Chapter Two
By the time Fuuma handed his homework back, it looked as if someone had been gutted over it. Eyeing his friend warily, for the moment ignoring the corrections in favor of propping his chin up on his hand and his hand on the low table, he schooled his face into what he hoped was something chiding. "I think you have too much fun with that pen..."
Unable to help herself, Kotori giggled, though she had the good grace to try and hide it behind her hands. The subject of his ire just raised an eyebrow, his eyes glimmering in a way that could very well imply that he agreed. Sighing heavily, Kamui finally began to look at the paper in front of him. Long years of practice had taught him to make multiple copies of his worksheets on days that he studied at the Monou household. Invariably, Fuuma would make him do it again. He couldn't blame the older boy for it, he'd asked for the help, after all. His mother would kill him if he failed Calculus again.
A month into the new term, and it looked as if he would, at that. "I am never going to use this," he groused as he pulled out a fresh copy of the assignment. He shot Fuuma a challenging look. Everything between them recently had become competitive; neither of them could say a word without the other putting in his two cents. In a way, it was great. He hadn't known Fuuma could be that stubborn. Proof that seven years of friendship hadn't revealed everything. "When am I ever going to use this?"
The other had to think about it a minute before shrugging. "In third-year math," he replied simply.
Kamui made a loud noise of frustration and threw the exceedingly red paper at him; that set Kotori off again, laughing so hard her frail shoulders shook. He felt a bit of his irritation ebb as his face set into something fond. Really, he should be worried about exciting her. None of them really knew what caused her heart trouble, so they were often overly careful. But it was nice to see her laugh. He caught Fuuma watching him as he glanced back across the table and received a slight smile when their eyes met.
Kotori's laughter calmed after a few moments, long enough to hear the distinct hiccup which set off another burst of giggling. Even her brother's subtle mask fell as he joined in. Kamui tossed his pencil down onto the table and climbed to his feet. "I'm going to get something to drink," he managed, snickering all the way to the kitchen. He grabbed a well-used tray and some glasses, poking around in the refrigerator for the orange juice they always had in there. He probably could recite the contents of the fridge from memory, and he did make a note to add milk to the shopping list because they were getting low. Sometimes he considered the Togakushi Shrine to be more of his home than his own; after moving to Tokyo years ago, he'd probably spent more time there than anywhere else. For his birthday one year, they had jokingly given him his very own futon and designated that the spot directly next to Fuuma's bed as his.
He grabbed a chair and used it to gain an extra meter in order to scrounge for some kind of snack. Fuuma liked crackers but Kotori preferred something sweeter; Kamui himself had no problem with either and generally ate what was put in front of him. His fingers had just brushed the cellophane wrapper of something promising when he heard the angry rise of a woman's voice coming from another room. The surprise nearly made him topple off the chair. His mother's voice was often chilly, but she rarely yelled. For a moment, he held his breath and just listened. He heard the murmur of his uncle's voice as he probably tried to calm her down.
"It's not up for discussion," she snapped in reply, and Kamui winced. He'd heard those words more than once, more often of late, when he'd wanted to do something she'd been totally opposed to. Being careful to remain absolutely quiet, he climbed down off the chair and moved closer to the kitchen's other door in order to hear more clearly.
"... gain nothing from leaving him in the dark, Magami-san."
Even after seven years, Uncle Kyougo still called his mother by her last name. He'd asked when he was younger, why they seemed to be so distant with each other when he was practically family. He noticed that it had begun after Aunt Saya died, but he'd never been given a clear answer.
"How can you tell me that when you're doing the same?" Tooru's voice approached a shrill pitch that actually scared him. He'd never heard his mother lose control like this before. "I've noticed you've said nothing about what's going to happen either, and you're so close to him, aren't you?" A cold lump settled in his stomach as he took a step back from the door. They were talking about him. He was certain of it, though he didn't exactly know why. Curiosity gnawed at him, but the sense of dread was just as strong. He probably didn't want to know what they hadn't told him. It could be any number of things. Bizarrely, the first thing that came to mind was that he was really a Monou and because of some illicit affair, no one had told him.
He knocked into a chair and swore under his breath as it toppled to the floor, halting all conversation from the other room. He cursed a little louder when the door slid open. Uncle Kyougo was not a young man, but that night he looked very, very old. Still, as he always did in his "nephew's" presence, he smiled gently. "Come in, Kamui," he said as he pushed the door open further. "We were just talking about you."
