Title: When Death Comes a'Knocking: Book 1 – Of Revelations
Plot Mistresses: Shiozaki, Shaynie, Literary Eagle, Librarycat
Spell Researchers: The talented, too-kind people of the Yahoo!Group, shadowsofthefox
Warning: Much hinting of the Kojiki Trilogy, as well as a Disturbed!Kyo.
Scene Master: Shiozaki & Librarycat
Review replies:
Hitomibishop: Nyahhahaha! If you think an Angry!Kyo is scary, wait till you read this chapter. . .
Quatre Winner: Ah, a faithful reviewer. I love you. Ne, ne, you never answered my question. Is Yami Quatre cute?
Cmquietone, Yanagi-sen, Kodomo Hikari, kael, Kiki neesan, tenshiamanda, Phoenix: Thank you. Hopefully, I'll get rid of the typos in this chapter, though I'm not exactly hoping much. . .really, we must ponder; why is Kyo so upset?
Aki Konoe: Aki-chan! Gomen! I got your sms but liked you theorized, I was broke! And yes, it would cost me a lot to sms overseas. . .ah, well, guess we stick with email huh? And the Alexander in the new world thing, is it MSN Messenger? Coz if yes, I have it, though not under my name. How about Yahoo!Messenger?
Feye Morgan: Yes, I absolutely love the way you review! And to answer some of your questions; the 'she' will be explained soon. And no, Snape was not being nice (see my notes below). As to how the Shinigami's identities will be discovered. . . *smile* That's up to you people to find out ne? I can't spoil the surprise! Have you read the trilogy? *cringe* Let me assure you that my writing has improved since then. I swear, I get embarrassed when I read my old works. .
Winter & Gentleman: Pleased to make your acquaintance, Winter. ^___^ Gentleman has always been such a courteous reviewer that having his sibling on it as well makes my smile grow wider ^________^ See? Your simple praises do me a world of good. Keep them coming.
Tatsuken: Ah, long time reader, first time reviewer? Never mind, as long as I hear from you! ^___^ I'm happy to know that a lot of my old readers are sticking around. Feels like coming back to a well-loved place. And no, considering that it's fanfiction, it's not weird hearing from someone I don't know. It's how I make some of the best friends I ever had. Hope to keep hearing from you in the future!
NOTE TO ALL: I would just like to insist here, for the sake of plot integrity, that Snape was not being nice to Harry in the infirmary scene. Let's just say that it was more of a temporary suspension of hostilities. Snape gets to see firsthand what a vision does to Harry and he sympathizes. But that does not mean he'll turn all nice and mushy on Harry, in the process forgetting the hatred he has for the boy's father and thus, turning this into a Severitus fic. Snape is a far more complex character than that to ever happen in my story. He is a snarky git who's doing a thankless job for people who hate him for what he is.
You have Librarycat to thank for giving such color to him ^____^
Chapter 21
Here There Be Monsters
Takashi was standing on the edge of a cliff. The drop was steep, sudden, empty air that deepened into an inky well that echoed with the clatter of falling stones as his toes scuffed the lip of the cliff. Turning his head, he could see a forest stretching out behind him, dark with evergreens that stood silent and still; sentinels guarding the way to this, the boundary of the world. A wind sighed softly, carrying with it the scent of old blood and sakura, its voice burdened with a weariness that was strangely human.
As his hair was stirred; russet-gold strands brushing his face as tenderly as a lover, he remembered. This was the very same spot where the girl, Satsumi Saori, killed herself. She was part of a case they investigated some 20-odd years back; a case of demon possession that saw a teacher and two students killed, and Saori herself the unwilling host of the incorporeal demon and its 'child'. Driven beyond anything a young girl could possibly endure, she chose to throw herself off this very cliff, instead of giving birth to the parody that would have seen her killed anyway.
He had failed to save her. He had run after her but was too late. Too late to stop her from falling on to the hard, hard ground below and he blamed himself.
But even so, why was he here again? His last memory was of a fight; screams of denial and harsh truth slapping their faces and of green eyes telling him that all would be alright.
"Takashi."
He wasn't surprised to see Kyo standing by his side. It was after all, as logical conclusions go, a dream. And anything was possible in a dream. His Kyo was wearing his favorite black turtleneck and jeans. They were standing side by side, toes just brushing the edge of the cliff but no vertigo assailed them. He could feel the warmth radiating from his partner and he sidled closer in response. Kyo merely smiled, making no move to embrace him as he would have normally done, yet not making any move to back away either. But this was a dream so he pushed that oddity aside.
That, and the fact that Kyo's left iris was his usual pale, pale blue while the right was a blinding white, ringed with black.
But it's just a dream.
Kyo placed a hand on his arm and Takashi tilted his head closer, the better to hear Kyo despite the silence which was underscored only by the mourning wind.
"It's not your fault," Kyo said, smiling.
"I know it isn't," Takashi nodded. "But it is anyway." He had no idea what they were talking about but it was the right answer. He knew it deep inside himself, even if he didn't know what wasn't his fault in the first place.
