The Last Wish - 17
~*~
A few hours passed before the doorbell rang. For some reason feeling cautious, Nuriko lifted himself onto his toes, peered out through the peephole. Auburn hair, tucked into meatball-shaped buns, a swish of silken chestnut--he reached for the knob, twisted it and tugged it towards him.
Miaka stepped in first, followed by Hotohori. And, behind them... Nuriko frowned, taking in the cropped blond-brown hair, the wide blue eyes, the light dust of freckles over the nose. "Suboshi? Why--"
Hotohori was in front of him, then, shaking his head lightly. "No, this isn't Suboshi. This is his twin brother, Amiboshi."
"Amiboshi?"
The boy nodded. He was dressed in a short-sleeved dress shirt, soft and colored a powdery blue, and both hands were slipped into the pockets of well-tailored khakis. One look at his face, and Nuriko was more than positive that what Hotohori said was true--despite the identical features, this was obviously not Suboshi. There was a kindness to these eyes, a warmth and compassion that he'd never seen on the face of this boy's violent, irritable twin.
Nuriko stepped forward, clasped the boy's hand briefly in his own. "It's nice to meet you," he said, managing to keep his voice friendly despite what the thoughts of this boy's twin brought to his mind. "I'm Ryuen--Chou Ryuen--but, everyone calls me Nuriko." He frowned slightly, watching as Amiboshi's hands slipped back into his pockets. "You don't go to our school, do you? Or, have I seen you and just thought you were your brother?"
Amiboshi shook his head gently. "No, I go to a private school a few miles from here. I'm off for spring break, and--well, when I heard about the accident... I would've come, even if hadn't been off."
Abruptly, Nuriko seemed to realize that they were standing in the entryway with the door standing open. He brushed past Amiboshi, pushed the front door closed with a soft click. "Let's sit down, ne?" Not bothering to see if they followed him, he turned and took off for the living room--three sets of footsteps thudded at his heels as he moved.
"Sorry it's a little messy," he apologized, gathering a stack of papers and books from the couch and tossing them into a corner. "My parents are visiting Rokou--that's my older brother," he added for Amiboshi's benefit, "--and so, of course, I'm in charge of keeping the house clean while they're gone." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "One room, I can do. A whole house...well, that's where I get into trouble."
"Daijobu," Amiboshi offered. He'd lowered himself onto the couch beside Miaka, and was now sitting with hands folded on his lap, smiling softly. "Messes are always easier to make than clean up."
Bloodied images of the Sou family flickered before his eyes at the words, made him wince. "Hai," he said quietly. "And, some messes can't be cleaned up at all."
"No," Amiboshi admitted, "but, that doesn't mean they can't be dealt with in other ways."
"Oh? Like what?"
The younger boy sighed softly, ran a hand through the brownish tufts of his hair. "I won't lie to you--any of you. This isn't the first time Suboshi's done something like this. When we were kids, he was always picking fights with people, and he hung out with these older kids all the time." Something like regret flickered in his eyes, which turned, at length, to Nuriko. "I was there that day, when your sister was..." He sighed and trailed off, glanced down at his hands. "You have to understand, my brother and I did everything together when we were younger. You probably didn't see me, but I was there. And, I was also with them when they caught your older brother--Rokou, you said his name was?--poking around Ayuru's car."
Miaka went suddenly stiff. "Ayuru," she whispered. "Why does...why does that name sound familiar?"
Nuriko, feeling vaguely uncomfortable at the shift in topics, nonetheless managed to dredge up the appropriate memory. "Ayuru," he echoed. "Isn't that the name of that guy Yui-chan was dating?"
"Yui-chan," Miaka murmured. She frowned and went silent, seeming to fall into deep thought.
Only Hotohori was still solemn and attentive, gazing at Amiboshi with a frown creasing his forehead. "What was Rokou doing to the car?"
The boy shrugged. "Nothing, as far as I could tell, just climbing around in it. I mean, it was a nice car--convertible, very expensive. A lotta kids wanted to get in it, but I guess nobody did except for your brother. It didn't seem like a big deal--he got out as soon as we came outside--but, for some reason, it made Ayuru really angry. I always wondered why he bothered to hang around with us--he was a lot older, in his late teens, I think, and we were all what? Eight? Ten? Anyway, Ayuru and Chuin--that was his best friend back then--told Kaen and the rest of us to go after your brother, and to take Ashitare along. That was his dog."
Nuriko felt cold. "I know," he whispered.
