And now, in case you missed it, a summary of the prologue.
"Ananda (Prologue)", by Shoiryu and RackhamRose
Shoiryu: CHAOS THEORY.
RackhamRose: SYMBOLISM.
Sanskrit: WORD TO YA MOTHA.
Audience: ...o_o;;;;;
Enjoy. ^^
*`-,--
In the dreamplane, her footsteps were soundless, but each light touch sent wide ripples across the endless glassy surface of the dream.
This dream was not her own; it lay open to her only because of the talent in her blood. The sight. She didn't often wander beyond her sister's dreams--so few of them were as interesting as Hinoto's, after all--but today was different. Her stride was full of purpose as she moved, half-floating towards the dreamseer who sat pale and mute like a beacon on the dark sea of the uncertain.
Kanoe's smile, however, was smug.
Of course the yumemi was aware of her approach, but he didn't immediately acknowledge it. Instead he continued to sit quietly, hands folded into the long sleeves of his kimono, golden cat-eyes fixed on something distant that apparently only he could see.
Her presence was not welcome, obviously.
Kanoe, however, had never been one to pay attention to the reluctance of others--it meant weakness, an unforgivable flaw--and only grinned more broadly as she closed the distance between them.
She stopped just behind him, then leaned down and set her reddened lips next to his ear. Her black hair spilled over his shoulder, coiling against the pale cream of his kimono, like polished wood in snow.
"They're all assembled, now, aren't they."
Kakyou blinked, once--the merest twitch of irritation--but didn't respond.
One long-fingered hand crept up to stroke his arm, her painted fingernails like blood spatters against the light fabric. "Except for the Kamui... the Seven Angels... and the Seven Seals."
He stiffened a little at that uninvited touch, eyes moving back just enough so that he could see her out of the corner of his vision. "It seems," he replied, soft voice perfectly even and calm, unruffled.
"And I believe you know one of the Seals..." Her voice was nearly a purr. "...Kakyou?"
Kakyou looked away again, choosing once more not to respond; if he did, it certainly wasn't any of her business.
She chuckled at his silence, and lifted a hand to gesture gracefully. The figures of the Seven Seals appeared, all cloaked, one of them huddling beneath the shadow of enormous, glistening batwings. Another gesture, and one of the cloaks melted away to reveal a tall man in a long trenchcoat.
"This one, isn't it?"
"...And what does it matter to you, whether I know him or not?" His voice was still calm, but there was a faint edge of tenseness to it, now.
Kanoe tilted her head to one side, as if he hadn't spoken. "Such a pretty plaything. So pretty... and so confused."
Kakyou glanced at the silhouetted figure reluctantly, then away again.
"What do you see for him, Kakyou?"
He was silent for a moment, then he closed his eyes with a sigh. "....Heartbreak."
The word seemed almost to echo across the empty dreamscape.
"Oh?"
The yumemi merely nodded.
Her eyes narrowed a little at the slender figure. "I wasn't aware he still had a heart."
"No one ever truly 'loses' their heart." Now he, too, raised his eyes to gaze at the figure dispassionately. "...They simply... hide it away, somewhere."
Kanoe's hand moved in his colourless hair, in a gesture that might almost have been maternal.
"And when it comes to light, and the floodgates open?"
Shifting slightly, Kakyou did his best to ignore the unwelcome contact. "That's when everything falls apart," he said quietly.
"What else do you see?"
"....Pain." Another blink of golden eyes.
A soft, throaty chuckle escaped her.
"How much?"
He closed his eyes wearily.
"Enough to break them all."
"And you see him buckle?"
Kakyou raised his head to look at her for the first time. "Break," he corrected softly.
Her eyes were dark and unreadable, though that smile still curved her lips. "How soon?"
"It will take some time. But it will come, in the end."
She leaned in a little, and her voice sank to a whisper.
"Show me."
Kakyou sighed, and the dreamscape swirled, altered, shifted... and now the trenchcoated figure bent over a still body, sprawled like a broken doll across the ground.
Her smile broadened a little, and she made a soft humming noise. "And beyond this--?"
He shook his head. "I cannot yet see."
"Such a pity. This promises to be very interesting."
He glanced up at her again. "Is that all?"
Kanoe looked past him, and gestured gracefully. The image turned, just enough so that the two dreamgazers could more clearly see the body the agonised Seal was bending over. It took her a moment to place the corpse's features, but once she had, her smile turned surprised.
"...very interesting."
The yumemi merely bowed his head in silence. He had no desire to watch.
Another heartbeat, and then the image dissolved, falling away like a swirl of snow in wind. "And that's all you see for him.... for them?"
When Kakyou spoke again, his voice was strained with distant sorrow. "At this time. Yes."
"It's the cruellest emotion, isn't it, Kakyou?"
".....It can be," he relented after a few heartbeats more; what might have been the tragic ghost of a smile drifted across his face. "...But it can also be the most beautiful thing in the world."
Her voice was slightly distant now. "And the first time you let it in..."
Kakyou straightened a little, voice decidedly tense now. "Is that all, Kanoe-san?" he repeated.
And her smile changed.
"Actually..."
Her fingers tightened a little on his arm, not threatening... almost reassuring.
He supressed another sigh. "Yes?"
"Shall we make a bet?"
Kakyou twisted around to look up at her fully for the first time, surprise coloring his tone.
"A bet?"
* * *
For five-thirty on a weekday, Nakano Sun Plaza was oddly empty.
The watery afternoon light was still clear, if grey; shadows were little but smudges where they fell between buildings and benches. A chilly breath of wind snaked through the wide space with a sound like a ghost stirring in its sleep.
Beneath the stone and concrete, the lines of a kekkai thrummed softly with protective power. And above that stone, a man in a black trenchcoat was nudging at those lines.
He stretched his othersense cautiously, almost tapping at the ancient energy with his own dark magic, like an animal testing the bars of its cage with paws and teeth.
But someone was hunting that black-clad figure.
A whisp of white, as abrupt as the flash of heat lightning in the night, fluttered across the rooftops. Raw, pure power began to wash out across the Plaza, spreading, falling like snow, coating the surrounding area with the ancient power of the Sumeragi clan.