"Silly Taka," Kyo replied, affection making the pale blue iris warm and the white even more brilliant. He lifted his hand, pointing to something beyond the cliff, beyond the well that waited to swallow innocent girls in its maw. Takashi looked to where the finger was pointing and he saw a miniature world; complete with swirling white on blue, the green and yellow of continents swimming in between.
"Do you see it?" Kyo's voice had taken on an urgent tone and Takashi felt sweat beading his spine in response, his heart speeding up.
"I see it."
"Can you see it?"
"I do."
For there, running from the northern right to the southern pole of the miniature world, was a crack. The line was jagged and deep, the color of blood oxidized, an egg cracked open and spilling out precious life. As he watched, the crack grew deeper, with spiderweb lines branching out that touched each continent, curdled white clouds to noxious black, and boiled blue seas into a noisome pus.
Kyo turned and caught Takashi's face between his palms. The left iris was slowly losing color as well, the blue leaching out and leaving behind white blankness, slowly matching the right. "You can't let it happen."
He nodded slightly; Kyo's grip was strong, almost painful, but he welcomed any sort of touch from his beloved. Be it pain, be it tenderness, what was important was that it was Kyo. Never mind that it was all only a dream.
"You have to stop me, Taka," Kyo said softly and he leaned in close. Takashi closed his eyes in response and was rewarded with a butterfly-soft kiss; an ephemeral brush that burned as cold as ice and it warmed his blood. "Remember that as well."
Takashi opened his eyes, despair flooding him as Kyo stepped away, his hands falling back to his side. Takashi reached out unthinkingly for his partner, already bereft by the loss of contact. "Kyo, I—"
"No!" Kyo's voice turned harsh and Takashi flinched. Kyo softened his tone but repeated, "No." He held up his hands, chest high, as though cradling something and a round mirror blurred into existence between his waiting hands. The gilded frame was ornately decorated; vines and leaves and flowers that beguiled the mind with their intricate shapes and delicate beauty. Takashi tried to follow the twist and flow but it eluded him, leaving him dizzy. Kyo speaking again brought back his attention.
His love's eyes were now completely white.
"Remember. You can't let it happen," Kyo said gently and the mirror showed a cracked world.
Takashi nodded, eyes drawn to the silvered surface of the glass, a pull stronger than Kyo's keeping his gaze locked on to the strange mirror.
"Remember, you have to stop me," Kyo said and again, Takashi nodded.
Smiling, pleased by Takashi's answers, Kyo closed the distance between them, still bearing the mirror which he raised to cover his face so that Takashi's own reflection met him.
"Remember, Takashi." The words came from all around him; from the wind, the ground, the silent trees, and from inside the mirror. "Stop it before it's too late."
And the mirror showed his face clearly, Takashi's face, and it showed hazel-green eyes drowning under spreading gold until they glowed amber.
But it's alright because it was just a dream.
*****************
Takashi opened his eyes to stare directly into huge, purple ones which were so close to his own that their amethyst drowned out all and any colors. It took the former sensei a while to understand and when he did, he yelped, a rather undignified sound for someone his age, and flailed wildly.
"Ack! Tsuzuki!" And promptly fell off the bed.
He popped back up again an instant later, scowling at the sight of a Tsuzuki who was rolling around on the messed up bed, howling with laughter.
"It's not funny," he complained plaintively. "You scared the hell out of me."
Tsuzuki was gasping out half-sentences, laughing so hard that he was practically wheezing. "Y-your face! And—and--! Oh Enma!"
"Glad someone finds it funny," Takashi muttered irritably under his breath and sat morosely on the floor by the bed. Judging by the wheezing, it was going to take the older Shinigami some time to recover so he might as well wait it out.
A good while later, after breakfast which Tsuzuki had insisted he take despite protesting half-heartedly that he wasn't hungry, the two professors found themselves heading out into the cold morning. Tsuzuki was chattering a mile a minute, about anything and everything and the pointless banter was frankly driving the younger man up the wall.
"Tsuzuki! Enough already!" Exasperated, Takashi flapped his hands at the lanky Shinigami ambling along by his side. Maybe if he thought of the grinning idiot as an oversized house-fly, he would take the hint and buzz off. But no. There was a mischievous glint in the man's violet eyes, despite the pout that he wore.
"Ne, that's mean!" he whined. "Don't send me away. I'm so lonely without you."
"Oh, for the love of Enma -" Takashi swallowed the rest of the sentence and swore to himself that he wouldn't rise to the bait again. He crossly hunched his shoulders inside his professor's robes as they left the protection of the castle walls behind. The early November morning was brilliantly clear – and bitterly cold. Thick frost furred each blade of grass on the sloping lawn and sent traceries of white clambering like ivy up the ancient gray stone of the castle. The cold sky was the clear, unfriendly blue of approaching winter, but sunlight lent ruddy, warm highlights to the bright chestnut hair of his annoying friend. The thin breeze ruffled it and put color in Tsuzuki's cheeks. With a pang, Takashi imagined that same healthy flush on Kyo's face, and his stomach felt weighted down with lead instead of the couple of bites of dry toast that he had managed.
