Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, not for sale. All characters are the property of Sunrise, Bandai, Sci Fi Channel, et cetera. You know the drill. Also, I'd recommend that you re-read previous chapters before this one, especially if you'd like to figure things out. Lots of important hints and clues.
Three hundred and twenty years have passed
Since the Coven sank in the dark.
Morning.
Cycles of Craft and memory .
Ambush into a gathering of truth.
A downpour begins with a single drop.
Chapter 7: When It Rains
It was a dark and stormy night.
The scent of fresh-brewed coffee permeated Karasuma's apartment, bringing with it a warm alertness that she desperately needed. At four in the morning, after a late night spent researching for today's briefing...to say she was tired would be an understatement. "Sakaki," she murmured. "Sakaki, it's alright. Speak a little slower, please."
His shoulders rose and fell with the force of his breath. "Slower," he mumbled. "Right." When Sakaki had first arrived at her apartment, he had been late, tired, soaking wet-but relatively calm. Now he shivered under a thick layer of towels, his fingers digging desperately into the wood of her kitchen table. It didn't take a psychic to see his trembling shoulders, the softly stepping trepidation that had clearly snuck up on him. "Where do I start talking...?"
Moving slowly and smoothly, Karasuma poured two cups of coffee. "Yesterday's Hunt," she replied. "After we lost you." After he had lost them, really, but Karasuma refrained from saying that aloud. Instead, she simply slid into a chair, then propped both her elbows on the table. There could be no sudden movements tonight.
"Right." He clung to the mug with his good hand, took a deep breath, tried to steady himself. "He said I'm a Witch."
"A Witch?" Karasuma furrowed her brows lightly. "Ridiculous. We have Craft-users and Seeds on our team, but not…" She trailed off, frowning a bit at the very thought. "Sakaki, you're not a Witch. Just having a Craft doesn't make you one. It's losing control of your Craft that does it." As she spoke, Karasuma reached out and rested a hand on his cast.
The coffee mug rattled in his hand. "I am losing it," he mumbled. "It won't stop. Just keeps getting stronger." Now the entire table rattled, causing a small vase of flowers to chatter wildly against the wood. He pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. "I can't stop it. Can't even think straight." The orbo, which had been dangling peacefully around his neck, flared a brilliant green. "D-dammit Karasuma, I can't-"
At that moment, something seemed to snap. Both coffee mugs lifted in the air for a split second, then smashed themselves against the table with startling ferocity. Porcelain exploded in a shower of white chips; the flower vase whistled past Karasuma's ear a split second later, forcing her to duck low against the table. And in the middle of it all sat Sakaki, his hands clawing so desperately at his head that she feared he might hurt himself.
"Sakaki. Sakaki, calm down." A few swift strides carried her to his side, allowed her to clasp slender fingers around his trembling ones. And when that proved to be insuffient comfort for the rookie, Karasuma took one step more. Those reassuring hands slid up to his shoulders and then along his back; she needed only to cradle his head against hers in order to complete the embrace. "Sakaki," she murmured again. "It's alright."
He shuddered against her as the last of his Craft escaped him; then, with a raspy sigh of relief, Sakaki relaxed. They huddled together in the kitchen for a moment, he gasping for air and she continuing to card her fingers through his hair. Only after his shivering had stopped did she release him, and even then she continued to keep an eye on him. "You're not losing it," she continued softly. "All Crafts are difficult at first. Even mine was."
That startled him enough to send another Craft-induced shudder through the table. "It was?" he echoed. "But yours-"
"-isn't dangerous?" Karasuma allowed her eyelids to glide shut, her expression calm and contemplative. Almost immediately, she sensed the familiar tug of her own Craft, the soft eddies and whirlpools made from the residue of human contact. A psychic signature, her teacher had called it: the lingering traces of who and what had gone before. Or, in the case of an energized situation such as this, the here and now. Sakaki's rogue Craft now distorted everything with its power, snapping and crackling and electrifying her senses. Much to her alarm, it had grown considerably in the hours since their last meeting; it writhed like an organic dynamo of energy, barely contained by his puny human frame.
