Impersonator Waltz

Chapter Six

Begonia's Warning

'Holy shit!' Kyo yelled, coming to a screeching halt in front of the hunching form of Ayame Sohma. His eyes darted around, half-hoping to spot a telephone booth or a house or something that could give them a bloody hand. Yuki, for once in his life, lost the race there. He stopped behind Kyo, breathing deeply, struggling a little. His brow knotted itself as he hurriedly asked what was wrong,

The Snake, however, seemed not to notice. He kept sobbing Shigure's name over and over again, shaking the limp form roughly when he grew the most hysterical. Tears streamed down the starkness that was his face. His hands desperately kept hold of Shigure's traditional clothing. Wind swept across them, hurling their hair in every direction.

'Ayame, stop!'

Yuki stuffed the piece of paper in his pants pocket, the furthest thing from his mind, and seized Ayame's hands, trying to pry them away from Shigure. The Snake reacted violently. His head whipped up, eyes electricity, and he screamed, voice raw and that of a child's:

'No! I might not have who has my heart, but you're not going to take away the person who owns who I am!'

He scrambled back clumsily, dragging Shigure's body with him. His eyes were wide, frightened, insane. The knuckles of both his hands were white as he clutched Shigure for dear life. Yuki stepped back, incredibly alarmed, his own eyes darker and worried. Wind blew again, this time colder, grazing teeth against their skin. The Snake resumed in shaking Shigure, sobbing his name, pleading for him to return and comfort him and that he couldn't do it alone.

Yuki tried several times to separate the conscious and the unconscious to no avail. Ayame kept yelling at him to get away, that he was too young, that he was just his little brother who didn't know anything about anyone. When Ayame screeched it for the third time, Yuki looked away, shocked to find his chest hot and his eyes even hotter. It was like he touched the past with his very finger, and then brought the burning liquid into his soul, instantly robbing him of a little more sanity. He tried again to break them apart, seeing Ayame beginning to graze his nails against his face maddeningly. But he achieved the same result. Yuki backed away, body numb, eyes a little wide, lips pressed together.

Kyo looked at the Rat once, eyes hooded by hair and eventual understanding. He nodded, stepped close to Ayame and then punched him. The older man's grip was relinquished as cried out, falling back. His bottom lip was cut clean through. The blood against the paleness of skin was almost sickening.

A wet silence held them in its hands. The tiniest of sounds – the giggling leaves, the erratic beating of Yuki's and Ayame's hearts, Kyo's even breathing – were amplified.

'Now, it's either you get a fucking grip on yourself or I have a go at you again.' Kyo's voice was calm, dangerous, a steel plate against the wind. His eyes flashed once as he gazed intensely at Ayame, mouth straight. 'You choose. Your shaking the shit out of that Dog won't do him any good. You're probably mixing up the crap he has for brains to the point that he'll be a vegetable when he wakes up. We need to get him to Hatori.'

Ayame's eyes clouded over and a sob escaped his lips. Specks of blood ricochet onto Shigure's face.

Kyo felt no pity. Yuki stared on.

'Either come or don't come, you idiot. I'd prefer it if you don't, but I know the stupid Dog would want you to.'

He didn't need to tell Yuki to help him carry Shigure. Yuki was there already. They made their way to Hatori's, a limp and cold Writer between them.

Ayame held a hand to his lip, half-attempting to stem the mad flow of rouge. His fingers trembled. The coppery taste of his own blood was a queer flavor on his lips, making him dizzy and sending his thoughts into a deeper, more complex spiral.

After a moment, he stumbled after the trio, hair flying back like a severed, colorless curtain.

Unbeknownst to his phone back at home ringing, Hatori kept his gaze to the floor. Hands hung loosely by his sides as he knelt in front of the slowly pacing Akito. Hair curtained those mysterious eyes of his, adding to the desire of finding out what kind of patterned stains were imprinted on the Dragon's soul. It was comfortably warm in the room, like boiled dew, but the cold outside had encrusted itself on Hatori's pale skin; iced-over tears.

'My darling Dragon,' cooed Akito, leaning in very close to Hatori. Her breath was hot against the Dragon's face. 'Why are you sad?'

When Hatori did not answer, Akito slapped him. His head went to the side, but he did not move: couldn't or wouldn't, only he knew. A stinging print already made itself known on the side of his face, the side where the injured eye was obscured by his bangs. To the side, Kureno closed the tiny opening of the window, seeing Akito's bared shoulder shiver. He retained his silent role.

'You usually don't ignore me, Hatori. Why are you being rude? I don't like it when you're rude like this. Be nicer. I'll like it when you're nicer.'

Akito knelt right in front of him, face peering curiously into his, like an owner looking for the perfect doll.

'What do I do to become nicer, Akito?' Hatori monotonously said, eyes gazing emptily at the floor. He didn't know or feel it, but he was shaking. It was odd, though. He wasn't angry. Or afraid. Was the cold that bad?

