Please read Disclaimer in Chapter One.
Title: The Book of Cat With Moon C11: "You're dead!"
Author: JaganshiKenshin
Genre: General, Suspense
Rating: K/PG-13
Summary: Alone, wounded, Kaitou Yuu faces his doom-but the enemy plans something far worse.
A/N: As always, I thank you for reading this, and I appreciate your reviews!
"Care to write your own epitaph?"
The Book Of Cat With Moon (C11: "You're Dead!")
by
Kenshin
You're dead, Kaitou.
Kaitou Yuu braced his back against the door.
If not for the door's solidity, he would have fallen.
Across the roof, seen through Kaitou's cracked lenses, a distorted Hiroshi Ukyou watched in brooding silence. The glass dragonfly hovered at his shoulder.
Kaitou almost wanted him to get on with it, to launch the final attack. Anything was better than this limbo.
Hiei-tough as he is-gone. I'm next.
Then he thought that Hiei might not have died on impact.
Was Hiei even now lying in agony on the pavement, aware but unable to move, listening for the approach of death?
Kaitou barely had time to frame the thought when Hiroshi flicked a casual finger. The glass dragonfly flew, struck Kaitou's right shoulder, yanked itself free again. Kaitou's throat constricted in pain; he could not even cry out.
The dragonfly returned to its master. A drop of blood clung quivering to its needle-pointed 'head.' "Good little dragonfly." Hiroshi bared his teeth in a schoolboy smile. "I shall keep you as a souvenir."
Curling his right hand, Hiroshi gathered a dozen more wicked shards. "Lovely, aren't they? Enjoy the sight. It's the last you will savor in this world."
Kaitou's eyes watered. He blinked it away.
A soft rain began again, the sky weeping along with Kaitou. The moon rode clear and cold above it all.
"Farewell!" Hiroshi clenched both fists. Then, opening them as though flicking dust from his fingers, he hurled the glass straight for Kaitou's eyes.
With no resources or strength left, sunk deep in despair, Kaitou could not even turn away.
But at the last instant, with an outward sweep of both hands, Hiroshi diverted the shards. They slammed against the door to either side of Kaitou's head, splintering on impact.
"At least cry out!" This time Hiroshi's bared teeth resembled nothing in the way of a smile. He strove to calm himself, straightening both jacket and tie, raking a hand through his hair. "Your stupidity has robbed me of the life I should have had! At least give me the satisfaction of-" He broke off, struggling to arrange his features into their familiar mask of ennui, finally succeeding.
"Plead with me, can't you?" Hiroshi spoke again as the arch, bored sophisticate. "I would enjoy that. Poor dear Pater never had a chance, of course, never knew what hit him. The Velvet Dragon knew, all right, oh, she knew what was happening and who had orchestrated it!"
He wiped his mouth as though spittle had formed. "But she denied me to the last, the ruthless bitch. A pity. She pleaded, of course, but not for herself. Can you imagine? For me to seek help. As though I were sub-normal, when indeed I am super-normal. Or would that be supra-normal? You'd know the correct word, wouldn't you, senpai?"
As Hiroshi went on, Kaitou struggled to find an icon of courage. A song popped into his head, an older song from a nearly-forgotten artist. Seen one way, innocent. Seen another, blasphemous. I don't know why I thought that just now-Lott Wingard and her spooky lyrics.
Courage. Think of someone to protect.
And then of course he did.
Miss Michiko.
Pressed against the door, Kaitou stared with frosty contempt at Hiroshi Ukyou.
Perhaps the half-demon had run out of patience. Perhaps battling Hiei had drained him. For whatever reason, Hiroshi's world-weary composure kept slipping away. "Stop looking at me like that!"
He wants something, Kaitou thought. To hear me beg-or something more? I may be reduced to just this, but if not giving in is all I have-
"Come, senpai." With jerky movements, Hiroshi extracted another cigarette, touched a lighter to its tip, and pulled smoke deep into his lungs. "I'm giving you the chance to write your own epitaph!" Each exhalation rode on dragon-curls of smoke.
Defiant, Kaitou held the other man's gaze. His legs were not as valiant; they shook like jelly, and he again slid to the wet asphalt.
But in falling, he had cleared a pathway, had changed the angle of his perspective. He could now see what had been hidden from view when he'd been standing on his own two feet.
Behind Hiroshi, perched on the safety railing, was the cat.
The cat. The cat of the park.
