The next several days weren't easy with neither Subaru nor Kamui knowing what, exactly, they should do next. As much as Subaru had been prepared for his grandmother's disapproval, he hadn't actually planned on what they would do once she'd refuted them. Perhaps he'd unknowingly clung to some naïve hope she might see things their way, which was laughable. Subaru's "way" had gotten his sister killed, had corrupted his powers, and mankind demolished.

Wryly, he supposed that wasn't a terribly persuasive argument.

They eventually settled in an abandoned cottage on the countryside of Kyoto—untarnished and beautiful albeit devoid of any humans—and eked out an existence there, surviving off of canned goods and whatever was unspoiled that they could dig up from the nearest town. He didn't wonder who the home had once belonged to; he was just glad to have a roof over their heads.

Kamui already looked thinner and in the back of his mind he knew that wasn't good; Kamui wasn't eating enough, wasn't sleeping enough, wasn't taking care of himself.

And Subaru didn't have the energy to force the issue. His own appetite was spotty at best, and he was weary, both from their journey, the constant battle just to survive, and the fact that the dead were decidedly restless.

That last one plagued Subaru alone. He hadn't said anything to Kamui yet because he knew it wouldn't help him to know that the people who had perished, that he felt he had failed, were very vocal even from the great beyond in their anguish and rage and confusion.

Confusion dominated follow by rage. Most of the spirits he saw flitting by couldn't understand what had happened to them. Several were entirely ordinary people attempting to do entirely ordinary things. They didn't notice—or didn't understand—when their actions had no effect on the physical world.

Still, Subaru had had years to accustom himself to the existence and erratic behavior of ghosts and spirits; he'd been surrounded by them his entire life. No, he wasn't bothered, precisely. It's simply that he he'd had an idea and he wasn't sure he liked it all that much. The fact of the matter was that he and Kamui were looking for the living, and the only people they had to ask for directions were those who had passed on.

He contemplated this one morning while Kamui was still tossing fitfully in bed in the other room. He was situated at the table in the dining room, and didn't that feel strange. They'd found quite a nice home to settle in, actually. There weren't even any ghosts demanding they leave.

It felt hollow all the same. Every night, Kamui would come to him and he would silently allow him into the bed that wasn't his own, and they would silently stare at the ceiling, saying nothing. Subaru knew Kamui was only barely holding the force of his despair at bay, but Subaru could only do so much. He was far too preoccupied with his own thoughts to extend any more warmth than he was.

He'd felt so listless ever since they'd left his grandmother's. She was right: they sought a goal that may never be realized.

He gripped the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off an oncoming headache. Kamui wanted to find any remaining humans. They had all of Japan to cover and, if not that, the rest of the world.

Subaru really hoped they didn't have to branch out beyond Japan.

Regardless, he might be able to help with Kamui's task if he was able to both mollify a local ghost and then glean information from it. There was just one problem.

He didn't want to.

No, it wasn't that it was a dangerous plan (although it was) or that the spirits' suffering would bring Kamui pain (it would), the problem was that he'd been actively avoiding his onmyoji skills because they were tainted. He didn't want to reach for his power and feel Seishirou-san there instead, and wasn't that odd? He'd gone to so much trouble to be closer to that man and now he was reluctant to use the power that had been bestowed upon him.

He groaned softly, his headache only growing worse the more he fought against it.

Coward.

He certainly knew that much was true.

So engrossed was he in his own thoughts he didn't notice Kamui in the doorway looking on with sorrowful eyes and a clenched jaw. If he'd been more in tune with his surroundings, he would have felt the fear and worry emanating from him, but that, along with so many other things, escaped his attention.

As such, he startled when he felt two slim arms wrap about his waist and a face bury itself in the crook of his shoulder, not having heard his approach whatsoever. Subaru remained as he was for a moment, frozen and taken aback, before relaxing slightly as Kamui tightened his embrace.

"What's this for?" he finally asked, allowing himself to lean back into the touch. It was such a foreign activity and he felt certain he didn't deserve comfort, but he couldn't deny that he'd always enjoyed these moments with Kamui, was always privately amazed that there was someone he could allow this with that wouldn't take advantage.

"You've been worrying about something," Kamui murmured into shoulder. "You've been sitting here, staring out the window for ages."

He'd lost track of time, but he had no doubt that Kamui was correct. "I've had a lot to consider," he admitted softly.

Kamui took a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly. He searched his eyes with unusual calm before glancing away and saying, "I know it's not my place, but please tell me."