He groaned, gathering his robes more tightly around him. How Tsuzuki could stand to walk around with his robes as usual flapping open was beyond him. Takashi was tempted to retreat back to the warmth of the fire burning on the grate of the staff room. "Aren't you cold?" he snapped, forgetting that he wasn't speaking to the other man.
Tsuzuki snickered, giving him a 'made you do it' look. "Nah. Professor Flitwick taught me a warming charm. I have to say that it was more work than it looked. I mean, compared to -" He might have prattled on indefinitely except that Takashi clapped a hand over his mouth.
A student passing them on the path shot him a startled glance, and hurried on. Takashi stifled his rising irritation and said in a low voice, "I know what you're doing. And it isn't going to work." The two of them had come to a complete stop at the top of the path where they could chose to go right, toward the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's cottage, or left down toward the Quidditch pitch. Making no effort to escape, the older Shinigami waited patiently for the doctor to continue. Takashi sighed. "It isn't that I don't appreciate it, Asato. You carried me back to the school after the whole mess with the Wild Hunt, and you sat with me the whole night. In fact, you've stuck to me like glue for over twenty-four hours now. So, surely, you can see that I'm just fine." He removed his hand. "Now you can talk, but only if you say something intelligent."
Tsuzuki's cheerful grin had morphed into a rueful but more genuine smile, and he shook his head affectionately. "I worry about you, that's all."
"And I appreciate it. But the only thing that's going to make me feel better is seeing that Kyo is okay." he replied with some asperity. Tzusuki hooked his elbow through the younger man's and tugged until they were again in motion, following the hurrying students toward the oval of the pitch below.
"Maa, maa." Grin widening again, he kept his voice light but pitched quietly enough that no one else would overhear. "You know that 'Soka-chan is watching over Kyo-kun. He'll keep him safe."
Hope kindled in Takashi's hazel eyes, and he demanded eagerly, "What does Hisoka say?" He had forgotten that his two friends could – and did – communicate telepathically. Or maybe it was a willful forgetfulness since he had no such luxury to soothe his own loneliness.
"Hisoka said that he didn't get to talk to Kyo yesterday, but that he was back in the dormitory by bedtime last night. The poor boy must have been exhausted to sleep so deeply, as Hisoka didn't sense any distress from his aura." The kindness in Tsuzuki's voice wrapped like a balm around the auburn haired man's soul. For the first time in days, Takashi felt some of his concerns dissipate. 'Some' being the keyword. A deep uneasiness was coiled deep in his guts, a black snake that was waiting to strike when he was least expecting it. He felt that there was something he was missing, but exactly what he just couldn't put a finger on.
"What else?" he asked instead, choosing for the moment, to ignore the deep pit that gnawed worryingly.
"Not much. He hasn't called me this morning yet. I think he's exhausted from the overexposure to the Wild Hunt. He can't seem to stop himself from overdoing things." Affection made Tsuzuki's voice indulgent. Takashi chuckled. If the handsome boy being discussed had been present, he would have shouted 'Baka!' and shown his mate just how much 'overdoing' he was capable of. And then Tsuzuki would whine and complain, and Takashi would tell them to go get a room. Predictable, but it was still a fresh wonder in his mind that the two had been fortunate enough to find each other.
They had reached the level ground surrounding the pitch before formless worry reared its ugly head again and assailed the doctor. "Are you sure there wasn't anything else? Hisoka didn't sense anything amiss the night Kyo went walkabout, either."
"Takashi," interrupted the older Shinigami. "Kyo was sleepwalking. Hisoka figures that whatever dream he had been having started innocuously enough, and that's why he missed it. But now he puts up an extra ward at night, so he'll wake up if it happens again."
Shivering, Takashi pulled his arm away from his friend's. He drew his hands into the sleeves of his robe. "I'm sorry. I just can't get this feeling out of my head that there's something I'm missing. Something big, just barely under the surface." He was so sunk in gloom that he missed the way Tsuzuki flinched. The older man opened his mouth to reply, but the chance was lost as cheerful shouts hailed them.
"Oi, Professors! D'you mean to watch us practice?" The Gryffindor team surrounded the two Japanese, and Tsuzuki was again laughing and joking. Takashi forced a smile as well.
Ron was proudly showing off his new vice-captain badge, the miniature silver lion roaring and prancing about. Takashi was momentarily distracted by it, his mind wondering at the oddity that was the wizarding world. Doesn't anything stay still? The portraits moved, the photographs were like silent movies, and even suits of armors and badges disdained to keep quiet. But soon enough his attention was caught, and his worries renewed, by a head of messy dark hair that hovered quietly at Ron's side, a small genuine smile basking in the face of Ron's pleasure.
