Warnings: None
Lucky Child
Chapter 77:
"The Poet"
Although it meant my friends stood a greater chance of finding me, following Itsuki out of the belly of the beast posed a certain number of risks—the most obvious being the presence of Sensui and all the dangers his close proximity presented. However, it wasn't the former Detective's ability to hurt me I worried most about. Rather, I worried my friends were not strong enough yet to face him, and if they came for me, I feared far more for their safety than for mine.
Luckily for them, I had a backup plan that didn't hinge on the cast of Yu Yu Hakusho finding and rescuing me. That plan came with risks of its own, of course, but they were risks I felt I had to take to ensure the safety of my canon.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
When we stepped from the formless void of the Uraotoko's stomach and onto cold slate the color of tarnished silverware, my knees nearly gave out beneath me. I wasn't used to supporting my own weight. Stepping from abyss to terra firma felt utterly jarring, limbs much heavier than I recalled after hours spent floating in limbo. I staggered, but Itsuki's hand curled beneath my elbow and helped keep me upright.
"Careful," he murmured. "The transition from pseudo-space can take some getting used to.
Say what will about that demon, but in his own deranged way, he's almost a gentleman.
He'd taken me somewhere befitting of a gentleman, too: an open-concept high rise apartment of shocking square footage, an enviably appointed chef's kitchen blending seamlessly with an enormous greatroom, the length of the room lined with floor-to-ceiling windows running along one of the space's longer sides. These windows overlooked a skyline all aglitter with lights of every discernible color. I didn't recognize the skyscrapers beyond the glass, long though I blinked at them in the apartment's cold, dry air. Were we in Sarayashiki? Mushiyori? Tokyo? There was no telling, at least not from this height. We had to be, what, twenty stories up? I stepped toward the windows, to check and see if perhaps I could tell where we were—
Itsuki's hand closed around my arm. Not hard enough to hurt or anything. Just firmly enough to suggest I stop in my tracks, a suggestion I obeyed at once—but Itsuki didn't say anything to me. His face swung, in fact, toward the kitchen, and to the three black doors next to it that I guessed concealed pantries or bathrooms or bedrooms. Whichever. When his eyes narrowed I started to ask what was wrong, but before I could, one of Itsuki's misty portals cut the air before blooming into being.
"Apologies, Keiko, for this abrupt exit." He stepped toward the portal, pulling me along with him. "But we need to—"
The door nearest the kitchen swung inward into darkness.
"Itsuki?" said a sweet, lilting voice.
Itsuki stopped moving at once, golden eyes locked on the far-away door. Only a light in the kitchen illuminated the otherwise shadowy space, but I still managed to perceive the door swinging open wider, a face swimming from the gloom beyond like the visage of a ghost. Too dim to make out its bearer's identity, though.
"Itsuki," the person repeated. "Who's this?"
"No one," Itsuki said. His eyes cut to me, gauging my reaction. "We were just leaving." His fingers tightened on my arm. "Keiko, follow—"
"… a girl?"
Itsuki stopped again. Sighed. Allowed his hand to fall from my arm and to his side. He ran it through his hair after a moment, brushing silky green strands off of his pale face.
"Yes," said Itsuki. "She is."
The figure in the door said nothing—but then, inch by inch, they drifted forward into the light.
Only a single strip of fancy track-lights above a massive granite island illuminated the kitchen, but they case just enough platinum light across burnished copper skin, dark and narrow eyes, and chiseled cheekbones for me to determine the person's identity. My stomach dropped into my shoes and my eyes fluttered in the apartment's cold air, sapped of moisture just as thoroughly as my suddenly dry mouth. A bindi marked the space between his eyes like a nametag, and even though Itsuki offered no introductions, I knew exactly who I was looking at.
I beheld Sensui, at last—but something wasn't right.
"Oh." He took another step forward, looking me up and down with undisguised and inexplicably cheerful curiosity. He wore an oversized grey sweater over jeans, long sleeves nearly obscuring his tapered fingers. Said fingers travelled to his mouth, nails ghosting over his smile as he said, "She's pretty."
Words popped out of my mouth on reflex. "Th-thank you."
Another step closer. His voice was light and airy, like dandelion down drifting on a spring breeze, unexpected and pleasant and confusing. "I like your hair," said Sensui.
His hair wasn't slicked back like in the anime. It hung loose around his face, framing his features with long, black strands—like a bob, almost. "I like yours," I replied, because somehow the unexpected haircut suited him.
Sensui took a lock between his fingers, rubbing strands back and forth, back and forth, as he gave them a half-hearted smile. "I want to wear it longer, but they won't let—" He stopped talking, looking at Itsuki with obvious uncertainty. "How much does she know?
"Not that much," Itsuki said in a voice no louder than a whisper. His face looked gaunt in the half-light, eyes haggard with… was that worry I saw in his expression? No. It couldn't be.
"Oh." Sensui looked at his bare feet, waited a beat, and then looked at Itsuki with an expression so hopeful and eager and sincere it nearly took my breath from me. Sensui said, "I can keep a secret, Itsuki. I promise I can keep a secret. So can she stay just a little while? Please?"