"We chased him into the woods, and...well, the rest of the story, you already know." Something like anguish trickled into his tone. "It was my brother's fault that Ashitare got loose. And, if you hadn't moved..."
Nuriko winced, the words, //Then Kourin wouldn't be dead,// coming unbidden to his mind.
Amiboshi didn't seem to notice, though, and plunged onward. "That day was the last time I ever hung out with them. I mean, somebody died, and it didn't bother them at all. Suboshi even looked--" His lip curled on the last word. "--pleased. It made me feel sick."
"It was you I saw," Nuriko murmured, suddenly remembering the image of that small boy, leaning against a tree trunk with change in his eyes. "I thought it was Suboshi..." There was a long, thoughtful pause before he spoke again. "So, why are you here now?"
That nameless sorrow touched his eyes again, shifting them into a deeper, richer blue. "I came here," Amiboshi said slowly, "first of all, to apologize. I...I know it isn't much, but I think someone needs to. Suboshi and I are twins, and so like it or not, he's a part of me. So...so, this is my part of the two of us, saying that I'm very, very sorry that something like this happened." There was a slight pause, then: "Second, I'm here to tell you that I'm not sure that it was...entirely an accident."
The room was suddenly deathly still.
"What?" Nuriko demanded at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean, you don't think it was -entirely- an accident?"
"Suboshi doesn't tell me much, anymore," Amiboshi went on quietly, "but I do know this. If he hates anyone on earth, it's Tamahome. I don't know what Tamahome did to make him hate him so much, but he does. A lot. There've been times, when I was home, when that was all he seemed to talk about."
Nuriko's voice was flat. "You don't just hate someone for no reason."
"I know. And, Suboshi probably doesn't, either, but whatever that reason is, he won't tell it, at least not to me. All I can think of is that it's something that started a long time ago, and's been building ever since. And, the fact that Tamahome humiliated him in class a few weeks ago didn't help it, I'm sure."
Miaka blinked, turned to the others questioniningly. "It was in gym class," Hotohori explained. "Suboshi was trying to convince Tamahome to fight him, but Tamahome refused. Suboshi jumped at him...and, Tamahome dodged. Suboshi hit into the lockers, knocked loose a few teeth and had to go to the nurse. When the nurse asked him about it, Tamahome said that Suboshi had tripped."
"It must've infuriated him," Amiboshi added softly. "Mercy, from the person he hated."
"Now, wait," Nuriko said, leaning forward in his chair. His elbow touched against his knees, and his chin sank onto his palm. "Are you saying that Suboshi killed Tamahome's family on -purpose-?"
The younger boy shook his head, very lightly. "No," he said. "I'm not saying that, not exactly. What I -am- saying is this: it's an awful coincidence that when Suboshi wrecks into someone, it just happens to be the family of the one person he hates more than anybody else in the world. Suboshi doesn't drink, he never has, so why was he this time? It could just be a coincidence, or it could be that he needed that cover to change murder into manslaughter."
"No." Miaka sat up straight on the couch, shook her head almost violently. "No, no, I can't believe that. No one could be that cruel, not even Suboshi. Those...those kids..." Abruptly, something like a memory flickered onto her face. "It's just like...like last time," she whispered. Her eyes went immediately to Nuriko, and the violet-haired boy shifted a bit uncomfortably beneath her gaze.
"Yes," said Amiboshi, misunderstanding, "but last time, I don't think he was -trying- to get anyone killed. This time...I don't know. But, whatever the case, I thought you should know. If Suboshi really did this on purpose, if he -really- hit Tamahome's family's car with the intention to kill them, then I doubt he'll stop there. Tamahome needs to be careful. You all do. I've never seen Suboshi like this before. He's...unstable."
Hotohori was frowning slightly. "Unstable or not, he is still -one- boy. How much damage can he do?"
Amiboshi's voice was cool. "Ask Tamahome's family that."
Miaka winced as if she'd been struck, and all present were surprised to find a sheen of tears in her eyes. "This is all my fault," she whimpered, bringing a hand to her face. "I-If I hadn't...if I hadn't been so selfish..."
"Selfish?" Nuriko frowned. "Miaka, you can't possibly blame yourself for this..."
The girl shook her head, rose to her feet and gave a small sob. "You don't understand," she whispered. She ran from the room. A moment later, they heard the thud of her shoes against the stairs, the click of the bathroom door slamming shut.
After a few moments of silence, Hotohori locked gazes with Nuriko, slim eyebrows pressing together on his forehead. "Why would she think this was her fault?" he asked quietly.
