Galatea

Sixth Movement: Shinigami (Angel of Death)

"One seeks to make the loved one entirely happy,
or, if that cannot be, entirely wretched."

Jean De La Bruyère

Satoshi awoke the next morning feeling remarkably better than he'd felt in days. His "vacation" from schoolwork was doing wonders for his mental and physical health—so much so that if he hadn't been worried he'd be dead bored, he'd consider dropping the entire affair altogether. Popping another two of the pills Krad had picked up for him, he swallowed them with obvious effort, not caring to bother with wandering into the kitchen to get something to wash them down with.

'Feeling better this morning, I see, Satoshi-sama,' his curse remarked lightly, while he fished around in his closet for a change of clothes.

Satoshi's response was a simple frown and a soft, "Hmph," not deigning to grace the blonde with further conversation. Truthfully, though his headache had dissipated and the throbbing in his hand was markedly lowered, he still found himself feeling uneasy, disturbed by their talk the night before.

What had possessed Krad to be so frank with him? Or more so—what had possessed Satoshi to hit up the blonde for conversation in the first place? Well, he argued to himself, the "conversation" had really only been Satoshi asking a simple question and the blonde elaborating on it.

But…there had undeniably been something more to their banter—it had been…Satoshi shuddered, almost playful. Almost like…what he would envision Niwa and his Dark engaged in. Reminiscing about days gone by, remembering painfully tedious study sessions, horrifically embarrassing classroom episodes…

He shook his head furiously and tossed a dress-shirt onto the bed, with a pair of slacks soon following. Such thoughts didn't bode well for his sanity.

'Are you going out?' the blonde queried as he slipped into astral form near the foot of the bed, eyeing the set of clothes. 'Should you really be doing such a thing so soon after—'

"I don't need my curse babysitting me. Shut up and just go back to sleep." He slid the closet door shut with a soft sigh, resting his head against it. "I'll go out if I feel like it."

Frowning, Krad narrowed his gaze and snorted, 'Then I suppose that will teach me to ever do anything nice for my host. So harsh!'

Satoshi ignored his pouting and gathered the clothes he'd picked out, stepping into the hall towards the bathroom, intent on taking a shower to fully refresh himself after his illness. He paused at the doorjamb. "That reminds me—never do that again."

Golden eyes blinked in confusion. '…Do what?'

The nip in the air was a cool welcome to Satoshi, despite his wind-burned cheeks, and there was a slight spring in his step, the source of which he couldn't trace. By all means, he noted, he should still be quite miserable. After all, he was looking at a week's suspension from school, Niwa most likely would never look at him again, his relationship with his father was on a steady downhill slide, he was unemployed now—though this had been his own choice—why should he not be miserable? And yet here he was, all but skipping down to the precinct to deliver to Saehara his papers on potential candidates the detective had asked him to look over.

The receptionist at the front desk smiled warmly at him and pointed him down the hall towards Saehara's office, though it wasn't as if Satoshi needed this, and he thanked her with a short bow and walked on. A few officers dared double-takes at the sight of the boy until they realized it was only their former commander, and then subsequently ignored him, and a moment later he was knocking on the frosted glass window to the detective's office.

"Come in," a gruff voice announced from inside, "That better be you, Sakaguchi, with those reports from last night's raid on the wharf warehouse—I told you to hand it in at 9 A.M. sharp this morning, and it's almost noon! If you're late with next week's report, I swear I'll can your a—" He spared a glance up and paled, "Oh, Hiwatari-san…s-sorry…I thought you were one of my officers…"

Satoshi offered a rare smile, "I see things haven't much changed since I left last week." Saehara shook his head, and the boy stepped further into the office, shutting the door behind him. "I've come with the papers you asked me to look over." He passed a file across to the detective, "Not a bad batch of candidates, actually."

"None could compare with you, though, Hiwatari-san." At Satoshi's frown, he assured him, "And I'm not just saying that because you were my superior. You just…" His brows crinkled, and he seemed to put a lot of thought into his statement, "…You and Dark…neither one of you were normal, you know…You two just seemed to…fit. I'm sure he saw you as a rival he was destined to try and outsmart."

Satoshi suppressed a heaving sigh—Saehara didn't know just how right he was. "Well, that's your job now. Yours and whoever might be my successor." He gave a bow, "Thank you, Saehara-san, but I must be going now—I hope the report is satisfactory." He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"Ah—wait, Hiwatari-san!" Saehara called back, "One more thing before you leave." The boy stopped, hand resting on the doorknob, and turned his head. "Has your father mentioned anything to you lately about any press conference he's holding soon?"