A slender figure dropped down from the rooftops with catlike grace. That great swell of power pushed warningly at dark energy. Green eyes glittered, resting on the man in the black trenchcoat steadily.
The man turned slightly, very slightly, as if he had merely felt a breath across the back of his neck. Then, in a fluid movement, he pivoted, moving easily through a half-circle. The wind kicked up again, catching him in mid-turn so that his coat spread wide around his body like black wings, and a dull glint of late-afternoon light flashed grey off his sunglasses.
The other stood quite still; he was reminiscent of a gazelle that has scented a lion and must decide which way to dart. Those deep green eyes were fixed on the other's face unwaveringly. He seemed as though he were waiting for an acknowledgement of some kind.
There was a moment of silence--and then it came.
The older man smiled, a slow smile, and raised a hand to his face to pull off his sunglasses. His eyes stayed closed for just a moment as he folded the shades and slid them into the breast pocket of his trenchcoat; another heartbeat and he glanced up.
One of his eyes was honey-gold, the other opal with blindness.
The younger man swallowed noticeably, jaw tightening slightly as though considering words. He apparently decided against it, as the silence remained unbroken, and instead continued to gaze across the Plaza.
So many questions to ask. So many things never said. No chance now.
The black-clad man's smile quirked and grew just a bit wider, a faint edge on it--
And then he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes.
The logo was a blue and silver blur, but the words on it--Mild Sevens--were familiar enough that his companion didn't have to see them clearly to know what they were. With long, graceful fingers he tapped out a single white cylinder and lifted it to his lips, his movements fluid.
Instinctively the younger man reached for the pocket of his own trenchcoat, fingertips brushing and then curling around his own pack and lighter, but still he didn't move forward.
The other seemed to sense the movement, glancing up to give him a look that might have been mildly expectant as he set the cigarette between his lips, then rummaged in his own pockets as if looking for a lighter. His smile was still pleasantly unreadable. Something in that expression propelled the younger forward, like a puppet whose strings have been tugged. In complete silence he slunk over, withdrawing his own lighter from his pocket and calmly igniting the other man's cigarette.
And something in that moment was tense with silent awareness. They were within striking distance of each other, within perfect attack range, and a single decisive blow from either of them would shatter this tension with death.
But neither of them drew away.
The older man leaned in just enough to ensure that the light caught properly, then inhaled deeply--held the smoke in for a moment--and turned his head to exhale a thin stream of grey over his companion's shoulder. The smoke, oddly enough, carried the faint scent of something growing (incense? sakura?), and when he turned his mismatched eyes back to the younger man, there might almost have been something warm in the depths of his one good eye.
Almost.
His next words were very nearly a purr, spoken in a voice like dark and bitter chocolate--
"Thank you ever so much."
There was something in the green eyes of the younger-- a question, perhaps, or maybe an accusation... or maybe a declaration of something there was never a chance to say before. His head was cocked, brow furrowed very, very faintly. A miniscule frown tugged at the corners of his lips. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn't yet have the words.
The hand that held his cigarette dropped to the elder's side; the moment passed in motionless silence, neither man's expression changing.
And then very suddenly his free hand was wrapped around his companion's wrist, strong fingers holding him firmly, and a single powerful tug brought the younger man very close to him. His lips were a breath from the back of the other's hand, warmth moving steadily across the sensitive skin.
The predator's touch probably should have been cold, but it wasn't.
A soft sound escaped the other; maybe a gasp of surprise, maybe fear, maybe anticipation. He shifted, leaning his weight back and away from the older man, but his eyes remained riveted on the other's face. Tension vibrated all through his lean frame, though he held himself still with great effort.
Captured prey.
His hunter leaned forward, bowing his head so that his lips barely brushed the swell of a knuckle.
"A lighter..." A faint hint of amusement crept into his tone. "You've started smoking, haven't you, Subaru-kun?"
A visible shiver rippled through Subaru at the feeling of breath against his skin--so close, so intimate... so false.
His breathing was noticeably quickened. He didn't grace the older man with a response. The faint scent of tobacco on his fingers and the presence of the lighter itself were answer enough.
He shifted to caress the back of Subaru's hand with his thumb, stirring a tingle of dark power into life beneath his veins along the lines of a now-invisible scar. The thrum of old blood magic, combined with the young man's racing pulse, made Subaru's skin nearly sing.
The predator smiled brightly.
"That's not good for you at all."
How dare he. How dare he even feign caring? With a quiet snarl Subaru jerked away, clutching the offended hand to his chest, and fixed the older man with an expression of deep-seated contempt.
"I've been searching for you for a long time, Seishirou-san." His gentle voice was hard was controlled anger. Seishirou lifted his cigarette to his lips again and took a deep drag, his eyes never leaving Subaru.
"Oh? Why?"
Subaru drew in a deep breath, struggling for his composure once more, and cupped his hands together in front of him, the gesture almost defiant. His eyes never left Seishirou's.
"To make my Wish...."
The transparent green star rose up and up above the Plaza, enveloping the entire area in protective, faintly humming energy, cocooning the two men together within.
"...a reality."
There was a bit of a silence following that.
And then Seishirou covered his mouth with one hand, his mismatched eyes suddenly bright with what looked like... suppressed laughter?
"....Well?" Subaru scowled for a moment before he caught himself and schooled his expression back into stoic stillness. He was growing increasingly frustrated--amazing how just a few minutes in Seishirou's company could set him on edge.
The older man took a quick pull on his cigarette and let the smoke out before speaking again. "The Seven Seals--no, wait." A moment's thought, and he had the right words. "Your clan teaches it as the Dragons of Heaven, correct?"
Subaru just nodded once, very slightly; this was true. He offered nothing else.
"Those destined to save humanity from destruction... and you're one of them."
Subaru frowned faintly, then shook his head, raising a hand in front of his face; the other held a spray of ofuda at his side.
"...I don't care about the fate of the Earth."
And then without warning the ofuda were leaving Subaru's fingers, aimed with deadly precision--the young clanhead was already calling out the chant to form his shikigami, eyes narrowed in concentration.
The assassin frowned as the shikigami came screaming toward him. He'd expected the boy to be powerful, but... anger seemed to have made him sharper, faster, more efficient.
