AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is for choopiggy, who asked for more of Tamahome and wrote me a looooooovely long email of praise and criticism. Arrigato, and here's some Tama-chan to tide you over! ^_^.
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"The Last Wish" - continued from 11
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"Tamahome?"
The seventeen-year-old glanced up from the tensed folds of his clasped hands, cast a hopeful glance at the approaching figure...and sighed, seeing the lines of tension and worry creasing the older boy's face. "You didn't find her," he said flatly.
Hotohori shook his head, sending a wash of chestnut hair flooding over his shoulders. Drawing in a soft breath, he lowered himself regally onto the cafeteria stool beside the younger man, folded his hands on the table in front of him. "No," he admitted quietly. "There's no sign of her...Nuriko, either. Kayaki-san says neither of them have been in class since second period."
Tamahome let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, pressed his face into his hands. "Damn her," he growled. "Going off like this...not telling anyone...and, after that panic attack or whatever it was this afternoon..."
Hotohori studied his friend closely for a moment, then shrugged slightly. "Nuriko is with her," he said evenly. "At least she's not entirely by herself."
The dark-haired boy slammed his palms down on the table, let out a frustred huff of air through his lips. "But, damn it, it should be ME out there with her! I should've been the one with her when she collapsed...I should've been the one with her when she was in trouble...but, it wasn't me. It was Nuriko..." He trailed off, spent a long moment of silence gazing dully at the far wall, brow creased in thought. "Hotohori," he said quietly after a moment. "Do you think...do you think that Miaka and...and Nuriko..."
Hotohori's eyes widened, just slightly. "Miaka and Nuriko?" he echoed incredulously. "Tamahome..."
The younger boy shook his head, again pressed his hands against his eyes, leaned his elbows on the table. "I know, I know. It sounds stupid...but..." He lowered his hands, shook his head. "I don't know. Something seems...different about Nuriko lately."
Those amber eyes were on him, then, strong and dark beneath the shallow flourescent lights. "Nuriko would never do that to you, Tamahome," he said firmly. "You know that. And, Miaka..." He sighed softly, lowered his head. "Miaka loves you. She always has."
Noticing the sudden wistfulness in the older man's voice, Tamahome drew in a short breath, struggled for a moment to find the correct words. "Hotohori," he said at last, gazing over at the man with wide, dark eyes, "about what happened at Miaka's birthday last year--"
Hotohori raised a slim hand, cut the younger off before he could say anything more. "That was a long time ago, Tamahome," he murmured. "Don't apologize for it now."
Tamahome blinked. "But..."
"No buts." The chestnut-haired eighteen-year-old smiled, rose regally to his feet. "You can apologize after we've found Miaka and Nuriko. Until then..." He stretched down a hand, grasped onto Tamahome's thinner fingers, and pulled the boy to his feet. "Until then," he continued, "we need to focus on figuring out where they went and getting there as soon as possible. Miaka could be in danger."
"Oi! Tama!"
The two turned, watched as a cheery-looking Tasuki pushed and picked his way through the crowded lunchroom, a tray filled entirely with breadsticks and chocolate milk cartons balanced in his hands. When he'd reached them, he dropped the tray noisily onto the table, made a show of rubbing his hands together and sliding onto the stool.
Hotohori cleared his throat. "Tasuki," he said shortly. "We're going to find Miaka."
Tasuki raised an eyebrow, half of a breadstick already hanging from his lips. "Ehhhhhhhh? Goin' to find Miaka?"
"Hai."
The flame-haired boy seemed to spend a moment debating, glancing from his breadsticks to his friends and back to his breadsticks...then, finally, he took one last bite, shoved the lunch tray in the direction of the boy across the table, and rose to his feet. "All right!" he exclaimed. "Let's get goin'!" He paused, then, frowned slightly. "Oi...where is Miaka, anyway?"
Tamahome let out a low growl...but, Hotohori answered first, casting a calming glance in the younger man's direction as he did so. "We don't know where she is," he explained quickly. "She and Nuriko have been missing since just after second period."
"Ahhhhh!" Tasuki exclaimed, nodding knowingly and grinning. He took a short step forward, nudged Tamahome in the ribs with an elbow. "Hehehhhh, Tama...Miaka dumped ya for the okama, huh?"
Noticing Tamahome beginning to flush a bright, angry red, Hotohori stepped between the two, let out a soft breath of air through his nostrils. "It's not like that, Tasuki," he said quietly. "We can discuss it later. Right now...we need to find Miaka."
