A/N: Ahaha. Long time no see everybody.
Long story short, this was an absolute pain to write. Several sections felt like pulling teeth, especially in trying to wrap them up a bit. In part, that's why it took so long. The other part of it is that the chapter went on for too long, and so I had to cut it in half.
Good news is then that the next chapter's pretty much done! I'll upload it September 4th :) For sure, this time, because it's actually complete.
Really quick, because these things have been rubbing me the wrong way:
To Anon #1: You likely won't see this, but I'd like to respond anyways. I admire your tenacity to get through 25 chapters of something you weren't enjoying! I also completely understand where you're coming from, because VA does have its problems. I'll take your thoughts into consideration! However, I do hope that you don't have a tendency to call fics 'drivel' and tell the author you're glad they haven't updated, simply because there are younger authors on this site, and saying things like that can be incredibly damaging. To be honest, it can be incredibly damaging to older authors as well, so if in the future you might be a touch kinder, that would be highly appreciated.
To Anon #2: Please don't ask that! It may, one day, come true that an author decides to wait a full year before updating because a reviewer asked if it'd take that long :) I understand that you might not have known that I was chipping away at the chapter, but I do post updates on both my tumblr (storiewriterkalyn) and on my author page!
To all the other reviews I haven't been able to respond to: Thank you so much! They really make me incredibly happy, and I can't deny that they motivate me to keep going! I hope you enjoy :D
Minor warning: Shura's POV shows medical side effects of wearing a binder; thanks to KaitheKid for bringing this to my attention
What happened a while back that's important now: the tl;dr
-Bon's dad, Tatsuma, got beaten by Todou, who then swallowed his familiar, Karura, whole, in order to steal his powers.
-Impure King is encroaching, and a lot of the effort is being devoted to keeping it at bay; there's a med encampment relatively close to that fight, which is where Fujimoto is.
-Our Esquire kids decided to ignore everybody telling them to stay behind and went out to look for Bon's dad by themselves.
-Shura and Angel got tasked with bringing anti-miasma whatever masks to that med encampment on the front line, but also to other areas.
-(not important to this chapter but) Yukio was an idiot and came across Todou. He decided not to contact anybody for help. What an idiot.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Die goldene Schutzhaube
(The Golden Barrier)
.
It was hot. An unbearable, muggy sort of hot that Bon thought he was used to, all those summers growing up in Kyōto: sun warm on his back, shirt stuck to his thin chest, toes digging into grass still cool from the morning. But now, pushing through the underbrush, climbing up the slope of the mountains he'd spent his childhood running over, he found that breath came more difficult. He felt as though he were suffocating under the folds of his shirt, his undershirt, his wrinkled exorcist dress pants.
"Anybody seen him yet?" Rin called from the front, his Nekomata perched on his head, sword in hand. Rin's shirt was so damp that you could see the ghost of the color of his skin where the fabric was clung to it. Somehow, though, he didn't look like he was breathing too hard. For a single, irrational moment, Bon wished that he was on whatever Rin was.
Then he remembered that—yeah, nevermind.
"No luck!" Neko called from the other side, voice strained. They'd run the first few minutes, and then quickly realized that attempting anything other than a steady walk was going to do them no favors.
A pause. Then, "No, but I've got—"
Bon groaned and stepped around a short bush. "Renzou!"
"I really will kill you," Kamiki said between pants. "We've got better things to do than—"
"Hey, is that a body?" Takumi said, loud and strained like it had cost him all his breath to speak, and they all staggered to a stop. Except for Rin, that goddamn machine. Bon looked in the direction Takumi was pointing, and squinted.
If it weren't for the moonlight, for the light pollution caused by the flames being rained upon the Impure King, he wouldn't have even seen that dumb, horribly familiar bald head, nearly obscured by grass. His chest clenched, hurt, and he squeezed the beads wrapped around his hand, his fingers.
"Dad?" he breathed, high and choked. And then he was off, pushing past Shiemi-san and Neko and not registering, almost not caring if everybody else followed, because that was his old man on the ground and he could see blood. He ran through the grass fast enough that if he were younger, bare-shinned, his skin would be burning, sweat dripping into paper-thin lacerations.
But he wasn't younger. He was sixteen and his Dad looked like he—
Bon dropped to his knees beside his father, hard, went to touch him and couldn't because what if he made it worse? His old man's face looked pale, the blood dark against his throat, against his throat, and Bon barely recognized the strangled, "No. No!" that pulled from his own.
"Shit," Rin said. "Fuck. I'll call the old man."
The fear was buzzing in his ears enough to drown everything else out, and he finally placed his fingertips on his Dad's arm. The fabric there was worn almost soft by use. It was in that moment, right as Shiemi-san and Takumi knelt by his Dad's head, that there was a burst of bright orange-red flame; flame warm enough that it had Bon reeling backwards, forearm up and over his face.
"What the?!" Renzou yelped, and even Kamiki let out a shrill squeak of surprise. Bon squinted, watched as the flames coalesced into a figure maybe the size of a small cat, wings for arms, a young, stern face between what looked like the open beak of a bird.