If Subaru had looked, he would have found something distantly like surprise on Seishirou's face.
Then the moment snapped in half, and the Sakurazukamori raised his arm, channeling power through his fingertips and down to the glowing end of his cigarette. He let that power guide his hand, tracing a blood-red inverted pentagram in the air just in front of him; the shikigami slammed against it and were violently cancelled out, each nearly exploding in a little burst of blood.
Subaru already had a second handful of ofuda leaving his fingertips, flying towards Seishirou with that same frightening accuracy. The teenaged Subaru would not have been near so practiced in battle and offensive magic.
But Subaru was no longer the sweet, innocent little boy he'd once been.
Another sharply called chant, and the slips of spelled paper were transformed once more into furiously shrieking doves, diving for the Sakurazukamori with claws outstretched.
Seishirou pulled in a deep breath, centering himself, and a dark shape blurred into existence above his arm--a spirit-hawk, wide wings outstretched.
Now he could begin in earnest.
With almost athletic grace he leapt forward, countering Subaru's shikigami with a wave of black ofuda this time; the hawk took off, keening loudly as its master surged relentlessly towards his prey.
Another fierce gesture from the younger man, and a blazing white star of power erupted up around the dark onmyouji, centering him directly in the middle. Its shape burned into the stone below it, so intense was that surge. Subaru squinted faintly, putting his full concentration into holding that attack.
Seishirou threw up an arm to shield his eyes from the shards of concrete and stone that went flying--a little too late; one skidded across his cheek with a little razor-twinge of pain, and the stinging wetness across his cheek let him know he was bleeding.
Touché.
He curled his hands, directing a blast of his own power downwards to seal off the lines of magic beneath him. As the stone shuddered and ceased to crack, it made the shape he stood in clear to him--a pentagram, the shape that had tied them together for so long.
He glanced up with dangerously narrowed eyes, his smile sliding back into place.
"Is it your wish to kill me?"
The younger onmyouji stilled at that.
Maybe if you think that, this won't be so hard... after all...
Seishirou raised a hand to his cheek, catching the long trickle of blood that was slowly making its way down the pale curve of skin there.
"...or perhaps you have made a wrong assumption, Subaru-kun."
Subaru seemed almost hypnotized by that movement, the sluggish roll of blood across Seishirou's face--
If he can bleed maybe he really is human after all...
--and he held still; something in him felt almost as though the moment would break if he moved even the slightest inch.
And then Seishirou was laughing, the sound bright and cheerful and only faintly hollow.
"You really are too cute, Subaru-kun!"
Subaru started a little at that, genuinely caught off guard. For a moment his expression was confused, questioning. Vulnerable.
"Perhaps you still have quite a bit to learn..." Seishirou smiled, and rubbed the smear of bright blood between his fingers, slowly, his gaze never moving from his adversary's face, watching as the vulnerability melted smoothly into anger. Real anger.
So many years of training, dismissed with such casual ease. Oh, Seishirou-san, you shouldn't've said that... The situation seemed so useless all of a sudden. For a moment Subaru was vaguely, bitterly amused. ....There goes all the meaning in my life.
His jaw tightened. "Maybe you're the one who has something to learn, Seishirou-san."
Seishirou's long hands moved, very slightly and very slowly; he was tracing a pattern on the back of one hand with a bloodied fingertip. "I'm all ears."
It was at that moment that realization struck Subaru full in the face; immediately he shifted into a defensive posture, bracing himself for the worst. Though he couldn't see it, he knew what the pattern on the back of Seishirou's hand was--the seed syllable om, the key word of every spell. When the elder onmyouji cast a spell, this blood writing would charge it with still more dark power, enough to make the air ripple with fire and shadow...
Seishirou lifted his hand.
And did nothing.
Subaru was tense, on the alert for any sign of attack. All his weight rested on his back foot, and with his hands still raised in that desperate gesture of defense... it was as though he was waiting for the older man's attack to overwhelm him.
And when it didn't, he faltered a little, faint, hopeless confusion replacing his expression of near-fear.
"...What are you waiting for?" he asked at last.
Seishirou opened his eyes and looked straight at Subaru, something flickering beneath his smile for just an instant. It wasn't emotion, but nor was it contempt--merely a hint of darkness, like a quietly spoken challenge.
Subaru very nearly flinched away, but with a forcible effort he managed to prevent himself from such an extreme response. That fleeting flicker was enough to put him right back on alert, however; his entire body was stiff with anticipatory tension.
The older man chuckled softly at that, then closed his eyes again. When he spoke, his deep voice rang across the empty Plaza, rich and low.
"On asan magini unhatta."
"On bazaragini hayashi hattaya sowaka..." Subaru almost closed his eyes as he began to chant, aware that his protective spell wasn't quite up to par. He'd been waiting for this for so long. So very long.
The predator advanced another step, the power in his hand thrumming with its own nearly wild pulse; currents of dark magic swirled around Subaru, cold as high tide.
"On asan magini unhatta..."
It was like looking death in the face, cold and calm and somehow, eerily welcoming.
Subaru shoved back gamely with his own power, aware of the futility of this fight, that it was his own choice that made it this way, and that he still hadn't told Seishirou exactly what he felt. "Nnn..."
He felt the older man's focus shift and sharpen briefly, the last few words shunting energy into his outstretched hand--
"On basara toshikoku."
--which was suddenly sharp as a knife, sharp enough to slice through the protective spell with a ripple of icy wind.
He was caught off guard by it even when it did finally come. With a soft cry Subaru stumbled back, dark energy--pain--burning across his chest all the way down to his waist. And it hurt, yes, but at the same time it was relieving. The end was coming soon, and he wouldn't have to look into those dual-colored eyes ever again and feel the singing hatred that discolored his heart. Wheezing, Subaru sagged to his knees, clutching at his wounded chest in pain.
Almost immediately Seishirou's hand fell to his side; he approached with measured steps, avoiding the spatters of blood that marked the concrete with balanced, practiced grace.
An ofuda slipped easily into Subaru's hand from within his coat, and with a yell he surged forward, preparing to throw in a last ditch attack.