Nuriko shook his head, an aching suspicion starting to gnaw at his mind. "I don't know," he said, "but I think...I think it might have something to do with something she said at school. Something about..." He frowned. "About people dying. In a...a book."
"A book?"
He nodded. "Ee, a book." He lifted his hands a bit, watched the light glittering off the metal of his bracelets. "It had something to do with these, and...with an old woman." His voice sank a bit. "She thought people were going to die if she couldn't find her, and...I guess she couldn't."
Hotohori pursed his lips. "Strange," he murmured.
"No," said Amiboshi--his voice sounded odd, strained. "No, not strange." Suddenly, his eyes were wide and blue, boring into Nuriko with eerie intensity. "What did she say about a book?"
Nuriko frowned. "Not much. I think she said something about people dying in a book, but--" The frown deepened. "--people we know."
"Like who?"
"Me, for one. Chiriko--Mitsukake's adopted son, you remember, ne, Hotohori? And..." His eyes shifted to the chestnut-haired eighteen-year-old, and he was suddenly silent. "I don't know what she was talking about," he went on in a soft voice. "But, whatever it was, it really scared her."
"A book. A book." Amiboshi was suddenly on his feet, pacing listlessly from one side of the room to the other. "This is strange. Really strange."
"What is?" Nuriko leaned back in his chair, studied the younger boy as he moved.
Finally, Amiboshi paused, turned back to the two with something like confusion on his face. "It's just that...Ayuru and Chuin were always talking about a book, and, about...well, people we know dying in it. It was weird. Suboshi was always trying to tell me about it, something about constellations and fate and one of us dying if we didn't change things, but...I don't know. It always kind of creeped me out."
Something thudded above them, breaking into their thoughts. "Stay here," Nuriko said, rising a little unsteadily from his chair. "I'll be right back. Tamahome probably rolled out of bed again."
He swept out of the room and made for the stairs, leaving Hotohori and Amiboshi alone in the living room.
---
AN: Sorry to leave off here, but I'm being threatened. -_-;; Thus, I also apologize if there are any typos in this. I'll read over this again in a few hours, once I've finished *sweatdrop* cleaning my room, and the Wrath of Maternal Instinct is no longer hovering above my head, ready to strike. Ah, and look! Almost at a hundred reviews!! Who'll be the one to set me over? Oh, the excitement! *claps hands together*
~*~
A few hours passed before the doorbell rang. For some reason feeling cautious, Nuriko lifted himself onto his toes, peered out through the peephole. Auburn hair, tucked into meatball-shaped buns, a swish of silken chestnut--he reached for the knob, twisted it and tugged it towards him.
Miaka stepped in first, followed by Hotohori. And, behind them... Nuriko frowned, taking in the cropped blond-brown hair, the wide blue eyes, the light dust of freckles over the nose. "Suboshi? Why--"
Hotohori was in front of him, then, shaking his head lightly. "No, this isn't Suboshi. This is his twin brother, Amiboshi."
"Amiboshi?"
The boy nodded. He was dressed in a short-sleeved dress shirt, soft and colored a powdery blue, and both hands were slipped into the pockets of well-tailored khakis. One look at his face, and Nuriko was more than positive that what Hotohori said was true--despite the identical features, this was obviously not Suboshi. There was a kindness to these eyes, a warmth and compassion that he'd never seen on the face of this boy's violent, irritable twin.
Nuriko stepped forward, clasped the boy's hand briefly in his own. "It's nice to meet you," he said, managing to keep his voice friendly despite what the thoughts of this boy's twin brought to his mind. "I'm Ryuen--Chou Ryuen--but, everyone calls me Nuriko." He frowned slightly, watching as Amiboshi's hands slipped back into his pockets. "You don't go to our school, do you? Or, have I seen you and just thought you were your brother?"
Amiboshi shook his head gently. "No, I go to a private school a few miles from here. I'm off for spring break, and--well, when I heard about the accident... I would've come, even if hadn't been off."
Abruptly, Nuriko seemed to realize that they were standing in the entryway with the door standing open. He brushed past Amiboshi, pushed the front door closed with a soft click. "Let's sit down, ne?" Not bothering to see if they followed him, he turned and took off for the living room--three sets of footsteps thudded at his heels as he moved.
"Sorry it's a little messy," he apologized, gathering a stack of papers and books from the couch and tossing them into a corner. "My parents are visiting Rokou--that's my older brother," he added for Amiboshi's benefit, "--and so, of course, I'm in charge of keeping the house clean while they're gone." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "One room, I can do. A whole house...well, that's where I get into trouble."