Frowning, Satoshi's hand dropped to his side—apparently Saehara hadn't been appraised of the less-than-sterling relationship he and the man held. "No…I haven't spoken to him in a few days at least. When did you hear of this? And a conference to announce what?"

"That's exactly what I was intending on asking you," the elder man admitted, settling back in his chair, "A reporter from the Azumano Weekly called this morning looking to confirm a time with our press department—it's supposedly been set for Sunday afternoon, two days from now. They directed the call to me, but when the guy found out I had no idea what he was talking about, he told me he had been asked by Supreme Commander Hiwatari not to mention any details about the conference beyond the time it was scheduled. I thought you might know something, but…"

Satoshi shifted uneasily and turned his eyes away. This wasn't good…what could his father possibly have to make an announcement about that couldn't be discussed even with him? There had been nothing said of this at their last meeting, though that hadn't ended in the best of ways, when Satoshi thought about it. And when had Hiwatari Kei ever called a press conference before? From what he understood, the man tended to shun major events like that unless it directly benefited him in some fashion.

"Sorry to have kept you, Hiwatari-san, just curious." Saehara snapped the boy from his reverie, and Satoshi's gaze shot back up. "Thank you again for the papers."

"Ah, no…no, it was nothing." He bowed again and quickly exited the office, mind still playing at hyperspeed. Bumping into officers as he made his way to the front lobby, he offered no apology, keeping his head low and earning glares from all sides. He paid them no heed, though, and darted out the front doors into the chill again, completely missing the pair of cold eyes staring down at him from the bay window of an office on the top floor of the precinct.

Stopping at a crosswalk, Satoshi reached into his bag for his cellphone when a shrill beeping reached his ear, and stepped out of the flow of traffic into an enclave, bringing the device to his ear. "Hiwatari speaking."

"Coming all the way down to the station without even dropping by my office to say 'hello,' Satoshi? My my…and I thought I'd raised you to be more polite than that."

The boy frowned at his adopted father's obviously patronizing tone. "I had business to attend to with Detective Saehara. I believe I have reminded you on several occasions that I make it a point not to 'drop by' unless I have some purpose for doing such a thing."

"Then I suppose," Kei tested from the other end, "that you've not heard of my little announcement set for this Sunday?"

Satoshi drew a sharp breath, not even pausing to acknowledge that he had heard about it. "…What are you planning?"

Kei tutted softly, "'What are you planning, Father?'" A sigh, "It's precisely that manner of speech that has driven me to such lengths, Satoshi… Really, if you'd only cooperated—"

"What are you planning, Father?" he ground out quickly, and was returned a light chuckle. "Saehara said you wouldn't allow the subject to be released before the conference."

"There's going to be an announcement run on the seven o'clock evening news tonight, Satoshi. I suggest you watch it." There was a click, and the line went dead.

Trudging back to his apartment, Satoshi was in quite a sourer mood now than when he'd left an hour or so before, the threat of Kei's announcement hanging over him like a dark storm cloud. Whatever the man had in mind, it almost certainly had something to do with coercing the boy into reassuming his position at the station—blackmail, then? Would the man really stoop so low?

And what information could he possible possess that the general public might give a damn about? Certainly nothing about Satoshi himself, for few even knew he was anyone of consequence. Then…what? He wagered it was something he probably would feel better not knowing.

He wouldn't realize until that evening how right he was.

Following Kei's advice, he turned the small television in his living room on to catch the evening news, flipping through the local stations just in time to see a banner spanning the bottom of the screen boasting "Breaking News From the Azumano Police Department."

The camera focused on a female anchor, who was poised to deliver her story with a small stack of notes clutched in her grip. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it was announced this afternoon by an as-of-yet unnamed member of the Azumano Police Department that the forces against Kaitou Dark have made headway into putting a stop to this thief's bold snatches once and for all. Our newsroom was wired by our sister media source, the Azumano Weekly, that a press conference is to be held at noon this Sunday in the downtown convention center, where new information recently obtained regarding the true identity of the infamous phantom thief will be made public."

