Okay, here is my first X
fanfiction. I don't know anything about Tokyo, so forgive me for making up
places and situations that are impossible. Also, I'm not English, so maybe there
are some mistakes in the language. Sorry. Hope you'll enjoy my fic anyway. It's
pretty dark though, so…be careful. Everybody belongs to CLAMP, no infringement
meant…etc, etc. Please R&R!
Chameleon
Chameleon@freeler.nl
END
Prologue
Sakurazukamori Seishirou lifted his head, breathing in deeply. As usual,
sakura petals drifted around him in the non-existing breeze, then fell on his
shoulders and on the heaving back of the person half-kneeling, half-lying in
front of him. Seishirou paid him no attention, knowing the other was unable to
pose a threat for the moment. It was the Perfect Moment. He felt like lighting
a cigarette, and, after a quick thought and a shake of his shoulders, did so.
The smoke mingled with the dust in the air.
He was standing on top of a half-collapsed building, he and that other
person, and he had a perfect view of the rest of the place where once one of
the strongest kekkais had stood. To the right of him there had been a battle
between water and fire, but it seemed to have ended now. Below him, two figures
were fighting, one with a sword, the other with what looked like… scarves. He
recognized Nataku and the girl from Ise, and decided that she was winning. He
could not see depth very well with his single eye, but it appeared the creature
was stumbling, one hand pulled close to its body; as it moved, dark red
spluttered on the rubble. He was surprised the Kansai boy was not with her—he
usually hung around her as if glued to her side—until he made out a crumpled shape
under a piece of debris quite near the girl. So he had stayed with her until
the end. Touching. He exhaled a lungful of smoke, smiling happily. They were
all here, dead or alive, and it seemed this was the final battle. Not quite so
near two huge power fields interacted; that had to be an inter-Kamui-fight. He
chuckled, wondering who would win. The Kamui of the dragons of earth was older,
colder, with an understanding of his power born when his personality shifted.
It was likely he would win. The younger Kamui was inexperienced, traumatized,
weak even, but that had not kept him from surviving this long, and his jumbled
feelings of hate mixed with compassion were a potent source of power. He was a
lot like Subaru.
Seishirou tipped ash from his cigarette and looked down on the slight,
half-conscious figure in front of him. Subaru, head of the Sumeragi clan, was
defeated. He bled from numerous cuts, one on his forehead painted half of his
face crimson. As he stood still and listened, Seishirou could hear the young
man's rasping pants for air above the rumbling of the earth and collapsing
flats, the screaming, far down below, of the dying and fleeing people, the
crackles of power coming from the fight in the sky.
"So this is the end, Subaru-kun." The Onmyouji did not respond, but his
eyes rolled up, even as his head remained bowed, to look at the Sakurazukamori.
His right eye was a mirror of Seishirou's, or would be, if he were allowed to
live. Now the white was stained with red, and the dust made it tear viciously.
The other eye, however, was steady and calm as usual. There was little chance
of him saying something dramatic, and Seishirou nodded to himself. "Farewell,
Subaru-kun." He raised his right first into the air as he, with his left hand,
gently took the younger man's shoulder to expose his chest, and he pressed him
backwards, opening himself to the sakura tree…
"No, Sei-san,"
a flash of a hand
a black tide of pure power
the white of an ofuda
screaming, screaming, screaming!
Subaru threw his last defense with a whispered command. It was more a
desperate attempt than an attack, and he did not think it would even buy him
time, but when his sight flicked to the Sakurazukamori's face he saw to his
disbelief that the man's mouth was hanging open, his pupil dilated, eyes
unseeing. In earlier times, Subaru might have felt anxiety steeling down on
him, not for himself but for Seishirou, the man he had loved and perhaps still
loved. Now, the love did not weigh up against his understanding and the will to
live. Without questioning 'why', he willed the ofuda into its usual bird form,
made it attack. Paper wings flung it against its target's chest, paper claws
and a paper beak, sharp as razors tore through an already tattered suit,
reached flesh.
What is wrong with him?
Screaming, screaming, a deafening
cacophony of voices—no, one voice, made up from many voices. Screaming,
screaming in his head, screaming away the power
Seishirou snapped back to consciousness when the shikigami's claws
scratched over his ribs. Without a thought he made the bird disappear, shaking
his head to clear the humming in his ears.
What…?
The sound was gone, leaving only echoes. He was still standing, hunched
over with one hand against his side, the other outstretched in command. Shreds of
paper clung between his fingers. When he moved, a sharp pain shot through his
side, and when he touched his shirt his fingers came away wet. His gaze went to
Subaru, huddled in front of him with his arm held tightly to his chest with his
elbow—yes, he broke that with his second attack—and half a dozen slightly
stained ofudas between his fingers.