It opened its mouth, teeth too even, and spoke in a voice like bells rung before prayer. Bon felt himself relax almost on reflex, the vestiges of childhood and the comfort of devotions easing his heart. "I am Karura, servant of Myō-ō-Dharani Head Priests."
Then the figure's words registered. "Wha—you mean you're Dad's familiar?" Since when did his Dad have a familiar?
Karura let out a sigh that was more smoke than breath. "I was, but the secret was revealed, the contract broken—I now am connected with him through personal agreement alone."
"Personal—" Bon started to ask, but cut himself off when his father coughed and gurgled next to him. Shifting his attention to his old man, Bon felt another burst of fear at the sweat he could see on his father's face and the blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. "Dad!"
The fear was only soothed a little when his Dad's eyes opened a crack, then a little wider, hazy and confused. "I…what are you…"
Over to the side, Rin growled and snapped his phone shut. "Call won't go through. I don't even think he knows I tried."
"Suguro-hōshi," Shiemi-san said, "are you all right? I mean, you're not all right, that's clear, but—what hurts most?"
"And how the fuck are you not dead," Takumi said, already pulling bandages from his satchel. "Like, shit. You were stabbed in the throat. Do we even need to do anything with it, do you think?"
Shiemi-san placed both her hands on her cheeks and stared at his Dad's neck. "I don't—I don't know? Maybe?"
"I healed his wounds," Dad's familiar said. "But he is still weak."
"Karura?" His Dad murmured, at the same time Takumi asked if the bandages really weren't necessary anymore. "You're so small. I thought you'd—we'd died."
"Eyebrows! Is anything coming?" Rin asked, and Bon almost missed Karura's reply to his Dad.
"I am the immortal bird. I am always reborn. Furthermore, our agreement for the Aeon Wave stands; I will not allow your passing." The rhythm of its speaking was methodical, and Bon resisted the urge to sit in seiza.
"Nothing from what I could see—Konekomaru-san?"
"Nothing. Renzou-san?"
"Nothing yet. Holy shit it's hot, do we have to be out here?"
"The Aeon Wave Flame," Dad mumbled, and made to sit up. Immediately, Shiemi-san's hands were on his shoulders, gentle and firm.
"Please don't, Suguro-hōshi," she said. "You might not be dead, but it looks like you lost a lot of blood. What do you need?"
"I need to stop it. I have just enough flame to put up the barrier," Dad said, and tried to push himself back up despite Shiemi-san's efforts.
"What barrier?" Bon asked. "Aeon Wave Flame? What's that? What secrets are you keeping now?"
"Tatsuma, you cannot," Karura said, floating closer. "You are weak. The girl is right, you have lost too much blood to do so at the moment."
"Um, not meaning to worry anybody, but, like, I can see a bunch of creepy looking growth stuff up there?" Renzou said, and Bon looked up. Sure enough, through the gap in the trees, he saw the distant form of the Impure King, slowly expanding the longer he stared.
"That's a little too close," Rin said. "We should think about moving. Soon."
"No," Dad said. He pressed at Shiemi-san's hands just hard enough for her grip to break, and struggled to sit up. "I have just enough, Karura. Death is less important than making sure the sac doesn't—"
Bon pushed him back down less gently than Shiemi-san had. "Dad, listen to me! What are you talking about?"
His father blinked up at him, then shook his head. "I don't think you—"
Karura interrupted him. "Tatsuma's son? Are you of Tatsuma's lineage, child?"
"Karura—"
"Tatsuma, you are weak. You will not succeed in our venture; if this is your son, then we have a better chance at victory. We need the Aeon Wave Flame to work as well as it can in the circumstances."
Bon clenched his teeth and tried to push off the feeling of being ignored.
"I don't know how important this is, but do you think we can move out of the way a bit more? Talk and move, you know?" Rin said, crouching down next to them. On his head, his nekomata peered down at Dad and let out a short meow. "Kuro can probably carry your old man, Suguro, and stuff can be explained."
Karura set his sights on Rin, thin eyes unreadable and intense. The familiar didn't blink once, Bon realized suddenly.
"How would Kuro carry Ossama?" Neko asked, and Bon could hear a bit of a tremor in his friend's voice. "He's so small."
"Kuro, could you?" Rin asked, tilting his head and casting his eyes upwards. Kuro shifted with the motion, let out a trill of a purr, and jumped off Rin's head. Bon watched as the nekomata prowled a short distance away before turning to see them. His tails lashed once, twice, and then he squeezed his eyes shut. The air turned heavy for a fraction of a second—Bon blinked, and in the space of that moment Kuro had transformed from small to monstrously large, his head easily level with the underside of the canopy line.
"Holy shit, what the—" Renzou said, his staff jangling as he started.
Takumi swore behind Bon. "I swear I can't be surprised anymore and then—Okumura, what the fuck are you even?"
"Haven't we covered that already?" Kamiki drawled. "Anyways, I don't see what you are all so impressed with; it's common knowledge that the vast majority of nekomata are capable of transformations of this sort."
Rin just grinned and flashed Kuro a thumb's-up. "Nice! Hey, can you lay down so that we can get Bon's old man up there? Old man, you think you can sit upright?"
