Inami: *SWEATDROP* . . . .er, no, I wasn't aware that there was a CLAMP character called Ayame. I just randomly picked the name from a list. . .I'm not that lucky enough to have read/watched all of the great CLAMP's works. . sniff. . .and the other parts of your review. . .*SWEATDROP*. . .hey, don't worry about the yaoi thing! Not everyone can take it! ^__^
Shaynie: I'm currently wracking my brain trying to work in the other characters' angst! I see the possibility of a Tari-Angst. . .Hisoka. . .hmm. . .I think this chapter can help set the way in the next chapter or two for bon. Let's cross our fingers! ^^ PS; I liked the way I did Enma myself too. . .XD
Literary Eagle: Thank you! ^__^
Bloody Valentine: It's amazing the number of people who wishes to kill Ayame. Not a bad reception for an original villainess eh? *grins* Here ya go; update.
Sakusha-san: Wah! We're in the same boat! My sms credit is sooo low! And no, you can't have a Kyo-Flavoured Milkshake. You can kill Ayame though, I don't mind *smiles innocently* Oh yeah, just to let you know, I'm already starting on the initial work for the sketches of Kyo and Taka. Remember; I'm a great copier, not a great illustrator. So that means I'll be mixing around faces and styles and such to get my internal picture of the two of them. So don't get your hopes up too high! But I will do my best!
Twylise: Thank you also. The idea for the letters from Enma just popped in my head and I thought it was too good an idea to pass up. It was an interesting change from trying to paint out every little detail of what they went through. And the whole soul thing? I was reading Terry Pratchett before, because of the whole No Inspiration thing and I ended up with that chapter. . .go figure. Oh yeah, I've emailed you already. Hope I got the right address. If I didn't, leave me a line in the next review and I'll try again!
Warning: Long chapter to follow. No inspiration problems here. . .no lemons either. XD Oh, but I tortured Taka again. . . .erm. . .sorry?
Disclaimer: not mine, never mine. Except for my OCs, natch.
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
Chapter 16
Parallel
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
Takashi pottered around the kitchen of their apartment, banging pots and pans and generally making enough ruckus to indicate that yes, he was starting dinner. It was quite fun actually, opening and slamming shut cabinet doors, beating the eggs in a metal bow with a whisk that was handled with as much enthusiasm as a tornado and chopping the vegetables on the board with enough vengeance to provide a flamenco beat.
"Do you really need to make that much noise just to make dinner?"
"Of course I do," Takashi said automatically. "Making dinner by myself is a lonely affair so I need to liven up the atmosphere a bit."
"You're just being a baby because I refused to help you out," came the rather dry reply.
Takashi pouted and for extra measure, clanged a skillet against a copper pot. "I got the right, Kyo-chan. I'm sulking."
"Whatever."
He mumbled something under his breath that wasn't really complimentary concerning male partners in a relationship such as theirs and Kyo gave a wry chuckle.
"That's not anatomically possible you know."
"I'm a doctor."
"Right."
Dinner was the two of them as usual. It wasn't one of their nights for a double date with Hisoka and Tsuzuki anyway. Afterwards, Takashi debated with Kyo the finer points of watching either "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" or "Gohatto."
"Why do we have to watch Harry Potter again?" Takashi whined. "We've watched it five times already."
"Because I like it and you love me. So naturally, you have to indulge me."
"But you love me too," Takashi pointed out. "So why can't we watch 'Gohatto'?"
"It's your fault in the first place."
"How is it my fault?"
"'Coz I'm the soft, sweet little uke in this relationship and you're the big bad seme. Ukes like to watch soft sweet movies filled with fluff and sap so the big bad semes have to indulge their ukes."
"But 'Gohatto' is good!"
A pause, then. "Taka, the movie is about a gay samurai lord who falls in lust with a new recruit. What are you trying to say here?"
Takashi blinked and smiled sweetly. "That I'm very liberal in my taste of movies?"
". . . . . . . ."
"Okay, okay we'll watch Harry Potter."
After the movie, Takashi decided that it was time to go to bed. Work had been quite tiring today, what with filing up three cases in a row. Though Kyoto was usually a quiet district, it tended to have its fair share of sudden flares in unexplained deaths. It was all those wannabe sorcerers, thinking that if they had enough sacrifices, they can control the world.
It usually ended up with them being some demon's dinner.
Changing into a pair of flannel pants, Takashi crawled underneath the covers and yawned hugely.
"Aren't you going to sleep Kyo?" he asked sleepily.
No answer. Takashi sighed and snuggled deeper into the blankets. Silence returned again to the apartment. Silence broken only by a hushed question asked and no reply given.
But that wasn't really unexpected. After all, who would answer you when you were all alone in the first place?
