Disclaimer: Nibai is the only one I own. No matter how many X posters and calendars and tankoban I buy…
Twin Star
Chapter 9
Nibai was missing, and Kamui was missing, and Sorata was starting to get pissed off. The library had closed hours ago; dusk had fallen and still there was no sign of them. Arashi had gone to look for them, telling him to stay at home in case one or both of them returned. Yuzuriha had homework of her own, and although she insisted that she wanted to help, she would have been of little use in a search and so he and Arashi had decided that it was better for her to remain home as well and get her own work done. It hadn't been important enough – yet – to contact the other Dragons or Hinoto, for worrying people over nothing was not something even Sorata wanted to do.
And so he was left here, moving idly around the house with nothing to do, no way to help, and getting both bored and annoyed rather quickly. He wasn't sure what to think – after all, Hinoto would have told them of a foreseen attack, that much he knew. So it was unlikely that a battle was taking place. Someone would know about it.
And now he felt like someone's father, waiting for his children to come home, and he was damned if he was going to act like a parent, of all things. What a concept. And a frightening one at that, he thought, grinning despite himself.
So that left him to wonder if Nibai had finally managed to crack Kamui, and that thought only widened his grin even now, as he was still fighting the urge to hit something in frustration at not knowing where they were. But he had to admit that certainly was an interesting possibility…
The front door opened and closed; he looked up from the place on the couch where he'd finally seated himself, expecting Arashi to come into the room having had no luck in her search…
And instead caught a glimpse of Kamui as he made his way stiffly up the stairs to his room.
Sorata shot up the stairs less than half a minute later, calling even as he heard the door slam shut on Kamui's room.
"Oy! Kamui, what the hell've – oy, Kamui, come on, open the door, willya? We were worried about you guys, and where's Nibai, didn't she want to come back for dinner – hey, where the hell have you been?" he asked, as Kamui opened the door in the middle of his sentence. He looked at the younger boy, and was suddenly worried all over again.
"Ne… Kamui, are you all right? Did something happen? Did –"
"Nothing happened," Kamui said flatly – more flatly than usual, if that was possible. He looked positively awful, skin pale even for him, and his entire body was tense with frustration or stress. There was a lost look added to his dull eyes, and Sorata wanted to know just what the hell had happened. Because something must have. He'd learned not to listen to Kamui's insistence on such things long ago.
"Ne, if nothing happened, then why do you look worse than usual? And why were you late?"
"Do I have to have a reason for everything I do?" Kamui asked, his voice suddenly gaining some bite, and Sorata took a step back.
"Hey, don't go biting my head off. Look, we were worried, okay? The library closed hours ago, and where is Nibai?" he asked, figuring dropping the subject of Kamui's looks was probably best for the moment.
"How should I know? Do I look like I own her?" he snapped. "Oh wait," he went on, suddenly, "I do, don't I, because that damned Hinoto has decided to make her think that she has to go and die for me." Sorata winced – Kamui's words were like knives, and it almost physically hurt as they washed over his skin.
A pause, and suddenly there was a new look in Kamui's eyes – anger, and Sorata almost took another step back.
"Ne –"
"Well I don't know where she is, and I don't care, and all of you and your damned destinies can go to hell."
And the door slammed in his face. Sorata flinched, and there was a rather uneasy feeling beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach.
So Kamui knew… He knew about Nibai's fate, and how she had decided to use it.
What else did he know?
Although… now was most certainly not the time to ask it. Sorata went downstairs, dropping ungracefully onto the couch once more, and hoping that Arashi would find Nibai so he would stop feeling like such a damned parent all over again.
* * *
Everything hurt. Everything hurt, and her insides felt as though they'd been ripped to shreds even as her arms, legs, and shoulders felt as though they'd been rubbed so hard with gravel that it was permanently embedded in her skin. She was confused, and her head spun, and she dared to take a breath and open her eyes, trying to remember what had happened to her.
The cloudy light of predawn was just beginning to filter through the curtained window, and she was surrounded by the stuffed animals also lying on this comforter in the room of a girl she had never met.
She closed her eyes again, suddenly wishing to not remember what had happened to her. As if that could somehow erase it…
Her hands were bound to the headboard, her feet bound to the legs at the foot of the bed. Her clothing was torn and bloodied, and she was sure the blankets beneath her were ruined beyond repair. There were glass shards ground into the cuts everywhere on her skin, and there was dried blood between her legs and suddenly she felt like she was going to be sick –
And she was given no respite as the door opened and Fuuma stepped into the room and flipped on the lights. She could only just barely see the cracked plaster and bloody gouges in the hall behind him before he closed the door, leaning on it and looking down at her with an expression of extreme satisfaction.