Satoshi's eyes nearly doubled in size, and the remote dropped to the floor as he gaped at the screen. "He wouldn't dare…" He reached forward and turned the television off, slipping onto the couch in a daze. "He wouldn't…dare sink that low…No—no…no one would believe him! He's got no witnesses to back him—"

He slapped a hand to his mouth, and closed his eyes, a soft curse slipping out, "The officers…with Norita, from last Friday's job…dammit…" They'd heard the Niwa name uttered by Krad, and it wouldn't take long to make some sort of connection and draw up information on the clan, if he knew the Azumano investigative department. Norita Akira was an utter nitwit, but Saehara had chosen the rookie's backup officers well, and they'd been trained to pick up on even the slightest nuances.

"Had to open your mouth, didn't you?" he muttered to his curse. "Couldn't just ignore Norita, you just had to correct him and—and—say that name…"

"I want to know just how the hell the police department got wind of our involvement with Dark!" Niwa Emiko bellowed, angry red eyes darting from husband to son to father, eventually coming to rest on a very flustered Towa-chan, who gave a squeak and darted away into the kitchen. "That fight you and that boy had must have set him off!" She sighed loudly, "We'll definitely have to kill him now—I'd wanted to refrain from violence on our part this generation, but it's apparent it can't be avoided—"

"Emiko-san!" Kosuke interrupted sharply, "Let's all just calm down." Daiki nodded sagely, and Daisuke just sat in silence, head cradled in his palms, shaking back and forth in defeat. "Now, while Satoshi-kun is a likely source of this announcement, we cannot afford to safely say he's the only possible source, right?" He cast a knowing glance at his wife, who huffed indignantly, crossed her arms, and sank into a chair. Directing his speech to his son, now, he asked, "Daisuke…can you think of any way information that might link us to Dark got out—I realize that we Niwas might not even be the implied 'true identity,' but we have to treat this very seriously."

Daisuke lifted his eyes and stared straight ahead, wracking his brain, as well as urging Dark to think long and hard, too. "I…Hiwatari-kun's the only one who could know…I never did anything in front of anyone else at school, except for…for the fight last week… I mean, anyone might have drawn conclusions from it if they'd already had suspicions about me, but I never…I never said anything about Dark or the Niwa family…"

'Na, Daisuke…' a tentative voice pressed, and the boy perked up, immediately drawing every eye in the room to him, 'That's not really…well, you never said anything linking me to your family, but…Krad has. And he did it in front of outsiders too.'

"But…when!" the boy desperately called aloud, and Emiko tensed, a sharp look from Kosuke the only thing keeping her silent for the moment, "When—we've only fought him recently the other night at the Klein Cathedral, and Krad was—"

'—Completely ignoring the four officers who were in the room with us, right?' Daisuke paled in realization, 'See, even you forgot about them…We almost all did, and Krad's never cared enough to watch his mouth around outsiders. Your mom was right about those Hikaris never caring about anyone discovering their secret. I'm almost positive that's when it happened—that snotty boyfriend of yours wouldn't have waited 'til now to spill your secret.' The redhead blushed all the way to his roots, but couldn't find his voice to snap back a retort, 'He would've done it well before, probably right after your fight, if not right after he confessed to you—if you assume he did it to force something out of you.'

"That's right…Hiwatari-kun…wouldn't have waited so long…he's known my secret all this time, but he plays by rules! He wouldn't stoop to this—" He shot a glare to his mother, "—no matter what others might think." Turning his gaze to the rest of his family, he repeated Dark's suspicion. "On our last job, we ran into four officers Detective Saehara had sent in to guard the bow. When Dark and Krad fought, Krad said—"

"Dark and Krad what!" Emiko exploded, standing straight up with her fists tightly clenched at her sides, and Daisuke pulled back in surprise, then realized that he'd neglected to inform his mother of his and Satoshi's current relationship—or rather, Satoshi's and Krad's. "What's this about your last job? Why wasn't I informed of this! This is very much something I think I needed to be told about!" She turned to Kosuke now, "Our son has been out fighting that—that monster and he hasn't even told us about it, Kosuke-san!"

The man laughed lightly, "Well…that's not quite true, Emiko-san…I kind of…already knew…"

"You KNEW! How long has this been going on—and who else knows, hm?" She dared a glance at her father, who gulped nervously, "Did you know! Am I the only one left out of the loop? What about Towa-chan!"

"Calm down, Emiko-san," her husband placated, "I only just learned the other day—and thought it best to keep it quiet since you tend to…blow things like this out of proportion." She obviously wanted to protest this observation, but Kosuke plowed on, "As for how long it's been going on, I'm under the impression that last week's job was the first one of its nature, in which Satoshi-kun allowed his curse to manifest, because—" His gaze darted over to his son, behind Emiko, who was desperately shaking his head, begging his father not to reveal his secret, "—because of some decision the boy evidently came to recently…I'm not sure what drove it, actually."

