Disclaimer: I do not own X. I own Sei-Sei's cat.
Author's Thanks 1: To Whitesakura the co-writer, to Irresistibly Cruel the wise advisor.
Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than the those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.
Also many thanks to my beta, Cait-hime-sama(-dono)
Author's Thanks 2: To Sloverpink from Nancy from Polaris from and LadyYienKing from Language and lime.
Author's Notes: This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.
Disclaimer 2: This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.
Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the characters has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be.
Chapter 6 – Yaoi
'Wrong.
'Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, Wr-fucking-ong!
'What's wrong! Everything's wrong!
'Everything spun out of place and grew fucking twisted and….and….and so fucking wrong!'
'Well, what did you expect, you idiot? People are obviously going to die in this Battle of the Apocalypse, what made you think yours won't!'
'But Saiki….Saiki, man, he wasn't even supposed to be fighting! I told him to stay put with the CEO guy and he didn't! What on earth made him go out of that room! What on earth made him think he could take Fuma on!'
'Ah, so now you're saying he deserves it?'
Kamui stopped pacing in the black void of his dreamscape and glared upwards as if his inner voice came from there.
'Oh, just shut up already.
'And god damn it why did Fuma have to kill him like that! Is he turning psycho or something? What was up with putting Saiki's head on the banister like that? What was up with holding the body until I was there, then hurling it at me? God fuck it!'
Kamui tried kicking his leg free from the strange metal wires insistently wrapped around his ankle and shin. Since when does he dream of loose wires wrapped around him! He was naked, which was uncomfortable, and absolutely entangled by wires.
Kamui feared they might tighten and slice him into tiny flesh pieces like Kotori.
'Ah! You remember her name! Well, at least you kept some of your sanity.'
"Aaaaaaaaarg!"
'Fuma didn't speak to me. Well, technically he did, but he didn't –speak- to me. He was full of the usual bullshit destiny talk and nothing more.
'Did it have anything to do with how I punched my arm through his shoulder? Was he mad at that? No, he looked pretty calm about it. ..
'Fuma pulled my arm out and placed it on his chest where his heart is.'
"Here is where you should aim."
'Bullshit! Like I want to kill you, Fuma, you aught to know me better by now.'
He doesn't know you love him, idiot, Seishiro does.'
"Bastard! Shut up! I hate you!"
'Do you have any idea how childish you sound?'
"La la la, I can't hear you…"
'Fuma blew me onto a concrete slab and then did nothing. NOTHING! I mean what a great opportunity is that, huh? There were even some loose metal strips under me, Fuma could have easily bent them to bind me….but he didn't do anything….he just looked down at me and babbled something about carving my heart out and eating it.
'Fuma….what's wrong? Your eyes were so cold when you looked at me, so distant….'
'Maybe because you're tainted, already deflowered. Couldn't wait for him, could you? Now, who'd want someone else's used toy?'
"Shut up! I had no way of knowing it was Seishiro that first time!"
'I suppose, but what about all the other times?'
"I said I'm not listening to you and that's exactly what I'm doing right now! Piss off!"
There was someone else in the dreamscape. A woman. No…yes!
The kimono clad blond tilted his head sideways with deeply worried eyes. His frown was frantic.
"The strings, they're loose…."
'Definitely a man, such a deep voice, what's he doing here? Oh wait; it's Kakyou, isn't it?'
"What do you want?"
Kakyou flinched a bit and blinked quickly, as if trying to get a better perspective of Kamui.
"N-nothing, I-I….I wanted to tell you something…."
Yama nashi
Kamui opened his eyes.
Someone's holding his hand. Shit, it's Subaru.
"Subaru?"
The onmyouji seemed startled to be caught in the act of holding his leader's hand.
'Oh, right, when he first woke up after losing his eye I was there holding his hand. God, it feels like it was ages ago!'
"How do you feel, Kamui?" Subaru's voice is so calm and smooth. This time it's got some warmth in it, even though his eyes are showing that he's in one of those extreme dreamy states where he doesn't really think straight.
Kamui tried to sit up and felt like a jagged iron clamp shut on his chest.
"O-oh! What is that!" he managed to huff as Subaru gently pushed him back to the mattress.
"It's too early for you to get up; your ribs are still broken."
Kamui looked away from Subaru because he was crying and he really didn't feel like having an emotional conversation right now. Somehow, he felt one coming anyway because all the things in his chest were burbling and spinning and heating up and soon he'll have to spew them out or he'll die.
"Fuma…." His whimper came out crooked, "Fuma fought me again….he didn't even talk to me much…."
Subaru's palm squeezed Kamui's. His skin is always so soft and warm, like a mother's hand.
"He broke my ribs….he really hurt me this time…." Kamui couldn't talk anymore. The whimpers and sobs did a better job at conveying what he felt.
"Fuma….he knows….why else would he treat me so roughly?"
"Knows?" that smooth, calm voice shattered Kamui's talkative mood into a million splinters, "Knows about what?"
Wiping his eyes quickly, moving against his chest's complaints, Kamui turned his face back to Subaru's and plastered a smile on his lips.
"N-nothing….uh….m-my heart's true wish….that's all….yeah…."
Subaru didn't look convinced, but by now Kamui knew the man enough to realize that in his current state he'll forget about it in a minute or so.
A gentle rap on the door; Sorata and Arashi walked in. They got him out of Shinjuku, he aught to thank them or something. Work on his social skills.
That's right, Kamui needs to work on himself because the latest events pushed him off his course and he won't have it.
He's been neglecting his duty, lying to his best friend and co-workers, skipping school, skipping patrols and generally being a horny, mischievous brat.
Well, all that's going to change because he's not going to set his foot in that sin lair anymore, oh no, sir, not him! He's a better Kamui now because reality got knocked into his head some and he got the hint.