He held a kitchen knife in one hand, and for one dizzying moment, all she could think was, Thank God, he's come to kill me.
"Oh, you don't really want me to kill you," he purred, seeing the look on her face. He stepped away from the door, the knife flashing in the lamplight. "If that was what you truly wished… well," he grinned down at her, "I might even consider giving you that. But it's not what you want, don't be childish."
She was rather sure she did want him to do just that, but she kept her mouth shut and settled for glaring at him. It was the best she could do – she didn't trust herself to open her mouth, not while her stomach was heaving at the memories… And not while she could nearly feel her blood beginning to boil, the hate welling up so strongly this time that she almost felt as though she could flex her arms and be rid of these restraints –
"You won't break those," he said, motioning to her hands and feet. He grinned again. "I made sure of that, Nibai-chan." He came and seated himself on the edge of the bed, beside her and she was torn between showing as much defiance as she could muster and trying to curl into the smallest ball possible.
She couldn't move, so she'd have to settle for defiance, and she looked daggers at him and tried to seem as though he couldn't phase her.
But she knew better, and he knew better, and he was going to let her know he knew. She was sure of that.
"Oh, you're so cute when you're trying to be brave," he quipped, his mouth suddenly very close to her ear. She shuddered, was angry at having done so, and turned her head away.
"How about using that knife on these ropes?" she asked, voice as steady as she could make it, staring at a spot on the wall just above the dresser, head still turned away from him.
"Hm," he hummed, sounding thoughtful and she knew he was faking. "How about… not."
She felt cold steel against her face, as he placed the flat edge of the blade along her cheek. She didn't dare move –
"I like playing with you far too much to just let you go, Nibai-chan," he said softly. "And there's much I still have to do, before I can –"
"I'm not your plaything," she spat, before she even knew what she was saying. "I don't belong to you, and neither does Kamui."
The blade turned, the sharp edge resting on her skin now and he had only to press down with the least amount of force –
"Kamui is mine."
"Then why did you capture me?"
"That's none of your concern," he said pleasantly, leaning over her, his other hand moving to cradle her face and force her eyes to fall on his. "And personally, Nibai-chan, I'd be more concerned about myself here than about Kamui. Or are you really that foolish…?"
She only glared back into his eyes, wanting nothing more than to break the stare but unable to turn her head, unwilling to close her eyes in defeat.
He laughed, and stood up, and she was almost relieved – maybe he would go away now, maybe the knife had only been to threaten her with, because he had said himself that he wasn't going to kill her –
And then he dropped onto the bed again, on his knees now and straddling her hips, and she could feel her eyes widen in shock and disgust and he leaned down over her, knife held firmly in his hand.
His other hand reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling it upward and he raised the knife, bringing it down –
He tossed the severed strands of hair over his shoulder, not caring where they went or how they coated the carpet behind him, only intent on lifting the next fistful of hair and severing that –
"You know, if you wanted a wig there are these places that sell – "
He ceased his slashing and dove down, forcing his lips over hers so quickly that she didn't have time to resist as his tongue plunged into her mouth, nearly choking her.
He pulled back and gazed down at her, eyes now filled with malice and not much else.
"Nibai-chan, remember what I told you about being quiet?" He waved the knife before her face – much closer than she would have liked. "Don't think I won't cut your tongue out, Nibai-chan." His eyes narrowed. "I will."
She really had no doubt that he would. And she tried her hardest not to show that.
He laughed again and resumed chopping her hair. It didn't take him that long, really, considering he was just cutting at random, and cutting large chunks with each swipe at her head. Soon he seemed satisfied, and carefully laid the knife beside her head on the pillow, looking down at her with a feral grin and satisfaction glinting in those dark eyes.
She'd had enough. "Can you at least tell me why the hell you saw fit to give me the worst haircut of my life?" Not that she'd been particularly attached to her hair, it really was getting too long, but she hadn't intended for anyone to ever chop it this short, and she was still so frightened that the only way to not think about it was to use her tongue and not her brain.
He shook his head slightly. "Nibai-chan, Nibai-chan, are all you Dragons of Heaven that blind? I shouldn't even tell you, for being so stupid," he said. And began unbuckling his belt.
"… Ne?" He was not…
He tossed his belt over the side of the bed, and settled more of his weight on her. And she thought she was going to be sick again.