Takashi frowned, drawing nearer and discreetly tugging at the red sleeve of a Gryffindor Quidditch robe until its owner detached himself from the crowd milling about the easygoing professor. Tsuzuki was happily launching into some absurd explanation of a proposed combined Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures class for Monday. Normally, the former doctor would have cringed at the glee in his tone when his friend said 'summoning' and 'minor demon' in the same breath, but his attention was focused on a certain boy instead.
"Harry," Takashi said quietly, aware that even through the noise and joyous bantering, Ron was watching them closely from the corner of his eyes. So was his sister, Ginny. "What are you doing out of the hospital wing? Did Madam Pomfrey allow you to go?"
Harry ducked his head, grinning sheepishly as he scuffed his shoes against frozen grass. "Yeah... kinda," he mumbled.
Takashi sighed, laying a cool hand against Harry's forehead. The boy, as expected, jumped slightly at the contact but didn't draw away, a good sign for him. Thankfully, Harry did not have a fever and overall, he looked fine, even if his eyes were a bit too bright behind those ugly glasses. Takashi made a mental note to. . .'persuade' the boy to get a new pair of glasses when they were in Hogsmeade. Surely such a hideous design must be against the law?
"You look fine," he conceded reluctantly and Harry's grin grew then faltered when he continued, "But. . .there's something off." He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully, taking in the bright glimmer and the suddenly pale skin.
"Harry?" he asked gently, tipping the boy's chin up with a finger, unconsciously mimicking Snape's gesture the night before. "Are you alright?"
Harry blinked rapidly, trying to meet his eyes, the bright green orbs shadowed with what Takashi recognized with ease as the remembrance of old pain.
"I," Harry rasped, "I had a. . .a dream last night." The slight emphasis Harry put on 'dream' alerted him to what Harry was trying to say without anyone else becoming the wiser. The former sensei winced, grief darkening his eyes. He allowed his hand to cup Harry's cheek briefly, sending him a small spurt of warmth. It wasn't exactly a form of empathy but it got the message across. The shadows in Harry's eyes lifted until he was once again just a 16 year old boy ready to have fun with his friends.
"We'll talk later, okay?" Takashi smiled and Harry nodded shyly in response. "Good. Now have a great practice and please," here, he put on an exaggerated grimace, "Try to not do another Wrinkly Feint thing."
Harry laughed, drawing the attention of his teammates. "Professor!" he chided lightly. "It's Wronski Feint."
"Whatever," Takashi rolled his eyes and retaliated by ruffling Harry's already messy hair. "Go on, you little imp."
Still laughing, Harry joined his teammates and with a whoosh, 14 brooms kicked off, bright red figures soon dotting the expanse of the sky. Takashi watched them for a few minutes, Tsuzuki by his side, as he kept track of a small boy on a black broomstick. He might have watched longer but for a sudden pounding behind his eyes that made him wince, hand darting up to knead his temples.
"Headache?" Takashi did not hear the alarm in Tsuzuki's voice, only the worry.
"It's nothing bad," he sighed, still kneading. "It'll go away in a bit."
"And I'll bet a cup of hot tea wouldn't hurt." Firmly, Tsuzuki latched on to his arm and proceeded to drag him back to the castle. "And maybe some of those 'scone' things, with clotted cream, or maybe lemon curd. . .?"
Takashi submitted to the manhandling with a small groan. The senior Shinigami's care was a soothing balm, deprived as he was of Kyo's presence and Takashi allowed himself a small smile, despite the headache and despite Tsuzuki pulling him along like a little puppy on a leash. Right now, a cup of the hot steaming brew (green, as he was feeling a bit homesick) and some scones would be nice. With clotted cream.
***************
Hisoka was not ashamed to admit that he was scared.
And with very good reason.
The clearing they were in was only a rough circle of frozen grass, ringed by skeletal trees that stood guard. This was their regular spot for their early morning sessions; far back enough into the forest that neither Hagrid nor the castle's inhabitants would spot them, yet not deep enough to tempt the creatures that prowled in the shadows. On any normal day, they would have been sweating by now; the byproduct of a good workout; and would have perhaps engaged in one or two impromptu challenges. Neither could deny the thrill of one and more than once bets had ridden on the outcome.
Yet the sun had peeked timidly over the horizon, unsure as to its welcome and neither of the men had exchanged even one blow.
Maybe it's because Kyo is busy trying to scare the shit out of you, a little voice pointed out helpfully and Hisoka managed to contain a self-derisive snort at that. And it's bloody damn well working, he thought sourly.
Kyo, despite his earlier. . .insistence that Hisoka hurry up and fight, had done nothing but to circle his friend, a hungry shark eyeing its prey and wondering which appendage should it bite off first. The head? The arm? His sword, the naked steel shining with cold indifference, was held in a lackluster grip, pale fingers just barely curling around the hilt. But Hisoka was not fooled into complacency. Kyo, who was not descended from a dynastic family as the Kurosaki which demanded that its heirs be trained in the way of the warrior, was still a talented fighter. Hisoka would not hesitate to admit that on a good day, Kyo could give him a run for his money. Properly aroused, Hisoka would not even want to voluntarily cross blades with him.
