A/N 1: (sniggers) Apparently chapter 1 wasn't well received. Either the first reviewer has never read Tokyo Babylon or any of CLAMP News shorts and seen the potential buried in the works for manipulation, or thinks that her opinion is the only correct one in the universe so Subaru is obviously her domain and she knows exactly what's going on in his two-dimensional paper-and-ink head. (Hey, are you with CLAMP? If so (as you seemingly are, seeing as how you know exactly how Subaru should be portrayed), could you please enlighten us on what the detrimental ending of X is, seeing as how Kadokawa is being idiotic about publishing it? When are more 16 or 32 page installments of X coming out, seeing as how you need just a few more to complete the next tarot-card bearing volume? And how about the release date of Volume 19? That would be nice, too.) Heh. As for the AU part, didn't we freaking notice that in the warnings? (laughs hysterically) Flames from people who don't read the story or its warnings are always so damned amusing.

A/N 2: If you read this on my site, you'll notice it's heavily censored on ff . net. Site rules an all – for the dirty version, hit the link off my profile. It's in the 'Japanese Animation' archive, under 'Fanfiction' (duh). On ff . net, there will be ONE scene. Kind of unavoidable, as it's a pivotal point in the storyline as it's developed. For the rest of it… well, oh ye hentai-lusters, you know where to go.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own X or Tokyo Babylon, nor do I hold rights to any of the characters held within those works. They all belong to the four goddesses of Clamp. I'm just borrowing them for my own sick pleasure.

WARNINGS: Alternate timeline (yes, that's alternate universe for the dense amongst us), Kamui-chan thrown into Tokyo Babylon. Terrible representation of Japan (well, I've never been there. Excuse the hell out of me) with no proper placement of important areas/buildings/etc. Seishiro and Subaru cuteness yaoi moments, Hokuto-chan fashion fiascos, another small CSD insertion and the Power of God's Will in blue flannel pajamas with bunny slippers.

Read at your own risk.

-BEGIN FIC-

It had seemed that only a few moments ago I'd managed to close my eyes and not have those amethyst orbs that had been haunting my dreamscape since that train trip to Ise Jingu appear to bother me again when the alarm clock went off, its horribly loud buzzer rocketing through the peaceful slumber that had finally overcome me and wrenching me forcibly back into the world of the living. After the confused cloud that pounded my brain lifted with the realization that yes it was my alarm clock and not some horrible Doom's Day alerting system from a sixties movie, I reached for the nightstand by my bed with a blind, grasping hand. I swear I was going to hurl that thing across the room one of these days.

Another hand beat mine to that electrical torture device, lightly tapping the snooze button before picking the clock up off the little nightstand it was seated upon. "Where's that power button again?" a tired baritone voice muttered.

With a quiet sigh, I let my head return to the soft pillow it had been torn away from by that alarm clock's ability to scare the livid daylights out of me every morning. "It's on the side of the clock, Seishiro-san. You should know that by now," I grumbled against the slightly sun-darkened shoulder my lips were pressed against.

"Ah yes. There we are." A faint click met my ears, followed by the hollow plastic thump of my clock being set back into its place instead of being sent hurtling across the bedroom as I had intended it to be. "Going to take our advice and sleep in today, Subaru-kun?"

As his warm arms wrapped around me, I nearly gave into the urge to remain. Those arms were so inviting, that embrace so gentle, that I didn't want to leave it. To remain in his grasp all day, to let my throbbing head lay upon that pillow and let his warm breath brush against my beaten skull, to let the knots in my muscles be massaged away by his long, slender fingers once again as they had been pushed away last night, to let his bare flesh warm me throughout the day was almost too tempting of an offer to resist. Ah, but the responsibilities of school called. How was I ever going to meet my dream of being an animal handler if I couldn't even graduate high school?

A whimper passed through my throat as I attempted to slip out of his embrace. "I've got to get up, Seishiro-san," I grunted tiredly, trying to push his arms away despite my instinctual longing to pull them more tightly around my frame. "Please."

"Subaru-kun," he insistently breathed, pressing his lips against my neck and laying soft kisses along my flesh.

Damn that man. He knew exactly how to get to me.

I heard rather than willed the pleased groan flowing from my throat as the world darkened not due to injuries or loss of blood but due to the slow closing of my eyelids in irresistible pleasure. "Seishiro-san, please stop!" I pleaded, pushing against his arms. "I can't miss any more days this week. I've already got enough homework to last me into the weekend."