Takashi closed his eyes, letting the tears come as always. They fell softly, unheeded and unchecked, splashing on to the cotton covers of the pillow that if he hugged tight enough and long enough, he could almost imagine that it was Kyo.
That he wasn't really all alone and had been so for a long time now.
That one morning he would wake up and see a pair of laughing blue eyes staring cheekily at him.
That one day, when he had those conversations with Kyo, Kyo would actually reply back.
"Kyo," he moaned softly, hugging the pillow tighter and curling up into a little ball. "Please come back. Please? I miss you."
Try as he might, tonight, the pillow was just a pillow.
"I miss you so much Kyo. You know I can't sleep without you. Please?"
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
He never did like going to hospitals.
Maybe it was the smell that always got to him. The stark ammonia scent of disinfectants mixed sharply with the lemony sharp scent of the air freshener they tried to hide it with. But underneath the chemically induced smells was one more disturbing to him than any other; the sickly sweet smell of death.
He knew it was rather weird for him to think so. For many people, the hospital is a place of hope. It was the light at the end of the tunnel. A gleaming, white-mortared building equipped with the latest technology medicine and science could dream of, it is a place one goes to for that last straw of chance to save a loved one.
Many people see the doctors and nurses as some sort of saviours. The white lab coat and stark uniform represented knowledge beyond that of the layman. Knowledge that could ultimately give comfort or even mercy. The quiet voices, the practiced smile, the hush tapping of footsteps down a spotlessly clean hallway, the whirring of machines that acted as an artificial soul; everything and every action was designed to reassure, to help, to provide.
What he sees and smell is death.
Tch, that's not the kind of thoughts to be entertained right now, he chided himself gently. This was a special day after all. Instead of death. Life would be served today. He, at the tender age of 22, is going to be a father.
It's a proud moment for him. Proud and extremely nerve-wracking. His wife had been in the delivery room for over five hours and he wondered how long more he could stand the pressure.
Baka, he sighed. You're wife is in there, battling for her life to give birth to your child and you feel you're nervous?
He thought back to when he was still by his wife's side as she laboured, her breaths coming in short, painful bursts and her slim fingers gripping his hand so tight, he was amazed she didn't hurt herself. He had brushed back damp hair, sticky with sweat and kissed her brow tenderly. We'll get through this, he had whispered gently. You're going to come out of this fighting with a smile on your face and a beautiful baby in your arms.
She had laughed then, a gasping one, and asked him how he could be so sure. Well, he answered back teasingly, it better be that way otherwise God would have some heavy-duty explaining to do. The nurses had ushered him out then. A birthing room, one nurse announced, is no place for a nervous husband. He gave a last, loving look into ash-light eyes and mouthed the word 'aishiteru' before he let the insistent nurses propel him out.
He looked down to his lap and smiled ruefully. That old nurse had seen right through him. He was nervous. The little bits of twisted and crumpled tissue bits scattered all over his lap was testament to that. If only his students could see him now! Their level-headed, always calm, always cool sensei falling to pieces!
He quickly scooped up the incriminating evidence and dumped them in a convenient trash bin. Looking distractedly around the waiting room, he wondered if he should get another cup of coffee, but he couldn't bear the thought of being too far away from his wife. What if something happened while he was doing something as inane as getting coffee?
A bit lost, he stood there uncertainly, brushing back soft black bangs out of his eyes impatiently. He had been meaning to get a haircut but something always came up. Maybe there was a magazine he hadn't flipped through in the last five hours. . . .
"Tanaka-san!"
He turned around quickly. It was Katsubara sensei, his wife's attending doctor and all thoughts of coffees, magazines and haircuts flew out of his mind.
"Sensei! How's my wife? Is she alright?" he asked anxiously.
"She's fine," Katsubara sensei assured him with a brilliant smile. "More than fine. She's already asking for you."
"And the baby?"
"Congratulations, Tanaka-san! You've got yourself a healthy baby girl."
"Thank god!" he let out a sigh of relief and sagged gratefully against a wall. "I was going crazy with wor—"
As always, the pain struck without warning. The world turned alarmingly black as something hot and painful burst into life in his chest, constricting his heart and sending waves of red-hot pain radiating outwards. He clutched futilely at his chest as he sank down onto the cold linoleum floor, his eyes rolling.
"Tanaka-san?! What's wrong?"
Before she could alert any of the medical staff though, a hand shot out to grasp her wrist firmly. Startled, Katsubara turned to find Tanaka looking at her quite calmly despite the fact that he was as pale as a sheet and his skin clammy with sweat.
"It's okay," he said softly, before releasing the doctor's wrist. He pushed down on the too-cold floor, trying to get up and she quickly helped him, shouldering a bit of his weight.
