Chapter Ten: Wolf at the Door
A/N: Another chapter after too long a break – we're both very sorry, but it just couldn't be helped. There were holidays, illnesses (ourselves and others), various drama and angst and I think both of us started new jobs since the last chapter. We're thankful for anyone who's still reading, and we're likewise thankful that Aoi is STILL our beta, despite our snail-like pace.
O, what may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!
Measure for Measure, III ii
Shigure rolled over, only to awake with a jolt against a warm figure next to him. Wh... oh. Hime-chan. He nudged her gently, brushing her arm with his nose. Feels a little less warm. Hopefully her fever's gone down. As for me, I'm thirsty. He climbed off the bed, careful not to jostle her. Let's see... I think they remembered to fill my water dish before they left. The Dog paused in the doorway, letting out a soft, humorless laugh. My water dish. How the mighty have fallen.
He limped through the living room, heading for the kitchen. Or have I, really? Sleeping with the fair princess, keeping her distracted from my true nature, taking scraps from her table... His claws clicked lightly on the tile of the kitchen floor. Of course, hime-chan isn't as complex as Akito. "For which I'm profoundly thankful," Shigure muttered, lowering himself to the dish. It was charmingly misshapen, evidently the lopsided result of some amateur attempt at pottery, but it had water, and that was all that mattered.
Likewise careless of appearances, he lay down, taking his weight off his wrist, and leaned over, lapping up cool water as he closed his eyes and thought for a bit. Sho-san was posting hime-chan's flyers, and for that Shigure was unendingly grateful, because it was one less thing for him to worry about. Right now, all he really had to concentrate on was not transforming, and his injuries were doing a fine job of that, certainly. It probably didn't hurt that hime-chan had taken to sleeping curled up against his back, which had to be playing some sort of role in keeping him dog-shaped. And the longer she's sick, the more she'll sleep – the more she sleeps, the better my chances are for staying like this.
"I may just get out of this yet," he mused aloud, pushing himself to his feet and limping out of the kitchen. As he took ginger steps back to the bedroom, a soft, muted sound – like footsteps – caught his ears, which pricked up and swiveled to his left. Curious, Shigure turned and walked back to the living room.
Someone was at the door. He could hear movement and a muffled jingling before the sound of a key scratching in the lock. It couldn't have been Sho or Hikari – neither of them had keys to hime-chan's house. Her parents, maybe? I suppose that's possib—
The door opened, and a man walked in, closing the door behind him and sliding out of his shoes. The Dog couldn't quite pin it down, but something about him set Shigure's teeth on edge. Maybe the way he was impeccably groomed, or the way he walked in like he owned the place – or even the way he smelled: of stale cigarette smoke (igniting a craving so strong, Shigure nearly twitched) and the thin, chemical scent of synthetic vanilla – cheap perfume. Now, that's interesting, Shigure thought, sitting down and wondering just what kind of man hime-chan typically gave her house-key to. He doesn't look old enough to be her father. A brother, perhaps? But there wasn't enough resemblance for that to be the case.
Much became clear when the new visitor turned and saw Shigure sitting placidly in the hallway. Watching him carefully, the Dog tilted his head in a perfect facsimile of canine inquisitiveness, panting and otherwise remaining entirely dog-like.
The newcomer's eyes widened, then narrowed as he clenched his jaw. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. I told her to leave it with—dammit. Akemi! Akemi!" he called out, crossing the living room on his way to hime-chan's bedroom.
Nice to meet you, too. You must be Takashi-san, Shigure thought with a slight lift of his eyebrow. He watched as the mystery guest came forward, ostensibly on his way to hime-chan's bedroom – where hime-chan was supposed to be resting, so as to have enough strength to assemble a dinner better than breakfast had been. Besides, his benefactress had taken him off the road, gotten him medical attention, and had been keeping him warm, fed, and comfortably drugged for several days now.
The least he could do in return was let her sleep.
I think you can wait until hime-chan wakes up on her own, he thought, looking up at Takashi and curling his lip in a snarl. Shigure was a little unnerved at how easily it came to him, this canine reflex, and he wasn't at all sure how foolish he looked doing it. He'd certainly never transformed in front of a mirror just to see how well he snarled.