"Naru." Itsuki stepped toward him, hands raised in supplication. "That isn't a good—"
Sensui's eyes widened, each the color of an infinite abyss. "Please?" he said in that same begging tone—and if I hadn't already been incapable of speech, the thought of Sensui begging surely would have rendered me mute.
It did the same to Itsuki, it seemed, because he paused. The silence reigned for a long while. Somewhere in the walls the A/C kicked on, a vent in the lofted ceiling overhead blowing icy air across my face. I blinked to bring tears back to my eyes, but it did little good, and my throat felt as dry as arid sand.
Soon Itsuki's shoulders sagged. "Fine," he said, once more passing a hand through his hair. "She can stay." And as Sensui started to smile, Itsuki lifted a finger and wagged it in Sensui's face. "But please let Minoru know we have urgent need of him."
Sensui rolled his eyes. "Spoilsport," he said, and one feet so light he almost seemed to dance, Sensui drifted across the floor, placed a hand on Itsuki's shoulder, and kissed him gently on the cheek.
Right then—as Itsuki looked into Sensui's face with open, honest affection—I understood.
One of Sensui's personality… she'd been a she, hadn't she?
At that recollection, everything clicked neatly into place, memories I'd almost forgotten flooding my head like rain filling a barrel. In the anime, Itsuki had said one personality was a woman. She was shy, and she wrote the most beautiful poetry Itsuki had ever heard. He and this personality were in love, he thought, and he valued this personality for her gentleness and kindness.
Which meant Sensui wasn't Sensui at all right now. He was—what had Itsuki called her? Naru. Yes. That was the name of this personality, the girl who begged and gave puppy-eyes and kissed cheeks with an impish giggle.
…well, now. This was certainly unexpected.
The pair of them, Naru and Sensui alike, ignored me as I watched, mentally assessing if my plans could stand up in the presence of Naru instead of Minoru or Shinobu. She (it felt silly to use male pronouns with Naru) seemed calm and sweet, not at all conniving or calculating or violent. Did that make her less dangerous than her other personalities? The anime merely mentioned her, didn't elaborate on her personality, so it was hard to say, but something in her open demeanor and innocent expressions made me suspect she wasn't quite as lethal as her kin. In fact, she looked almost childlike as she cocked her head to one side, put a finger to her chin, and blinked at the ceiling for one quiet moment.
"Hmm." She tapped her chin. "Minoru is sleeping. He doesn't wish to wake, it seems."
Itsuki scowled, but only for the barest of seconds before smoothing his expression. "And the others?" he said.
She shook her head. "None want to come play. And it's my time, anyway." She looked at me again, taking a step in my direction. "Your name is Keiko, right? That's pretty. How is it spelled?"
"Uh. 'Lucky child.'"
She beamed. "Mine is spelled with the character for 'truth.'"
"That's lovely," I said, because what the hell else could I say?
Seemed I chosen correctly, because Naru outright beamed at the compliment. "Thank you. I picked it myself," she said, and she broke out in a wide grin. "Keiko, can I paint your nails? I did Itsuki's yesterday and I'd love to do yours, too."
Well. That certainly explained Itsuki's black nail polish. I looked at him askance, but he tucked his hands into his pockets and out of sight. I looked back to Naru and said, "Sure."
She bounced on her heels, grinned widely, and grabbed my wrist to tug me after her toward the kitchen. Her touch (which I flinched from on reflex) was light and gentle, fingers warm and dry and smooth as she led me to the kitchen's large island and bade me sit in one of the tall chairs ringing it. Itsuki trailed after us and sat in the chair on my right.
"Be a polite host and offer our guest a drink, Naru," he said.
Her eyes popped wide. "Oh, right! Would you like juice, Keiko? I have a few kinds." She cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, "I like mixing them together, but Itsuki thinks it's gross."
A laugh came barreling up my throat at that, huffing out my nose and puffing my cheeks with a burst of humored air. Itsuki gave me a Look, but I just giggled. "I don't think it's gross. Why don't you make me a surprise?"
"Ha!" Naru tossed her hair with undisguised triumph. "See, Itsuki? I knew she was cool. And coming right up, Keiko; just a minute."
She bustled off toward the gigantic stainless steel refrigerator on the kitchen's far side and began removing various bottles from its interior. Naru moved with the grace of a deer, movements lithe and strong as she pulled glasses from under the counter and started to mix drinks. In spite of the danger of the situation, Naru fascinated me. I was getting a firsthand glimpse into an unexplored personality, a front row seat to hidden canon. How could I not be morbidly interested, despite the dangers here?
Still, though. I had to wonder if, perhaps, meeting Naru was some kind of setup. Surely Sensui's core personality, Shinobu, wouldn't willingly send sweet Naru to do his bidding… but Itsuki had frozen up when we came to this place. I had a hunch he'd sensed Naru in the other room and had been just as surprised by her presence tonight as I was. Itsuki had abducted me against Sensui's orders, after all. If they hadn't coordinated which personality would be present for this meeting, it was possible meeting Naru was just one giant mistake. But it was odd that people this devious could ever—
I felt his breath ghost across my neck before I heard him speak. It took everything in my power not to leap out of my seat, but somehow I held down my unsteady nerves.
"Do try to behave yourself," Itsuki murmured in my ear. "Naru is… special to me."