"Everything is dangerous," she continued, now reaching a hand out to clasp his shoulder. Her own abilities rippled painfully as they contacted him, but she maintained her grip. "I could not control my Craft either, at first." The very thought provoked painful memories-drowning in emotions at every touch, bleeding her own with such vigor she felt lifeless by the end of the day, long scratch marks along her head and face from where she had attempted to claw out her own brain. "It's never easy. No matter what it is you're dealing with."
He shivered beneath her, and the room echoed him with a shudder. "Still feels like shit," he mumbled. As he spoke, Sakaki fumbled for the Orbo pendant around his neck, clutching it to his heart like it was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. "Dammit, I dunno what to do."
Something flickered in Karasuma's mind-a blotch of blood-black staining his too-bright Craft-but it died as she attempted to focus on it. Something was wrong here. "Sakaki?" she murmured gently. Her hand probed lower along his chest, trying to sense the blemish she'd felt a moment before. "When did you first feel your Craft manifesting?"
Another shudder, stronger this time. The dynamo spiraled inwards again and cycled wildly, spurred on to greater power by-what? "Couple days ago," he admitted, obviously reluctant to reveal how long he'd been hiding this. "Felt something under the catwalk from that one hunt. Kept me from being Hunter pizza." He cracked a thin smile even as more power shuddered through him. "Been getting worse since then," he continued. "Little bits've clumsiness. And-" At that, he paused, hesitant to admit his mistakes. "-the Hunt," he finished with a mumble. "It keeps cycling. In and out."
Cycling. That was it. Even as she focused on the concept and allowed herself to perceive the circuit of energy in Sakaki's Craft, she found the blemish-and her fingers touched smooth glass. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she allowed her eyes to flutter open again. A green vial of Orbo greeted her gaze, the liquid pulsing and writhing within its glass prison. "And when did you get this Orbo?" she continued. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong.
He paused this time as he struggled to remember. "Not long before that. It's fresh." As Sakaki mumbled those words, his hands drifted down to pry the precious talisman out of her grasp. "Leave it alone. It-hnn-" the teenager leaned forward suddenly, his face contorted with pain, "-doesn't wanna move." At that, Sakaki managed a weak grin. "I think it likes me too much."
"Maybe. I'm still concerned." If he had received the fresh Orbo only a few days ago, and these symptoms had shown up in the time since then… "This is going to sound difficult," she continued softly, "but you should remove it. I think something's wrong."
At that, Sakaki paled. "Remove it? You kidding me?" He trembled considerably, and she could see the table rattling again in preparation for another Craft spasm. "This's the only thing stopping my-" he choked on the word 'Craft,' "-stopping it from going batshit insane. I can't get control of it."
"It may be causing the lack of control, Sakaki," replied Karasuma. "Tell you what. I'll swap my Orbo for yours." She removed her hand from his chest and moved instead to undo the clasp at the back of her own neck. Sparkling in the light, her Orbo dropped gently to the wood of the table and lay still.
For a moment, Sakaki seemed reluctant to do anything besides sit there with his healthy arm wrapped protectively around the back of head. Sakaki, thought the female Hunter. I wish I could help you more. She longed to reach out to him again, as she had done mere moments before, but he seemed past help. And as more tremors rocked the room, she began to lose hope that he would accept her advice-
Something pinged. Instinctively, Karasuma looked up, worried that a ceiling panel had come loose, but her fears died as her gaze returned to the table. Sakaki's Orbo lay on the table next to hers, and both glowed with soft emerald light. Interestingly enough, Sakaki's was much brighter than hers despite their equal proximity to the rookie Hunter. Definitely the Orbo, concluded Karasuma. As for Sakaki, he tensed and shuddered from the absence of protection against his Craft; she sensed a wave of power explode outwards through the room, rattling anything not nailed to the floor.
And then, quite suddenly, it subsided. He drew in a long breath-a first breath, as of a drowning person suddenly breaking the surface of the water-and then all but collapsed in his chair. "Holy hell," he mumbled. "I think I'm gonna need more coffee."
