backwards, down into the water. He flailed for a few minutes, splashing horribly, before he realized that the man wasn't trying to drown him. Even then, it took all his concentration to submit calmly and not struggle against the hold as shampoo and conditioner were worked into his hair, almost gently, in sharp contrast to the hand still fisted painfully through the dark strands. Still, he choked on a mouthful of water as he was suddenly released and sat up spluttering.

Fuuma was pleased to see that under all that dust and blood, the boy's hair washed out a feathery black. Satisfied, he reached under the water to grab one thin ankle and jerk the foot up, eyeing it clinically through his shades. The water had soaked off the top layer of dirt, but the sole was still black and crusted with old blood. It was going to have to come off. He reached back and pulled a washcloth from a small pile in the cabinet. Then he began to scrub.

Kamui jerked as the washcloth initially pressed against the sole of his foot, gasping in pain. Then, as Fuuma started in earnest, he whimpered pitifully and attempted to twist free. But Fuuma was firm, gripping one ankle and then the other with a tight hold, ignoring the boy's pitiful attempts to free himself.

It was Fuuma's turn however, to make a pained "Hn!" sound as his ministrations broke open the wounds underneath and fresh blood seeped out. His hand tightened involuntarily on the boy's ankle.

It was Kamui's pained "You're one of them!" that brought him back to his senses, and he realized he'd unconsciously leaned forward, eyelids dropping to shadow gold eyes. He smirked down at the helpless boy, an Oh-I-know smile, and returned to scrubbing.

And eventually, as Kamui writhed and struggled feebly, his feet were scrubbed free of the dirt and old blood. Fuuma kept a hold on the ankle with one hand and lifted his shades with the other so he could better inspect the now-clean foot. The sole was covered in deep lacerations that were bleeding profusely from the rough treatment, dripping a fine trail of blood into the water.

Fuuma made a disparaging sound, and then lifted the boy out of the tub, settling him on his lap, letting the water drain. As if to make up for his rough treatment earlier, he applied antiseptic to the wounds with the lightest of pressure, before wrapping both feet firmly in layers of gauze. Then he grabbed a towel and started toweling the boy dry, occasionally pausing to run slender fingers over the large purple splotches that decorated the stomach and chest and arms and legs with the gentlest of caresses, while Kamui clung to him, long eyelashes resting against pale skin. Really, Fuuma thought, the boy cleaned up pretty. Once the last couple days' dirt was washed away, he had such porcelain pale skin, if only it weren't for the bruises… He made a sound of slight disapproval. But those would fade soon enough.

Wrapping the towel around the boy's body, he started to stand, noticing at the last minute something dark amid the discarded pile of clothes on the floor. He stared at it for a few seconds, then turned and carried the boy back into the bedroom, laying him down on the bed. He left for a bit to find something for the boy to wear, which turned out to be one of his silk shirts, absently picking up the small black scrap of cloth from the bathroom while he was at it. Then, once the boy was wearing something, he sat down on the bed next to him.

"What do you want from me?" Kamui watched him warily, wide amethyst eyes confused. Fuuma chuckled.

"You're only here because you smell like him." Fuuma caught Kamui's hand in his own and pressed it to his face, inhaling slightly.

"What?" Kamui blinked, thinking maybe he'd misheard. He was a little distracted by the feel of Fuuma's lips against his palm.

"Him! You have his scent on you!" Fuuma's grip tightened on Kamui's hand and he closed his eyes, long lashes lying against pale skin in concentration, taking in that scent that still clung to the boy's skin, faint but discernible. An old smell, not like the dust and mold and cracklings of old books, nor really like the stale smell of long-trapped air, but that unique old smell of ancient power. Thoughtfully, he flicked his tongue against the skin of the boy's palm, reassured by the faint taste that still lingered there and amused by the reflexive curling of the boy's fingers. Fuuma opened his eyes to pin the boy with a suddenly-intense, golden gaze. "You've seen him. You've touched him. Tell me, where is he?"

Kamui felt suddenly very small and helpless, like a moth pinned to the headboard, under that gaze. He wet his lips, trying to gather his senses, trying to remember what he was supposed to be saying… But when he didn't answer immediately, he was shoved back, truly pinned now, the older boy hovering over him menacingly, effortlessly, golden eyes intense.