"Sure." I swallowed the lump in my neck and murmured back, "Split personality or a mind reader?"
It was a gamble, but it paid off in at least throwing Itsuki off balance. He leaned away so he could stare into my face. "Beg pardon?" he said, the barest flicker of surprise lighting his gold eyes.
"Split personality or a mind reader?" I doubled down.
Itsuki paused, but not for long. With grudging acknowledgement he murmured, "How did you know?"
"Wasn't hard." I shrugged. The clink of glasses and bottles colored the quiet night alongside the sound of Naru humming under her breath. Itsuki kept his eyes locked on her back as I said, "She was either reading a distant mind earlier or talking to someone in her own head. And that remark about not being allowed to cut her hair…"
"You have sharp ears," he said.
I started to make a quip about them being all the better to hear him with, my dear, but Naru turned around with a glass of juice in each hand. "Here you go," she said as she sat down to my left and set the juice before me. I swiveled in my seat to face her as she said, "Try to guess what's in it."
"OK." I took a sip, liquid cold, sweet, and tangy on my tongue. One flavor was obvious. "Pineapple, for sure." I lifted the glass to the lights above, studying the way the drink faded from pale yellow down to deep red at the bottom of the clear cup. "I think maybe grenadine explains the color. But…" I took another sip. There was something that tasted almost dusky on the back of my tongue, but when combined with the pineapple and sweet grenadine, I couldn't make it out. Defeated, I offered her an apologetic smile. "And there's another flavor I can't place. You win."
"It's apple juice." She took a drink of her own concoction and grinned. "Pineapple-apple-juice with grenadine."
She giggled at her own joke, but I paused. The Japanese word for 'pineapple' was basically a katakana rendition of the English version of the word, but 'apple' in Japanese was 'ringo.' She hadn't said 'ringo,' though. She'd said 'apple,' her pronunciation of the name of both fruits absolutely perfect.
"Do you speak English?" I asked, unable to help myself.
"I do," she said. She drained her glass and pushed it aside. "Now. What color do you want me to paint your nails?"
"What colors do you have?"
"All of them!" She looked proud of that, chest puffing under her sweater. "Let me show them to you."
Naru got up and disappeared into the room she'd come from earlier, returning in moments carrying a large zippered makeup bag brimming with bottles of nail polish. She spilled them onto the counter with a hundred crystalline clatters and began rifling through their ranks, organizing them into sections based on color. "See?" she said, gesturing at her trove. "I have everything."
"Way more than me," I said. "I think I have maybe three colors?"
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
"My parents own a restaurant and I help cook a lot. Nail polish can flake off in food, so I can't wear it much." I winked. "Health code violations."
"Oh. That makes sense." She looked at her hands, but her smile faded. "I can't paint my nails, either, though not because I cook." Her cheeks flushed a bit. "I'm not actually very good at cooking."
I frowned. "If not for cooking, why don't you paint yours?"
She looked at Itsuki, then. "Um?" she said, and I turned in my seat to look at him, too.
"It's all right," Itsuki said. A muscle in his cheek twitched. "She knows, it seems."
Relief crossed Naru's face. "Oh, good." She raised her hands a wiggle her finger. "The others don't like it. I can't paint them since we share." She pointed downward. "But they let me paint my toes!"
Said toes were painted electric blue. "Great color," I said. I selected a red shade from the pile of lacquers. "As for me, I think this one goes best with my dress."
Naru's eyes lit up. "It's almost the same color!" She reached for my hands, took the bottle, and spread my fingers across the cool granite countertop between us. The tiny metal bead in the bottle rattled when she shook it. "Now hold still."
"Lay down a paper towel, first," Itsuki suggested.
"Oh." Naru flushed at the gentle laughter in his voice. "Right!"
With that, she got to work. Neither of us spoke as she coated my nails in a single layer of scarlet paint, progressing from right pinkie to left, then went back down the line and added a second coat. Naru was a bit clumsy with the paint. It splashed onto my cuticles and skin in places, and didn't quite reach the edges of my nails in others, but she smiled during the entire process. Eventually she finished with a layer of topcoat that got on my skin as much as it did my nails, and when she reached the final nail, she sat back with a satisfied smile.
However, when she beheld her handiwork from a distance, her smile faded a tad. Her sweater-covered hand crept to her mouth, covering it with soft wool.
"I know I'm not very good," she said, embarrassed eyes cutting to the floor.
Even if she shared a body with a villain, I felt badly for her. "Don't say that," I said, inspecting my nails. "I think they're perfect."
"It's just—I haven't been doing it for very long," she continued.
"Practice makes perfect." I had to encouragingly nudge her foot with mine since my nails were still wet. I smiled when she looked at me again, saying, "You just have to keep at it and eventually you'll be a pro."
"You're right." Her smile returned, eyes glittering in the dim kitchen. "And we're making so many new friends these days. Maybe some of them will let me paint their nails."
I started to say yes, I'm sure some of them would—but Naru's eyes dropped again. Her hands folded on her thighs. She looked down and away, staring at the floor with gaze hooded and bitter. The abrupt shift to her demeanor had me frowning and resisting the urge to reach for her hand.
Instead I opted for asking, "Are you OK?"