Karasuma blinked at him, stared, looked taken aback; then, quite suddenly, she laughed. Out of all the things he could have said… "I'll make another batch. I think we're both going to need it," she replied, unable to keep a faint chuckle out of her voice. With her usual smooth grace, the female hunter gathered up the coffee mug that had not been shattered, made a mental note to sweep the floor for the other one, and carried it over to the sink. From there it was a simple matter to get the coffee maker started and to allow the musky scent of caffiene to permeate the air once again.
He seemed to be doing better. Whatever final shudder had gone through him, it had done much to clear his senses. The younger Hunter shivered mostly with cold and ordinary exhaustion now. Occasionally, more quivers of Craft rolled through him, but they had lost much of their power. It helped considerably that he had accepted her offer to swap Orbo; her pendant encircled his neck now rather than his (apparently) faulty accessory. Once he had calmed enough to be rational and the coffee was percolating nicely, Karasuma returned once again to the table. "You have a Craft, Sakaki."
A derisive snort. "Yeah. I figured that one out myself."
"No, I mean you have a Craft," repeated Karasuma, her words firm and insistent. "As in, it must have come from somewhere. It must have a history." She drummed her trimly manicured fingers against the table. "Have you had any outbursts like this before?"
At that, the rookie looked thoughtful. Or tired, perhaps; her eyes were beginning to fail her as her energy ran low. Even coffee wasn't much help at five in the morning. "Hell no," he replied. "Why would I? This's the first I've had to deal with the damn thing."
Karasuma sighed and massaged her temples. At least he was feeling better. She, on the other hand, desperately needed some asprin. "What about your family? Did they have any abilities?" By now the coffee had almost finished, so she walked back into the kitchen to attend to it.
Meanwhile, the rookie had a puzzled expression on his face. "My family? Don't remember."
"What do you mean, 'don't remember'?" Karasuma returned to the table with two fresh mugs of coffee, placing one before Sakaki and keeping one for herself. "You don't remember if they have Crafts, or you don't remember them at all?"
He squirmed at that, as if suddenly realizing something obvious that had never quite occurred to him before. "Uhh. Not at all. Everything's kinda fuzzy more than a few years back, actually. Motorcycle accident while I was still training to be a Hunter," said Sakaki, interspersing his response with sips of coffee. "But most Hunters don't remember that far anyway, right?"
Karasuma remained silent for a long moment. "No," she murmured at last. "I don't doubt that all of us have been tinkered with at one time or another, but-" What kind of an idiot was he? How did someone think that kind of memory problem was normal? "Sakaki, missing fifteen years of your life isn't normal. At all." Frowning with both concern and irritation, Karasuma fixed Sakaki with a steady stare. "Didn't you ever think to question that?"
Sakaki scowled. "Course not. Didn't affect anything," he retorted. It didn't take any extension of her Craft for her to realize what he was thinking; stop treating me like I'm an idiot was written on Sakaki's face as clear as day. "I mean, yeah. The accident held me back. I was 'sposed to come in with Kate, but between rehab and relearning everything…"
"But you don't have anything before that?"
Another scowl. "I told you, it got wiped out. Sorry." Now that his Craft had all but stopped troubling him for the moment, Sakaki's mood had worsened considerably. Not having to deal with an emergency left them both tired, irritated, and more than a little snippy with each other. "I don't see what you're getting at," he continued. "Why's it matter?"
"Why does it-" Her utter frustration choked anything else she might have said. "Sakaki. Having that sort of gap should be cause for concern. Especially considering everything that's been happening lately."
Finally (and fortunately-her patience was beginning to wear thin), recognition dawned in his face. "I…haven't had time to think about it," he mumbled, one hand reaching automatically to rub at his head. "I've been kinda distracted, okay?" he snapped irritably.
Karasuma bristled. "I'm only trying to help you," she retorted. "You called me and asked for it." And you need it, she added mentally. Between the stress from his outbursts and his ill-tempered exhaustion, the young hunter was in bad shape indeed-and so was she for having to put up with him. All the same, she forced herself to become gentle again, to slide back into the role of comforter he so obviously needed at this point. "I understand you're having a bad day," murmured the Hunter. "But you need to calm down and think about this. Stop acting-"
"-like an idiot?"