Tasuki sighed, nodded quickly. "Hai, hai...let's go, then. Oi, but Tama..." He grinned. "Don't feel too bad about bein' dumped. I bet Miaka planned it this way, anyway! Kusooooooooo! Women are so cunning!"
Hotohori let out an exasperated sigh, began to walk towards the cafeteria exit. "Tasuki, please."
Eye twitching just slightly, Tamahome followed, the flame-haired boy trailing just behind him. A few moments later, they were moving silently through the mostly-deserted hallways, heading for the student parking lot at the back of the school. As they moved, they heard the tinny echoes of a piano chiming from the auditorium, accompanied by the rolling melodies of a familiar bass...
"Shimatta," Hotohori swore softly, looking longingly towards the auditorium door as they passed. "The musical...in all the excitement, I'd forgotten about the try-outs." He sighed, quickened his steps. "We have to find Miaka, though," he said firmly. His voice dropped. "Even though this is my last chance to showcase my talents on stage before graduation...and even though I'm the perfect choice for the starring role..." He trailed off and shook his head, a look of anguish in his eyes. "We must find Miaka first," he insisted. "Hai. She needs our help now...and, we can't forsake her for our own benefits...even if it is for the musical..."
"Ne, Tama," Tasuki whispered. "Is he gonna be okay?"
Tamahome nodded dully. "Hai, hai."
A few moments later, they'd managed to slip into the student parking lot without being spotted, were climbing into the luxurious interior of Hotohori's red convertible.
"No, no," Tamahome growled, latching onto the younger boy's arm and dragging him out of the car. "Tasuki, get in the back! I'm sitting up front."
Tasuki waved a finger. "Uh-uh-uhhhh, Tama. I called it!"
"Nuriko's car is missing," Hotohori interjected quietly. He closed his eyes briefly, pressed a fist into his palm. "Shimatta. This will be more difficult than I'd thought. They could be anywhere."
"I GET SHOTGUN, DAMN YOU!"
"No you @(#*$&$# DON'T! I CALLED IT!"
Hotohori let out another exasperated sigh. "Both of you, get into the back," he commanded. Then, without waiting for a response or even bothering to glance at his two passengers, he slid regally into the driver's seat, tugged the door shut behind him, and started the car.
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"The Last Wish" - continued from 11
~ ~ ~
"Tamahome?"
The seventeen-year-old glanced up from the tensed folds of his clasped hands, cast a hopeful glance at the approaching figure...and sighed, seeing the lines of tension and worry creasing the older boy's face. "You didn't find her," he said flatly.
Hotohori shook his head, sending a wash of chestnut hair flooding over his shoulders. Drawing in a soft breath, he lowered himself regally onto the cafeteria stool beside the younger man, folded his hands on the table in front of him. "No," he admitted quietly. "There's no sign of her...Nuriko, either. Kayaki-san says neither of them have been in class since second period."
Tamahome let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, pressed his face into his hands. "Damn her," he growled. "Going off like this...not telling anyone...and, after that panic attack or whatever it was this afternoon..."
Hotohori studied his friend closely for a moment, then shrugged slightly. "Nuriko is with her," he said evenly. "At least she's not entirely by herself."
The dark-haired boy slammed his palms down on the table, let out a frustred huff of air through his lips. "But, damn it, it should be ME out there with her! I should've been the one with her when she collapsed...I should've been the one with her when she was in trouble...but, it wasn't me. It was Nuriko..." He trailed off, spent a long moment of silence gazing dully at the far wall, brow creased in thought. "Hotohori," he said quietly after a moment. "Do you think...do you think that Miaka and...and Nuriko..."
Hotohori's eyes widened, just slightly. "Miaka and Nuriko?" he echoed incredulously. "Tamahome..."
The younger boy shook his head, again pressed his hands against his eyes, leaned his elbows on the table. "I know, I know. It sounds stupid...but..." He lowered his hands, shook his head. "I don't know. Something seems...different about Nuriko lately."
Those amber eyes were on him, then, strong and dark beneath the shallow flourescent lights. "Nuriko would never do that to you, Tamahome," he said firmly. "You know that. And, Miaka..." He sighed softly, lowered his head. "Miaka loves you. She always has."