"Daijobu," Amiboshi offered. He'd lowered himself onto the couch beside Miaka, and was now sitting with hands folded on his lap, smiling softly. "Messes are always easier to make than clean up."
Bloodied images of the Sou family flickered before his eyes at the words, made him wince. "Hai," he said quietly. "And, some messes can't be cleaned up at all."
"No," Amiboshi admitted, "but, that doesn't mean they can't be dealt with in other ways."
"Oh? Like what?"
The younger boy sighed softly, ran a hand through the brownish tufts of his hair. "I won't lie to you--any of you. This isn't the first time Suboshi's done something like this. When we were kids, he was always picking fights with people, and he hung out with these older kids all the time." Something like regret flickered in his eyes, which turned, at length, to Nuriko. "I was there that day, when your sister was..." He sighed and trailed off, glanced down at his hands. "You have to understand, my brother and I did everything together when we were younger. You probably didn't see me, but I was there. And, I was also with them when they caught your older brother--Rokou, you said his name was?--poking around Ayuru's car."
Miaka went suddenly stiff. "Ayuru," she whispered. "Why does...why does that name sound familiar?"
Nuriko, feeling vaguely uncomfortable at the shift in topics, nonetheless managed to dredge up the appropriate memory. "Ayuru," he echoed. "Isn't that the name of that guy Yui-chan was dating?"
"Yui-chan," Miaka murmured. She frowned and went silent, seeming to fall into deep thought.
Only Hotohori was still solemn and attentive, gazing at Amiboshi with a frown creasing his forehead. "What was Rokou doing to the car?"
The boy shrugged. "Nothing, as far as I could tell, just climbing around in it. I mean, it was a nice car--convertible, very expensive. A lotta kids wanted to get in it, but I guess nobody did except for your brother. It didn't seem like a big deal--he got out as soon as we came outside--but, for some reason, it made Ayuru really angry. I always wondered why he bothered to hang around with us--he was a lot older, in his late teens, I think, and we were all what? Eight? Ten? Anyway, Ayuru and Chuin--that was his best friend back then--told Kaen and the rest of us to go after your brother, and to take Ashitare along. That was his dog."
Nuriko felt cold. "I know," he whispered.
"We chased him into the woods, and...well, the rest of the story, you already know." Something like anguish trickled into his tone. "It was my brother's fault that Ashitare got loose. And, if you hadn't moved..."
Nuriko winced, the words, //Then Kourin wouldn't be dead,// coming unbidden to his mind.
Amiboshi didn't seem to notice, though, and plunged onward. "That day was the last time I ever hung out with them. I mean, somebody died, and it didn't bother them at all. Suboshi even looked--" His lip curled on the last word. "--pleased. It made me feel sick."
"It was you I saw," Nuriko murmured, suddenly remembering the image of that small boy, leaning against a tree trunk with change in his eyes. "I thought it was Suboshi..." There was a long, thoughtful pause before he spoke again. "So, why are you here now?"
That nameless sorrow touched his eyes again, shifting them into a deeper, richer blue. "I came here," Amiboshi said slowly, "first of all, to apologize. I...I know it isn't much, but I think someone needs to. Suboshi and I are twins, and so like it or not, he's a part of me. So...so, this is my part of the two of us, saying that I'm very, very sorry that something like this happened." There was a slight pause, then: "Second, I'm here to tell you that I'm not sure that it was...entirely an accident."
The room was suddenly deathly still.
"What?" Nuriko demanded at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean, you don't think it was -entirely- an accident?"
"Suboshi doesn't tell me much, anymore," Amiboshi went on quietly, "but I do know this. If he hates anyone on earth, it's Tamahome. I don't know what Tamahome did to make him hate him so much, but he does. A lot. There've been times, when I was home, when that was all he seemed to talk about."
Nuriko's voice was flat. "You don't just hate someone for no reason."
"I know. And, Suboshi probably doesn't, either, but whatever that reason is, he won't tell it, at least not to me. All I can think of is that it's something that started a long time ago, and's been building ever since. And, the fact that Tamahome humiliated him in class a few weeks ago didn't help it, I'm sure."
Miaka blinked, turned to the others questioniningly. "It was in gym class," Hotohori explained. "Suboshi was trying to convince Tamahome to fight him, but Tamahome refused. Suboshi jumped at him...and, Tamahome dodged. Suboshi hit into the lockers, knocked loose a few teeth and had to go to the nurse. When the nurse asked him about it, Tamahome said that Suboshi had tripped."
"It must've infuriated him," Amiboshi added softly. "Mercy, from the person he hated."