Seishirou moved so fast the motion wasn't even a blur.
In one moment he was a few paces from Subaru, and in the next he was towering over the younger man, Subaru's wrist trapped firmly in his hand and one bloodstained fingertip pressed against his cheek.
The ofuda fluttered to the ground as their wielder's hand released them in surprise and dismay and sudden heat and he was suddenly having trouble breathing. His expression was one of pure and utter fury--
Just finish it, Seishirou-san--!
--and he glared up at the dark onmyouji, unable to quite hide the slight shuddering that threatened to overcome him. Seishirou's blood was smearing across his face, but Subaru didn't notice that. He was threatening to drown in that one warm brown eye.
As his finger moved slowly across his cheek, Seishirou leaned down so that Subaru could nearly taste his breath across his lips.
"What is it you think you know, Subaru-kun?"
Subaru's chest was heaving as he struggled to calm himself and failed; each indrawn breath burned like fire as it jarred his wound.
"...I hate you."
The words bubbled up and passed his lips before he could catch himself. The brief pause that followed their passage was agonizing.
The moment hung suspended, cold and breathless, before Seishirou's smile froze and widened. His eyes narrowed again, and the look in them could have shattered steel.
"Perhaps I do have something to learn."
His fingers slipped from Subaru's cheek, down towards the warmth of his throat; his touch just skimmed the curve of Subaru's jawline.
Subaru couldn't help himself--he was shaking now, very slightly, eyes slipping closed as the adrenaline of the fight slid away from him and left him feeling cold and empty, despite the fire that seemed to follow Seishirou's fingers across his skin. Subaru's lips parted slightly to allow a shaky breath of air to escape, and a new one to be drawn in.
He was afraid.
What was he afraid of?
"...Don't."
Perhaps it didn't need to be said what Subaru feared.
But Seishirou's hand was already curling around the curve of Subaru's throat, gently, just resting over the pulse--warm skin on warm skin, and that heartbeat so immediate...
It might have been a threatening gesture, but somehow it seemed very intimate.
"I'll see you soon, Subaru-kun," he said.
...and then suddenly he was drawing back, his dark shape melting and shifting and changing until he was little more than a flurry of sakura petals spiraling out into the cold afternoon wind.
Every fiber of his being cried out for the older man to wait as those damnable pink petals started to swirl around him once more. He wanted to know why he was still alive, why this was all there was, all there ever was.
But he didn't.
Instead Subaru sat back where he was, staring upwards as those petals flutter and disappear on the non-existant wind, aching, hurting, and wanting irrationally to scream at the unfairness of it all.
A rooftop away, the First of the Seven Seals grinned rakishly.
"Hella lot of power," the young man remarked, his voice thick with a long-ingrained Kansai accent and the energy of youth. "I'm glad he's on our side."
The girl at his side glanced at him briefly, not quite raising an eyebrow. She was silent; his enthusiasm for the whole affair was, quite frankly, beyond her.
"What?" he demanded, taking in her icy look. "I'm just sayin'."
She averted her eyes again pointedly, clearing her throat. "Do we approach?"
"Well, we sure can't waste time about it." He adjusted his jacket, then gave her a lopsided grin. "Ladies first."
She rolled her eyes in evident disgust and leapt off the rooftop without hesitation or even a second glance. The young monk bounded after her, still smiling, raising a hand to brush at a swirl of petals that fluttered past his cheek.
Below in the plaza, Subaru cupped his hands together again in a sweeping motion, wearily withdrawing his kekkai. He was well aware of the two formitable power sources approaching him across the rooftops, but he paid them no attention. He didn't feel like being civil right then. He felt like going home, curling up in bed, and bleeding to death.
His chest hurt.
The two Seals touched down at the edge of the Plaza; both hesitated, but after a moment, that strong accented voice rang out.
"Sir?"
The young onmyouji sighed quietly, and turned to face the two teenagers, his expression schooled into blank calm. He had one hand pressed against the still bleeding slash across his chest, but other than that, he appeared ethereal, inhuman--his brilliantly green eyes were almost unnerving as they fixed unblinkingly on the boy.
He fidgeted, and nudged his companion, as if urging her to say something.
The girl took a few steps forward, then realized she was being presumptuous, and immediately bowed low. "Excuse us..."
"We, uh, were just wonderin'--"
"That was... a kekkai, wasn't it?" the girl added awkwardly.
Subaru remained silent. He wasn't going to give any ground, though he had some idea what what they wanted.
"We're like you," the boy explained. "Two of the Seals Princess Hinoto's been gatherin'. This is Kishuu Arashi--" he gestured at the girl, and then grinned. "And I'm Arisugawa Sorata, her future sweet lover!"
Arashi crossed her arms, scowling. Rude and presumptuous. They hadn't even known each other that long, and she was already beginning to think that Sorata might be driving her crazy.
For a moment Subaru just looked at them blankly. The he reached down and calmly pulled up the torn lower half of his black t-shirt, realizing belatedly that he was showing a considerable amount of his lower torso.
Sorata's eyes widened when he saw Subaru's hand begin to gravitate down, and he was suddenly stammering, his tone only half-joking. "Whoa, dude. I don't swing that way, and if I did, I don't even know yer name--"
Subaru blinked, momentarily confused... then his eyes narrowed, expression changing from blankness to irritated embarassment. "Sumeragi Subaru," he said, trying to cover his embarassement with hostility.
The young monk blinked rapidly.
"So you are the clan head! We called up Kyoto and they said you weren't--"
And then, for the first time, he noticed the blood. "...whoa, jeez. Come with us? We can get you a bandage--"
"No." He said it a little more sharply than he meant to, and immediately his voice softened, returning to it's natural, gentle tones. His words, however, were spoken with cold, clipped politeness. "No. I don't want to have anything to do with this."
Arashi frowned. "But Kamui..."
"At least let us get you fixed up, you look like hell--real pretty, but hell."
And there Subaru hesitated.
Going with them meant giving in, he knew, to the pull of his destiny. And that was the last thing he wanted.
But he hurt, in body and in heart, and for some reason the idea of crawling home to bed had stopped appealing to him so much.
He shot a cautious glance at Arashi, who nodded back to him politely, and he sighed.