"So impulsively," amended Karasuma. "Though," she couldn't help but snipe a little herself, "you're doing that too."
Now it was his turn to bristle. "So that's all you think I am? An idiot who just keeps messing things up?" As his voice rose, the table rattled; Sakaki gripped his coffee mug with the same intensity as he had just minutes before. Except this time, it was out of ordinary human exasperation.
"No, Sakaki." Maintaining her own calm was all but impossible now. "I don't think you're an idiot," she said, reaching out to touch his hand with hers. As their skin made contact, a rush of emotions nearly overwhelmed her-fear, anger, unhappiness, uncertainty, plus that strange adrenal energy that was Sakaki's emotional signature-but she held her ground. "I think you need help and I know you need time to think through this. That's it."
He remained silent for several moments. And because she had nothing further to say, Karasuma did as well; there were only the sounds of the storm lashing against the windows and the faint tick of a distant clock to break this oppressive calm. Sakaki's face remained troubled, angry, and the emotions pooling in his hands filtered into hers as well. This was not the way she would have liked to spend her morning.
Quite suddenly, her cell phone rang. The two of them jumped in their seats, Karasuma quickly retracting her hand and Sakaki managing to bounce his cast painfully against the back of his chair. She fumbled in her breast pocket for her phone, eventually pulling out to where she could get a better look at it. Michael. Of course. "Hello?"
Sure enough, Michael's voice crackled over the communicator. "Hey Karasuma," he said amiably, though she could hear him yawning in between words. "Sorry to wake you up."
"You didn't." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sakaki squirming uncomfortably in his seat. "I assume you have a reason for calling me?"
"Yeah. Amon's calling an early meeting today. It's an emergency. Can you get in here by six?" He sounded almost apologetic about all of this.
"Six is fine. I'll be there." Pause, another glance at Sakaki. "Are you calling all of us this morning?"
"Pretty much. I've still got Haruto and Doujima left to call. Why?"
"I'll tell Sakaki," she responded. "So don't worry about it." She had a few more things to say to the rookie before he left tonight.
When Michael spoke again, he seemed pleasantly surprised at her offer. "Thanks. Helps me out a bunch, really. See ya at work." And with that, the conversation ended.
Which left her and Sakaki alone once again. "What was that about?" asked Sakaki, his brows furrowed both from leftover anger and confusion. "What are you gonna tell me?"
"We're having a meeting," explained Karasuma, getting slowly to her feet as she spoke. The coffee mugs she gathered in one hand; a second trip to the kitchen sink quickly disposed of them. Her movements were sluggish, however, as her mind moved all too quickly. There was something she had to do even if Sakaki would hate her for doing it.
For the moment, however, he was quite oblivious. Indeed, his spirits lifted at the possibility of going to work early-she almost envied that kind of naïve enthusiasm-and he made his way to the door so as to kneel and put his sneakers back on. "Great," he said. "I'm feeling good enough to take on a couple Witches with my bare hands-"
"You should stay home today."
Sakaki froze. As she watched his shoulders stiffen and his body tense, Karasuma fought back a twinge of guilt; she hated seeing him all crumpled like that, his face dark and his spirit crushed. "I'm sorry," she continued, drawing closer to to the young Hunter. "You're tired. And your Craft is still flaring up. It could get out of control again." Especially if Orbo really was the cause, she thought. Her dosage would be just as aggravating as his, right?
When he resumed tying his shoes, his motions were jerky and agitated, to the point where one of his shoelaces actually broke as he struggled with it. "You are saying I'm a moron," he muttered. "The village idiot who can't manage anything without a babysitter."
Damn it all, he was making things difficult. "No, I'm not," she repeated firmly. "I think you're quite capable. But not like this." Karasuma knelt beside her partner and settled her hand on his shoulder.
"So I'm just an invalid now," he retorted, shrugging away her gesture of friendship. "I'm not weak. I was having some trouble today but I'm fine now."