Naru shook herself, but her smile still stayed hidden. "Yes. I'm just…" She hesitated, then shook her head. "They're helpful friends. We need them. But I'm sad, because I won't get to know them for very long." Another shake of her head, slower and sadder this time. "That just means I have to treasure them while I have them, I think. But…"
Behind me, Itsuki said Naru's name—and in his voice I heard an undercurrent of warning, that urgency even secrecy can't hide. Naru sighed in response, shoulders sagging just a bit.
"Fine, fine." She bent to give my nails another look. "You're all done, I think." Expression uncertain, she said, "Do you like them?"
"I love them." I held them against my dress to really show off how well the color matches. "Thank you, Naru."
Her good mood came back like a flashbulb going off at the compliment; she practically glowed, bashfully looking at me from beneath her brows. "You're welcome," she said, and without even a second's pause she added, "Do you like poetry?"
The non-sequitur threw me, I'll admit, but I recovered enough to stammer, "I do."
"Oh, good! I write a lot of it." Her eyes fell to the floor again. "I'm not very good at that either, though."
But Itsuki wasn't having any of that. "You're wonderful, Naru," he said, pride and sincerity evident in every word. "Your work is beautiful, and you've worked hard to develop your craft. I wish you'd have more confidence in yourself."
Naru blushed at that. "Itsuki says that all the time, but he's biased." Something occurred to her, then, and she looked at me with renewed interest. "You're not, though. Biased, I mean."
"That's true," I said.
Naru opened her mouth. Closed it. Hesitated. "If only…" she said, trailing off with faraway eyes.
"Hey." This time I couldn't keep from grabbing her hand, because I knew that look. I'd seen it in the mirror a hundred times before creative writing workshops, had beheld that expression of anxious doubt every time I posted a chapter of an online work. Naru looked up with a small gasp at the contact, but I just smiled and squeezed her fingers in my own. "It's OK if you don't want to share it with me. Poetry can be so personal, sometimes keeping it private is just what you need to do."
Her gaze softened. "You understand me, I think," she murmured. "That's so nice."
"I'm glad you think so." Because the unease hadn't yet faded from her eyes, I asked, "You said you speak English, right?"
She frowned a little. "Yes?"
"I know a few poems, if you'd like me to recite something."
Once again, it was like flicking a switch. She pulled her hands from mind so she could clap them together, glee evident in every pull of muscle. "Oh, how wonderful! Please, please, go ahead!" She grabbed my wrist. "But this isn't the place. Come with me, come with me…"
She paved the way to the other end of the long greatroom, where a widescreen TV sat on a stand against the wall in front of a huge sectional couch dripping with cushions and blankets. As on the kitchen side, three black doors were set into the wall beside the TV, leading to lord knew precisely where. Itsuki followed at a sedate pace, flicking on a single lamp at the corner of the sectional as Naru ushered me to stand in front of the TV. She danced to the couch and sat in the middle of it, pillow held tight to her chest above her crisscrossed legs. She was the one bit of exuberance in this austere, nearly empty, and most certainly minimalist penthouse, I noticed. No paintings adorned the walls, and even the low glass coffee table between us bore nothing more than a single stack of agate coasters. How did a personality so chipper stand living here? No wonder she was eager to make friends with a visitor and have some entertainment…
Speaking of which. "What will you start with?" Naru asked.
"Um." I fidgeted where I stood, raking through my mental roster of poems. "Do you like Robert Frost?"
She did, she said, so I launched into his poems I'd memorized long before, in a life I no longer lived. "Birches, "Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening," "The Road Not Taken" and "Fire and Ice" constituted the majority of my repertoire as far as Frost went (each one delivered with the theatrical panache I'd learned from my former father, who loved reciting poetry with all the flair of a Broadway actor). From there I dived into "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" by William Wordsworth and "Do not go gentle into that good night" by Dylan Thomas. She was not yet satisfied, though, clapping and applauding after each recitation and calling for more, for encore after encore until my voice grew hoarse. I gave her Harold Hart Crane and Emily Lazarus, next, and some William Butler Yeats for good measure before diving straight into Emily Dickinson. Naru looked enraptured by it all, though Dickinson had her pillowing her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees, remarking upon each poem with dreamy sighs and exclamations of admiration. Soon my library of poems neared its end (unless she wanted me to dive into the Shakespearean soliloquies my great uncle Harold with the fake Scottish accent had made me memorize when I was seven, so I could recite them at the Thanksgiving dinner table for his amusement). My brain echoed cavernous in my head, empty thanks to the glut of poems I'd spilled, and with one final burst of inspiration I managed to recall Dickinson's "Nature, the Gentlest Mother."
Naru loved it, perhaps even more than the others. When I spoke the final line she heaved a dreamy sigh. "That was so beautiful. I love the imagery, the extended characterization of Mother Nature. She truly had a way with words, Emily Dickinson. A hidden genius until so long after she left this world." She lifted her chin off her hands to ask, "How did those last stanzas go?"
Dutifully I told her: "When all the children sleep / She turns as long away / As will suffice to light her lamps; / Then, bending with the sky, / With infinite affection / and infiniter care, / Her golden finger on her lip, / wills silence everywhere."
Naru sighed again. "So lovely." Her neck drooped, chin on hands once more. "And so sad."
"It has that feeling of nostalgia to it," I agreed.