"What now, Seishirou-san?" his voice was hoarse but filled with
suspicion. "More games? I thought you were tired of games. You said so when we
met, this morning." Seishirou carefully kept his face devoid of emotions, but
when he straightened up he had to bite his teeth to keep from wincing. He was hurt,
he realized with what ordinarily would have been amusement, but now was not.
The pain surprised him, but what truly worried him was how the bird could have
gotten through to him. It was such a simple, weak attack—even at his weakest he
could have easily disintegrated it, but…he had not even seen it coming. He had
not even been there! Something was wrong. This could not be a backlash, not
yet.
"No games," he replied with cold, smiling lips. It had to have been a
spell, but not cast by Subaru; he was not experienced or daring enough to
invent such a thing. "After all, our bet ended long ago." With a jump that
belied his injury he pounced on Subaru, two fingers in front of his nose in the
sign of the root, the other fanning out in a spell of death…
It was as if his head exploded.
Instead of trapping the younger man under his body, he merely unbalanced
him and they crashed to the floor together.
"Nooo!" the Onmiyouji yelled, kicked Seishirou from him, rolled away
from him. But the Sakurazukamori's spell dissipated into the dust, harmless. He
was up in seconds, one hand pressed against his side, the other still held in a
lazy sort of root position, but he did not try to resume his assault. For the
first time, Sumeragi Subaru saw an expression different than pleasantness on
Seishirou's face. Fear.
It was a strange feeling, to be afraid. Not an emotion that could rule
his thoughts, but strong enough to make him consider his position. As soon as
he released the power the screaming subsided, but it made it impossible for him
to use any form of spell. In other words, he was helpless. He almost laughed
out loud at that. Helpless! He, Sakurazukamori! But with all his vanity and
self-confidence, Seishirou knew when to retreat. His self-preservation was
stronger than his pride, no matter how bad it tasted to swallow it now. Even
without his powers he might be stronger than Subaru—he was heavier, older, more
experienced—but not now. The shiki probably snapped his rib with that stupid
little attack—stupid, stupid! Without thinking he held out his hand for the
spirit-hawk
screaming, screaming
and he stumbled, slammed down hard on his knees, frantically breaking
the link with the tree. Even it's gentle query for blood was drowned in the
howling voice, and it rendered him worse than weak. It made him uncertain.
"Seishirou-san?" In the ashen expressionless ness of his face,
Seishirou's single brown eye burned with something Subaru could not place.
Despite all that had happened, he still hesitated, the ofudas quivering between
his fingers. What was the man up to? Why did he not finish him off? Why…
"Something seems to have broken up our meeting, Subaru-kun," the
Sakurazukamori said slowly as he pushed himself up from the ground. He halted
his movement for a moment to brush at his knees where his trousers had become
dusty, a rather hopeless gesture since they were both completely grey with it,
and began to move backwards.
"What?" Seishirou flashed him a grin that was, though crooked with pain,
still as charming as ever. "Are you…you are running away?"
"My dear Subaru-kun, did I not tell you that a gentleman never runs?" A
bit of blood dripped on his shoe when he moved, and his jaw tightened. Subaru
could only gape.
He IS running! he realized, and suddenly he felt it was wrong, that
it should end now, here, that he could not live for one day longer without
knowing who won, and he screamed, "NO, you won't! I won't let you go like
this!"
"O yes," Seishirou said, "You most definitely will." The next moment he
was gone. Not the steady, mysterious falling-apart-in-sakura-petals but a wild
whirl of a reddish pink; all that Subaru grasped as he bounded forward was air.
"No! I refuse to let it end this way! Where are you! Reveal yourself and
fight me, damn it! Fight me!" The answer did not come from within his kekkai,
where Seishirou—already physical again, pressing his hands against his head—hid
somewhere in the collapsed building, but from the air around it. Somebody was
powering up, high above the rest, the whole city was shaking with it.
Kamui…He only had a second to feel his hair stand up with electricity before
the flash came, blinding him completely with its light, then drowning his
terrified shriek of denial in an all-consuming explosion. He was conscious long
enough to feel it tear his shield apart, and for a moment he thought he could
see Seishirou staring back at him, wide-eyed with shock, but then he was swept
away and all that was left was silence.
1
Arashi awoke in stages. First she was aware, then she noticed that she was
aware, but it took her a long time before she finally really left sleep. Maybe,
she thought, because all was calm and white in her dreams—because there were no
dreams, only whiteness. She was a priestess, though, and she was trained to
fight, if not with her body, then with her mind, and she was not doing a great
job of it at the moment. Her eyes were difficult to open, almost as if her body
had forgotten how to do it.
