Galatea
Fifth Movement: In Sickness and In Health
"We never forgive those who make us blush."
Jean-François De La Harpe
It was still early enough in the day when Daisuke trudged through the front door and into the living room that Emiko hadn't had time to set up his training gauntlet. For the first time in a long while he was able to escape up to his room without any life-threatening devices being deployed against him.
Upon hearing the front door open and shut, and knowing that Kosuke was already here and that her father and Towa weren't due back for another hour or so at least, Emiko frowned at the clock on the kitchen wall and picked up a towel to dry her dishpan hands. She stuck her head into the living room and glanced about, just in time to catch Daisuke starting up the steps.
"Dai-chan?" she called after him, hands on her hips, "Just what are you doing home so early?" He ignored her query, continuing on up the steps in a somber manner. "Wai—Niwa Daisuke! Don't ignore me, young man!" She heard another door slam at the top of the stairs, and silently seethed. What was that boy's problem today?
He and Dark had both been acting strange ever since they'd come back from their job the night before. The thief, usually hard-pressed for any sort of challenge when he went out, had come home dragging his feet and looking quite the worse for wear—even With seemed worn out. When she'd pressed him for details as to his physical state, he'd waved her off with a muffled, "Talk…morning…sleep…" and almost immediately released his hold on his Tamer's body, leaving him to collapse in the middle of the living room. Emiko had just smiled, proud of her son and Dark as usual, and carried him up to his bed, tucking him in with a soft, "Night, Dai-chan…" Then this morning, because he'd been so tired, she didn't wake him up at his usual time, instead letting him get a few minutes of extra sleep, resulting in the poor boy being late. Ah well, she'd tried to help.
So what was the meaning of this behavior of his? Just because he'd had a hard night, it didn't give him any reason to be so moody! She tossed the dishtowel back onto the counter by the sink and stomped off to find her husband.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
The worried parents were granted no reply from inside their son's room, and Kosuke and Emiko exchanged unsettled glances. "Dai-chan?" she tried again, to no avail, and it was at this point that Kosuke slowly turned the handle and eased the door open a bit, poking his head inside, with his wife hovering just behind him shooing him forward.
"Go away, Mom…" a muffled voice begged, and two gazes were drawn over to the small couch near the window, upon which their son was sprawled out, face buried in a pillow. "I don't wanna talk right now…I've got a headache…"
Emiko, as she was wont to do, pursed her lips in a thin line and crinkled her eyebrows in indignation. Kosuke, as he was wont to do, simply regarded his son in silence and tried to make what he could of the uncharacteristic behavior. It wasn't like him to be so abrupt with Emiko—even when she meddled more than her son felt was necessary in his life. He'd always borne her prodding with grace, but today was a completely different story.
Perhaps something had happened with Riku—Daisuke was still working out how to juggle his social life and family curse; these things happened. Kids got into petty squabbles with each other, and within a day or so they were friends again. Daisuke was that kind of boy, one whom it was impossible to stay mad at for more than a few hours.
"Niwa Daisuke, look at me, young man. What's wrong with you?" No response. "Home hours early from school, and you storm up to your room without even a 'Hello! I'm home!' for your mother!" Her tone was waxing more motherly and worried than mad as she'd meant it to be, and this finally roused the boy to answer.
Pulling the pillow away, he looked up at her with big red eyes, and she gave a soft gasp when she took in his face: His hair was a disheveled mess, there was dirt on his forehead and cheeks, and a thin line of dried blood snaked its way down to his chin from one corner of his mouth. When he noticed her reaction, he hastily looked away and began fiddling with the edging on the pillow.
She quickly stepped over to him, squatting down and smoothing back his hair to survey the damage. "What…is the meaning of this?" He jerked away from her touch as if he'd been shocked. "Yes I imagine it does hurt—now answer me!"
"…I got into a fight at school…I think I'm suspended for a week…I didn't stick around to hear my punishment…"
Eyes widening in absolute shock, Emiko had to steady herself as she stood back up, Kosuke dashing over to help here, "You…you WHAT?!" She didn't wait for a response, and launched into a flood of questions, "A FIGHT? Today?! WHY?! What has gotten into you? You could have hurt your opponent!"
At this last comment, Daisuke's head snapped back over to look at his mother, confusion evident in his features—it was just like her to say something like that.
"All that training we've been giving you was not for some—some schoolyard tussle so you could show off! You might have—"
"I wasn't showing off!" he shot back, eyes narrowed.
Emiko regarded this for a moment, "…So you lost?!" Daisuke wanted to bang his head against something very hard at that moment, but then remembered how much it was aching already and decided against it.
"No, I didn't lose." Instead of relaxing his mother, this only served to make her frown even more. "I mean—it didn't get that far. Some teachers stopped us. And he wasn't hurt, at least…at least not any more than I am…" At this point, he seemed to regain his interest in the pillow edging and began picking at it again, not looking up at the angry dark eyes glaring down at him.
"Then you must not have put up much of a fight! I've done studies on all your classmates, you realize—and not one of them would come even close to being able to best you in a fight." Was his mother always this insane, or did it just show in situations where family pride was on the line? "Except for maybe that Hikari bo—"
She stopped herself in the middle of her sentence and brought a hand up to her mouth. "…Oh…you didn't, Daisuke…please tell me you didn't…" Her son's response was to bury his head in the pillow again. "…You mean to say you fought…in public…our three-hundred-year underground feud?! Niwa Daisuke, have we not taught you better than that?!"
"But—he was—!"
She held up a hand, "I don't want to hear it! I can't imagine what might possible encourage you to stoop to his level!"
Growing defensive, Daisuke shot back, "It was as much his fault as it was mine! It takes two people to have a fight, you know!"
This comment, though, only served to set his mother on a new line of attack—one now directed at Satoshi, "I knew we should have separated you two more! I always felt it was a mistake not pulling you out when I saw his name on the class roster this year; you would've done so well without distractions at that private school on the other side of town." She clenched her hands into little fists, "Oh, I just knew he'd make a move on you one of these days! That clan never fights fairly!"
