Clary: Ok, I know I promised you guys to be a good writer and write and everything but... school happened... And then, when I finally got a decent-looking chapter (after all the fail ones I made because school sucks off your creative-ness), I went to Lia's house and got caught in the middle of Lia and her sister's bitch-fight.
Lia: Issa, I'm warning you.
Clary: (not listening) So you see, this is what happens when there's a Lia-Elle bitch-fight: they yell at each other (REALLY REALLY REALLY LOUDLY) and in rapid-fire French, too, I swear, I didn't understand a single fucking thing they were saying, so I tiptoed out of their house and ran straight back to mine because no, I do not have a death wish.
Lia: I still ended up yelling at you anyway.
Clary: (sticks tongue out at Lia) FOR A COMPLETELY WRONG REASON BECAUSE IT TURNS OUT, I WAS NOT MISTAKEN AFTER ALL (HAH!) Take that, Lia~ (Why were you fighting with Elle anyway?)
Lia: I called her a belle laide.
Clary: ... (Because I could TOTALLY understand what that meant, Lia)
Lia: Belle laide, roughly translated, means beautiful in an unconventional way. It could also mean ugly-pretty. And you know Elle. She 'should never have nothing to do with ugly.' So I called her shallow and she started yelling.
Clary: Yeah~ (I'm totally in Elle's side~)
DEATH PLAY
Written by: Clary~
Acknowledgements to: Lia (Belle laide, man, belle laide), Alatarielf (we're glad you love Chitose~ we love you just as much~~), phoenixfirekitsune (Yuuta's alice... hmmm.. –thinkthink-), lemon-and-chai (don't worry~ we ish have a plan!), BleuFleur ( :) Lia's under the same opinion as you, with Chitose, actually~), Knights of Cydonia Starlight (we're so glad we didn't misspell your pen name after all~~~ Lia's back to trusting me now~ yey~~), XinYue (wow~ thanks so much~ -huggles-)
XI. MORTO
Syusuke hurt in many more places than what could possibly be allowed. He'd cried the entire night, on the floor, didn't have any sleep at all, and hadn't eaten for almost two days.
His head was pounding, his body was hurting, his stomach was growling, and his eyelids felt heavier than he ever remembered them being.
His heart was hurting.
He stared dully up at the ceiling, waiting for anything to come along. Death, judgement, he certainly deserved it, considering how dirty he was, how impure his thoughts were, he deserved the punishment. Or maybe this was his punishment. All the hurting.
It made sense. Death would be relief; living like this, with the knowledge that his brother could never love him back, was torture.
It made perfect sense, but it still didn't erase the fact that he wanted to die, despite all the pep talk about growing up last night, all he wanted to do was lie down and wait for Death to claim him.
Or maybe he'd just go to Death himself, he certainly had the ability to, he'd just go to Death, and stay there, until he truly felt the currents, until the water would leech the life out of him, and he'd pass through the Ninth Gate and go wherever his parents were. It would help his nii-san, nii-san wouldn't have to worry about a burden any longer, he wouldn't have to take care of the child that was Syusuke any longer, he'd be free to love anybody in the world, without Syusuke bringing him down.
He laughed derisively. And after he'd just decided to grow up, too.
Somehow, anyway, he managed to go to the bathroom, managed to dress, managed to look presentable enough for him to get to class. He skipped breakfast, despite the protests his stomach was sending him, he wasn't stupid enough to go there, face his brother and break down whatever mask he was (somehow) able to put in place.
He trudged to his classroom, he was the first one there, went to his usual seat by the window and stared resolutely at whatever scenery he could see outside. Not that he saw it. He just... stared.
Meiko was in this class, but she came in late, and hardly anyone else ever bothered with Dangerous Types, especially when it was so obvious that they wanted to be left alone. So he was left well enough alone, and class proceeded as usual, or as usual as it would be, with him busily staring at nothing, his teacher busily pretending not to notice and Meiko busily looking over at him anxiously, passing him notes that he barely even glanced at, let alone read.
When the bell rang for second period, Meiko, brazen as usual, grabbed his wrist and dragged him all the way to the rooftop, not minding his mild, half-hearted protests about going to class or his mild, half-hearted begging for her to please just let go and leave him alone. She dumped him against the chain-link fence that surrounded the entire place and towered over him, hands on her hips, glaring viciously.
"Meiko," he started again, trying to think of some assurance that at least wouldn't make him seem like he was lying through his teeth.
