Disclaimer: PoT isn't mine. I just borrowed the characters.

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Five

Tezuka sat down in the living room a few minutes later, feeling quite awkward since he had had to replace his pants with a fluffy, white towel. Hopefully the floor heating in the bathroom would get them dry quickly, since making the long trip home in wet clothes was probably the best way to catch a cold. And he wouldn't be surprised, he surmised as he sank a little deeper into the cushions, if he had caught a cold already.

Outside darkness had fallen completely. He couldn't see anything through the large window facing the garden, only his own reflection starred back at him. Fuji soon joined him, carrying two steaming mugs. A faint smile crossed his pale face at Tezuka's odd outfit, but it soon morphed into his usual smile.

"There should be a blanket beside the couch." He told Tezuka, while he walked over to the window, took a look out into the garden and then drew the curtains close. The utter blackness had been gnawing on his nerves ever since he had set a foot into this house and he just couldn't calm down as long as he didn't know what might be lurking out there.

His first impression had turned out to be dead on; just when he had hoped for nothing more than to be wrong. Something was happening on the premise of this building and they had already come into far too close contact. Not only once, but twice.

And next time it might not just be a cat…

Fuji shook his head and dropped down beside Tezuka, who'd wrapped the blanket around himself and for a moment Fuji wondered, whether they couldn't just wait here until the sun rose again. It would be easy to curl up here, yet …

The wards ought to hold.

But that thing had been terrifyingly powerful.

"Does it hurt?" Tezuka suddenly inquired, glancing at Fuji's bandaged arm.

Fuji shook his head, attempting to cast off his dark contemplations for the time being. "Not really. Those were only scratches after all."

Tezuka nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you for pushing me away, though. I had no idea that cat was going to attack."

Fuji swallowed and kept his eyes fixed on his teacup. If he had to answer honestly, he hadn't expected it to attack either – only the moment he had laid eyes on the creature, something in the back of his mind had started screaming.

There hadn't been enough time for him to figure out what exactly it had been.

Things had happened too fast.

But the lack of footprints – a shudder ran down his spine.

"Though that cat did act quite strange." Tezuka abruptly said, voicing his own contemplations. "I had expected it to rush inside – it was probably cold and hungry."

Fuji nodded silently.

Tezuka pursed his lips. As bizarre as those events had been, there surely was a logical explanation. "Maybe the cat perceived us to be some sort of a danger to itself." He reasoned, thankful his voice came out steady.

It was the only rational deduction.

Yet ...

Some deep, irrational part of his heart urged him to remain suspicious. And watch Fuji closely.

"Yes." Fuji replied eventually and Tezuka couldn't help thinking his friend appeared less then convinced. He did not like the haunted expression that lingered on Fuji's face – and not for the first time in his life he wished he could inquire directly without having to find a pretext to hide his concern behind.

"Say, Tezuka." Fuji broke the quiet after a couple of minutes, starring into his teacup. "Have you seen that cat before?"

Tezuka blinked.

"No." He answered, though on the inside he wasn't certain. A shudder ran down his spine. He had seen a black cat like this before, but …

Fuji tilted his head and glanced over at his friend. "Didn't the late Mori-san have a cat?"

So Fuji had remembered the picture in the entrance hall. "She had." He said, and then confirmed. "It was a black one, just like the one we saw outside."

And that wasn't the only similarity.

Tezuka violently pushed that absurd thought out of his mind. "It died in autumn this year."

Fuji turned to him and for a split second their eyes met. Tezuka found the irrational ideas that plagued him mirrored in Fuji's eyes, ye before his mind could consider the impossible he averted his gaze.

Now was not the time to start believing in the occult.

Not when the darkness outside might just ...

Tezuka pursed his lips. The encounter with the cat must have shaken him more deeply than he admitted to himself – there was no other explanation for the delusions his mind had suddenly begun to entertain. He took a sip of his tea and it burned his tongue.

Fuji didn't notice the grimace crossing Tezuka's face since his eyes were fixed on the collection of knickknacks on the shelf on the other side of the room. In the back of his had an idea had started forming – yet he dreaded connecting the dots.

"Maybe the cat came from somewhere else." Fuji thoughtfully whispered and with Tezuka starring at his hands he never saw Fuji's lips twist into an ironic smile.

Instead he reasoned to himself that having been out in the cold for so long and without food as well was more than reason for any animal to turn ferocious. Perhaps it was merely the atmosphere, the absolute silence outside, that made him nervous.

Once they had gotten back to Tokyo, this would be nothing but a distant memory.

"Tezuka." Fuji broke the heavy silence. "You mentioned Nakayama-san was an archaeologist, didn't you? Do you know what he specialized in?"

Tezuka glanced up, thankful for the change of the subject. "Early history, I believe. With a focus on ritualistic objects and the likes."

"I thought so. That collection is quite fascinating." Fuji commented, clutching the warm tea cup closer to his chest.

