The Last Wish - 18
~*~
He was about halfway up the stairs when he realized that something was wrong.
The door to Tamahome's room--which he'd left wide open in case Tamahome called for anything--had been closed. And, if the slight, fist-shaped bulge in the wood was any indication, it hadn't been closed gently. Eyes going wide, Nuriko sprinted up the last few steps, thudded onto the carpet of the upstairs hall. As he charged towards the door, he could hear the sounds of grunts and thuds and violent rustling, now all too clearly-audible from behind the polished wood. He skidded to a halt before the door, spent a long moment trying to decide what to do. The breath seemed caught in his lungs, and his pulse was racing, sending the adrenaline pumping through his veins until he began to shake. It was more than a little difficult to grab onto the doorknob with the trembles rippling through his fingers, but he managed anyway. He latched onto the cool brass and twisted, hard.
It was locked.
"Damn," he hissed. "Damn, damn, damn. TAMAHOME!" He raised a fist, brought it down hard on the wood. "TAMAH--"
He broke off, startled, as the wood of the door splintered beneath the impact of his fist. Wood chips sputtered out beneath his hand, granted him a brief glimpse of a bloodied Tamahome leaping by... And, then, all of a sudden, everything seemed to be happening at once. From down the hall, the bathroom door swung open, making way for a worried-looking Miaka, while the thuds and cries of Hotohori and Amiboshi running towards the stairs echoed from far below. And, then, there were the crashes and groans coming from inside Tamahome's room, growing louder and more alarming as the seconds went by.
Nuriko didn't hesitate. He stepped back, lifted his foot, and slammed it into the door. The hinges broke off cleanly, and as he watched, the heavy wood fell to the floor with a crash, sent a fine cloud of dust fluttering into the air. Despite the theatrics, though, Tamahome didn't even glance up, and Nuriko felt a chill of fear go through him.
Tamahome looked like a man possessed. His eyes were wide and wild, glinting with dark flame, and he was moving with the kind of sureness and dexterity Nuriko'd only ever seen in those damned ninja movies Rokou liked so much. The seventeen-year-old's fists flew with what looked like practice precision, his boots lashing out in sharp, well-timed kicks, and if it hadn't been for the thin line of blood seeping down his nose, Nuriko would've been inclined to believe Tamahome was some untouchable figure of myth, godly and invulnerable.
Suboshi, meanwhile, wasn't looking well at all. His blond-brown hair was matted and rusty, his nose--which had already been broken, Nuriko remembered--trickled with blood, and there were numerous scrapes and bruises covering his arms and legs. He moved with a wavering kind of determination, lashing out however he could--but, always, inevitably, Tamahome dodged the blows, and sent a few of his own slamming into the boy's body.
"Damn you!" Suboshi shrieked, lashing out again, and--as Tamahome sunk into a low crouch--missing again. "Damn you, I'll kill you! I'll fucking KILL YOU!"
For a long moment, Nuriko could only stand there, mesmerized, and watch those graceful limbs lance out at Suboshi. It was like some kind of morbid dance, elegant and beautiful...but, deadly.
A cry from behind him jolted him out of his reverie, made him turn. Miaka had come up behind him, was now standing with hands pressed over her mouth, eyes wide and riveted to the fight.
"T-Tamahome!" she managed.
Nuriko nodded slightly as if to himself, then stepped over the fallen door and picked his way to where the two combatants battled. They'd trashed the room, he noticed as he moved--the porcelain figurines lay shattered and broken on the floor, shards of glass and flower petals blanketed the bureau, and a great pool of water was gathering in the corner, where a pitcher had been knocked over. The chair was on its side, also, and it was this that he stepped over, finally, to reach Tamahome and Suboshi. They must've known he and Miaka were there, but for some reason, neither glanced up, both lashing out at each other with surprising violence and ardor.
"TAMAHOME!" Nuriko bellowed, ducking just in time to avoid one of Suboshi's failed punches. "TAMAHOME, STOP!"
