Disclaimer: PoT is not mine. I'm merely playing with the characters.

Thank you everybody for the wonderful reviews. They make writing twice as much fun!

Vhii1217: Thank you very much. Tezuka is going to have some further trouble with situation, and right now Fuji is rather unable to help him with it. But as for how it'll all turn out – since I have quite some more chapters planned, nothing permanent should happen too soon. XD

Viri9ian FuraMashi: I'm glad I managed to convey the emotions in the chapter as I had hoped to – and now I shall hope that skill extends to future chapters as well. Thank you very much for reading!

PWNsomeness: Thank you very much. Mistake is duly noted (thanks for pointing it out) and shall be fixed the moment I find some time to learn how to do edits on ffnet without replacing an entire chapter XD

Koshi Sekisen: Glad the timing for posting the last chapter fit so nicely. I'll keep my fingers crossed that happens again XD. Anyhow, Mori turned out a bit different from what I originally intended – she was supposed to be more temperamental and angry. But simply not caring suits her a bit better, methinks. Tezuka and Fuji might feel differently about this – though for now they have other problems *evil laughter*

And a big thank you to Chrysalis441, mjadzia, eternal fire123, LessThanThree and Nitrea.

Ten

Tezuka's breath caught. Metal glittered menacingly in the sunlight filtering into the library, and the smile on Mori's face made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

"What?" he asked, a part of his mind fretfully insisting he had misheard.

"Your arm," Mori repeated and her voice drowned out the pounding of his heart. Involuntarily his eyes slid over to Fuji, still lying motionless in the armchair, his face white against the dark fabric.

Mori stepped forward and raised the knife.

Tezuka flinched when cold hands grasped his right arm, pulled back the sleeve of his jacket – he wanted to draw a deep breath, steel himself – but the knife was already cutting through his shirt and skin at the same time.

For a split second he felt nothing.

Then pain seared up his arm. He gasped, wanting to curl up, but Mori's grip on his arm didn't allow for any movement on his part. His nerve endings were on fire, his heart was racing and all conscious thought fled from his brain. Mori never paid any mind to his struggles; she calmly proceeded to drag the knife down until she had made a cut from his elbow to the wrist.

Carelessly she tossed the knife aside and looked down at her handiwork. Blood flowed freely from the cut, running down her own hand and soaking Tezuka's white shirt, but she turned her attention back to the wooden box on the floor beside him.

Tezuka dared to open his eyes once he heard the knife clatter to the floor. He caught sight of the blood-stained metal edge and his stomach twisted. Dizziness rose and his arm burned, yet he forced himself to look at the damage.

His mind started clearing, even though his heart was racing and slowly he turned his head up to survey the damage. The cut bled profusely, but - and for a moment the confusion overshadowed the pain - it wasn't fatal.

Mori had made a long, shallow cut on the outside of his right arm.

Tezuka blinked. Mori caught his gaze and for a moment turned her attention away from the box.

"Is this really so surprising?" She asked lightly, amusement playing on her face. "Just think about it: it'd be rather stupid to kill you when your blood could be put to other uses as well."

He froze. Up close he could see the cold glee sparkling in her eyes - those were so different from the original Mori's. There was no warmth to be found in those dark pupils and her face seemed morphed, wrinkles smoothed over and it was as if Tezuka was looking at a far younger face underneath a mask.

Then a hand touched his arm, icy fingers dragging over the cut and he strangled a scream. White stars exploded in front of his eyes, he dropped limply to the floor as Mori let go of him, both of her hands red with blood.

The room was spinning, even though he felt the rough fabric of the carpet scratching his cheek. Gasping for breath he watched her turn away, bend down and lift up the box, then she stepped away and all he could see were her shoes.

He couldn't hear anything over the pounding in his ears, felt unable to move a single finger and yet in the back of his mind, a panicky voice urged him to move. This thing had won, had about gotten what it wanted – even if Tezuka could only guess at what this would result in within his deepest nightmares.

And he hadn't heard a single sound from Fuji in the last minutes.