Evidently, he didn't do too bad a job at it – Akemi-hime's gentleman caller had stopped in his tracks and was watching Shigure, wide-eyed. This pleased the Dog to no end, and he added a soft growl just for effect. When the visitor took a step back, Shigure relaxed his upper lip and let the growl die away in his throat.
There. Now that we understand each other, let's sit down like civilized—
"Akemi! Akemi, god damn it, get out here!" Takashi yelled, panic creeping into his voice, giving it a ragged edge.
Shigure bit back a curse. Can't you shut up? But short of pouncing on the idiot - which would not only require effort, but probably ruin hime-chan's carpets - he couldn't think of another way to encourage the man to be quiet. Besides, it was too late. The bedroom door slid open behind him, and he masked a curse with a short bark.
"Quiet, Kuroi." Hime-chan's voice was hoarse and tired, and Shigure caught himself cringing reflexively at having made her speak even that much. "Hi."
"I thought we'd agreed -- you look like hell."
Shigure lay down stiffly. What a smooth talker.
"I'm sick." Akemi rubbed her forehead wearily. "I was sleeping."
Takashi frowned, all his irritation seeming to fall away. "Honey, why didn't you call me?"
"I did. Six times."
"That's funny, I didn't --" He slid his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. "How did I miss that?"
"Don't know." She winced a bit. "'m going back to bed."
Takashi stepped forward, and Shigure resisted the urge to nip at his ankle. "Is there anything I can get you?"
Akemi smiled at him gratefully. "Water?"
"Of course. And soup?"
"...Not hungry." Akemi shuffled back into the bedroom and closed the door. Takashi stayed in the hallway, staring at the door, then swore softly under his breath and started for the kitchen. Shigure followed, hoping to keep the man away from the bedroom long enough for hime-chan to fall back asleep.
He sat in the kitchen doorway, watching with bemusement as Takashi shrugged out of his suit coat and hung it on a chair, then fished out his cell phone and flipped it open, punching in a series of numbers and tucking it between his shoulder and his head. "Hi, baby." A pause. "No, we're taking a little break, and I'm getting a drink of water."
Shigure felt his jaw sag open when a feminine voice answered. Did he just call another woman? From hime-chan's kitchen?
Takashi filled the glass and leaned against the counter, listening to the woman's scolding tone on the other end of the line, smiling disdainfully. When he spoke, though, his voice was gentle. "I know, I'm sorry I had to break our plans too. But this was important." He drank from the glass. "Tell you what. If we get out early, I'll come over and you can have me all to yourself." He paused, then laughed softly. "Yes, I'll even turn off the phone."
Conciliatory noises. Shigure considered biting the man on the leg.
"Is that all right? Okay, good." He listened again. "Yes, I love you too. Bye." He put the glass down and closed the phone, sliding it back into his pocket. Takashi looked at Shigure and smirked. "Our little secret, hmmm? Man to man?"
Che. Our little secret, nothing. I've juggled women myself, but I was tasteful about it. If it wouldn't ruin my dignity beyond recall, I'd piss on that off-the-rack discount suit you're wearing. Shigure lay down on the floor, watching him idly.
Takashi refilled the glass and walked towards the door. Shigure yawned elaborately. I'm not moving for the likes of you.
"Come on." Takashi glared down at him. "Move, dammit."
Shigure lowered his head and rested it on his paws.
"Don't go to sleep, I said move." He prodded Shigure with his foot. Shigure swallowed a yelp and jerked as the side of Takashi's foot unerringly found a sore spot. He smiled grimly. "Well, that got your attention, at least." He stepped through the doorway and headed down the hall to hime-chan's bedroom.
Shigure lay still for a few moments, eyes clenched shut as pain that had been subsiding with several days' worth of rest came roaring back to the surface. He breathed slowly through his nose until the sharp throbs became bearable again. It was several minutes before Shigure was able to construct a coherent thought beyond the haze of pain and righteous anger that had flooded his mind.
He really, really disliked Takashi.
He was torn between two urges: first, to hobble his way into hime-chan's bedroom and sink his teeth into the foot that had nudged painfully into his side. For one fleeting instant, human sensibilities were overwhelmed by long-suppressed canine instinct. Second, he wanted to curl up in a comfortable corner of the couch and ignore the bastard until he left.