"But you need to recover," he whispered hotly against my skin, nibbling tenderly.

I couldn't help but to melt into his embrace, my eyes closed completely, my mind drifting on clouds of ecstatic glee as his hands roamed over my body, taking the utmost care to not stroke any of the wounds the wind master's spirit had imparted onto me the evening before as they traversed over my flesh.

I was aware of only one thing as his lips claimed mine.

It was six in the morning. I had only thirty minutes to shower and get the beginnings of an outfit on before Hokuto-chan would be here to molest my clothes and cook breakfast. I had little over an hour before I had to be at the bus station to catch my ride to Clamp Academy.

At the rate things were going, there was no way I would be getting to classes on time today.

With Seishiro-san stealing my motivation with every gentle kiss and each tender touch, there was no way I'd be able to get out of bed before Hokuto-chan arrived.

Realization washed over me, letting the spell my companion was weaving over me with his lips and his hands break. "Seishiro-san, Hokuto-chan will be here in half an hour. We'd better get up before she arrives, neh?"

He grunted in disappointment.

Part of me cheered in victory. I'd be allowed to get on with my responsibilities as I'd planned. Not even Seishiro-san could stop me. Shows those two who they're up against! My dear sister could call me a pathetic wimp all she likes – she still can't dominate me completely. If even Seishiro-san fails against me, there's no way she can win.

The other part of me was just as flooded with dissatisfaction as Seishiro-san was. He'd nearly completely eradicated my resolve to go to class in the few minutes he'd been servicing me. But duty was duty, whether for the family or for my own future plans. Damn it all.

Seishiro-san was looking me over when I finally opened my eyes to look at his face. His eyes were predictably less than enthused with my obvious resolve to break out of his embrace and go to school. However, that disenchanted look was washed completely from his face in a mere fraction of a second as a smile lit his lips and his eyes closed in chipper crests.

I took a moment to appreciate the difference in his physical appearance before he spoke. Not that Seishiro-san looked bad with his glasses on – quite the contrary, actually. If I were to ever call another man devilishly handsome, it would be him in his lab coat with his coy grin turning his lips and his eyes smiling behind his glasses lenses. But without them, he usually looked so… cruel. It was refreshing to see the bespectacled veterinarian I had come to so deeply care about without the mask of those glasses. It helped confirm that he wasn't hiding in an intricate lie.

At least, it seemed that way.

Hokuto-chan had already voiced her concerns about him. Indeed, her quietly murmured questions, whispered to me in the privacy of her apartment without him around to overhear us so many months ago, had only reflected what I already had pondered. That he was Sakurazuka. That he might have ties to the Sakurazukamori. That he might be that dread assassin himself.

The fact that he knew the Art and had revealed himself to be quite the capable onmyouji had me more than a little concerned for quite some time, though I do believe I had convincingly hidden my reservations about the quality of his character. And the business that had occurred with MCC Corporation, the MS Institute, the subway serial killer and those girls I had been forced to face over the Q2 Party Line system had me quite on edge for the longest of periods.

However, those moments when without the mask those glasses provided he had the same joy and laughter written across his features as he did when he was Seishiro-san the veterinarian…. Those moments were what had me overlooking the possibilities that were held in his name and his clan position and seeing him for the caring person he had the capability of being.

Even if he was the Sakurazukamori, he was still Seishiro-san. And Seishiro-san… I….

I care so deeply for him. He's my dearest companion. My best friend, next to my sister.

His voice drew me out of my contemplations. "You're right. I suppose we should get showered and dressed before dear Hokuto-chan catches us together in bed, neh? Else she'll very likely kill me for deflowering her brother."

I couldn't keep my cheeks from burning at his statement. "S-Seishiro-san, that isn't something to joke about!" I hissed.

Laughter bubbled from him as he gave me a tender hug. "I know. We must keep her from finding out for as long as we can, neh? After all, I wouldn't want to die by the hands of my future sister-in-law before our wedding!"

Burying my face into my pillow, I tried to keep my blush hidden and my whimpers quelled as he cackled manically and rose from the bed.

"Now where did I leave my underwear? Subaru-kun, did you see where I tossed it last night?"

I groaned. This was going to be a long, long morning.

