Disclaimer: Not mine. -_-;; (But Nibai is!)
NOTE: I skip a bit of time in the story here, but I'm following the TV anime series. Hope that helps. ^^;;
Twin Star
Chapter 10
Sorata had told him to "go home and get some rest." As if that were an option, really. "Rest" was no longer in Kamui's vocabulary, and the house that Nokoru had provided for them felt about as far from his "home" as when he'd moved away from Fuuma and Kotori when he was young. And his mother had been with him then.
He closed his eyes to the pain that her memory brought up – surely he needed to get over her death. And over Kotori's death as well. Another pang of guilt and pain stabbed him as he thought of her then, bound to those beams, looking down at him desperately as he could do nothing but scream as Fuuma brought the sword down towards her chest –
He shook his head, as if that would clear the memories away. But he didn't want the memories to go away, not really – he didn't want to forget about his mother or Kotori or even Tokiko-san. And he was afraid that if it didn't hurt…
He didn't know what to do, if it didn't hurt. Losing the pain meant losing something else, he was sure, and he was afraid of what that might be.
And he'd lost too much already.
Fuuma.
And now Nibai.
Why did these fools insist on… on helping him? Didn't they see that they weren't really helping him at all, only dragging him down into the depths of somewhere cold and alone and most certainly someplace he'd rather not be. He wanted to be someplace warm, someplace pleasant and filled with the people he loved. The people he had loved, because there really weren't many of them left.
He wanted to be someplace he knew he could never go. Someplace he knew would never exist. And he didn't know what to do, now that he was left here, and not there, for good.
Inuki was barking, he could hear the dog's yelps from downstairs in the living room. He chose to ignore them. Instead he focused on willing the images and sounds to go away, to leave him alone in the peace of his room here, where he knew there was no respite but sought it anyway.
The spirit dog's barking became more insistent, and suddenly he heard Yuzuriha's voice.
"Who… who are you?"
She and Kamui were the only ones here – that question could only mean –
"Oh, I'm just a friend Kamui-chan knows from school," Fuuma's voice drawled in response, and Kamui was up off the bed and out into the hall in an instant, leaping down the stairs four at a time and landing in the living room silently but full of rage. He had no room – no time – to feel anything else.
"Well, speak of the devil," Fuuma grinned to him from beside the couch, where Yuzuriha sat, looking frightened. Inuki was bristling and growling beside her, but something about Fuuma was keeping him at bay.
That was probably for the best; Fuuma would probably kill the dog without a second thought. Or a regret. Hell, he'd probably kill Yuzuriha as well. Just one more thing that served to remind him that this was not his Fuuma. But this was the only person who could bring him back.
"What do you want?" Kamui asked, careful to keep his voice level, pushing down the fear and anger as effectively as he could. The worst thing to do right now would be to show Fuuma weakness.
"It's been an entire day, I'd have thought you'd have solved my little clue by now." Fuuma sighed, pulling something out of his pocket.
Inuki's growls became louder.
"Oh, come now, it's only a present for my Kamui-chan," Fuuma said reproachfully, casting his words down to the dog. "Just a little… encouragement. Since he's so slow at these things."
He flashed Kamui another grin and tossed something at him. He caught the small box out of instinct, flinching as it flew towards his face.
When he looked up from the box he had caught in his hands, Fuuma was gone and Yuzuriha was clutching the still-bristling Inuki to her, eyes wide with fear.
Kamui looked back down to the box in his hands; it was a small thing, made of cherry wood with three sakura leaves carved onto the surface, depicted as if they were floating in the breeze.
His stomach knotted – he knew this box, he realized, running one finger over the carved top, closing his eyes and calling up the memory, painful as it was.
This box was Kotori's. Fuuma had bought it for her, that first year Kamui had moved here and they'd all gone to a festival with their mothers. It had been a warm night, with fireflies dancing among the festival-goers and wonders around every corner. Kotori had seen the box and had been immediately taken with it; Fuuma had secretly bought it for her and presented it to her that night, before the three of them had finally parted to sleep. She had been thrilled, and kept all of her most precious things in it, stored beneath her bed where she thought it would be safe. When she had been alive.
