I know I promised more frequent updates on this fic, I apologize. This chapter is dedicated to Aishuu, who gave me some very good advice when I felt like dropping this fic all together. I would also like to thank each and every one of you who have reviewed this story, whether it's been once or several times. I enjoy writing this fic, but it's really you guys who keep it coming. Thanks again, guys. Hope this chapter measures up to your expectations. ^^
Chapter 10 - Kamui Makes a Mess
"Right this way, Kamui-san."
Agreeably, Kamui followed the nice blonde man. Without question, he was excited about his new job. He would make money and give it to Fuuma, which would mean that Fuuma could stop working so hard. Recently, he'd noticed darkish circles under his owner's eyes and that was simply unacceptable.
The man led him up a narrow, steep staircase to a storefront with blackened windows. He made Kamui wait outside while he popped into the store to see if everything was ready. While he waited, Kamui glanced around at the area, taking in the details. He'd never been to his part of the city before. Just visible around the corner of the building was a sign framed in blinking red lights. Though he couldn't make out what was written on the sign, he was intrigued by the lights' patterns. They were flashing in such a way as to make them seem to move in a circle. He wondered if there was a way he could get closer to see the lights and see if they were really moving. He took one step down the stairs when the man popped back out.
"You're not leaving us, are you, Kamui-san?"
Kamui turned and shook his head and pointed. "The lights—"
"Ah yes," the man said, gently tugging on Kamui's arm to pull him inside. "We're all set for you, Kamui-san. If you'll follow me." The man urged him onward, toward a door at the end of the hall. The man pushed open the door. "Now, go in and sit down, and we'll get started." Before Kamui could protest, the man gave him a nudge in the door and closed it behind him.
The room's interior was very, very pink. Above his head hung a lamp that emitted a soft white light. Glancing around this new place, Kamui noticed that there were no corners. The room had been constructed in a circle. Every four feet, a small screen was set into the wall just above the floor. Curious as to what lay beyond those screens, Kamui crouched in front of one, his nose almost pressed to the lattice. He could see the faintest movement as he poked the metal, and he blinked.
"Kamui-san," a voice appeared out of nowhere and Kamui jumped, skittering back from the screen. Looking around the room, he couldn't see anyone. "Please come away from there." He recognized the voice as belonging to the man, but he was still totally confused. Where was it coming from?
"Where?"
He heard a soft laugh come from above him. "I'm in another room, Kamui-san," the man explained. "I'm talking to you through the intercom. Please go over to the stool and sit down."
"Who is there?" Kamui asked, pointing to the screen as he backed up and made his way to the stool.
"Those are our clients. They're here to see you." Out of nowhere, like the voice before, a soft music began to play. Kamui shook his head and said nothing more. This place just didn't make any sense. Disembodied voices and strange, caged clients. . . he'd ask Fuuma all about it later. Fuuma would be able to explain it in a way Kamui could understand. Having nothing else to do, he took his place on the stool.
"Very good, Kamui-san. Now, the clients are especially interested in your design. So, if you would please remove your pants and socks. Slowly."
---
"Kaichou."
Impossible.
"Kaichou…"
Nokoru frowned in a way that could be considered 'dark.' He was facing a complete and total dead end on the Kamui question. This, of course, was entirely unacceptable. There had to be someplace else to look. Someone else to ask.
He'd run a search on both women in the picture, posting cropped images of them in strategic areas of the Web, and had come up empty-handed. He tapped his fan against his cheek with one hand, his other hand playing with the frayed tassel dangling from the sandalwood. Someone knew who those women were, no one in life was so easily hidden from the public, nor so easily forgotten. Whoever knew simply hadn't been contacted yet.
Or they weren't talking.
In frustration, the blonde boy slammed his fan down on the table in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. He hated being in the dark. And this problem was of the deepest pitch.
"KAICHOU!"
Nokoru blinked, turning to glance at Suoh with a startled expression on his face. "Yes?"
His blue-haired persocon shared a look of total exasperation with Akira, who merely shrugged. Suoh directed his gaze back toward his creator. "I just picked up a signal that you are going to want to see."
Sitting up a little bit straighter, Nokoru gestured to the television monitor expectantly. Suoh sighed and connected himself to the screen and turned it on.
Nokoru coughed. Loudly. The image was fuzzy, but had all the makings of something even his worldly mind had been privileged to have avoided. "Suoh," he began carefully. "Are your filters working correctly?"
Before the persocon could answer, and the response was looking to be an extremely peeved one, Akira gasped in shock. "Kamui-san!"
Moving closer to the screen, Nokoru scrutinized the video feed. And felt his heart sink. Monou-san's persocon sat in the middle of the candy-colored room, half of his clothing on the floor around him. He was currently fighting with his necktie, which refused to come off. Silently, Nokoru thanked whatever god was listening that Kamui did not understand how a sliding knot worked.
"Do you know where this is coming from?"
"Contacting Monou-san now." Suoh responded. After a moment, he shook his head. "There is no answer at his home."
Sighing, Nokoru tapped his chin with his fan. "Call Arisugawa-san, please."