"But I can't have been out that long…" She started at her own, raspy
voice, but immediately drew strength from it too. She could talk, and now her
eyes were open she could see too. She was looking at a ceiling, at a crack in
pale-yellow panels. "But the ceiling won't tell me anything," she chided
herself. "Where am I? Is this a hospital? Where is…" It came back to her with a
cracking pain in her head, and she shut her eyes with a moan. Sorata…dead.
Nataku, dead. Yuuto? Yuzuriha, dead. What about the Sumeragi? Or Karen? Aoki? Kamui!? Before she was aware of it she
was sitting straight up, ignoring the pain that blossomed in her back and her
face, to search for faces…persons…
Her bed was the second of a long row in a
severely crowded room. There must be more than a hundred people lying there, in
various states of injury. There was a man next to her, with blonde hair and a
bruised, swollen face; she did not know him. Next to him lay a black woman, and
after her came a young girl with both her legs in casts hanging from the
ceiling…then, she had to strain now, another man, and another, but nobody she
knew, nobody at all…On the other side there was a second row of beds, and she
squinted through the pain in her head, but saw none of her friends.
They are dead, all of them, she thought, sagging back into her pillow. I
am the only one left. The explosion…but how did I get here? Suddenly too
tired to try to ask someone, she tried to think. Her memory was hazy from the
point that Sorata died. She did not even know what had happened; Nataku
probably cast some sort of spell for she remembered a blinding flash and then a
jerk at one of her arms, a push, the rough sound of her breathing as she sat on
the floor with bruised and scraped knees, Sorata's face, so very serious all of
a sudden, and so white…
He pushed me out of the way when Nataku made the wall collapse, and he
could not save himself. He died for me, just as he wanted. And I always thought
that he…that he was wasn't serious…or that it would be another he would die for
in the end. Sora-chan…She squeezed her eyes closed, not because she did not
want to cry for him but because it was too early to cry now. First she had to
know what had happened—if she began to grieve now, she would probably not stop
until she died herself. What happened? It must have been Kamui, causing that
explosion. My shields cracked, I remember that. And falling…my face. She
touched her cheek, met only bandages. When she pressed a bit harder there was
pain, but it was just as hazy as her thoughts. They drugged me. It
probably was for the best anyway. The bandage ran all the way around her head,
but left most of her hair free. Her other cheek was likewise swathed with
cotton pads, but her nose was free. When she rubbed the bridge of her nose skin
flaked off as if she had a bad case of sunburn. It's probably worse than it
seems now, but still not life-threateningly. So what happened after the
explosion? I fell, yes, and there must have been someone who took me to this
place…wait, there was somebody…somebody like us, but not a Seal. That big guy,
what's his name. I knew him when I saw him, but now I can't remember his name.
He must have saved me. But why? And where is he now?
While she lay thinking, a soft movement made her bed squeak, causing her
to open her eyes. A tired-looking man in a white coat looked from her chart to
her, smiled reassuringly when he noticed she was awake.
"Good afternoon miss. How do you feel?"
"Hazy," Arashi replied truthfully. She hesitated, then asked for her
friends. "A young boy with violet eyes called Kamui, and…no, she is dead…Kasumi
Karen? She's a beautiful woman with jaw-length blonde hair…and Aoki? Somewhere
in his mid-thirties, brown hair, brown eyes? Have you seen them somewhere?" The
doctor shrugged helplessly.
"This hospital is packed, miss. There are a hundred young boys and men
and women. Of most I don't even know the name. The explosion ruined half of the
city—not to mention killed more than half of it."
"Half of the city…"Arashi whispered. He nodded.
"You were lucky to survive, and to be close enough to this place to get
a bed."
"Where am I then?"
"Kamakura Hospital. But if you'll excuse me, I have…"
"Wait!" she struggled to grip his sleeve, and he stopped. "Please, try
to remember. There is another one of my friends…please! His name is Sumeragi
Subaru, and he has green eyes—one eye, actually—black hair, fair skin, about
twenty-five years old. Someone must be alive! Someone has to be alive! It has
to be!" She was crying now; the doctor awkwardly patted her shoulder.
"Sumeragi. I know the name, at least, it sounds familiar. I will look
out for him, I promise. But I really have to go now. There is nothing more I
can do. I will come back later."
"Thank you," Arashi mumbled. He disappeared, leaving her alone with her
cloudy memories before she fell into a fitful sleep.
*
Seishirou sat on the black leather couch for a long time, resting,
gathering his strength. He did not wonder about why he was still alive, or why
it was that he could still fly when all his other abilities were blocked by the
screaming of the tree. He simply sat, staring at the crater that had once been
Tokyo, and silently thanked Hinoto for shielding this building. At least, he
though it was Hinoto's kekkai. It could also be just a stroke of luck.
Seishirou did not believe in luck.