Fuma hates him for fucking around, so, to be a good boy and win Fuma's attention again, he's going to completely quit going to Seishiro's place and not even the most painful of morning erections will convince him otherwise.
'We'll see…'
For now he must focus on what's going on around him because he's been spacing out so much he didn't notice how Hinoto became one freaky bitch!
Damn, what was that face he saw? The grinning, evil smiling face? Was that Hinoto? For real?
"A face we must hide. I do not know who he had in mind." And wham! She left the dreamscape.
Strange. Kamui never heard Hinoto use such a deep, meaningful voice. Hers was always light and flowing like water, never so heavy and deep. She was hinting something, but what.
Oh no. She knows. Of course she does! She sees everything! She knows about him! Shit.
Then again, what could she do about it? If she wanted to do something she would have done it by now, wouldn't she?
Kamui looked out the window. It was a nice midsummer noon outside, the kind with sweet hot air and the heavy scent of flowers on the wind. The sunset will soon paint the sky in a cherry pink hue and everyone will feel like sighing about how beautiful the hour is.
Cherry pink.
Cherry.
No, he's a better Kamui now, he promised.
Kamui looked at the large doors to his room; must think of something else, anything.
Why on earth do they make doors so large in here? Why are all the rooms he sees so large, anyways? It's not a Japanese style, it's not even a modern style. It's some strange old European style and Kamui doesn't like it.
Kamui likes original Japanese things like koi fish and stone gardens and bonsai trees and samurais and geishas and sliding doors and tatami mattresses and seasonal food and star festivals and one finger socks and katanas and mount Fuji and sumo wrestling and wearing a different pair of slippers to the toilet and ramen food stands and paper walls and white day and cherry blossoms.
Not cherry blossoms.
'I missed the last cherry blossom season, I didn't know how to fully appreciate it at the time.
'Subaru didn't, he was like an extra nervous version of himself; always on the lookout, always giddy and jumpy and cranky. I wonder if anybody else noticed he was like that….'
'Cherry blossoms aren't all that bad. Actually they're really pretty with how they're either really white or really pink and they scatter everywhere like snow. The little petals fall from the flower and down they go.
'Down. Down. Down. They get caught in your hair and you need to brush it off or you don't have to really because it's pretty.'
Black hair cut short but elegantly, laden with pink cherry blossom petals. The pink leaves adorn the black haired head like a crown. The man with near-pink hair smiles softly, emptily. One eye faking a smile, the other stares forward with its blank whiteness.
He's thinking about Seishiro again. God damn it.
Kamui sat up in his bed. His chest didn't complain too much if he moved softly enough. All he has to do is avoid sudden movements and he's practically healed!
He leaped off the bed and looked for his original clothes. His old set of Clamp Campus uniforms was torn and dirty, a new set aught to be here somewhere.
Bingo!
Kamui pulled his clothes on, moving as softly as he could. Well, it's not like taking them off is going to be his problem, hah.
His palm was already on the window's handle, about to push down and open it to leap into a bit of quick freedom.
'Thought you were the new Kamui…'
'When will you learn to shut up, huh?'
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Seishiro's door was locked. When he knocked there was no one there.
Damn it. He doesn't have much time before someone walks into his sickroom and finds him missing.
'Open the door you arrogant idiot, I know you're in there, I can hear you talking on the other end!'
Placing his palm before the lock, Kamui worked his powers and unlocked it. He grabbed the handle and pushed hard, preparing to storm in and bitch at Seishiro for trying to ignore him.
What could be more important that he can't open the door? If he's on the phone he could have just opened it while talking.
Maybe he has someone there with him! Oh that's just g-r-e-a-t! Kamui'd enjoy hissing at whoever it is until they run away and Seishiro will only have….
'Mommy…..'
Kamui gawked at the barrel of a gun placed so closely before his eyes. Kamui tried to blink but it was still there.
Its strange how he's been in mortal danger so many times, but only when he's looking into the barrel of a gun does he feel the very much vivid shock of his life about to end. It must have been the cold hard cruel grey of the barrel's metal, or that deep endless black void in the middle.
"M-mommy …." Kamui whimpered before he could stop himself. Tears came flooding in next and soon he'd be grabbing his head and running away screaming. Why on earth was there a black suit clad man with black sunglasses (who wasn't Seishiro) standing at Seishiro's door pointing a gun at him!
"Who is it? Oh, leave him alone please; he's got nothing to do with this." Seishiro's calm voice came from inside the apartment.
The barrel didn't move from Kamui's face, the man holding the gun didn't even flinch.
Seishiro turned his head to the leader of the government agents, "Tell your ape to put his gun down and let the boy in. He has no idea about this and will be dealt with as soon as you leave."
The barrel didn't move.
"Inagaki-san, this is pointless; the boy's memory will be dealt with after you leave, trust me."
The man holding the gun turned his head backwards a little to await his commander's words.
Kamui began snapping out of his shock and realized that he can rip this idiot into tiny shreds with his power if he wants to. No, he wanted to stay threatened because it made Seishiro talk about him, describe what he is and there was nothing Kamui wanted more at the moment than that.
"The boy's supposed to be my successor and you're risking his chances of wanting to do my job….He can easily turn on his heels and run off if he's standing at the doorway, at least let him in."
"Taka." An old man's voice came from the apartment and the agent with the gun moved away from Kamui's eyesight.
Seishiro's eyes were soft and cynical, "Come inside, boy, sit down."
Kamui obeyed, toeing off his shoes and walking to the sofa Seishiro sat on, plopping into it between Seishiro and the black cat.
He scrutinized the white haired man sitting on the respectful one seat sofa Seishiro usually liked to claim as his. He was leaning into the furniture like most arrogant leading manly figures do, tilting his head backwards a bit to look down at everyone. He was sporting a perfectly round large belly and a pair of sluggish, fat, hairy arms which seemed to offend the expensive black leather of the sofa so used to Seishiro's toned muscular elegant arms. His yukata was mundane; grey and black patterns of wind whirls with a touch of light blue.