Daisuke frowned, conflicted emotions swirling inside his mind. Half of him wanted to join in ranting with his mother—he was still upset with Hiwatari-kun—yet the other half desperately wanted to set the record straight, revealing their earlier bet and the fact that, after the previous week, there was very little chance Satoshi would be "making a move" on him.
"I've a good mind to pull you out right now since this has happened! Apparently he's gotten over whatever moral issues he'd had with attacking you at school—who knows what he could try next! They've never been big on keeping our feud a secret, even setting up that Academy of theirs in the north just so they could bring others to their side. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if you sat down in your chair Monday morning and—"
"Mom, I got suspended. I'm not going Monday—one of the teachers said the principal would call and confirm later this afternoon…"
As if suddenly remembering that there was still the matter of punishment awaiting her son, Emiko shot off on a new tangent. "And suspended! I can't believe that! Oh you can rest assured there'll be a nice new training regimen waiting for you tonight—I want all your previous times cut by half at least! That way next time, you'll either think twice before raising your fist at school, or finish soon enough that you won't get caught!" She blinked a few times, "…But, by the way…what exactly did he do to you to get you so riled up?"
The boy had never uttered a cross word about his rival before, no matter how much Emiko prodded him to be wary of the Hikari child. He would always laugh and brush it off, reminding her that "Hiwatari-kun" was his friend, that he'd never hurt him intentionally. Well this fight certainly seemed to her like that brat had been trying to hurt her baby—so what could have set it off?
Daisuke, it seemed, was loath to reveal this. "…I'd rather not talk about it…" The last thing he needed was his mother worrying even more about his and Dark's job. If she knew that Hiwatari-kun was going to be letting Krad out all the time now, she'd make him take far too many precautions—and truthfully, he just didn't care about that right now. Dark had kept him safe before; he fully trusted his partner to continue the same way.
"This isn't something that's open for discussion! Now, given that you've never spoken a cross word about this boy before, I'd wager it was something quite important, so fess up! Let's have it! What possessed you to bring to the surface our secr—"
"Emiko-san," Kosuke interrupted softly, laying a hand on her shoulder, and she frowned as she turned to him, "Why don't…why don't I talk to him for a few, alright?" His wife clearly objected to this, but before she could voice her displeasure, he jumped back in with a request, "I'm getting a craving for some warm tea—would you mind?" Frown deepening, she finally gave in and retreated, leaving the two men alone.
After he heard the door shut, Daisuke looked up from his pillow into his father's eyes, and followed him with hiss gaze as the man came and took a seat on the couch next to him.
A moment passed in silence, and Kosuke felt his son was waiting for him to start the conversation—he needed a less…noisy approach, it seemed. "So…how is he doing?" Daisuke's eyebrows pulled together in confusion as to just who "he" was. "Hiwatari Satoshi-kun, I mean. Aside from…your fight today, has he been doing well?"
Daisuke frowned at this, but not like he'd frowned when Emiko had questioned him—he looked like a small child, pouting about something not going his way, "…Looks as if he's doing just fine to me." He clutched the pillow close and settled his head on it. "Getting along quite nicely with his curse…"
Kosuke's eyes widened a bit, and he settled back into the cushions, arms crossed over his chest and a knowing smile playing on his lips. So that's what this was all about. "I see…so, I take it Satoshi-kun has…not been fighting his curse as much lately?" Though he still understood precious little of the nature of the Hikari boy and his curse, he understood quite well that the child didn't share the same relationship his own son and curse did. When Daisuke gave him no positive or negative response, he tested, "…This wouldn't have anything to do with last night's job, now would it?"
"N-no!" came the swift reply, and Daisuke flushed, embarrassed at being caught, "Well…yeah…it has everything to do with it, actually…"
"How so?" It was apparent it was going to take a bit more nudging. "Come on, Daisuke…if you don't talk about it, how can I hel—"
"Do you have any idea what happened last night, Dad?" the boy erupted, "Do you know what he did? He let KRAD out on US! On Dark—on me! On ME!" He tossed the pillow away and jumped to his feet, pacing angrily. "He didn't even fight it! Just let him out to do whatever he wanted—which of course meant chasing Dark around and attacking us at every opportunity!" He stopped pacing and stared at his father, eyes quivering in anger. "And you know what? When I went to talk to him about it this morning, do you know what he said to me?
"That he was sorry if I got hurt, but that it was Dark's fault and not his! That he couldn't order Dark to stop stealing, so I couldn't order Krad to stop trying to kill me! And that—that—" He took a deep breath, "That every time Dark goes out on a job, he was going to let Krad be there to try and stop him—Every. Single. Time."
Kosuke let his son calm down, rage petering out in the silence, before calmly asking, "…So the fact that Satoshi-kun seems to be getting along with his curse now worries you, is that it?"
Daisuke shook his head, "Dad, he's not getting along with that monster. He's being—tricked, or led on, or something that I know is a bad idea! And of course I'm worried, they're trying to kill me!" He conveniently left out the fact that Satoshi had promised that he would not allow Krad to kill him as per their agreement. The fact remained that there was pain involved and Satoshi didn't intend to stop it.
"Well…what about Dark? Surely he's not having problems with this is he? Granted, he did look a bit worn out last night, but then—it's been a while since he's seriously fought Krad this incarnation. They've been fighting for three hundred years…it's something he's well used to by now, I'd imagine." He took a closer look at his son and prodded, "…There isn't anything else, is there?"
Instinctively looking away, Daisuke began rubbing his arm distractedly, "Well, I just…I wouldn't have expected him to…to do something like this…to me…"
"And why not?" the father queried, "You are a Niwa, after all, like it or not. You're who he's been taught he's supposed to fight. Just because—"
"I know I'm who he's supposed to fight!" Daisuke was on the defensive again, and fisted his hands at his sides, "But he's the one who told me he loved me!"
There was a long pause that filled the room for a good full minute as Daisuke mentally kicked himself for the slip. Kosuke was frozen in place, eyes wide, as his son mumbled incoherently, "I—I mean…he…he just…he…crap…"
Slowly regaining his faculties of speech, Kosuke questioned, "Daisuke…Satoshi-kun really…" His son returned him a slow nod, and he sighed in frustration. "…When did this happen?"