When the explosion struck, all the successive kekkais the Seals had cast
burst. Some sooner than others, which was why he was still alive and not a
bloody heap on the pavement. Subaru's shield was the last one to break,
trapping him there almost in the heart of the blast, until finally even the
Onmyouji lost consciousness or died, and Seishirou had been able to make a run
for it. If the tree had been screaming then, he could not remember, but it did
not matter anyway. He was safe here, in this half-standing flat, in this
apartment that had hardly suffered from the blow. Somewhere in the hall,
somebody was moaning, but he paid it no attention. First it was time to do
something about his own injuries.
And then we'll have a look at you, my partner. See what is wrong with
you.
He rose from the couch, wincing. On one side his shirt was soaked with blood,
and although he was sure it was not a serious wound it was enough to disturb
his usual equilibrium. You really surprised me, Subaru-kun. You tend to do
that more often—though usually in a more pleasant way. A man lay groaning
in the hall, buried beneath a heavy cupboard. Seishirou carefully walked around
him in search for the bathroom. It was caved in, and he pursed his lips in
annoyance. Retracing his steps, he tried the front door, opened it and walked
into the corridor. The elevator door had cracked and lay in the middle of the
corridor but the elevator still seemed to be hanging where it should be, and
when he pushed the button a rattling hum proved that it was even working. He
smiled, then turned and faced the front door of his new neighbour. Thankfully
he did not have to kick it in; it fell out of its hinges when he only touched
the handle.
As he entered, Seishirou noticed that this apartment was in a far worse
state than the one he had acquired for his own. He had to fight his way through
a mountain of rubble in the hall, the sitting room was completely gone—but the
bedroom was still relatively accessible, and so was the bathroom. This had been
a neat, bourgeois family, he decided when he checked the contends of cupboards
and cabinets. There were two new tooth brushes, plasters, a tube of tooth
paste, tape, iodine, bandages, sterile cotton in plastic, aspirin, a whole lot
of pills, salves and powders for various aches and itches, a set of pincers and
a pair of small scissors. He dumped the whole load on the bed, picking out what
he thought he would need. It was a pity there was no sterilizing alcohol, but
he would just have to do without it, or have a look in his new home's liquor
closet.
When he tugged out his shirt, the cloth stuck to his wound, and he
hissed in pain when he pulled it loose. A thin stream of fresh blood trickled
on his already soiled trousers before he caught it with a wad of sterilized
cotton.
And a good shot it was too, Subaru. Not too big, but very deep. You made
me lose quite a lot of blood. How unlike you to actually hurt me. Luckily he knew
what to do with wounds like this, although he was used to treat them on
animals, not humans and certainly not himself. It was a long time since he had
been injured in any way. Making sure his hands were as clean as possible, he
cleansed the wound with iodine, picked out pieces of cloth and dirt with the
tweezers and carefully dressed it with the sterile bandage and tape. When he
was finished, it made an uncomfortable lump, but at least it was treated
rightly. And since he was here in the bedroom anyway he might just as well find
some clean clothing too, if possible. There was a large closet against the
wall, but when he opened it he could only find women's clothing. A pity—but
there also was one of those overlarge sexless sweaters in the colour of the
sea, which would do just nicely. Sighing with relief he disposed of his jacket,
retrieved the few valuables out of its pockets—two black ofudas, his wallet and
a pen—and donned the sweater. It did not even look bad on him. Seishirou smiled
to the mirrored closet-door, practicing until the crook of pain smoothed out
from the left corner of his mouth, combed his hair with his fingers and went
back to his 'own' apartment.
*
The second time Arashi woke up it was again because somebody touched her
bed, and she opened her eyes, thinking it was the doctor. But this was not the
tiny shiver of a chart being removed, this was a real bump, and somebody almost
fell onto her bed as she stumbled drunkenly against the foot of the bed.
"I'm sorry," a voice muttered, a voice Arashi recognized immediately.
"Karen!?" she cried, grabbing the woman by the wrist when she tried to
get up, "Kasumi-san, is that you?" The woman looked back at her with too bright
eyes. Like Arashi's her head was covered in bandages, but no hair showed,
rendering her head small and her eyes incredibly huge. Concussion,
Arashi thought, and reached out to steady her. "It's me, Kishuu Arashi." It was
Karen, and after a few blinks she also seemed to recognise Arashi.
"Arashi-chan…you…" She almost fell against the girl when she tried to
hug her. "I thought we were the only ones…"
"We?" she shook her lightly. "Who are we? Are there more of us who
survived?" Karen nodded, her eyes narrow with pain. But she should be in bed,
lying flat on her back, resting. Yet she could not maker herself say that.
"Who, Kasumi-san? Kamui?"
"No. I don't know whether he is still alive. Aoki is, though. He lies
over there, at the far end of this room."
