Notes: I have to apologize for the shortness of this chapter... as well as the
evil cliffhanger of doom. If I say the next chapter
will be citrus, will that make it any better? Or no,
probably not. ;
Subaru, unable to force himself back to sleep so early in the evening, figured he needed a smoke. He had been trying to quit because it reminded him of Seishirou, but now he wanted the familiar dusky, acidic smell and taste of a cigarette between his lips.
Somehow or another, it all came back to Seishirou-san. Subaru never would really forget him; the man was as much a part of his soul as his deepest feelings, as much a part of his body as his sight, as much a part of his daily life as his profession. Seishirou was always in everything he did, everything he was. Subaru lit a cigarette with steady hands and leaned against the railing outside his apartment. It was raining.
He hadn't noticed Fuuma inside the apartment, but he hadn't looked for him either. Being around the boy was something he couldn't take right now. He wasn't sure how much longer living with this kid would be a good idea.
He drew heavily on the cigarette, closing his eyes.
A tiny voice told him that Fuuma's presence wasn't entirely unwelcome. Subaru hadn't genuinely smiled, let alone joked, with anyone since Hokuto's death, he hadn't really spoken to a person casually since Kamui's. This past month, he'd felt strangely good.
Fuuma made sure he ate regularly, much like Hokuto had. He wasn't much of a cook, but caloric intake, a foreign concept to the Sumeragi, wasn't lost on Fuuma. The truth was, Subaru hadn't felt nearly as healthy in a decade. The grateful part of him knew he owed at least something to the boy.
He stubbed out the filter.
One week. He'd give it one week in case Fuuma had another episode. If not, he was on his own, and that would be better for both of them.
Subaru found a banana in the kitchen and returned to his bedroom. If anything would help him get his mind off of the current situation, it would be translation work. After a few minutes, he wouldn't even be aware of the time. He settled into a comfortable position and unrolled the scroll.
--
As it happened, elder brother Akimoto thought he cold seal restless spirits and organically decompose them over time. He believed this method would eliminate evil, rather than relocating it, more effectively disposing of black energies. When he came to me to confide the method he believed would revolutionize the practice of Onmyoujyutsu, he believed he would be remembered and honored as much as the Sumeragi leader who would participate in the Fate of the World, so much was his ambition.
He planned to cleanse the world of anxious spirits in the most beautiful and serene way he could conceive, so he planted the blood red seed of one cherry into the ground and granted it the power to absorb spiritual energy.
When he informed me of these preparations, I warned him of the danger of such an act: no human soul can be successfully removed from the world unless it is fully released and sent to the beyond. But my elder brother disagreed; the greatness of both his folly and ambition rendered him completely blind to the misconceptions in his work. He refused to listen to reason, refused to work along the principles and teachings set forth by our ancestors, and we grew further apart with each passing month.
During the winter of this past year, I visited my twin brother, the leader of the Onmyouji clan, and his perverse creation, the soul-consuming tree. My intent was to make amends, but as it often happens, the outcome of our meeting was quite the opposite of what we each intended.
As I had expected, the unnatural Sakura Tree began to rely on a steady supply of spiritual energy and human souls; the retention device began demanding victims. It had grown to a grotesque size in just weeks. My elder brother seemed profoundly disturbed when I found him, perched in the branches of his creation. He insisted the Tree demanded blood from him.
I attempted to reason with him once again, but my entreaties fell on deaf ears. He was scarcely aware of himself; the brother I had once loved was gone and would not return. In the twelfth month of the Eleventh Year of the Edo Bakufu, under crimson branches, I, Sumeragi Senkari, overtook my brother as the leader of the Onmyouji clan, and my brother Akimoto became first Guardian of the Sakura Burial Mound.
--
It was after three in the morning when Subaru finally shifted position on the floor. He wiggled a little numbness from his toes, and standing, recognized a twinge in his stomach he identified as hunger. He padded to the kitchen to see what kinds of things Fuuma had picked up from the store.
Ramen cups, Little Debbie snack rolls, frozen pizza, frosted flakes, ice cream sandwich bars, diet cola…. and none of it looked remotely appetizing. He finally settled on an ice cream sandwich and a can of diet coke, wondering where Fuuma learned the concept of "nutrition" he seemed so enthusiastic about.
Since he wasn't sure how to handle the inevitable awkward situation with Fuuma, he was fairly glad not to have seen him all evening. Subaru knew he would have to eventually accept the fact that Seishirou-san was gone, and wouldn't be coming back.
Suddenly, Subaru was jarred from his thoughts by a fist colliding with his front door. Judging by the intensity and speed, and not to mention the time of night, it was probably fairly urgent.
Subaru sucked the last bit of ice cream from his thumb and answered the door.
He opened it to a very wet, very intimidating Fuuma. Cliché as it was, a crash of thunder punctuated his slow, smirking greeting. "Hello, Subaru."
Subaru sighed. "Oh, it's just you, Fuuma." He turned from the door, not really wanting a conversation with the boy right now. "Let me get you a towel. Don't you have a key?"
"You're wrong… on both counts." He slipped an arm around Subaru's slender torso from behind. "You can call me Kamui," came a throaty whisper near his ear.
Subaru looked down, and a sarcastic part of his brain noted that it was a good thing he knew good tricks to get blood stains out from clothing. This was likely the last thing he should be concerned about. Fuuma's hand was covered with thick, drying blood, and some of it was now on his favorite white t-shirt.
"Which kekkai was it this time?" Struggling would be no good, but perhaps if he bought a little time…
"No kekkai, just a few loose ends." The smirk was bigger than ever, judging by the sound of his voice.
"Were they Dragons of Heaven or Earth?" Subaru felt very sick.
"A Windmaster, a Miko, an Environmentalist… so I guess you could say a mixed bag," he chuckled. "There are still a few worth taking care of… You, for instance."
"You mean to kill me?"
"Actually, I'm thinking I won't have to. You're very amusing, you know." He flipped Subaru around, still holding him closely. He ran a single finger ran down ivory cheek, staining it crimson. "Subaru-kun," he mumbled, closely emulating another rich tenor. "I'm hoping you would kill me instead."