But truly, I didn't mind.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Seishiro-san was smiling cheerfully at me as I made my way into the kitchen, sitting at the counter in his wrinkled gray suit from the day before and the fuzzy white giraffe slippers that always are here for him. "Ohayo, Subaru-kun! So you actually made it out of your bed this morning, I see! And here I was thinking you were going to sleep the day away."

I blinked once, wondering where he was going with such a strange greeting. He knew I was going to get up. I was the one who had forced him to let me go so I could crawl off the mattress and pick out some clothing while he made use of my shower after finding his own clothes that he'd randomly discarded about my apartment.

Then I noticed what prompted his behavior – Hokuto-chan was already here and was in the process of making fresh pancakes for her 'grand special super western morning breakfast.'

And she was wearing a brown leather teddy over a white nearly transparent gauzy layered excuse for a flimsy mini-dress. With a cowboy hat to top it off.

Where she gets her ideas is so…. I think I'll never understand it.

Taking his greeting in stride after seeing that she was indeed present, I smiled and made my way to the chair by his side that sat opposite of that alien environment otherwise known as my kitchen. It was Hokuto-chan's realm, organized to her tastes, holding the foods she shopped for, and entirely off limits to me.

Yes, I was banished from my own kitchen. Something about a grease fire that nearly took out the family home a couple of years back lent itself as justification. Well, that grease fire in addition to the rather smoky mess I'd made out of a pot of macaroni I was making in this apartment.

Alright, a smoky and flaming mess.

The kitchen and I simply don't agree with one another. Other than my toaster which is more than safe thanks to the wards I carved into it after it attempted to electrocute me when I was prying my burning breakfast from its interior and the hot water spigot which has always liked me enough to let me make tea and ramen, I've been banned from utilizing the rest of the facilities. Well, the fridge has yet to do anything wicked to me. It happily chills the sodas I put into it. And it serves as a receptacle for Hokuto-chan's procured foodstuffs, a gallon of milk from time to time to make cereal with, and oddly enough a pack or two of cigarettes that Seishiro-san forgets in its depths.

Why he leaves his Mild Seven Selects in my refrigerator is far beyond me.

As I slid into my seat, I nodded. "Ohayo, Seishiro-san. Hokuto-chan."

Turning, she smiled brightly and waved to me with her spatula. "It's about time you crawled out of the shower, Subaru! I was about to give up any hope of seeing you this morning."

"I thought that's what you would have preferred," I teasingly stated as a smile crossed my lips.

"Oh, you better believe that's what I would prefer!" she spat, flicking her spatula in my direction sharply. "You need to recover, Subaru. After all, you did manage to get hit with an urn. I'm surprised it didn't crack your skull!"

"It was a small urn."

"Subaru-"

"How about some tea?" Seishiro-san interjected, merrily smiling as he lifted his empty mug.

"Oh! Of course, Sei-chan!" Hokuto-chan brightly chirped, her smile radiant as she lifted his oversized Godzilla mug away and absconded with it. "Need some serious morning brew to get moving this morning, eh?"

"Well, spending my entire night making certain someone remained with us here in the world of the uncomatos didn't lend itself towards real decent sleep," Seishiro-san chuckled.

I had to cough to prevent myself from bursting with an accusatory statement or three at that remark of his.

Grinning at me, Seishiro-san nodded. "But as you can see, dear sister-in-law, my sacrifice was well worth it. Getting to be here to see his rare morning form is quite rewarding in of itself!"

I wanted to smack him.

Hokuto-chan was laughing, her voice like bright silvery bells as she returned the horribly large green Godzilla mug to Seishiro-san and placed a reasonably sized Sanrio mug in front of me. I stared at it for a few moments, allowing slight indignation with being served a Hello Kitty dish to wash over me before disregarding the playful nature of the cup and instead appreciating its contents. Ah, nothing like morning tea.

Seishiro-san was staring at my mug. "Neh Hokuto-chan, I don't recall him taking tea that strong any other time we've had it."

Hokuto-chan leaned over the counter, her smile refusing to leave her face as she grabbed Seishiro-san's smiley-face tie and wove it into a bow. "His wake-up juice. Three tea bags instead of one. Or a full heaping basket of leaves if you're using loose ingredients."

"Ah! Thank you for the information, Hokuto-chan! I'll have to remember that for after we get married!"