Extraordinarily, viewed through the spiderweb of Kaitou's cracked lenses, the cat appeared whole, perfect.
Dandelion-thick gray fur, untouched by rain. Copper eyes in a flattish face. Undoubtedly a Persian. It looked down at him, its piercing gaze locked onto his, aware, intent.
Hiroshi was oblivious to the animal's presence. He stood panting, obscuring the air with his rage.
Still the cat watched Kaitou.
Hiroshi was saying something. Kaitou was not listening.
The cat looked almost as if it was smiling: eyes slowly slitting, the corners of its mouth curling up.
A faint, eerie music threaded the air. No. Not eerie: ethereal. Otherworldly. Silvered chords rising and falling like a dance of the sea.
Dreamlike, yet not a dream, the cat's footfalls struck separate, shutter-frozen images of itself, of the park, a series of photos, blanching color from the world, dazzling Kaitou with black and white clarity.
Flash, flash, flash, the cat came on.
Kaitou could smell bruised grass beneath the cat's long-ago paw-tread, a scent like liquid emeralds, refreshing him. The scent was real, past intruding on present, time turned fluid.
Here was something to grasp.
This is no mere cat.
Hiroshi's lips stopped moving. He raised his head, sniffing the air, puzzled, but did not turn.
This cat-back then in the park. With its animal instincts, wiser than Kaitou, it had trotted up to Hiei, demonstrating that Hiei meant no harm.
What was this cat? Guardian or vision? Mascot or magic? Seeking an icon of courage, Kaitou had found it in the form of an animal clad with dandelion fur.
When an insistent, petulant voice claimed his attention, Kaitou glanced at the source: Hiroshi, his lips moving; words pouring out.
Kaitou looked back at the railing. The cat was gone.
"Oh no, my dear senpai," Hiroshi was saying. "No! There can be no further delay! This pumpkin-carving must take place at once. Oh, yes, a bloated little jack-o-lantern are you, filled with self-importance!"
"Wrong... time... of year," Kaitou gasped. Gathering his legs, he pressed against the cold slick door, gritting his teeth when pain stabbed his leg and arms, yet pushing, gaining his feet temporarily. But he could not hold his balance, fell forward to his knees. "Try... keeping... your holidays straight."
Hiroshi snarled, "You-!" But with a small sudden grimace, the half-demon regained his air of self-possession. He took time drawing in and releasing smoke, obscuring the glass dragonfly that still hovered near his shoulder. "Ah, I understand now."
I don't like that look. What does he understand?
"Wrong time of year indeed. Holidays on his mind. Valentine's Day doth approach, and he's moonstruck."
Kaitou moved his icy lips. "Moon... what?"
Malice lit Hiroshi's features. "Love comes to our boy wonder of the pen at last, is that how it goes? Giving up the predatory blondes and redheads for some mousy little nobody with eyeglasses. How quaint. How charming. What's the creature called again? Michi-something?"
"Leave her out of this!"
"Pity you won't be keeping your date with her tonight. But maybe I'll go in your stead. Once I've finished with you, that is. And then I'll start in on her. This Michiko. After all nothing exceeds like excess."
The name of his beloved, uttered from that smirking mouth, struck lightning to Kaitou's heart. "Don't. I'm warning you."
"She appears somewhat frail. I'm sure I can at least force her to beg. I will derive much satisfaction from that."
"If you even try-"
"Very well," Hiroshi sighed, with the air of a patient mentor teaching a particularly stubborn pupil. "Epitaph or no-it really is your funeral."
"Maybe so." The rain had stopped again. Kaitou felt a cool, burning anger animate his blood, and lend strength to his voice. "But she'd never look at you-not if you're anything like your third-rate essays."
Hiroshi blanched.
"Why do you think not a single one of your bloated, pedantic pieces made it into any of my newspapers?"
The canny eyes narrowed. "Careful what you're saying-"
"And did you imagine I wouldn't recognize Oscar Wilde's The Ballad Of Reading Gaol? Is plagiarism of a greater intellect another of your demonic powers?"
Hiroshi studied the ground, his hands shaking. The glass dragonfly at his shoulder bobbled.
"Talk about stupid," Kaitou went on. "You tipped your own hand, jumped to conclusions because I left the computer on."
"Of all the inhuman-" Hiroshi sputtered with outrage.
"Tried to be human, did you?" sneered Kaitou. "Failed at that, too. Hiei was more human than you could ever be."