Subaru scrunched his brow up in confusion. What a strange sentiment from one with so much power. "Of course it's your place," Subaru returned. "You're the Kamui."

"That's not what I mean," Kamui said in frustration, finally letting him go to take the seat opposite him. "I don't have a right to your every thought; it doesn't matter if I'm the Kamui or not."

"Hmm." Well, Subaru had his own opinion on that, but the point was admittedly moot as Subaru wasn't telling him everything anyway. Ah, he was being a hypocrite again, wasn't he? When had this become such a problem for him?

"Is it your grandmother?" Kamui asked softly, compassion strung through every word and that left Subaru feeling guilty for an entirely different reason. Yes, it would be logical for Kamui to assume he was in mourning, wouldn't it? He should be; he'd just lost his childhood home along with his only living relative. He'd been so concerned before as well, but knowing she was alive was already more than he'd anticipated. There was no denying that he felt lost at the change, but sorrow? He couldn't quite manage sorrow.

"No," he stated, wishing he were capable of some kind of inflection. "It's not my grandmother. I knew when we arrived that she would be displeased."

"Yes, but," Kamui began uncertainly, once more looking at Subaru as if there was something missing, something he had to tread gently around, "even so, you must be upset."

It sounded more like a question and Subaru considered lying. Perhaps it would ease Kamui's frayed nerves to think Subaru felt as he did; upset, undone, anything.

But he respected Kamui too much for that and their bond hadn't been built on deceit; it had always rested firmly on trust and a unique understanding of one another.

"I miss what we had," he said and that was unbearably honest. "I miss what used to be, but I can't go back to that; that past, that connection, have been missing for years and our relationship was strained for an equal amount of time. Please do not worry yourself on my account."

Kamui closed his eyes and gave a slight nod. "Then what's been on your mind?"

The words were clipped and sharp as glass and Subaru glanced away, wondering if this next admittance would make it better or worse. But he was the Kamui and Subaru had promised to stay with him, to help him, and he could only find the one answer.

"I've been thinking of our dilemma," he began. "I may have a solution."

"All right," Kamui said slowly. "But there's something about this solution you dislike?"

He inclined his head. "It would require me to use my powers. The way I see it, there are two options to us: the first is I send out my shiki until it locates someone."

Kamui waited a moment, no doubt expecting him to go on. When he didn't he asked, with a touch of confusion, "Then why don't you?"

"I don't believe it would have the range required," he answered bluntly. Also, his shiki would have a hard time maneuvering the sheer flood of spirits clinging to the mortal plane.

"Then what's the second option?" Kamui sighed, not even bothering to press the issue. He looked so frail; Subaru would insist he eat something after this.

"The second option is for me to commune with the dead," Subaru continued. "It's significantly more dangerous, however."

"The dead…" His expression darkened, not out of anger, but deep sorrow. This was precisely what Subaru had wanted to avoid. "Then, there are spirits you can contact here?"

"Yes."

He glanced at the window, lost. "Are there a lot?" he whispered.

"There are," he admitted.

Kamui opened his mouth for a moment, changed his mind, and raised a hand to grip his head, no doubt experiencing the same headache Subaru was still combating.

But then his face crumpled and Subaru's heart clenched.

"Subaru…" But he couldn't finish. His voice cracked and he lowered his brow to the table shamefacedly, his hands clutching at the back of his head tightly. Subaru could see the fine tremors that started in his shoulders and winded down through his body. This was the only thing that really moved him anymore: Kamui's pain.

"I'm here," he said softly as he moved to crouch before him. "I'm right here." He gently gripped his hands and moved them away from where they were tugging too tightly at fine strands. He held them tightly in one hand and moved the other to massage his head, to ease the tension there.

Kamui took a deep, shaky breath as if he'd been drowning moments prior. It was a terrible, soul-crushing sound. "I'm here," Subaru assured once more, helplessly.

"Don't go," Kamui whispered. "Promise me you won't."

"I won't."

They stayed like that a while longer until Kamui had collected himself. When he looked up, his face was red and puffy, but his eyes were dry.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't… I already know they're gone, why can't I just…"

"Please don't," Subaru sighed. "You're human, Kamui. You're allowed to feel pain and sorrow, the full spectrum of human emotion and frailty."

"You're managing," Kamui pointed out brokenly. "You haven't been fazed in the slightest."

Subaru cupped his cheek gently, consideringly, before saying, "Do you really think that's a good thing?"

For a moment, Kamui could do nothing but gape at him. Then his expression crumpled. "No," he whispered. "No, in fact, I hate it, I— I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that. I'm glad you're here, Subaru."