"Of course! After all, you're going to have to take up caring for his weird habits yourself, Sei-chan!"

My reply to their banter consisted of grumbling into my mug and nearly choking on the bubbles I swallowed.

As I drank, a plate with a pair of blueberry pancakes drowned in fresh blueberry syrup and topped with an over-medium egg was pushed in front of me.

Ah, Hokuto-chan's famous 'grand special super western morning breakfast.' Very, very difficult to resist. Especially difficult to resist when the last meal one has had was the student lunch at Clamp Academy two days ago.

Seishiro-san was busying himself with his own plate of goods as Hokuto-chan set out a platter towering with the remaining pancakes that had come off her griddle then vanished to leave us to breakfast. And thus was the race was on.

I don't know why, but many people assume that I deliberately starve myself. Contrary to popular belief, I don't intentionally not eat. I'm simply forced to skip meals from time to time. Fasting before a job helps my direction and my concentration. Discipline keeps my meditation from being interrupted by such small physical pangs as hunger. And with as often as I work; well, I do suppose my habits with meals surrounding my work ethics have contributed to the assumptions that so many people seem to have about my possible anorexia. Nary a day goes by when my classmates do not question me about my eating habits.

If only they understood how Hokuto-chan's cooking can ruin a person towards anything prepared by anyone else! With a sister dedicating herself towards the craft of being the perfect housewife and putting her skills into her culinary arts, it's difficult to find joy in eating anything other than the spectacular meals she makes. At least, it's difficult to find joy in eating anything in the range of meals we can afford, especially when we have her skill to measure such meals against.

Another assumption people make. My classmates all seem to think that just because we're Sumeragi, we're rolling in wealth. Perhaps the family is, but us? My work benefits the family accounts. We are given enough to buy food, pay rent and pay for transportation along with enough bonus money to keep me supplied with ofuda and Hokuto-chan in new clothes and accessories. And while we do have the clan credit card for emergencies, we know better than to utilize it frivolously. Grandmother would blow her top if she ever saw the credit card bills that Hokuto-chan and I both have dreamed of creating.

Anyway, the race. Hokuto-chan is an excellent cook. Seishiro-san has come to realize this over the many months he's been acquainted with us. And thus has this tradition started – whoever finishes their plate first gets first dibs on seconds, then thirds and so on until her work is thoroughly obliterated.

It makes Hokuto-chan happy. Hell, it makes everyone involved happy. She feels appreciated, and we get bellies full of what has to be Earth's most marvelous food. It's a win-win situation for all involved.

I was well into my second plate of pancakes (Seishiro-san was demolishing his third) when Hokuto-chan reappeared and proceeded to interrupt me. Ignoring my protesting squawk, she wrenched my hands away from my plate to shove them into the arms of the jacket she'd decided I was going to wear that day. No use arguing with her decisions. As long as it went with the khaki slacks and white dress shirt I'd already decided on, it was no big issue. Next up was the familiar feeling of having a tie thrown around my neck, followed by the flop of a hat being tossed onto my head. I reclaimed my fork and continued to eat as she busied herself behind me, reaching around my body to tie my tie and generally mangle my clothes.

By the time I put my fork down and relinquished the final pancake on the platter to Seishiro-san, she had already brought out her roll-about vertical mirror. Glancing over, I arched a brow.

Well, I still had my khaki slacks and my white dress shirt. Now I had a dark brown belt with an obnoxiously huge and eloquently sculpted silver belt buckle on it. I also had a dark brown sports blazer, the crest of Clamp Academy pinned neatly onto my lapel. My tie was tied into a Double Windsor for once – though the bottom of it was tacked with what had to be the tackiest silver tie-tack I've ever seen in my life, sculpted to match that gaudy belt buckle. I squinted as I stared at the paired articles and finally was able to determine that they were crafted to form a sprawling cross out of Celtic knots. She'd plopped a brown hat with a khaki accentuation ribbon atop my head. And she'd tossed dark brown leather gloves with matching Celtic designs done in tan suede onto my lap.

Ah well.

Taking the gloves in a black-gloved hand, I smiled at my sister before departing for the bathroom to put them on.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

It had been yet another long day at school. I swear those teachers were out to get me.

At least they were slightly more merciful towards my skipping school the day before and the lack of completion of my homework. Perhaps it was the hefty bandages still wrapped around my head and the slight crimson stain they sported from where I'd been an urn-target yesterday morning that lent towards their more or less forgiving attitude.

