Agatsuma Soubi sat in a plastic chair in the small hospital room, his head in his hands. His little Sacrifice lay next to him, breathing quietly in a deeply drugged sleep. Ritsuka's wrists were wrapped in bandages and an IV sluggishly dripped sugar water into his veins. Machines monitoring his heart rate and blood pressure bleeped faintly.

This is my fault. All my fault. Edward was right. What kind of Fighter am I…

He sat up and stretched his long legs, only to wrap them once again around the legs of the small chair, coiled in anxiety. How had he allowed this to happen… Ritsuka had been right there, in his apartment, just a few short hours before, and he had looked, well, fine. A little irritated with him, maybe, but certainly not… suicidal. He gave no outward sign. Soubi couldn't have known. And yet…

And yet, he ought to have known. A part of him had always suspected he would end up right here, just like this, one day. One day, Ritsuka's mother would get a little too violent; one day, he wouldn't be able to predict his mood swings; one day, he might get desperate enough to try to… take his own life.

It had nearly killed him, finding Ritsuka as he had. He'd searched for him everywhere, finally having to rely on his Fighter's sense alone to pick up his signal; his life force was so weak, he was almost invisible. When he saw him lying there, his face pale and lifeless, his little body strewn across the garbage bags like an abandoned rag doll that some young girl had long forgotten, crimson blood still dripping from his torn wrists… it was all Soubi could do to keep the fabric of his world from unraveling completely.No. It can't be true. No! He rushed forward and fell to his knees, heedless of the filth in the alleyway, taking his Sacrifice into his arms. He placed his head against Ritsuka's chest and desperately, desperately listened for the sound of his tiny beating heart. Please. Please. God, if you exist. Anyone. Please. Let him be alive. Let him be okay. Please…

When he finally caught the faint echo of a heartbeat, Soubi wept in relief. His frame shook with sobs as he crushed Ritsuka to him, thanking every god he didn't believe in for divine mercy he didn't feel he deserved. Not knowing what else to do, he had rushed to the nearest hospital. When they had asked for Rituska's name, he'd given it, and when they had asked for his own name, he'd lied and told them...

"Aoyagi Seimei?"

Soubi broke out of his reverie and looked up. The doctor was calling him. "Yes?"

"If you would follow me, please."

Soubi hesitated; he didn't want to leave Ritsuka alone.

"This will only take a few minutes. He wont wake; he's been thoroughly sedated."

Glancing one more time at his sleeping Sacrifice, Soubi followed the grey-haired doctor outside the door and down the hall. He remembered him as the surgeon from last night; an older gentleman, seemingly kind. He'd reassured Soubi that the wounds on Ritsuka's wrists were not deep enough to be deadly. It looked much worse than it was, he had said. The boy would be fine. Soubi could have kissed him.

The doctor stopped in front of an x-ray display and clicked it on. He pointed out where Ritsuka had sprained his wrist, likely from falling on it, though it had been damaged previously. Did Aoyagi-san know anything about the previous injury? Soubi replied that he wasn't sure, but he thought it had happened while Ritsuka was at camp. And the cut on his cheek? At camp as well? Soubi nodded, his insides curdling like sour milk. He didn't like being a part of this deception, but he didn't know what else to do. Was there anything that Aoyagi-san wanted to tell the doctor? Anything at all?

Soubi looked down. "Ritsuka sees a… a psychologist."

"I see. Do you have his or her name? They should be informed about this incident." He was jotting down notes on his clipboard.

"I can… get it for you," Soubi answered slowly. "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me… Can we be sure that…" Soubi was unused to being at a loss for words. The crafting of ideas into sounds, the gentle spells that they cast: these things were his whole life. Yet in this moment, his spellcasting skills abandoned him, and he just stood there, looking at the doctor with desperate, pleading eyes.

"That the wounds were self-inflicted?" Soubi nodded. The doctor continued, "It's hard to say. The markings on the left wrist were consistent with scrapes from a fall. The right wrist bears a single laceration from a sharp object. You reported that you did not find any such objects at the scene?"

"I... I was somewhat… distracted."

"Understandably so. Well, until we know more, I'm afraid, as the results are consistent with a suicide attempt, I'll have to report it as such. He will need a psych evaluation before being released, either with his own doctor or one of ours. Was there… anything else?" The doctor's piercing blue eyes seemed to shine straight into Soubi's troubled conscience. All of a sudden he felt the urge to do something utterly unlike himself. The thick liquid of truth was boiling up inside him, stuck in his throat like bile, making him want to retch. What kind of Fighter are you…?

Soubi coughed. "Doctor, there is… something."

"Yes?" The piercing eyes narrowed.

"His… our… mother…"

A screech echoed down the hall from the direction they had come. Soubi's heart stopped. Ritsuka. He flew back down the hallway, leaping over gurneys and hospital equipment, wind gathering from nowhere blowing back his hair. She's here. They called the house. They told her Seimei was here. This is my fault.

His fears were confirmed when he saw the nurses rushing to call security, pointing into the little room where he had abandoned his Sacrifice, whom he was sworn to protect. One glance through the window was all he needed to see. That horrible woman, raising her hand against her helpless little boy who was lying unconscious, completely defenseless.

Power radiated from his body like lightning. Aoyagi Misaki was slammed against the wall before Soubi even put his hand on the door. In an instant he was at Ritsuka's side, frantically examining him to see if he'd been hurt further, trembling hands struggling to fix the IV that had been partially ripped out of his arm. Nurses and security guards rushed into the room, demanding to know what had happened.

Hands started to pull him away from Ritsuka, and Soubi panicked. The windows shook. The room grew dark. Bottles of liquid exploded. Soubi clung to Ritsuka, willing himself to calm down. He felt sick; he had disobeyed a direct order, attacking Ritsuka's mother like that. Waves of nausea washed over him; he forced himself to breathe. I've got to be okay. I can't afford to lose control. I don't have time to be terrified. I must be okay. I must be okay for Ritsuka.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, he willed everyone in the room to be still and silent. Gently, he began to weave his version of reality into their minds. Everything is fine. The crazy woman slipped and hit her head and is now unconscious. She needs medical attention. She was the cause of all the disturbance. The man sitting on the bed is the victim's brother. He was trying to help. You want to let him stay. You don't need to question him now. Allow him to stay with his brother.

The all-embracing spell dripped into the room like honey, seeping steadily into each individual psyche. The people slowly started moving again, picking up the broken glass and lifting Misaki off of the floor. A nurse approached Soubi and asked softly if she could put Ritsuka's IV right. Soubi let her do it. Ritsuka didn't seem to have suffered any further damage. Breathing a sigh of relief, Soubi turned to the doctor, who had just stepped through the door. An astute man, he took one look at the surroundings and nodded in Soubi's direction.

"I see. We shall continue our conversation a little later, then?"

Soubi nodded in return, bending down to kiss Ritsuka on top of his head. He waited for the doctor and nurses to leave. As soon as they were gone, he picked up his cell phone and started dialing frantically.