He ought to run as long as her back was turned. The cut wasn't fatal; he shouldn't let the pain incapacitate himself. Not if their lives were on the line.

Something in the corner of his eye moved.

Tezuka jerked his head up, only to witness Mori dumping the box on the writing desk, muttering incomprehensible words. A loose page at his side abruptly took to the air and fluttered back down a few paces farer away.

His breath hitched.

Mori was chanting, her voice steadily growing in volume, something started rattling. Tezuka's eyes widened; a book dropped from the shelf, another opened, papers rose as if caught in a breeze.

An ice-cold shudder ran down his spine.

The quality of the sunlight outside changed. His heart pounded as he tried to push himself up; his vision faded in and out while the room descended into chaos. A table fell over, books clattered to the floor and a hurricane of loose pages floated whirled through tension-filled air.

His mind was numb with disbelief, mesmerized by the mind-wrenching scene playing out in front of his eyes. No matter how many things he had already seen today, this belittled them all. The air cracked with invisible energy, tingled his skin, and he forgot to breathe when Mori brought her hands down in an extensive gesture.

A clap echoed through the room, just as an invisible backlash threw Tezuka back to the ground.

Stars exploded in front of his eyes, paper fluttered to the ground beside him, something crashed to the floor and he heard Mori chuckle.

"Oh dear," She laughed and her voice sounded completely different from before. This wasn't the voice he'd heard over the phone; this voice sounded richer and far younger, even if the inflection remained the same.

Swallowing down the dread obstructing his throat, Tezuka lifted his head.

Mori stood with her back to him, the shattered remains of the box in front of her. As her laughter died down she turned back to Tezuka and the cold gleam in her eyes made his blood run cold.

"I have to admit, I'm impressed," She cheerfully announced and started walking towards him, "Somebody obviously did know what he was doing here."

Tezuka tried to back away, but he couldn't move. She stopped in front of him and he saw anger burning behind the smile.

"That box was empty. That means you spilled all your pretty blood for nothing."

Tezuka blanched. Mori straightened her features, her eyes never leaving Tezuka's face.

"Now, you wouldn't happen to know where the thing that was supposed to be in there is?" she leaned forward, studying Tezuka's face closely. "Thought so. But I think you do know where the people who hid it are."

The little blood that had remained in his face drained away. Ice crawled through his veins, freezing his heart as panic filled his mind and he blindly opened his mouth.

"They donated many objects to the Tokyo National Museum. Maybe that object has also been …"

The knife reappeared in her hand faster than he could blink. Cold metal touched his throat and he stopped talking, starring at her with wide eyes. Mori's lips twitched.

"I didn't ask you where you think the object might have ended up," she said, "I was asking where the people who hid it went."

Tezuka swallowed. The knife started digging uncomfortably into the skin of his throat.

"If those people knew what they had in their possession, they'd never have given it to any sort of museum, boy. So save your breath and tell me where they are."

His mind was racing.

Mori's patience was running out. "Tell me before I do something I…"

"New Zealand." A new voice rasped, breaking the tense air.

Both Mori and Tezuka turned to see Fuji watching them through half-lidded eyes, still slumped in the chair. He was breathing fast and shallow and speaking was an obvious effort, yet Fuji tried to move his stiff lips.

"They … left for … New Zealand."

Mori raised an eyebrow. Almost unconsciously she removed the knife from Tezuka's throat and stood, her eyes fixed on Fuji's face.

"Interesting," she muttered and Tezuka forced himself to draw a deep breath. His head spun, fear obstructed his lungs even after the threat had been removed. He was barely capable of forming a clear thought, torn between disbelief at the events in front of his eyes and panic at what might happen next.

With barely a glance back she walked over to the window and pushed it open, not even flinching in the slightest as a gust of icy air flooded the room.

"I guess this concludes our little excursion today," she told them, "Try to stay alive though, I might have some other use for you in the future."

And without even a sound she disappeared.

It took Tezuka a few moments to gather his senses enough to sit up. The pain had receded to a dull throbbing and the cut had already started healing – though fresh blood still trickled down his arm. His head was pounding and he wasn't certain if it was due to blood-loss or due to confusion.