No, I didn't have any greater heap of homework in my already overloaded backpack. The homework packet my teachers had already assigned me remained entirely unaltered.

I'd managed to get a little of it out of the way last night before I passed out entirely. And when I'd woken up this morning, I'd discovered all of my untouched Anatomical Sciences homework had been completed.

Seishiro-san was going to receive a lot of thanks for that deed. His handwriting is so easy to identify. Such a sweet act, to help me while I was unconscious in shirking the stifling stranglehold my instructors had placed over me with their wicked homework!

Once again I was on the overcrowded bus – this time far away from the rowdy children who'd been inadvertently beating me the other day. No, this time they were left with a classmate of mine, Kyoshi, as their unsuspecting target.

And today there was much screaming as the fan went flying out of the window.

I wanted to say that it served the little blonde right, but that heartbroken look on his face….

"I'll acquire another for you, Nokuro! Don't worry about it!"

I'd not worry myself about it. Apparently the child who's been referred to as 'Akira' the other day had it well under control.

As the bus pulled up to the station, I waited calmly for everyone else to push his or her way to the exit. I'd managed to get a seat that time, and was in no hurry to get my still sore body jostled by the crowd. Razor Wind hurt. A lot. I wasn't exactly desperate to have every carefully bound wound on my body reopened by enthusiastic students trying to shove their way off of the bus.

Once the crowd dissipated, I made my way off. Shouldering my bag as I stepped free of the bus' confines, I sighed quietly.

Hokuto-chan was out shopping with a friend of hers this afternoon. She wasn't going to be there to walk with me on the way home. And Seishiro-san had already ordered me to head directly home, saying that he'd inoculate me if I dared to show up at the clinic in the condition I was in – he prescribed bed rest and homework in the comfort of my own apartment.

Who was I to argue?

It wasn't that long of a trek home. It was just going to be a lonely one.

While I wasn't overly excited about it, I began hastily nonetheless. Head bowed, I concentrated on the sidewalk as I trudged towards the apartment that served me as home. Why the sidewalk? Because I didn't want to trip over some obstacle I missed, that's why. I'm simply not as graceful as my sister. Cracks and rocks in my path sometimes still surprise me. It was thanks to such an obstacle that I met Seishiro-san….

Shaking my head to drive that recollection far from my mind, I let a small smile cross my lips. If it hadn't been for my clumsiness, we never would have encountered one another. Quite a coincidence.

Next thing I knew I was staggering back, a hand grabbing my backpack straps while the other instantly went to my hat to hold it in place. A startled cry escaped me even as it was echoed by what I'd run into.

Instantly I bowed in apology. "Sumimasen!" I cried out, head bowed.

I blinked.

The person I'd run into was dressed in blue flannel pajamas and white bunny slippers.

With a groan he hauled himself to his feet, muttering under his breath about this being twice since he awoke into this 'dream' that some weird kid with green eyes has had to run him over. Then with a small sigh, he said, "It's alright. Not the first time it's happened. But you should know that."

"Eh?" I asked as I straightened my position and looked at the person quizzically.

Eyes closed, the young boy who appeared to be approximately my age huffed. "You bowled me over two days ago, didn't you? At least you're being polite about it today."

I took a moment to study the young man, eyes quickly taking in his features. Wild black hair sweeping in long locks about and across his face and cropped short in back, long dark lashes pressed lightly against pale cheeks, slender build, slightly shorter than myself. I could swear that I'd seen those very features somewhere before, but I had no recollection of ever having met this person. And I knew I didn't run into him two days ago. I'd been on the train much of the day, and had actually avoided any embarrassing collisions while transferring between transportation vehicles at both stations I'd visited.

"You're mistaken," I cautiously began. "I didn't run into you two days ago."

"You did. I don't forget faces easily," he said with a huff, opening his eyes.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at his face. Amethyst eyes….

Just like in my dream….

Quickly, my brain continued to churn and continue our conversation even as I was busily allowing myself to be stunned over the fact that the boy I had dreamed about the day before was standing in front of me in his pajamas and his slippers. "I can guarantee it wasn't me. Perhaps it was my sister."

"Your sister?" the boy's light voice replied, gruff doubt coloring its tone.