"No, I am not going to listen to another fucking word from you until you listen to me," she cut him off harshly, raising her voice to him for what was probably the first time in his life.
"You miss more or less two days' worth of classes, and then when you return, you look worse than I have ever remembered you being, you act like some doll for the entire duration of first period, and you dare tell me there's nothing wrong?" She snarled the last two words out like they were offensive, vulgar things. "What the hell, Syusuke! There is something wrong, and we both know it, so you might as well tell me before I wring it out of your pretty mouth."
Syusuke opened his mouth... and closed it. What was he supposed to say? What did Meiko want him to say? It wasn't as if he could just up and say he was in love with his brother, or that he'd kissed his brother (twice, maybe more) and liked it. He couldn't say that, not to Meiko's face, he didn't have the strength to face how twisted he was deep inside right now, especially not with Meiko watching. But he couldn't tell her anything else! There wasn't anything else. There was the issue and then there was nothing. Nothing. He couldn't open his mouth and explain all the nothing he felt, how do you explain emptiness?
"Ne, Meiko," he said instead, leaning tiredly against the fence, feeling everything that happened last night catch up to him. "There is something wrong, but I'm dealing with it, okay? I'll be just-"
"What, you'll be fine? You'll be fine? You're telling me you'll be just fine?" Meiko was screaming now. "Bullshit, Syusuke! You're obviously not fine, and you're obviously not going to be fine. At least, when you tell lies, find something even remotely believable. Don't give me some crap about how you're 'going to be fine' when you're obviously not, goddamn it. Don't fucking insult my intelligence!"
Syusuke winced. Meiko never used profanity, not even when she was mad, and yet... He sighed. "I get that you're mad, but, please, just..." Just leave me alone.
"I'm livid, Syusuke." But the voice was gentle this time. He heard the rustle of fabric before he was once again eye to eye with Meiko. Her eyes were hopeful, and so was her face, and she looked every bit the mother he had always needed. She reached out to touch his face. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?"
He felt like he did when he was with his mother, his beautiful mother, always kind and caring and loving, with her warm, brown eyes that seemed to see and know everything. There was a sobbing note to his voice when he finally said, "I'm in love." And even he, himself can hear the desperation.
He felt Meiko suck in a sharp breath.
Oh, that's right, he'd forgotten. She loved him.
Great. Just what he needed. He'd gone and destroyed another important person in his life. It seemed to be all he was capable of these days, destroying and hurting people. Tezuka Syusuke, the destroyer.
It sounded oddly fitting.
He glanced away, staring despondently at nothing again. I have nothing left to live for. Nothing at all. Somehow, feeling all empty inside only made his body seem heavier.
"You're... in love," he heard Meiko repeat slowly. Her voice was soft and without emotion. "I see."
There were tears again. How the hell can he still have tears? He'd cried himself silly the entire night last night, he wasn't supposed to have tears anymore. "I'm sorry." It was the only thing he could give her right now.
"Don't be," she answered, moving closer, leaning her head against his chest. He moved his arms so that they encircled her, trying to convey to her just how sorry he was. He could feel her tears soaking his uniform.
"I wish I loved you, Meiko," he told her dejectedly. It would have been so much simpler if he did, and everyone would have been so happy. But he didn't. Instead, he loved someone he could never hope to have.
"Me, too." Meiko laughed through her tears, and Syusuke tightened his hold. "But you don't and it's okay. Love is weird like that," Meiko whispered, pressing closer.
"It hurts, too," Syusuke said, letting the tears fall. There was nothing he could do about them, anyway. "I didn't think loving someone could be this painful."
"Me, neither," Meiko replied. "It's most painful when it's like this." Meiko looked up from where she had buried her head to his chest, catching his eye. "Ne, Syusuke, who do you love?"
Syusuke looked away, turning his head to the sky, feeling the unfairness of it all. "Someone I could never have."
./.
The last Fuji.
Persona didn't know if he wanted to laugh because of the cheesiness of it all or if he wanted to just let it go and be proud of his acquisition.
He had the Fuji heir in his hands.
He didn't think it was possible, considering all the Academy knew about the massacre, all of the Fuji family had been wiped out. He didn't think he'd ever find another great death-related alice after the Clan of Death had been wiped out, and yet, suddenly, he finds that who would have been the next Fuji head had survived, and for one reason or another, was carrying the surname Tezuka.