"Where?!" Not loud, but sharp, dangerous.

Kamui cringed, shying away from the man, trying to make himself smaller if that were possible. His wrist, still crushed in the other's grip, was sending sharp pain signals to his brain.

"I-I don't know!" he burst out, panting slightly from the pain. Then, just as suddenly, he was released. A small, black glove was thrust before him.

"Where did you get this?" Fuuma asked, holding the glove as though it were something infinitely precious.

"It was my twin brother's," Kamui replied, voice a fading whisper. He bit his lip painfully. "But he's gone now. That man took him…"

"Who?" Not that Fuuma didn't already know, but he wanted the confirmation.

"Sakurazuka Seishirou."

Fuuma's grin nearly split his face in two at that—a grin of utter triumph that promised torture and retribution and exquisite pain in the near future. He threw his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed. Kamui curled up on himself, wishing to escape that horrid sound. Finally, after what seemed forever, it petered off into chuckles.

"Seishirou," Fuuma grinned once he'd managed to stop laughing. "Seishirou, Seishirou… who never touches anyone or anything. Seishirou, who never leaves a trace, a trail, a scent anywhere. Seishirou, always so clever, so careful… Seishirou… Touched… Claimed… a boy, took him for his own, and left the brother alive!" Here he almost broke into maniacal laughter again, but suppressed it with malevolent glee. "And now…" Fuuma reached out and ran his fingers through Kamui's black hair almost lovingly, twisting one dark lock around his finger. "Now I have the brother…" And his eyes gleamed with triumphant malice in the dark.

Seishirou watched his sleeping prize with interest. The pretty thing had cried in his sleep at first, crystalline tears clinging to black lashes, every now and then crying out softly, his face drawn in the sweetest agony. But now he was still, knees drawn halfway to his chest, small hands fisted loosely in the sheets. Altogether lovely.

The boy's bare feet were a bit torn up, but nothing too bad. Inspecting one thoughtfully, he ran a finger gently over the dainty toes and the deep cuts and bruises, down to the heel, duly rewarded when the boy twitched slightly and curled up a little more. Seishirou observed this reaction with delight and decided he much preferred it like this, when the boy reacted to him, rather than to some dream. Grinning mischievously, he went to get a bucket of warm water and a rag and began meticulously washing the boy's feet off. Oh so gently he ran the rag over the boy's sole, enjoying the way the boy squirmed deliciously in his sleep, hands alternately loosening and clutching at the sheets. Seishirou chuckled. This really was too much fun.

It seemed to him he was done all too soon. So he went to get clean water and started cleaning the scratches on the boy's arms, then carefully worked the pitch out of his hair. Watching the boy's face as he slept brought back memories…

Standing on a dusty corner, listening to the faint sounds of music and laughter from taverns down the street, feeling distinctly bored. It was a tiny little village as villages went, far from any city or trade route, but that was how Seishirou preferred it. It was easier to hide kills in the city, true, but all those people packed into such a small area also meant more chances of being caught and more of his own kind to worry about. Seishirou wasn't particularly fond of sharing. Besides, the people on the outskirts, they were more wary, more aware of the fleetingness of their existence, and simultaneously more secure in the safety of their warm little homes. It was so easy to shatter that safety. In a world where most novelties had long since worn off, Seishirou still enjoyed getting to his prey where they believed they were safest, throwing all those little lives into chaos. It was a fun little challenge. Of course, the other advantage of hunting so far out was the length of time it took news to travel. He could be done and gone for weeks before anyone looking for him even heard about it.

He stood for a few moments, contemplating the rows of dark windows thoughtfully, selecting one with careful consideration. Seconds later he had dragged one precious little bundle out the window and away from prying eyes. The streets were practically deserted at night in the village, and he was careful, concealing himself from any prying human eyes that might stumble across them by accident. So he was more than a little shocked to be suddenly ripped free of the pleasure of his meal by the feel of a foreign gaze. He looked up to find a young boy standing before him, staring pitifully at the little bundle in his arms. For a few minutes they both froze, staring at each other. Two thoughts flicked through Seishirou's mind in rapid succession: the boy had to be from one of the Families, and what a waste it was going to be to kill someone with Power. That was the only explanation after all—only someone with Power could see through his illusion, and those with Power invariably belonged to those ancient Families whose destiny it was to govern and direct the forces that comprised the world. It was that very Power that made them simultaneously delectable and incredibly dangerous.