Kuro let out a deafening purr and laid down. Bon turned back in time to see his Dad close his eyes and let out a sigh. "You're quite the group of insolent brats, aren't you?"
"Tatsuma, time is of the essence." Karura broke in, light flaring as if to bring all attention to him. "Let us get on the Nekomata with your son so that I may explain. And, if my intuition is right, the other young man must head off with us."
Kamiki huffed and crossed her arms. "Which one is that? There's about four of them here."
"The one who the Nekomata has bonded with," Karura said. "It is slight, but there is fire about him, and fire is what is needed."
There was a long measure of silence. Bon felt his heartbeat in his ears, a dull undercurrent of sound against the oppressively hot air. In fact, he swore he could hear sounds he could only describe as unfolding, with peppercorns of static-like popping interspersed at irregular intervals.
"Me?" Rin said, eyes wide. He opened his mouth and looked like he was going to protest, or ask why. Then he grimaced, shook his head, and rolled his shoulders back. "Okay, fine, me, there's no time. I don't care what for. We've got to get out of here. Takumi, can you run fast enough, you think?"
Takumi laughed with just enough hysteria that the answer was clear before he spoke. "I barely made it up here and we weren't even running."
"Right. Everybody else? Other than Ryūji and the old man, I mean."
There was a chorus of 'yes'es of varying vigor and emotion. Bon side-eyed Shiemi-chan, the loudest, and had to tell himself that while she couldn't keep up so well with Rin and himself on their morning runs, she could certainly outpace Neko.
"Good. Takumi, you're with Bon and his old man on Neko. I'll run alongside so he doesn't get too pooped out. Everybody else, you'll have to follow after us."
"How will we know where you've gone?" Kamiki drawled, arms crossed and shoulders tight.
"I'll leave a trail!" Rin said, and flashed them a thumb's up. It took a few seconds for Bon to realize what he was insinuating.
"No," he said. "No, you are not leaving a trail of whatever kind of blue flame you can think of. You—don't talk, I'm talking—are an idiot if you think that'd be a good idea."
Rin scowled. "Why's that?"
"Because who knows who else's out there? And where?" Bon turned around, still on his knees, to carefully bring his dad up to a reclining position. "Oh yeah, smart idea, leave blue fire all over the place to freak people out more than they already are."
"Oh. Yeah." Rin said. He pursed his lips, then looked down at his hands. Fire flickered at his fingertips, once, twice, and then he clenched his hands in thought. Bon listened to the heat, the dull softness of spreading spores, and realized after a few seconds that he'd tensed up.
Rin looked up after a couple of moments and grinned. His right hand toyed with the sweatband on his wrist.
"I'll leave a trail," he said again. "Don't worry—now, let's go!"
When Rin turned around and his back was to them, Bon wondered exactly what kind of sign he was planning on leaving for the rest. But then, Takumi slid the Old Man's other arm over his shoulder, and they were standing. Moments later, his dad's body too hot against him, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, Bon was moving towards Kuro, and then they were climbing, and then they were on the nekomata, Takumi in front, Bon in back, the Old Man wedged in between them. One of Kuro's tails wrapped around them to hold them steady.
Bon looked up and out from his vantage point, fur coarse between his fingers, and felt the moment slow around him. He felt how each breath dragged in his chest, smelled sweat and something like rancid earth, heard silence and popping and the undercurrent of his heartbeat in his ears.
Above the trees, the Impure King loomed.
Shura wished she could wipe the sweat off her forehead without pushing the hood of her sweatshirt back and screwing their cover up. Or, though it'd be the same result if she did, her neck. Or her boobs. Damn her boobs were a pain sometimes—but at least they weren't hunks of silicone strapped to her chest like Angel had. She'd had to stop him from adjusting himself no less than five times in the past half hour as they distributed masks. "It's not ladylike," she hissed at him the first time, "and yer a girl who tries to be ladylike."
"You're one to talk," he'd muttered back, but had tried to follow her advice. Inevitably, however, he'd forgotten, and here they were, on the outskirts of a medical outpost, trudging towards the center of it to hand out the masks. She glanced at her companion and—
"Angelina," she hissed, her head aching from probably thre stress of keeping their cover. Angel stopped, hand halfway down his shirt, and swore under his breath. "If yer goin' to do that, then yer hold the fucking boxes."
"My…my breasts get in the way," Angel hissed back, somewhat muffled by his treated mask.
Shura opened her mouth to respond, then shut it when a few exorcists rushed past them through the grass, masks already strapped to their faces. She waited for them to get out of earshot, and then a couple of extra moments for good measure, before saying, "And you think mine don't? Suck it up, pretty boy."
"They're in a binder," Angel said under his breath, bowing his head absentmindedly to another pair of exorcists a ways off, his eyes lingering on the patient on the ground and the way they writhed, swollen face covered in boils that would undoubtedly scar. "They're flatter than usual."
"Yeah, and they're still in the way and it's that much harder to breathe, shitface," Shura said, the only thing keeping her upright and functional being years of conditioning. "It's the fucking worst."
"Fine, just—give me the boxes," Angel said, and he pulled them from her grip. Her front felt instantly cooler without the cardboard in the way, and she fanned herself with her hand a few times before grabbing the extra masks from Angel's hand.