The Niwa matron stared her husband down, searching his face to be sure he was telling the truth, until she eventually either gave up or believed him. "Well, either way," she sighed, "This introduces a whole new set of problems to address in planning snatches. Daisuke—" The boy jumped a bit, "—you realize, of course, that this means we're going to have to factor in that monster in your daily training regimen now. And before you even ask, yes—this is on top of your efforts to cut your times in half. I won't have you out there risking your life unprepared."

'So she doesn't mind me out there risking my life if I am prepared?' Daisuke thought bitterly, but nodded his assent.

"I'll be talking to him, alright? Don't you dare come out and threaten him—or I'll treat it as serious an offense as you violating the stupid compromise we have regarding Niwa." Satoshi frowned to himself, not sure how comfortable he was with using their treaty as leverage in a threat against his curse, but realized he really had no other bargaining chips.

There was silence in his mind for a moment as Krad weighed the acceptability of this order, and eventually he conceded, 'As you wish, Satoshi-sama, but do not doubt me. I will manifest should that Hiwatari attempt to harm you in any way…I won't be asking permission, be assured.' Satoshi chose to neither object nor agree to his curse's stipulation, himself not quite sure how he viewed it. He and his father's last meeting hadn't ended on the best of notes, and much to the boy's dismay he'd found he hadn't really minded Krad's possessive reminder to his adopted father… It had actually given him something of a guilty thrill, to see the police commander whimpering under Krad's grip on Satoshi's behalf…

He shook his head furiously to clear such compromising images from it, and reminded himself why he'd come. Lifting a fist, he rapped loudly on the doors.

"Come in, Satoshi," Kei called before the door had even opened, quite confident he knew who was knocking. Setting aside paperwork he'd been drawing up in preparation for the press conference, he settled back into his chair, smiling contently. "Now isn't this something…twice in one day you've spoken to me, and on separate occasions too, I might add. I do enjoy our chats, son. I really do."

Flinching at the term "son," Satoshi launched right into his lecture. "I don't know what it is you're thinking of gaining by this, but you leave the Niwa clan out of it! I've told you before, you're not even a Hikari clan member, let alone an elder to decided how this generation's feud is handled. You've no authority to—"

"You don't know why I'm holding this conference?" Kei interrupted, not moved in the least by Satoshi's tirade. "Tell me you aren't that stupid, boy. You know exactly what I want you to do. This is simply…assurance. If you want to keep playing your little game of cat and mouse with your childish rules of 'fair play,' then you'll come back and take up your position again.

"If you truly intend to have nothing more to do with this inter-family battle, then alienate yourself from it completely and let me do as I please. Really, you should be thanking me. I'm going to do the dirty work you didn't want to."

"I am taking care of it, I told you! Surely you heard the officers' report last Friday—I let him out, and we very nearly won if that stupid rookie Norita hadn't bungled everything. How is that not good enough? Just because I'm not out there myself—"

"That is precisely what I mean." Kei pushed his chair away and stood, frowning now. "You're taking the easy way out, Satoshi—the weak way, and I know I didn't raise a weak Hikari child."

"You didn't raise me at all," the boy spat, "You simply housed me for a few months and sent me off to prepare for Dark in my own apartment. The Academy raised me."

Kei ignored this, only narrowed his gaze. "I'll hear no more excuses from you. You have two choices. You'll either come back and resume your post as commander of the forces against Dark, as you've been up until now, or you'll have nothing more to do with this battle. Neither of you, Satoshi. If you choose the latter…I will personally take over your duty, the duty of defending this clan. Neither you nor your curse will be needed any longer." The boy gave no response, silently seething inside. "That's all I've to say on the matter. It is Thursday now—you have until an hour before the press conference on Sunday. I suggest you give your situation some deep thought, boy. You may leave."

By the time Satoshi returned to his apartment for the second time that day, the city had been plunged into the lively darkness of early evening, all traces of the sun's warmth having sunk into the west.

He had no choice…no choice…and it was all those damn Niwas' fault! If only he didn't care so much, if only they didn't make him care so much…his situation would be so much simpler! Why…why had he been tossed into such a scenario as this, faced with such choices as these! Was this still part of his penance, part of his curse? Caught between a rock and a hard place…but what meant more to him?