Seishirou tensed, waiting for the inevitable moment when the boy's eyes would widen in horror and he would turn and run. But the moment came… and went, and against all odds the boy took a faltering step towards him.

"Please…" he whispered. "Please don't hurt her." Seishirou blinked, taken aback, then shook his head. This changed nothing. The boy still had to die. He smiled pleasantly and stood, stepping over the broken little body. If the boy was too stupid to run, well that just made it easier. Seishirou held out a hand.

"Come here, little one." The boy looked at it, then looked up into Seishirou's eyes, and for the second time that night Seishirou found himself surprised. The boy had beautiful emerald eyes, and a pale face framed by tufts of fine black hair. Slender fingers graced smooth, small hands. But it was the eyes… Seishirou laughed to find that for once it was he who was entranced by another's gaze.

"Come here, little one. I won't hurt you." And he was surprised again to find he meant it. Cautiously the pretty little thing placed his small hand in Seishirou's, and Seishirou pulled him close, looking deep into those brilliant green eyes. "Well, what shall we do with you? I bet you have a family worried about you…" Between his voice and his gaze, the boy was beginning to look confused, eyelids fluttering half closed in an adorably dazed look. Seishirou gazed down at the boy fondly and held him close for a while, pondering.

"What's your name?" he asked absently, partly to pass time while he thought.

"Subaru," the boy answered obediently. Seishirou tilted his head thoughtfully, finally coming to a decision.

"Forget," he whispered to the boy's subconscious mind, stroking one pretty cheek. "Forget me. Forget what I am. Forget what you've seen." Once he was sure the commands would be observed, he let the boy go, watching in amusement as green eyes widened in surprise and pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry!" Subaru squeaked, hurrying to free himself from Seishirou's hold and stand on his own. "I didn't mean to…" Confusion creased his features as he tried in vain to remember what happened.

"Trip," Seishirou supplied, smiling lightly. "Quite alright, really. Lucky I was here."

"Ah… yes." Subaru didn't quite look convinced. He bowed again. "I-I'm sorry for inconveniencing you, really. Ah… hmm. I really must be going. N-Not that I'm not grateful, it's just…" He looked briefly down the street, thoughts flickering undoubtedly to the family that was waiting for him.

"It's just…?" Seishirou prompted.

"I'm terribly late, and my mother is probably worried."

"Let me accompany you," Seishirou suggested. "After all, it's not safe out alone in the dark."

"Ah… hmm," the boy blushed, bowing again. "I couldn't really. I've already bothered you, and…"

"No bother," Seishirou was quick to intercede. "I would be happy to. Come on."

It didn't take long for the boy to cave. Seishirou smiled to himself as he walked Subaru home. He was careful to work his way into the boy's life, and he quickly became a trusted family friend, even if sometimes he thought the mother suspected… But it was of little consequence. For the next several years, he was careful to always hunt in other villages, as far away as possible, always careful to make sure no one suspected… no one came near… Sometimes others of his own kind got too close and Seishirou dealt with them accordingly. And amusingly enough, during those years, that village became one of the safest places to live. But then…

Then there was that day… everything came to an end.

Seishirou snapped out of his thoughts. There were some things he didn't want to remember. Now the boy was with him, where he belonged, safe from those who wished them harm, vampire and vampire hunter alike. No one could take him away. Seishirou was still a bit unsure what his original purpose had been in keeping the boy alive, other than as a source of amusement. Nor did he know for certain what he intended to do with the boy now. But one thing he knew for certain: Subaru was his, and no one else was allowed to touch him. If the boy was going to die, it would be by his hand—he was the only one allowed to watch the light fade from those green, green eyes.

A small contented noise from Subaru made Seishirou realize he'd been running his fingers through the boy's hair. He smiled fondly and watched as the boy's eyes finally flickered open.