He opened his eyes, stomach churning, fingers shaking as they lifted the lid to reveal the red velvet that lined the inside.
He blinked, staring down at what lay in the box, his teeth clenching in anger as he snapped the box shut, nearly breaking it in the absolute anger and mortification that had suddenly taken over his every thought.
Yuzuriha was looking at him expectantly, curiosity beginning to override the fear in her eyes.
"What is it?" she asked tentatively, stroking Inuki absent-mindedly as she watched Kamui carefully.
"I'm leaving," he said suddenly, heading for the door. Yuzuriha leapt from the couch, protesting as Inuki followed her.
"But you can't! You need to stay here, you need to wait for the others, and if you won't then can't I come with you –"
"I'm going alone," he replied, one hand on the doorknob.
"Where are you going?" Yuzuriha pleaded, standing behind him as he turned.
"I know where Nibai is," he said, and was gone before she could protest any further.
She knew it was nearly pointless to follow him. She knew she probably couldn't keep up, and she knew that she would likely be of no help. She sighed, frustration coursing through her. She hated feeling so useless.
Inuki whined from beside her calf; she smiled a bit and looked down at him, scratching him behind the ears, where he liked it.
"Hai, I know you love me, Inuki," she said, somewhat consoled; Inuki always had that effect on her.
After a moment of scratching, Inuki sniffed the air, his ears suddenly perking up as he pulled away from Yuzuriha. Her stomach churned as she looked down at him, worried, wondering what it was that was bothering him.
He turned and walked back into the living room; she followed and saw that Kamui had left a box – the one Fuuma had thrown at him – on the table. Inuki was sniffing it, looking back to her and whining softly.
"What is it, Inuki?" she asked softly, walking over to the table and picking up the box, admiring its beauty, tracing the tiny sakura leaves carved into its lid.
She opened it, curious –
And dropped it, staring at her feet as the box fell open and a lock of long, ebony hair tumbled out.
* * *
He stood outside the dark house, stomach churning with both anger and fear, torn between memories and what could possibly lie in the very near future. A slight breeze picked up, ruffling his hair and making him shiver involuntarily.
He closed his eyes, remembering why he was here. And what he needed to do.
He opened his eyes and stepped up to the door, trying the handle. It was open. He pushed the door open and walked into the hall, ignoring the ghosts that seemed to seep out of the very floor and walls and call out to him. He closed his mind to the memories and focused on the end of the hall, focused on the door on the right that he knew led into Kotori's room.
He stopped opposite her door and stared at the wall – he wondered what had happened, but had a bad feeling that he didn't really need to wonder. The plaster was cracked, and shards of glass littered the floor. Everything was covered in old, brown blood, and he coughed as the smell of it reached his nose.
No, he knew what had happened there. Something all-too-similar had happened to him, once. He turned his attention to the door instead, sidestepping the mess of glass and plaster.
There were no lights on in the room, either; there was only inky darkness beneath the closed door. He screwed up any courage he had room to feel and placed his hand on the cold handle, turning it…
The room was indeed dark, but a splash of the night sky shone through the window, still framed by the same curtains Kotori had loved so much. In fact, the room still looked exactly like he remembered it…
He suppressed a shudder and turned his eyes to the bed as he heard a sound –
And his mouth dropped open. He blinked, absolutely refusing to see what he saw there.
Because what he saw was Nibai, lying on the bed, her hands and feet bound to the bedframe, her uniform – what was left of it – torn and bloody. He could see gaping, uncleaned wounds on her arms and legs.
He did the first thing that came to mind; he flipped on the lights, flinching in the sudden brightness. When he could see again, he saw the clumps of hair littering the carpet, saw where they had come from, for all of Nibai's hair had been hacked nearly down to her scalp. In fact… there was a knife embedded in the wall above her head, a few dark strands wound about the brightly glinting blade.
There was another sound – Nibai moved, on the bed, and he looked to her to see that she was also blinking in the bright light. He took a few steps towards her, as her dark eyes slowly focused on his form.
"Ka… Kamui?" she coughed out, staring up at him as if she couldn't believe that he was here.
"It's me," he said, but even those two words were suddenly hard to get out.
A beat, then her bruised mouth twisted into what could pass as the ghost of a wry smile.