That slack grip could just as easily change, lightning-quick, and the tip of the sharp sword which was dragged through the frozen grass could just as swiftly be aiming for his heart in the next instant. It did not escape his notice that Kyo's blade was now shining with more than just reflected light; power thrummed through the steel and the tip left behind a trail of softened earth and burnt grass. Swallowing hard, Hisoka turned on his heels, keeping his own blade straight out, a stance that was good for instant defense as he tracked Kyo's every movement. Kyo ignored the sword which kept a steady guard on him, continuing to circle and circle until the blond empath felt ready to scream in frustration.
"Kyo," Hisoka tried, wincing as his voice cracked, "What's going on? What's wrong with you?"
Kyo did not bother to answer but went on circling, circling, circling.
"Please, Kyo! We can talk this out. Whatever you have to say, I'll listen! We n—"
"Hisoka."
The reedy whisper that produced his name froze his words, clogging his throat with the sharp ice of dread. Kyo never stopped his relentless circling but his face, which had been devoid of expression, even the earlier rage, now bore a mockery of a smile. A smile that did nothing to reassure Hisoka. It was an empty smile. A facial expression whose intent was suspicious to say the least.
"Hisoka." Kyo kept on saying his name in that singsong tone, one that grated his ears like nails across a blackboard. Beads of sweat trailed down his temples, dampening his light blond hair.
"Kyo, I—"
"Shh. . ."
Hisoka gulped, eyes widening.
"You wanted me to talk. So you'll listen, ne?" Kyo cocked his head to the side, that empty smile growing. The empath was forcibly reminded of a clown; a grinning monstrosity.
"You said that we were cursed by becoming Shinigami. You were right you know. We're cursed cursed cursed," Kyo sang softly.
"W-w-why do you," Hisoka faltered, "Why do you say that?"
Kyo finally stopped his incessant circling but it did nothing to reassure Hisoka. If anything, the fear that was curdling his stomach turned even sourer until he felt as if his insides were nothing more than pools of hot acid. Kyo swayed dreamily from side to side, eyes half-lidded and the empath was forcibly reminded of a Kyo chained in paper ofudas like a demented mummy, standing in judgment before the powers of Meifu.
"I watched my parents die, did you know?" He did not wait for Hisoka's answer but went on, still in that dreamy, almost childlike tone. "And I died for Takashi because that's what you're supposed to do for the one you love. And then I became a Shinigami. And Takashi joined me, the silly man. But that's how love works. All you need is love," Kyo giggled.
The giggles died and the smile faded, leaving behind a cold mask and pale blue eyes that snapped open, impaling him with a stare that held just the bare vestiges of sanity. Kyo's grip on his sword changed and the blade was held upright as Kyo crouched lower, his stance changing to an offensive one.
"We did our duty as Shinigami," Kyo hissed, never taking off that cold stare from his sweating friend. "We killed when we were told to! We bled when we had to! We did everything so that we could stay together in death but apparently, it wasn't enough!"
"Kyo, pl—"
"I lost count of how many people I killed! How many I've condemned to perpetual darkness! And it still wasn't enough!"
Hisoka took a desperate gamble then. He lowered his sword, a hand reaching out futilely to his friend; the gesture an eloquent plea to be heard. "Please, Kyo, whatever it is, I'm sure Takashi can help you! I can take you to him and—"
Again, he was cut off. This time, by Kyo's shrieked denial.
"I want nothing from the one who betrayed me! He abandoned me when I needed him!" Kyo shut his mouth with an audible snap, shaking his head wildly as one trembling hand cradled his suddenly aching head. "What?"
Hisoka stood in mouth gaping horror. The sword felt too heavy in his forever young hands and the burden of this new danger too heavy for his frail shoulders. His breath hitched, mouth working soundlessly.
But dear Enma, what happened next spiked fear in his heart like nothing before. Kyo ceased his trembling and raised his head slowly. His pupils were dilated, the black eclipsing the too-pale irises as another clown smile scarred his face.
"What am I saying?" Kyo asked himself, voice eerily soft. "Takashi would never do such a thing. Silly Kyo. Silly, silly Kyo."
Hisoka was shaking so badly his sword rattled. The sweat running down his back chilled him and the perspiration on his palms made his grip slick. He swallowed hard and made what had to be one of the hardest decisions in his life.
Hisoka raised his sword.
Kyo did likewise, the clown smile widening. "Shall we dance?"
****************
Being a Seeker definitely had its disadvantages at times, Harry decided gloomily. While the Chasers, Beaters and even the Keeper chased after Quaffles and dodged murderous Bludgers, they were keeping warm. While he, as well as the reserve Seeker, Criss, froze themselves as they flew in slow circles, looking for the elusive Snitch. The scrimmage had been going on for a good half hour, with no sign of the fluttering golden ball as of yet and Harry had the sinking feeling that it was going to be one of those games that would drag till dinner.