"....If you... insist."
"Ananda (Prologue)", by Shoiryu and RackhamRose
Shoiryu: CHAOS THEORY.
RackhamRose: SYMBOLISM.
Sanskrit: WORD TO YA MOTHA.
Audience: ...o_o;;;;;
Enjoy. ^^
*`-,--
In the dreamplane, her footsteps were soundless, but each light touch sent wide ripples across the endless glassy surface of the dream.
This dream was not her own; it lay open to her only because of the talent in her blood. The sight. She didn't often wander beyond her sister's dreams--so few of them were as interesting as Hinoto's, after all--but today was different. Her stride was full of purpose as she moved, half-floating towards the dreamseer who sat pale and mute like a beacon on the dark sea of the uncertain.
Kanoe's smile, however, was smug.
Of course the yumemi was aware of her approach, but he didn't immediately acknowledge it. Instead he continued to sit quietly, hands folded into the long sleeves of his kimono, golden cat-eyes fixed on something distant that apparently only he could see.
Her presence was not welcome, obviously.
Kanoe, however, had never been one to pay attention to the reluctance of others--it meant weakness, an unforgivable flaw--and only grinned more broadly as she closed the distance between them.
She stopped just behind him, then leaned down and set her reddened lips next to his ear. Her black hair spilled over his shoulder, coiling against the pale cream of his kimono, like polished wood in snow.
"They're all assembled, now, aren't they."
Kakyou blinked, once--the merest twitch of irritation--but didn't respond.
One long-fingered hand crept up to stroke his arm, her painted fingernails like blood spatters against the light fabric. "Except for the Kamui... the Seven Angels... and the Seven Seals."
He stiffened a little at that uninvited touch, eyes moving back just enough so that he could see her out of the corner of his vision. "It seems," he replied, soft voice perfectly even and calm, unruffled.
"And I believe you know one of the Seals..." Her voice was nearly a purr. "...Kakyou?"
Kakyou looked away again, choosing once more not to respond; if he did, it certainly wasn't any of her business.
She chuckled at his silence, and lifted a hand to gesture gracefully. The figures of the Seven Seals appeared, all cloaked, one of them huddling beneath the shadow of enormous, glistening batwings. Another gesture, and one of the cloaks melted away to reveal a tall man in a long trenchcoat.
"This one, isn't it?"
"...And what does it matter to you, whether I know him or not?" His voice was still calm, but there was a faint edge of tenseness to it, now.
Kanoe tilted her head to one side, as if he hadn't spoken. "Such a pretty plaything. So pretty... and so confused."
Kakyou glanced at the silhouetted figure reluctantly, then away again.
"What do you see for him, Kakyou?"
He was silent for a moment, then he closed his eyes with a sigh. "....Heartbreak."
The word seemed almost to echo across the empty dreamscape.
"Oh?"
The yumemi merely nodded.
Her eyes narrowed a little at the slender figure. "I wasn't aware he still had a heart."
"No one ever truly 'loses' their heart." Now he, too, raised his eyes to gaze at the figure dispassionately. "...They simply... hide it away, somewhere."
Kanoe's hand moved in his colourless hair, in a gesture that might almost have been maternal.
"And when it comes to light, and the floodgates open?"
Shifting slightly, Kakyou did his best to ignore the unwelcome contact. "That's when everything falls apart," he said quietly.
"What else do you see?"
"....Pain." Another blink of golden eyes.
A soft, throaty chuckle escaped her.
"How much?"
He closed his eyes wearily.
"Enough to break them all."
"And you see him buckle?"
Kakyou raised his head to look at her for the first time. "Break," he corrected softly.
Her eyes were dark and unreadable, though that smile still curved her lips. "How soon?"
"It will take some time. But it will come, in the end."
She leaned in a little, and her voice sank to a whisper.
"Show me."
Kakyou sighed, and the dreamscape swirled, altered, shifted... and now the trenchcoated figure bent over a still body, sprawled like a broken doll across the ground.
Her smile broadened a little, and she made a soft humming noise. "And beyond this--?"
He shook his head. "I cannot yet see."
"Such a pity. This promises to be very interesting."
He glanced up at her again. "Is that all?"
Kanoe looked past him, and gestured gracefully. The image turned, just enough so that the two dreamgazers could more clearly see the body the agonised Seal was bending over. It took her a moment to place the corpse's features, but once she had, her smile turned surprised.
"...very interesting."
The yumemi merely bowed his head in silence. He had no desire to watch.
Another heartbeat, and then the image dissolved, falling away like a swirl of snow in wind. "And that's all you see for him.... for them?"
When Kakyou spoke again, his voice was strained with distant sorrow. "At this time. Yes."
"It's the cruellest emotion, isn't it, Kakyou?"
".....It can be," he relented after a few heartbeats more; what might have been the tragic ghost of a smile drifted across his face. "...But it can also be the most beautiful thing in the world."
Her voice was slightly distant now. "And the first time you let it in..."
Kakyou straightened a little, voice decidedly tense now. "Is that all, Kanoe-san?" he repeated.
And her smile changed.
"Actually..."
Her fingers tightened a little on his arm, not threatening... almost reassuring.
He supressed another sigh. "Yes?"
"Shall we make a bet?"
Kakyou twisted around to look up at her fully for the first time, surprise coloring his tone.
"A bet?"
* * *
For five-thirty on a weekday, Nakano Sun Plaza was oddly empty.
The watery afternoon light was still clear, if grey; shadows were little but smudges where they fell between buildings and benches. A chilly breath of wind snaked through the wide space with a sound like a ghost stirring in its sleep.
Beneath the stone and concrete, the lines of a kekkai thrummed softly with protective power. And above that stone, a man in a black trenchcoat was nudging at those lines.
He stretched his othersense cautiously, almost tapping at the ancient energy with his own dark magic, like an animal testing the bars of its cage with paws and teeth.
But someone was hunting that black-clad figure.
A whisp of white, as abrupt as the flash of heat lightning in the night, fluttered across the rooftops. Raw, pure power began to wash out across the Plaza, spreading, falling like snow, coating the surrounding area with the ancient power of the Sumeragi clan.