Tezuka glanced over to the familiar shelf. "You would like the library upstairs then." He replied with a faint smile. "I never understood much of it, but I was told they own the largest collection of books on the occult in this area."

"My sister would have a field day." Fuji chuckled. Tezuka turned to his friend and realized that while Fuji's tone sounded light, tension remained in his posture.

Unconsciously Tezuka tightened the blankets around himself. The warmth was lulling him to relax, yet his mind warned him not to let his guard down.

"Their collection is quite interesting." Tezuka said, because for some reason he couldn't figure out he didn't want the conversation to wither. "It's not quite my subject, but there are some interesting books up there. As well as some valuable objects."

Fuji straightened, curiosity piqued. "What kind of objects?"

On the inside he shivered. Ritualistic objects – he swallowed.

If any object of this collection had sufficient value to attract powerful spirits he didn't want to know what it was. Further knowledge was bound to drag him deeper into this affair – yet if Tezuka already knew there was a high chance his friend was in danger.

Fuji pressed his lips together.

He did not want to get involved with this. Dealings with the supernatural rarely ended in favour for the human party concerned. But he couldn't leave Tezuka exposed to such a threat without any means of defence.

"Various." Tezuka calmly answered; completely unaware of what Fuji was thinking. Instead he was trying to recall what the Nakayamas had shown him - even though he never had much concerned himself with the explanations. "Many are mythical or religious objects – sacred stones, voodoo dolls, paintings. They even used to keep some smaller statues in the cellar, though I believe they have donated those to a museum."

Fuji nodded thoughtfully.

Tezuka could practically see the cogwheels turning in his friend's head and with pursed lips he hoped Fuji would share his thoughts. Whatever his friend was contemplating, it obviously worried him and Tezuka wanted nothing more than to offer help.

After all, how often had Fuji supported him with well-meant advice without him even having to ask for it? How often had Fuji supported his decisions when even Oishi had been sceptic?

Until now this had been one-sided, though Tezuka wanted to return the favour. Especially now, that Fuji looked so lost in that blood-streaked shirt with an unusually serious expression on his face.

It was an unpleasant reminder that the smiling face Fuji greeted everybody with was probably nothing but a facade. And he could only wonder at what has happening behind that front.

"Was there any special object?" Fuji questioned and upon seeing Tezuka's furrowed brows he lightly added: "Was there anything that caught your attention?"

There was simply no way of asking for an object of value without letting Tezuka notice his motives were more than plain curiosity, and even this question already made his friend raise an eyebrow.

Fuji smiled. "I mean, because it was ... sparkly or huge or just weird? Anything like that in the collection?"

"More than enough." Tezuka grumbled, recalling how at his twelfth birthday he had realized the wooden toys he had been playing with at the age of five were actual African fertility statues and not just oddly shaped dolls.

He decided not to share that particular memory. "Well, they had some antique crosses with gemstones and quite a valuable set of rings from India. There were also some ritual daggers and a few swords, but Nakayama-san always used to say their books were more valuable than the entire collection."

Fuji's smile turned grim.

The Nakayamas had truly understood their job. Some objects out there were worthless – if one lacked instructions on how to use them.

"That sounds like quite a lot." Fuji replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. "I think I'd have preferred that to the pendulums and pentagrams my sister used to occupy herself with when I was younger."

Tezuka caught the dry smile on Fuji's lips and shrugged his shoulders. "I believe I would have as well."

Fuji Yumiko was a formidable woman, Tezuka knew all-too-well. And he had little doubt she had just been as frighteningly impressive as a fifteen-year old wearing a school uniform. Where Fuji smiled innocently, Fuji Yumiko had a smile that made one's blood run cold.

"Anyways, when does the last train leave?" Fuji asked, interrupting Tezuka's thoughts.

Tezuka glanced at his watch. "There's still some time. But we could try to catch the next one as well – that leaves in 45 minutes and we would be home just a little after midnight."

"Unless we splurge and switch to the Shinkansen." Fuji added and frowned. "If your pants aren't dry we should wait a little longer."

Tezuka shook his head. "They should have dried by now. How is your injury?"

Fuji glanced back to his bandaged arm. The red on his shirt had started turning brown and while he couldn't feel the wound he longed for a change of clothes. And directly after that he would fall into his bed and sleep a long, long time in order to forget everything that had happened tonight.

Once they arrived home there was no reason for them to return to this place.

Once they were home their involvement in this affair was over.

"Fine, thank you." Fuji replied. "How about I wash up while you check on your pants?"

Tezuka nodded silently and they both stood up – reluctant to leave the warm room, yet eager to return to Tokyo.

The moment Fuji opened the front door a gust of ice-cold wind hit them head on. Small snowflakes fluttered around them, melting as soon as they touched the ground, yet he had to squint to make out the garden wall.

"Nasty weather." Fuji muttered, pulled his scarf up and stepped outside. Freezing air assaulted his cheeks instantly and Tezuka could tell temperatures had dropped further. The street lanterns were barely visible through all the snow and the rational side of his mind wondered whether setting out in this weather was safe.