Kamui tried to give the man a cancelling bored glare and found he was looking into a murderer's eyes. They were so superior, cold and educating that Kamui felt humiliated just by thinking he could bitch-glare at him and get away with it.
So, he looked away at the black cat instead. It was curled up into a ball in the very middle of the board cushion like it knew exactly at which spot the foam under the leather would be the softest.
Kamui ran his palm on the silky smooth fur and woke the cat up.
It jerked its head up and scrutinized Kamui's palm. The palm just healed from the cat's damage and Kamui didn't fear more damage to it one bit, after all, he had a good time getting Seishiro to treat him, didn't he?
The cat yawned, stretching its jaws as far apart as it could while exposing two curving rows of sharp white teeth.
Kamui placed his finger between the open jaws and giggled as the cat slammed his mouth closed and jerked away at the sensation of an unexpected object in his mouth. It spun its ears backwards, sharpening its yellow eyes' pupils into two angry slits.
Kamui placed his palm on the round fat hill of the cat's belly and folded rear leg.
The cat folded himself towards Kamui and slammed its paw on the leather where Kamui's palm was a moment ago. Its unsheathed claws got caught in the leather, forcing the cat to wiggle its paw and release itself in an undignified manner.
"What have I told you about playing with the cat, boy?" Seishiro's angry voice boomed behind Kamui with such a level of rebuke it frightened Kamui. "Never on the sofa! Are you going to pay for leather to be replaced?"
Kamui turned around to face Seishiro and gaped at him. The other man's eyes were so angry and cruel and the mere presence of these emotions knocked Kamui into silent shock.
"Are you sure this boy will be your successor?" the older man butted into the conversation, "He seems, unfit for the part."
Seishiro responded to the remark with silence. Instead, he leaned forward to the coffee table and jotted his signature at the bottom of the contract laid there.
"Is there anything else you need of me?"
The old man grabbed the armrests of his sofa and pushed himself off it with some effort. "No. We'll be visiting you again next month."
Seishiro climbed to his feet too, as if he was a good host about to bid his guests goodbye. "Next month? You really are serious about this 1999 thing, aren't you?"
The old man, whose coat, hat and briefcase were brought from the rack by the door, turned away from the three bodyguard agents who attended to his belongings and gave Seishiro a cold sneering stare across his shoulder.
"This is a dangerous year, Sakurazuka-kun, you might die on us at any moment. We need to monitor you and make sure you're not dead so we'll know when to make a new Sakurazukamori to sign those contracts for us."
Without waiting for Seishiro to reply, the man motioned for the agent who pointed his gun at Kamui to open the door.
He seemed to be so fat and arrogant in his moves that he hovered out of the door like a bobbing cloud.
Kamui stared at Seishiro with his half a step taken towards the door and his clenched fists at the sides of his body. He was not sure how he should react to what he just saw. He didn't think it was his place to do it, as cheeky as he's supposed to be in this little game of power they play every time.
Ah, what the heck.
"Sakurazuka-kun?"
Seishiro narrowed the distance between them before Kamui could blink, his eyes were indifferent and cold. He smacked Kamui across his cheek which pushed him sideways onto the sofa.
Kamui's ribs complained. He had to wiggle gently to change position without too much pain. Bastard!
"That was for the holes in my leather sofa."
'Yeah, right.'
"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir."
Seishiro, who was staring off towards the kitchen as if about to go there and prepare himself something, turned his head slowly to look down at the boy lying on his sofa with heating lustful eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of the assassin's lips. It echoed, a complete duplication of Seishiro's smirk, on Kamui's eyes.
"Get up."
Kamui complied, peeling himself off the sofa softly while avoiding too much use of his arms. When he used his arm muscles too much his ribs sent painful stabs deep into his chest.
Seishiro ran his eyes over the boy from top to bottom, the pleased smirk spreading on his lips. He bent to the coffee table and reached for the stereo system remote.
The music he played was cold and electronic, the bases so deeply sounded they felt like thumps in Kamui's chest.
Unbuttoning Kamui's shirt, Seishiro's hand dropped away to his side like a dead limb. The assassin's eyes grew cold and hard again.
"You're injured?"
Kamui frowned a bit, a nagging suspicion tugging at his mind, "Yeah, but it's nothing, just a small flesh wound…"
Seishiro turned away from him and walked to the kitchen, "Not interested. Go home boy, I won't be playing with you today."
"What! Why!"
"You're injured," Seishiro's voice was bored and careless, "Not fit. You won't be able to do your best and you'll become a nuisance. Go home and come back when there's nothing broken in you."
Kamui was so struck he was unable to talk for a few minutes. All he did was lean forward a bit, clench his fists backwards and keep his mouth open in case something smart would come out of it.
"B-but….I'm fine! I can play, come on."
Seishiro was brewing himself a cup of coffee. He threw a bored glance at Kamui across his shoulder, "Not interested. Go home before I throw you out."
"Throw me out! You….why….how….you wouldn't dare!"
"You don't want to try me, boy. Go away, you're becoming an eyesore."
Kamui stomped his foot and growled loudly. "God, why are you being such a prick all of a sudden?"
Placing his mug on the kitchen table, Seishiro poured milk into it while throwing another cancelling glance at Kamui.
"You're damaged goods, boy, now get lost."
Kamui shot out of the apartment three seconds later. He slammed the door behind him and cursed so much both in the apartment and on his way out of its building that he made the tenant he met on his way flush.
He reached the street and stopped as if shocked at the sight of life outside the apartment. He was not used to getting out of here in daytime and the sight of the still bright sky struck him as odd. A dizzy sensation of being disorientated hit him. Kamui bit his lip.