"You have no need to apologize to me. I'm not proud of how I've been."

"I don't know what to do," Kamui whispered desperately, and Subaru knew he didn't mean about mankind, he meant about him. "I don't know what I can do to make it better."

He hesitated a moment. He had once told him that it was impossible to make everyone happy, and he still believed that, but how could restating that sentiment help Kamui now? How could any of his foul sentiments help rather than hurt?

For the first time in a very long time, he tried to think of what his sister might do. He often thought of his sister, but usually in a distant, longing kind of way. It had been awhile since he'd thought of her words simply as they were: truths he had lived his life by. But the fact of the matter was that his sister could be harsh in her opinions and that wasn't what Kamui needed right now. Had Subaru known anyone who could offer a gentle word, a careful nudging in the right direction?

Uneasily, he realized he had: his sixteen-year-old self. Now that was someone he hadn't had anything to do with for a very long time. Still…

"I think we need to work together," he began awkwardly. "It… it's not about you fixing me, Kamui. It's about helping one another. Even though we've had such similar experiences, we still can't fully understand one another. Even so, that doesn't mean we can't help one another all the same."

It was alarming how honed in Kamui's focus was now, he was hanging off of Subaru's every word and he looked… desperate, in awe.

"The world has suffered a tragedy," he continued, growing surer of his words. "But so have you and so… so have I," he forced himself to admit. "We can't be the same as we were, but we can… make progress. We can find peace."

He felt very distant from himself for a moment, as if he really had been possessed by his younger self and this old, jaded version had no idea how to interpret what he had just said. Make progress? Find peace? That had never been on the agenda. He'd simply… wanted to die. But then he couldn't because of Seishirou-san's wish, so he'd contented himself with observing the Earth's devastation and accepted he would have nothing to do with it, one way or another.

Only that wasn't why he still lived. Now he couldn't simply die because…

I don't want to, he realized uneasily. It wasn't only that he felt like he owed Kamui after abandoning him and it wasn't that he felt guilt at what his grandmother had said. It was that he wanted to be here, now. Why?

He reached out and stroked Kamui's cheek with the utmost care. Maybe it was because Kamui, as different as they were from one another, still brought an odd sense of peace. There was someone out there who had some inkling of what he'd gone through, had seen it in his very own dreamscape, and was still so terribly, inexplicably attached.

He'd left because he'd been utterly devastated, but… Maybe he hadn't ever meant for it to be forever. Maybe he could have grown attached to the world again eventually. Maybe he'd just wanted to grieve all that he'd lost for a time, uninterrupted by anything else.

The way a normal person would, he realized.

"I'm glad you're here," Kamui whispered fiercely. "I'm so glad, I… I missed you so much. When you left, I wanted to look for you, I wanted to find you, but I didn't know if you wanted me to do so and I…"

"I didn't realize," Subaru admitted, processing his words slowly, considering the implications. How different things would be if Kamui had found him instead; he wouldn't have this eye for one. He probably would have simply returned to the Dragons of Heaven. Had he really been so weak-willed that he would do whatever the first person that found him said?

Perhaps his heart was more afflicted than even he had realized.

"I should have said something," Kamui admitted. "I shouldn't have left you that day."

Subaru blinked as the world turned on its head for a moment. Hearing those words from Kamui instead of himself… it was too surreal.

"I'm the one that left," Subaru reminded carefully.

"No, I… I left first," Kamui admitted. "You were in pain over the Sakurazukamori and I should have stayed with you."

"That's hardly your fault," Subaru sighed, feeling much older than he was. "I wanted time to myself and I wanted to leave. You're very young, Kamui; you can't take on everyone's problems."

"Taking on everyone's problems was literally my job," he snapped. "At the very least, I could have taken on yours."

Something about his inflection, the raw honesty in his words, was simply too much. "I'll make you some tea," Subaru announced suddenly, feeling confused and uneasy. Kamui didn't stop him, but he turned away sullenly. Subaru knew he was being a coward again; he just wasn't entirely sure what it was he was running away from this time. Perhaps Kamui knew.

Their newfound home didn't have any electricity (nothing did), but it was a simple enough matter to go outside and gather some wood, make a fire, and then steep the tealeaves he'd snagged from the kitchen once the water boiled. More importantly, it gave him time to think, which he desperately needed right now.

