Series: Tokyo Babylon, before the first tankubon.
Disclaimer: CLAMP owns Tokyo Babylon, I don't. Sadness.
Notes: I haven't written on this in a while... Papers have devoured my life. Yay. Seishirou's not his usual suave self, Subaru's got a personal problem I feel bad for exploiting, and Hokuto's making an outfit we all know... Eh-heh.
And be warned, this part doesn't have an ending. I planned to make seven chapters in all (ending with a shikigami and a train station), but it really depends on how these guys react together. It may be anywhere between 7 and 10, because I might not be able to squeeze in the plot elements I want with only two chapters to go... previous chapters are linked to in the link in my profile. Haha.



What Dreams May Come - Chapter 5



Physically, Seishirou had the signs of anxiety: sweating palms, jitteriness, and lack of focus. His patrons at the clinic were concerned for his health, the annoying little girls kept asking, over and over, "Seishirou-sensei, daijoubu?"

He just grinned and affirmed his wellbeing, perhaps only to himself.

It seemed his careful strategy wasn't going as he planned.

Well, in a certain light, it was going exactly as planned. He'd met Subaru, coaxed him into security, and then had Subaru practically aching for sex, sitting between his legs and looking flushed and delicious. He licked his lips.

Really, that's what he'd been planning from the start, wasn't it?

Now that the last of the patrons had gone, he let his mind slowly reanalyze the image of Subaru, spending sufficient time to appreciate the creature of beauty that was his, his own, and only his. He decided that yes, this was what he wanted. The purpose of visiting was to discover how to bed Subaru in the shortest possible timeframe. To put it very, very bluntly, to discover the weak spots in Subaru's wall of defense. And if he could exploit them later, all the better.

Wasn't it?

Because obviously, something made him to drop his pretty toy before anything began. Chik'shou. What the hell was I thinking?

He could have satisfied his craving, but he didn't, and his body still ached from being denied… What the hell was wrong with him? Something was misplaced, but he didn't know what it was, and that made him… uncomfortable.

Perhaps a more accurate term is 'afraid', but anyone who called him that would soon have found himself on the wrong end of the food chain.

He glared. What fun is a hunt if the prey doesn't fear? There meeting lacked tension. True, if the prey doesn't act the part, the hunter is just an old man in goofy-looking flannel. If Subaru had resisted, the game would have been much more amusing.

The right physical touch would make anybody lust, including his pretty Subaru. If he thought Seishirou found him sexy enough, a little touch would go quite a long way… He could reduce Subaru to a puddle of lust-claimed goo if he wanted to, but what would that mean? Only that Subaru was a teenager and susceptible to hormone-induced frenzies… He glared again. This wasn't any new piece of information.

He was uncomfortable with the fact that Subaru was …willing.

No, more than willing: Subaru was trusting him.

The boy was so naïve it made Seishirou sick. Perhaps the clan head had a vague impression of "Sakurazukamori", like children are afraid of the boogieman and the dark. And if Subaru weren't a total imbecile, he would have recognized by now that he, Seishirou, was the bad guy the Sumeragi clan loved to hate.

Most interesting.

Subaru was either naïve or brain-dead.

He slammed the door on his way out; the sudden noise scared his animals.


---

The table was bare, save for a slip of paper.

"Going shopping for fabric and accessories!! Make sure you eat the yummy lunch I left you. You don't have work today, so if you feel like it later, go visit the cute kittens at the clinic! I'm sure they'd love to see you.
-- Onee-sama"

She sounded excited, and really, she was ecstatic to be going shopping. She was certain that Subaru could take care of himself for an afternoon, and she knew he'd be cheered up by a new outfit.

She couldn't contain her excitement!

She was standing on the subway seat and yelling aloud to all those who cared to hear. "That's what he needs! Bright colors and a bold, striking, flattering design a la Hokuto-sama's creations! Ooo-ho-ho-ho-ho!!" She punctuated her exclamation with a fist in the air.

Companions in her small subway car either politely pretended to ignore her or smiled cautiously at her thoughtfulness, and Hokuto, satisfied with her performance, stepped down and resumed musing.

She wondered, what would be an appropriate theme? Subaru's green eyes had been the focus of many, many of her past ensembles. He owned kelly-green jackets, emerald-green shirts, forest-green hats, tree-green blazers… Green was a cliché already. A yellow would wash out Subaru's ivory complexion. Purple… royal purple might not be too bad, but Subaru's current slump begged something much more cheerful and striking. Something like red.

Aha! Vibrant wine red.

She practically bounced into the fabric store, drunk on inspiration. "Obaaa-sama ohaaaayo gozaimashita!!" The softly wrinkled store owner waved hello to her favorite customer.

"Ara! Hokuto-chan, back so soon?"