'Look at me when I'm talking to you,' Akito growled, roughly seizing Hatori's face to face her own. Their eyes locked; one set was alight, cunning, and beautiful, the other was carefully closed off, but if one looked closely enough, they would see the tiny cracks in them, little breaks. Akito smiled a little smile. Hatori breathed deeper, feeling spindly fingers of a demon crawl down his back. It was breathtaking to look into the soul of Akito Sohma, like witnessing a beautiful woman undress, only to see a gun pointed at her head by her own hand.

'Yes, Akito.'

She looked at him for a long moment, eyes the tiniest amount squinted, grip the tiniest amount relaxed. She gazed pleasantly at the perfection of his face, of his skin, and of his lips. Hatori did not flinch or react when she kissed him. Nor did he retaliate when she slithered a hand to the back of his head and wrenched his hair, exposing his neck. The only sign that Hatori Sohma knew what was happening was when his eyes roamed to Kureno in the corner; a guarded, challenging gaze. He failed, however, to see the scowl on the Rooster's face, almost completely hidden in the shadow.

'Mm, you're very beautiful, darling Hatori,' Akito breathed, kissing his neck one last time before pulling away and standing up. She tugged her kimono back over her bare shoulder, hair a-swish and haunting smile still in place.

'Of course, who wouldn't think you're a pretty person, Hatori? They would be lying. Liars don't make very pretty people. Liars hide things from their loved ones. Liars, liars, liars.' She walked to the window and slid it open, slender fingers lingering on the latch. Calm, frozen air crawled in, wisps of secrets people had forgotten to keep that day. She inhaled the air for a moment, face in rapture, and then slammed the window shut, cracking a portion of the glass. 'Liars are dirty creatures. Dirty creatures that don't deserve to be on this Earth with perfect you, and perfect me.'

She laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. It wasn't a cold one either. Hatori couldn't place it, but it gave him a feeling of foreboding, and fear.

'Isn't that right, Kureno?'

She looked fondly at the Rooster, who inclined his head once.

'You see,' she said lightly, bringing her gaze back to Hatori's face, 'Kureno takes care of me. But he isn't perfect. Oh, no. No one can be as perfect as you and I, and my precious Yuki.' She knelt again and placed a gentle hand on Hatori's jaw, cradling his face; a cradle to the grave. 'Even though Kureno is ugly, I still keep him. Why? Because perfect people need imperfect people to keep them perfect.' She stood again, looking down at him. Her hair tickled her bare shoulders, fluttering in a wind that was not supposed to be there. 'We need imperfection to keep perfection.' She walked to the door, her slow footsteps like the tick of Death's clock to the Dragon. 'That's why she's here, Hatori.'

Akito violently grabbed someone from the shadows of the doorway and threw her to the ground, directly in front of Hatori. It was a delicate woman, with brown hair, and caring eyes. But right now, those eyes had its persona stolen, replaced with a different one: fear, and the feeling when you know that you know something, but just can't quite place it. Can't quite remember. Can't quite figure out. It was dancing a fast waltz around your train of thought. Faster and faster and faster.

Hatori felt his heart throb the moment he heard her voice cry out from pain. He knew that voice. He knew. His hands clenched and his knuckles turned white. A human being could only take so much, and Hatori felt so much less like a human being that the burden of life was almost there in its task of breaking him. He fell forward, hands down, hair hanging, eyes tightly shut. As he struggled to find himself amidst everything, he found two faces that made his heart ache and angry and scream memory at the same time.

Akito's smile grew wider as he watched the woman scramble from the floor and little ways away from Hatori. Kureno was there to prevent her from bolting. Eyes once insatiable in understanding now were bloodshot and glassy. Hands once shaped to God's perfection, were now dry and shaking. Her hair hung around her thin frame, not having been cut for years, an ugly mass of memory. Her lips were chalked, even bleeding a little.

'You remember, don't you, Hatori?'

The Dragon let out a breath that shook, no matter how much he tried to control it.

'Don't you, my Dragon? Her name's Kana Sohma.'

'What are you doing here?'

Tohru jumped back at the straightforward tone, curling into herself. She whirled around to the source of the voice, prepared to excuse herself to the end of time. She sighed, relieved, that it was Rin who spotted her lurking in Sohma estate, and not anyone else.

Rin stood there, arms crossed, weight on one leg and one eyebrow arched. Tohru took her stance the wrong way and immediately bowed, sputtering an apology. The Horse made an impatient noise and waved away the formalities with a long hand. She demanded what Tohru was doing here again.

'I, uh, you see, uh, Rin, I need to – to talk to you about … about something that –'

'Ah, yes, I understand you completely.' Light tone. Fluttery voice.

Tohru's eyes brightened.

'Really?'

'No.' Deadpanned.