"Almost two weeks ago…the same day I asked Riku-san to go with me to the annual art show downtown…I ran up to him and told him about it, and he…"
FLASHBACK"Ah, sorry—you probably aren't really interested in hearing something like that." The redhead scratched the back of his head in embarrassment and gave a soft laugh, "I didn't mean to bother you, Hiwatari-kun. I just really wanted to tell someone, and you were the only one who'd really understand how much it meant to me." He let his hand fall away and stared long and hard at the boy across from him, face softening into a genuine smile. "Thank you, Hiwatari-kun…you always understand what it means to me…you always understand me…" He spared a glance down at his watch and gave a little yelp. "Ah! Mom's gonna kill me if I'm late again!" Giving Satoshi a little wink, he waved goodbye and turned on his heel to dash out the school gate.
But before he could take a step away, a hand reached out to grab his, and a mangled sentence reached his ears in a short, breathless whisper, "…Ilikeyou."
Daisuke's smile fell away, and his eyebrows creased in confusion, not quite sure he'd heard correctly. "Hiwa…tari-kun…?"
Satoshi quickly dropped the hand he'd been holding onto and began rubbing his own together in a nervous habit. "I…I like you, Niwa Daisuke." A pause, "I think…I might love you." Something twitched behind his eye, and he reaffirmed, "I love you. I love you, Niwa."
Breath coming out in short pants, Daisuke struggled to quench the dryness that had blossomed in his mouth like raw cotton. Why…why…why was Hiwatari-kun telling him this? Weren't they supposed to hate each other? Weren't they supposed to fight each other? Daisuke had wanted to be friends, but Hiwatari-kun had always…Hiwatari-kun had never…
"I like seeing your smile." This somehow jolted the redhead from his shock, and forced him to focus on the task at hand rather than retreating into his mind where he might have been able to make some sense of the situation. It dawned on him that from his silence, Satoshi had assumed Daisuke required proof of the confessed love, and was obliging him. "It's…very warm, and friendly…and I don't get much of that usually. You make me feel like…like I can actually change something in my life…when you smile. I love…that you think I can change…when even I have trouble believing that myself."
Daisuke noted distantly that not once had Satoshi smiled throughout the whole confession, and then realized that this was probably because he was having to concentrate quite a lot on keeping his mental defenses up…on keeping Krad in.
Wait, that was…that was why…He'd changed into Dark because of his feelings for Risa, so had Hiwatari-kun changed…because of…
His stomach gave a sullen lurch, and he felt like he was about to fall down. "…N-Niwa…?" came a worried voice, and bit of emotion managed to leak into the Hikari boy's eyes.
Steadying himself, Daisuke took a deep breath, but couldn't bring himself to meet the same gaze that was looking upon him with such hope and fear and anticipation. Gods, it hurt to do this…how had Harada-san managed it?
"I'm…I'm sorry Hiwatari-kun, but I…I do like you!" He looked up, face betraying the turmoil tearing him up inside, "I do like you…but…not like that…not that way…not the way you like me…I like Riku-san…and I just can't hurt her like that…I'm—sorry!" With a burst of kaitou speed, he darted away through the school gate, his sneakers slapping loudly on the concrete sidewalk.
And Hiwatari Satoshi trudged over to a bench beneath a tree and sat. And sat.
END FLASHBACK
Well, it was now apparent to Kosuke that this situation between the Niwa and Hikari clans had just developed a whole new layer of problems. Satoshi-kun obviously had more to worry about than simply thwarting Dark or keeping Krad from killing anyone—after all, he was a fourteen-year-old boy. If Daisuke could have problems in his love life and still juggle a night job as a phantom thief, what was stopping Satoshi from doing the same thing?
"So…you're thinking that, perhaps…Satoshi-kun is doing this…to get back at you for rejecting him…"
Daisuke was horrified that his father would think such a thing of him, "Wha—no! No, I'd never think he'd stoop to—"
"Maybe not intentionally," Kosuke pacified, "But…I can see that there's more than your simply not trusting Krad—not that that isn't a factor as well." Daisuke closed his mouth, as he'd meant to argue just that. "You think that…just because he said that, he's supposed to automatically alter how he's treated you all this time…when nothing came of it in the first place except to make your relationship all the more awkward. Life doesn't work like that, Daisuke, I'm sorry. You can love someone…and still hurt them."
"But he—he's doing it on purpose!"
"He's tired of fighting it, Daisuke—who knows, maybe he's held Krad back all this time out of respect for you…and now that everything's different, he doesn't have the motivation to anymore. Maybe he did actually become a bit apathetic, seeing nothing could come of it, knowing he could never gain your favor. He's only human, son. I mean, if you had the kind of relationship with Dark like he has with Krad…wouldn't you get tired too?" Daisuke paused to consider this a moment.
"But," the father continued, "That doesn't mean he hates you, or he wants you to suffer. He's suffered enough already to know it isn't pleasant. He needs…help, Daisuke. Not a punch in the gut to bring him back to his senses. He needs someone there to talk to."
"I tried talking," Daisuke argued, then pointed to his swollen lip, "And I got this." He was pouting, still holding his ground, but deep down he knew his father was right, and this made it all the worse.
"Listen—there's really nothing you can do about Satoshi-kun. It's his body, his life…his decision on what to do with them. We can only be there to support him in whatever he chooses to do." He stood and placed his hand on his son's shoulder, "You need to apologize the next time you see him."
Daisuke frowned but nodded anyway, and Kosuke stepped past him and out the door.
"Oh, and one more thing," he called back, poking his head back inside, and Daisuke turned to him, "I don't know what else your mother's got planned, but as for me—you can start your punishment off by dusting and polishing all the works in the basement." He gave his son a wink and popped out the door.
Slipping back onto his couch with a moan, Daisuke covered his eyes and muttered, "Stupid Niwa clan…stupid Dark and Krad…stupid Hiwatari-kun…stupid me…"
"Stupid Hikari clan…stupid Dark and Krad…stupid Niwa…stupid me…" It was only now, behind the safety of thick walls and simulated solitude, that Satoshi realized how utterly foolish his actions had been. He'd been completely blinded by his irritation at Niwa's meddling, so much that he'd not even cared that their daytime feud had had quite an audience.