"He is here?" Vainly, she tried to see him,
but there were too many people in between. Her back and cheeks throbbed
painfully as she stretched her neck to get a better view. "I thought …I didn't
see him yesterday."
"They only brought him in this morning, from the intensive care." She
cast her eyes down. "They don't think he will make it through the night."
"No…" Karen nodded.
"He broke his back. Several places. They operated on him, and he's
sedated…It's a miracle he lived so far. And he's conscious—I was on my way to
speak to him."
"How did he get here, then? How did you get here?" She shrugged.
"I can't remember. It's not important now, is it?" Arashi wanted to tell
her that it was very important, but one look at Karen's state made her decide
differently. The Flower-hostess was in no condition to walk, let alone to care
about how she got here. If anything, she had to be aided.
"I guess it isn't. Shall I help you to Aoki-san?" She was rewarded with
a faded smile.
"Thank you. I'm sure he would love to see you too."
Aoki looked as if he had already died. There was no colour in his face
but for his brown eyes, and they were almost black with his swollen pupils.
"Aoki-san…" He turned his head a fraction of an inch in their direction
and a soft smile broke out on his face.
"Karen-san. And…is that…our priestess?" Arashi nodded. She regretted the
exercise: a burning pain flared in her back, her head was throbbing. But she
was so glad to see the wind master she bit back the pain and returned his
smile.
"Yes. I thought I was the only one who…who survived." Again she thought
about Sorata, and she swallowed heavily. Karen gracefully collapsed on the edge
of Aoki's bed, managing to make it appear that she just sat down. "And I can't
even remember how I survived."
"Kusanangi," Seiichirou answered.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Kusanagi saved you. He was a dragon of earth, but he also was
Yuzuriha-chan's friend. He detested the killing, and he managed to take you and
Karen away…just after the explosion struck."
"But Yuzuriha is dead!" The name did ring a bell, though.
"I know." He was silent for a while. Suddenly Arashi realized why he
looked so strange: he wasn't wearing his glasses. It made a big difference. He
startled her when he continued, "He came back for me later…I…the explosion had
thrown me against the building and…a part fell on top of me. He said that,
though it was too late, he'd changed his mind. He said that if humanity had to
go in this way it…it would be impossible to think that…the earth…where was I…?"
"If the earth is cleared of humans in this way," Karen took over, "it
would not do the earth any good. She would be damaged so badly that she'd die
anyway. Is that what he meant?" Aoki nodded, a minimal movement.
"Kusanagi told me…that he could hear plants and trees scream…it is all
rather muddled I'm afraid, I was only half unconscious at the time…but he told
me that his sole reason to join the Dragons of earth was to stop the butchering
of the flora." His eyes turned inward. "It seems he was wrong. Half of Tokyo is
gone, if he's right…and all the plants with it."
"I still can't believe it," Arashi whispered. "It's too big. Tokyo is
too large just to be wiped away—and Hinoto's shields, ours weren't the only
kekkais over there…"
"Look out of the window," Seiichirou suggested with that sad, strange
smile of his. She nodded, walked to the window near his bed, looked out. Her
knees turned to water, she had to grip the window sill to remain standing as
she gazed out, disbelieving. The hospital stood at the edge of a crater. There
were a few hundred meters of intact buildings, then…nothing. A smoking, dead
nothingness.
"No. No, this is not true. This can't be true."
"It is," Karen murmured. "And it is our fault. We may have won, but
whatever it was we won, we lost this. And nobody will cry for us when we die."
Arashi turned around. Karen sagged against Aoki's chest, eyes closed, her
complexion the same colour as her bandages. Seiichirou twitched his fingers as
if to caress her shoulder, but his arm would not move. His voice had the same
effect, however, when he said, "Of course somebody will. I told you I would cry
for you, if you died. Although it will not be you dying."
"You won't either." Arashi said, throat constricted with tears. "Die.
You made it too far to die here."
Again that smile.
"Arashi-san," He hesitated. Then he continued, "When Kusanagi took me to
this place…we came…we past where I used to live. Where my wife and children
live. It's gone. My house is gone. There is only a hole in the ground. They
were in there, packing for a trip they were to take…today? I told them to go to
America for a short time, to be safe. But it was too late…"
"I'm so sorry…" Those warm, sad eyes were calm as he said, "You
shouldn't be. I'm not. It was some kind of fate, I guess. I know I'm dying, the
surgeons didn't lie about that, but I don't care. It only…saddens me to leave
Karen…like this." His fingers twitched again, and suddenly Arashi reached out
and placed his hand on the woman's shoulder.
"I'll take care of her," she promised, squeezing his limp fingers in her
own. "Whatever happens, I'll make sure nobody hurts her."