"We'd be piss-poor fighters like this," she muttered. "Yer with yer dumb boobs, me with my dumb binder and oh my fucking shit let's just stop."
She listened for Angel to admonish her for her line of thought and the ugly swearing, but there was only relative silence and removed shouting on the verge of panic.
"Angelina?" She asked, after a few awkward beats. Shura looked up at him, saw him staring straight ahead with a stony expression, the strands of his hair plastered to his forehead, the side of his neck, trapped under the elastic band of his mask.
"If it gets too bad," Angel said, "you have my permission to disregard the mission."
Shura stopped. She watched Angel truck forward through the thick grass, his skirt swaying with his stride but otherwise hanging heavy in the heat, and in the dim light of the fires and camping lanterns dotting tables and scattered around the outpost he seemed lesser and darker than he'd ever been. When she glanced behind, there were two long furrows that extended and then blended into the darkness, the lights of the inn distant and insignificant.
"Angel?" She said, turning her attention to him, ignoring the increased frequency of oncoming exorcists. With luck, people around them would think she was using a nickname.
He stopped, looked over his shoulder, and jerked his head. She stumbled over her own feet, but moved up to stand next to him, head level with his shoulder.
"If it gets worse," he murmured, ducking his head so that he was closer to her ear, "then despite the importance of the mission, the lives of these people take precedence. We must not let the foul creature before us succeed in its dark pursuits."
Grimacing, Shura nodded. "Understood."
"Esquires? What are you doing out here? We've got a supply of masks already, it's dangerous—go back to the office!"
They looked up to see one of the Shima boys headed towards him, a scowl on his stupidly uncovered face and what looked like a permanent crease between his eyebrows. Shura thought he might be the eldest—his hair was still dark, at least.
"Sorry," she said, holding her hands up, careful to curl her fingers around the mask straps and trying to hide how hot she felt. "We didn't realize and wanted to help."
The Shima boy let out a sigh and rubbed his hand against the side of his forehead. The back of his hand, Shura noticed, was covered in minor boils and growths. He leaned against his shakujō, the end of it a flaming beacon of red, and looked at them again.
"Where's the rest of them, then?" He asked, at length. "My brother isn't one to do something stupid, but Bon is. Where are they?"
"That," Angel tittered, "is an excellent question."
"You mean you don't know where your fellow Esquires are?" The Shima boy—Kurozō, maybe? Kokuzō? The other was Kinzō and his hair was yellow, so maybe the color thing held true here—whatever his name was, frowned. "How the hell do you not know? You're in the same class, you're supposed to keep tabs on each other in emergencies!"
"Hey, take it easy on the newbies," another exorcist said in passing, her hair swept up into a haphazard bun. Shura bristled a little despite herself because she was the fucking opposite of a newbie, she'd been doing this kind of shit since birth and the exorcist was speaking up again, saying, "—certainly wasn't on greatest terms with everyone in my class, heaven knows. I don't know where half of them are today."
The Shima boy grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose, teeth bared in an open-lipped scowl.
"And I'm sorry to say this after you just got a break," the woman said, "but you're really nee—"
There was a flurry of motion up ahead, and Shura looked to see through the thin haze of smoke the swelling figure of the Impure King, closer than before. If she listened hard enough, she could hear screaming and yelling. She pursed her lips, and her fingers twitched to just reach under the sweatshirt and pull off the binder and run, run and do what she could even if it meant dying because what was the rest of her life, anyways?
"How am I supposed to leave when there are kids on the field? And holy shit woman, we've got a Doctor that hasn't reported in, we need to—"
And also getting the binder off would be balls amazing. She thought it might be trapping in the heat more than it usually did, and breathing was getting harder and harder despite her conditioning.
"Shima-san, we'll get to him when we can—right now, you're needed elsewhere! I can see to the Esquires if you need me to, but—"
Angel made a strangled sound at her side, and she shook those thoughts down to the back of her head, refocusing her attention on the figures. Just as many of the running ones were carrying another—over their shoulders, in their arms, slung between two—and she could hear snatches of hoarse yelling the closer they got.
"—really bad, where's the closest available—"
"It's all up his back, he can't breathe, please help—"
"Over here, I have room for two more! Two more, this way please, go—"
Shura swallowed, chest tight from more than just the binder. "Angelina," she said, quietly.
A short pause, then Angel shook his head. His jaw was clenched. Shura chewed at the inside of her cheek and narrowed her eyes at the expanding figure less than a kilometer away.
"And actually, as long as you guys are up here," the woman said, and Shura looked her in her brown eyes, "if you could help direct people to open medics—"
"I told you, that's a bad idea, they need to get to safety," Shima said, and while she hadn't been looking he'd drawn himself back up to his full height. "Here they'll be in the way of harm, they're just kids—"
"We can help," Shura blurted. "We can. It's not right that we're sittin' around, doin' nothin'."
They shuffled to the side to let the group of injured pass, and the smell of rot and decay and sweat on them made Shura shudder and gag a little. If she were really the kid they thought she was, she'd probably have felt sick enough to vomit.
"You heard the kids, Shima-san. They can help, and they'll be among the first to evacuate if things get that bad."