And what was more—suspended for a week! One of the teachers, Kaseda-sensei, had run after him as he left the school grounds and firmly reminded him that fighting was strictly dealt with at Azumano No. 2, and that he would be contacted that evening regarding disciplinary action. Satoshi had frowned, but given the matter no further thought—until now.
Unemployed, by choice—now unengaged during the day as well, by rash action. He cursed softly to himself and sank onto his living room couch, closing his eyes and sighing loudly. It seemed no matter how he tried to hide his emotions, he was from far too emotional a stock to keep them from leaking out when he could least help it. Niwa had an annoying ability to demolish every carefully erected barrier he had to contain his emotions, resulting in events like the earlier fight.
Krad merely regarded the whole affair silently—his Tamer was doing a perfectly good job berating himself, so the blonde saw no need to jump in with his own idle comments. And at the rate the boy was going, he didn't appear to be tiring of kicking himself any time soon.
Instead, he directed his thoughts inward, back to the emotions he'd sensed earlier. All through that fight, Satoshi had been in his usual "battle mode," but there was something else laced in his host's responses to the Niwa boy's both physical and mental attacks, something hidden, that perhaps Satoshi himself wasn't even aware of.
"No…there's something more…He's gotten to you…gotten his hooks in you, he's—"
"Shut up! You shut up about him!"Yes…there it was…that's where he'd sensed it…and oh how utterly delicious it had been, too. That wasn't the Satoshi he'd known for so many years, not the Satoshi who forever kept from his curse the grace of any emotional response save hatred. This was a desperate, breathy pseudo-plea, teetering precariously between a threat and a supplication. His host didn't ask, he simply took that which he wanted, or else dealt without, except for the rare occasion when something was so important to him that…
"…I'm going to ask you something, and I—I want you to answer me. Honestly."
There it was again. That tremor that echoed in his Tamer's bones and resonated in Krad's being as well, that delightful shuddering that spanned the Astral and physical planes…That was what he lived to feel…and what he wouldn't give to feel it again. The shiver his precious host gave off when he was cornered, vulnerable, all but begging…
Yes, it was going to be a very long week.
The first three days of his suspension passed in utter boredom for the Hikari boy, and he now found no excuse to avoid Saehara's favor any longer. The pages and pages of potential candidates' resumes begged to be perused, and at this point he was glad for some distraction from the coma-like state he'd slipped into after the fight with Niwa.
Satoshi coughed loudly for the fourth time in the past few minutes, leaning over his papers and rubbing his chest, with his eyes shut tight and nearly leaking tears as he heaved—an action, for once, not brought about by his curse clamoring to be released. He slumped back in his seat on the couch with eyes half-lidded with fatigue, and squinted as he stared at the laptop monitor on the coffee table to his left, reaching over to scroll through pages of data.
'Satoshi-sama…' Krad's voice rang clear and light inside his head, but was tainted with a tone of chiding, like an adult to a small child disobeying him, and the image that materialized before him frowned. Gritting his teeth, Satoshi tried his best to block the sound, 'Are you going to keep doing this to yourself? It's not—'
"Just—shut up. You're making my head hurt even more…" he growled, shaking his head to clear his mind. "As if you even care whether I'm sick or not—it's my body before it's yours, I'll treat it how I want." There was a short pause, and Krad moved to object again, but the boy just narrowed his eyes fiercely and snapped, "Go away! I'm trying to work here!"
Krad jerked back abruptly at the outburst as if he'd been shocked, though by now he was well used to his host's emotional states—particularly when he was clearly not in prime condition. In the wake of his recent retirement, he'd had to take on the full load of his paperwork for being let go from the police force since his father wasn't helping in the least. He now assumed almost full personal responsibility over his own affairs, and was intent on finding some loophole somewhere to give him legal right to dismiss himself. Saehara had offered to have a professional take care of the details, urging him to rest from the excitement, but to no avail. In any case, it served a suitable distraction.
Still, between tying things up with the police, the Niwas, and Dark, pulling a particularly late night the day before after being called back down to the station for more paperwork, he was mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. His head was throbbing painfully—something Krad knew well, as he could feel it echoing in his own consciousness—the boy's hand was still untreated, and his curse could sense the feverish heat Satoshi was giving off. In short, the Hikari host was quite ill, and was seemingly unwilling to do anything about it.
Well, desperate diseases require desperate remedies.
Krad backed off of his persuading, and nodded knowingly to himself, a tiny smile gracing his features as he faded from view. Satoshi barely looked up, and allowed himself to release a tentative breath, glad to finally be rid of the annoyance of having his curse watching him all the time and exhorting him to do something about his condition. It seemed, though, that he'd celebrated a bit too soon.
It wasn't a moment later that his head felt as if it was being hacked open from the inside, and he could feel the familiar tendrils of "Krad"-ness working their way into his mind, shoving Satoshi's own consciousness from control with hardly any effort whatsoever. So weak was the Hikari boy, though he refused to admit it, that he didn't even have the capabilities to properly fend off the attack and unwillingly shifted into the lanky build of his curse.
'Damn you…' a growl reverberated inside his mind in response to Krad's forceful overtaking of the body, and a simple smirk was the reply. 'Couldn't you just let me take care of myself—'
"I would be only too happy to do that, Satoshi-sama—" Krad interrupted in a lazy drawl, "—if you would take care of yourself. As it is—" He glanced down now at his hand and clenched it, nearly reopening the wound which had only just started to scar over from the few nights before, "It looks as if only I can be trusted with caring for our body."
'Let me back, NOW! Krad—I swear if you—'
"You think I came out for him?" He laughed lightly, soft tenor ringing through the living room, "Satoshi-sama, you wound me, truly. After all—what good is a dead host? I can't exactly carry out Hikari duty without a body, now can I? Those Niwas, for once, are not my top priority…I will be caring for you today—no fighting. On my honor as a Hikari."