Author Note: Okay, did this clear everything up a bit more? I hope this chapter helped make everything a bit clearer. And I apologize for the length of this Author Note—I'll try to keep everything shorter next time, but I have a few announcements to get out of the way…

First, you should thank Schnick—she's the one who harangued me into posting this today. XD We've decided, from now on I'll attempt to post a chapter every 3 weeks, under 3 conditions: I have another chapter finished by then so that I remain 5 chapters ahead of you at all times, I don't have homework that's killing me, and I actually have access to net. (I figure not being mortally wounded goes without saying) Also, the chapters seem to be ending up at about 3k words apiece (random information there), and if you ever want to know how far I am, I've been trying to keep my profile pretty much up to date with a chapter and word count.

Second, that story I mentioned in my first chapter… I actually finished and posted it. And ouch. It really wasn't as liked as this story. Clearly, I'm just not that good at humor. This'll teach me to stick to horror/angst where I belong… o_o

Third, so my Char-Beta was saddened that Sei didn't mark Subaru like in TB, but ah, Sei stays with him, so he didn't really need the marks to identify the boy again. We also both think Kamui was a little demure, and that's because I chose to portray Fuuma and Kamui's interaction like it is in X after sides are chosen, where Kamui can't find it in himself to fight Fuuma. I don't intend for this to last forever though. Also, there was some amount of last-minute discussion over whether "Lord Fuuma" translates into "Fuuma-sama" or "Fuuma-dono." XD We did our best. If anyone wants to correct me, the help would be appreciated.

Finally, I'm interested to know how many people are reading this fic for Kamui and Fuuma and how many are reading for Sei and Subaru. Any characterizations/information you weren't expecting or that seemed random? Next chapter, Subaru and Sei actually have a conversation! It's a miracle!

Review Responses:

Schnickledooger: Thanks again Schnick for looking over these chapters and being patient while I ask all sorts of questions. You've been more than helpful. Thank you.

Laustic: I have to thank you, because five minutes before you reviewed I was moping, thinking I must really suck as a writer if no one liked the story and that maybe I should give up trying to write X since I clearly had no talent. But it was right about then that your review came in, and it was total happiness! It made my day! Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Sky Falls: Thank you for your review! You've probably figured this out now, but yes, Subaru and Kamui are literal brothers in this story. I've been pulling things from Tsubasa and X both, but not truly sticking to either. However, I'm definitely sticking closest to X, with some exceptions including: Subaru and Kamui are the same age, Kamui and Fuuma's powers had to be limited, Subaru can't see dead people (there was no point in keeping this ability), etc. And while I had fun fitting in little bits of actual canon, like Subaru wearing gloves, it's almost never for the same reason (he isn't hiding any marks). And oh! You're the second person, and probably not the last, to think Subaru is now a vampire! I couldn't figure out why everyone kept thinking this 'till I went back and reread that last line from Subaru. Oh… Eh heh, I knew it was a bit vague, but I figured people would think one of three things... a) Sei kissed him, or b) Sei used some sort of spell to knock him unconscious, or c) Sei bit him. All of which were fine by me (except one gets disproved in chapter 5). Anyway, no, when/if Subaru becomes a vampire, I'll make sure it's thoroughly detailed. I loved your review!

CheshireCat: I think I might have, um, lost part of your review… It seems to be cut off in the middle of something… ^^;; "Bad fanfiction site! Bad! I want to know what she said!" I feel quite thoroughly distressed by this. T_T

Luna Moonserf: Just double-checking, did you get my review response?

x lost fairytale: I'm glad that you found this fic interesting! Of course, now the hardest part is next: keeping that interest. I figure this will be the chapter that I lose people who don't like where they think this is going or don't like my version of the character's personalities. Here's hoping it goes well...

Tenshi Gosuperu: You know, I stumbled across one of the X vamp fics by accident (surprised they were not Tsubasa versions, but actual X vamps… it was very nice), but when I went to look for more… I was vaguely disappointed. All of them were so short! A couple of them were very cute, but unbelievably succinct. I even read all of the poorly written ones out of desperation… It bothered me just enough I guess that I couldn't get rid of the idea of doing my own—one with more substance and length. At the very least, I can now say that this won't be as short as the rest! Can't promise it will be finished yet, but I've already more than doubled the word length of even the longest previously written X vamp fic, and I'm still going. *laugh* Aw, the faithfully reading every chapter is a good thing! But the faithfully reviewing every chapter… now that's a bit more rare. ^_~ Thanks for the review!