Despite his strong words, however, the teen was trembling with barely restrained exhaustion, and Karasuma knew it. To allow him to go on another Hunt today would be to condemn him to death; he'd come close enough to it today already. And if the Witches didn't get him… A cold current ran through her veins at the thought of having to Hunt down her own partner. "Sakaki." Pause. "Haruto. I need you to listen to me." She was almost pleading with him now. "I'm only trying to help you. Look," she continued, almost at the end of her patience by now, "if you stay home today, you can come back to work tomorrow. No questions asked."
Sakaki remained silent for a long while. "I'm not weak," he muttered. "I can take care of myself." With that, he all but glared up at her with his indigo-gray eyes. "Are you ordering me off the Hunt?"
They locked gazes for several long seconds, her tired yet firm expression countering his fearful defiance. How many times had she wished she had just ordered him to stay behind? How much less trauma would he have faced if she had actually listened to herself yesterday? It was a mistake she could not make twice, no matter how much it would hurt her partner. "Yes," she murmured softly. "I'm ordering you."
It was as if she had killed him. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting her to actually go through with the order; he stared up at her with his mouth agape before sliding back into sullen unhappiness. "Yes ma'am," muttered Sakaki. He stuttered to his feet in trembling, jerky movements, wrapping his coat awkwardly about his shoulders without giving her so much as a backward glance. "I'll be going then."
Somewhere high above them, a bolt of lightning thundered through the sky-and Karasuma remembered, belatedly, the raging thunderstorm that had been pounding against the apartment all morning. "Let me drive you, at least," she said. "It's pouring out there."
Wrong thing to say. Once again, the rookie stiffened uncomfortably, frozen by his own pride. "I'm not that weak," he muttered. "I can handle a little rain, dammit." Without waiting for her reply, he strode irritably out into the hallway and all but slammed the door behind him.
She stared at the door for a moment, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened. Well, fine. They were both tired and grumpy-they'd likely have fought on the way over anyway. "Best to leave it here," she said to herself, though her tone betrayed the otherwise confident words. With a quiet sigh, she returned to the kitchen table in search of her car keys.
And then she noticed the Orbo once again, its glimmering green a strange contrast with the wood. Michael will know what to do with it, she thought as she turned the vial over in her hands. We'll get this scanned and see what's wrong. It seemed normal, as far as she could tell; any unusual behavior had stopped once Sakaki removed the pendant. Almost automatically, she slid into her usual Craft trance she employed when scrying, now searching the vial for any indications of what might be wrong.
But there was nothing. The most she could get was a faint sense of Haruto, both within and without the tiny glass vial. Indeed, the fact that she could sense that was unusual, as most Orbo would block even the slightest psychic residue. It's just weak, she concluded. He was having a bad time and a little bad luck too.
As the clock chimed 5:30 AM, she had gathered all her supplies; by 5:40, she was gone.
Tokyo was a city that never slept. Not even the subway rested anymore; the midnight train was just as bustling and busy as the one at noon. Sakaki Haruto stood quietly, his right arm crooked awkwardly through one of the holding rings. It ached under all that plaster. Between the Witch's Craft and his own carelessness, he had probably injured it further; there were already long chips and scratches in the plaster itself.
He looked at it via its reflection in the window, allowing his gaze to absorb the pink lettering that Robin and Doujima had so lovingly provided. Guwaishi pesuto? he thought as he looked again at Robin's handwriting. Something like that. A long chip bisected the first word, transforming guarisci into something that looked like guai instead. Either way, the message was-
Waitaminute.
With a mental jerk, Sakaki fought back the overwhelming sense of déjà vu that had just assaulted him. The dream, he thought wearily. That goddamn dream. It was just enough of a coincidence to make him shiver where he stood. Fortunately for him, very few people opted to take the subway at 5:30 in the morning, and fewer still were awake enough to notice his discomfort. He'd be glad to get home and enjoy some real rest-
No. He wasn't glad, he reminded himself. How could he be when Karasuma didn't believe in him any more? Despite the more rational part of his brain telling him that hey, it was most likely concern that had driven her to do this, the overwhelming majority threatened to drown him with one single and painful statement. Karasuma didn't believe in him. And that hurt far more than he was willing to admit.