"Stop that! Stop!" White as the moon, Hiroshi Ukyou pressed both hands to his ears. Then he straightened, glanced back near the safety railing, at the hammerhead of glass that had struck Hiei down: big, heavy, razor-edged.
Hiroshi raised his shaking hands. The hammerhead wobbled upward, but slowly, as if it was too heavy to manipulate.
Flashscape: cat, dancing on silvered grass.
Kaitou struggled up on one knee, then lunged to his feet.
Picture the soul boiling up and away from the body in a wash of self-colored flame: Botan's shimmering blue, Kuwabara's blazing gold like a sun with his warrior spirit. What color was Hiroshi's soul?
Hiroshi knew nothing of Kaitou's Ability. It was Kaitou's sole advantage. He was not playing to live now, but playing to win. What word to choose? 'Wilde?' Something Wilde would say? No, they could talk around that all day. Don't overthink. If he'd learned nothing else from battling Minamino at Yojigen Mansion, it was not to overthink. This is my last hope. If I don't take his soul, Miss Michiko will be-
What's Hiroshi likely to say? What-
If I shout. Startle him into saying it. "Th-the T-taboo word is-"
Kaitou Yuu struggled to form the word, to initialize his Territory. "-Th-the word is-"
He never got a chance to speak it.
Cutting him off, eyes wide and rolling, Hiroshi began to spit words like a cobra spits venom: How dare you-Who do you think you are-What gives you the right-
It seemed as though his carefully-composed mask were made of papier-mache, dissolving fast in the rain.
Still sputtering, with one jerk of his finger, Hiroshi brought the glass hammerhead to his side. Slashing the air with outstretched hands, he sent the weapon across the rooftop. It traveled end over end toward Kaitou, slow but gathering speed.
Kaitou refused to close his eyes as death whistled toward him. He opened his mouth to shout the Taboo word.
Hiroshi shrieked, "Die, you bastard!"
There came a hollow, sodden sound. Blood gushed-but not from Kaitou.
A broken sword exploded through the front of Hiroshi's chest. Gouts of black liquid burst from his mouth. The glass hammerhead crashed to the rooftop, inches from Kaitou.
What the-?
And someone said, "You first."
Hiroshi clawed uselessly at the broken sword. Then he slumped to his knees, and fell face-down on the roof.
"I said your opponent was me." Hiei stood on the safety rail, shaking like a wind-tossed leaf, scratched and torn and bloodied, but alive. Dropping onto the roof, he fell to one knee. "Hey, Yuu. Don't insult me again."
There was a faint buzzing in Kaitou's ears. "Wh-?"
"Calling me human." Looking indeed like it was three days after his death, Hiei rose and trudged over to Hiroshi's body. "And we gotta stop meeting like this."
The wind cut through Kaitou's wet clothes and set his teeth chattering. "True," he rasped. "Funny how you always show up when someone tries to kill me."
"Funny how you always need your ass saved." Hiei reached Hiroshi. "Fool. If he'd taken the hilt from my hand I'd be done for." Grasping his broken sword, Hiei strained to retrieve it. The effort sent him tumbling backward. He splashed down, then lay still.
Kaitou tried to shout, Hiei! Brace up! No sound emerged.
But maybe that unheard shout was enough. Rolling over, Hiei struggled to his knees. "Look at this thing. Blood all over." He levered himself to his feet and hobbled toward Kaitou. "Disgraceful."
Kaitou tried to get up, but Hiei kept going in and out of focus. The persistent buzzing in his ears grew louder.
His vision darkened, as if burnt at the edges. The world was tinted red, spangled with flecks of gold. Kaitou felt a rising and falling, as the rocking of a gentle sea.
Hiei was a darker smear against the sky. "I am NOT sharing a hospital room with you," Hiei muttered, then once more toppled to his knees.
Too dizzy to remain standing, Kaitou mirrored Hiei's fall, sliding down to his knees, then onto his side.
He had stopped shivering, and no longer felt the cold. The buzzing in his ears was like a beehive.
Too much effort to keep fighting the sea. Its motion was almost pleasant, beckoning him to relax, to allow the waters to carry him where they would. He wanted to sleep.
Didn't you have to stay awake when you were dying? No, that made no sense.
The waves rocked him, calmed him. Weary beyond measure, he gave in. As his eyes melted shut, he perceived an odd blurring of the roof, of the sky, of Hiei, all of them going indistinct, seen through fog.
Then Kaitou Yuu let go, and felt himself drift out to sea.
(To be continued: That strange voice-is it an angel?)
-30-