Satoshi was silent for a moment—no doubt from his mental jaw being dropped in shock. 'You? Honor? Hardly! I have no reason to trust—'
"Yes, you have no reason—so why don't you be a good little boy and let me give you a reason to trust me, Satoshi-sama. I am Krad of the Hikari—I always keep my word…whether it's swearing to kill Dark or swearing to do nothing at all…
"Always, Satoshi-sama."
Another pause, and the reply came slowly, cold and measured. '…I will kill you some day…this I swear…and I keep my promises as well…'
Krad sighed low and pushed himself up off the couch, stretching his limbs, "Yes, yes…I'm sure you will…but not today. Today you are weak and I am taking this body so that you won't harm yourself any more than you already have. Now—sleep." Before the boy could even ponder the implications of that single order, Krad muttered an ancient slumber spell, and Satoshi's objections quickly faded as his host slipped into the bliss of unconsciousness.
"Much better—now, the closet…" Krad wandered back through the hall into the bedroom and turned to the large closet to his left. "What does Satoshi-sama wear on days when he doesn't go to that dreary school of his…?"
After a moment of rummaging through the boy's haphazardly organized closet, he finally pulled out something halfway decent—having seen his host wear the outfit before, Krad trusted it wouldn't appear all that odd for him to go out in.
Hastily discarding the nightclothes Satoshi had lounged around in for most of the day, the blonde slipped into a pair of dark pleated slacks and button-up shirt. It was quite fortunate the boy ironed all his things before hanging them in his closet, since Krad with an iron would no doubt have been a rather ugly sight as he struggled to figure out the contraption.
Turning to eye himself in Satoshi's full-length mirror, he nodded approvingly, and ran an intense gaze over his new threads, starting at his long, lustrous golden locks and running down to his socked feet. One of the perks of being a demi-immortal, he never had to indulge in those dreadful, time-consuming baths his hosts periodically took. Eying his hair now, though, he noted it was almost impossible to avoid the locks getting dirty or tangled when he went out. Fishing around inside Satoshi's desk near the bed, he finally found a band to keep it out of the way, and quickly snapped his hair up to half its former length—still a sight to see.
Now…where to? He plopped down onto the mattress to think a moment and pondered where one might go to get a heal-all for himself and his host. Apothecaries were long gone…what did humans use nowadays? Pharmacies, weren't they? He sifted through his mind to try and remember if there was anything like that near the apartment.
Deciding he'd simply stroll around until he found it—it was a beautiful day, after all, perfect for taking a walk in a stolen body—he pocketed the wallet he knew his host kept his payment methods in and slipped into a pair of slightly-small shoes at the genkan, making a mental note to pick up a pair for himself should he try this again.
…What was he thinking? He could make himself a pair from Astral.
After a mental smack he was sure Satoshi would have enjoyed giving him, he stepped out the front door again, locked it with the boy's key, and padded down the plushly carpeted hallway to the elevators.
A few moments later and he was at the front doors to the apartment complex, and faced with a familiar man staring at him strangely. He couldn't place the face at first, and then realized it was his Tamer's landlord when the man spoke.
"…Are you…lost, sir?" the man asked hesitantly, and Krad thought about this for a moment before deciding that he really didn't have to answer any of this man's questions, and could instead use him to answer his own.
"Actually I am," Krad confessed, "Could you direct me to the nearest pharmaceutical establishment? Or apothecary? Whichever your…prefecture…keeps in employ?"
The shorter man blinked a few times in reply, obviously off-put by the unusual answer to his question. "Aah…I believe there's a drug store around the corner, next to the old antique pawn-shop, can't miss it…But, why were you—"
"Thank you," the blonde answered curtly, and pushed out the door, leaving the landlord with his mouth opening and closing as if he'd meant to ask another question.
Strolling down the sidewalk towards the corner a block away, Krad couldn't help but be slightly awed by the sights: he'd never come out into the city during the day—he'd never needed to. His entire existence revolved around the attempted homicide of the Niwa line and that curse of theirs—who, as his name implied, only appeared after sunset. Sure, he'd seen daylight before, he wasn't some heathen who stayed cooped up inside all day; but before it had all the time been through hosts' eyes, and even then it had always seemed to sting his vision, far too bright too handle.
But right now…it was actually…pleasant. Krad found himself actually enjoying the way the cool breeze wafting against him perfectly balanced out the rays of the noon sun streaming down on his exposed flesh. It was quite mysterious that something so simple could be so pleasing. But seasons, like this winter, in the human plane had always fascinated him, how one day it could be snowing and the next just like today—nippy, but not so much that he felt too uncomfortable without a jacket.
Having always lived in the atmosphere he had, trapped in the confines of the Hikari clan, he didn't notice—or rather, haughtily ignored—the strange looks he was receiving as he strolled down the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets, and golden eyes focused right ahead of him. He was already eying the distant "Pharmacy" sign at the corner, an arrow pointing to the right. On all sides, people would catch sight of him, slow, and eventually stop dead in their tracks to stare for a moment before shaking their heads and quickly moving on. No doubt they were wondering at the presence of an obvious foreigner in the midst of the old downtown area of their prefecture.
Turning the corner at the intersection, he quickened his pace a bit, aware that he was on a time schedule in this body, and reached out a hand to grab the door to the pharmacy, heaving it open. A bell tinkled lightly over his head as he stepped over the threshold and entered the building, greeted by a blast of cool air to combat the unusually warm weather outside despite the late winter season.
"One moment! I'll be right with you!" a perky voice called out, seemingly from nowhere, and Krad halted in his tracks to scan his new surroundings. Soon, the owner of the voice stepped out from behind a stack of boxes to welcome him to the store—a small, slim woman with short-cropped dark hair and equally dark eyes. She appeared quite sure of herself at first, but as soon as she caught sight of the blonde, her attitude abruptly shifted, sending a red flush crawling over her features and adding a quaver to her voice.
"Ah—we-welcome to our pharmaceutical supply shop, sir! Can I help you in your search? Looking for something specific to remedy today?" She peered up hopefully, but he didn't even look her in the eye, instead turning his head from side to side, haphazardly scanning the shelves even though he didn't really know what he was looking for in the first place.