---
"Where the hell IS he?" Fuuma gasped, leaning against a lamppost. He'd searched the entire neighborhood, stopping anyone he could find and asking them about Kamui. A fair amount of shop owners admitted to seeing him, but it had been hours ago. With the stitch in his side making breathing painful, Fuuma grumbled furiously to himself. He could believe very easily that Kamui had wandered out of the neighborhood. After all, he couldn't remember telling Kamui to stay close to home. Stupid.
How on earth was he supposed to find Kamui when the little persocon had a several-hour head start on him? Pushing off the post, he resumed his jog through the busy downtown streets.
He'd stopped several short children, then apologized profusely to their parents, before hearing a familiar voice, although not the one he expected.
"Arisugawa-san, please wait up!" Fuuma whirled at the sound of his sister's voice, catching sight of her coming out of the arcade just a few meters ahead of him. He watched her as she ran to catch up with the now-stopped Sorata, his eyes narrowing. What was she doing out on a school night? He wondered, picking up his pace to follow the pair as they meandered down the sidewalk. He couldn't catch what the Kansai boy said to his sister, but she looked momentarily shocked, then burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her hands.
What was she doing with Sorata, of all people? He crept up behind them, managing to stay only a few steps behind.
"So, I told Takahashi-sensei," Sorata was saying. Fuuma watched as Arashi climbed up onto her owner's shoulder and position herself beside his ear. Said owner had failed to notice her. "It couldn't have been /me/ who'd thrown the chalk, 'cause I--"
"SORA-CHAN!"
The punch line of the story was cut off by Sorata's pained squawk as he clapped his hands over his ears. Arashi clung to his jacket, though from his vantage point, Fuuma could have sworn she looked pleased with herself.
Sorata turned tearful eyes on the mobile unit. "Nee-chaaaaaaaaaan…" he whined.
"You have an incoming call." Arashi responded primly.
Rubbing his ear, Sorata gestured for her to connect.
"Arisugawa-san?" Fuuma recognized this new voice as well. He wondered what Nokoru wanted with Sorata so late in the evening. He would have thought it was past the kid's bedtime or something.
"Yo, Nokoru-san! What can I do for you?" Sorata, it seemed, didn't find the call odd.
"Is Monou-san with you?"
Sorata glanced at Kotori, perplexed. "I'd hope not," he said. "What do you want him for?"
There was a pause on the line as Nokoru hesitated. "There's a problem with Kamui-san…"
Both Sorata and Kotori let out yelps of surprise as Fuuma nearly plowed them both over in his zeal to grab ahold of Arashi. "What?" He demanded, reminded of his mission by the name of his persocon. "What's wrong with him?"
If Nokoru had been similarly taken off guard by Fuuma's sudden appearance, he didn't mention it. "We picked up a video feed with him in it." Nokoru did pause then, hesitating once again before pushing forward. "Monou-san, why is he working at a peep show?"
A long pause followed the question.
"He's WHAT?!"
---
Kamui freed the final button on his shirt and let it slide down off his shoulders, just like the man's voice told him. It pooled at his feet with a soft rustle, lying atop his discarded pants, socks and that awful tie. When he got home, he would ask Kotori not to put him in neckties anymore. The man had gotten impatient with him when he'd had such a hard time getting it undone. He didn't want that to happen next time.
As he'd taken off his clothing, he'd started hearing little noises from behind the screens, sounds he'd guessed were good, since the man had kept telling him what a good job he was doing. The praise had made him happy; if he did his work well, maybe they'd let him model all the time.
"Now, Kamui-san," the man piped up, the voice floating down from the ceiling speakers. "Slide your hand into your underwear, and play with yourself."
Kamui blinked. "Play?" He repeated, his fingers stalled at the waistband of his underwear. This was yet another thing he didn't understand. Playing was for toys or sports. He was all by himself, how was he supposed to play?
"Yes, play." The man's voice was gaining that edge of impatience again. Biting his lip, Kamui started to push his fingers past the elastic.
"No."
Kamui startled as a different voice, once very similar to his own, breathed in his ear. He looked over his shoulder, but there was no one.
To his side, the door to the room opened enough to allow the blonde man to enter, then snapped shut. The man appeared to be upset as he hurried across the room to Kamui. "Don't you understand, Kamui-san?"
Wide-eyed and confused, Kamui shook his head. Sighing, the man stood at his side, pressed up against his shoulder. One of the man's larger hands took hold of Kamui's and plunged them both into his underwear. Kamui wriggled against him; something about this wasn't right.
"Stop him."
There the voice was again, the voice he knew he'd heard before, but could not remember where. The man's fingers inched downward, the other hand grabbing his knee and spreading his legs open. "N..no.." Kamui whimpered, his protest falling on deaf ears.
Suddenly, everything froze. The man stopped moving, the music and the other noises abruptly shut off.
Kamui felt a touch on his other shoulder and turned to see /Kamui/ at his other side. His reflection was clad in all black, the shirt he wore was covered in shiny silver buckles. A pair of tight, shiny pants began where the shirt stopped, the only differentiating factor being the change in material. Combined with the pure fury burning in his violet eyes, the whole effect came across as very intimidating. For a moment, Kamui was certain that neither /Kamui/ nor the man were safe.