Of course he would go back…he had to. He still…cared for that boy too much to see his life completely flung into chaos just because Satoshi wanted some rest. Daisuke would at the very least never be able to show his face at school again—no, he wouldn't even be able to go out in public again. His entire family would be forced into hiding, and it would be even harder for Dark to pull off his jobs if he had to constantly look over his shoulder to be sure that the police weren't following him back to wherever the Niwa clan was holed up.

This was precisely why his clan had never stooped to such tactics before—it took away the entire point of their feud when outside authorities were involved! It was one thing if those outside authorities were Hikari clan members themselves—it was duty, after all. But for centuries this had been a strictly Hikari/Niwa battle, that was it. Hiwatari was violating the unspoken and unwritten rules of war! He was calling Satoshi weak for allowing Krad to do all the work…when it was the police chief himself who was taking the easy way out.

No…he would give in, he would buckle under the pressure. He'd have to break off his compromise with Krad, that much was certain, and undertake the pursuit of Dark with his own hands again. This would no doubt anger the blonde greatly, but at this point Satoshi couldn't care less. He'd indulged the little whim of allowing his curse more freedom—he would simply say he'd decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Then everything would be back to the way it was before…

Wonderful. Just perfect. His life would suck again.

Krad sat in the back of Satoshi's mind as asked throughout the conversation with Supreme Commander Hiwatari, his rage against the man growing ever steadily with each word rolling off the forked tongue. It was only his telling Satoshi that he wouldn't manifest so long as Hiwatari didn't try anything that kept him at bay—and even that had been stretched to its limits during the meeting.

For now he could feel it creeping in like the tide—the familiar wave of sorrow, the depression brought about by utter frustration and inability to do anything to change one's lot in life. Satoshi's emotions hadn't sunk this low since his confession to the Niwa boy, and it wasn't a sensation the blonde was looking forward to experiencing again. And what had brought it all on…?

Hiwatari Kei. The man responsible for making his precious tamer's life—and consequently his life—hell. The one making every effort to impose his own desires on the boy, to live vicariously through him. The one…who would surely pay for making his Satoshi-sama miserable.

True, Krad allowed, Hiwatari's blackmail attempt appeared to do exactly what Krad wanted it to: It would force the boy back into his proper role as protector of Hikari family items. For he was the ideal protector—not Krad. Krad was there to ensure that somehow the artpieces were defended. That should an heir ever, for whatever reason, fail to fight Dark, there would be someone to ensure that the works didn't go unguarded. For where, then, would be the point of their fight? It was simply another situation in which their battle would be useless.

But then came the matter of weighing the importance of the two issues he was faced with, much as his host was doing right now. Would he allow Hiwatari to order Satoshi around this way—to order him around this way? The police commander was doing one thing Krad agreed with: getting the boy to return to work. But he was accomplishing it by means Krad most certainly did not agree with: blackmailing him into returning.

In the end, the blonde's loyalty would always fall on the side of his Tamer, and never with an outsider. In a matter of family pride versus his host's happiness…how could he respond?

Well, it wasn't a matter of his host's happiness alone, though. It was his host's happiness…and Krad's own pride. Hiwatari was assaulting his honor, ordering him not to interfere in that which he'd been created to.

Just who did this human think he was?

Obviously he needed to be taught his place…And Krad considered himself quite qualified to administer the lesson.

Satoshi-sama would, no doubt, grudgingly agree to the man's terms—he cared for that Niwa boy too much, still. He would return, despite his better judgment, and plunge himself into that way of life he so despised all over again, when Krad had worked so hard to attain some sort of accord with his Tamer.

For this, Hiwatari had to be punished. And if Satoshi had not the will or means to do so, then Krad would take matters into his own gloved hands.

Without the boy's knowledge, of course. Such things were not for children's eyes.

Two days passed without word from his son, and the police commander was beginning to get anxious. He knew Satoshi would have made his decision by now, so why hadn't he called? Perhaps he was putting it off for as long as possible, delaying the inevitable. Whatever the reason, he felt confident the boy would contact him before the next day's scheduled event.

Everything was still coated with a thin film of wetness from the earlier afternoon's showers as Hiwatari Kei exited his office on Saturday evening, locking up for the night on his way home. He and his adopted son had mutually agreed to live apart nearly a year ago now, so that the boy could focus on living independently without distractions, focus solely on Dark, focus on what he was born for.