"Seamus you prat! That was my head!"
"Well you might want to keep a better watch on it then!"
Harry groaned, slumping dejectedly over the handle of his Firebolt. The teams were in a strange mood. Rather than letting the cold dampen their spirits, it had done otherwise; Chasers were practically pummeling each other for possession of the Quaffle while the Beaters seem to think that anything moving, be it human, broomstick or Bludger, was fair game. On top of it, Criss had decided that the only way to find the Snitch was to dive pell-mell into the fray, perhaps forcing the golden ball out of hiding while yelling a war cry that sounded suspiciously like "Kill kill! Die die!"
"Getting tired, Captain?"
Harry raised himself up wearily, finding Ginny hovering a few feet besides him. The redhead had on a thick woolen cap and fingerless leather gloves which didn't seem to offer much protection as her digits were turning a worrisome blue at the points. Her cheeks were flushed red with cold as well and Harry couldn't help but notice that the blush enhanced her coloring, rather than clashing horribly with her hair as it tended to do with Ron.
"Gin," he smiled tiredly. "How are you holding up so far as Chaser?"
"Not bad," she nodded to the melee that was still going on below them. "Though I think someone had too much caffeine this morning."
Harry groaned. "You think so? I thought I was just imagining it. What is wrong with everyone?"
There was a furious shout and the remaining Chasers suddenly broke free, bright red figures zooming manically and converging on Claire Magali, a fourth year who now had the Quaffle tucked possessively under her arm and was laughing gleefully as she dodged Eria Stone's Bludger. The brown haired girl shouted, waving her Beater's bat in frustration as Claire scored.
Harry frowned, worrying the whistle he kept on a string around his neck. "I think I should call off the play. Things seem to be getting out of hand."
Ginny stopped him, placing a small hand on his arm. "Wait. Give them time first. Maybe they'll work out the aggression soon."
Harry swallowed, heart suddenly beating madly as he noticed how delicate Ginny's fingers were and how light her touch was. How on earth does she handle the Quaffle as well as she does anyway, Harry wondered silently. By appearances alone, Ginny looked far too fragile for such a rough sport but the grin she flashed him dissolved any such notion. That grin contained a world of merriment and quite a bit of mischievous sparkle. However she looked like, she wasn't at all fragile. After all, this was the girl who survived the Chamber of Secrets and the Department of Mysteries. She was tough.
Why did I start noticing that? Harry thought to himself. Why is it suddenly so important that I realize that there's more to Ginny Weasley than just the youngest of seven siblings? More than just Ron's sister in fact?
"A Knut for your thoughts?" The teasing voice broke through his reverie and Harry twitched, red flooding his cheeks.
"Ah," he stalled, looking around frantically, all the time aware of the knowing smile that Ginny wore. "I was just thinking that maybe we could. . ." Merlin knew he was babbling but he couldn't help it. He had a tendency to do that around Ginny a lot lately.
He searched the pitch below him, trying to find a good subject change when a strange sound caught his attention.
"Did you hear that?" he asked sharply, totally forgetting his earlier embarrassment. He twisted around in his seat, trying to pinpoint the source of that sound.
Ginny too was looking around, but with a puzzled frown on her face. "Hear what?"
A sweet, metallic chiming faintly reached their ears. It was clearly audible in the still, frozen air, despite the fact that it had to be coming from some distance away. "What's that?" Ginny asked curiously. Harry hovered near her, his grip unthinkingly tightening on his broom's handle. That noise. . .It pulled at him.
"I don't know. . ." he answered slowly. The strange sound, too asymmetrical to be the ringing of a bell, was coming from the near fringes of the Forbidden Forest. Without thinking, he backed his broom away from his teammate and zoomed off in a broad arc toward the source of the sound.
Hagrid's hut, and the small, fenced enclosures where he sometimes kept subjects for their Magical Creatures class, flashed beneath him as he settled into a low, fast run. His course skirted the thinner, more tamed border of the Forest. Trees and shrubs, all limned in glittering frost skimmed by mere feet below him. As he flitted past each clearing, he scanned it for anything that could be generating the noise that drew him like a magnet. Ginny's shouted plea for him to Damn it, wait up! was largely lost in the wind of his passage. The cold air tore at his nose, making it run. Harry strained for the luring beacon, stretched out along his broom.
There! A flicker of motion up ahead drew his eye. He circled an opening in the trees, shedding speed as he dropped toward the ground. A bright gleam of silver drew his gaze, and Harry identified it as a sword, of all things, being swung two-handed by a dark figure. The accompanying shing reached him as another form, clad in blue, parried. As he circled, Harry realized that it was Kyo, and Hisoka, and they were dueling with slender swords that glittered in the early morning light.