A slender figure dropped down from the rooftops with catlike grace. That great swell of power pushed warningly at dark energy. Green eyes glittered, resting on the man in the black trenchcoat steadily.
The man turned slightly, very slightly, as if he had merely felt a breath across the back of his neck. Then, in a fluid movement, he pivoted, moving easily through a half-circle. The wind kicked up again, catching him in mid-turn so that his coat spread wide around his body like black wings, and a dull glint of late-afternoon light flashed grey off his sunglasses.
The other stood quite still; he was reminiscent of a gazelle that has scented a lion and must decide which way to dart. Those deep green eyes were fixed on the other's face unwaveringly. He seemed as though he were waiting for an acknowledgement of some kind.
There was a moment of silence--and then it came.
The older man smiled, a slow smile, and raised a hand to his face to pull off his sunglasses. His eyes stayed closed for just a moment as he folded the shades and slid them into the breast pocket of his trenchcoat; another heartbeat and he glanced up.
One of his eyes was honey-gold, the other opal with blindness.
The younger man swallowed noticeably, jaw tightening slightly as though considering words. He apparently decided against it, as the silence remained unbroken, and instead continued to gaze across the Plaza.
So many questions to ask. So many things never said. No chance now.
The black-clad man's smile quirked and grew just a bit wider, a faint edge on it--
And then he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes.
The logo was a blue and silver blur, but the words on it--Mild Sevens--were familiar enough that his companion didn't have to see them clearly to know what they were. With long, graceful fingers he tapped out a single white cylinder and lifted it to his lips, his movements fluid.
Instinctively the younger man reached for the pocket of his own trenchcoat, fingertips brushing and then curling around his own pack and lighter, but still he didn't move forward.
The other seemed to sense the movement, glancing up to give him a look that might have been mildly expectant as he set the cigarette between his lips, then rummaged in his own pockets as if looking for a lighter. His smile was still pleasantly unreadable. Something in that expression propelled the younger forward, like a puppet whose strings have been tugged. In complete silence he slunk over, withdrawing his own lighter from his pocket and calmly igniting the other man's cigarette.
And something in that moment was tense with silent awareness. They were within striking distance of each other, within perfect attack range, and a single decisive blow from either of them would shatter this tension with death.
But neither of them drew away.
The older man leaned in just enough to ensure that the light caught properly, then inhaled deeply--held the smoke in for a moment--and turned his head to exhale a thin stream of grey over his companion's shoulder. The smoke, oddly enough, carried the faint scent of something growing (incense? sakura?), and when he turned his mismatched eyes back to the younger man, there might almost have been something warm in the depths of his one good eye.
Almost.
His next words were very nearly a purr, spoken in a voice like dark and bitter chocolate--
"Thank you ever so much."
There was something in the green eyes of the younger-- a question, perhaps, or maybe an accusation... or maybe a declaration of something there was never a chance to say before. His head was cocked, brow furrowed very, very faintly. A miniscule frown tugged at the corners of his lips. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn't yet have the words.
The hand that held his cigarette dropped to the elder's side; the moment passed in motionless silence, neither man's expression changing.
And then very suddenly his free hand was wrapped around his companion's wrist, strong fingers holding him firmly, and a single powerful tug brought the younger man very close to him. His lips were a breath from the back of the other's hand, warmth moving steadily across the sensitive skin.
The predator's touch probably should have been cold, but it wasn't.
A soft sound escaped the other; maybe a gasp of surprise, maybe fear, maybe anticipation. He shifted, leaning his weight back and away from the older man, but his eyes remained riveted on the other's face. Tension vibrated all through his lean frame, though he held himself still with great effort.
Captured prey.
His hunter leaned forward, bowing his head so that his lips barely brushed the swell of a knuckle.
"A lighter..." A faint hint of amusement crept into his tone. "You've started smoking, haven't you, Subaru-kun?"
A visible shiver rippled through Subaru at the feeling of breath against his skin--so close, so intimate... so false.
His breathing was noticeably quickened. He didn't grace the older man with a response. The faint scent of tobacco on his fingers and the presence of the lighter itself were answer enough.
He shifted to caress the back of Subaru's hand with his thumb, stirring a tingle of dark power into life beneath his veins along the lines of a now-invisible scar. The thrum of old blood magic, combined with the young man's racing pulse, made Subaru's skin nearly sing.
The predator smiled brightly.
"That's not good for you at all."
How dare he. How dare he even feign caring? With a quiet snarl Subaru jerked away, clutching the offended hand to his chest, and fixed the older man with an expression of deep-seated contempt.
"I've been searching for you for a long time, Seishirou-san." His gentle voice was hard was controlled anger. Seishirou lifted his cigarette to his lips again and took a deep drag, his eyes never leaving Subaru.
"Oh? Why?"
Subaru drew in a deep breath, struggling for his composure once more, and cupped his hands together in front of him, the gesture almost defiant. His eyes never left Seishirou's.
"To make my Wish...."
The transparent green star rose up and up above the Plaza, enveloping the entire area in protective, faintly humming energy, cocooning the two men together within.
"...a reality."
There was a bit of a silence following that.
And then Seishirou covered his mouth with one hand, his mismatched eyes suddenly bright with what looked like... suppressed laughter?
"....Well?" Subaru scowled for a moment before he caught himself and schooled his expression back into stoic stillness. He was growing increasingly frustrated--amazing how just a few minutes in Seishirou's company could set him on edge.
The older man took a quick pull on his cigarette and let the smoke out before speaking again. "The Seven Seals--no, wait." A moment's thought, and he had the right words. "Your clan teaches it as the Dragons of Heaven, correct?"
Subaru just nodded once, very slightly; this was true. He offered nothing else.
"Those destined to save humanity from destruction... and you're one of them."
Subaru frowned faintly, then shook his head, raising a hand in front of his face; the other held a spray of ofuda at his side.
"...I don't care about the fate of the Earth."
And then without warning the ofuda were leaving Subaru's fingers, aimed with deadly precision--the young clanhead was already calling out the chant to form his shikigami, eyes narrowed in concentration.
The assassin frowned as the shikigami came screaming toward him. He'd expected the boy to be powerful, but... anger seemed to have made him sharper, faster, more efficient.