"No." Naru's voice came a little firmer, though it still rang with her soft tones. "It's sad."
I didn't say anything—both because I was tired of speaking, and because Naru's eyes had hardened. Not with anger. Not with malice. They'd hardened with… determination, maybe? It was hard to tell, but if softness can be hard, then in that moment, thus was she.
"Mother Nature," she said, and she shook her head. "We talk about her as if she's a human woman, but she's not. She isn't human at all, and soon there will be none left to call her as such, though. Soon it will be just birds and wolves and bunny rabbits, rampant squirrels and impetuous birds." She spoke that last line in English, borrowing descriptions from the Dickinson poem I had just recited for her; Naru had a quick memory, one belied by her earlier girlish charm. She scooted to the edge of the couch and peered at me with pleading eyes, begging me to understand something she hadn't yet had time to voice. "That's why I so wanted us to be friends, Keiko. I have to make friends with other girls before they all go away."
My voice was born in a whisper. "Go away?"
"Yes." The hard cast to her eyes melted, back into the sadness she'd worn before. "All the children sleep as nature, the gentlest mother, wills silence everywhere." And then that firm not-hardness returned, resolute and strong. "It's for the best, Keiko. It's for the best, even if I might be lonely afterward."
"But where will the girls go?" I said, although I already knew the answer.
And Naru told it to me, just as I suspected she might: "They'll go where the boys are going. Where all the humans are going." A sad, bitter smile. "They'll go away from here."
Itsuki—who had remained behind the couch to watch my performance—shot her a sharp look, one she did not see. "Naru, don't—"
But it did no good. Naru rose to her feet and padded around the coffee table, taking my hands in hers and holding them close, like she feared I might run, or might strike, or might not believe what she had to say. Her eyes (Sensui's eyes, a villain's eyes, the eyes of a man who wished to end the world) filled with tears and bored into my own, earnestness worn both like a target and a shield.
"I'm sorry," Naru said as a tear coursed down her cheek. "I'm so sorry about it. I'm so sorry. But it has to be done, you see." She lifted my hands and pressed her forehead to my knuckles, feverish against my cold skin. "You must believe me, Keiko. For the good of the rest of everything, all the children must sleep."
Bile rose high and hot and gritty in my throat. My instincts warred, telling me to run and to play nice with this delicate persona, and I found myself frozen against her hot flesh.
But then one instinct won over the other and I blurted: "I'm sorry—where's the bathroom?"
Naru lifted her head from my hands, hurt shining in her eyes. To the side, Itsuki lifted his hand, pointing toward the door to the left of the TV.
I fled.
The bathroom was a minimalist as the rest of the house. Sink, toilet, shower. That was all. Not a single toiletry other than a cake of soap next to the hot water faucet, which I cranked to max as I shut the door behind me and leaned my hands on the sink. My messy red nails stood out like blood against the white porcelain. Steam—hot and wet, the exact opposite of the cold, dry air outside—lapped against my face like the tongue of some affectionate beast, a dog soothing the emotions of its owner. I breathed deeply through my nose until the nausea abated, and then I switched the water to cool.
All the children must sleep, Naru had said, but she meant that in a way unintended by Dickinson. No. Naru meant "sleep" in a way that was utterly Shakespearean.
"To sleep, perchance to dream," as Hamlet said in his soliloquy.
And in Hamlet's soliloquy, "to sleep" meant "to die."
I cupped my hands, filled them with icy water, and drank down a slug of liquid, though I spilled most of it between my shaking fingers. I rubbed the excess water on my face and neck, the cold waking me up a little. Suddenly my eyes felt heavy, or at least I remembered to pay attention to them and note their ponderous weight. My dress's high neckline seemed to strangle out of nowhere; I unbuttoned the top two buttons and rubbed water on my chest, breath hitching in time with my pounding heart.
My hand rubbed across something warm and sharp, long and thin, that snaked against my skin like a living thing.
I froze.
I didn't have to move my hand to know what lay under it. It was the crux of my plan, after all—my plan to get out of here, and to spare my friends the burden of saving me from this place. My fingers scrabbled for the small metal object. Held it tight inside my fist. Felt the heat of it, warm from the glow of my skin.
My charade of being a willing captive had gone on long enough, I decided. I'd had my fill of this hidden canon. It was time, instead, to leave here, and to put my plan into action at last.
So: I did what needed to be done, and I left the bathroom.
Naru had joined Itsuki on the other side of the couch. They looked up and toward me when the door creaked open, but I caught a flash of their hands laced together atop the back of the couch, Itsuki tucking hair behind Naru's ear with more tenderness than I expected from the even keeled demon. Naru looked at me with wide eyes, but Itsuki murmured something in her ear that made her draw in a deep breath.
"I upset you," Naru said. She dipped an apologetic bow, hair swinging like a black curtain on either side of her face. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right." A lie, but she didn't need to know that. Still, Itsuki's eyes narrowed, so I knew I had to let something slip. I amended, "It was just a shock, the things you were saying."
Itsuki's eyes narrowed further. He stepped to the side and slid behind Naru, arms around her shoulders as he pillowed his chin on her shoulder.
"She doesn't even know the whole truth," he said, mouth twisting toward her ear, "but you could see it in her eyes, couldn't you, Naru?"