"Aa. We're twins, identical in all save gender"

That stalled any sarcastic reply that was trying to ebb its way out of his throat. He blinked once, then twice, before quietly muttering, "Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean to blame you so harshly, then."

"Quite alright," I said with a smile as I looked over him once more, only now starting to notice his condition. His pajamas were quite wrinkled, the left side of them covered with dirt. His bunny slippers were a far cry from white. And he smelled like….

"I don't mean to pry," I quietly began, my cheeks beginning to heat as an inevitable blush began to wash over me, "but you weren't sleeping…."

He looked away, his face already colored with embarrassment as he glared sourly at a cardboard box in the nearby alley. "Yeah, I'm sleeping over there. What of it?"

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

He sighed quietly. "No."

Oh for crying out loud. A sigh echoing his escaped me as I looked him over. "Neh, if you like you can come by my place and at least clean yourself up. Maybe make a phone call or two to see if anyone you might know is about and available to pick you up. Consider it an apology for both my sister and myself, ahem, 'bowling you over.'"

He blinked then stared at me. "You're asking a complete stranger to come to your house…?"

A grin took my lips. "I've no reason to fear strangers. I'm quite capable of protecting myself."

"Oh really?"

I blinked. Then I realized that he was probably staring at the bandages that were wrapped around my head. I sighed and honestly replied, "This happened at work. Nothing to do with strangers. As an onmyouji, I can defend myself if necessary."

"Onmyouji…" he whispered, his eyes suddenly springing open. He apparently recognized that profession. "Neh," he continued after a few stunned moments of silence passed by him, "what's your name?"

He certainly was forward. A small smile turned the corners of my lips as I politely bowed. "Sumeragi Subaru."

I almost expected him to do as all who recognized my profession did and defeat the depth of my bow with an overly respectful reply.

I wasn't expecting him to stare at me, his amethyst eyes blinking rapidly as tears gathered on his lashes and his jaw to fall open. "No… no way," he whispered softly. "Subaru? But you don't… you don't look like Subaru."

Blinking once, I stared at the boy. I wasn't aware that 'Subaru' was common enough of a name for him to know of another. And I knew Sumeragi wasn't a title carried by anyone with the first name of Subaru. I know every person in my clan.

"You're… you're really Sumeragi Subaru?" he softly asked.

I nodded.

"It's… it's me. Kamui."

Blinking, I arched a brow at him. I've an excellent memory when it comes to people I've met. And nowhere in my recollection was there a person named 'Kamui.' A legend of 'Kamui' was all that I knew, and that was one told to me by my Grandmother concerning the battles of the Dragons of Heaven and of Earth during the apocalyptic Promised Day under the directives of the 'Kamui' who was the deciding factor in Earth's ultimate fate – not concerning a boy with soft black hair, shining purple eyes and bunny slippers.

"Shiro Kamui," he clarified desperately. After a few longer moments of silence passed and I shook my head to indicate that no, I'd never met him before in my life, he whimpered softly, "You don't know me?"

I shook my head with one sharp clip, keeping my gaze warily on the boy.

"Then maybe it really isn't… maybe you aren't the Subaru I'm thinking of. After all, you don't look like him. But then again, how many Japanese have green eyes…?" He swallowed harshly, casting his environment one swift cursory glance before returning his stare to me. Looking deep into my eyes, he reached out tentatively with one hand and quickly following it with his other.

I couldn't move. I felt rooted to the spot I stood in, unable to break contact with those penetrating orbs. Maybe it was the fact that this was the boy I'd dreamed about that held me so still. Maybe it was the familiarity with which he murmured my name, forgoing the honorifics everyone save my dear sister attaches to it.

His hands were warm and soft though slightly grimy as he laid them upon my cheeks. As his fingers slid towards the bottoms of my eyes, I squinted. Reflex, of course. But apparently the change in the general shape of my eyes was enough to draw a startled gasp from him. Blinking once before managing to close his mouth, he hissed quietly. "Oh my God. It is you, isn't it…?"

I truthfully didn't know how to reply to his questioning. Remaining silent seemed my best option.

He continued after a few awkward moments of silence had passed between us. "Subaru… what year is it?" he whimpered even as the last of the blood that colored his flesh fled his face.

I stared at him. Was the boy mad? What was going through his mind?

Deciding it best to humor him, I frowned slightly and replied, "Nineteen Ninety. What other year would it be?"