If Subaru had looked, he would have found something distantly like surprise on Seishirou's face.
Then the moment snapped in half, and the Sakurazukamori raised his arm, channeling power through his fingertips and down to the glowing end of his cigarette. He let that power guide his hand, tracing a blood-red inverted pentagram in the air just in front of him; the shikigami slammed against it and were violently cancelled out, each nearly exploding in a little burst of blood.
Subaru already had a second handful of ofuda leaving his fingertips, flying towards Seishirou with that same frightening accuracy. The teenaged Subaru would not have been near so practiced in battle and offensive magic.
But Subaru was no longer the sweet, innocent little boy he'd once been.
Another sharply called chant, and the slips of spelled paper were transformed once more into furiously shrieking doves, diving for the Sakurazukamori with claws outstretched.
Seishirou pulled in a deep breath, centering himself, and a dark shape blurred into existence above his arm--a spirit-hawk, wide wings outstretched.
Now he could begin in earnest.
With almost athletic grace he leapt forward, countering Subaru's shikigami with a wave of black ofuda this time; the hawk took off, keening loudly as its master surged relentlessly towards his prey.
Another fierce gesture from the younger man, and a blazing white star of power erupted up around the dark onmyouji, centering him directly in the middle. Its shape burned into the stone below it, so intense was that surge. Subaru squinted faintly, putting his full concentration into holding that attack.
Seishirou threw up an arm to shield his eyes from the shards of concrete and stone that went flying--a little too late; one skidded across his cheek with a little razor-twinge of pain, and the stinging wetness across his cheek let him know he was bleeding.
Touché.
He curled his hands, directing a blast of his own power downwards to seal off the lines of magic beneath him. As the stone shuddered and ceased to crack, it made the shape he stood in clear to him--a pentagram, the shape that had tied them together for so long.
He glanced up with dangerously narrowed eyes, his smile sliding back into place.
"Is it your wish to kill me?"
The younger onmyouji stilled at that.
Maybe if you think that, this won't be so hard... after all...
Seishirou raised a hand to his cheek, catching the long trickle of blood that was slowly making its way down the pale curve of skin there.
"...or perhaps you have made a wrong assumption, Subaru-kun."
Subaru seemed almost hypnotized by that movement, the sluggish roll of blood across Seishirou's face--
If he can bleed maybe he really is human after all...
--and he held still; something in him felt almost as though the moment would break if he moved even the slightest inch.
And then Seishirou was laughing, the sound bright and cheerful and only faintly hollow.
"You really are too cute, Subaru-kun!"
Subaru started a little at that, genuinely caught off guard. For a moment his expression was confused, questioning. Vulnerable.
"Perhaps you still have quite a bit to learn..." Seishirou smiled, and rubbed the smear of bright blood between his fingers, slowly, his gaze never moving from his adversary's face, watching as the vulnerability melted smoothly into anger. Real anger.
So many years of training, dismissed with such casual ease. Oh, Seishirou-san, you shouldn't've said that... The situation seemed so useless all of a sudden. For a moment Subaru was vaguely, bitterly amused. ....There goes all the meaning in my life.
His jaw tightened. "Maybe you're the one who has something to learn, Seishirou-san."
Seishirou's long hands moved, very slightly and very slowly; he was tracing a pattern on the back of one hand with a bloodied fingertip. "I'm all ears."
It was at that moment that realization struck Subaru full in the face; immediately he shifted into a defensive posture, bracing himself for the worst. Though he couldn't see it, he knew what the pattern on the back of Seishirou's hand was--the seed syllable om, the key word of every spell. When the elder onmyouji cast a spell, this blood writing would charge it with still more dark power, enough to make the air ripple with fire and shadow...
Seishirou lifted his hand.
And did nothing.
Subaru was tense, on the alert for any sign of attack. All his weight rested on his back foot, and with his hands still raised in that desperate gesture of defense... it was as though he was waiting for the older man's attack to overwhelm him.
And when it didn't, he faltered a little, faint, hopeless confusion replacing his expression of near-fear.
"...What are you waiting for?" he asked at last.
Seishirou opened his eyes and looked straight at Subaru, something flickering beneath his smile for just an instant. It wasn't emotion, but nor was it contempt--merely a hint of darkness, like a quietly spoken challenge.
Subaru very nearly flinched away, but with a forcible effort he managed to prevent himself from such an extreme response. That fleeting flicker was enough to put him right back on alert, however; his entire body was stiff with anticipatory tension.
The older man chuckled softly at that, then closed his eyes again. When he spoke, his deep voice rang across the empty Plaza, rich and low.
"On asan magini unhatta."
"On bazaragini hayashi hattaya sowaka..." Subaru almost closed his eyes as he began to chant, aware that his protective spell wasn't quite up to par. He'd been waiting for this for so long. So very long.
The predator advanced another step, the power in his hand thrumming with its own nearly wild pulse; currents of dark magic swirled around Subaru, cold as high tide.
"On asan magini unhatta..."
It was like looking death in the face, cold and calm and somehow, eerily welcoming.
Subaru shoved back gamely with his own power, aware of the futility of this fight, that it was his own choice that made it this way, and that he still hadn't told Seishirou exactly what he felt. "Nnn..."
He felt the older man's focus shift and sharpen briefly, the last few words shunting energy into his outstretched hand--
"On basara toshikoku."
--which was suddenly sharp as a knife, sharp enough to slice through the protective spell with a ripple of icy wind.
He was caught off guard by it even when it did finally come. With a soft cry Subaru stumbled back, dark energy--pain--burning across his chest all the way down to his waist. And it hurt, yes, but at the same time it was relieving. The end was coming soon, and he wouldn't have to look into those dual-colored eyes ever again and feel the singing hatred that discolored his heart. Wheezing, Subaru sagged to his knees, clutching at his wounded chest in pain.
Almost immediately Seishirou's hand fell to his side; he approached with measured steps, avoiding the spatters of blood that marked the concrete with balanced, practiced grace.
An ofuda slipped easily into Subaru's hand from within his coat, and with a yell he surged forward, preparing to throw in a last ditch attack.
Seishirou moved so fast the motion wasn't even a blur.