Warily he gazed from his injury to the carpet and back. He shouldn't have lost too much blood, but he was bad at judging, and the red puddle that was spreading over the carpet made him nauseous.

"…zuka."

For a moment he completely forgot everything.

He turned around and his wide-eyed gaze met Fuji's. His friend was moving, agonizingly slow, pulling the blanket a little closer to his chest with a limb that was as ashen as his face.

"Fuji," Tezuka stood abruptly, "Are you…"

He stumbled as vertigo assaulted him. His vision faded to black, he couldn't tell up from down and desperately reached out for something to catch hold of. In the end he tumbled into one of the book shelves, protectively cradling his right arm to his chest to prevent further damage and stayed still until his heart had stopped racing.

Fuji was watching him worriedly, made to disentangle himself from the blanket.

Tezuka's legs were trembling and he knew he ought to sit down unless he wanted to faint within the next minute. He closed his eyes, blocked out his tumultuous thoughts and tried to concentrate on breathing.

"I'll be alright in a moment," he told Fuji.

His friend responded with a nod and reluctantly leaned back. While his limbs had finally started thawing, he could only barely move them. His hands and feet still were utterly numb and even his cheeks refused to cooperate without aching fiercely in protest.

Tezuka managed to steady himself enough to stagger over and sink down on an armrest of Fuji's armchair. He glanced down at his friend, trying to organize his thoughts. One part of his mind was screaming at him he ought to somehow warn the Nakayamas, though he had yet to conceive a way that didn't make him sound utterly insane.

But first of all, he needed to take care of Fuji. Amid the chaos left in Mori's wake, he had had no time to address the direness of Fuji's situation – he hadn't even had time to pay much mind to anything.

Luck had been on their side, seeing as Fuji hadn't passed away while Mori had been busy cutting up Tezuka's arm. It had been a close call and Tezuka wasn't sure if he judged the situation correctly, but for now it seemed as if Fuji was doing a little better than before.

Still…

Maybe it was just the relief he felt at Mori's disappearance that made him underestimate the seriousness of Fuji's condition.

"We … you should get out of those clothes." He frowned. "Maybe a bath…"

"Yes. … And you … that cut…" Fuji's voice was slurred.

"I'll take care of it." Tezuka promised and stood up.

He drew a deep breath before he reached for Fuji. His friend tried his best to help him navigate to the bathroom, but he could hardly move his limbs and had trouble staying upright. Tezuka's body protested the strain and more than once he had to shake his head in an attempt to clear his vision.

It bordered on a miracle that they made it down the staircase and into the bathroom without accident. Tezuka gently sat Fuji down on the tiled floor before turning the heater up and starting a hot bath.

With a sigh he bent down and reached out to peel Fuji out of his soaked clothes, while Fuji carefully rested his frozen hand on Tezuka's right arm. Worriedly he eyed the cut, taking in the blood-soaked sleeve and Tezuka's pale face.

"Does it…?"

"It's okay." Tezuka answered. "It's not that deep and it has already stopped bleeding. I'll bandage it in a minute."

He took care to remove Fuji's clothing slowly and without making his friend move too much. Within minutes of contact with the wet, icy clothes his own hands started growing numb and he could only guess at how Fuji had to feel.

When he had Fuji stripped down to his boxers, Tezuka stopped. He tested the water with his left hand and found it warm rather than hot, though seeing how cold Fuji's limbs were, that probably wasn't such a bad thing.

If he had to be honest with himself, it probably was a miracle that Fuji was alive and coherent with everything that had happened within the last hours. A glance at the digital clock placed above the bathroom mirror revealed that is wasn't even much past noon, but to him it felt like years had passed since he had left his classroom.

Tension had begun to drain from his body and the warm tiles under his feet chased away the icy horror that had held him captive. He still couldn't make sense of the events – yet for now the knowledge that they were safe was enough.

"Is the temperature okay?" Tezuka inquired as he helped Fuji to settle in the tub.

His friend managed a strained smile.

"It is, I think." He averted his gaze. "I … don't really feel it."