Rin jammed her hands into her pocket. She crouched on the ground, looking up at Tohru with spunk. 'Can you talk, you know, in complete sentences? If you can manage, that is,' she added for measure. She stood and shifted her weight on one leg again, causing creases in the loose pants she had donned on for the day. The wind nipped at her bare midriff and shoulders. Her long hair provided little to no warmth, almost as much warmth as the corset-like clothing covering (or lack of it) her torso.

'Can we – can we talk at your house?' Tohru trekked cautiously, eyes wide. 'If – if it's not too much trouble, of course. But if it is, we can just talk here, but I don't think other people should hear –'

Rin was growing tired of the stutters and nervousness. She rolled her eyes.

'Oh, for God' sake, let's go.'

She roughly passed Tohru, who followed her, looking over her shoulder for a reason she herself didn't know.

'So. Spit it out.'

Rin locked her door and turned around, arms crossed, eyes hard and stance guarded.

Tohru blurted the first thing that came into her mind.

'How are things between you and Hatsuharu?'

Rin's eyes flashed and she started toward Tohru, fists already clenched. She caught herself just in time and stopped, hair swaying dangerously, like a hanged bodies from nooses. Her eyes were harder and colder than ever.

'If that's what you're here to yap about; get out. I don't want to hear about that Cow.'

'I'm sorry! That's not why I came to you! I'm so sorry!'

Her wide eyes were enough to soften even Rin's heart. The older girl sighed emptily and fell on her bed, eagle-spread and staring at the ceiling. A silent moment passed between them with Tohru apprehensively folding together her hands and Rin scrutinizing the roof.

'What is it, really, that you want from me? It isn't often that you come, and I'd prefer it that way, but right now you interest me. Tell me, is it Yuki? Or Kyo?' Her voice was deadpanned. Tohru blinked.

'I – err, they're both fine but I don't know what that has to do with –'

'Yeah, yeah.' Rin rolled her eyes again. Typical Tohru. 'Spit it out. What do you want?'

Rin rolled over onto her stomach and grabbed a magazine from her bookshelf. Idly flicking, her face showed no sign of interest into whatever speech Tohru was about to engage in, leaving the latter looking on nervously, hesitant. Another moment passed. Rin rolled her eyes and shut the magazine. She threw her hair over one shoulder and propped her arm on the bed, resting her chin on her hand. She made a sarcastic face, eyeing Tohru carefully for typical signs.

'Well?'

Tohru started, blinking rapidly. She launched into her story, telling Rin how Ayame had come to stay with them for a little while and how Shigure had told her he was suffering from a broken something. He didn't know what it really was and that she was to make lovely soup for them all so he could get better. She told Rin how she talked a little with Ayame while Shigure talked with Hatori outside. She recounted of how distracted Ayame was, how incomplete and dreamy he was. She told in great detail Yuki and Kyo going to have a fight and agreeing on it and how Hatori wouldn't answer his phone and that everything confused her so much that she, for one moment, wished her Mother could come back and give her advice.

Rin's face stayed neutral, or as Rin-like, through Tohru's emotional tirade.

'Hmm, that's odd. I know the Hatori's busy and all, but he never misses any phone calls. He even answers Shigure's calls, for the love of –' she stopped, her eyes catching something in the distance.

Someone was walking slowly toward Akito's house, head bowed, hair obscuring her face. Rin's eyes narrowed. She had seen her before, but where? Before she could get a closer look, the woman disappeared inside. Rin stared for a while, thinking, remembering. Not quite knowing why, she shivered and rubbed her arms. Her eyes riveted back to Tohru, who was fidgeting with her fingers.

'Anyway. Why're you so worried about it all? It's not like anyone's dead or anything.' Rin laughed, tucking black hair behind her ears. The many silver piercings there caught the light outside, making them wink. For some reason, Tohru saw them as deceiving eyes. She frowned.

'I don't know why it's troubling me … but I thought I'd come to you. You're a very honest person, Rin, and I thought you could tell me what you think about – about it all. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, but I thought I should –' she added hastily, eyes widening.

'I think you're going insane and that you should go home. Sorry, but that's what I'm thinking right now,' Rin added, not meaning to sound mocking. 'Yuki and Kyo are retards when they fight like kids. Shigure's a manipulative bastard, we all know that. Ayame's a drama queen, and frankly, I don't care about him. As for Hatori, he has enough problems of his own to fill entire textbooks with. As for you, you should just go home and prepare dinner, or something.'

'But – but, are you sure?'

Rin shrugged nonchalantly, smirking a little.

'Who cares? Now go.'

She ushered Tohru out of her room, her house, and the estate.

Before shutting the gates on her, Rin said, with a crooked smile and an arched eyebrow:

'Don't kill yourself worrying about it. When secrets come out, they come out. Wait for it – it probably won't be long.'

.ends goes chappie six.