"What do you mean, it's okay?" she asked sharply as she lowered him onto one of the hard plastic chairs that littered the waiting room. "You could have been having a heart attack! If we don't get it checked out, who knows what might happen! And you're a new father on top of that!"
He waved aside her concern, smiling gently. "It's a heart condition I've had since I was small. The doctors don't really know what it is but I've got medication to control it," he assured her. He got up then, stumbled a little as the room spun but a moment later, his vision cleared and he smiled again.
"See? Good as new. I think it was the excitement that triggered it."
"Well. . . .if you're sure. . ."
"I am," he said firmly. "Now sensei, as you've said, I've a wife to kiss and a daughter to cuddle. Let's not keep them waiting, ne?"
"I didn't say you could kiss your wife yet," she replied, rolling her eyes as Tanaka gave her a jaunty bow and with a florid wave, invited her to lead him.
"Ah, sensei! A husband can only get by for so long without a tender touch from a loving wife!"
His impudent grin was rewarded with a light smack on his shoulder.
"I can tell you'll be a great influence on your kid, Tanaka-san," she said wryly.
"Ne, sensei," he answered her patiently. "You just helped my wife give birth and you still insist on calling me 'Tanaka-san'? I thought I told you to stop that."
She raised an eyebrow in teasing enquiry. The man was irrepressible. It did not help that he was a kind, caring, gentle husband and damn good looking. She had heard the fourth floor nurses wondering whether he was looking for an affair. Knowing Tanaka as she did, she knew it was hopeless to think so. The man was totally devoted to his wife.
"So what should I call you then, if not Tanaka-san?"
He stopped before the door to the room they had placed his wife in and turned to her with a grin.
"Like I said before, call me Kyo."
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
Watari pushed the glass fronted doors open, producing a tinkle of bells from up above and stepped inside the warm pub with a grateful sigh. Conscientiously, he took the time to wipe his shoes carefully on the welcome mat, depositing a layer of slush and grime. The bartender gave him a small smile of gratitude for that.
Smiling back, Watari took off his glasses and gave them a hurried rub on his scarf. Putting them back on, he took a quick look around the small pub. It was one of those pubs that tried to pass itself of as a genuine English country spot for the poor gaijin who was homesick. Hardwood floors, brass lighting spilling golden light from the walls, heavy wooden furniture and memorabilia of an age that had long passed by were scattered in tasteful clutter all around.
He didn't have to search hard. His quarry sat at the farther end of the counter that ran the length of the room. The 'antique' lantern that hung above was broken, leaving that spot in a pool of shadows.
Watari squared his shoulders, physically and metaphorically, and tried to look as though everything was okay with the world as he sat down on a bar stool next to the man.
"Fancy meeting you here, Takashi," he said cheerfully.
"Of course," the former doctor replied wryly.
Seeing no future possibilities of getting thrown out, Watari took of his coat and scarf, laying them down on the empty stool next to him.
"So what are you having?" he asked as brightly as possible.
Takashi spared him a sideways glance that spoke volumes about what he truly thought about that statement but nevertheless, answered anyway. Watari, after all, was a friend.
"Tequila shot," he said briefly.
Watari himself spared a glance, at the countertop directly in front of Takashi. It was liberally littered with at least a dozen shot glasses. All empty.
"Drinking much?" he quipped.
Takashi didn't bother dignifying that with a reply.
"Excuse me," he signaled the bartender. "A Coke and rum?"
The bartender nodded and handed him his drink after taking care of Takashi's spent glasses. Takashi snagged the man's sleeves and ordered another round.
Watari fiddled nervously with his glass, the ice clinking gently.
"Takashi. . ." he started. And stopped. He didn't know how to go on. For once, he was lost for words. There were no meaningful sentences to be said. Words that would somehow, in his own oblique and genki way, help a friend achieve peace of mind would not spring to mind.
"Did Tatsumi sent you here?" Takashi helped him out.
Watari shook his head, blond locks flying this way and that vigorously. "No! I came here on my own. But Tatsumi is worried about you. So is everyone else," he added softly.
Takashi gave a bare shrug. "What's there to be worried about? I go to work, I do my job, I file my reports. Does Kacho have any complaints about my work?"
Watari rolled his eyes at that. "Since you're my partner, I can say with exact certainty that your work is fine. Better than fine. Tatsumi said they had better start a Hall of Fame for work done in record time with the speed you're going."
"So what's the trouble then? Is not like I'm causing any for anyone."
Watari paused, watching intently as Takashi took a shot, swigging it down and barely grimacing at the pull of the alcohol.
"You didn't use to be a drinker, Takashi," he pointed out gently.