"Perhaps…" he conceded, not noticing the joy radiating from her eyes, "I'm looking for something to help my…a friend…He's quite sick, you see, and I need something to make him…better." A simple statement of his aims, but it seemed to be enough to burst the poor girl's bubble, whose face fell slightly.
'He?' she cursed mentally, '…Damn…all the good ones are either taken or gay…' Pouting a bit, she nonetheless continued with her questioning and beckoned Krad to follow her. "…'Something to make him better', you say?" He nodded curtly. "Well—what're his symptoms?"
"Symp…toms?"
"What's wrong with him?" she clarified, as if speaking to a small child. "Is he hot, cold, feverish, chilled, coughing, what?"
'Attractive yes, and cold—quite right. Feverishly flushed, chilled to the touch…' he fought a devilish grin, 'Oh, all of the above…' But as he couldn't exactly reply as such, he instead spoke, "He has what feels to be a high fever, and an incessant cough—for two days at least, now…and oh yes, a headache." He shuddered—that was the one thing he was positive of, for the headache has spread by now into his own being, and throbbed painfully in perfect sadistic rhythm to the twinging in his right palm.
"Hmm…a headache too, you say?" She turned from him and began wandering down one of the aisles, brows furrowed as she scanned the shelves. "And coughing…fever…ah!" Hand shooting out, she grabbed a blue box on a lower shelf and turned it over, reading its label, then nodded approvingly. "Yeah—this should do the trick, sir!" She pushed the box towards him, a bright smile on her face, and he reached out to take it from her, when she caught sight of his palm and gasped, "Y—your hand!"
On instinct, he snatched it back and let go of the box, cradling it with his other, but the girl simply put the item back on the shelf and settled her hands on her hips, making a clucking sound of disapproval. "No no no…that nasty gash won't do—wait right here, I'll get you something that'll help it heal faster!" Without giving him a chance to object, she turned and dashed to the back of the store into a side room—he'd wanted to say something to stop her, but that strange girl wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise! Humans were…such an interesting species. To get excited over the smallest of things!
A moment later she reappeared in front of him with a roll of bandages in one hand and antibacterial cream in the other, then commenced gently rubbing the gel over the cut, binding it with fresh bandages and tying it so it wouldn't come undone easily.
Guiding him, now, to the front desk, she rang up the cold medicine, letting him keep the medicinal tape and cream on the house, after urging him to keep it bandaged. He nodded and turned to exit the store, when she called back to him from the register, smiling sweetly. "…I hope your friend gets better!"
He merely blinked, mystified, at her, golden eyes wide and for once at a complete loss for a witty comeback—this girl…she was nothing like Satoshi; she didn't require any scathing retort to keep her in line or anything of the sort. Shaking off the feeling, he turned and breezed out the door back into the glaring sunlight, and made his way back home.
He supposed he probably should have thanked the girl for her help—but as this thought only crossed his mind once he was back in the apartment, standing at the kitchen sink with a glass of water and two cold pills, he figured it was too late. Carefully studying the instructions, he popped the capsules into his mouth and sighed, downing them with water. According to the girl, the headache should wear off soon, as well as the fever.
Wandering back into Satoshi's room, he slowly began unbuttoning the now-stifling shirt, peeling it and the pants off and letting his hair hang loose again. He found a new set of sleep clothes and pulled these lighter garments on—though the sun was only now about to set, he knew well enough that humans healed best while asleep, and he couldn't stay in this form much longer anyways; may as well make the best of it. If he was lucky, his sleep spell would keep his Tamer out for another few hours at least.
He rolled back the covers and slid onto the bed, stretching out fully as his head hit the pillow, long golden hair spilling everywhere like a river of fire across the mattress. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing and concentrated his energies—suffice to say, the reverse voluntary transformation was not something he'd initiated too often before.
Nevertheless, the sensations followed as they were supposed to—he could feel himself withdrawing control, could feel all the senses beginning to dull as the rightful body was reinstated, releasing power over the form to Satoshi, and soon he was as dead to the waking world as he was before. Thankfully, the boy was still asleep. He swiftly shifted to astral form and slid onto the bed, now clad in his familiar white robe, wrapped it around himself, and just sat, watching and waiting.
Hours later, the moon had finally risen high in the sky, and it was no doubt nearing midnight when the body curled up on the mattress finally stirred from its unnatural Krad-induced slumber. Ears twitched involuntarily when a soft, barely-there melody drifted towards them upon phantom air currents, as if borne by moonbeams. Squinting his eyes in annoyance at being roused, he slowly blinked them open, not moving, merely shifting his gaze to view his surroundings.
Wait…he was in his room…in his bed now—what was the last thing that happened? It was—Krad, yes, that's what it was. He'd transformed into Krad, and had been knocked out by the blonde so he could do…whatever it was he'd wanted to do. Which could have been any number of things, none of those thoughts pleasant.
He now shot straight up in bed and shook his head vigorously, arms posted at his sides—he was alone now, yes, alone except for…his mind, of course. Krad was still there, he could sense the familiar pressure at the back of his head, the pressure of another entity in his consciousness, and knew it was stupid to even call out.
But, it seemed there was no need to call out anyway—for at the other end of the room, standing leaned against one of his great bay windows and staring out at the silver-capped nightscape of Azumano…was Krad. With phantom wings folded idly at rest, and his face turned to the outside, set in an expression of rapture—he was an odd sight indeed.
What was even more odd and had now shocked Satoshi into silence, though, was the fact that the sound…the haunting melody which had roused him from his slumber…was coming from Krad…
"…Wh—what was that?" the boy finally managed to speak, swallowing through his dry throat, as the final strains echoed and slowly faded away into the darkness of the apartment.
