Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply; neither Kamui nor Fuuma are mine. They aren't yours either. Too bad fantasies can't come true, enh?
Author's Note: Inspired by my friend Kouryuu and all the notes my last fan fiction received expressing the distinct lack of FxK fanfics. This author is a weather vane; shifting to accommodate the strongest breeze. FxK it is.
2nd Author's note: Only my second fanfic; never tried to write an angst before. Don't flame too hard. ^^Read my other story please; reviews are so hard to come by. *sweatdrop*
*****
Warm. You're warm inside. You have a heart still, I can feel it beating against the side of my hand, pulsing at a normal rate. You're still capable of human actions. I thought that you would be cold inside, cold because of the way you act, cold because of what you've done to me. This is still fucking depressing, that my hand is sticking through your fucking back, and you still haven't fucking moved. You just look at me with these big, round eyes that betray no emotion other than amused pity disguised by feigned sympathy.
I can't move, I can't breathe, I can only sit here and cry because Fuuma would never act the way you are and still be human inside. You aren't Fuuma. You are a disfigured semblance, a suicide makeover with Fuuma plastered on the front of you. He doesn't become you, /Kamui/. Why did you have to become him? Why? Doushite.?
And then you pulled my hand out of your chest and broke me, in more ways than one.
That's how I felt that one night, the night when Subaru lost his eye, when I lost the will to fight Fuuma. I sat there, sitting in my room, miserable beyond hope, beyond reach, beyond sympathy, beyond everyone except for Sorata and Subaru.
And you.
Before I'd recovered, before Subaru sought death and found death but lives on as a hollow shell, I went to see you. To see if you were still Fuuma. Oh, yes, I knew that you would do what you did, that you really hadn't changed from that one night on the rooftops. What was I thinking as you broke my body again on the black walls of your thralldom? Shivering in the cold and the pain, it's just another form of pleasure. The only contact I still have with you.
You promised that you would protect me. Why won't you?
Oh no, you would not kill me. Not your little toy, the toy that I am. No, you wanted to have some fucking fun. The double entendre sickens me. You let me go when you killed me the first time, when you killed Kotori, but now you showed no mercy. Even as my blood ran down my body in damp, dark rivulets you would not put me out of my misery, the nightmare that you have created for me. How strange that someone like me should only have pleasure at the hands of Monou Fuuma, who never gave thought to romance when he was Monou Fuuma. Heh. I try to fight back, but it's no use. I know it. You know it. It just gives you that much more pleasure.
You could break my body, but you couldn't break my spirit.
How odd, that. I went there seeking death and I found pain and torture and pleasure but not death. I thought I wished for release from life, but the only release I found was, well, from worldly desires. You couldn't know how I felt as you ran your hands around my body, humiliating me with your endless teasing and pleasuring and torment. Oh, /Kamui/, your wish is my command. My wish you commanded, twisted in a way that I never thought possible. You left me on the steps of the mansion, not bleeding any longer but naked and scarred. Left for Sorata to come running out, hands blazing, but you just walked away. Slowly. How could you leave me like that? Sorata looked down at me, saw the lovebites and the harsh treatment your hands gave me. I didn't know if he was going to laugh or cry, but he did pick me up and I closed my eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.
*****
Subaru was staring at me when I got up. Not staring at me staring through me. He's gone again. Like I was before. He's sitting on a chair, facing the window, not two feet away from me, the emerald eyes the emerald eye, singular, piercing my body. I reach up my arm toward him, test the integrity of the abused flesh, and grip his wrist.
Blink. Blink. He takes a deep breath, and I pull him towards me onto the bed. Subaru. I try to project my thoughts at him, and surprisingly enough, he seems to understand. We're both in pain. We're both suffering from the same affliction. Former idols, former friends, former lovers; new iconoclasts, new enemies, old lovers still. He clutches at my back, whispering some nameless need. Suddenly, the whiff of sakura comes across my nose, and shock must have registered on my face, then Subaru started to cry. Not weep, just cry, the tears clear and clean.
"He's dead. And now I am him."