It was sweet, Shura thought, that this woman thought any of this particular class of Esquires would evacuate without pulling something dumb. She exchanged a glance with Angel, but didn't say anything; mouthing off would get them kicked back to safety.
Shura looked at the eldest Shima son, then pulled a mask from her bundle and extended it towards him. "If you're going back out, you'll need this."
He cleared his throat and took it, still frowning. "Yeah, thanks. I guess you can continue to distribute these masks to those who—"
"MEDIC!" a voice roared, loud enough to be heard over the white noise of the injured and the fighting. "WE NEED A DOCTOR STAT, ONE INJURED COMING THROUGH!"
It was familiar, and as Shura turned her head to the right, up the mountainside, she saw them. Rin, running, yelling at the top of his lungs and his sword unsheathed. Kuro, a pace ahead of him, figures on his own back. Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to—
To do what? Shura wondered. She was Yamada. Rin didn't know Yamada very well, aside from the whole 'love triangle' prank she'd pulled. She wondered if she couldn't try to ease the tension in the situation and get away from it, but as Rin came closer, and she saw the cast of his expression, she stowed that idea away for another day. If there was another day.
"What the f—"
"Wait," the woman said, tightly and with an edge of panic that hadn't been there before. "Wait, who's that on the nekomata's back?"
Shura focused on Kuro and tried to make sense of the figures on his back. It was hard to tell with how they were moving and the oddness of the lighting, but there were three there—she recognized Cocks-head with little difficulty, and Dreads was a bit harder to pin down but it made sense if they'd all run out on some stupid errand, but the one more or less lying down was unfamiliar.
Then their fire demon flitted closer to his face and even with the distance, Shura had only a heartbeat before Shima cursed and ran forward to realize that it was Tatsuma-san, the one who'd gone missing a full hour earlier. She dropped the masks—partly out of shock, but partly out of anticipation for her next order.
"Oh," the woman breathed, and stepped forward before glancing at them and pausing. "You two—drop the box, go get a Doctor, right now!"
Shura turned on the ball of her foot and was off, the thud of the box on the ground the only thing that told her Angel was following. He caught up to her quickly, her lungs and sides and chest already burning from the binder and from exertion. She couldn't breathe but shallowly, and her breath was so hot and confined in the mask that she was almost ready to rip it off.
She didn't realize that they'd stopped until Angel's hand was on her back as she stood with her hands on her knees, mouth wide open to pull in as much air as possible.
"Yamada-kun," he asked, his falsetto a little deep, "what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Can't—" Shura gasped and grasped the layers of fabric over her chest, pulling at them with no relief. "Breathe. Can't."
"Shit," Angel said, and leaned in closer. "Are you infected? Is it the binder? What's wrong?"
"Binder," she said under what little breath she had. She bent over further, arching her back like it would help her breathe even though she was fairly sure that's not how it worked.
"Okay." He slid the one hand down to the small of her back, and then used the other to tug her up until she was upright. Some of the pressure eased, but it was still hard to breathe. She couldn't do it right.
"Shura," Angel said, and she realized that he was prying her fingers from the fabric on her chest. She didn't hear anybody else, so nobody must have noticed her pitiful attempt at running. "Shura, stay here. I'll come back with a Doctor."
"Get Sh—" She gasped in a breath of air and somehow had enough presence of mind to change what she was going to say. "Paladin. Get him. Please."
Shura expected him to disagree, say that more contact with a suspect than necessary would only compromise their mission integrity, but he was silent. She watched, through somewhat unsteady vision, as he nodded and stepped away.
"I will," he said, and then he turned around and slid into a run, his feet pounding the earth. Somehow that was funny—this man who tried to be so graceful, so elegant, couldn't stop himself from hitting the ground hard when he ran.
She tried to laugh. It took up too much breath, so she stopped and stood there, staring up at the black night sky, and tried to breathe.
That's right, she thought as she traced constellations with her eyes. That's why she lost to Angel during the camp; she'd been wearing her binder, and it had become too difficult to breathe. She'd lost time taking it off just enough to continue on, and had missed Angel getting to the lantern just enough that he ended up carrying it further. She was so stupid, making the same mistake.
Shura was observing the curve of the moon, red with atmospheric haze, when she wondered what she was doing this for. The binder wasn't so bad as long as she remembered to take it off after classes, and if she didn't exercise during class (which she didn't). But now, when she was needed most, why was she wearing it?
Her fingers toyed with the bottom of her sweatshirt.
"Yamada-kun? Yamada-kun, are you all right?"
She tightened her grip, imagined herself pulling up and over her head and then getting rid of that stupid stupid stupid binder. Then she closed her eyes, still feeling like her skin was on fire with how hot it was, and relaxed.
"I'm okay. Out of breath," she managed, opening her eyes to see Shirou right in front of her, the glint of light off his glasses making his eyes hard to read. "Fine. Tatsuma—"
"Angelina-kun explained," he said, and then looked over at Angel who was behind him. She hated that he was barely red-faced, and that even that could be the lighting. "Can you run?"