The subway screeched to a halt. He exited the car mechanically, his feet finding the way with very little input from his brain. At least one part was significantly different from his dream-he wasn't fighting his Craft for control any more. If anything, the cycling shudders had been lessening with each circuit, quelled by both the clean Orbo about his neck and the lack of…well, whatever had been driving it before. It still remained awake and alive within him, but it did not dominate his senses.
And for that Sakaki was grateful. It seemed to be the only bright spot in this early morning darkness. As soon as he stepped out of the subway station, he was greeted by a veritable wall of water-a violent downpour that had been continuing for two hours already and showed no signs of letting up. "Great," he grumbled. "Just what I need." He took off running through the rain-slicked streets, his hair slopping messily around his face and his cast bouncing painfully against his chest. Within seconds, he was utterly soaked.
Damn it all. The rain did nothing to improve his foul mood, save to give him the vaguest satisfaction of seeing his angst mirrored by the weather. He stumbled through the maelstrom of wind and water, occasionally so blinded by the storm that he had to duck into a doorway and clear his vision. "Should've taken her offer," he mumbled after he'd spent ten minutes playing at this game. "So goddamn wet." As lightning flashed across the sky, he risked another glance out into the veritable hurricane-and thank god, there was his apartment complex just up ahead. Not that much farther left to go.
Using his trenchcoat as a shield, the young Hunter plunged once again into the rain. It was all he could do to focus on taking one step at a time; his position made it difficult to see much at all, especially anything directly in front of him. Sakaki rounded the final corner to his apartment building, passed a long alleyway-
He never saw it coming. Someone's hand grabbed him by the front of his jacket, lifted him bodily-and then the world flew by in a haze of wetness and wind. By the time he realized that, hey, he was in the air and there was the wall coming up, and holyshitOW that was his head ringing hard against concrete. Dizzily, he looked up only to discover that he was now wedged uncomfortably between two trashcans.
And a huge figure now glowered over him. A vaguely familiar figure. "The hell?" he gasped, getting slowly to his feet. His feet slid beneath him, threatening to dump him right back into a mud puddle. "What was that for?"
The figure did not answer him. Instead, it reached out with one massive arm (the only massive arm, Sakaki realized; the other was merely a stump) and lifted him into the air. Rain blistered his face as his collar tightened inexorably, and he found himself fighting for every breath of air he could squeeze into his lungs. "Lemme…down…" he gasped, now fighting a wave of power that surged in the back of his head. Unlike his outbursts from this afternoon, however, they no longer burned with feverish intensity; the power felt clearer somehow, bright and flickering like a bolt of untapped lightning-
Apotheosis.
There was no other word for it. His consciousness seemed to balloon outwards, touching each individual raindrop and sensing, somehow, an intricate network between them. Somewhere above him, a broken lamp swung back and forth in the storm, as equally connected as the raindrops. And deep beneath his shirt, a single drop of blood stained the fibers of his shirt. All interwoven. All interconnected. And if he pushed just so, a ripple of energy spread outwards with a rush of breathless wind.
All this occurred in the space of a split second. A loud crack echoed in the alleyway, and then he was flying backwards once again-but so was his attacker, and Sakaki knew he'd much rather take another hit to the head than be choked to death. Fortunately for him, he'd landed near the exit to the alleyway. His boots slid dangerously in the mud, nearly sending him right back down again, but he managed to support himself against the wall via his cast. Got to…get out of here… he thought, mentally winded by the use of his Craft. Out…of here…
CRACK.
Just as he reached the exit, runes flickered into life and sent a barrier of pure electricity across the alley. Whatever good luck had triggered his Craft failed him now; he stumbled and fell headlong into the electrified force field. "Holy-ahh!" Pain forced him onto his knees, and for a moment he forgot the driving rain in favor of simply crouching in the mud. Ow. Sonuvabitch.
"Careful there," came a new voice. Female? Sakaki looked up-and saw what he could have sworn was a distorted reflection of himself. Brown hair: check. Gawky, clumsy frame: check. If not for the breasts (and he was pretty damn sure he hadn't changed gender in the past two seconds), they might have been identical. Which meant-one of many not-so-comfortable things, he was certain. If only his electricity-fried brain would stop spazzing out on him.