He shot to the air, hopping from one building to the next while leaving a trail of free flowing tears behind him.
"Damaged goods. An eyesore. You'll become a nuisance. Not interested."
'God. Damn. Bastard. I hate him!'
Kamui crashed on the nearest rooftop and crouched into a ball. His ribs' complaints were beyond his care, though he could taste blood in his mouth by now.
Why was Seishiro being such a prick and why on earth does he care so much! It's not like he won't be able to get his piece of fun again once he's healed.
It's just the way Seishiro treated him, so coldheartedly and emotionless. Did he really not expect it from the man who did all those horrible things to Subaru?
Kamui raised his head and slowly climbed back to his feet. He let his feet wander aimlessly on the rooftop, taking him mindlessly around. Forward, to the edge of the building from where he could observe Ebisu Garden Place.
The train station below where he could see Fuma walking around with a can of iced tea which he placed by a trash bin.
Fuma!
Ochi nashi
"Fuma! Fuma! Fuma!" Kamui leaped down to the Garden's floor and ran up to the teen.
Fuma seemed to be taken aback by Kamui's presence and was staring at the boy as if he had just woken up and was still blinking away a dreamscape's last cobs.
Oh, wasn't Fuma the handsomest when dressed so casually? And how fitting are those glasses, though he didn't have the chance to tell him a few days ago when he first saw them on Fuma? The casual loose shirt and jacket, so befitting for his broad muscular body.
Kamui ran up to the bigger man and hardly stopped himself from crushing into him.
He wrapped his arms around Fuma's chest and rested his head tightly on the hard chest, snuggling up to the man as if they were long lost brothers.
"Fuma! I found you! Oh, Fuma, we need to talk so badly."
The Dragon of Earth stared down at Kamui and reached for his arms to try and pull the teen away.
Kamui shrugged the hands off and placed his palms on Fuma's chest, looking up into the dark red eyes with childish pleading innocence.
"I need to talk to you, Fuma, I know you know about what I've been doing lately, but I need to talk to you about it."
The Dragon tried to motion for him to stop, but Kamui didn't feel like listening right now, he had to spill it all out now or he'd explode.
"I sent this letter to you, really, to you, because I wanted you to read it and come to me, but that bastard Seishiro, whom I hate most of all in all the whole wide world, well, he read it and then he came and not you,"
The Dragon began edging the both of them to a nearby gent's room. All this while Kamui wouldn't stop talking.
"And I was blindfolded and bound and I couldn't know it wasn't you and then he did that and I didn't know it wasn't you, I thought it was you, really, I did, please forgive me. Oh, Fuma, can you forgive me? Please, please, please, please."
The Dragon did not answer him. Instead, he looked down at Kamui with icy, cold, expressionless eyes.
Kamui cringed and clung to Fuma's shirt so hard he heard the collar's seams tear a bit, "I know I've seen him again since then, but….but…well…" he looked away, tears streaming down his cheeks, "I-I thought it could be good practice to be with him a little bit and gain some knowledge and….uh….and…."
By then the Dragon stopped trying to shrug Kamui off and simply stood there limply, staring down at Kamui.
Kamui looked up at Fuma and scanned the blank red eyes staring back at him. What was he thinking? What was he plotting? Is he not speaking to convey that he's angry at him and nothing he'll say can change that? Is he not saying anything to hint that it's okay and there's no need for any more explanations?
They were alone in the gent's room; just them, the open five stalls, the toilet seats, the five sink and the mirror.
But of course! How stupid of him not to have realized it earlier! Why would Fuma drag him to the gent's room if not to get some privacy? They could have had this chat outside and easily pass as a couple arguing, nothing too secret was expressed so they could have done this publicly. But Fuma wanted privacy, what's privacy needed for if not for a bit of intimate exchange?
A large childish grin spread on Kamui's face and the flooding tears became warm. He clenched Fuma's shirt once again, after letting it go a bit in the heat of his emotional storm, and dragged Fuma backwards into the second cabin in the row.
He spun around, feeling how limp and unresisting Fuma's boy is, and locked the door behind them.
He pushed Fuma onto the toilet seat and straddled the bigger teen with a bit of a thrust to his pelvis.
Grabbing Fuma's face in his palms and tilting it backwards, Kamui glued his lips to Fuma's. He closed his eyes so as not to see the other man's still open ones, so blank and ever observing.
He thrust his tongue deep into Fuma's mouth and flicked it around using every manoeuvre he learned and invented, every movement his body's great needs and wishes ordered him to perform.
'Look! Look! I'm kissing Fuma! I'm holding Fuma! We're together! We're doing it! Look!
'….'
Fuma did not kiss back, though he kept his mouth open and when Kamui withdrew to shower tiny kisses on his lips he closed his mouth. When Kamui ran his tongue on the soft thin lower lip, Fuma opened his mouth just a bit and when Kamui clung to him tighter to invade his mouth again, he opened it a bit more.
Fuma was cooperating with him if not a bit stiffly. Well of course he would, there were still tensions between them because of what he had done, but these tensions can be slowly, lovingly, eased out.
Kamui let go of Fuma's head and wrapped his arms around that broad back he longed for so much in long nights and agonising boring afternoons. He slid his palms under Fuma's shirt, feeling up the tight skin covering well developed muscles.
His fingers glided across powerful shoulders and stealthy arms, over sturdy chest and ribs, Fuma was absolutely covered in lovely well formed muscles. Kamui reeled at the thought of kissing each and every one of them.
Seishiro had a very similar physique, only his included his head, where his snarling teasing mouth was and that cold, cruel eye.
Kamui didn't want to think about Seishiro now and he didn't want to draw comparisons. Fuma was Fuma, Seishiro was a bastard.
Encouraged by that thought, Kamui charged onto Fuma's body with a full energy blast. He kissed his twin star's mouth more passionately, caressed his body more feverishly, sought out every spot and patch of skin he failed to examine earlier.