Tamahome didn't even glance at him--instead, he raised a fist, shouted something incomprehensible, and slammed it at Suboshi's chest. The younger boy, who'd been swinging back for his own punch, was caught completely off-guard, and went flying backwards towards the wall. Nuriko saw the open window and the inevitable conclusion only a moment before Tamahome himself did.
He didn't give himself time to think. Nuriko dashed forward, yelping in pain as one of Tamahome's flying fists slammed into his shoulder, and launched himself toward the window. Meanwhile, just ahead of him, Suboshi was skidding backwards, unaware of the danger, and, then--
Suboshi slammed into the window sill, tripped backwards, and began to fall through the frame, out the window--Nuriko leaped forward, reaching wildly for that twitching hand as Suboshi screamed and scrambled to save himself, blue eyes going wide with fear and horror--
"DAMN YOU, DON'T SAVE HIM!" Tamahome shrieked.
Nuriko almost paused at the words, struck dumb by the malice, the anger, the dark and fiery hatred--it didn't even sound like Tamahome, and yet, he KNEW it was Tamahome speaking, Tamahome screaming... He didn't pause, though, didn't give himself more than an instant to think. Instead, he dove forward just as Suboshi began to plummet. Pain surged through him as his chest slammed onto the window sill, but he ignored it, eyes locked on Suboshi's wrist, just beginning to drop from view--
Suboshi screamed as Nuriko's slim fingers wrapped around his wrist, twisting it painfully...but, Nuriko paid no attention. Now, with Suboshi's weight added to his own, the sill was cutting into his chest with alarming force, making it difficult to breathe, but, he ignored this pain, ignored Tamahome's angry shouts, ignored Miaka's shrill screams, ignored even the anguished cries of the boy beneath him. Instead, he closed his eyes, closed his eyes and stopped the breath in his lungs and focused on the thudding of his heartbeat, the rippling of the blood through his veins. There was throbbing pain, piercing agony--he was sure he'd cracked a rib, was probably cracking more as they spoke--but, he cleared this from his mind, too. And as he hung there, bent over the sill with a human life dangling from his fingers, suddenly, everything seemed to slow, to fade into something whispery and cloudlike.
The backs of his eyelids were dark and cool, and on his mind was a touch like water, trickling over his heated muscles, giving him strength. Life paused for a moment, and he found himself in a dark pool, swirling gently against the tide of his own thoughts.
why do i care if he dies it's not like he's someone i love he's someone who killed someone i love and killed the family of someone i love and it's hurting me to be here it's painful and it hurts so much and what if i fall too and die and it's because of him and yet still i need to save him i have to save him there's something that makes me need to save him but i don't know what it is or why but i know that i need to save him have to save him have to save him and i don't know why but i have to i have to i have to
//I have to. I have to...\\
Something exploded inside of him.
Nuriko eyes flared open, and time seemed to surge back into motion again, to draw him up out of the darkness and send him plunging back into reality again. Suboshi was dangling from his fingers, terrified and screaming, and Tamahome was bellowing angrily behind him, Miaka's screeches inaudible beneath his rage. Things were just as they'd been a moment ago, just as dire and frightening...and, yet, something was different. For a moment, long only within his own mind, he couldn't figure out just what it was that had changed, or why he was suddenly so accutely aware of it.
And, then, abruptly, he knew.
//It's me. No. It's...it's IN me.\\
A fiery strength now surged throug his veins, banishing the pain from his chest, his wrist, making it almost easy to bear Suboshi's weight--and, not just to bear it, but to lift it. Slowly, marveling at this new burst of power even as the rest of his mind focused on the action itself, Nuriko planted his feet firmly on the ground, slid backwards, and lifted Suboshi up from where he hung. His arm obeyed his command, not even shaking beneath the weight, and a moment later, he'd tugged the boy easily up through the window, let him dangle for a short moment before dropping him to the floor.
It was only then that he noticed the bracelets--or, rather, the lack of the bracelets. Somehow, his forearms were now sheathed in cool, glistening metal, glowing crimson in the fading light, and he knew instantly that the power had come from here, from this fiery glow...and, also, from inside. From so deep within that he'd never noticed the strength before, but now, inevitably, had found it.
And, then, the pain and exhaustion caught up with him, and he crumpled to the floor and was still.