Clutching his briefcase close to him, he turned up the collar on his trenchcoat and hurried across the empty intersection; there were few cars out at this hour. His office was situated deep in the heart of the downtown Azumano district, and so parking spots were few and precious. He counted himself lucky that his was only a few blocks away, with a short walk through a local park.

Streetlamps flickered overhead as he furtively wandered along the concrete paths to the old lot, and he found himself looking to his sides every now and then, sensing he was being watched. After a moment, though, he shook his head and reprimanded himself—he was a grown man, and this was a walk he'd made many times before, at night and during the day. Why was tonight any different?

Because, though he didn't know it, tonight there was someone waiting for him. Not to his left, not to his right—and not in front of him or behind him. This someone was waiting on top of the streetlight Kei was just about to pass under, great white wings folded close to his body to conceal his waiting figure.

He would wait only another second, before swiftly unfurling the wings and hurtling down to scoop up the unsuspecting Hiwatari, and then, having knocked him out, would carry him off into the night.

When Kei came to, everything that had happened up to his blacking out came slamming back to him with the force of a bullet train, and he groaned groggily. He was slumped up against a wall, resting on a stately marble floor that was most certainly not a part of the park or his office. It was too dark to discern exactly where he was, but—

"Do you like it, Hiwatari-san? It was once one of many Hikari estates in the Tokyo area, but around the time of the Cultural Revolution the family was stripped of most of its fortune, many of their fantastic artworks being burned and destroyed by the fools in the government of the era." Krad stepped forward into a circular pool of light cast by the moon that glowed overhead, visible through a large window on the ceiling. His golden hair swayed behind him, glinting like fresh-spun flax, and his eyes flashed in devilish mirth. "What works they could salvage they sent to every corner of the earth—and already many have found their way back here, to their home. For the moment, though, this house serves as a museum of pre-Revolution artifacts. But then…you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Wh—what did you bring me here for, Krad? What do you want?" As soon as the words had left his mouth, though, Kei immediately regretted them. He had a feeling he already knew why Krad had brought him here, and asking the question directly seemed like asking the guard with his hand on the electric switch why one was sitting in the electric chair. "Dark's nowhere around here—you aren't needed."

Krad smiled and shook his head, stepping forward, ever closer to Kei, who had nowhere else to which he could back up. "Patience, patience, Hiwatari-san…all your questions will be answered soon…but first, I have something to ask you, a little…query I've been pondering since our meeting the other day. You remember it, don't you? When you rudely slapped poor Satoshi-sama's cheek? He wasn't very happy, you know…" Kei gulped, and Krad stopped in front of him, squatting down on his haunches, and rubbed a gloved finger gently over the trembling man's cheekbone, almost mockingly soothing him.

"Did you know…that the Hikari family is not the only family with magic power flowing through their veins? It's simply…that they are the family with the most magic, the most active family in the world. Did you know that, Hiwatari-san?"

Kei somehow found the strength to hastily shake his head, intent on merely humoring the creature.

"Oh, but it's true, you know. Every human has some magic in them, though for the great masses wandering along in ignorance to its presence it is miniscule and negligible. You, like most humans, would have to band with others in a force of some several thousand to combat the power contained in my left index finger alone—think of it that way. Satoshi-sama is a Hikari, and though he cannot compare to me, pure magic as I am, he could wipe you from existence without batting an eye had he not the mental control he does. Be grateful you did not adopt Hikari Akira—now there was a true Tamer…but I digress." He waved a hand, urging, "Please, stand," and it was obvious it was not a request, simply a polite command. Kei obliged.

"Now, Hiwatari-san, I will answer your questions: Why did I bring you here, what do I want? I don't really want anything—at least nothing you have the power to give me. If I wanted something so mundane as that, believe me I would have already taken it by force. No, I have brought you here…for a different reason.

"It is painfully obvious to me that you do not fully appreciate the honor you've been paid by being allowed to raise Satoshi-sama as your own child. He is the pride of the Hikari family, an arrival hoped for each generation, my arrival." He began to pull on one of his long gloved fingers, slowly removing the material. "And you were entrusted with his care, during one of the most important stages of his development, preparing for the time when I would manifest and he would take up his position fighting the Niwas.

"He is a being more beautiful, more precious, more godly than your pathetic human mind can even comprehend, and he was given to you. To you! Do you not understand that? One who could as easily destroy you as acknowledge you, and you were permitted to bask in his presence…I still do not understand why Satoshi-sama put up with you for so long." He folded the glove and placed it in a pocket, then proceeded to work on the next one.