Given those two, Shigure was almost surprised to find himself limping carefully down the hallway to hime-chan's closed bedroom door. He really wanted to crawl onto the warm bed where he'd been sleeping, surround himself with a familiar scent and sleep. And part of him wouldn't have minded a gentle scratch behind the ears, either. Moving as stealthily as he could, he lay down by the door, carefully working a claw in and sliding the door open quietly.
When he saw Takashi on the bed, sitting in his spot, Shigure caught himself swallowing another growl. Disgusted, he rested his head on his uninjured paw and closed his eyes. He'll have to leave sooner or later, particularly if he's got plans. Honestly. Hime-chan, I thought you were smarter than this.
He'd been resting quietly a few moments when a snatch of conversation floated down, making Shigure's ears twitch again.
"Come on, Akemi-chan..." The rustle of bed linens, followed by the soft squeak of a protesting mattress.
"Taka, I'm tired. And I can't breathe. And I feel awful."
"I bet I've got what'll make you feel better."
"I haven't even brushed my teeth..." The mattress squeaked again.
"So, get up and brush your teeth. I'll keep the sheets warm."
He isn't suggesting what I think he's suggesting.
"I have a fever, Taka. I don't feel like it."
"You know I can make you forget all about it, Akemi-chan." Shigure cracked one eye open in time to see Takashi run his hand up hime-chan's arm. She shifted on the bed, pulling her arm under the blankets and scooting away from him.
Oh, my god. He is. You've got to be kidding me.
"I don't feel up to it, honey. My sinuses are killing me. I just want to sleep."
"You've been sleeping all day." Takashi's voice had taken on a wheedling tone, and Shigure felt the fur along the back of his neck bristle. "Come on, just a little quickie..."
The Dog rolled his eyes. So much for something to make her "feel better."
"Takashi." Hime-chan sounded tired, her patience stretched past all endurance. "Please."
Stay out of it, Shigure told himself pushing himself up into a sitting position. If she wants to marry this idiot, that's her problem; don't interfere. But the desire to "interfere" was growing—
"Fine," he snapped, and the bed squeaked again as he stood. "Never mind; it doesn't matter. You obviously don't want to. I've been gone all weekend; I just thought you'd want to spend some time with me."
—as was the urge to bite Takashi on the leg.
"Taka—"
"And what the hell is this?" A pause. "Dog hair? Don't tell me you've been letting that animal sleep on your bed."
Well, technically it should be your bed I'm in, since you were the one who hit me, but I just don't like you that much.
"...Okay, I won't tell you." She rubbed a hand over her face, pressing her palm against her forehead; Shigure wondered if her fever were coming back. It certainly made sense – Taka was certainly making him feel ill, and he was perfectly healthy, injuries notwithstanding.
"Christ, Akemi – what were you thinking? He could have fleas."
That made Shigure look up, sharply. I beg your pardon? Fleas? I do not have fleas. Unless I picked them up from you, you cheating, groveling, puling, miserable --
"Is that thing growling?"
He was growling, Shigure realized, and only sheer dogged reflex kept him from betraying that he could understand them by stopping.
"He's not a..." Akemi trailed off with a weary sigh and lifted her head to regard the Dog. "Kuroi, that's enough." Her tone was sharp despite – or because of – her fatigue, and Shigure clamped his jaws shut, sinking down to the floor, and resting his head between his paws. She drew in a deep breath and let it out before turning her attention to Takashi. "Can we not argue about this? I'm exhausted, my head hurts..."
Shigure could almost hear the clicking of the calculations being done in Takashi's head. In fact, he felt as if he could recite, perfectly, everything the other man was about to say. It took nearly all his concentration to keep his jaw from moving.
"I'm sorry. I'm being inconsiderate." Takashi sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I shouldn't ask you to strain yourself when you're not feeling well."
Akemi looked up at him. "I am sorry." She smiled ruefully. "I'm not much fun when I'm sick. You're right – you've been gone all weekend, and I have missed you..."
I think I'm going to be sick, too.
Takashi ran a hand over hime-chan's head, combing his fingers through her bangs. "I know, and I missed you, too. I think I'm just a bit overtired myself."