Not startled in the least by his Tamer's rising, the blonde turned toward him slowly and smirked lightly—an action which somehow put Satoshi more at ease, since this was an expression much more familiar to him than the eerie expression of awe Krad had been wearing a moment before. 'You're supposed to be resting, Satoshi-sama…'
Narrowing his blue eyes at the lack of an answer, the boy replied icily, "I was until you woke me up—and I asked you a question: What was that?" He paused, and collected himself, turning his eyes to the floor as he muttered, "…It sounded…familiar…"
The smirk on Krad's face only widened at this, and he turned to peer back out the window, a Cheshire expression painted on his features. 'Did it, now?…How very strange indeed…most of my hosts can't remember that far back…'
"What are you talking about?"
He could see only Krad's profile as the image stared up almost longingly at the full fat moon. 'Satoshi-sama…did you know?'
"…Know what?" Why did that curse of his always have to be so damn ambiguous?
'That not once in over three hundred years…in any of my nine—no, ten incarnations now…' He took a single step away from the window, arms limp at his sides, 'Not once has a main-line Hikari mother raised her own son to adulthood? Or even been allowed to see him past his second birthday, save on special family-related occasions?'
Satoshi's face was a blank mask he put in place to hide his emotions from others, and even now it would be difficult for an onlooker to discern his reaction to this statement—but Krad was one from whom it was virtually impossible for him to hide his feelings. Being bound in such a way to one another melded their thoughts and swirled them together until it was nearly hopeless to tell whose was whose. And for this reason, he saw no need to give Krad the pleasure of a reply more thorough than, "Of course I knew that."
He noticed the smirk fade in brilliance. '…Yes…they did teach you that much, didn't they?'
Turning back to Satoshi, he stepped forward, taking long strides to quickly traverse the distance between the window and bed, and the boy unconsciously pulled backwards, away from the swiftly approaching image.
"Wh—what're you—"
Before he could react, a phantom hand made of thought and will reached forward and settled upon his forehead, and though it had no substance, Satoshi was sure he felt it all the same—through some means other than touch which he could not describe. 'Just an image, just an image,' he tried to convince himself, but yet it felt both warm and cool at once against his skin, almost like a desert breeze, where he was unsure of whether to sweat or shiver at the sensation.
'The ache in my head has dwindled, so I can only assume the same has passed to you—and I can't sense much of that fever left, so I may allow that girl down at the pharmacy to live…'
Batting the hand away when he felt it had lingered long enough, he leaned forward, "Ph—pharmacy? You mean—you went out?!"
Krad pulled back upright and crossed his arms, glaring down, 'I told you since you didn't seem to place any importance on caring for our body then I'd take matters into my own hands.' He nodded pointedly at Satoshi's still-bandaged hand, 'How did you think that happened?' Only now was the boy's attention drawn back to the wound, for it hadn't been hurting, so he simply hadn't noticed it.
'She was quite annoying but surprisingly knowledgeable on human ailments—if you get the time I might suggest thanking her in some fashion. Troublesome as the whole ordeal was she did bandage my hand…'
Pulling the bandaged appendage to his chest like a treasured possession, Satoshi lowered his gaze, and muttered something—something Krad didn't catch audibly, but fully understood mentally over the link between curse and host. In jest, to irk him, he queried innocently, prodding, 'What was that, Satoshi-sama?'
"I said—th…thank you…for not trying anything and…for taking care of my body…" He looked up slowly just in time to catch Krad's smirk, which ignited him to bark, "And you don't have to be so smug about it! I'm trying to be civil here—!"
'Calm, calm…' the blonde placated, and Satoshi returned to silently fuming. Once silence had returned to their dwelling, Krad deemed it a fit time to retreat back into his mental cloister for the evening. 'The pills you are to take are on your bedside table…and fresh bandages are in the washroom…' His image faded from view, and Satoshi looked up again, almost instinctively searching the room to be sure he was alone before abandoning himself to his thoughts.
'…You never answered my question, Krad…'
Silence pervaded his mind, but he knew the blonde was still "awake" inside his head, straying in and out of his thoughts, perpetually monitoring him, so it was no surprise when the response didn't come for another few minutes. It was toned down, not sarcastic or biting as would have been expected. 'It was…a present…' Satoshi narrowed his eyes, wanting to snap back that this wasn't an answer, but Krad didn't give him a chance, instead rerouting the conversation.
'…When did you first learn of the Hikari and Niwa family curses, Satoshi-sama? Do you remember that far back—I would venture you do…'
Blinking, but eventually giving in, "Of course," Satoshi spoke aloud, voice barely a whisper, "At the Hikari Academy in the north…for months, years even, they drilled me on nothing but knowledge of all the points of the Hikari clan…including its curse and connection to the Niwas…I was…five…"
A mental smile filled his senses. 'And already the pride and joy of the staff, am I right? You were the best and brightest in the program; but then, surely that was only because…'
"…Because I was to be your host, of course," Satoshi spat out finally, pulling his legs up to his chin and wrapping his arms around them, "I had to be well aware of everything that would happen to me eventually, and they made sure I understood all ours and the Niwas' history."
'Made you sit in a stuffy classroom for hours, am I right?'
"It smelled…like dust, and mold, like it hadn't been aired in centuries, and I could hear the rats in the ceiling—all that money and they had rats in the Academy…"
'And the mantras—those mottos, they made you learn those too, didn't they?'
Satoshi pulled his legs up to his chest and laughed dryly. "I don't even want to remember those mantras…all day, for weeks on end, until I could repeat them in my sleep, 'Deprive a Niwa of his wings and he cannot steal Hikari things'…"
'Ahh—I remember one,' An image filled his mind of Krad closing his eyes and holding up a finger, likening himself to one of the ancient Hikari professors, '"Be lithe of body, sharp of mind, and a Niwa in your snare you'll find."'
Shaking his head, Satoshi couldn't help a tiny smile sneaking onto his lips at the imitation, "No no no, that was one of the easier ones—there was the big one, I remember it, 'Kill your heart, and do not hold anything dear to you…'" His voice trailed into nothingness, and the smile faded quickly, as his eyes widened in realization of the implications of the mantra in present company.