Even as he huddled and tried to beat his brain into submission, the woman approached him. She lifted his chin with one hand, staring firmly at him; then, quite unceremoniously, she dropped him. Back into the mud he went. "Haruto," she said. "I thought so. We're sorry to do this to you, we really are."
"…" It seemed the taller Witch disagreed with the girl. He fixed the Hunter with a sharp glare, his one hand clenching into a fist. Even his fuzzy observation skills could pick up on that gesture.
The female Witch sighed. "Maybe not. But we don't intend to kill you, at least. Won't you cooperate with us?" she continued, extending one hand towards him.
"C-cooperate? No way." He slid away from her-right into the field again, god damn it-and crumpled once more against the ground. By now his thoughts felt fuzzy and unfocused, barely capable of making any coherent decisions. Karasuma. Help. Pain. Karasuma, please. His thoughts sank into the ground like water. Need…help. Karasuma. Karasuma. Clumsily, Sakaki managed to reach into his coat pocket and drew out his cell phone. Personal code-dammit, what's her personal code-
The world whirled again. His legs dangled and his face turned up towards the rain once more. "No cooperation?" continued the voice. "Really sorry, then. Knock him out."
His head met concrete once again. Light flared behind his eyelids and more pain jolted through his body-but the worst part was the fact that he could no longer maintain his grip on anything, and thus could only watch as his cell phone tumbled into the mud. Orbo-flaring in his face as another hit rocked his skull-supposed to be helping him-
Mud. In his face, along his arm that stretched in futility. Cell phone just fingertips away. Him struggling to reach, dammit, but it fell away from him, fell down as a rough hand pulled him up and settled him down again. Too high in the air. Rain prickling the back of his neck, cast bouncing lightly in time with someone's stride. Being carried? No, he managed. Kidnapped. Holy hell, I'm being kidnapped.
Copper in his mouth. Someone wiping at it for him, fixing him with her indigo-gray eyes. "Really sorry," she said again. Swaying, moving-the alley falling behind. And beyond that he thought he saw Karasuma's car, passing by his apartment on the way to work. "We'll make it up to you," continued the voice. Heavy, distant. As if falling asleep. And then-a light touch, like affection. "Welcome back, brother."
Darkness.
END OF PART ONE
A/N: Bet you thought I'd never update again, eh? Well, I know it's taken me plenty long enough. Least it's worth the wait, yes? Hopefully. Anyhoo, I'm sure a lot of you are wondering what that "End of Part One" thing means. Basically? Not much at all. I'll continue to post at this location with new chapters, so you don't have to move your bookmarks or your Author Alerts. But this does mark the end of an arc, so to speak. I envision this story as being a three episode OAV type deal, with seven (give or take) chapters in each "episode." Hence this chapter marks the end of "Episode One." Good? Great.
Also, since this marks the end of the first episode…if you leave your email address in a review for this chapter, I promise that I will email you back with answers to any questions, comments on ideas, or even just a simple thank you for you taking the time to review. So ask away! As long as you haven't uncovered a spoiler, I'll definitely clue you in on what's going on.
Finally, I'd like to give a big THANK YOU to all of those who reviewed even during this huge hiatus. Nothing rekindles my creative spirit like a good, critical review on a fic I thought that everyone had forgotten. (Tylec Asroc, I'm lookin' at you.) Trust me, your encouragement has not fallen upon deaf ears. (Or blind eyes, I suppose would be the better epithet.)
Anyway, that's all the babbling I want to do right now. If you'd like to read extended A/N, either check out my LJ (zinthos) or the nummy WHR fic comm (confraria) over on I'll be posting more specific links later, but for now, teh LJ is teh place to be.
Once again, thank you for all the support and reviews you have given me. And-this is going to sound shallow, but-I'm incredibly excited to see how close to the one hundred mark this fic is in terms of reviews. So I'm going to offer a kiriban drabble to whoever posts review numbah one hundred. Pick a pairing/character, situation, anything, and I shall write you a one hundred word drabble about it.
Until next update,
Manny PenPen