"Times change."
"You didn't use to smoke either."
True enough, a pack of Dunhill's were peeking out of his coat pocket. A box of twenties that looked alarmingly flat.
"I didn't use to do a lot of things, Watari," Takashi said impatiently, gesturing the bartender to hurry up with the pour. "As long as it's not affecting my job, I don't see the harm in it. And don't give me any of that health crap. That doesn't work with us, as you very well know."
Watari sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in mute frustration, not realizing that he really looked like Tatsumi at that moment. Takashi did though and quickly took another shot. He should have known that Takashi wasn't going to make it easy for him. For all his gentle doctor manners and easygoing personality, he could be amazingly bullheaded when it came to personal problems.
Like Kyo was-is, Watari thought sadly to himself.
"You're hurting." Watari had given up on tact. "I can see it, Tatsumi can, everyone can."
Takashi was already going through his fourth shot, refusing to look at Watari. Instead, he fixed his eyes on a distant spot and focused on it.
"Of course I'm hurting," he said matter-of-factly. "How can I not? It's been nearly five years."
Watari shut his eyes, flinching slightly and unable to witness the amount of pain that vibrated behind those simple words. Five years. It really had been five years. Five years since they had fished Takashi's cold body from that tank, five years since Kyo had disappeared.
In the early part of the search mission, everyone had high hopes of finding Kyo. After all, a Shinigami does not disappear off the face of the earth without a trace. It was impossible. A Shinigami is tied to his job in more ways than one. There was a good reason for why every country had its own JuuOhCho. This was because a Shinigami is not allowed, or rather, can't go beyond the boundaries of the country his JuuOhCho was in without specific permission from Enma himself. A foreign Shinigami on the loose in another country could bring up all sorts of political ramifications that was best avoided if one had a healthy aversion to boiling lakes of blood and all that.
Besides, the instant you're a Shinigami, you're. . .bugged, for a lack of better term. A magical signature is tagged to your aura that allows the JuuOhCho to keep track of you. Shinigamis are in too much a position of power to be left alone and required supervision. Hence, all the 'Shinigami must work in pairs' policy.
So they had high hopes. They would find Kyo, kick him around for a bit for worrying them, and then kicked the Ayame chick next. One does not go about kidnapping Shinigamis, much less friends.
But as the days slid easily into the next, their hopes crumbled.
By the end of the 14 days period and still no trace of Kyo anywhere, they had begun to despair. Watari winced at the recollection of what had happened then. Takashi had gone berserk. He had ignored Enma's edict and roamed Chijou for days on end, neither sleeping, eating or resting at all. He evaded their every bid to find him and bring him back. It had taken a special envoy from Enma himself to do so.
Despite the threat of action for breaking an edict, Enma had relented and allowed Takashi leniency, but warning immediate forced resignation should he ignore orders again. It was with some relief that everyone saw Takashi accepting the decision quietly and settling down to his work. Everyone still kept a lookout for Kyo whenever they were on a mission but. . .
What worried them afterwards was the lack of reaction from Takashi as the years passed. He had thrown himself into his work with a vigour that barely scraped the edge of fanaticism but despite that, he was still the smiling sensei everyone knew. On the outside that is. He had gradually withdrawn himself from office activities, preferring to spend his time in the library or helping Watari in the lab. In fact, if it wasn't for Watari and Tatsumi's consistent efforts, he would have spent his days cooped up in the apartment.
"Bon and Tsuzuki are getting really worried about you, you know. Bon thinks you're avoiding him."
"Hmm," Takashi said noncommittally.
"Are you avoiding him?" Watari pressed.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because," Takashi said frankly, "I'm nearly going crazy inside and prefer not to drive Hisoka over the edge also. My hold on my shields are rather shaky sometimes."
A long silence filled the space between them while Takashi made short work of his tequila. A small signal sent the bartender scurrying over and after a resigned sigh from Takashi, had the young man leaving the whole bottle before him.
"How much did you drink tonight?" Watari asked suspiciously.
"Not enough apparently."
Watari eyed him thoughtfully. Takashi didn't look drunk. Nor did he act drunk. But he had consumed an astonishing amount the whole time he was there. What about before?
"How much?" Watari insisted.
Takashi shrugged. "I had at least three rounds before you came in."
Watari gaped. "You what??? And you're not even drunk yet??!!"
"Unfortunately no."
Watari hesitated, the righteous squawking he had intended to let loose upon Takashi swallowed back suddenly as an uneasy feeling settled like rotten fruit in his stomach.
"Takashi, besides the obvious reason, are there any other reasons why you're so hell-bent on getting drunk?"