Both boys were dressed in odd, full skirts that reached to their ankles, and wide sleeved shirts. Kyo's clothing was black, while Hisoka wore shades of blue that suited his fair coloring. They were focused with single-minded intensity on one another, and had been for some time to judge by the way their hair was plastered down with sweat, and the frozen ground was trampled. Frost and autumn seared shades of brown and gray provided a backdrop for a deadly serious battle. Harry hovered indecisively, drawn to their duel, but at the same time convinced that he oughtn't to be there, watching.
The two Japanese boys separated, facing one another. Kyo was breathing hard, his pale skin drawn tight over the bones of his face, pale eyes burning with an almost feverish intensity. He gripped his sword with hands that trembled visibly, sending shivering reflections from the bright steel of his blade. Slowly, he brought it up into a stance where the blade was pointed nearly level at Hisoka. Hisoka was breathing just as hard, though he kept his face impassive. Both boys froze in their stance, swords hovering expectantly.
Harry, as tense as the fighters below him, waited for. . .something.
Sweat dripped down Hisoka's face, plastering his fringes and he shook his head irritably. It seemed to be a cue as the blond raised his sword, slicing up and across Kyo's torso. Kyo retreated instinctively a hairsbreadth beyond Hisoka's reach, and in a single fluid motion stepped in for a counter attack. The razor sharp tip of his blade sliced the front of Hisoka's shirt, parting the light blue fabric to reveal a white undershirt. Hisoka's lips twisted into a silent snarl as he sidestepped. Steel met steel with a sharp, discordant ching, sliding past as Kyo twisted into a desperate save. But when he tried to step back, to disengage, Hisoka followed. His blade was raised level with his shoulder, flat toward the ground, and it angled sharply as he thrust through Kyo's back. The red streaked tip emerged from Kyo's chest as a startled gasp burst from his mouth. Kyo's eyes rolled back and he slid bonelessly off of Hisoka's blade.
"Kyo!" Harry screamed. He flung himself off of his broom before he even reached the ground, stumbling on impact. The slow motion, dreamy quality of the duel dissipated into a fast forward nightmare: Kyo folded into an ungainly heap on the ground, blood, red on the frost-whitened earth, spreading out from under him. Hisoka's head snapped up again, startled. He hadn't sensed Harry's presence.
Screams of rage from up ahead gave Ginny a clue as to where Harry had disappeared to. She had lost him rounding a bend in the tree line, just past Hagrid's, and then wasted precious time dipping low into each secluded clearing in search of him. Whatever the quality was of those bright, shivering sounds that led Harry so unerringly was beyond her. She was forced to search with ordinary senses for the trail. And now, the sound had stopped, and instead there was screaming. Her heart in her throat, Ginny dove down through a gap in the trees, into a roughly oval clearing.
Ginny stared wildly. Harry was on his knees, trying to gather Kyo's apparently lifeless, limp body into his arms. Beyond him, Hisoka stood, sword sagging in his outstretched hand. The blond was shouting furiously, "Stop it, Harry! It's not what it seems!" He took a step toward the dark haired pair on the ground, faltering when the English boy recoiled. Blood, brilliantly scarlet, ran over Harry's white hand, dripping to the trampled, frost seared grass.
"Why! Why did you hurt him? I thought he was your friend!" Harry screamed back.
"He is, damn it! If you'll just let me explain--" Hisoka stabbed his sword into the ground and abandoned it. He tried again to reach out a hand. Harry snarled at him.
"Don't you touch me! I've seen you use your powers on Kyo. You're not going to make me forget about this." His embrace tightened around Kyo's shoulders, the other boy's head lolling uncomfortably back over the crook of his elbow. Ginny made an inarticulate sound of protest, wanting to help, but afraid to get too close to the boys. It attracted Harry's attention, and he shot her a sharp look from green eyes that threatened to overflow with tears and wild rage.
"Ginny, get Madame Pomfrey. Tell her it's an emergency. Then go find Professor McGonagall and tell her to. . .to. . ." The girl nodded mutely, hearing what her friend and teammate was unable to say: Tell her to come armed. She whirled, throwing herself onto her broom and into the air, even as Hisoka's frustrated shout of "Stop!" rang out behind her.
"Harry," The blond was growing increasingly frantic. "Kyo is fine."
"How can you say that?! He – he's dying, if he isn't already dead! You murderer!" Railing at the younger of the Japanese, Harry felt something snap, deep within him. He laid Kyo's limp body tenderly on the ground, and launched himself at the other boy, fully intending to pummel him into a paste. Hisoka's green eyes widened in surprise, and then he was dodging a punch, slipping under Harry's arm. He caught the English boy by the elbow and turned, bracing his hip against the taller youth, and doing something that resulted in Harry going briefly airborne without the benefit of a broom. He hit the ground with a hard thump that knocked the wind out of him.
Harry ignored his own wheezing and frantically scrambled to his feet, determined to finish what he started but suddenly stopped. Hisoka was kneeling over Kyo's prone body, one hand pressed against the still bleeding wound. But those vibrant green eyes were focused on him, instead of the friend he just murdered.