"And yet despite being accorded this privilege, you have of late treated Satoshi-sama as if…well, as if he were a mere human like yourself. You threatened him, held the Niwa boy over him like a carrot, instructing him to jump for it. You bent him and bent him, making him conform to your will, and I dare say you nearly broke him." He folded the second glove as well and placed it with its twin, then stepped back.

"That was your first mistake: You made Satoshi-sama sad."

He held up a finger and began twirling it in the air, as if wrapping an invisible something around the digit, and Kei looked on confused, then suddenly felt his right upper-arm muscle tighten uncomfortable, and Krad smiled.

In a flash, the golden being jerked his arm backwards as if ripping a fraying string off of his coat, and Kei too was pulled forward, hand clamping down on his arm again, and he let out a cry, falling to his knees in pain.

Doubled over, he heaved loudly and shook uncontrollably. He pulled his palm away from his stinging arm and stared at it in horror: it was covered in blood….in his blood. Blood which was now seeping profusely from what appeared to be a tiny slice-wound, sending spurts of crimson onto his clothes and the floor. He looked up in horror at Krad, unable to express his confusion.

"Did it hurt, Hiwatari-san? I should think it did, Dark doesn't like it either when I manage to get my fingers wrapped around his threads. But then, it's a difficult task to do with him, he's so adept at hiding them from me. Yours, however, shine like little strings of fire, calling me, and so I answer." He twisted another finger now, and Kei felt his left side hitch, like he'd just run a mile and was developing a cramp.

"You made your second mistake when you tried to replace me. Telling Satoshi-sama that if he did not return to his position as police commander then you would take matters into your own hands—really, how stupid can you be? To think that a human could replace Krad of the Hikari in a role I've been playing out for hundreds of years?" A cruel laugh escaped. "Now that was your own fault."

Rip rip snap, and another thread was pulled, tearing through Kei's delicate aura and spattering the floor with further flecks of blood. The man gasped, as if struggling to scream but finding his voice was caught halfway up his throat and unable to be released.

"Do you know what these are, these threads I'm ripping from your body? You cannot see them, I know, so I will do you this final honor and explain them to you." Krad's voice took on its usual light tenor wave as he tugged teasingly at another thread connected to Kei's throat.

"These are astral anchoring threads, tying your physical body to your astral magic that runs in your blood. So, when I pull like so—" He accented the final word with a yank and opened a fresh slit on the man's neck, which squirted pathetically, for Krad had been sure not to—as of yet—hit his jugular, "It draws the anchor through to the physical realm, and extracts a bit of your life with it." As he watched Kei writhing on the floor, twisting as he tried to cover his new wounds, he smiled and cooed, "Yes, I imagine it hurts very much for a human."

He followed up by unceremoniously ripping another ten or so threads from different parts of the man's body, washing the floor beneath him in a spattering of red, smeared into phantom glyphs by the thrashing body of the police commander. Each new thread snapped, and the torso shifted with a grieving cry that wracked his body, heaving and wheezing, until it seemed he would go hoarse for all the yelling.

Krad squatted down again, having somehow kept his person completely free of the gore Hiwatari was flecking the walls and Hikari artifacts with. He sneered contemptuously at the display, disgusted at the creature breaking down before him, and hopped back just out of reach as the man stretched out a hand for mercy. "You brought this upon yourself, Hiwatari-san. I am blameless, as you can see. Had you not first wronged Satoshi-sama, and compounded it by wronging me, you might have escaped my retribution…but, there is still a way you might redeem yourself…"

Kei's gray eyes seemed to flare back to life, forcibly rising up to view Krad's face as if it were the face of an angel sent from heaven to bring him back to life. The Hikari curse stood back to his full height, all the while keeping Kei's gaze trained on his rising figure.

A hand outstretched, he spoke, voice filled with grace, "Now, apologize to Satoshi-sama, Hiwatari-san…tell him how very sorry you are and beg for him to forgive you…and you may be forgiven."

"…P-please…please…Sa—Satoshi…I…I'm so—rry…I didn't…I didn't treat you…with the respect you deserved…F-forgive me….please!" He mustered the plea with all his strength, voice hoarse with pain, and he coughed loudly. As his entreaty died away, he gazed up expectantly, wondering if he dared to hope for any mercy…

Krad smiled that devilish smile of his. "I'll be sure to pass along that pathetic apology to Satoshi-sama." He began twisting again, and Kei's face paled in horror as he felt his chest constrict, perhaps the same feeling one might have during a heart attack.