She tucked her hands over his arm, clinging to him. "Yes. I could. She's smart." Yet again, her eyes took on the weight of immense sorrow. "You think humans have good in them. Don't you, Keiko?"
"I—yes," I said. "Of course."
The weight grew heavier. Naru sighed, Itsuki's arms closing around her in time with her exhaled breath.
"I mean. Humans are all different," I said, though why I felt the need to defend my statement I wasn't sure. "Humans can be good. They can be bad. It's all grey, I think."
But Naru only looked sadder, and once more Itsuki whispered something against her ear. Her eyes fell shut, head lolling back against him.
"So naïve, Itsuki," she lamented, as if I wasn't even there. "She's so naïve, and she doesn't even know it. I feel so badly for her."
"Yes, Naru. As do I." His golden eyes fixed upon me, as if to sear me to ash where I stood. "If only she could be enlightened."
"If only." Her lids lifted, eyes glittering black beneath them. "And to think, she could have been such a good friend. It is so sad we met when we did and not sooner."
"Don't despair, Naru," said Itsuki. "There is time, if he finds her worthy."
My heart thudded into my stomach, bouncing off it like a trampoline and up into the column of my neck. Its beat rattled in my ears like drums—because there was no mistaking whom Itsuki meant.
Naru understood, as well. She twisted in his arms to look at him. "Worthy?" she said. "You mean you think he might want to make her one of our special friends?"
"Perhaps," said Itsuki. He curled her hair behind her ear, looking down into her face with undisguised warmth. "But you have to ask him, don't you? You have to ask him to look at her, and judge her."
"But… but it's so late," Naru said, voice the merest whisper. "We have so little time."
"Yes. But it is as you said, Naru. You must treasure the friends you have while you have them. Even a short time left together can be infinitely sweet." He turned her my way, arms around her once again. "Look at her," Itsuki said against her cheek. "Look at her, and see. I believe she could be useful." His lips curled, a grin that all but writhed across my skin. "I think he'll agree, if you only look."
"All right, Itsuki," Naru said. She relaxed a little in his grip. "I'll look."
The urge to step backward, to cloister myself inside the bathroom and out of sight, rose high and hot and strong inside my chest, but somehow Naru's stare kept me pinned cleanly to the floor. Her eyes distanced themselves, vacant but somehow intense, and then with a snap they focused again—and they focused directly on me. With a motion too sharp, too precise to truly belong to Naru, those eyes flickered up and down my body, gauging and assessing as my hackles rose and the hair on my arms prickled to attention.
When Naru next spoke, her voice deepened to a rich, smooth baritone, and at the sound I froze absolutely solid.
"You were right, Itsuki," said the voice that was not Naru. "She could indeed be very useful in the days to come. How silly of me, not to see it sooner."
And then the intensity cleared, delicate delight taking its place. It was Naru who said, "Oh, do you mean it? Do you really mean she can be one of our special friends?"
The intensity returned like a bolt of lightning. "Yes, darling Naru," he (because I am sure this was a 'he' who spoke) thundered. "She can."
Naru returned again. She shrugged Itsuki aside and rounded the couch with an exclamation of pleasure. "Did you hear that, Keiko! He approves!" I backed up a pace, but she caught me and grasped my hands in hers. "You're about to be one of our most special friends. Aren't you excited?"
"Uh. I mean." I tried to pull my hands away, but she held to them tight. "We're already friends, so—?"
"But we're not friends the way we could be." Regret flickered through her gaze. "But you're so nice. I'm sure you think this world is good, don't you?"
"I mean—like I said, I think that people are grey, and that—"
She blinked, then sniffled. She let go with one hand so she could wipe at her eyes, which had begun to fill with tears again. "My heart is breaking," she said, but she shook her head. "No. It's broken already. It's shattered like a mirror as it reflects your face, and soon I will see that reflection disintegrate into something new. But don't worry." She reached for me, cupping my cheek and giving one of her kindest, most earnest stares. "We'll make it better, soon."
"I—" I said.
She turned from me. "Itsuki. I think we need the video." And she looked my way before her words could truly sink in. "I'm so sorry, Keiko. But it's for the best."
By the time she finished speaking, her meaning caught up with my reality. Itsuki walked away, past us toward one of the doors and disappeared through it. I yanked my hands from Naru's, but like a striking snake she captured them again, regret and apology and kindness etched into her face like scrimshaw.
"I'm sorry." My words sounded clicking, mechanical. "I don't have time for a movie. I really should be getting home. My parents will be worried sick."
Naru shushed me, once more reaching for me face. "Don't fret. It'll be over soon, and I'll be here to hold you when it's finished." She stepped close enough to press her forehead to mine, bending to stare directly into my eyes with a wide smile. But the tears hadn't stopped falling, and the array of emotions on her face made me almost dizzy. "Don't worry, Keiko. I'm here for you. Because we're friends."
Over her shoulder, I saw Itsuki emerge from bedroom with a video tape in his hand.