The Dragon simply sat there and let the boy do as he wished until he'd finally come to realise.
Come to realise what?
That he wasn't hard. As simple as that.
Fuma was simply unresponsive; he just sat there like a limp doll and refused to make any voluntary movements. He flinched a little bit when Kamui caressed his sides but that was only involuntarily because he was being tickled a bit, but otherwise he showed not a single sign of interest.
Kamui drew away from Fuma, eyes ablaze, dilated, and stopped to recalculate.
Fuma can't be unresponsive, look at all the lovely things he's doing to him!
Hmm, perhaps it's not enough. A half crazed grin itched at the edge of Kamui's lips.
His hands trembled as he unbuttoned and unzipped Fuma's jeans.
The Dragon didn't even look down, instead he was busy observing Kamui as the boy fumbled with his boxers and uncovered his manhood.
He noted the boy's eyes were particularly desperate when as his palm worked on the limp soft penis.
It was annoying, really, whenever his palm was at its base the tip would flop to the side reluctantly, like a child who shrugs sideways in insistent resistance. Kamui decided he'd focus on the sensitive tip, but it kept folding into itself and slipping out.
Ah, perhaps he doesn't like the way his hand isn't lubricated. Damn it, where can he get a lubricant! It's not really a problem because Kamui's used to rough penetration, it is a problem, though, because that must feel uncomfortable for Fuma at the moment and he can't think of penetration if Fuma isn't even hard!
Licking his palm enthusiastically, Kamui noted his mouth was particularly dry today. Nevertheless he managed a nice coat of saliva and resumed his earlier assignment.
Still no response. Fuma's blank stare was beginning to grate on Kamui's nerves.
No, there's nothing wrong, it's alright because at least they're together now and doing what they're currently doing and surely Fuma wouldn't let him get this far if he was still angry at him, right?
Perhaps a different, more pleasurable approach is required. Kamui slid off his friend's lap and kneeled before him on the dim light blue tiled floor.
He looked up at Fuma giving him the best seductive look he could muster with his weary nerves, and placed his palms on Fuma's knees to hint to the other man that he should open his legs.
The Dragon did not move. He sat there with his shirt half pulled up his lovely tanned, well carved stomach, his pants undone and his penis laying limply towards his inner left thigh.
He waited for the boy to finally get it.
Kamui refused to get it. Instead, he pulled Fuma's flaccid legs apart and crawled forward a bit, wrapping his fingers around Fuma's resistant manhood.
Oral sex proved to be no more effective than manual assistance no matter how much Kamui sucked, licked or ran his fingers deeper into Fuma's boxers to gently caress his testicles. Nothing worked. Limp, limp, limp.
Despairing finally, Kamui rested his forehead on Fuma's right thigh, his hand still holding the soft limb, and whimpered.
"W-w-why don't you do anything, Fuma?" he was shocked at the misery of his own voice, how lowly and wretched it came out, "Why won't you respond? Are you that angry at me?"
He looked up into Fuma's face, crying uncontrollably again, "Are you disgusted by me? Do you not find me attractive? Why Fuma? Why?" emotions clamped on his windpipe until he had to cough to breath.
No, no, please, anything but those cold emotionless orbs staring at him. Why won't he speak to him? Kamui wrapped his arms desperately around Fuma's leg, burying his face in the rough jeans, shaking it a bit from time to time.
Arms grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. Oh good! Will he be hugged now? Will Fuma finally tell him he forgives him, that he did all that just to teach him a lesson? Did he wait until Kamui was a complete apologetic wreck and only then would he earn his love?
The Dragon leaned Kamui softly against the cabinet door and rearranged his clothes. Then he unlocked the door and swung it open, nearly tumbling Kamui backwards onto the floor. He pulled at the boy's arm and began dragging him out of the gent's.
Oh, no he won't! This is going to be solved, right here, right now!
Kamui hooked his fingers on the nearest silver faucet, grabbing Fuma's arm back. His eyes were blazing again, lit by a different ambition.
The Dragon turned to look at the teen, his voice coming out cool and deep, "It's over, Kamui, there's nothing more to try and fight for."
"Bullshit!" Kamui gave the arm in his grip another yank. Fuma's shoes made a plasticy screech on the floor, "We're not leaving here until you'll explain to me what on earth just happened! I want answers, why….what…." it's hard to be stubborn when your loved one's eyes look at you so heartlessly cruelly, "Why won't you cooperate? Don't you love me anymore?"
The Dragon sighed and gave Kamui one finally yank which got both the boy and the faucet out of the gent's. He spun Kamui around and hurled him out to the open air. If Kamui hadn't tripped and stumbled he would have been knocked to the ground.
"I never loved you, Kamui, not me, the Dragons of Earth's Kamui. Whatever the boy Fuma felt for you had been wiped out when you made your choice of destiny."
Kamui was grabbing at his hair and shaking his head so feverishly he was drawing attention, a fact that went unnoticed when such cutting words beat at his ears.
"You ask why I won't participate in sexual activity with you, Kamui. It is because sexual activity is irrelevant. It is irrelevant to what I am and what the earth wishes of me." Strings of energy began swirling out of his limbs, shooting off to four empty tea cans he placed around the Garden Place.
"No….no….you love me….you loved me…..I love you…."
"I do not love you, Kamui, there is no room for such things as love in me, only for the earth's cries for revenge over its human children which hurt and cut at her so."
The four cans began vibrating, creating a metallic rattle as they danced on the marble floor. No one noticed them; they were far too small a matter in comparison to the lovely day outside and the sudden gay teen drama playing out under the branch shaped metal decoration hung from the Garden Place's arched roof.
Kamui's knees betrayed him, giving under him shakily. He fell to his knees on the hard marble floor from where he could stare up at the tear blurred Fuma and whimper some more like the dribbling condemned waif that he was.