Takashi turned slightly on his stool, finally looking at him and blinked owlishly, his hair falling into his eyes. His glasses had long been abandoned back at the office. Not like he really needed it anyway.
"It must be the perpetual genki face you put on," Takashi said thoughtfully. "It makes it easy to forget that you've got a hell of an intuition."
"Well?" Watari prompted. "Am I right?"
Takashi sighed. "Obviously."
"Care to elaborate?"
Takashi picked up a shot, swirling the liquor inside thoughtfully before downing it in a gulp.
"I can hear him," he announced.
"Hear who?"
"Kyo."
Silence again fell between them and Takashi took the opportunity to pour himself another shot.
Watari started cautiously, "What do you mean, you can 'hear' Kyo?"
"That I can hear him inside my head. Calling me. Always calling me." Takashi shot him an exasperated look at the doubt that filled his face and went on. "I'm not going crazy you know," he said reproachfully. "Did Kyo ever told you how he died?"
"That he died saving you. That's it."
Takashi nodded in affirmation and fixed him with a gaze that was too steady for a man who had been drinking all night, Shinigami or no Shinigami. "Did you know also," he said softly, "That Kyo and I both knew he was going to die?"
"You mean because of his injuries?" Watari asked, confused.
"No. We knew something. . .bad was going to happen months before. That's why we got married so quickly. The morning it happened. . ." his breath hitched slightly but he went on. "The morning it happened, we knew for sure that that was the day. But it wasn't something obvious. It wasn't a 'oh Kyo is going to die today' kind of feeling. We just. . .knew that we would lose each other that day."
Watari stared at him in a mix of horror and sympathy. "You. . .could tell? Are the two of you psychic?"
Takashi shook his head. "I don't think so. It only works between me and Kyo. For instance, we both could tell where each other was, how far away we were from each other, our general mood. . ." Takashi shrugged. "That sort of thing."
"But," Watari shook his head, "why couldn't you track him down then?"
"Because I couldn't hear him anymore."
Before he could stop himself, Watari had grasped Takashi in a sudden hug. At first, he was stiff in his arms but after a while, he relaxed, letting his head fall on Watari's shoulder as he started to shake almost imperceptibly.
"I couldn't hear him anymore. I couldn't even feel him," Takashi whispered into Watari's shoulder. "I tried and I tried but I couldn't hear him!"
"But now you can?" Watari asked cautiously.
"It started a couple of years ago. I started to hear him again but it wasn't clear. Instead of knowing where he was, all I could tell was that he was somewhere! I tried tracking him down but it was no use. I couldn't tell where he was."
"But. . .isn't that. . .better than nothing?"
Takashi laughed hollowly. "Yeah, hearing him in my head is better than nothing at all. Just hearing him calling and calling to me and not being able to do a fucking thing about it!"
Watari took a moment to calm him down, rubbing his back soothingly and murmuring nonsense in his ear. He ignored the strange looks several patrons of the pub gave them.
Watari ventured a guess. "Is that why you started drinking and smoking?"
"God help me I want to hear him. I want to be able to feel him! But he's just everywhere inside my head! I want to go to him but I can't! Because I can't tell where he is!" A hysterical note has entered Takashi's voice. "I don't want him to stop calling me but at the same time, I want him to shut up! Because I don't think I can take it anymore! I can't sleep at night, hearing him calling me. He's hurting. God, he's hurting and I can't help him. I can't help him."
Takashi had started to trail off into broken sentences, marred by sobs as he cried, burying his face in Watari's shoulder. Watari buried his own face in Takashi's hair and tried desperately to stop his own tears from falling. A part of his mind kept its analytical coolness, assessing the facts and coming up with some answers.
It wasn't unusual for a couple that was deeply in love to form a strong psychic bond with each other. He had witnessed it himself, in his line of work. Thought it wasn't something scientifically proven, nevertheless, he knew it was possible. After all, there some things that science just can't explain.
A good example would be Tsuzuki and Hisoka. The two shared a somewhat similar bond, augmented by the boy's empathy. But from what Takashi had told him, the bond he shared with Kyo was an altogether new level. The thought of knowing that you're going to lose your loved one and helpless to do anything about it. . .he shuddered at the thought. He had seen evidence of it in the past but had thought nothing about it. The way Kyo would light up in anticipation even before Takashi walked into the room, their uncanny ability to sense when the other was in trouble. It all added up.
And he's been hearing Kyo for a couple of years now. Always hearing but never knowing. God, it's a wonder he hasn't lost his mind already, Watari thought with a sickening twist in his stomach. I have to get him out of here. Maybe bon can help.
Fumbling one handed, he got his handphone out and dialed Tatsumi's number. Tatsumi picked up on the second ring.
"Yutaka?"