In one moment he was a few paces from Subaru, and in the next he was towering over the younger man, Subaru's wrist trapped firmly in his hand and one bloodstained fingertip pressed against his cheek.
The ofuda fluttered to the ground as their wielder's hand released them in surprise and dismay and sudden heat and he was suddenly having trouble breathing. His expression was one of pure and utter fury--
Just finish it, Seishirou-san--!
--and he glared up at the dark onmyouji, unable to quite hide the slight shuddering that threatened to overcome him. Seishirou's blood was smearing across his face, but Subaru didn't notice that. He was threatening to drown in that one warm brown eye.
As his finger moved slowly across his cheek, Seishirou leaned down so that Subaru could nearly taste his breath across his lips.
"What is it you think you know, Subaru-kun?"
Subaru's chest was heaving as he struggled to calm himself and failed; each indrawn breath burned like fire as it jarred his wound.
"...I hate you."
The words bubbled up and passed his lips before he could catch himself. The brief pause that followed their passage was agonizing.
The moment hung suspended, cold and breathless, before Seishirou's smile froze and widened. His eyes narrowed again, and the look in them could have shattered steel.
"Perhaps I do have something to learn."
His fingers slipped from Subaru's cheek, down towards the warmth of his throat; his touch just skimmed the curve of Subaru's jawline.
Subaru couldn't help himself--he was shaking now, very slightly, eyes slipping closed as the adrenaline of the fight slid away from him and left him feeling cold and empty, despite the fire that seemed to follow Seishirou's fingers across his skin. Subaru's lips parted slightly to allow a shaky breath of air to escape, and a new one to be drawn in.
He was afraid.
What was he afraid of?
"...Don't."
Perhaps it didn't need to be said what Subaru feared.
But Seishirou's hand was already curling around the curve of Subaru's throat, gently, just resting over the pulse--warm skin on warm skin, and that heartbeat so immediate...
It might have been a threatening gesture, but somehow it seemed very intimate.
"I'll see you soon, Subaru-kun," he said.
...and then suddenly he was drawing back, his dark shape melting and shifting and changing until he was little more than a flurry of sakura petals spiraling out into the cold afternoon wind.
Every fiber of his being cried out for the older man to wait as those damnable pink petals started to swirl around him once more. He wanted to know why he was still alive, why this was all there was, all there ever was.
But he didn't.
Instead Subaru sat back where he was, staring upwards as those petals flutter and disappear on the non-existant wind, aching, hurting, and wanting irrationally to scream at the unfairness of it all.
A rooftop away, the First of the Seven Seals grinned rakishly.
"Hella lot of power," the young man remarked, his voice thick with a long-ingrained Kansai accent and the energy of youth. "I'm glad he's on our side."
The girl at his side glanced at him briefly, not quite raising an eyebrow. She was silent; his enthusiasm for the whole affair was, quite frankly, beyond her.
"What?" he demanded, taking in her icy look. "I'm just sayin'."
She averted her eyes again pointedly, clearing her throat. "Do we approach?"
"Well, we sure can't waste time about it." He adjusted his jacket, then gave her a lopsided grin. "Ladies first."
She rolled her eyes in evident disgust and leapt off the rooftop without hesitation or even a second glance. The young monk bounded after her, still smiling, raising a hand to brush at a swirl of petals that fluttered past his cheek.
Below in the plaza, Subaru cupped his hands together again in a sweeping motion, wearily withdrawing his kekkai. He was well aware of the two formitable power sources approaching him across the rooftops, but he paid them no attention. He didn't feel like being civil right then. He felt like going home, curling up in bed, and bleeding to death.
His chest hurt.
The two Seals touched down at the edge of the Plaza; both hesitated, but after a moment, that strong accented voice rang out.
"Sir?"
The young onmyouji sighed quietly, and turned to face the two teenagers, his expression schooled into blank calm. He had one hand pressed against the still bleeding slash across his chest, but other than that, he appeared ethereal, inhuman--his brilliantly green eyes were almost unnerving as they fixed unblinkingly on the boy.
He fidgeted, and nudged his companion, as if urging her to say something.
The girl took a few steps forward, then realized she was being presumptuous, and immediately bowed low. "Excuse us..."
"We, uh, were just wonderin'--"
"That was... a kekkai, wasn't it?" the girl added awkwardly.
Subaru remained silent. He wasn't going to give any ground, though he had some idea what what they wanted.
"We're like you," the boy explained. "Two of the Seals Princess Hinoto's been gatherin'. This is Kishuu Arashi--" he gestured at the girl, and then grinned. "And I'm Arisugawa Sorata, her future sweet lover!"
Arashi crossed her arms, scowling. Rude and presumptuous. They hadn't even known each other that long, and she was already beginning to think that Sorata might be driving her crazy.
For a moment Subaru just looked at them blankly. The he reached down and calmly pulled up the torn lower half of his black t-shirt, realizing belatedly that he was showing a considerable amount of his lower torso.
Sorata's eyes widened when he saw Subaru's hand begin to gravitate down, and he was suddenly stammering, his tone only half-joking. "Whoa, dude. I don't swing that way, and if I did, I don't even know yer name--"
Subaru blinked, momentarily confused... then his eyes narrowed, expression changing from blankness to irritated embarassment. "Sumeragi Subaru," he said, trying to cover his embarassement with hostility.
The young monk blinked rapidly.
"So you are the clan head! We called up Kyoto and they said you weren't--"
And then, for the first time, he noticed the blood. "...whoa, jeez. Come with us? We can get you a bandage--"
"No." He said it a little more sharply than he meant to, and immediately his voice softened, returning to it's natural, gentle tones. His words, however, were spoken with cold, clipped politeness. "No. I don't want to have anything to do with this."
Arashi frowned. "But Kamui..."
"At least let us get you fixed up, you look like hell--real pretty, but hell."
And there Subaru hesitated.
Going with them meant giving in, he knew, to the pull of his destiny. And that was the last thing he wanted.
But he hurt, in body and in heart, and for some reason the idea of crawling home to bed had stopped appealing to him so much.
He shot a cautious glance at Arashi, who nodded back to him politely, and he sighed.
"....If you... insist."