Welcome back. After the Watari bits, we go back to Tatsumi, and the next couple of chapters are going to deal with his past. I want to thank Theria.net for some of the information and Mainframe from gentlemen_prefer_blondes for more insight. I made up some names, though, so if anybody happens to know anything, go ahead and correct me now before I end up calling somebody by the wrong name for the rest of the fic. See you at the end.
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003 bit back an owlish sigh as she stood on the counter, watching her master hold back his own hair as he vomited into the laboratory sink. Watari had made himself physically sick worrying over Tatsumi, his face devoid of all color, eyes lacking their usual sparkle. The young man rinsed out his mouth and splashed cold water on his face, wiping it on the hem of his labcoat. He turned to 003 and forced himself to smile, to try and reassure her that he was all right. She knew he was lying to her.
The double doors parted hesitantly and Wakaba stepped in, looking more timid than usual. Generally she would skip in smiling, ready to gossip with her scientist friend, but today she walked with a more somber air. Watari noticed her, putting on another false smile.
"Wakaba! Welcome back. How did your mission go?" he chatted amicably.
She bit her lip. "It was all right…Watari, Hajime and I…well, we know what happened…about Mr. Tatsumi. And if there's anything I could do, please, go right ahead and ask, I'll do anything you want."
"Actually, Wakaba, there was one thing," Watari replied, his tone darkening. "I need you to send a dispatch to GenSouKai, tell everyone there what's happened, down to the last Shikigami."
The girl looked puzzled, her dual-colored eyes inquisitive. "Why?"
"Because…" the blonde man took a deep, steadying breath. "Because Muraki is behind this, I know he is. And if I can't save Tatsumi, if I can't slow Muraki down even a little bit, he'll come here and kill every last one of you. The Shikigami need to be prepared to go into battle in case I fail."
"Watari, are you really going to fight Muraki alone?"
"I have to. Tsuzuki thinks I'm crazy for wanting to but…Wakaba, he doesn't know. He doesn't know what I'm going through. It doesn't even compare in the smallest bit to what happened to Bon. I can taste Tatsumi's blood in my mouth; hear him crying out in pain. He's alone, and he's frightened and I can't bear to think that that bastard Muraki has his filthy hands on him. Muraki's ruined enough lives already, he won't have mine, and damned if I let him have Tatsumi's either."
The young girl smiled, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss the scientist's cheek. "You're a good man, Watari. Mr. Tatsumi is lucky to be loved by somebody as sweet as you. I'll have all of GenSouKai put on alert within the hour, and Hajime and I will be standing by if you need us too."
"Thanks, Wakaba. That means a lot to me."
She nodded, rubbing 003's feathers as she headed towards the door again. "We're a family. We all have to watch out for one another."
Watari sighed, removing his glasses so he could bury his face in his hands. He knew very well he stood no chance against Muraki, his ability to bring life to the lifeless seemingly paltry compared to the terrible and dark magic the wicked doctor possessed. But the more Watari thought about it, the more it seemed that his somewhat useless talent might be the thing he needed to give him the upper hand in the ensuing fight. He just prayed that his speculations were correct, and that he would not be proved wrong in the eleventh hour. Not when Tatsumi's very existence was at stake.
"Hold on, Tatsumi. It'll all be over soon, I promise, love. I'll be there soon, just hold on."
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Tatsumi was home, his real home, his mother's family's estate, as cold and pristine as it had been when he'd lived. It wasn't until he'd seen the tiny boy in his cornflower blue yukata that he realized that he was reliving a memory, one of his own, only this time as an outsider, a spectator. The little boy was himself, a tiny Seiichiro probably only a year old, tottering as he stood on unsteady and pigeon-toed feet. He watched the infant struggling to walk, the littler Seiichiro stumbling, falling face-first onto the impeccably clean wood floors. The boy's brilliant blue eyes welled up with tears and he began to bawl, more startled than injured.
He remembered it as the day his mother and father had brought him from their home in the country to be introduced to his mother's family. It would have been an insignificant memory to Tatsumi had he not seen his family members walking right past the baby sprawled on the floor, completely ignoring his cries. Aunts, uncles, cousins, all heedless of Seiichiro, his little face red and scrunched up, nose running as he howled. They all stared at him, hurrying into corners and doorways to whisper to one another, cruel eyes fixed on the child. Tatsumi could hear every word they uttered.
"It's a shame, really. A good strong family like the Shikano clan, begetting such a terrible little creature as that one, an absolute abomination."
"Blue eyes. What a terrible disgrace."
"It was bad enough that Mayune eloped with a dirty, low-caste common husband, but she's come back to see her family with no money, practically living in a hut and eating squirrels to survive…and that disgusting little child! She should have left him on a mountainside to freeze to death or be eaten by wild boars."
"That boy will never bring honor to his family. They should hope he falls ill and dies, or is run down by a cart. Then they can try again, have a more respectable child."
Tatsumi was sickened. His own family, wishing for his death, an infant who'd done no wrong but breathe. And as horrible as it was to recall, he knew that Muraki had not tampered with his memories, trying to poison them. These were true. He'd been a child unwanted, all for his blue eyes, the taint of European blood, his father's common blood mingled with the blood of nobility.
"I am no abomination," Tatsumi stated firmly, watching as his younger self picked himself off the floor and started toddling across the room, standing near to where Tatsumi stood as well. "You're all wrong." He glared at the chorus of relations, who regarded one of their own as worthless, and for a moment, it seemed as though they saw him, the same little Seiichiro they had cast out. Only now they were looking at the man he'd become, strong, intelligent, and handsome. Twenty-nine years old and capable of standing on his own two feet. But as quickly as they'd come the glimpses of admiration had passed, the disparaging looks replacing them. The crowd then suddenly parted as Mayune Tatsumi, his beautiful mother, swept across the floor and knelt to embrace her infant son.
"Pay them no heed, little Seii," she murmured in his ear. "My beautiful baby boy. Mama will always love you, my son, my precious treasure."
Tatsumi felt his heart shatter and his soul groan in agony. Blood swam before his eyes, pools of it, staining his hands, his clothes. His own screams reverberated in his ears, cries for the mother he'd loved and sworn to protect. No, he couldn't remember that day. He'd spent all of his life and his afterlife trying to forget it, if there was a merciful god he wouldn't have to relive that horrible day. Gingerly, his hand crushed even in the scope of his mind, he wrapped his arms about himself, feeling his dark memories long since repressed crowding around him, and he was claustrophobic.
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Notes: I'm trying for accuracy for Tatsumi's past, but bear in mind, there isn't much known about it, so I'm still just making a guess about it. My interpretation might clash with another author's, but still, they're interpretations. Unless Yoko Matsushita comes out and says "this is exactly what happened to Tatsumi as a kid" we know pretty much nothing. Poor Tatsumi…