She actually did laugh this time. Raising her eyebrows, she looked up at Fujimoto to ask what kind of condition he thought Yamada was in to run when she felt pressure at the backs of her knees and across the back of her shoulders and suddenly she was lifted up, staring wide-eyed at Shirō.
"Right, let's go," he said, and they were moving, slower than she knew Shirou and Angel could but faster than she felt she could have managed at the moment.
He was hot against her side, fingers digging a little into her shoulders, and she could smell his sweat and damn be had some serious body odor. But damn if her heart didn't flutter just a little bit, even if she knew that she'd never actually pursue him. He'd made it clear a while ago that he wasn't interested.
"Okumura-kun is just over—"
"That hill, got it," Shirou said. "Who else is with him?"
"Suguro-kun and Hisoragi-kun," Angel said. Shura closed her eyes and focused on pulling her heartbeat back under control—maybe that would help with the heat. It had to help with the heat. "I didn't see the others."
"You did well getting me," Shirou said. She didn't know if it was her imagination or not, but it felt like he pulled her closer to him. "Thank you."
She wished he'd let her go. She wanted to be closer. She didn't know what to think. It was too hot. In fact, she said as much that it was the case. Her voice felt quiet and weak and that was wrong, she was strong, she was strong like the god Hachirotaro wanted her to be. Strong. Beautiful. Young.
Childless.
Good, she thought. Her heartbeat stuttered in her ears, still rapid-fire pace, fast enough that she could feel what few years she had left dripping away.
"Don't worry, we'll get some water and a safe place for you to get out of the way," Shirou said. "If I have to, I'll do it myself."
Why bother saving her? She thought, feverishly, remembering her curse. Her thirty years were almost up and she still had no child. Didn't want a child. Wouldn't curse another descendant of the Kirigakure line to live a life like hers. Thirty years. Thirty years. She should just die. If it was protecting those she loved, then—
"There they are," Angel said, and Shura opened her eyes to look for Rin and Kuro. It took her a moment to focus, head throbbing and vision a little blurry, but she could see them soon enough.
"—some response stuff. Stopped the bleeding, cleaned the wound, shi—stuff like that. Um, he's lost a lot of blood and I don't know what type he is, can we do a transfusion or something like that?" That was Dreads, all right. She hadn't realized that he'd been doing so well with his Doctor training. Huh. She blinked, and it took effort to open her eyes again. She felt sluggish, tight, and she itched to pull the binder off. Maybe she would.
"He's type B," Shirou said, and he crouched to set Shura in the tamped-down grass. It shifted, rustled, tore under the weight of her. She struggled to remain sitting upright. "We can get a transfusion if anybody here is B positive or O."
"I am," Black-Haired-Shima said from where he was crouching next to Tatsuma-san. "I'm O, I'm a universal donor, take my blood."
"You're needed on the battlefield, idiot," the woman they'd run into earlier hissed. "Ossama needs blood but you need to be out there with your flaming staff—we've got little fire as it is! Get out there already!"
"If I'm the only one with O blood, then he needs me," Shima growled.
"Sh—Yamada?" Rin exclaimed, and fuck he'd taken a long time to realize she was there. He should have better spatial awareness than that. "What's—what's wrong with him? Did he get infected? Is he okay?"
"He'll be fine," Shirou said, and he moved in front of her. "Akiyama-san brings up a good point, Shima-san. Is there anyone else here who has type O or type B blood?"
A pause, several heartbeats and rough breaths. She realized, suddenly, that Cocks-head was there—why wasn't he speaking up, the loudmouth? Did he really hate his dad that much? She looked up at him, saw the furrow between his eyebrows. Looked a lot like worry to her, but maybe she was wrong. She was out of it anyways.
The silence continued. Then, Angel: "I'm B negative."
"Oh thank God," the woman—Akiyama-san?—blurted. "I thought I'd have to let Shima-san get his way. Okay, Shima-san, you need to go."
"But she's just a—"
"Yes, I am," Angel snapped. "Which is why you need to get out there right now and let me take care of this!"
Shura's eyes went wide, and she swore that the heat radiating off her skin stopped for a full second. She'd never heard Angel admit to something so false before, admit that he might be needed somewhere other than a fight. For a moment, she seriously considered that she might have actually died.
Then the fire returned to her skin, and she was acutely aware of the drying sweat under her arms, on the back of her neck, on her nose. She breathed through her mouth: thin, shallow breaths, hot and dry enough that her lips scraped together when she closed them to swallow. Her head throbbed. Sound fuzzed in and out of focus. She was at standstill, but around her, people sprang into action.
"Thank you, Octavian-ku….here, Hisoragi-kun, this will b…you, sit down please. Are you experiencing any...ike dizziness, headaches…no sweat?"
"No," Angel said. "How will…my ability to help?"
Shura tried to focus on blade of grass in front of her, the chipped edge and the discoloration around the tear. Maybe that would help her listen. Knowing what was happening would help. She could help.
"Donating blood usually requires several weeks to…and water, though the water might take just a couple…should only run light errands and not actually enter…be dizzy after the transfusion. We're not doing this under the best circum…" Between the words was white noise and sometimes the vaguely discernable sound of plastic ripping and seals on packages being broken.