And now you are him. The tears flow from my eyes as well, not sanguine but cerulean, not of me but of him. I pull Subaru closer, needing him as much as he needs me, and our lips come together in the lightest of kisses, just a touch, a fleeting sensation like the sakura that fell from the sky that night at Rainbow Bridge. Sleep overtakes me, and the power within me flares to life but is stifled. Even as the dreamscape approaches, I know that Subaru has put me into this trance.
For such a deserted, dusty, barren place it is frigid. Peering into the haze, a lone figure kneels on the rocky earth, moistening the fragile surface. "Subaru" I call, not sure why he is choosing to do this here. Understanding has grasped me, and the shock is overpowering. The vista goes black, and a translucent oval appears on the horizon. Subaru points with a bandaged hand, and the Sakuruzakamori and Sumeragi wash into existence.
Subaru is gaping at a rock beside Seishirou, not because the rock is interesting, but because he doesn't want to look into Seishirou's eyes. The barest hint of an emotion touches the Sakaruzakamori's eyes, and then Kamui twitches I twitch? as Subaru fades out of the image and Kamui has his hand in Seishirou. Warm. He's warm inside. He has a heart still, I can feel it beating against the side of my hand. "Subaru" Kamui whispers I whisper? and Seishirou's eyes shade into red as he stands up again. Fuuma stands before me. As he falls forward he whispers something in Kamui's ear, and collapses to the ground.
"Subaru" I whisper, the image fading into nothingness. He looks up at me, the only motion he's made this entire time, and looks down again.
"Now do you understand why I'm doing this?" And then he stands up and leaves, sakura petals falling from the sky.
*****
Yes, I understand now. I understand you, Fuuma, and maybe even Seishirou. It's all about fate, isn't it? It's all about fucking fate. Hokuto died so that Subaru and Seishirou could live. Too bad Seishirou had to die, taking most of the Sumeragi with him. The feelings that Subaru had for Seishirou mirrored those of my own for Fuuma in nature, but not in intent. I had no intention of becoming the Dragon of the Earth, but then, I had no intention of becoming Dragon of the Heaven either. Fate means nothing to me, just another hole that fades into the dreamscape. Subaru thinks that he's fulfilling his wish by becoming the Sakaruzakamori, that maybe somehow Seishirou will care for him if Subaru becomes him. All he's doing is dooming himself into living under the shadow of Seishirou, not realizing that by doing so he's resigning himself to underachievement and misery.
I thought I would be like that. That's why Fuuma became what he did, the Dragon of the Earth. I denied what Hinoto told me because, like they all assumed, I refused to believe.
Totally to the contrary, I believed. I just didn't accept.
And now, I leave every night to see you. I return every morning bloodied, violated, and broken. I hate you.
*****
And now I'm here. With you, Fuuma. Is it love when the object of affection is an image, and nothing more; when the one my heart flutters for, when all I know of him is what he would show the world, and therefore everything he was. When I wash my hands in blood to keep that image clean and untainted — allow you to do this to me -- when it is all I see behind closed eyes. When I memorize every expression within his empty apathetic repertoire; when it is all I exist to behold; is it really, truly, love?
You, Fuuma, have caused me grief beyond this world, beyond this fate. Maybe that's the real reason why I broke the seal to the Shinken. To just end it. And now I'm here. With you. There is no hesitation this time in your stance, you're going to kill me. Not even going to ask me for my wish. I bet you don't even care. So this is what it was like to be Subaru. To look at you in the eye, to see my love for you mirrored from an empty bowl, black water without ripples or reaction. And then surrender to my final fate.
The sword is cold. The sword is lifeless; I can feel my heart destroying itself on the blade. What would Tokiko think to know that the sword she conceived would be the death of the wielder? What would Saya think if she knew that her sword would never be used?
Warm. You're warm inside. You have a heart still, I can feel it beating against my chest, pulsing at a normal rate. You're still capable of human actions. I thought that you would be cold inside, cold because of the way you act, cold because of what you've done to me. Your tears are warm too, I didn't know that you could still cry. I didn't know that you could still love.
Well. This is fate for you. You didn't kill me. So I killed me for you.
Don't cry, Fuuma. I love you.