"I can imagine – all those meetings." She reached up and touched his cheek. "Why don't you go home and get a little rest yourself? I'll be okay. I just need to sleep."
"Are you sure?"
Hime-chan nodded and leaned back to snuggle under the covers. "Sho and Hikari came by and brought me some soup. I'll be fine."
He smiled and brushed a kiss across her forehead. "Then why don't you work on getting better? I'll tell you what – once you're back to normal, why don't we take a trip to that onsen you wanted to stay at?"
She brightened. "The one in Kyoto?"
"The very same."
"I thought you'd be sick of Kyoto."
"Well, going there on business is one thing. Touring a beautiful city with my lovely fiancée is something else entirely."
Yes, I'm definitely going to be sick.
Takashi left shortly thereafter, leaving a happily ignorant hime-chan behind to sleep. Shigure sat by the edge of the bed, glaring at the spot where the man had been sitting earlier. The sheets now smelled of cigarette smoke and fake vanilla; he wondered how Akemi could stand it. She was sprawled out, her head tilted back slightly on the pillow; her lips were parted as she breathed.
She probably can't even smell it, all stuffed up like that. Lucky her.
Even so, the bed was still more comfortable than the floor, and with that thought firmly in mind, Shigure climbed onto the bed and curled up in what had become his customary spot. Hime-chan rolled onto her side and snuggled up behind Shigure; he felt the heat radiate off of her, soaking through his fur. On top of everything else, that ass had brought her fever back. He shook his head, yawning widely. "If you've got fleas in your bed, it's his fault, not mine."
She didn't respond; he wasn't surprised.
You're a fool if you marry him, hime-chan.
Hatsuharu looked at his list, then at the sign on the door. He'd had very little luck so far, finding the veterinary clinics slowly, with long, winding journeys between each new clinic. He was almost certain he'd started out with a map with the locations marked on it, but it had vanished, along with a wristband, his house keys, and his spare bike lock. Haru patted his pockets absently. Think my student I.D.'s gone again too. Oh well. He'd lost it frequently enough that the office at school had a stack of forms filled out ahead of time, and simply initialed a new one each time he showed up.
No, I think it's this clinic. He frowned. If it's not, I can just say I found another one. Haru pushed the door open and wrinkled his nose at the medical smell that met his nose. He ignored the way the people in the waiting room clutched their pets a little closer at seeing him and walked over to the receptionist. "Excuse me."
"Yes?" She looked up and blinked. "Oh. Hello. What can I do for you?"
Haru smiled at her, rolling his eyes mentally when her eyes glazed over slightly. "Hi. My family's dog went missing a few days ago, and I was wondering if he might've been brought here." He dug a slightly crumpled photo out of his hip pocket and passed it over. "That's him."
The receptionist stared at him for another second or two before jerking her eyes away and looking at the photo. "Oh, of course. I remember him. Kazuhaya-sensei's friend brought him in; her fiancée hit him with his car. It was horrible; he's a gorgeous dog."
Haru froze for a second, feeling panic and rage swirl inside him, pushing him closer to the Black edge. "Was he..."
"No, no." The receptionist passed the photo back. "He was fine. Just a little banged up. He went home with her to recover since we didn't have any room in the kennels."
He sagged in relief, sliding the photo back into his pocket. I did not want to have to tell Hatori-nii that sensei died. "Okay, so... do you have her number or something? We'd really like to get him back as soon as possible."
"The doctor brought in a poster that has her information. It's on the bulletin board over there." She nodded at a cheerfully decorated corkboard that had various notices pinned neatly to it.
Haru smiled at her one more time. "Thanks a lot."
She smiled back, hopeful. "Is there anything else I can do?"
He shook his head and went over to the board, scanning the flyers. Only one listed a large black dog, and he pulled it down, stuffing it in his pocket. Now to go home and tell Hatori-nii the good news. He would have called, but his cell phone (as well as the calling card Hatori-nii had given him, for reasons Haru didn't quite understand) had traveled the same path his student I.D. had, and . Haru opened the door, ignoring the disappointed sigh of the receptionist, and stepped out into the daylight, squinting a bit.
"...How did I get here, again?"