"Sei-chan," Watari said with a relieved sigh. "Can you meet me at that English pub in Shinjuku called The Leprechaun? I need your help with Takashi."
"I'll be there in a couple of minutes," Tatsumi promised and true to his words, he walked in the doors not long after. He raised an eyebrow in silent enquiry. Takashi was still sobbing quietly in his arms and Watari was rocking him back and forth. The blond gave him a tired smile and indicated the bartender.
"Can you pay first?" Watari asked in a low voice. "We need to get him back as soon as possible."
"Very well," Tatsumi nodded. After paying the bill, he turned to Watari with a worried frown. "What can I do?"
"We need to get bon over. I think we need his expertise," Watari said without preamble.
Tatsumi hesitated. Bringing in Kurosaki-kun usually meant someone needed emotional help in a bad way. Nodding grimly, he helped Watari shoulder some of Takashi's weight and stumbling slightly, managed to get him out of the pub with little incident. Once sure nobody was around to see them, they vanished without a trace.
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
"Can you help him, Kurosaki-kun?" Tatsumi asked.
The four of them were sitting in Takashi's living room with the sensei trying to rest in his bed. After appearing in Meifu, Tatsumi had immediately contacted Hisoka and in less than five minutes, he had appeared on the doorstep with Tsuzuki in tow.
Watari explained what Takashi had told him and no one could say anything for a few minutes.
"I think tonight was a sort of breaking point for him," Watari offered quietly. "It's finally catching up to him."
"Can you do anything for him, Kurosaki-kun?" Tatsumi asked again.
Hisoka bit his lip and threw Tsuzuki a worried glance. "Can you do anything to block the connection they have?"
Tsuzuki shook his head. "Nothing in 'jitsu is possible for something like that. It's too intangible for a spell to work."
"I thought so," Hisoka sighed. "I think I can help him but it won't be a permanent solution. The most I can do for him is give him an undisturbed sleep tonight."
"Is that all?" Watari asked with dismay.
"Aa," Hisoka sighed heavily. "I'm afraid of going too deep beyond that. I might damage something without realizing it. I haven't really practiced my empathy in that way before."
After an eternity of silence, Tsuzuki offered them scant comfort. "At least, it's better than nothing."
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
"God, he is sooo cute!"
"Are you crazy? He's not cute! He's gorgeous!"
"Extremely!"
"Totally! He looks so hot in his hakama and uwagi!"
"Hell, he makes it more fashionable than a pair of Levi's!"
Aki turned and gave her two giggling friends a weird look. The two girls, Imai and Natsumi, had their heads bent close together, hands over their mouths as they giggled, tittered and generally, being very girlishly scary.
"Imai-chan, Natsu-chan," she stated. "Are you two talking about whom I think you're talking about?"
"Yes!" the two of them singsong. The three of them were amidst a little island of calm as around them, the air was filled with the whoosh and thwack of bamboo swords cutting through air as the other members of the kendo club practiced. Sensei had allowed them time to practice freely, working on whatever they thought needed work as he circled around, correcting some and praising others.
Aki let her own sword fall point first on the floor as she leaned on it slightly and gave her friends a look equivalent to finding someone who had just sprouted antennas and singing the Tellytubbies song.
"You were saying. . .?" she raised an eyebrow.
"That he's just so hot and should be made illegal!" Imai proudly declared.
"Hai! He should be a star! Have poster albums of his own! Release a debut album that will sell millions of copies! Model for Calvin Klein underwear ads! Pose nake-umph!"
Aki had slapped her hand over Natsumi's mouth, stopping her fanatical tirade.
"Are you guys crazy?!" she half-shrieked. "That's my dad you're talking about!"
The said object of affection was her dad. Aki was fortunate/unfortunate—
(depends on how you look at it. Say, if you were a guy and wanted to hit on Aki, it's quite unfortunate. For girls with overactive hormones, it was a Godsend)
--enough to have her own father teaching at the high school she went to. Her dad taught Physical Education and was sensei of the kendo club, which she was a member.
Aki had to admit, her dad was good looking. Even approaching his thirty eighth birthday, Tanaka Kyo had the distinct pleasure of not looking his age. If anyone had to guess they would put him around 28 or even 30 at the most. People tended to do a double take when he told them his real age, some even demanded to see proof.
His hair had been left to grow long this past year, more of her mom's doing than her dad. Okasan loved having otochan's hair long. She said it made him look beautiful (Dad had seemed quite miffed at being labeled beautiful). His hair was a deep black, falling in soft bangs that brushed his eyes and was caught up in a ponytail. Eyes the color of the lightest blue was her dad's main attraction, with high cheekbones and a mouth (as girls in school had recently voted) that begged to be kissed.
