"I'm alright.
Go away."
- H. G. Wells (1866-1946)
, Last words
"Goodbye. I am leaving because I am bored." Karen smiled as she passed the wasabi.
"Mmm... George Saunders?" Aoki Seiichirou took the wasabi and raised her some miso. She accepted graciously.
"Correct." She smiled. He smiled. All was right with the world.
The two sat on one of the horizontal i-beams holding the curves of Tokyo Tower together. It was evening, sun setting, and what with the quarantine and all, it was highly unlikely that anybody would see them. Just in case, they both wore black; but black was a large portion of both their wardrobes - suits for him, lingerie for her - and thus, was no hardship. To boot, they'd brought their lunch; now transformed magically into dinner by the mere passing of time, it was shared between them with much aplomb and harmless flirting - which behavior guaranteed that none of the food had really been tasted, but that was all right.
"That was too easy. Try another one?" Aoki said, dabbing at his mouth and then dusting his jacket with his napkin.
"All right. Let's try..." Karen thought for a moment, curled prettily on the i-beam as though sitting 900 feet above the ground while sipping tea was a normal activity for her. Well, salvation of the world ranked third in her to-do list; perhaps it was. "Draw the curtain, the farce is over."
"Mmm... that's a hard one." Aoki considered, wrapping the food that remained and putting it neatly back into the basket. She watched his long fingers as he worked. "Wasn't it... someone Greek?"
Karen chuckled daintily, the slight, throaty quality to her voice making Aoki shiver. "The Greek philosopher Demonax, to be exact."
Aoki glanced at her over his wire-rimmed glasses, disapproving. "That's just a little obscure, don't you think?"
"True enough," she agreed easily, turning her gaze from his hands to his eyes. "You do the next one."
"All right," he said, and thought. "Friends applaud, the comedy is finished."
Karen smiled. "Ludwig van Beethoven. Although - wasn't he referring to the activities of the bedside priest, and not his own life?" she asked, one eyebrow up. She fingered the gold cross hanging over her bosom.
Aoki made a sound that resembled a hiccup. "Oh - ah - Karen, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean anything - "
"I know," she soothed, doing more with her eyes than her voice, and he glanced down with a blush and was silent. "My turn," she said, brushing imaginary crumbs from her lap; she stretched, uncurling her legs. "I should never have switched from Scotch to Martinis."
Aoki blinked. "That's the quote?"
She chuckled at him, leaning forward slightly to watch his face. "That's the quote."
"Well - Karen, I have no idea."
She smiled. "Humphrey Bogart."
"Who?" The look of puzzlement on his face was well worth the entire evening in her opinion - if she'd been in need for a good reason, which she had not.
"He was an American actor," she informed him, smiling like a cat. "I used to love trivia like that when I was young; I had ideas about becoming one myself. An actress, that is."
"You? Well - you... you're certainly beautiful enough." He glanced down, blushing and smiling at his brown shoes.
Brown shoes with a black suit; it was absurd, and adorable. Karen smiled and did not mention it. "Tomorrow, then?" she said, arching her back to stretch.
Aoki looked back up and smiled. "Tomorrow."
She nodded once, and waited for him to leave. He adjusted his glasses and smiled at her.
"Karen - you know I won't go until I've seen you off," he said, carrying the basket under one arm.
Karen nodded. "Take care, Aoki. Say hello to your wife tonight, if you can " And she left - leaping down in a swirl of graceful motion, as light on her feet as if she were simply hopping off a wall.
Aoki stood still until she was out of sight, smiling at the very mention of his wife. Karen always remembered to say that; it made him feel better, as if he were close to his spouse instead of geographically farther away than he'd ever been in his life. It was just a wonderful little gift Karen gave.
It was a bizarre and delightful love; he and Karen did not and never would sleep together - but between the two of them was a wonderful thing, too flirtatious to be sibling and too safe to be sexual. Aoki felt no guilt regarding his wife, and neither did Karen; they were simply there for one another in their times of need.
After one last check to make sure they'd left nothing behind, Aoki leapt down as well, following the path Karen had taken.
The streets were deserted; it seemed the curfew was effective. Nothing but the shushing of wind in the naked trees and Aoki's own footsteps sounded in the air. Perhaps he would call her tonight; or at least in the morning. He needed to tell her he loved her.
"Seiichirou-san."
The voice came out of nowhere, to use the hackneyed phrase; and although it was familiar, it was so unexpected and it had been so long since he'd heard it that Aoki took a moment to place its owner. He stopped.
"Seiichirou-san."
Aoki turned, and stared.
"....Subaru?"
Subaru walked toward him, somehow both frailer and more threatening than when Aoki had seen him last. His voice, soft, carried with it more fullness than Aoki remembered it having. "So the heart be right, it is no matter which way the head lieth. Sir Walter Raleigh, beheaded in 1618."
Aoki stared. "I... didn't know you... Subaru!" And he embraced him, tightly, quickly. Subaru did not respond.
Aoki looked into his eyes, concerned. "Where have you been? Everyone has been concerned - Subaru... Kamui has...."
Subaru closed his eyes during this stilted speech, interrupting the moment Kamui's name was mentioned. "He's coming for you tonight. For your people. And you'll have to choose."
Silence hung like a death shroud. "What?"
Subaru opened his eyes. Aoki had been given to understand that once they'd been green, a brilliant emerald color that made him stand out among native Japanese. When Aoki had first met him, they had been more grey than green, almost as if they'd faded; but now, in the light of the street lamps, they seemed utterly devoid of anything but grey. Aoki could see every thin, dark line radiating from his pupil through his soft grey irises; something about Subaru's eyes seemed so devoid of joy that the words could no longer even hope to describe them, and he knew he'd see those eyes again in any dreams that involved an unhappy ending.
"He's coming. Dark Kamui. And he's going to make you choose."
Aoki's heart was beginning to pound hard enough for him to hear. "Subaru - Subaru, I don't understand - "
"He's given me permission to warn you - each of you - only once."
Aoki fell silent. Subaru's voice reflected the look that sat so emptily in his eyes.
"...Subaru...."
"I've got to go." Subaru turned, his black coat catching lightly for a moment and revealing the black, black material covering his legs, and walked down the street.
"Subaru - wait! Subaru!" Subaru kept going, and Aoki ran after him. "Subaru!"
"No. Leave me alone!" Subaru abruptly shouted, his voice strained and slightly cracking, and suddenly he leapt up toward the roof of a neighboring building. He was gone in a moment; his panic spiced the air, stunning Aoki enough that he did not follow right away, and by the time he came to his senses, it was too late. A few seconds and Subaru was gone.
He could feel his own growing terror like bitter wine on his tongue. "....coming... for them... oh, gods." Turning on his heel, Aoki ran for the nearest payphone, praying to anyone who would listen that Fuuma's coming would wait for another few minutes.