He didn't feel like wanting to know how, he already suspected he knew, and he wanted to laugh hysterically at the great stroke of luck that has been bestowed upon him.
All three heirs of the Academy's most powerful clans!
The Tezuka heir, the Yukimura heir and most importantly, the Fuji heir (and he didn't even know it).
He felt oddly satisfied. All powerful, all Dangerous Types, all his puppets.
He didn't know what he'd done right in his past life to deserve something as great as this but he'd do it all again in a heartbeat.
Because if Tezuka Syusuke was truly the Fuji heir, his hold on Death was true, and he was truly powerful in Death. A truly powerful omnipotent presence in Death. A truly powerful omnipotent presence in Death that could undo death as easily as bringing it upon others. A truly powerful omnipotent presence in Death that could undo death as easily as bringing it upon others as his puppet.
Everything would become playthings in Persona's hand.
Everything. The Academy, the country, the continent, maybe even the entire fucking world.
He found himself laughing in glee and derision.
This is probably one of the most amusing, most annoying times of his life.
Sure he had the Fuji heir now, but that was only because he'd been lucky enough to have seen the kid demonstrate his alice in front of him. Had he been somewhere else that time, had he not been spying on Chitose Senri, had he not been annoyed, he'd never have seen what the kid can do.
He'd been fooled by the face, the surname and the brother.
He'd been played for a fool. And he played along stupid, too. So stupidly that he'd almost passed over this chance, almost squandered what was probably the strongest, most powerful alice the Fuji clan could come up with.
He clenched his hands into fists. Belatedly, he noticed the wooden table below them starting to blacken, on their way to becoming dry and powdery, the glass covering it already spiderwebbed with cracks.
Calm down, he told himself. Because he had been there, he had been spying on Chitose Senri and he had been annoyed, so he had seen what the kid can do. And now, he was under Persona's jurisdiction, Persona hadn't passed over anything, he hadn't squandered anything, he almost did, but he didn't.
But he'd still have to teach Tezuka Kunimitsu a lesson.
That's right. Calm.
Later, he would deal with Tezuka Kunimitsu later. For now, he had to focus on his job with the immortal woman his puppets have captured for him.
It had been only a few moments before when the kid Chitose had sent him a transcript of his little interview with the woman, it had been what had confirmed his suspicion of Fuji Syusuke's identity in the first place.
He looked again, this time, really reading it.
...
Fuck.
Fuck.
The immortal bitch was working for Ashikaga?
Fuck. He should have realized, she was immortal, after all. He should have realized sooner, when the massacres happened, it was something Ashikaga had been likely to do, after... well, after the disaster he'd made many, many years ago. There had been fucking rumors, but he hadn't believed them because he was damn busy and fuck, he'd been there when they'd sealed him in Death. But if he had other immortals like this bitch working for him, if they had been working for him even before... Getting out of Death would have been easy.
Fuck. Of course he'd kill off the Fuji family. They were the only ones who were able to stand a chance of stopping him the last time, they were the ones who stopped him the last time. He should have realized... And now, all the Fujis save one were dead, along with all the Yukimuras and all the Tezukas, and Ashikaga was doing what he had intended to do back then. He was doing it again, with the proper research, with a great amount of time, and with almost no one who could stop him.
He was more than likely to have already made contact with Morto.
Fuck.
An army of the dead. What was that that the Fuji kid told him about undoing death for those who have passed the First Gate again?
"...When it passed through the First Gate... the spirit's connection with the body had already been... terminated. If I bring it back, the body... would just be a mere... vessel. Whatever happens to it physically wouldn't matter much."
Fuck. How could he have had overlooked this?
He felt a headache coming. How could he have been so stupid? Damn it.
The Fuji kid. He needed the Fuji kid.
Now.
./.
The Seventh Gate, at last.
It wasn't particularly grand, it wasn't particularly special, it wasn't particularly anything and he wouldn't have given it a second glance if it didn't hold something he particularly wanted.
There, just by its opening, barely visible but emitting such a strong power. The bindings that were laid down by who was probably the first Fuji.
He got closer to his goal, the silver markings glinting in the water. He couldn't understand half of these markings, he hadn't studied death as extensively as he would've liked, that was Murakami's job, but he knew enough about it. He knew enough about how to destroy it.