"Now, wait," Nuriko said, leaning forward in his chair. His elbow touched against his knees, and his chin sank onto his palm. "Are you saying that Suboshi killed Tamahome's family on -purpose-?"
The younger boy shook his head, very lightly. "No," he said. "I'm not saying that, not exactly. What I -am- saying is this: it's an awful coincidence that when Suboshi wrecks into someone, it just happens to be the family of the one person he hates more than anybody else in the world. Suboshi doesn't drink, he never has, so why was he this time? It could just be a coincidence, or it could be that he needed that cover to change murder into manslaughter."
"No." Miaka sat up straight on the couch, shook her head almost violently. "No, no, I can't believe that. No one could be that cruel, not even Suboshi. Those...those kids..." Abruptly, something like a memory flickered onto her face. "It's just like...like last time," she whispered. Her eyes went immediately to Nuriko, and the violet-haired boy shifted a bit uncomfortably beneath her gaze.
"Yes," said Amiboshi, misunderstanding, "but last time, I don't think he was -trying- to get anyone killed. This time...I don't know. But, whatever the case, I thought you should know. If Suboshi really did this on purpose, if he -really- hit Tamahome's family's car with the intention to kill them, then I doubt he'll stop there. Tamahome needs to be careful. You all do. I've never seen Suboshi like this before. He's...unstable."
Hotohori was frowning slightly. "Unstable or not, he is still -one- boy. How much damage can he do?"
Amiboshi's voice was cool. "Ask Tamahome's family that."
Miaka winced as if she'd been struck, and all present were surprised to find a sheen of tears in her eyes. "This is all my fault," she whimpered, bringing a hand to her face. "I-If I hadn't...if I hadn't been so selfish..."
"Selfish?" Nuriko frowned. "Miaka, you can't possibly blame yourself for this..."
The girl shook her head, rose to her feet and gave a small sob. "You don't understand," she whispered. She ran from the room. A moment later, they heard the thud of her shoes against the stairs, the click of the bathroom door slamming shut.
After a few moments of silence, Hotohori locked gazes with Nuriko, slim eyebrows pressing together on his forehead. "Why would she think this was her fault?" he asked quietly.
Nuriko shook his head, an aching suspicion starting to gnaw at his mind. "I don't know," he said, "but I think...I think it might have something to do with something she said at school. Something about..." He frowned. "About people dying. In a...a book."
"A book?"
He nodded. "Ee, a book." He lifted his hands a bit, watched the light glittering off the metal of his bracelets. "It had something to do with these, and...with an old woman." His voice sank a bit. "She thought people were going to die if she couldn't find her, and...I guess she couldn't."
Hotohori pursed his lips. "Strange," he murmured.
"No," said Amiboshi--his voice sounded odd, strained. "No, not strange." Suddenly, his eyes were wide and blue, boring into Nuriko with eerie intensity. "What did she say about a book?"
Nuriko frowned. "Not much. I think she said something about people dying in a book, but--" The frown deepened. "--people we know."
"Like who?"
"Me, for one. Chiriko--Mitsukake's adopted son, you remember, ne, Hotohori? And..." His eyes shifted to the chestnut-haired eighteen-year-old, and he was suddenly silent. "I don't know what she was talking about," he went on in a soft voice. "But, whatever it was, it really scared her."
"A book. A book." Amiboshi was suddenly on his feet, pacing listlessly from one side of the room to the other. "This is strange. Really strange."
"What is?" Nuriko leaned back in his chair, studied the younger boy as he moved.
Finally, Amiboshi paused, turned back to the two with something like confusion on his face. "It's just that...Ayuru and Chuin were always talking about a book, and, about...well, people we know dying in it. It was weird. Suboshi was always trying to tell me about it, something about constellations and fate and one of us dying if we didn't change things, but...I don't know. It always kind of creeped me out."
Something thudded above them, breaking into their thoughts. "Stay here," Nuriko said, rising a little unsteadily from his chair. "I'll be right back. Tamahome probably rolled out of bed again."
He swept out of the room and made for the stairs, leaving Hotohori and Amiboshi alone in the living room.
---
AN: Sorry to leave off here, but I'm being threatened. -_-;; Thus, I also apologize if there are any typos in this. I'll read over this again in a few hours, once I've finished *sweatdrop* cleaning my room, and the Wrath of Maternal Instinct is no longer hovering above my head, ready to strike. Ah, and look! Almost at a hundred reviews!! Who'll be the one to set me over? Oh, the excitement! *claps hands together*