Tezuka pressed his lips together. Maybe he should have risked the spirit's wrath earlier and insisted to at least change Fuji's clothes completely. Frozen limbs … he had heard many dreadful stories.

"I'll call an ambulance," He announced.

Fuji shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I'll … I think I'll be alright."

"But…"

"No. I'm already … feeling a little less … like an icicle," Fuji caught his eyes and while his voice remained shaky, his eyes were clear. "You need to warn … them."

Tezuka frowned. What could he tell the Nakayamas to warn them without sounding out of his mind? How to tell them their library had been practically wrecked?

"Or let me … talk to them," Fuji added, letting himself slide a little deeper into the water. "Though… that cut…"

With a nod Tezuka opened the little cabinet and found a small emergency kit without having to search. The remains of his shirt had started sticking to his skin as the blood dried and the sensation made him uncomfortable.

He dropped down on the side of the tub and started tugging his shirt away from the wound.

"Do you think they are in immediate danger?" He inquired to take his mind of the dull burn in his arm. Slowly the hurricane in his mind was beginning to settle, but the confusion remained.

"…no," Fuji whispered. "…the spirit … might not find them… so soon."

Tezuka heard his friend's voice hitch and glanced over to find Fuji curled up, his hair touching the water and his face hidden from view.

"Fuji?" He asked as dread spread through his mind.

"I'm okay," his friend answered, sounding strained. "It just …my hands … hurt like hell."

In spite of himself Tezuka let go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"I see," he replied.

When he'd been small, he'd once made the mistake of sticking his hand into the water of a lake that had just started freezing over. He had been curious about how cold the water felt – and at first, he'd been rather unimpressed. However, when circulation was restored to his fingers thirty minutes later he'd had a hard time trying not to scream.

"It'll probably stop hurting in a couple of minutes," he told Fuji.

"Great."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow at the sarcasm colouring his friend's voice. Inside a burden lifted from his shoulders as a fragment of normality restored itself to their bizarre situation.

He eyed the roll of bandage as he contemplated whether this was the right time to ask the questions wrecking havoc on his mind. And while some probably weren't even important and to others he dreaded the answer – there were those that had his heart miss a beat.

"Fuji," he began tentatively and kept an eye on Fuji's hunched shoulders as he started wrapping his arm. "Is this … over now?"

Fuji sighed, tried to flex his fingers and grimaced. "… I don't know."

Tezuka remained silent and Fuji continued. "It might be … over for us. That … thing … might not need us anymore. But …"

The spirit's parting words had implied something else.

"…I think it will come back."

"Why?" Tezuka asked and forced his voice to stay even. "Whatever it was looking for, it wasn't even here."

Instead of meeting his gaze, Fuji glanced away. "You wouldn't know what … used to be inside that box?"

Tezuka tried to finish the bandage on his arm, but it proved difficult to manage with one hand. "No," he replied to Fuji's question, "I don't think I've ever seen that box before."

"Sure? Come over, I'll finish that for you."

Tezuka crossed the small distance and held his arm out. Fuji smiled at him.

"I can move my fingers," he proudly announced and finished the bandages at a snail's pace. Tezuka kept his lips firmly shut.

He'd probably have done a better job finishing it himself with one hand, but right now he was rather happy to see Fuji getting better. Colour had returned to Fuji's lips and while his face remained pale, he no longer looked like the living dead.

"Anyways," Fuji eventually said with a small sigh, "I think … you probably saw whatever was inside the box. It might have been years ago, but …"

He smiled unhappily. "Whatever was protecting the box probably worked in way similar to the wards. And it could be broken using your blood."

Tezuka frowned, thoughtfully gazing down at his arm. The puzzle pieces in his head still refused to fit together.

"I hope I'm wrong." Fuji grimaced. "Though once that spirit finds what it's looking for, it'll probably be back for you."

Then he glanced up and his eyes met Tezuka's.

"And unless we know what it is looking for, we won't know what will happen the next time this spirit appears."

tbc

Thank you very much for reading. Please feel free to point out any mistakes or share your opinion. ^_^