Usually, Aki tried to avoid looking at the latest poll results concerning teachers at their school. It gave her the creeps at finding out that her own dad was voted 'Best Teacher To Kiss'.
Still, Aki admitted that her dad was handsome. Extremely so. It just totally weirded her out having her own friends go ga-ga over him.
Not that everyone paid attention to her dad only. Aki was also sought after in school by boys. She had inherited her dad's good looks, naturally only more delicately feminine in structure with hair as equally black and longer. Her eyes were a light gray rather than blue. She had gotten that from her mother. Her dad and she also moved with the same grace. Having been taught kendo since she could hold a shinai, Aki was a good fighter, talented even, and was a near equal to her dad.
Shaking her head, Aki gave her friends an exasperated smile and jabbed Natsumi lightly. "Can you guys please not talk about my own dad that way?"
"Sorry, Aki-chan!" Imai said cheerfully. She swung her shinai around playfully at her and Aki quickly blocked. It was mostly a diversionary tactic; if the sensei, her dad, caught them slacking, daughter or not, all three of them would get screwed.
"Yeah," Natsumi echoed as she casually started a three-way duel with the other girls. "We can't help it you know. He makes us go weak."
"Don't tell me that's the reason why you guys joined the club?" Aki lifted an eyebrow in teasing enquiry and made a fast parry with Natsumi and got caught crosswise with Imai. "My dad would be devastated to hear you joined only for his looks and not for the art."
"Of course we joined for kendo itself," Imai said indignantly, breaking the lock their shinai were caught in. "He just happened to be a side benefit," she grinned.
Before Aki could dignify that with a reply, a sudden thwap on her head caused her to drop her shinai in sharp surprise. Two other successive thwaps told her Imai and Natsumi received the same fate.
"I can tell the difference between horsing around and practicing you know," was the dry statement. "And the three of you are definitely not practicing."
Aki gave her dad a bright smile as Imai and Natsumi meeped and edged behind her. "Gomen, sensei!" she said cheerfully. Her dad didn't like it when she called him other than that when in school. He didn't want to be accused of showing favourites. "I was just teaching Imai and Natsu how to. . . .er. . . .how to. . . ." she trailed off, wracking her brain frantically for a good answer.
"How to. . . .what?" Kyo cocked his head to the side, shinai slung absently over his shoulder. The smile twinkling in his eyes showed that he didn't buy any of it and was clearly enjoying himself, waiting for the inevitable story Aki would make up.
"Well you see sensei," Aki started with a straight look on her face. Around her, the other students had stopped practicing as well and were watching the unfolding scene with carefully repressed sniggers behind gloved hands.
"Not many people realize that in a real fight, not every fighter you meet is willing to meet you in an honorable one on one. More often than not, the case is where you find yourself badly outnumbered, locked in a fierce struggle as you try to block every vicious blow, hampered in on all sides by foes intent on showing you no mercy as you tried to breathe, sweat running down your face! You back away, fearing for you life as they press in all around you but not willing to chose the coward's way!"
The twinkle in her dad's eyes got brighter as her storytelling grew more descriptive and outlandish and even Natsu and Imai had to suppress their giggles.
"Your feet slipped on a puddle and you lose you balance!" Aki said dramatically. Her dad had bent over slightly, laughing and the other students were clutching each other for support as they laughed as well. "You see a sword coming at you from above and you made a desperate bid to free yourself, only to slip again! Before you could twist away from the deathblow, another gleaming arc slices through the air, whistling dangerously close to your ear and—"
"Sensei!"
"—aw, I was getting to the good part!" Aki complained as the school doctor came through the gym doors, walking fast. It was the new doctor, only arrived this morning to replace the old one who wanted to enjoy the quiet peace of old age. The new doctor was a cheerful, smiling redhead. Cute.
Kyo turned around, still laughing softly and was caught short as he stared in puzzlement at the approaching sensei. "Who's that?" he asked.
"It's the new doctor Dad," Aki said absently, forgetting the 'sensei'. "He came this morning when you were getting the gym ready."
"Oh."
There was a strange look in her dad's eyes. Something like recognition flared briefly before dying down only to be replaced by confusion. Aki frowned. Was the doctor an old friend? She didn't think so though. If he was, her dad would have recognized him straight off.
"I'll just go see what he wants," Kyo said distractedly. "Try to work on your story a bit more won't you?"
"Yes sir," Aki grinned as Kyo wended his way through the milling students. A soft word from him sent them scurrying back to positions and once again, shinais whistled through the air as everyone pretended to not be paying attention to what the sensei wanted with their coach.