"Thank you," Seiichirou said, and closed his eyes.
Four hours later he was dead.
2
Ueno Park was a wilderness. Uprooted trees and bushes lay everywhere,
whole pieces of ground had just burst, scattered tiles everywhere, wiping the
grass away, benches were spread over the ground and in the trees. Only one tree
was still standing, its luster a travesty of life in the dead chaos. Seishirou
stood in front of the sakura tree, his hands in his pockets, and examined it.
At first notice there did not seem to be anything at all wrong with it, but
when he placed his palm against its trunk
howling, howling, screaming
he snatched his hand back as if burned. A thin sheen of perspiration
covered his forehead. What happened to you? Who cast this spell? For it must
be a spell, and it must have been cast by someone. Not by Subaru, he wouldn't
know how to cast such intricate and evil spells. I could have cast something
alike…but who else could have done it? Is there perhaps another Onmyouji
around…it must be an Onmyouji spell. It does not matter. How can I dispel it
again?
He walked all around the tree, pushing rubble out of his way with his
foot. "On," he muttered, focusing his energy on the tree without opening
a channel. A tide of swirling power surged at his tentative touch, his eyes
grew warm with it. Seishirou frowned. It was as if the tree's awareness was
fading, no, had already faded almost to nothing, as if…
No. He stared hard at the pink fluff of blossoms, contemplating his
possibilities. There were terribly few, and he was too vulnerable without the
sakura's power to ignore one, no matter how dangerous or unpleasant it would
be. Well, here goes, then. He took his pen out of his pocket, stretched
out his left hand and carefully drew a sign of protection on the back of his
hand. Then he touched his first two fingers to the bark, inhaled deeply,
steadying his breathing, and drew in the force of his family's heritage.
screaming, screeching, howling, voices shouting themselves into
existence
He was inside the tree now, seeing it for
what it really was: an entity with its own soul, feelings and cravings, but
utterly inhuman; a place more than a presence, or maybe just a force, yes, a
force made by hundreds and hundreds of human souls, fed by their blood, whose
hunger had always led the Sakurazukamori on and on on their path of murder. He
had been here before, long ago, when he had been injured in such a way that he
would have died if he had not tapped from the tree's life force directly. This
was different, though. In Seishirou's personal maboroshi it was always calm,
the surroundings black, white and gray, with the tree the only colourful thing.
Now, violent winds whipped the petals into his face and the tree shivered and
almost bent to the ground in agony. Its ordinary hum of presence was replaced
by a cacophony of voices, and Seishirou felt those voices tearing his protection
apart. He could hardly look straight into its direction for the sweeping
branches and petals, but what he could see filled him with disbelief.
It is disintegrating.
The tree…it's falling apart. The souls are…leaving?
Shielding his face with his hands, he could make out other things beside
the petals leaving this place. It's true, they are leaving. Those who still
have a bit of awareness are leaving… Something hit his hand with the sign
and he hastily broke contact. He found himself lying on the ground, gasping and
covered with sweat, with a tearing ache in his side and a cold lodged so deep
in his bones he began to shiver violently despite the fact that he knew it was
only imaginary.
"I seem to be having a problem," he said aloud, trying to be sunny, but
he could not help groaning when he stood up, and his smile refused to appear
when he twisted his mouth. Instead he only grimaced, and then he searched for a
pointy twig in the heap of trees to draw with and set to work. There had to be
some way to dispel this magic.
*
Subaru, head of the Sumeragi clan, Onmyouji and only surviving twin of
the thirteenth generation, winced when the petite doctor probed at his
shoulder. She told him to sit still and pressed harder. Subaru bit his lip. The
fact that his arm was broken and not the shoulder did not mean it was nice to
be poked in—he'd had enough poking these last two days. There were
approximately twenty stitches spread all over his body of which fifteen in his
head in various cuts, there was the break in his right wrist where Seishirou
had simply snapped the bone, there were the bruises and strains and the chafes
that had to be treated with the most stinging iodine he had ever seen; Subaru
was tired of being cared for. It had been a mistake to tell who he was. He was
sure a lot of people needed the attention more than he did, but whenever he
opened his mouth to say so, a nurse told him to be quiet, or simply tugged at a
bandage here or there with enough force to make him hiss in pain.
"You are too important to lose, Sumeragi-san," they told him patiently.
"We need you, especially now, and we need you in good health."
The problem was that he was in relatively good health, although he did
not know how he had survived the explosion and the major earthquake that had followed.
The first time he looked out of the make-shift hospital he resided in, he could
only stare, dumbfounded at the wreck of his city.