"So why did you drag me to the toilets? Why did you let me do all those things to you? Oh, Fuma, you're so cruel…"
The earth began to rumble under them as four cans exploded. The Kekkai at Ebisu was cracking and soon this lovely peaceful Garden Place will be nothing but rubble and wreckage.
People flooded out of the station in large panicking masses, pushing and shoving at each other wildly, grabbing at their dearest and yanking them with all they had out of the disaster, like stampeding cattle.
The branch shaped metal decoration's wires were cut by a piece of the roof's broken glass. It landed into the decorative indoor flowerbed creating an explosion of earth, torn plants and tiny rocks all around it. The sheer force of its metal weight and the might of its fall cracked the floor around the flowerbed until the branch became stabbed halfway into the ground.
The Dragon observed his action's results with a calm air of satisfaction. Kamui didn't even try to fight him. He didn't seem to be realizing what was happening here at all. He was so sunk in his little pit of bodily needs and pointless emotions.
He walked up to the boy and kneeled by him, cupping his chin gently. He let his eyes soften in hope of it helping to break the boy out of his little selfish bubble.
"You had a wish, when you were leaping away from the Sakurazukamori's apartment this afternoon; your wish was to clear your heart of the sudden confusion it was caught by. You wanted to know if you should stick to your obsession with me or if you should focus your energies on your sudden emotional interest which grew from your recent actions with the Sakurazukamori.
"You wished to know which of us two deserved your full attention, me or the Sakurazukamori harbinger. I did not reject you, Kamui, I merely noted for you about how your energies are wasted on me."
He raised himself to stand up again when Kamui grabbed his shirt as powerfully as before.
"And y-you," sob, "y-you d-d-don't c-care if…if…if…." Hiccup, "if I just s-stay with S-Sei-ei-eishir-o! Y-y-you wo-wouldn't m-mind?"
"Such actions on your behalf are none of my concern, Kamui, I simply do not care." he ripped at his shirt, leaving Kamui with the shred of his shirt, and leaped away from the crumbling mess.
Kamui's hand shook as he stared at the limp piece of white cloth between his fingers. He had been crying for such a long time now that he was completely blunt to the wet sensation on his face.
Fuma said he didn't care if he was with Seishiro. Fuma said he doesn't love him and even if he once felt it, it was now gone. Fuma said it's irrelevant to him, love, sex, him, he just wanted to destroy things.
Slowly observing the imploding building with dreamy eyes, Kamui decided it was better to stay here and be buried under the rubble. There was nothing more he wished for in life, nothing to fight for, nothing to hope for, nothing to bother and get up in the morning for.
A loose piece of glass from the roof landed on his head horizontally, crushing into tiny particles which became imbedded in his wild hair like a thousand diamonds. It merely made his head bow a little, which didn't matter. He wished the next piece of glass would fall vertically so that it would cut his head off.
His wish was not granted fully; instead of glass, a piece of concrete about half the size of his fist knocked him unconscious.
'Great,' he thought, a moment within the darkness which gnarled at the frames of his vision closing down on him, 'at least I won't be aware of the pain when this shit world comes crashing down on me.'
Imi nashi
Why on earth is he doing this!
It's not like cares about the boy, excellent sex toy or no excellent sex toy, so why save him from the wreckage?
Seishiro didn't know this and preferred to avoid that question as he leaped from one rooftop to the next on his way from Ebisu towards Clamp Campus with the unconscious Dragon of Heaven's Kamui in his arms.
The boy's hair blew in the wind like a shiny black flame, shaking off the particles of glass caught between its bangs. Seishiro looked down at the smooth sleeping face, so beautiful and innocent.
Beautiful young boy. Helpless beautiful young boy, helpless beautiful young boy with shiny unblemished innocence to taint in abundance. The type was always his weakness, as sure as his own time of death.
The habit started in high school, back at Clamp Campus when he practiced his Sakurazukamori killing skills on the soft bodies of first graders and first year middle school kids he freshly raped.
He loved the large frightened eyes, the clouded orbs so confused and miserable. He loved it when they resisted him and when they gave into him. He loved it when they screamed "No" or "Mommy" or "Stop".
He loved it when they picked up his signals and ran away, he loved it even more when they were ahead of their age and cooperated with him. He loved the latter the most because they're the ones who looked betrayed the most when he killed them.
Subaru, sweet nine year old Subaru, in his immaculate white shikifuku, so crisp and soft and plump and fragile to touch. Subaru was the first time Seishiro tested himself to see how much he could delay the pleasure of slowly breaking the boy.
He wanted to give the tiny Sumeragi the same treatment as the other boys, but discovered that by delaying his satisfaction, the pleasure he'd derive from it would only grow. He managed to delay it until Subaru was sixteen, just as fresh, just as innocent and just as beautiful, and then for another year. All that time he sat aside and licked his lips, already tasting the sweet nectar of the boy's torment.
These days Subaru was too thin for him, too ashen by pain and torment and too cracked.
Wait? He thought that up just now because the boy in his arms was far better? No, nothing is better than Subaru, as dim and weary as the Sumeragi grew to be.
Unlike Kamui, Subaru was a long term project, something that took too long to work on to be dumped like that because of the sudden appearance of a shiny new boy-toy in the neighbourhood. He can crush this boy any moment and still the pleasure won't be the same as when he'll punch the last nail into the coffin of Subaru's sanity.
The plan he had of his demise, of Subaru's demise, will remain unchanged no matter how many times he'll fuck this kid.
So why did he just save the boy from certain death? Seishiro didn't know.
He's not quaking, no, he's not beginning to doubt the plan he etched for Subaru and for himself. No, he's not tempted to dump Subaru and work on making this boy his real successor.