Cringing, the boy stepped into the room and glanced at his mother as if to apologize. Despite her earlier outburst, she didn't look angry. She looked like Uncle Kyougo -- tired, older. And she looked afraid. Kamui fidgeted until she gestured for him to sit, sighing as she did. "I'm sorry you overheard, Kamui-chan." She and Kotori used the same nickname with him, but from his mother the affection always sounded a shade less sincere. To his surprise, she took his hand and held it tightly, her other hand reaching up to press against his cheek. The cold lump melted instantly into hot, twisting fear and he regretted eavesdropping with every thread of his being.
"Kamui-chan," his mother began. "I'm going to die."
Papers shifted restlessly against one another, conveying the feelings of the girl who held them more eloquently than words. However, she did try. "He's taking a long time in there..."
Fuuma glanced up at his sister, his pen stilling in the middle of a complicated kanji. "I'm sure he's just trying to get out of doing his homework," he said with a smirk. "I wouldn't worry."
Kotori smiled a little, her own expression turning wry. "I think he's hiding from you, Oniichan," she giggled and Fuuma laughed with her, though he thought it felt a bit forced. Even if only a joke, he didn't like the idea. It didn't fit in with how things should be if Kamui felt the need to actively avoid him.
Suddenly the shoji between the kitchen and living room slid open with a bang, the frame rattled on the wooden rails. Aunt Tooru hurried through the doorway, giving the siblings a tight-lipped smile as she headed toward the foyer. Kotori had risen halfway from the table, and called a confused farewell to the dark-haired woman. Her gaze met Fuuma's and he saw his own confusion mirrored in her eyes. Fuuma got to his feet; he knew his father was somewhere downstairs, maybe he could tell them what happened. He had taken two steps before bumping into a pale, wide-eyed Kamui.
"Kamui?" Fuuma held him by the shoulders. "What happened?"
Kamui's eyes met his and despite their years of friendship, even Fuuma couldn't translate all the emotions he saw. He felt a hand on his forearm and Kamui looked about to say something, but then abruptly stepped back. The smaller boy rubbed the back of his neck and waved dismissively with his free hand. "N...nothing, Fuuma," he replied, and Fuuma's frown deepened at the shaky tone of his voice.
"Kamui-chan?"
Both boys turned toward Kotori, whose blue eyes had begun to fill with tears. Kamui swallowed and tried to smile at her. "It's all right, Kotori-chan." He stepped away from Fuuma and began to pack up his book bag. "I've got to go home now, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Though Kamui was speaking to his sister, Fuuma nodded as well, mechanically. The younger boy wasn't meeting either of their eyes now.
"Bye," Kamui called as he hurried to follow his mother.
"Oh, Tooru, he's beautiful," Saya breathed, watching their children play together in the other room. She closed the shoji carefully, leaving only a hand's width of space open. Neither mother worried about leaving the trio alone; Fuuma would take care of the younger two. Saya turned back to the other woman and toyed with a long, curly lock of her brown hair. "He looks just like you."
Tooru's gaze flicked from those long fingers to Saya's blue eyes, and she smiled back; giddiness forced the smile wider and shyer than she'd intended it to be. Of course, her emotions rarely stayed under her control when Saya was around. "But look at you," she replied, voice not quite a whisper. "Two of your own." The prophecies had decreed as much, but actually seeing Saya's children was quite something else. If anything, motherhood had made the blonde lovelier. Or maybe that was absence.
A playful wink. "Now you'll think I'm old."
"What? Never! I was just thinking you--"
One cool, petal-soft finger pressed against her lips. Tooru felt a gentle tug as Saya wound the lock of hair more securely around her fingers, and drew in a soft breath. As much power as Magami Tooru possessed, she had none when it came to the woman standing before her. Her throat tightened painfully, aware of the delight and the anguish in that knowledge.
Saya slowly pulled her finger away; her eyes danced as she leaned forward. "I missed you so much," she whispered, and the lump in Tooru's throat eased as she closed her eyes.
"Mama?"
The women leaned back quickly, both looking down at Kamui. Tooru felt her face grow warm, but beside her, Saya smiled easily and crouched down to his eye level. "What is it, darling?" Kamui looked at his mother questioningly before replying to Saya.
"Kotori-chan and Fuuma want to go outside and play," he murmured to his feet. "May I go too?"
Saya glanced up at Tooru and laughed, then touched Kamui's cheek and nodded. "Of course you may. All of you get your coats and we'll go outside."
As the little boy ran back to tell his companions, Tooru felt Saya squeeze her hand.