Shura's vision doubled, and it took her longer than comfortable to refocus. There was a jump in conversation in that time, and she wasn't able to gather anything. A pit grew in the bottom of her stomach, and she shivered despite feeling overcooked.
"Good, thanks Oct….ou dumbass, we need to go," Cocks-head said. "Takumi, you okay?"
Dreadlocks laughed, an edge to his voice, but made no other comment. Shura closed her eyes, slowly shut her jaw to grit her teeth. She would be fine if maybe she thought of ice, of cold—maybe even of Hachirotaro, his unfeeling gaze and his demands of more, more, more. She could do more. Had to do more. Sucking a breath in, she started to try centering herself in order to get up.
She felt more than heard the grass rustle in front of her. A hand was put on her shoulder, and something brushed against her leg. Shura opened her eyes long enough to see Rin, then shut them and didn't say anything. Center. Control.
"You okay?" He asked, and she could practically smell the worry coming off of him, though maybe that was just sweat. Probably just sweat and her overactive brain supplementing shit.
"Yeah. Bit hot. Bit tight. 'kay though." Shura grinned a little. Her mouth felt stale. She stopped smiling, tried to focus. It was like holding smoke, or mist in early-morning fall.
"Why're your eyes closed then?" And fuck it if he didn't have a little of his old man in that tone there, even with the odd way sound was behaving.
"Just a bit tired. M'kay."
He moved closer so that he could whisper into her ear, and wow okay he reeked. She snorted and leaned away, cracking one eye open just enough to glare at him, but he was too close to actually see.
"Shura-sensei," he murmured, and took in another breath to continue when Cocks-head appeared behind him, moving like he was going to grip the back of Rin's collar and pull him off but aborting mid-swing to set his hand on Rin's shoulder. Rin tensed for a split second, but relaxed the instant later.
"Rin. We need to go."
The flame demon appeared over Cocks-head's shoulder, tiny form not instilling a lot of hope in Shura. "Young Suguro is correct. We need to make…time may be wasted."
Rin paused, then let out a breath that was oddly lukewarm against her ear and leaned back. His brow was furrowed, his lips pursed, but she watched as he looked her over, again and again, until he grimaced and stood back up.
"Dad'll take care of him. You're right," he told Cocks-head, turning his head towards to the right and focusing on something in the distance. "Let's go. Kuro!"
He was holding the sword in his right hand still, Shura noticed. His left was clenching the front of his T-shirt, right under his collarbone. She blinked for what felt like a second, but must have been longer because Rin and Cocks-head weren't there anymore and she was staring at the smoky red sky, lips cracked open and her heartbeat drumming in her ears, her neck, the tips of her fingers curled against dry blades of grass.
Her breaths came too shallow, herb-tinged as they were from the mask, and her vision blackened at the edges, and she thought that maybe she was going to die after all. It was hollow for some odd reason, unlike the vicious satisfaction she'd imagined it with, and the sight of Rin clutching his shirt kept at her and at her and at her until she went under to dreams of cool water and the ice of the north.
Rin did his best to coat Tsunagari in a thin veneer of flames that didn't stand out. Hopefully, if anybody saw the blue, they'd just think it was trick of the light and metal and something. He thought about the necklace under his shirt. I won't need it, he told himself.
"So this is the plan, right?" Rin said, leaning over on Kuro's back to eliminate the closest cluster of spores. "We go in, find a patch of ground, have Suguro do his chanty thing while Neko and I keep bad shit off his back, and we win, right?"
Suguro didn't respond. Then again, Suguro was busy screaming and muttering prayers every time Neko bound from spot to spot.
"Simply put, but generally correct," Karura said. "Suguro Ryuuji must have a solid connection with the earth in order to form a base for the purifying shield. He will be vulnerable during this time, as I am not strong enough to protect him and allow him my power to destroy the Impure King simultaneously."
Kuro touched down on a clear spot and then leapt again, paws barely escaping the reach of inflating pustules of infection. Together, the spores were taking on the shape of something like a building, something old-timey Western. With knights and stuff.
"It almost looks like a palace now," he remarked, sitting up higher to slice through a couple more growths, which burst into ash and fluttered down behind them.
"This is bad," Suguro managed to get out. "This is really really bad, isn't this one of the last forms of the Impure King we were told about? Like, before the actual body finishes incubating? Isn't this end times?"
"Um," Rin said, Kuro's shoulders rippling underneath him. He thought back to the briefing. "Did they tell us that after going over the general safety junk?"
Suguro gave a strangled 'yes' as Kuro suddenly veered right to avoid the gloopy growths that tried to reach for him.
"Oh. No wonder. Sorry, I zoned out there." Rin gave a small laugh and scratched at the back of his neck. "Bad habit. I already knew all that stuff, so I didn't listen."
Kuro leapt onto one of the parapets and began to sprint, paws reaching out further than Rin thought they could. He yowled something.
"Oh, sorry Kuro, I wasn't concentrating—say it again?"
"You can talk with it?" Suguro screeched from behind him.
The nekomata let out another plaintive yowl and crouched to leap up to the next, thinner parapet. Rin pushed his lips together.
"Oh, they're following us! Well duh, I could have figured that—" Kuro let out a growl. "I'm sorry, I know, thank you for carrying us into this dangerous situation, and yes it stinks to me too don't worry."