"Well, genius, if it's not too much bother, could you untie me? I mean, I'm absolutely starving, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to eat when you're tied to a bed, you know?"
The absurd words shocked him into action – immediately he was untying her arms, then her feet as she struggled slowly into a sitting position. He glanced up at her and saw a sudden blush spring into her cheeks.
And he was suddenly aware that there really wasn't very much of her uniform left intact.
He suppressed the blush that surged into his own cheeks and turned his head away, shrugging out of his uniform jacket and handing it to her.
"Thanks – ow," she said, as the material disappeared from his hand. "Much – ow – appreciated."
He heard cloth slowly sliding over skin, and refused to blush. No matter how much his body wanted to.
"Okay," she said, her voice suddenly weaker, after another moment. He turned back around, staring at her in the light, suddenly mortified at the extent of her injuries even as he was surprised she could even sit up.
Her thighs were caked with blood clotted over wounds that still sparkled with glass shards, and he was sure her arms did not look much different. The way she was holding them, slightly outward from her body and very stiffly, only intensified his suspicions. There were a few bruises on her face, a few lines of dried blood where it looked like Fuuma, in his obvious effort to cut her hair off, had missed and cut her face as well.
Her hair – Kamui stood, completely mortified now, realizing…
How had Fuuma known? How could he possibly –
And suddenly he found that he was angry – very angry…
"Um… not to sound rude or anything," Nibai began softly from below him, "but would you mind getting me out of here? Much as I love wearing your clothes…"
"Let's go," Kamui said, suddenly filled with the desire to leave there as soon as possible. He would deal with this later. He would deal with this for a very long time, later.
* * *
Kamui was lifting her, delicate hands pulling her up and she bit her tongue as even his touch elicited such pain that she wanted nothing more than to pass out and for all of it to go away. Much as she could barely believe Kamui was there, saving her from this hell, she still hurt far too much to want to bear consciousness for some time.
He looped one arm carefully around her shoulders, and she found herself leaning into him as he began heading for the doorway.
Only to have it blocked by Fuuma.
Kamui froze, his body going stiff beside her as he blinked up at the taller boy and she felt her hate welling up again, wanting nothing more than to bury her face in Kamui's shoulder and erase the sight of Fuuma before them. But she knew she couldn't do that.
"Ah, so you do have a brain in that pretty little head of yours," Fuuma said, leaning against the doorframe and smirking down at them. "I thought so."
Make him go away, make him go away…
"Oh, Fuuma, you flatter me," Nibai said dryly from beside Kamui, shocking him so that he turned and stared at her, but she was more than angry at Fuuma for being here, for doing this when she was in no shape protect Kamui properly. Angry at him for other things she dared not to think about right now.
"You flatter yourself, bitch," Fuuma replied easily, with no malice audible behind his smooth words. "Or have you forgotten whose bitch you are, hmm?"
Nibai felt herself flush with shame, shame that quickly grew into anger. She still wanted to beat Fuuma, to hurt him and make him feel the pain and embarrassment that she felt now, to make him pay for ever doing anything to not only herself, but to the boy beside her who now stood frozen in place.
"Stand aside, Fuuma," Kamui growled, staring up at the older boy, standing up a little straighter, careful to hurt her as little as possible as she did all she could to keep her eyes open, to stay awake and defiant here and now.
Fuuma grinned. "Or you'll what, Kamui-chan? You're taking something that's mine, after all – of course I'm going to try and stop you."
"Yours? Something that's yours? Remember that you told me you had something of mine, Fuuma," Kamui snapped in reply.
Fuuma laughed. "No, I told you that if you didn't hurry, it wouldn't be yours anymore. And, well," he shot Nibai a feral grin before looking back to Kamui, "you didn't hurry."
Kamui glared at Fuuma, something like disbelief and anger crossing his features, as Nibai was suddenly fed up with being referred to as belonging to anyone. She was sick of Fuuma treating her like a doll, like a plaything, because she was not a damned possession –
"You're forgetting, baka, that I don't belong to anyone," she said as defiantly as she could, startling Kamui beside her. He looked surprised that she could raise her voice in protest; to be honest, so was she.