---
~*~
He was about halfway up the stairs when he realized that something was wrong.
The door to Tamahome's room--which he'd left wide open in case Tamahome called for anything--had been closed. And, if the slight, fist-shaped bulge in the wood was any indication, it hadn't been closed gently. Eyes going wide, Nuriko sprinted up the last few steps, thudded onto the carpet of the upstairs hall. As he charged towards the door, he could hear the sounds of grunts and thuds and violent rustling, now all too clearly-audible from behind the polished wood. He skidded to a halt before the door, spent a long moment trying to decide what to do. The breath seemed caught in his lungs, and his pulse was racing, sending the adrenaline pumping through his veins until he began to shake. It was more than a little difficult to grab onto the doorknob with the trembles rippling through his fingers, but he managed anyway. He latched onto the cool brass and twisted, hard.
It was locked.
"Damn," he hissed. "Damn, damn, damn. TAMAHOME!" He raised a fist, brought it down hard on the wood. "TAMAH--"
He broke off, startled, as the wood of the door splintered beneath the impact of his fist. Wood chips sputtered out beneath his hand, granted him a brief glimpse of a bloodied Tamahome leaping by... And, then, all of a sudden, everything seemed to be happening at once. From down the hall, the bathroom door swung open, making way for a worried-looking Miaka, while the thuds and cries of Hotohori and Amiboshi running towards the stairs echoed from far below. And, then, there were the crashes and groans coming from inside Tamahome's room, growing louder and more alarming as the seconds went by.
Nuriko didn't hesitate. He stepped back, lifted his foot, and slammed it into the door. The hinges broke off cleanly, and as he watched, the heavy wood fell to the floor with a crash, sent a fine cloud of dust fluttering into the air. Despite the theatrics, though, Tamahome didn't even glance up, and Nuriko felt a chill of fear go through him.
Tamahome looked like a man possessed. His eyes were wide and wild, glinting with dark flame, and he was moving with the kind of sureness and dexterity Nuriko'd only ever seen in those damned ninja movies Rokou liked so much. The seventeen-year-old's fists flew with what looked like practice precision, his boots lashing out in sharp, well-timed kicks, and if it hadn't been for the thin line of blood seeping down his nose, Nuriko would've been inclined to believe Tamahome was some untouchable figure of myth, godly and invulnerable.
Suboshi, meanwhile, wasn't looking well at all. His blond-brown hair was matted and rusty, his nose--which had already been broken, Nuriko remembered--trickled with blood, and there were numerous scrapes and bruises covering his arms and legs. He moved with a wavering kind of determination, lashing out however he could--but, always, inevitably, Tamahome dodged the blows, and sent a few of his own slamming into the boy's body.
"Damn you!" Suboshi shrieked, lashing out again, and--as Tamahome sunk into a low crouch--missing again. "Damn you, I'll kill you! I'll fucking KILL YOU!"
For a long moment, Nuriko could only stand there, mesmerized, and watch those graceful limbs lance out at Suboshi. It was like some kind of morbid dance, elegant and beautiful...but, deadly.
A cry from behind him jolted him out of his reverie, made him turn. Miaka had come up behind him, was now standing with hands pressed over her mouth, eyes wide and riveted to the fight.
"T-Tamahome!" she managed.
Nuriko nodded slightly as if to himself, then stepped over the fallen door and picked his way to where the two combatants battled. They'd trashed the room, he noticed as he moved--the porcelain figurines lay shattered and broken on the floor, shards of glass and flower petals blanketed the bureau, and a great pool of water was gathering in the corner, where a pitcher had been knocked over. The chair was on its side, also, and it was this that he stepped over, finally, to reach Tamahome and Suboshi. They must've known he and Miaka were there, but for some reason, neither glanced up, both lashing out at each other with surprising violence and ardor.
"TAMAHOME!" Nuriko bellowed, ducking just in time to avoid one of Suboshi's failed punches. "TAMAHOME, STOP!"
Tamahome didn't even glance at him--instead, he raised a fist, shouted something incomprehensible, and slammed it at Suboshi's chest. The younger boy, who'd been swinging back for his own punch, was caught completely off-guard, and went flying backwards towards the wall. Nuriko saw the open window and the inevitable conclusion only a moment before Tamahome himself did.