Gently, as though trying to calm a wild animal, Hisoka held out his other hand, palm facing him.
"You'll see Harry, it's going to be okay." Saying so, he dropped his gaze back to Kyo and chanted softly, the words obviously magical as the wind suddenly picked up. Harry could sense a vibrancy to the wind, almost a tang that tasted metallic on his tongue. Dumbfounded, Harry could only watch as the blood which had been steadily pooling around Kyo's body slowly receded, like a film played backwards. Sluggishly, the red red blood was sucked back in and, as Harry crawled over disbelievingly to check with his own eyes, the gaping flesh that looked too real slowly closed, the broken skin and muscle healing. Harry froze, a faint gurgle bubbling at the back of his throat when Hisoka wove the same magic on him and the blood that stained his already scarlet robes disappeared as well.
There was a second or two of silence, underscored by Harry's faint whimpering when the black clad form stirred. Blank eyes blinked open slowly as Kyo brought a hand up to rub his face. He coughed, effectively startling Harry out of his daze and the boy immediately launched himself at Kyo, hugging the older youth tight around the neck and almost sobbing with relief.
"Oh, god, Kyo! I thought you were dead! There was so much blood and—and," Harry babbled, finding comfort in just letting his mouth run off on its own. The boy he hugged slowly raised himself into a sitting position, Harry mindlessly following but it finally occurred to Harry that something was still. . .wrong as Kyo made no move to hug him back.
Suddenly apprehensive, Harry dropped his arms, moving back and looking at Kyo, then Hisoka uncertainly. There was a grim set to the blond's mouth, making him look achingly old beyond his years. Kyo though, was staring at him, still with that blank expression on his face as though he had never met the English wizard before.
"K-kyo?" Harry said falteringly.
Hisoka placed a cold hand on Harry's shoulder, causing him to jump in surprise. Hisoka ignored his reaction, instead, pulling him back and away from Kyo one-handedly as his free hand fumbled for his sword.
"Move back, slowly," Hisoka instructed, keeping his voice soft.
"Hisoka? What's going on? What's wrong with Kyo?" Harry was starting to get frightened. There was something off with Kyo. And it scared him badly. Kyo was still sitting there stone still, his hands flexing, curling and uncurling like an agitated spider. Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what to say but definitely sure that he had to say anything before whatever it was that was causing his stomach to clench painfully like that made itself known. Hisoka had reached his sword and was still pulling Harry away, keeping his gaze trained on the zombie-like Kyo.
A flock of brooms came streaming in low over the trees then, led by a Ginny who was flying with a grim determination that she seldom even brought to a Quidditch match. Close on her heels were McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey, and a confused mass of some of the bigger and brawnier seventh year Gryffindors who had obviously been pressed into service as an impromptu police force. Hisoka shot them a quick look before he stood up, hand falling away from his sword and taking a step back from the confused Harry. Hisoka said nothing as he was surrounded, his slight shape engulfed by his captors.
"Mr. Shiozaki," Professor McGonagall snapped. "What exactly is going on here?"
That eerie blank stare was directed at the professor who blanched suddenly, hand going with remarkable speed to her wand. "Mr. Shiozaki!"
"We were having a practice fight," Hisoka spoke up from the middle of the cluster he was surrounded in. "It got out of hand, Harry saw it, and panicked. There's nothing wrong."
Madam Pomfrey was kneeling before Kyo, tugging open the torn collar of his outer shirt. "Minerva," she interrupted. Her tone was grim. "He's been run clean through, but the injury has been healed already." She stuck a finger through the tear in the fabric and wriggled it, her fair skin clearly visible against the black cotton. "There's another on his front."
Silence descended over the clearing as Professor McGonagall strode briskly to the fallen swords, picking one up with all the care she would have shown a live snake. She sniffed the blade delicately, her thin nostrils flaring yet no one laughed.
"I smell blood," she declared. She swung around to face Hisoka, revealed only as a pale face amidst the taller seventh years. "Gentlemen, please escort Mr. Kurosaki to the Headmaster's. Poppy, I'll help you take Mr. Shiozaki to the infirmary where you can give him a proper. . .check." There was an ominous ring to the last word that had Harry's eyes widen. But before he could say anything, Madam Pomfrey was already gesturing to the other students still milling around and they herded Kyo back in the direction of the castle. Hisoka followed his captors, silent and uncomplaining.
Feeling lost and alone, Harry discovered Ginny by his side, the girl's face so pale that her freckles stood out. He was sure that he could have counted each individual dot if he wanted to. Ginny slipped her hand into his and squeezed reassuringly. He managed a small smile, unconvincing at best, when McGonagall turned to them, her face stern.
"Mr. Potter, Ms. Weasley, please follow me. The Headmaster would like to hear your account of the events, I'm sure.
The two of them followed her silently.
***to be continued***
A/N: Me and Librarycat had this certain scene all planned out and what you've read is barely the beginning. She was right when she said it's going to take a few chapters just to cover that scene. . . .man.