"Hm," Fuuma purred, "your body would say otherwise, Nibai-chan."
Her cheeks burned with shame, but she refused to show any other sign of how she had lost to him. If she admitted defeat, he would win, and she was damned if she would let Fuuma win anything, she was damned if she would let Fuuma walk away from this house alive, much as she knew that she didn't have the strength right now to so much as raise a hand against him. He had made sure of that.
"My body is mine, Fuuma," she growled, her voice her only defense and so she chose to use it, as she had before. "You can't take it away from me. No matter what you do to me –"
"What about your Kamui-chan, then?" Fuuma asked, standing and walking slowly towards them. "What about what I do to him?"
One hand cradled Kamui's chin carefully between long fingers. Kamui blinked, suddenly frozen in place, his body like a statue beside her and his eyes wide with fear. And that was it.
Let him do what he would with her, but the second he touched Kamui –
"If you value that hand, Fuuma, you'd better move it," Nibai said lowly, sliding out of Kamui's grasp, fire beyond her imaginings shooting through her entire body as she moved, her limbs shrieking in protest as she felt that each second she remained standing on her own was a miracle.
Protect Kamui…
She would not let Fuuma have Kamui. She would not, she would protect Kamui with her last ounce of strength, until her last breath –
She cupped her hands before her, closing her eyes to the scene before her, but it seemed etched onto her eyelids and all she could see was Kamui, caught like a deer in the headlights, and she wanted to protect him…
Her hands felt odd and hot, then all of her, then the room seemed to freeze in time, and she dared to open her eyes.
"A kekkai," Fuuma said, and suddenly he'd let go of Kamui and stood back, grinning as he watched the color drain from the room, breathing in the suddenly stale air. "How cute. You plan to fight me? You won't last a minute, Nibai-chan. Come now, be reasonable."
And Kamui suddenly seemed to have found his voice, and his muscles suddenly responded as he took a defensive stance beside Nibai.
"I'll last more than a minute," he growled, even as Nibai was too exhausted to feel relief. She was too exhausted to feel pain, it seemed, as suddenly her last shred of energy seemed to disappear from her body and she crumpled to the ground, her vision going cloudy around the edges as her lungs suddenly seemed to fill with thick, heavy air and every breath became a struggle as she had never known.
But still the kekkai remained intact. And then Kamui struck.
Tiny pieces of the ceiling began raining down around them as he lashed out at Fuuma, who easily countered and struck back. Kamui fended off much of the returned blow, then struck again, as she could do nothing more than watch and try to hold onto whatever consciousness she had left.
Fuuma was thoroughly enjoying himself, that much was clear, and his laughter only seemed to fuel Kamui's anger further, until he was striking again and again, heedless of anything but Fuuma before him.
"You know, I'd appreciate it if we ended this before I was out of a home," Fuuma finally said, blocking a blow easily. "Much as I'd love to beat your tight little ass into the ground, Kamui-chan, we need to end this now or you'll pay for a new house."
As a ball of energy began to grow in Fuuma's hands, and she saw something dark flash across Kamui's face before he said, "This isn't your house because you're not Fuuma."
And he let loose with his own energy, actually succeeding in knocking Fuuma into – and through – the wall of Kotori's room. The air was thick with plaster and dust; Nibai coughed as the air became harder to breathe, trying to concentrate on Kamui, who was keeping on his guard, watching for Fuuma in the clearing air.
And found that Fuuma wasn't there.
"Damn it!" He pounded one fist into what was left of the wall, even as she began to choke, dust filling her lungs and her vision fading in and out, the pain suddenly back with a vengeance as she felt her concentration slipping.
Kamui started and looked over at her – and suddenly seemed to realize what was going on, as he bounded over to her.
"Take the kekkai down!" he screamed at her, bending down over her even as the kekkai collapsed back onto her and she fell over, too dizzy to remain even sitting upright any longer, breath still coming in ragged gasps, and the world shimmered once, then solidified around them, undamaged.
"Come on," he said, dragging her bodily up, her skin screaming in pain at the contact. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders again and stumbled out into the hall towards the door, and she heard him breathing beside her, and she knew that she could fall now, and that maybe when she woke up, things would be a little better than they were now.
So she gave in, and fell.