Dad and the sensei had closed in, the sensei talking animatedly and gesturing enthusiastically with his hands. From this spot, she could just make out her dad's face. Politely attentive with the confusion still lingering somewhere. Before she could wonder about it though, a look passed across his face. A look that she knew too well and dreaded.
For the briefest instant, sudden surprise flickered in his eyes to be replaced by a resigned anticipation mixed with dread.
Not a second later, Dad clutched his chest and fell on the floor with a boneless thump.
"Daddy!" she shrieked and ran to his side. The students were still in shock by the sudden collapse but the sensei had kneeled down on the floor, quickly loosening her dad's clothing and lying him flat on his back.
"Daddy!" she lifted his head off the hard floor to cradle in her lap. His face had turned deathly white, sweat trickling down his brow as he struggled to breathe. His hand still clutched weakly at his chest, the fingers in an erratic spasm.
"Somebody call an ambulance!" the sensei yelled. He was still kneeling by her side and was trying to feel for his pulse. "I think he's having a heart attack. You're his daughter? We have to get him to the hospital quick!"
"No!" she grabbed the sensei and scanned the gathering crowd quickly. "Natsu! Get my dad's sports bag from his office! Hurry!"
Nodding, Natsu took off in a run. Aki grasped her dad's clenched hands in her own said soothingly. "It's okay Dad. You'll be fine in a minute. Hold on, okay?"
The pupils were dilated, nearly eclipsing the pale blue irises as Kyo gasped weakly. His body started to jerk spasmodically and to her ears, his breathing sounded dangerously weak. This attack was frighteningly severe, more so than usual. Aki tried to keep her voice steady even as she and the sensei held on to him firmly.
"You'll be fine Dad. Don't worry. Just focus on me, okay?" she smiled shakily.
"What are you doing?" the sensei hissed at her ear suddenly. "We have to get him to a hospital quickly!"
Aki risked a scorching glance at the sensei. "It's not a heart attack," she hissed back. "He's had it since he was small. We have medication to control it. Bringing him to a hospital is useless. They won't be able to help him."
Natsu came back then, dropping to her knees and opening the sports bag she had brought with her hurriedly. "What do you need?" she asked crisply.
Aki took a second to thank the gods for Natsu's level headedness in a crisis. "Look in the zippered compartment inside," she instructed her friend. "There should be a small brown bottle. No tags. Just a plain bottle."
Natsu nodded and rifled through the bag. A moment later, with a triumphant cry, she held out to Aki a bottle just like she described it. It was plain and unmarked.
Taking it, she worked out the cork stopper with her teeth, spat it out and held the lip of the bottle gingerly over her dad's mouth.
"C'mon Dad, drink it," she urged.
Clear liquid fell in a steady stream as Kyo choked the bitter medicine down. Aki was careful to not let any spill out. The medicine was hard to make and harder to get. After giving him a quarter of the bottle's contents, Aki quickly re-corked it and gave it back to Natsu who placed it gingerly back inside the bag.
"That's it Dad," she murmured softly. "You'll be fine in a minute."
All around them, the students stared down in sick fascination and dismay. Not a few of the girls had started crying softly. Though this wasn't the first time her dad had an episode in school, it was the first time the other students had witnessed it.
After a tense-filled minute, Kyo finally managed to breathe normally, albeit still a bit weak. His hand fell limply to his side and slight color returned to his pale cheeks. He managed a small smile for Aki's sake before his eyes fluttered close and his whole body sagged as he lost consciousness. Aki let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and carefully brushed back the damp bangs off his forehead. His face was relaxed, free from pain as his breathing deepened.
"What was that all about?"
The sharp voice startled her out of her reverie and Aki frowned at the sensei. She knew it wasn't the sensei's fault that her dad had an attack. No one, not even her dad, really knew what triggered it; sometimes it could be due to excitement but rarely did they know why. Still, she couldn't help placing the blame on the doctor. After all, it was her dad.
"He's fine now," a sharp edge to her tone and her grey eyes grew colder.
"But what was it?" the sensei insisted. The belligerent look in his eyes had subsided slightly in the face of her obvious displeasure but he was still waiting doggedly for an answer.
Aki sighed and stroked her dad's hair sadly.
"Nothing that we can't handle," she said softly.
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
to be continued
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
A/N: Kyo has a daughter. Who can believe it? Does anyone still want to kill Ayame? Can you just IMAGINE the pot of trouble that will boil over when the Shinigamis find out about Aki????
PS: the movie Gohatto does exist. And yes, it IS about a gay samurai lord falling in lust with a recruit. ^__^;;;
PPS: So did anyone finally realize the little clues I've sprinkled around in "Come To Me" and "A Love Story"? The whole premonition thing? Hehe, told you I like to do really vague hints. ^__^