He'd never really thought about how his leaving might have affected Kamui. Oh, he knew he wouldn't be pleased, precisely, but he hadn't thought it would be yet another thing the Kamui would add to his list of failings. That didn't sit well with him; he'd considered the entire affair his own problem to the point he'd ceased to think of anyone else.

I really am selfish, he thought drearily. I never would have behaved like this as a teen. Apparently, donning his old hairstyle had done nothing to bring back his old mindset. Of course, he'd grown his hair out in an attempt to go back to a time when Seishirou-san was still with him. With that in mind, even he was starting to wonder at how he was managing on a day-to-day basis. Maybe Kamui was right to be so worried.

The water was boiling now. It probably had been for a while. He poured water into the traditional Japanese teacup and stared into it for a moment, taking in his reflection. He wondered what it was that Kamui saw when he looked at him. Surely it couldn't be someone who had any idea of what he was doing even if he had been the one to suggest their next course of action.

When he stepped back inside, Kamui had collected himself though he appeared decidedly… irritated. Irritated and sad. Subaru had never had to deal with an irritated Kamui to his knowledge. He'd heard that this was not an uncommon trait in him, but he'd figured that was Arisugawa-san overselling things. With the combination of how he'd behaved around his grandmother and now this, he was beginning to understand that hadn't been the case.

He extended the cup of tea. Kamui took it and even managed a grudging sip. He didn't glare at Subaru, not exactly, but he was frowning at the cup consideringly, and Subaru knew that whatever had passed between them would make a return eventually.

"So," he said finally. "Spirits."

"Yes." That was much safer territory for a conversation even if it was what had begun this tension in the first place. Granted, he was fairly certain this was the most words they'd exchanged in… weeks, so maybe it wasn't surprising it was going so poorly.

"How dangerous would this be for you?" Kamui demanded.

"Mm, probably a fair amount," Subaru admitted reluctantly. "Their numbers are significant."

Kamui was quiet for a moment. "Then, shouldn't we take care to locate one that's a little less… violent?"

"Agreed. However, that would take more time."

"Subaru," Kamui said slowly, "we have time."

"Yes, but…" But you'd be happier if we found people sooner.

It didn't feel right to say that aloud. Subaru wasn't sure he knew why.

"We'll be careful about it," Kamui said firmly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Kamui wasn't an onmyoji, so he was inclined to say "no," but he was the Kamui; it wouldn't make sense for him not to have any connection to the supernatural. In consternation, he wondered why that wasn't something they'd explored a lot sooner. Perhaps everyone had been too intimidated to even approach the concept of training the savior to be better because a savior was supposed to be perfect already.

Truly, it wasn't Kamui that had failed mankind. More and more, he found himself convinced the Dragons of Heaven had been … poorly managed. After all, the Dragons of Earth, from his very brief interactions with them, had been far from a unified front, and yet they'd accomplished so much more it was frankly absurd.

And wasn't that something that raised a few questions all on its own? But he didn't have time to mull that over (it also didn't matter). He could have Kamui learn now.

"Perhaps," he acknowledged. "I will need to prepare my ofuda and center myself. It would be helpful to have a tether."

"A tether?"

"Something to bring me back if I'm dragged too far into the spirit world," he explained.

Kamui perked up immediately. "I could do that."

"Yes," Subaru said with faint amusement. "I do believe you could."

"What else?"

"I'll also need to purify myself before and after," Subaru sighed. That was going to be the truly difficult part; purifying himself was something the Sumeragi clan did. He had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't something the Sakurazukamori clan had ever bothered with and yet here he was, counted among their number. But… he wanted to contact a peaceful spirit, not cause trouble. The Sakurazukamori's powers wouldn't be of any use.

His real concern was that purifying himself might impact his connection to Seishirou-san, but even he had limits to how selfish he could be, apparently, and the world had ended. He'd promised to help Kamui. What did any of it matter?

"Subaru?" Kamui started, and this tone was a lot more familiar: sad, warm, lost. He'd often sounded that way around him.

"Hm?"

"I wish you'd tell me what was bothering you."

"I don't think that would help," Subaru admitted.

"Wouldn't help what?" Kamui asked quietly. "Are you trying to protect me or yourself?"

Subaru said nothing.

"Is it the Sakurazukamori?" he asked despairingly.

Of course it was. It always was with him. Subaru closed his eyes in response and this time he wasn't surprised at the reaction it garnered. Kamui stood and walked away.


Author's Notes: These two keep dancing around a lot of tension and thus, more tension builds! They're going to have a rough time sorting it all out, but they're making progress, albeit slowly. I'd love to hear your thoughts!