Kuro was being a little unreasonable, Rin thought. He was still adorable about it, but unreasonable nonetheless.
"It's definitely end times," Suguro yelled. At a movement in the corner of his eye, Rin twisted Tsunagari around in his hand so that the butt of the hilt faced forward and shoved it backwards, the thin veneer of flames latching onto the skin of the center of the blob reaching for them. The membrane dissolved into thin ash, and the gas inside lit up a brief, brilliant blue.
Rin winced, but turned his attention back to Suguro. "Why?"
"Look at that spore sac! Up there! That's like, the incubator for the Impure King's actual body."
Rin turned his head. By the tallest skyscraper-traditional Japanese tower hybrid, there was a large sphere of pale yellow that shimmered in a light of its own making. It was held up by goopy structures thin and spindly, that didn't seem like they'd support the weight of the sphere but oh well.
"We need to go up close to it, right?" Rin asked.
"Probably," Suguro said, and then yelled a little when Kuro did more evasive maneuvers, heading up every opportunity he had. "We'll want to contain it espe—ooooh no what is Kuro doing, he'd better not be—"
Rin! I….spot….on!
Kuro leapt. Rin looked down, at the spores and waving fungi appendages, and saw glorious grey of the boulder in the sickly yellow-white sea of the Impure King.
He grinned. They reached the apex of their jump. "I think Kuro found a spot!"
Ear twitching, Kuro looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide. Behind…lly fast!
Looking up, Rin saw the onslaught of attacking growths—dozens and dozens of them, shooting down with a speed that made a twinge of fear appear in Rin's heart.
"Like hell!" Rin yelled, and jumped up, sword gripped in both hands and down to the left. He couldn't do anything flashy, not like his slashing flame attack, but he could at least get through the majority of them. Suguro depended on him.
Actually, Rin thought as he flew towards the attack, everybody depended on him. On them. He thought of the people down there, of Shura-sensei unable to breathe, of his father's tight face, of his friends and Yukio and if they died and left him alone, he didn't know what he'd do. Rin grit his teeth, and slashed Tsunagari out.
Tsunagari sang. The runes lit up brilliant white-blue. Rin's eyes widened, and he only just remembered to squeeze them shut before a blinding flash lit up the backs of his eyelids in pale reds.
When Rin opened his eyes again, fuzzy spots in his vision, he was beginning to fall. Above them, where there had been an inescapable drove of growths, there was nothing. His grin stretched across his face, and he let out a cackle.
"I'd almost forgotten about that," he yelled, twisting mid-air so that he'd land on his feet. It'd be bad for his knees, but there wasn't a lot of space blow to roll.
Suguro yelled back up at him. "What the hell was—you know what, nevermind, we've got to get this going."
Rin dropped onto the boulder right next to Kuro, grin still on his face. They might actually be able to do this. They might actually win. He stood, then shifted his weight to the balls of his feet even if it did make his shins ache a little.
"You concentrate on your incantation mumbo jumbo," Rin said, and ignored Suguro's muttering. "Kuro and I'll keep these things off your back!"
"And my front, please," Suguro said. Rin turned around right as Karura floated from his perch in Suguro's ridiculously cool hair.
"Just start on that barrier, princess!" Rin said over his shoulder, and shifted his grip on Tsunagari.
Behind him, Suguro spluttered. "Wha—who's the princess here, you dumbass? You're the one practically shaking with fear!"
"Better than screaming with it!" Rin said. Whoops, he kind of was shaking—maybe it was the adrenaline. "What an unrefined princess you are, Suguro-hime!"
"Oh shaddup and let me concentrate, you uncouth heathen!"
"Guess that's right," Rin said, and looked back at Suguro. He chewed the words over, then then let them out in a fit of good humor. "After all, I am Satan's offspring."
Suguro groaned. "Just—go already, you idiot!"
Kuro bumped Rin with his side, and Rin let out another laugh. He had Tsunagari's secret weapon, Kuro at his side, and a golden idiot behind him. The only other thing he could ask for was Yukio at his back. He pushed that thought away, because Yukio was fine, was undoubtedly safer than he was.
"Let's do this!" Rin yelled, heart bright with hope, and leapt forward as Suguro began to chant.
They could do it. They would do it. They would win.
Tsunagari sang in his hands.
A/N: Couple of research note things!
1) Shura's binder:
Oh my god do not do what Shura did. If you ever wear a binder, don't do heavy exercise in it especially on warm days. Binders restrict lung expansion and trap heat. If you need to exercise, please wear a sports bra or two instead of a binder.
Also, I believe I may have had Shura wrapping with bandages earlier in VA, simply because that's what happened in the manga/anime-do not do not do NOT do this, this can be incredibly damaging.
2) Why Shura was Out Of It:
Shura, due to the heat and the exercise and her binder, is suffering a heat stroke. I tried to put the symptoms in there (not sweating, slurred/chopped speech, rapid breathing and heartbeat, etc), but they're not remarked upon because she's out of it. They're not treating her right just yet, but I endeavor to set that as right as I can in chapter 28.
If you have any questions, just let me know!