The sight of it gave me the strength I needed to wrest myself from Naru's grasp. I yanked away and stumbled, backing up until I hit the windows overlooking the downtown skyline beyond. The lights of the skyscrapers cast red and blue and green prisms across my hands as I held them up, warding Naru and Itsuki away with all the strength of a newborn cat. "Itsuki, no, please no, I can't—"
Itsuki walked to the TV set. Turned it on with the press of a button. Cool eyes looked me up and down, their detached gaze not matching the smile on his mouth. "Interesting. You're scared of this little video cassette." He held it up, waving it at me, and laughed when I pressed my back against the windows. "One might think you already know what it contains."
He was no help, then. "Naru," I said instead, desperation cracking my voice like glass on pavement. "Please. Please don't do this to me. Please don't. If we're friends, friends accept each other, even their shortcomings, so please please please don't—"
For a moment, I thought Naru might actually listen. She pressed her fingers to her lips and looked at me, still crying, and did not move.
But then her head cocked to the side. Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling. A beat passed in silence.
Naru nodded, heeding the words of voices I could not hear, and strode briskly toward me.
Despite my pleas, my cries for mercy, my demands for them to respect my wishes, Naru latched onto my wrist and dragged me to the couch. Her nails dug into my wrists as she forced me onto the cushions, her arms possessed with strength I hadn't sensed in her before. She watched over her shoulder as Itsuki inserted Chapter Black—that video that would surely ruin me, that video that was sure to corrupt and degrade and destroy me from the very first frame—into the VCR below the television set. Naru gave a nod when the screen lit up with an odd black glow that hurt my eyes and lodged behind them like the beginnings of a migraine, and as Itsuki stepped away from the TV, she let go of my wrist.
This was a mistake on her part. The second she let go, nails easing backward out of my skin with her retreat, I bolted. I ran for the window and the amazing view beyond, air screaming in and out of my chest with every breath. I was already hyperventilating, and the video hadn't even started.
Naru made a sound of distress, but Itsuki pressed pause on the VCR and frowned. "You do," he said. "You do know what's on it. Spirit World has kept you more informed than I assumed."
"Don't—don't come near me!" I rasped. I held up a hand, the other braced against the icy window. "Don't touch me, I can't—"
"Keiko," Naru said in an attempt to soothe. "It will be OK, I promise. I'm your friend. It will hurt for a little while, like a vaccine first entering the bloodstream, but then…then the world will open. You'll see the truth." She stepped my way, sorrow in her eyes as I moved away and out of reach. "Truth isn't something to run from. It's something to embrace, even if you must swallow the dire pain of it, first."
"No. No!" I snarled. "I refuse, I won't, I will not watch that video, I refuse—!"
Naru didn't move—but from behind her, Itsuki lunged my way.
I screamed. I couldn't help it. Tension stretched inside me so tight I couldn't keep the sound inside, nor could I keep from babbling incoherent protests as Itsuki chased me down the line of windows, around the kitchen island, and back toward the couch. Naru watched our game of cat and mouse (because Itsuki was definitely treating this like a game, letting me run and tire before he pounced) with her mouth behind her hand, tears still slipping like gems from her dark eyes. Itsuki chased me back to the couch and then around it to the TV, and to get away from him I vaulted over the couch, his hand just missing the hem of my flapping dress. I hit the ground funny, though, and canted to one side, back toward the windows I had to once more brace myself against. Both hands pressed flat to the glass, the reflection of my terrified face filled my vision, frantic breath fogging the glass with every ragged exhale. City lights peppered the image of my face with diamonds. I squeezed my eyes shut when I saw the ghostly figure of Itsuki advancing behind me, but knowing this was no bad dream I could wake myself from with a thought, I forced my eyes to open again—but a shadow flickered behind the pale moon of my reflected face.
I looked past myself.
And I saw it.
It's funny, what happened to me when I saw that flash of electric gold. The wire inside me slackened, tension draining like water from a tub, and my breathing calmed at once. My heart ceased to stammer in my chest. My hands slid from the window and dropped to my sides, shoulders straightening and head lifting as the gold flash repeated once again. My chin inclined. I reached for the neckline of my dress and reached beneath it, grabbing the golden pendant that lay warm against my skin.
In the reflection of the window, the bauble pulsed bright pink in a steady rhythm, heart-shaped light beating in time with my own.
"I'm sorry, Naru," I said, eyes still locked on the world beyond the glass. "But friends don't treat friends like this."
"Oh, Keiko." She sobbed somewhere behind me, every word gummy with emotion. "Oh, Keiko. Poor Keiko."
"I'm sorry," I said. I turned to look at her and Itsuki both. For Naru I forced a smile, but when my eyes met Itsuki's where he stood (much close than I would have liked) I let the smile drop. "I'm sorry, but this is goodbye."
Behind me, the windows shattered.
Itsuki threw up his arms to shield his face, and Naru screamed, but I barely heard her or saw him thanks to the wall of glass that came exploding inward, carried indoors on a frigid and screaming wind. We were twenty stories up on New Year's Eve; the wind acted as such, threatening to suck me backwards and out of the skyscraper to the ground below, but just as I started to slide backward in the grip of the wind, I collided with something solid. An arm slipped around my waist, and in my ear a soft voice said, "May I have this dance?"
My eyes—which had shut as soon as the glass peppered my back with stinging shards—opened.