Behind his eyes, he saw Fuuma's face and whispered his owner's name. He wanted the boy to come and save him.
/Kamui's/ eyes narrowed sharply as he reached across the terrified persocon and violently wrenched the man's hand away. Kamui watched as the force of the separation sent the man toppling to the floor. Then a pair of gentle fingers coaxed his face away from the man, bringing him to gaze into those intense eyes. When Kamui broke out into a fit of trembling, the other brought their lips together in a soft kiss, then folded him into his arms, stroking his hair.
"It's all right, Kamui." He said, the soothing tone belying the anger in the face Kamui could no longer see. "You're safe now. But you can't let anyone touch us there," /Kamui/ continued, pulling back so their eyes met.
"What happen?"
/Kamui/ touched his cheek. "It turns us off." He said softly. "And we'll never wake up again."
Kamui's eyes widened as his mind prompted all sorts of horrible things that would cause. He wouldn't be able to do the laundry again, or help Kotori make dinner…
He'd never see Fuuma again.
/Kamui/ embraced him again, his fingers once again threading through his hair. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I won't let that happen.
Ever."
---
Fuuma, Sorata and Kotori had just rounded the corner to the "Pleasure Parlor" – What had Kamui been thinking, letting himself be taken to a place like that?! – when the front of the building blew out into the street. All three of them staggered as the ground rocked below their feet. Sorata swore and pulled Kotori out of the way of falling brick as Fuuma felt his heart tighten in his chest. Kamui.
"Monou-san, what happened?" Nokoru's tinny voice called from Arashi's connection.
Fuuma scanned the dust in the air for any sign of his persocon. "Something happened up there!" He shouted back, scrambling for the staircase, his level of panic on a very quick rise. He would never forgive himself if something had happened to Kamui. He couldn't imagine what had led the persocon to this place besides the possibility of employment, and that left him with a massive feeling of guilt in and of itself. If Kamui was somehow hurt…
He didn't want to think about it.
"Monou, look!!" Sorata's voice rose above the gathering noise of the crowd, turning him around just in time to see a slight figure wrapped in a white sheet leap from the building, hopping from one lamppost to another. He couldn't mistake that mop of black hair and those ears.
"Kamui!" He called, but the persocon paid him no attention, moving further and further away. Ignoring whatever Sorata and Kotori might have shouted at him, he took off in pursuit.
The night air burned in his lungs as his run grew steadily slower, already worn out from all of the running around he did in searching for Kamui. He swore under his breath as he lost sight of Kamui, stumbling to a halt. "Imonoyama-san, can you trace him?" He couldn't lose him. Not when he could be hurt. Or scared.
Dammit, Kamui needed him right now, and he couldn't even get to him to help.
"I found him, Monou-san," Nokoru replied after a moment. "Feeding the directions to Arashi right now."
"Thanks," Fuuma managed as the line was disconnected in favor of giving Arashi back her control. She glanced up at him with a faintly worried expression.
"Turn left, Monou-san."
Getting a fresh burst of energy from somewhere, Fuuma took off down the street. Arashi continued to direct him, bringing him out into the small park outside of the Meiji Shrine. The open space was full of people milling around, some shouting, others running around in confusion. Distantly, he heard a screech of tires and then a crash as two cars collided off to his right. "Where to now, Arashi?" When he received no response, he looked down at his hand.
Sorata's persocon stared blankly up at him, unmoving. He shook her gently, frantically hoping that in his zeal to get to Kamui, he hadn't accidentally crushed her or something.
It was then that he began to hear what people were actually shouting about. All around him, citizens of Tokyo were calling to their persocons, who had all frozen in their steps, unwilling to be moved. Some had halted in the middle of the streets, stopping traffic and causing the crash he'd heard. All of them had the same blank look in their eyes. A sudden swell of voices brought his eyes up to the top of one of the lampposts.
He watched, mouth hanging open as Kamui alighted, giving off a soft but noticeable glow as an unseen wind swirled the sheet around him and tugged at his hair. Fuuma had seen that light before, when he'd activated the persocon. He had no idea what caused it now. "Kamui!"
Not surprisingly, Kamui didn't respond to his call. His persocon carried the same look as the rest of them, though every so often, Fuuma though he saw a spark of activity in the solid purple eyes. Stuffing Arashi into his front pocket, he rushed through the crowd, trying to get closer to the lamppost. Despite the futility of it, he kept calling Kamui's name.
Suddenly, the glow faded, as unexplained in its dimming as it had been when it had existed. There was a faint flicker of intelligence in Kamui's eyes before they closed. The wind stopped.
And Kamui plummeted.
Fuuma barely arrived in time to catch him as he fell, cradling the motionless persocon in his arms as he tried to get him to wake up. All around him, the machines that had frozen came back to life. The slight disruption ended, most of the people resumed their lives, relieved to have their possessions back. In his pocket, Arashi came back to life, he felt her stir and shake her little head as if waking from a dream.
Only Kamui remained still. There was an unexpected tightness making Fuuma's chest hurt as he looked down at him.
"Kamui… please wake up…."