As if sensing his presence and his objective, the markings started glowing, white silver, obscuring the black tendrils that was what was left of Morto's presence. They emitted warmth, and they were hot, in contrast to the coldness of the river waters. He couldn't have imagined it to be this big. It encompassed almost the entire right side of the Seventh Gate's opening, all silver markings outshining the black tendrils. The size of the binding circle was enough to tell him just how powerful Morto truly was.
Morto, the only Greater Dead creature none of the Fujis were able to pass on to true death. Morto, the only Greater Dead creature that was merely bound, and only by the Seventh Gate.
A powerful creature, to be sure. And a creature about to come under his power.
He could sense what was taking place in life to help him fulfill it. He guessed this was what Murakami meant by something being wrong the last time.
He closed his lids and saw that fool mortal they'd 'recruited'. The mortal they'd found, the mortal who thought he was scamming them, the mortal who thought he could play them for fools.
He couldn't hold back a chuckle.
Mortals were so weak. They believed anything, it was laughable. This particular mortal, for example, fancied himself to be knowledgeable in the occult. Knowledgeable, indeed. There weren't such things as vampires or werewolves, it was a stupid belief. And the 'magic' the stupid mortal claimed to be capable of was only from slights of hand and clever devices. But stroke the guy's ego a little and sympathize with his little false beliefs, and he will do just about anything for you.
He found that those who thought themselves knowledgeable of things normal humans don't want to know about were more foolish and stupid than normal humans themselves.
He focused back on the scene he could see unfolding in life at the back of his eyelids.
There were markings on the floor, especially designed, he knew, so that they countered and overpowered the markings that bound Morto in Death. They were drawn by the foolish human himself, though their forms and shapes were introduced to his subconscious by Murakami. They needed for the human to draw it himself.
Now, he was... Was he dancing?
He was (what the fuck?).
He was dancing around the circle yelling almost unintelligible words, but he recognized most of them enough to know that Hinako had probably wheedled Murakami to making the human believe that singing an obscene Norwegian song while dancing something that looked like a Mexican folk dance around the circle was part of the ritual. (He did not think for one second that the human understood what he was saying anymore than he didn't realize that this wasn't some ritual chanting he needed to say to be able to summon the dead)
Hinako was probably laughing her ass off right now, watching the human yell the Norwegian equivalent of 'like a virgin, touched for the very first time!' while dancing a dance whose title literally meant 'The Little Cockroach' around his circle. Damn it. He was going to kill Hinako, damn everything Chizuru and Murakami would have to say about it. He'd probably kill Murakami, too, for letting Hinako wheedle him into botching his ritual like this, they were probably both laughing their asses off, while he was freezing his in Death.
He was glad the human would get killed at the end of this ritual because really, if that human's death would be up to him, it would be really, really, slow and really, really painful because, damn it, he was ruining the seriousness and the importance of this ritual screaming about having sex 'like a virgin, touched for the very first time!' five keys off (barely pronouncing the Norwegian words properly) and flapping around, dancing 'The Little Cockroach'.
The stupid human didn't even have the decency to at least botch the ceremony properly, no, he had to be off-key in his singing and had to look like a chicken while dancing 'The Little Cockroach'.
... Fuck control.
He was going to kill Hinako very, very painfully, and he'd record every single scream and watch over and over and she screamed for days before she'd die, wake up and scream again because if she wated to botch the ceremony, she couldn't have done a better job.
Finally, finally, the human was stopping, catching his breath, and picking up the damn knife, which he should have done, many, many minutes ago, instead of singing and dancing like the total idiot he was.
A drop of blood at the center of the circle.
The markings in life flared to life, bright sliver light engulfing the entire room. In Death, the markings, too, flared to bright light, getting brighter and brighter and brighter, spreading out through all of the other Gates, throughout the entire expanse of the river, before dimming and going out entirely.
At last.
Morto.
There wasn't much of the creature visible in Death now, not yet, and he closed his eyes to see what was happening in life.
Only black smoke was visible of Morto's body in the brightness of the markings of the circle, but it seemed to have been enough for the human. He was grinning madly, his eyes lighted up by an almost-feverish madness.
"... you should obey me," the fool was saying, as if something as powerful as this creature would yield to a weak idiot like him.
There was a rough sound from the circle, it reverberated in Death, louder than anything he had ever heard. A gruff laugh. He could feel the amusement rolling in Death, coming from that creature. Of course Morto would be amused. He was amused, too, watching the human make a fool of himself.
"Foolish human," a coarse, almost crude voice said, echoing his thoughts. "I serve you?"