He didn't give himself time to think. Nuriko dashed forward, yelping in pain as one of Tamahome's flying fists slammed into his shoulder, and launched himself toward the window. Meanwhile, just ahead of him, Suboshi was skidding backwards, unaware of the danger, and, then--
Suboshi slammed into the window sill, tripped backwards, and began to fall through the frame, out the window--Nuriko leaped forward, reaching wildly for that twitching hand as Suboshi screamed and scrambled to save himself, blue eyes going wide with fear and horror--
"DAMN YOU, DON'T SAVE HIM!" Tamahome shrieked.
Nuriko almost paused at the words, struck dumb by the malice, the anger, the dark and fiery hatred--it didn't even sound like Tamahome, and yet, he KNEW it was Tamahome speaking, Tamahome screaming... He didn't pause, though, didn't give himself more than an instant to think. Instead, he dove forward just as Suboshi began to plummet. Pain surged through him as his chest slammed onto the window sill, but he ignored it, eyes locked on Suboshi's wrist, just beginning to drop from view--
Suboshi screamed as Nuriko's slim fingers wrapped around his wrist, twisting it painfully...but, Nuriko paid no attention. Now, with Suboshi's weight added to his own, the sill was cutting into his chest with alarming force, making it difficult to breathe, but, he ignored this pain, ignored Tamahome's angry shouts, ignored Miaka's shrill screams, ignored even the anguished cries of the boy beneath him. Instead, he closed his eyes, closed his eyes and stopped the breath in his lungs and focused on the thudding of his heartbeat, the rippling of the blood through his veins. There was throbbing pain, piercing agony--he was sure he'd cracked a rib, was probably cracking more as they spoke--but, he cleared this from his mind, too. And as he hung there, bent over the sill with a human life dangling from his fingers, suddenly, everything seemed to slow, to fade into something whispery and cloudlike.
The backs of his eyelids were dark and cool, and on his mind was a touch like water, trickling over his heated muscles, giving him strength. Life paused for a moment, and he found himself in a dark pool, swirling gently against the tide of his own thoughts.
why do i care if he dies it's not like he's someone i love he's someone who killed someone i love and killed the family of someone i love and it's hurting me to be here it's painful and it hurts so much and what if i fall too and die and it's because of him and yet still i need to save him i have to save him there's something that makes me need to save him but i don't know what it is or why but i know that i need to save him have to save him have to save him and i don't know why but i have to i have to i have to
//I have to. I have to...\\
Something exploded inside of him.
Nuriko eyes flared open, and time seemed to surge back into motion again, to draw him up out of the darkness and send him plunging back into reality again. Suboshi was dangling from his fingers, terrified and screaming, and Tamahome was bellowing angrily behind him, Miaka's screeches inaudible beneath his rage. Things were just as they'd been a moment ago, just as dire and frightening...and, yet, something was different. For a moment, long only within his own mind, he couldn't figure out just what it was that had changed, or why he was suddenly so accutely aware of it.
And, then, abruptly, he knew.
//It's me. No. It's...it's IN me.\\
A fiery strength now surged throug his veins, banishing the pain from his chest, his wrist, making it almost easy to bear Suboshi's weight--and, not just to bear it, but to lift it. Slowly, marveling at this new burst of power even as the rest of his mind focused on the action itself, Nuriko planted his feet firmly on the ground, slid backwards, and lifted Suboshi up from where he hung. His arm obeyed his command, not even shaking beneath the weight, and a moment later, he'd tugged the boy easily up through the window, let him dangle for a short moment before dropping him to the floor.
It was only then that he noticed the bracelets--or, rather, the lack of the bracelets. Somehow, his forearms were now sheathed in cool, glistening metal, glowing crimson in the fading light, and he knew instantly that the power had come from here, from this fiery glow...and, also, from inside. From so deep within that he'd never noticed the strength before, but now, inevitably, had found it.
And, then, the pain and exhaustion caught up with him, and he crumpled to the floor and was still.
---