Noticing the sudden wistfulness in the older man's voice, Tamahome drew in a short breath, struggled for a moment to find the correct words. "Hotohori," he said at last, gazing over at the man with wide, dark eyes, "about what happened at Miaka's birthday last year--"
Hotohori raised a slim hand, cut the younger off before he could say anything more. "That was a long time ago, Tamahome," he murmured. "Don't apologize for it now."
Tamahome blinked. "But..."
"No buts." The chestnut-haired eighteen-year-old smiled, rose regally to his feet. "You can apologize after we've found Miaka and Nuriko. Until then..." He stretched down a hand, grasped onto Tamahome's thinner fingers, and pulled the boy to his feet. "Until then," he continued, "we need to focus on figuring out where they went and getting there as soon as possible. Miaka could be in danger."
"Oi! Tama!"
The two turned, watched as a cheery-looking Tasuki pushed and picked his way through the crowded lunchroom, a tray filled entirely with breadsticks and chocolate milk cartons balanced in his hands. When he'd reached them, he dropped the tray noisily onto the table, made a show of rubbing his hands together and sliding onto the stool.
Hotohori cleared his throat. "Tasuki," he said shortly. "We're going to find Miaka."
Tasuki raised an eyebrow, half of a breadstick already hanging from his lips. "Ehhhhhhhh? Goin' to find Miaka?"
"Hai."
The flame-haired boy seemed to spend a moment debating, glancing from his breadsticks to his friends and back to his breadsticks...then, finally, he took one last bite, shoved the lunch tray in the direction of the boy across the table, and rose to his feet. "All right!" he exclaimed. "Let's get goin'!" He paused, then, frowned slightly. "Oi...where is Miaka, anyway?"
Tamahome let out a low growl...but, Hotohori answered first, casting a calming glance in the younger man's direction as he did so. "We don't know where she is," he explained quickly. "She and Nuriko have been missing since just after second period."
"Ahhhhh!" Tasuki exclaimed, nodding knowingly and grinning. He took a short step forward, nudged Tamahome in the ribs with an elbow. "Hehehhhh, Tama...Miaka dumped ya for the okama, huh?"
Noticing Tamahome beginning to flush a bright, angry red, Hotohori stepped between the two, let out a soft breath of air through his nostrils. "It's not like that, Tasuki," he said quietly. "We can discuss it later. Right now...we need to find Miaka."
Tasuki sighed, nodded quickly. "Hai, hai...let's go, then. Oi, but Tama..." He grinned. "Don't feel too bad about bein' dumped. I bet Miaka planned it this way, anyway! Kusooooooooo! Women are so cunning!"
Hotohori let out an exasperated sigh, began to walk towards the cafeteria exit. "Tasuki, please."
Eye twitching just slightly, Tamahome followed, the flame-haired boy trailing just behind him. A few moments later, they were moving silently through the mostly-deserted hallways, heading for the student parking lot at the back of the school. As they moved, they heard the tinny echoes of a piano chiming from the auditorium, accompanied by the rolling melodies of a familiar bass...
"Shimatta," Hotohori swore softly, looking longingly towards the auditorium door as they passed. "The musical...in all the excitement, I'd forgotten about the try-outs." He sighed, quickened his steps. "We have to find Miaka, though," he said firmly. His voice dropped. "Even though this is my last chance to showcase my talents on stage before graduation...and even though I'm the perfect choice for the starring role..." He trailed off and shook his head, a look of anguish in his eyes. "We must find Miaka first," he insisted. "Hai. She needs our help now...and, we can't forsake her for our own benefits...even if it is for the musical..."
"Ne, Tama," Tasuki whispered. "Is he gonna be okay?"
Tamahome nodded dully. "Hai, hai."
A few moments later, they'd managed to slip into the student parking lot without being spotted, were climbing into the luxurious interior of Hotohori's red convertible.
"No, no," Tamahome growled, latching onto the younger boy's arm and dragging him out of the car. "Tasuki, get in the back! I'm sitting up front."
Tasuki waved a finger. "Uh-uh-uhhhh, Tama. I called it!"
"Nuriko's car is missing," Hotohori interjected quietly. He closed his eyes briefly, pressed a fist into his palm. "Shimatta. This will be more difficult than I'd thought. They could be anywhere."
"I GET SHOTGUN, DAMN YOU!"
"No you @(#*$&$# DON'T! I CALLED IT!"
Hotohori let out another exasperated sigh. "Both of you, get into the back," he commanded. Then, without waiting for a response or even bothering to glance at his two passengers, he slid regally into the driver's seat, tugged the door shut behind him, and started the car.
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