How many kekkais were destroyed? Or more importantly, how many are still
intact? Is Hinoto still alive? There must be more Seals left…only half of Tokyo
is gone. O God, only half…From the first hour that he was awake he began to
search for the other Dragons of Heaven, but he found nothing, and now he still
didn't know where the others were, if they had survived. But of course they
could all be dead too, if Hinoto was still alive. She could be keeping the rest
of the kekkais up. The uncertainty drove him crazy. In the beginning the doctor
gave him pills that he thought were painkillers and took, but since they also
enabled him to sleep nine hours a day besides the eight he slept at night, he
suspected they were not painkillers at all. This morning he had spat them out
when the nurse turned her back, and although his wounds hurt worse his mind was
very clear and his fretting kept him awake long enough to search the entire
hospital. He would have gone outside if a nurse had not grabbed him by the neck
and drawn him back to bed, apologizing all the way.
Now it was evening, and this prodding could be the final stage to
freedom.
"Does this hurt, Sumeragi-san?" Yes.
"Only a little."
"And this?" That also hurt.
"No, not at all."
"How is your head, Sumeragi-san?" It still throbbed along his stitches.
"Fine, thank you." She shone a little beam straight into his good eye,
blinding him, but he kept his eye wide open and smiled encouragingly. It was a
fake smile, and the doctor obviously knew that because she grunted
disbelievingly.
"Very well," she said finally after listening to his breathing with her
stethoscope, "we can't keep you here if you refuse to cooperate." Her tone told
him clearly that she might believe that he was the head of his clan, but that,
to her, he was mainly a patient who was too stupid to do what was good for him.
Subaru shrugged. He did not care about her opinions. The doctor sighed. "So,"
she continued, "to be sure you are safe, we, that is, the politicians up high,
have arranged a place where you can stay. It is close by, so if there are any
complications we are close at hand."
"There is a room for me?" Subaru asked. He thought only those with
political power would be qualified to charge a room in the still standing
apartments.
"Yes. It's about two blocks away from here."
"Why not a tent camp, like the other homeless?"
"Why, you are a Sumeragi. Anyway, they found you a room. For more
information you should talk to the qualified people. A certain mister Ajimoshi
is waiting for you in the hall. Whenever you are ready to leave…"
Half an hour later Subaru sat on a king-sized bed in a luxurious
apartment, complete with a small bathroom with both bath and shower, a
kitchenette, a bedroom and a sitting room with two chairs, a television and an
audio set. He felt a bit dizzy. Apparently there were a lot of reasons apart
from him being an Onmyouji that entitled him to the right of this room, only he
did not understand half of them, thought most perfectly ridiculous and was
convinced half of them were wrong. It did not matter. He was out of the
hospital, relatively sound and ready to start looking for the rest. Because
some of them had to be alive.
The Seals, a nagging little voice whispered in the back of his head, yes, the
Seals, but maybe HE is alive too. You did not see him die, after all. He could be
alive, and if he is, would he not be looking for you as well? You are bound to
him, just like you are bound to Kamui. Who do you want to find first,
Subaru-kun? Who has priority, Kamui or Seishirou?
*
"Let's try to find out who's still alive," Arashi suggested in an
attempt to cheer Karen up a bit. The Flower hostess only looked back at her
from the depths of her pillow. "We are, to start with. And…" she stopped. She
did not have a clue about whom had survived. She did not even know who were
dead for sure, apart from Aoki, Sorata and Yuzuriha.
"Maybe it would be more satisfying to count the dead on the other side,"
Karen said morosely. Arashi shrugged, but the other woman actually seemed
interested, so she started, "I killed Nataku. I'm pretty sure it was dead
before the explosion came."
"And I took care of Yuuto. It was a pity he was on the other side; he
was a nice guy. I still don't understand why he wanted the people to die…maybe
because he only liked people, never loved them."
"I thought he was in love with that deranged computer-whiz, what's her
name, Satsuki?"
"I don't know. What about her, do you think she's dead too?"
"I'd like to think so. I still detest her for hurting Yuzuriha-chan.
It's strange, isn't it, that most of the Dragons of Earth were in fact…if not
likable, than at least…pleasant. I mean, Yuuto was pleasant enough when we met
him…and Nataku…" She hesitated. "Do you know what was so strange when I killed
Nataku? Its last words were 'daddy, help me, daddy.' It made me feel so, so sad.
I wonder whom it meant." Karen gave a shallow nod.
"It was a pitiful creature. In fact, if I needed a reason to give up on
humanity poor things like Nataku would do the trick. To force a human being to
live a life like a thing, without emotions or feelings…that is nothing less
than evil."
"But Satsuki was evil too. She didn't have any more feelings than
Nataku—worse, she just didn't care."
"She was more like her computer than a human being. I hope she burned to
death in it when the explosion struck."
"If she died, I think she died before that. Otherwise, wouldn't she have
helped the others?"
