"I'm Him?" - continued from 9
PART XI: Death?
~ ~ ~
It's like I'm watching a movie...of my own death.
Tasuki and Hotohori are leaning over my still, broken body, the fiery-haired bandit struggling vainly to stem the flow of blood.
"I'll call an ambulance," Hotohori says evenly...but, I can hear the anxiety in his voice, the fear. It's because...because he knows I'm going to die. He knows it...just as I know it. The young emperor rises to his feet, looking strangely normal with his loose-fitting dress shirt and slacks, thick chestnut hair falling in soft waves over his shoulders. His hands and sleeves are stained with blood...my blood...but, he doesn't even seem to notice it. Carefully, he picks his way across the cracked, blackened floor, stretches up a slim hand, and grabs onto the phone. He holds it to his ear, reaches for the base...but stops, frowning...
"Damn it," he swears softly. "It's dead. The fire...it must've--"
"It doesn't @#(*$&@#$ matter!" Tasuki shouts, glancing frantically around the small shop as if hunting for inspiration among the charred flowers. "Damn it...damn-damn-damn it...you're not @#$(*&$ gonna do this to me again, Nuriko...you're not @#(*$ gonna do this again..."
The warning hanging weakly from lips, Tasuki rises with some difficulty to his feet, leaves me lying cold and alone on the floor...and for a moment, all I can see is my own face, my own shattered body...my own flowing blood. I'm lying on my back on the floor, arms resting loosely at my sides, the weights of Taiitsu-kun's bracelets still clasped tightly on my wrists. There's a thick, angry mark of black and oozing red strewn messily across my chest--my flat, very male chest...and, the soft blue of my shirt is ripped and hanging loose from my shoulders, soaked thoroughly with a warm, wet crimson. My hair, a darker, thicker brown than Hotohori's, still lies plaited and folded into its typical braid...but, the ends are wet and sticky with blood, and faint wisps of hair hang loosely about my face, contrasting starkly with my smooth, pallid skin...gods. I'm dying...aren't I?
"We gotta @#$*(&@#$ do somethin'," Tasuki exclaims, stalking angrily from one side of the room to the other. "This isn't @#($*&$ gonna happen again...it's NOT GONNA HAPPEN AGAIN!"
Hotohori casts the red-haired bandit a look of pure anguish, shakes his head slowly. "But, what can we do?" he asks quietly. "What can we do? The bleeding--"
Suddenly, the door slams open, cuts him off mid-sentence. "What's going on in here?" demands a deep, authoritative voice.
Tasuki and Hotohori turn, eyes wide and hopeful, and stare at the darkened figure at the door. There's a short pause...and, then the figure steps forward, moves into the light and holds up a badge.
"Nick Mansfield, City Police Department," he states evenly, glancing briefly from the two seishi to the charred line across the room to my own small, broken body. He's tall and broad-shouldered, towering even above Hotohori...and, his dark hair is short and cropped in an almost military style on his head, his eyes dark and narrowed as he surveys the scene. As his gaze falls onto me, however, his eyes soften...and he strides forward, kneels down beside me.
All of a sudden, his eyes are wide and haunted. "There's something...something familiar..." He shakes his head firmly, trails off...but, the haunted look still lingers in his eyes. He turns back to Hotohori and Tasuki, casts a stern eye on them. "What happened here? The call we received said someone had broken into this shop and was posing a threat of some kind..." His eyes narrow. "Surely, this wasn't the man..."
Hotohori shakes his head hurriedly. "No, no. The man..." He trails off, sighs softly. "The man got away. But...but, please, you have to call an ambulance. There isn't much time..."
"You're damn right there ain't much time!" Tasuki cries, glaring angrily at the two taller men. "What the @#($*&$'s wrong with you two?! You gonna @#(*&@ let Nuriko die AGAIN, damn it!? DO SOMETHING!"
Mansfield's eyes go wide...and his shoulders slump, his eyes close tightly. "A...Again," he whispers brokenly. "Last time...last time...I didn't...didn't get there in time...couldn't save him..."
"Good God," Tasuki whispers. He lunges forward then, grabs the man by the shoulders and shakes him. "It's you!" he cries. "It's you...damn it, it's you! You gotta do somethin'! You gotta help him before it's too late!"
Mansfield shakes his head sadly, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, a thin line of anguish streaking up through his brow. "I...I don't know how...I don't know what I can...what I can do..."
"YES, YOU DO, DAMN IT!" the fiery-haired bandit shrieks, shaking the man again by his broad, thick shoulders. "DAMN YOU! DO IT!" He pauses, waits for a response...then, leaps to his feet in a wild rage, screams, "DO IT, MITSUKAKE, OR I'll NEVER @#(*&@#$ FORGIVE YOU!!"
Those dark eyes fly open...and abruptly, a flicker of something like memory flashes into them, washes over that smooth, chiseled face. Mitsukake nods firmly, casts Tasuki a thankful look of reassurance, and presses his left hand firmly against my chest. Then, the world fills with a soft, vibrant glow of green light...and, I feel the pain shrinking back, the darkness being pulled from my vision, the suffocating warmth draining from my lungs...
A surge of fresh, clean air rushes down my throat, makes me arch my back in sudden, violent ressurrection...and I feel the slowing timbre of my heartbeat speed up again, grow louder and heavier and stronger. The strength is rushing back to my muscles, the blood seeping back into my veins...I'm...I'm going to live...aren't I?
I'm going to live.