Sailor V stood at my side, one hand raised above her head, hand wrapped in the end of a golden chain that extended backward into the sky beyond. A wall of heart-shaped chain links of that same golden energy filled the space between Itsuki and I, floor to ceiling, a net of protection that would keep us from him. V's hair floated on the freeze, undulating and snapping with the beat of the wind, and when I saw her eyes flash triumphant blue, I couldn't keep from smiling back.
"Thought you'd never ask," I told her—but before she could sweep me off my feet, Itsuki moved.
We looked as one in his direction. He picked his way with dancer-like grace over the shimmering debris on the floor, a field of stars that did not deter him in the slightest as he approached the golden barrier filling the empty air. I tensed as he raised his hand, but when he brushed his fingertips over the shimmering strands, they brightened and let off a crackle of even brighter light. His fingers—now blackened at the tips—trailed smoke, and I'm certain they must've sizzled (though I couldn't hear for the roaring wind). He stepped back with a scowl, but I saw now more because Venus yanked on the chain in her hand. The light trailing from her fist pulled taut and then yanked us up and back out of the window; my stomach surely stayed behind even as a screech ripped from my lungs, and with startling clarity
I felt one of my shoes fly clean off my foot as we were wrenched skyward.
I'm not sure if I saw the stars above or the lights of the city as we sailed away from Itsuki's grasp, but there was really no telling. The world spun over on itself in a kaleidoscope of colors, lights, and intermittent darkness, wind buffeting every part of me at every turn, and to keep from falling ill I squeezed shut my eyes and clung to Minato (no, to Sailor V, that's who he—I mean, she was in this moment, per her long-ago request) as tightly as I could. It seemed we winged through space for a hundred years, but in only a few seconds we came to a jarring stop on solid ground. I'm sure I would've broken an ankle had V's arm around my waist not kept me aloft, her super powered legs taking the fall instead of my average human ones. My stomach struggled to catch up with the rest of me as we came to that thunderous stop; I breathed deeply, in and out, as wind struck through my hair and sent it flying.
"Keiko," V said.
I opened my eyes.
We stood on the edge of a skyscraper, staring down at a street full of rushing cars, headlights glancing off of slick windows and casting disco ball reflections like a sky of spinning stars. V lifted one gloved hand and up and pointed across this street, and for a second I wasn't sure what she meant to indicate—but then I followed the direction of her masked eyes and saw it. I saw the long stripe of shattered window across the street, midway up the adjacent skyscraper and only a few floors above our perch.
Itsuki, Naru tucked safely under his arm, stared down at us.
V wasn't interested in a staring contest, though. She grabbed my hand and tugged me after her with a cry of "Come on!"—but I pulled my hand from hers, and I did not allow her to move me.
It was curious, what happened then. The way Itsuki's voice wormed its way inside my skull, resonating in the depths of my brain as if he spoke directly to it. At first he only said my name, politely asking me to wait, to listen, but as V once more snatched my wrist and pulled me after her, his tone changed.
His tone changed, and he made a demand.
He made a demand I didn't dare acknowledge, or think about, because it was too terrible, too dangerous, too insane to comprehend—but in spite of the insanity, I felt myself nod. I felt myself nod, and through the unspoken connection we inexplicably shared, I heard myself tell him, yes.
Good, came Itsuki's reply, and he nodded back as V clamped down and pulled me after her into the dark.
Itsuki did not follow us.
He had promised me he would not.
NOTES
Those SOS beacon necklaces Minato gave to Kagome and Keiko weren't just for show. ;)
I was super excited to work with one of Sensui's lesser-known personalities, only alluded to but never shown in the manga and anime. Naru, the gentle poet personality, the one woman of Sensui's seven personas, and the one Itsuki loves most second only to Shinobu… but Shinobu did make an eerie appearance, which was fun. And finally, those random bits of poetry I've memorized became useful…
I forgot to mention it last week, but while on hiatus I wrote a one-shot for Children of Misfortune that showed the gang reacting to Keiko's disappearance (from Kurama's POV, no less). It's in chapter 12 of that collection, so please go check it out if you haven't already.
Also forgot to mention Children of Misfortune chapter 13, another one-shot I released during hiatus that shows another potential Switcheroo character from a certain 90s magical girl anime… and no, I don't mean Sailor Moon. Enjoy!
Many thanks to all those who came out and welcomes LC's return from hiatus! You made my day and I was so happy to know you were still here when I got back. Thank you endlessly for your comments and support; you make the time it takes to create these chapters each week worth it: Skylar1023, LadyEllesmere, C S Stars, Sky65, Deamachi, candyrocks13, Trinity aellos, Yakiitori, EdenMae, shen0, DiCuore Alissa, XxHeartMenderxX, tatewaki2000, Konohamaya Uzumaki, xenocanaan, Domitia Ivory, Marian, wennifer-lynn, cocobyrd87, Blaze1662001, Vyxen Hexgrim, jade marie 501, Bergholt Stuttley Johnson, Kaiya Azure, Silverwing013, Sweetfoxgirl13, ahyeon, Viviene001, Aihi8, Laina Inverse, kittenfood, buzzk97, Biku-sensei-sez-meow, IronDBZ, MissIdeophobia, rya-fire1, Xalmtris, AnimePleasegood, general zargon, GuestStarringAs, Dark Rose Charm and two guests!