Should the snowfall grow worse they might lose sight of the path.

And then...

Tezuka shook his head and followed Fuji outside. All sounds were swallowed by the howling wind, the snow muffled what might have remained and the darkness appeared twice as impenetrable.

Fuji frowned, peering into the night while Tezuka turned off the lights in the house. He could barely see the trees, and the madly dancing snowflakes confounded his eyes. Nervousness coiled in his stomach – he wouldn't be able to detect movement from the corner of his eye under this conditions.

Nor would he be able to sense anything when cold was all he could feel.

Meanwhile Tezuka cast one last glance over the entrance hall. All shoes and slippers stood at their supposed places, none of the pictures were out of order – he pressed his lips together.

He had consciously avoided looking at the pictures.

Now he couldn't help it.

The cat Mori-san held on her arm was black, just as the one that had attacked them had been. A beautiful animal with soft fur, tame and very attuned to its proprietor. Nobody had been too surprised when the two of them had died shortly after another.

Tezuka squinted, only to discover what he already knew.

The black cat on the photograph was wearing a jade-green collar. And even though he'd only glimpsed it for a second, he was quite certain the cat that had attacked them had worn one as well.

... it made no sense.

How many black cats in this country had green collars? How many of them did look just like one of late Mori-san? Tezuka did not need to consult Inui to know chances weren't high.

And yet there was no sane alternative.

Tezuka shuddered.

Then he decisively shook his head and told himself to think no more of it. Tomorrow, once the sun had risen and the excitement had worn off, he would be able to make sense of today's events. Now his priority was getting Fuji and himself home as quick as possible.

The following morning started out little better than the previous day had ended. While the snowfall had lessened, many roads were blocked and traffic moved at a snail's pace. Since temperatures had fallen further, clearing roads became more and more difficult - a small puddle of water would be frozen within half an hour if left undisturbed and the snow kept piling up.

Tezuka met Fuji at a pedestrian crossing on the way to school and was granted a tired smile as a greeting. Fuji looked like Tezuka felt – tired, cold and exhausted. They had eventually decided to pay more and take the Shinkansen last night, but it still had been midnight until Tezuka had gotten home.

And the moment he'd woken today his throat had been sore. He'd contemplated staying home – his mother had even suggested it at the breakfast table – yet in the end there were too many matters he had to take care of.

Fuji beside him stifled a cough behind a gloved hand and Tezuka raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Nothing much." Fuji replied with a rare, honest smile. He might have felt tired enough to actually plan on cutting classes in order to sleep, but the nervousness had drained out of his body. The trek from the house to the station last night had been hell – more than once he had believed to see somebody following them, only to find the snow had been playing tricks on his mind.

His nerves had been frayed when they had eventually reached the train station and he'd practically dropped dead the moment they had sat down in the train bound for home.

But now that he had his student ID back he could just forget about everything that had happened.

From today on whatever happened at a remote house near Nikko no longer concerned him.

That madness was over.

Fuji drew a deep breath and dispelled the last lingering thoughts pertaining to that spirit – right now he had upcoming exams to worry about.

Few people lingered in front of the school building. It partly due to the fact that they were early and almost all clubs were on pause due to either exams or the weather. Furthermore, Fuji surmised, the freezing cold wind that made him shudder might have provided a good reason to hurry inside.

"It's quiet." Fuji remarked.

Tezuka tilted his head. "That's good." He replied and Fuji chuckled. Trust Tezuka to prefer silence to the usual cacophony of excited chatter and giggling.

"How very much..." Fuji forgot what he wanted to say the moment they entered the school building.

Tension hung thick in the air, all chatter was subdued. Groups had converged in corners, while other students silently hurried past and for some reason Fuji felt as if everybody was starring at them. For a second a frown crossed Tezuka's face, but it was gone too fast for anybody to notice.

Did he hear somebody sobbing?

Fuji raised an eyebrow. "Did anything happen?" He wondered while they made their way to the lockers.

The hallway was atypically crowded, filled with raised voices and sobs. Various ideas of what might have occurred filled Tezuka's mind and none of them bode well. Probably some frustrated student had vented his anger by leaving graffiti all over the lockers of his antagonists - a method as popular as stupid.

A girl hurried past them, her face green.

Carefully he pushed his way through the crowd, glad his authority made other students step back automatically, while Fuji stayed behind him. Shortly before he turned the corner, a familiar voice called out to them.

"Fuji, Tezuka!" Kikumaru Eiji was waving, but his cheerfulness had vanished this morning. Instead his face was ashen and his voice sounded unusually serious. Dread coiled in Tezuka's stomach.

Fuji turned to his classmate, a question on his lips, but Tezuka wanted to find out what exactly had happened first.

Eiji's eyes widened. "You shouldn't..."

Tezuka rounded the corner, the crowd parted –

And then there was blood.

tbc

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