"But—you…you said I would be forgiven! I told him I was sorry! I—you lied!"

Shaking his head, Krad replied gently, "Oh no, no…I never lie…I said you may be forgiven. And who knows, you may be. By someone other than myself, perhaps. But never by me…" He gently tugged the invisible thread connected to the heart, prompting Kei to relieve the tension by rising up to his knees, tugging pathetically on Krad's immaculate white robe.

"No…no, please…I understand now, how foolish I was…forgive me…" In a flash of inspiration, his appeals grew more fervent, "Satoshi! Satoshi—it's me, your father! I'm here—don't let him hurt me anymore! Satoshi! Satoshi!" Tears welled up and began seeping down his pallid face, mixing with blood and sweat, "Sa…Satoshi…"

His hand fell away and he laid his head on the floor, succumbing to whatever fate might subsequently hand him, and did not lift it again, even as Krad bent and settled a hand on the crown of his head, stroking him soothingly.

"But Hiwatari-san, didn't you realize? Satoshi-sama cannot hear you…"

5:30 came far too early in the morning for Aizawa Hanou, head of security at the Hikari mansion-turned museum, and the aging man in his mid-forties was hardly eager to begin another dull day stationed off a backroad outside of the Azumano district in the front lobby of a museum few knew existed and even fewer visited.

Pocketing his keys with a clanking jingle, he wandered through the maze of hallways, flicking on light switches as he wound his way towards the center of the great building, a daily ritual. Sauntering down the hallway into the ballroom area, though, a dank smell wafted up from the ground and into his nostrils, tainting what had been fresh air before he entered the hall.

His face twisted as he tried to block the mysterious stench, covering his mouth and nose with his shirt collar, to no avail. What was that smell? It was familiar, yes, but nothing he could pin. When he pulled open the great oaken doors to the ballroom, the horrid odor seemed to be magnified ten times, and his eyes watered.

The cloudy day prevented much sunlight from streaming in through the glass window-ed ceiling, so he had to fumble around on the wall for the light switch, patting it down until his fingers brushed the knob. For some reason the floor was sticky, and he frowned, annoyed. He'd have to fetch the mop after this—apparently one of their few visitors had snuck in a drink the previous day and dirtied the floor, and something must have died in the vents as well, because the stench just would not leave.

Click

The room lit up bright as day, and he smiled, pleased that something was finally going right today, and turned around. Wouldn't it have been a fine start if one of the lamps had gone out—

"Oh my God…"

It was a sight right out of a horror film, so grotesque, so surreal, so unearthly. The floor was positively drenched in blood, smeared and caking in filmy puddles beneath his feet—the walls, too, were spattered with flecks of blood like someone had taken a paintbrush, dipped it in gore, and shaken it around the whole room.

But there, right on front of him, was a corpse, pinned—no, crucified on the wall: small golden crosses staking his hands and feet, and a gleaming golden sword angled down, impaling the man's chest. The stomach had burst open at some point, letting what looked to be gray ropes hang down freely, and the blood had drained down, pooling in the feet and staining them an inhuman purple hue, with fresh life-liquid still oozing from thousands and thousands of tiny slashes which decorated every inch of exposed skin, the chest, the arms, the neck, the face, the legs.

What remained most intelligible of the face was the mouth, twisted open in a silent scream, head lolling forward as if directing pleas at the sword, begging it to remove itself from his abdomen. And indeed, rigor mortis seemed to have set the corpse arched forward, trying to pull itself off the instrument even in death.

Hanou took a step back, his face frozen in wide-eyed horror, when his eye was drawn to faint writing above the mangled body, scripted in what he would dare conjecture was the very blood the man, the floor, and the walls were soaked in.

The False Prophet

Slipping a few times on the blood-slicked floor as he scrambled to the front desk to telephone the police, Aizawa felt he would never be rid of the image of the man he would come to discover was Hiwatari Kei, former head of police, staked to the wall of the Hikari Mansion's Central Ballroom, with the famed Toki no Kusabi piercing his gut.

Author's Notes: Alright everyone, it's that time—time to remind you all that in the next chapter the rating's gonna go up to R for graphic violence (and of course, a little sexual content, but that's for later :P). I hope you've all enjoyed the drama so far, and it only gets more intense from here. Next update in one week!