Though, god knows the boy has it in him to be a cold blooded murder; the way his mind can be completely consumed by a single idea and goal, the way it makes him blind to anything else, the way he can come ripping through every code of morality the world tries to shackle him with to grab what he wants.
Yes, Kamui has the passion in him to become emotionless and cruel. He has great power in him; enough to become one of the best Sakurazukamoris ever created during history.
Seishiro is sure that when they get down to it, Kamui will have absolutely no problem comprehending the need to kill one Sakurazukamori for the sake of a new one born. He was certain Kamui will not be the type to whimper and sob and cling to his living loved one, that he will have no trouble understanding how brilliant it is to die by the hand of the one you love.
Would he love Kamui when he dies and gives away his title? No.
Does he love Subaru enough to die by him? Seishiro doesn't know.
All he knows is how deeply it will cut Subaru to kill the man he loves with his own hands when his wish is the complete opposite.
It will cut Subaru deeply to see Kamui as his successor and to discover what had been going on between them, but will it be that deeply? Will it scar him as much as his original plan would?
No, Seishiro didn't want to think about it. It meant too many changes of plan and too many new risks rising. Leaving the Sakura in the unsure hands of a half demented Subaru (and he will be half demented by then) troubled Seishiro enough as it is.
What would Subaru grow to be if he was betrayed so by Kamui replacing him? Surely he might go astray enough to fully burn away any love he once had for him. Subaru might become fully vengeful and that would become a problem for the young Sakurazukamori Kamui.
If so, then all hell might break loose and he won't be there to set things straight. Kamui will probably kill Subaru to survive and that's simply unacceptable for Seishiro. Either that or Subaru will kill Kamui and become the next Sakurazukamori according to plan.
Only it won't be according to plan, will it? Because Subaru will not see his new title as a kind of twisted legacy from him, he'll see it as a nuisance he did not plan to take on.
If he dies by Subaru's hand, the Sakurazukamori title will be perceived as a gift, as something to cling to as the last trace of his beloved Seishiro-san.
If it is be Kamui, who stabbed Subaru in the back, who gives Subaru the Sakura title the onmyouji will surely discard it and end the long lineage.
Seishiro will be dead and out of the action, helpless to turn it to the direction he plotted. No, Kamui replacing Subaru will simply not fit. End of doubts, end of discussion.
So why is he still holding the boy and carrying him toward Clamp Campus!
Drop him already, Sakurabaka, drop him and end this ridiculous, pointless relationship.
Kamui's hair flared upwards as he descended lower into the city. They were at such altitude that when he hits the ground he will surely explode with the sheer might of his fall.
It'd be a shame; such a perfectly beautiful body splattered on the ground. Seishiro liked his boys to be perfect and complete in their death save for the inevitable hole in the chest and scattered random cuts or bites he inflicted on them while they were still breathing. He liked to linger on by their bodies and observe the dead face, suddenly peaceful as if in sleep.
But that doesn't matter because Kamui was out of reach by now, past the line of buildings and nearing the fatal ground more and more with each passing second.
His Kamui will be upset as well. After all, the boy's death belongs to him. He will simply not hear the end of it.
Shit.
God he hates doing this.
A group of high school girls out for a bit of ice-cream before going back home were nearly frightened out of their wits when they noted the frail body of a boy coming closer and closer to them from above, about to crush them.
They were completely scared into scattering away from the spot with screams of panic and alarm when a huge black falcon zoomed towards them and snatched the boy by the edge of his shirt and at the waistband of his school uniform, plucking him from sure death.
Kamui woke for a few minutes to note the large beastly bird and smiled sweetly before passing out again.
The shiki finished its master's course to Clamp Campus.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When Kamui opened his eyes he saw the canopy of his Clamp Campus hospital bed. The exact same vision he found when he opened his eyes after the last coma.
Strange, was it all a dream? Seishiro cruelly dismissing him? The fat ugly man in his apartment? Fuma refusing him? The earthquake at Ebisu? Seishiro's shiki saving him?
Seishiro's shiki saving him!
No, that doesn't make sense, does it? Seishiro dismissed him, said he didn't want him, said he's not interested. So why did he save him?
'Now stop! Stop right there, you're not going to suck yourself into another pointless emotional whirlpool again, not if I have anything to do with it!'
Kamui was by now too weary to fight the voice. He let it speak as he stared mindlessly out the window from which he left into hell's greatest confusion. How long has it been since he was returned anyway?
'That doesn't matter now; listen to me for a minute, will you?'
Sigh, 'What do you want?'
'Sakurazuka Seishiro is a cold hearted bastard, are you fully aware of it?'
'I knew it from the moment Subaru told me what he'd done to him, yeah, what else is new?'
'You're not going to take this sudden reach for assistance by him as any sign of emotions from that creep, do you understand?'
'Hey, he did save me when he didn't have to, why would he….'
'Because you're his sex toy, that's why! Get it into your thick skull already!'
'I don't know….'
'He-doesn't-love-you!'
Kamui was growing sleepy. He snuggled deeper into his duvet and cringed at his still aching ribs. 'Hmn, sure, fine, whatever.'
'Kamui! Listen to the voice of reason for once in your life!'
'Currently the voice of reason is keeping me awake, thus keeping me from properly having a good rest which my dire health is in great need of.'
'You damn ungrateful brat, listen to me, god damn it!'
'Goodnight.'
"Kamui!"
Kamui snapped his eyes open, jerking his head off the pillow with fear tainted surprise.
Karen and Seiichiro were standing at the door, staring at him with the kind of look Kamui preferred to never see in the eyes of adults. The 'We know you did it now all we need is a confession' look Kamui met one time too many during the more troublesome times of his early youth.
Kamui gave them a weary, dramatic, angst ridden stare.
Bull's-eye, they walked up to his bed with far softer looks, far smoother movements, changing their slight suspicious behavior into mere harmless parental worry.