"Haaaii!" Her eyes practically glittered with excitement.

"What wonderful outfit do you have in mind for your otouto this time? You look so excited." She folded the last bolt and placed it on the shelf. "Something special, isn't it?" Hokuto grabbed a chair to thoroughly and hastily fill her in on the details.

Her friend the patient owner contemplated each item, forming a mental picture of the design, marveling only slightly at the girl's eye for fashion. Some might call her style extreme, but Hokuto always softened the loud elements with something that kept it almost within everyday standards. Really, it was inspired. The store owner was used to the rapid-fire "Hokuto list", and didn't miss a beat.

"…and so I need some kind of vinyl or leather, two and a half yards of glossy if you have it, and about eight yards of the red, plus some 2" ribbon and do you have a black zipper that won't show on the vinyl?" The owner barely blinked. In the rhythm of the conversation, she offered a small alteration to the materials list.

"Oh, but if his measurements haven't changed, you need three of the black, right?"

Hokuto was silenced. Her vocal train of thought was cut abruptly. The heavy silence hung like something alive, waiting to pounce. She looked up into her elder friend's eyes, and forced herself to whisper, almost inaudibly "two and a half yards, please." The pained expression in Hokuto's eyes confirmed it. Subaru had lost weight. Since Hokuto blamed herself for not taking care of him, she blushed, ashamed.

But she shook herself and smiled broadly, if only for appearances.

"So," she began again, "so you have the black leather in stock? I'd really like to get started on this as soon as possible! He needs another outfit for the season, and it'd cheer him up more than anything!"

It took only half an hour, and the two of them managed to find everything Hokuto wanted, including a brimmed black hat. Hokuto nearly squealed when she saw it. "This would be so cute on him! I'll make him wear it every day. Wow, I'm getting started as soon as I get home!"

Even before she cleared away the last of her creations' messes, most likely. Hokuto was quite glad for her apartment space; she had turned it into a home studio without worrying about taking over her brother's living space. It was her getaway, her creative sphere. Dress dolls lined the hallway, and her breakfast table had turned into a permanent sewing machine table. Her fridge was stocked with bobbins of thread, her oven wouldn't close for all the patterns she'd filed. That's why she always ended up cooking at Subaru's.

---

For his part, Subaru stayed in bed all morning. He felt sick. Worn out. Discomforted. Unstable. Nauseous… He was too tired to do more than stare at the ceiling and come up with adjectives for how he felt. Dreading-ness. Ominous-ized. Threaten-ed. Accosted-ness...? He was making up words, too. He sighed, dejectedly.

Should I get up..?

He rose to stand, and the answer hit him. No. Absolutely not. He flumped back down on his floor futon, defeated by the simple movement.

His head hurt. No, that was an understatement.

Subaru was familiar with the symptoms of backlash - the pounding head, upset stomach, sensitivity to light - but this was different. It was almost as if he were experiencing… feedback?

Feedback was a more vicious problem for onmyouji than backlash. If you hold a microphone to its speaker, the energy gets worse and worse until it's unbearable… or the speaker breaks.

Magical feedback was the same kind of thing. Magic resonates through all living things, and sometimes it happened by accident, but if two people whose aura/latent magic were almost compatible, but not quite, got in close contact, they would become anxious and violent. Sometimes you just "don't like the way that guy looks". It's threatening and unsettling, and people sometimes resort to violence to stop the feedback. The tension rises until it's unbearable, or one of them breaks. The feedback phenomenon is found music too: notes that are played not quite in tune are unbearably painful. Take that effect to three orders of magnitude, and it's a similar kind of problem… But the intensity spirals out of control.

Ouch, too much thinking for so early in the morning. He looked at the clock. Or early afternoon... Ugh.

He didn't have the patience to wonder why he felt so overwhelmed, why he suddenly had to deal with feedback… A quick self-check revealed that he was sore all over. Everywhere. His head was sore from the feedback, but his legs were sore, his neck was sore, and… oh hell… there was dull, aching pain in his most sensitive area. It was worse than a cramp, more like a powerful stomach ache or toothache. It was taking the edge off of his concentration. He wanted to cry, but the pain was too low and steady for tears to come. He rolled on to his side into the fetal position, closing himself off from any extra stimulus. He wanted to sleep it off, but the thought came to him that he hadn't slept well in nearly a month now. His own dreams scared him, even if he couldn't remember them vividly. He realized he needed to get up if he ever wanted to feel better. He needed some water; sleeping and dehydration don't mix well.

The coves slid back against his pajama-clad legs and he carefully swung himself around to stand, brushing hair out of his eyes with his hand.

It really was too bright outside.

Subaru absently mused. What I need is something to shade the windows, like mini-blinds or a large tree… The images assaulted his abused brain. Oh hell.

Subaru threw up.


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