He leaned down over her until his face was scant inches from hers, until she could feel his breath on her lips and she almost wished she would be sick, that would show him…
"He liked your hair, Nibai-chan," he murmured, tongue working its way along her cheek again. "He liked it, and you know, we can't have that."
He sat up again, looking down at her before starting on the zipper of his pants.
"Because we've already decided which Kamui you belong to, now haven't we?"
* * *
Kamui woke, slowly, his surroundings strange and yet familiar all at the same time. He blinked away disorientation and sat up, suddenly cringing with pain. He was stiff with bandages, the clean white strips wrapped neatly about his arms, and from how he felt, his midsection as well. His head spun slightly, but not enough to keep him from remembering what had happened.
He'd been talking with Daisuke… and he'd seen the Dragon in the sky, and felt Fuuma…
Fuuma. Daisuke had beaten him there, and he'd seen….
He'd seen Fuuma rip Daisuke to pieces like he was a paper doll. He'd seen Fuuma grin, and wave his hands and say something about granting a wish, and then…
And then he'd killed Daisuke.
Even as the anger – and yet remorse – rose in his gut, he remembered something else. Something else Fuuma had said to him, as in his anger Kamui had tried to kill him, and missed, his killing blow falling short of its mark.
Because he didn't want to kill Fuuma. Not really. He wanted to kill the person who was doing these things, who would sink this low, who would end the world… but that person wasn't Fuuma. He knew that as surely as he knew anything else.
Which wasn't very reassuring at the moment.
But Fuuma's words were dancing in his mind again, and anger began rising once more…
"I have something of yours, by the way," he'd said, eyes glinting with some sort of sick amusement as Kamui had gaped up at him, wondering what he meant.
Fuuma had laughed. "I'll bet you didn't even know it was missing, either, now did you?"
Kamui had no choice but to ask, "What?"
A slight shake of the head. "Oh, you probably wouldn'tve noticed she was missing yourself, not for a few days at least. They noticed, of course, but they're all too busy keeping their distance from you to tell you."
She? Kamui's eyes had narrowed, a sinking feeling in the pit of his already churning stomach, as he gazed up at this person, this new person that he still refused could actually be Fuuma.
"Who's missing?"
More laughter. "You've got to learn to be more observant, Kamui. Why, hasn't it been a little quieter lately without her around? One of them is bad enough, perhaps you're just glad for the respite."
Nibai.
"Of course," Fuuma was saying, "if you don't hurry, she won't be yours any longer."
Kamui's eyes narrowed further, as he backed away from Fuuma. "Where is she?" He had meant for it to come out as less of a plea and more of a demand, but it was hard to do so, especially with Daisuke's body lying so close to him, and blood still everywhere, coating his clothes and his skin and his hair and his world…
"Where? Why, where else, but the same place as the last person who held that special little place in your heart?"
And with that, and a sickening grin, Fuuma had blasted him against… something hard, for Kamui had obviously lost consciousness and now there was an annoying lack of information about what had happened between then and now. A leaden feeling sat in the pit of his stomach, as he realized, really realized…
Fuuma has Nibai. He's kidnapped her, and he's keeping her somewhere. Somewhere I should know about…
He was almost tempted to think Fuuma had been joking, sarcasm coating his words when he'd spoken of "the last person to hold that place in his heart."
But… but there was only one person he could think of that had held any real place in his heart that Fuuma could mean…
Kotori.
But… but to think about Kotori, and then Nibai…
He closed his eyes, as if that would take away the physical pain needling through his heart, making it hard to breathe as he thought of Kotori. As he thought of Fuuma, killing Kotori. As he thought of Nibai, and for an instant considered Fuuma's words and what they could mean, if he chose to believe them…
He refused to believe Fuuma's words, even as he knew he was deluding himself, but what else could he do?
How could he believe – believe, and go on – that Nibai and Kotori held similar places in his heart? The same place, or anything close to the same place. He couldn't have that. He wouldn't have that.
No matter what it meant.
But then that still left him wondering where Nibai was. Kotori was buried on CLAMP Campus – Kamui shoved down the rush of anguish and self-loathing that again welled up at that thought, hard though it was – and Nibai was missing. Or so everyone seemed to keep telling him, now…
Where was she, then? He dropped his head into his hands, despair suddenly washing over him, and he wished for the millionth time since he could remember that he was dead, that none of this had happened, that he had never existed… Anything but this pain. He wished, even when he knew he could not have it, for the means to end this pain.
Or for the strength to keep trudging through it.
Either one would do, really. If only he had one of them.