They're his loving Seals again, his ignorant lambs.
Karen sat on the bed by his feet, placing a gentle palm by his leg. Seiichiro straightened his glasses and shoved his hands into his pockets awkwardly. Disarmed, harmless, perfect.
"Kamui," Karen's smile was that of a school counselor about to ask the school bully if he's experiencing troubles at home, "about what happened three days ago…."
Kamui gaped at her, "W-was that three days ago! And I've been sleeping all this time?"
"Yes, you had a lot to rest from, Kamui." Seiichiro took a small step closer to the bed.
"Look, Kamui, I know how much you feel obliged to do this year and I really don't know what the other Seals expect of you, or tell you, or hint at you, but…" Karen jerked her head sideways, anger bursting like flame in here deep pink eyes again.
Uh-oh, what now?
Seiichiro's face gravened as well, his eyes sharpening. They seemed to have snuck into his room while Arashi and Sorata weren't on the lookout to have this conversation with him. Why would they want the other Seals not to hear it? What do they, the adults, have to talk to him about, but things the other Seals, the 'kids', might not already know about.
It has to be Seishiro; it has to be what happened at Ebisu. He was a complete idiot for not thinking of the possibility that one of them might have been around to see something, anything that might have tipped them off to what he was working so hard to hide from them.
"You see, you sneaking out of your sickroom before you even had the chance to properly heal…" Karen's voice was heating up as well, her angered eyes turning to him.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! Why must everything come tumbling down on him in one go!
"…And going out every evening on patrols, alone…"
Fuck! Fu-ck!
"You simply can't keep working yourself out like that! Look at what you've gotten yourself into the last two times, Kamui, you're killing yourself!"
…….
What?
Seiichiro laid a calming hand on Karen's shoulder, his eyes so fatherly and soft it hurt Kamui to look at them. "All we're saying is that we're seven Dragons of Heaven for a reason. The reason is that we're that many so that we can help each other out."
Kamui blinked at them and felt his eyes tearing again. He was so relieved that he felt a sudden gush of love for them. If he leaps at them, to hug them in thanks for being so blissfully ignorant, what will they do?
"Just….stop going out alone like that, Kamui, we know it's hard for you, but….working yourself so, it's just too much." Karen's eyes wrapped loving arms around the boy on the bed, "Please, give yourself some slack and rest for a while, you've done so much already."
Wiping at his eyes, Kamui nodded, trying to smile through his trembling lower lip and tears. "Alright. I won't go out on patrols late at night anymore."
"You won't?" Seiichiro sounded surprised, "Do you promise?"
Kamui nodded. "Don't worry, that's all over now I've had enough of…uh…I'm…I'm just too tired that's all…." Shit, nearly stumbled there, idiot.
"And you will call us next time you get into a fight with Fuma over a Kekkai? You wouldn't face it alone like you did in Shibuya and Shinjuku?"
"I promise. Thank you, Karen-san, Aoki-san."
"A-alright Kamui…." Karen exchanged surprised stares with Seiichiro and got up, about to leave.
Kamui followed them with his eyes, waiting for them to leave so he can finally catch his nap. This is a dangerous situation and he's definitely not fit to lie so blatantly in his condition.
Just before they left, Seiichiro turned to Kamui, poking his head through the gap between the doors.
"By the way, Kamui," he said with a strange light in his eyes, "we still haven't found Yuzuriha-chan." He closed the door behind him.
Kamui gaped at the closed doors. Yuzuriha? She was missing? Fuck, right! Since Shinjuku.
Shit, how could he forget that! What the fuck's been wrong with him!
'Hormones, that's what. And by the way, they are so onto you.'
'Doesn't matter now because I'm going to quit meeting that bastard, so that's okay. I'm a good boy now, no running off to night patrols and no showdowns alone with Fuma. Yup, I'm a new Kamui.'
'Tssk, that's what you said last time…'
'Goodnight.'
"Well, that went easier than planned. I was absolutely sure he'd try to argue with us about wanting to find Fuma alone…"
Seiichiro didn't answer Karen; instead he leaned on the doors to his leader's sickroom and frowned.
"Karen-san….there's something we're missing here…"
The fire master turned around to look at the man. "Missing something? What do you mean?"
"Something's going on with Kamui and it's got nothing to do with the Battle. Something's distracting him."
Karen frowned, looking down at the floor.
'Subaru' for a safe word. It twinkled in her mind for a moment before she shrugged it off. What's that got to do with anything! What's Kamui to do with it! Nothing. It's ridiculous to even think about it.
Kamui's far too innocent to even know what a safe word is.
No, she'll dismiss it. There must be another Subaru in this city. Yeah, it's not that much of an uncommon name and even if it was this city contains so many people it's only logical it'd contain at least one more Subaru than the Sumeragi she knows.
"What do you think distracts Kamui, Karen-san?" Seiichiro's voice tore her out of her thoughts.
She mouthed a bit before shaking her head gently and shrugging, "Oh, I don't know. You have to remember that his life isn't as easy as ours; anything could distract him, from his family being eliminated systematically before his eyes to his friends meeting the same fate. Hell, even school can be distracting enough for a boy his age and that's completely understandable.
"We really aught to not judge him for phasing out a bit, after all, we can never even begin to imagine the pain he's going through."
"True, true. Oh, you're right, Karen-san; I'm just being a big goofy worrywart. Come, you must be late for work."
Karen shot a lightheaded giggle into the grim air of the hospital ward, hurrying to cover her mouth politely. "You're such a gentleman, Aoki-san, come, let's leave the boy alone."
Seiichiro didn't really leave Kamui alone. Inside, he was slowly analyzing the blank look he caught in Kamui's eyes as he told him about Yuzuriha.
It'll take him time to work out that not only was Kamui completely ignorant about what happened to his comrade, but that he also didn't care.
He'll get to it soon.
(tbc)