I'm going to...live.
---
PART XI: Death?
~ ~ ~
It's like I'm watching a movie...of my own death.
Tasuki and Hotohori are leaning over my still, broken body, the fiery-haired bandit struggling vainly to stem the flow of blood.
"I'll call an ambulance," Hotohori says evenly...but, I can hear the anxiety in his voice, the fear. It's because...because he knows I'm going to die. He knows it...just as I know it. The young emperor rises to his feet, looking strangely normal with his loose-fitting dress shirt and slacks, thick chestnut hair falling in soft waves over his shoulders. His hands and sleeves are stained with blood...my blood...but, he doesn't even seem to notice it. Carefully, he picks his way across the cracked, blackened floor, stretches up a slim hand, and grabs onto the phone. He holds it to his ear, reaches for the base...but stops, frowning...
"Damn it," he swears softly. "It's dead. The fire...it must've--"
"It doesn't @#(*$&@#$ matter!" Tasuki shouts, glancing frantically around the small shop as if hunting for inspiration among the charred flowers. "Damn it...damn-damn-damn it...you're not @#$(*&$ gonna do this to me again, Nuriko...you're not @#(*$ gonna do this again..."
The warning hanging weakly from lips, Tasuki rises with some difficulty to his feet, leaves me lying cold and alone on the floor...and for a moment, all I can see is my own face, my own shattered body...my own flowing blood. I'm lying on my back on the floor, arms resting loosely at my sides, the weights of Taiitsu-kun's bracelets still clasped tightly on my wrists. There's a thick, angry mark of black and oozing red strewn messily across my chest--my flat, very male chest...and, the soft blue of my shirt is ripped and hanging loose from my shoulders, soaked thoroughly with a warm, wet crimson. My hair, a darker, thicker brown than Hotohori's, still lies plaited and folded into its typical braid...but, the ends are wet and sticky with blood, and faint wisps of hair hang loosely about my face, contrasting starkly with my smooth, pallid skin...gods. I'm dying...aren't I?
"We gotta @#$*(&@#$ do somethin'," Tasuki exclaims, stalking angrily from one side of the room to the other. "This isn't @#($*&$ gonna happen again...it's NOT GONNA HAPPEN AGAIN!"
Hotohori casts the red-haired bandit a look of pure anguish, shakes his head slowly. "But, what can we do?" he asks quietly. "What can we do? The bleeding--"
Suddenly, the door slams open, cuts him off mid-sentence. "What's going on in here?" demands a deep, authoritative voice.
Tasuki and Hotohori turn, eyes wide and hopeful, and stare at the darkened figure at the door. There's a short pause...and, then the figure steps forward, moves into the light and holds up a badge.
"Nick Mansfield, City Police Department," he states evenly, glancing briefly from the two seishi to the charred line across the room to my own small, broken body. He's tall and broad-shouldered, towering even above Hotohori...and, his dark hair is short and cropped in an almost military style on his head, his eyes dark and narrowed as he surveys the scene. As his gaze falls onto me, however, his eyes soften...and he strides forward, kneels down beside me.
All of a sudden, his eyes are wide and haunted. "There's something...something familiar..." He shakes his head firmly, trails off...but, the haunted look still lingers in his eyes. He turns back to Hotohori and Tasuki, casts a stern eye on them. "What happened here? The call we received said someone had broken into this shop and was posing a threat of some kind..." His eyes narrow. "Surely, this wasn't the man..."
Hotohori shakes his head hurriedly. "No, no. The man..." He trails off, sighs softly. "The man got away. But...but, please, you have to call an ambulance. There isn't much time..."
"You're damn right there ain't much time!" Tasuki cries, glaring angrily at the two taller men. "What the @#($*&$'s wrong with you two?! You gonna @#(*&@ let Nuriko die AGAIN, damn it!? DO SOMETHING!"
Mansfield's eyes go wide...and his shoulders slump, his eyes close tightly. "A...Again," he whispers brokenly. "Last time...last time...I didn't...didn't get there in time...couldn't save him..."
"Good God," Tasuki whispers. He lunges forward then, grabs the man by the shoulders and shakes him. "It's you!" he cries. "It's you...damn it, it's you! You gotta do somethin'! You gotta help him before it's too late!"
Mansfield shakes his head sadly, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, a thin line of anguish streaking up through his brow. "I...I don't know how...I don't know what I can...what I can do..."
"YES, YOU DO, DAMN IT!" the fiery-haired bandit shrieks, shaking the man again by his broad, thick shoulders. "DAMN YOU! DO IT!" He pauses, waits for a response...then, leaps to his feet in a wild rage, screams, "DO IT, MITSUKAKE, OR I'll NEVER @#(*&@#$ FORGIVE YOU!!"
Those dark eyes fly open...and abruptly, a flicker of something like memory flashes into them, washes over that smooth, chiseled face. Mitsukake nods firmly, casts Tasuki a thankful look of reassurance, and presses his left hand firmly against my chest. Then, the world fills with a soft, vibrant glow of green light...and, I feel the pain shrinking back, the darkness being pulled from my vision, the suffocating warmth draining from my lungs...
A surge of fresh, clean air rushes down my throat, makes me arch my back in sudden, violent ressurrection...and I feel the slowing timbre of my heartbeat speed up again, grow louder and heavier and stronger. The strength is rushing back to my muscles, the blood seeping back into my veins...I'm...I'm going to live...aren't I?
I'm going to live.
I'm going to...live.
---