"You have a point." Karen pushed herself up on one elbow, raising a
finger. "But let's start at the beginning. Before all hell burst loose, Fuuma
literally told us he killed that dreamgazer of theirs, to fulfill his wish."
She ticked off a second finger. "Then, for sure, we know Nataku died, and
Yuuto," A third finger. "Who's next?"
"Fuuma himself?"
"Unknown."
"And perhaps the most dangerous one apart from Fuuma,"
"Sakurazukamori."
"Yes. What do we know about him?"
"Subaru fought him. I don't know who won. I fear…"
"Subaru is stronger than we give him credit for. Probably stronger than
any of us…but we are straying. Seishirou gets a question mark. Then, we know
Kusanagi is safe and sound—and that makes seven."
"Of which three are definitely dead."
"Plus Satsuki. I'm convinced she's dead. I just know."
"Four then." They fell silent. Arashi drew patterns in the sheet.
Four of them against millions of us. She bit her lip when Karen's
well-manicured, scratched hand took her own.
"More than half of them died," Karen said softly. "It may not seem like
much of a comfort, but it's enough to make us winners, no matter who else is
still alive."
"Seishirou could still destroy a kekkai if he wanted to."
"He could. But he won't. Because you see, if I understand him well, it
was never his intention to wipe out humanity." Arashi raised her eyebrows.
"Not? But, what was he doing with the Dragons of Earth—he WAS a Dragon of
Earth, I'm sure about that!"
"Oh yes, he was. But think about it, Arashi-chan. He's Sakurazukamori.
He lives by killing. What would he do in a world without people? His kind
succeeds by killing its predecessor—who would succeed him? His kind would die out,
and they have always murdered ruthlessly to stay alive. Why would he be
different?"
"Because of Subaru-san?"
"Precisely. Why did he not kill Subaru sooner? Because he was too
strong? I don't think so."
"Do you mean he only was a Dragon of Earth because Subaru is a Dragon of
Heaven? Like—like Kamui and Fuuma?" Karen nodded seriously.
"There are many parallels between the Dragons of Earth and Heaven. This
one only seems logical. Yuzuriha was in love with Kusanagi—she told me once. I
promised her not to tell any of you, but now…it doesn't matter anymore. It can
only clarify now, and we need that. Yuzuriha and Kusanagi. Then there was that
strange, horrible relation between Kamui and Fuuma, and finally the two sides
of Onmyouji."
"Jin and Yang," Arashi whispered.
"A balance," replied Karen. "In Onmyouji perhaps even more than in the
rest of us. So, if Seishirou is still alive, I think Subaru is as well. How
could it be different? They are perfect mirrors. How can a reflection survive
without its original?"
*
Seishirou woke to raindrops falling on his face. How can it be
raining inside? He wondered groggily, but then he was fully awake and aware
that he was still in the park, lying just outside the ring of symbols he had
drawn on the ground. If he would turn his head, he could probably see them
radiating a pale light, but he was so tired that turning his head seemed to
much of a bother.
No.
He turned his head.
You are NEVER too tired to move.
There was no light. The rain or time had
extinguished it.
You have to get up. NOW.
With difficulty he propped himself up on
his elbows. He was alarmed at his weakness and the pain in his side, but most
of all at the effect of his spells. There was no effect. The Tree was still
falling apart inside.
And you will die if you stay out in this rain for much longer. His clothes were
damp already, his hair stuck to his forehead. The rain stung in his eyes when
he looked up; he had lost his glasses somewhere in the fight.
Stop dawdling, Sei-san. You don't have time to be dramatic and stand in
the rain like a love-sick romantic. Just as he turned around, it
struck him like thunder. Something Subaru had said, just before Seishirou found
his power blocked. No, not something Subaru had said. "No, Sei-san." The
only one who ever called him Sei-san was…Hokuto.
He turned back to face the tree, mind racing. It made sense. It made
perfect sense. He gave a short bark of a laugh. Little, vibrantly alive Hokuto,
object of devotion for the Dream gazer Kakyou; Hokuto, MacDonald addicted
Sumeragi-twin; sacrificing, dead Hokuto had given her life in exchange
for her brother's, and she had used that life to complete the spell that would
end the gathering force of the sakura tree. She must have found that spell in
books entirely unsuitable for her or her brother—it was the kind of magic her
side of Onmyoujitsu never used. At least, not as far as he knew. On the other
hand wasn't it a spell his kind would ever perform either. Sacrifice was
something that was uncommon in Sakurazukamori history.
"And with it, she trapped me. She took away my power without taking my
life."
And as he stood in the rain, staring at the lush but falling cloud of
petals, he wondered if it had not been better if he had died in the final
battle. For how could he ever change what he had been all his life?
To be continued