'…"So that he may not appear"…isn't that how it goes?' Krad laughed roughly, not the normally mocking sound he usually gave off when he ridiculed his host for some futile attempt to keep him at bay. 'You Hikaris always were trying to make up for letting that ritual go awry by devising new ways to save your progeny from me…'
There was no suitable reply for this, but a sudden thought struck the boy here, "…H—how did you remember all that, though? When did you hear the mantras, or know of my education?" A pause, and when he felt his curse was taking to long in responding, he pressed, "Krad? How did…how did you know all that?"
Another pause, but the boy let this one go until he did receive a response. 'Satoshi-sama, this they did not tell you I see…some things even the most privileged Hikari cannot be told, apparently.'
"T—tell me what?" His voice was slightly panicked, wondering what new thing he'd learn today that could make his life even worse.
'Simply this—I have always been with you, Satoshi-sama…Always…' The mental smile was back, 'When you were so very small I was with you even then, and when you grew before my eyes, I took careful notice, each step of the way.
'I saw you, watched you, cherished you, and I knew…I knew, "This one…he will be so beautiful one day…and he will be mine…"
'When you cried when you were seven because you did not want to recite your Latin for fear you would fail to accentuate the proper syllables I saw you…when you received the call from the administrator at the main house that a man…an alumnus by the name of Hiwatari wished to adopt you, I was there as well…and I was there all along every time you looked in the mirror and vowed to never let me be released…'
Blue eyes quivered with incredulity. "You…were always…?"
'Your mother, Hikari Rio…such a frail creature, I remember…barely had the strength to sing that final song as she let them carry you away. Not a proper mother for my host in the least, I think. All of them in the past have at least tried to make that lullaby mean something, but she…well, I will not claim to understand you humans' emotions.'
"That song…" He now recalled the original subject of their conversation, "…that was the last thing my mother gave me before I was taken away to the school…" He could feel the waves of affirmation reverberating through his skull.
'Actually…it was the last thing she ever sang… She was determined that you hear it, even though you were barely a few hours old, while she lay dying in that bed, fleeing this world… Regardless of your circumstances, it is the last thing any Hikari woman gives her son, as it's been for three centuries—I've seen it time and time again as they send my future hosts off to be educated.'
Satoshi lifted his head slowly and stared forward into the darkness. "And yet you never feel any pity for them, separated from their loved ones…they are merely a means to an end, an incubator, the method of your release."
'Satoshi-sama…' He slowed as if he was about to reveal something important, 'I did not watch over you for fourteen years simply because you were a method for my release, you know…'
The boy's eyes fell away back to the mattress, where he began to fiddle with a string. "…I know…" What exactly "knowing" entailed, though, remained a mystery, as neither spoke any further on this subject for another few moments.
He lifted his bandaged hand up to his forehead and sighed softly, letting the heat from his lowering fever soothe the twinging in his palm, and reflected aloud, "…I haven't been sick in quite some time…have I…?"
Whether or not the question was directed at Krad or simply rhetorical was debatable, but the blonde jumped at an opportunity to converse with his host again, regardless. 'Years, in fact; the last time was…at the Academy. Pneumonia, if I recall…'
Krad's response didn't seem to anger or annoy his host, so he took this as a good sign. "Yeah…" The boy lay back down on the bed, fully stretched out on his back, with his hand still at his head and eyes closed. "I went…to the hospital…the nearest one was hours away, though…I was really…really sick…" His words were losing their edge, and it was obvious he was beginning to fall asleep by now.
'Yes…you frightened all the board members…they thought you were going to die…'
"Unn…their precious Tamer…they thought he would die…last of the line…I should have done it just to spite you all…" A soft smile, "And then where would we be? In a better place than now, I'll wager…"
Krad chose not to acknowledge the morose humor. 'Such a tiny child, pale and thin, looking as if a gust of wind could send you into the grave—'
"As if that was my fault?" a muffled voice came back, broken with a yawn, "Was I supposed to grow up and be this normal child when I was kept indoors with mottos and history and 'You're the last hope for this family' being shoved down my throat all day?"
'You coped,' was the succinct reply. Satoshi sniffed, and the blonde continued, 'But then, you seemed to make a habit out of exceeding expectations…including those of the doctors assigned to you, convinced you wouldn't make it through the night.'
"…I don't even remember being that sick, really…I remember it being like this, and then it was morning…" A pause, "I felt…fine…just like before…"
'The doctors had no explanation for the recovery…in your last throes that evening, and by morning, healthy as ever…'
Satoshi moved his arm from covering his eyes, and wasn't all that surprised to see Krad sitting on the edge of his bed, hands folded in his lap as he stared into the darkness. Brows furrowing suspiciously, he queried of the blonde, "…You seem to remember an awful lot about that night…"
'I should,' Krad added, as if it was obvious, 'It was I who stayed by your side the whole night and healed you.'
Now the boy sat up fully, throwing the covers off his chest, "What?"
A disinterested golden gaze turned towards him, 'Ought I to have let you die, and faded away as well? Was it wrong of me to care for you?' No response, Satoshi merely turned his gaze away from his curse's staring, 'I took the pain your young body could not handle upon myself, fed you Astral to strengthen your ability to fend off the disease wracking your body, helped you recover and live through the night… It was all I could do, as I couldn't yet manifest and take on the illness fully…'
Leaning forward, settling his weight onto his hands as he shifted down until their faces were at eye level, Krad pinned the boy with a stare and whispered softly, '…Why will you not let me kiss away your pain anymore…?'
Almost reflexively, Satoshi turned his eyes away and muttered, "Because…you are a source of pain now…" When no sarcastic response, or light laughter came, he looked up just in time to catch a look of hurt cross the blonde's features as he tried in vain to disguise it, and eventually gave up and disappeared entirely.
In the dark room, no more conversation was engaged in that night. And Satoshi actually found himself regretting his last comment…he'd actually been enjoying their talk—well, almost.
Notes: Update, as usual, will follow in one week. Please excuse the strange formatting and muddy transitions of last chapter--the site chose that chapter to decide NOT to include my horizontal rules; I've since gone back and fixed that. Also, please note that in chapter seven, the rating WILL go up to R, for graphic violence (as well as for some sexual themes that will be seen in later chapters). So remember to look forupdates at that pointin the R section since only G to PG-13 are usually displayed.