"Nineteen Ninety…?" he echoed, his voice quavering.

I didn't have time to respond to his echoed disbelief. I was too busy lurching forward and catching his falling body in my arms to bother.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Folding my hands together, I stared at the boy I'd laid out on my couch, my lips turned with a pensive frown.

Shiro Kamui had fainted after I'd told him that it was the year Nineteen Ninety.

Shiro Kamui was the boy I'd dreamed about on the train to Ise Jingu.

And now, Shiro Kamui was in my home.

I'd done what I could for the boy. He had new slippers sitting by the side of the couch. Granted they were a bit big, but they'd have to do. And I'd found a set of my sweats that he could wear once he'd awakened and showered.

After nearly an hour passed and as my Mathematics homework sailed towards its completion, the boy finally stirred and groggily sat up. "Where…?" he muttered, staring with confusion at his surroundings.

"My apartment. I couldn't just leave you unconscious in the streets, Shiro-kun," I replied, a smile taking my lips as I put my pencil down. "If you like, the shower's at the end of the hall. You can keep those sweats if you like."

He slowly sat up, holding his head. "And here I was thinking I'd wake up."

I arched a brow at him, my smile falling away. "You said that before. That you thought you were in a dream."

He blinked, turning a questioning gaze my way.

"After I collided with you. You had proclaimed that it was the second time in your 'dream' that you were run over by a green-eyed kid."

"You remember that?" he questioned.

A modest shrug moved my shoulders. "Good memory," I clarified. Actually it was rather photographic. Perhaps that's why the lapses in my mind's recollections have been bothering me for years, and why an event seven years complete constantly replayed itself in my dreams. "But before we talk about that-"

"Aa," he quietly interrupted as he gathered the sweats I'd found for him into his thin arms. "Arigato," he remembered to utter before shuffling off to the bathroom.

Nearly an hour later he emerged into the main room again, sheepishly slipping his feet into my extra slippers. Now dressed in dark gray sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt that hung baggily on him and pink pig slippers (well, I was wearing my black ones. The pig slippers by my bed were the only spares I had.) on his feet, he slid onto the couch once more. "Um, where's your laundry bin?"

Smiling, I rose from my seat. "You left your pajamas in the bathroom?" As he nodded, I went to fetch them and take care of them. No doubt about it; he'd spent two days in those clothes and had slept in that alley. Dusty. Yick.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for him as I opened the small door that stood behind the swinging door that lead into the bathroom to reveal the upright washer/dryer combination unit. Tossing his clothes into the washer with a good heap of detergent, I started the machine and walked back out to the main living room to seat myself once more on the cushion I'd set across from the couch.

He was staring at his folded hands as I looked him over.

My smile deepened slightly. The young man was quite handsome, especially when cleaned up.

What the hell was I thinking! I have Seishiro-san. I have Seishiro-san, who was likely to be over later. I don't need to be thinking about this boy I'd dreamed about and how much better he looks when actually clean. Gah!

His voice shattered my thoughts. "Thanks again," he said quietly.

"No problem, Shiro-kun," I replied with a nod. "So, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Not at all," he quietly murmured, staring at his hands.

"Where are you from?" I began.

"Tokyo."

Boy, that helped. "What district?" I pushed quietly.

"Look, if you're thinking to return me to where I belong, I'm telling you it's not going to work."

I arched a brow, my smile falling away at his small outburst. "Why not?"

"Because… this is a dream."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

Shiro-kun shook his head. "Because this isn't supposed to be Nineteen Ninety. This is supposed to be Nineteen Ninety Nine."

My eyes widened of their own accord. Nineteen Ninety-Nine…?

"It's supposed to be the end of the summer of Nineteen Ninety Nine. Approaching the Promised Day."

"How do you know about the Promised Day!" I burst without thought, nearly coming off of my cushion.

He stared at me, his face filled with shock. "You don't know…?"

I blinked. And as remnants of my dream from the trip to Ise washed over me, I felt my face pale.

Matching dragons, both flooded with impossible power.

Blue dragons.

Dragons of Heaven.

"I'm 'Kamui,'" he uttered, his voice flooded with sadness.

The memories of that dream had me stunned into silence.

All I could remember was that matching dragon, that amethyst eyed boy at its base.

All I could hear was the dragon's roar.

tbc...