There was the laugh again, and he couldn't help but join in, it was just so damn funny.
The tendrils surged up, making their way out of the circle, engulfing the room with the human entirely, until it was all black. He laughed again, watching as the human screamed and cowered and terror, yelling about how he was the master of that circle, how he was the master of Morto now, when in fact, he wasn't. The human was just the sacrifice. Something he or Murakami or Hinako or Chizuru had neglected to tell him the day they asked for his services and pretended to be awed by his knowledge (or his stupidity, to be more fitting) and his power (or lack thereof).
The opened his eyes in Death, and waited patiently for the human's screams to stop.
He was in a very, very good mood.
All around him, in Death, formless masses were rising up out of the waters in movements that left much for wanting, they were all clumsy things, but they'd do very nicely, they'd do their job well, and they don't die.
His Army. His Army was coming together, and they were all utterly obedient to him.
All that's left was...
The circle that held Morto flared once again, and shattered. The tendrils now flowed out into the river, hot against the cold currents, so hot that steam rose up to disappear to the darkening sky. Slowly, though in movements more graceful than the others, the form rose up, towering over him by many, many feet.
He grinned up at the creature.
Morto was formless, just like many of those who had been stuck in Death for far too long. The creature was a big hulking mass of black and shadows, and black tendrils that were now drifting lazily in Death's waters. His eyes were bottomless pits of fiery red and were the only features that could be seen in his entire form.
Morto laughed again, and it was echoed by all those forms rising up from Death's waters.
The form drifted lazily down so that it was now at the same level as him. "You allowed that fool to summon me, and yet, did not tell him what I would have done?"
He smiled steadily back, still celebrating his success (despite the little speed bump of the idiot's singing and dancing). "He does not matter to me."
Another laugh, this time, louder than ever. "You used him." There was a brief pause and then, "I like the way you think."
"I'm glad the inner workings of my mind is to your liking," he replied serenely.
Laugh again. "You are amusing, for a human."
"Ah, but you see," he said carelessly. "I'm not a human."
Black tendrils drifted closer to him, warmth and steam before they backed away. "Indeed." The tendrils drifted closer again and he watched them carelessly, waiting for Morto to continue. "You are not of my old enemies, either, and yet you walk in Death."
"You mean I am not a Fuji." He grinned malevolently. "Of course not. Besides, I have killed them all. Only I walk in Death now."
"So I see."
"I am also the master of the circle, and I awakened you," he proclaimed, loud enough for all the creatures in Death to hear. "I am your master."
"It would be a pleasure to serve you," the creature said, bending his formless mass in a mockery of a bow. "We think alike, after all, Lord."
There was a questioning air at the end of the sentence. He smiled patronizingly. "I am called Ashikaga."
There was a great laugh before Morto once again rose to his full height, proclaiming loudly, "We are in the service of Lord Ashikaga!"
He was answered by the shouts and shrieks of the many creatures of Death.
His Army. His Army of the Dead. He let out a victorious laugh.
"Your orders, My Lord?" Morto questioned, from where it was, towering above him.
"Let us move to the Academy."
Clary: I am very unhappy with this chapter. This is the suckiest chapter I've ever made, it sucks so bad, it sucks. (throws herself to the floor and starts to cry)
Lia: It might have something to do with the fact that Issa is nearing the end of the story (usually the time when she gets fed up writing her current story and start a new one). It's this sort of disease-slash-addiction she has, she'd never been able to finish even one story before and now she's going into withdrawals.
Clary: I have writer's block~ Noooooooooooooo~ (bawls)
Lia: But since I won't let her write another story until she finishes this one... Well, this happened. (Issa, I think it's FINE, okay?)
Clary: No it's not! You're just saying that because you're my friend. You're obligated to say that! It's your job!
Lia: No, it's not. My 'job' is to be your 'editor' and I say it's fine.
Clary: That's just it! It's just 'fine', it's not awesome or great or anything. (cries louder) It's just fine.
Lia: As your 'editor', I say it's fine and that's not a problem. A lot of people in this world can't even write a decent sentence, let alone a chapter. So be happy with what you got and stop being such a brat.
Clary: This is not making me feel better, Lia. (sniffles)
Lia: I'm not your friend right now, I'm your 'editor'. I'm not obligated to make you feel better.
Clary: FINE. (sniffs) I hope you all enjoyed it anyway (even if it was one of the worst things I have ever written. I totally blame it on the fact that I had to write about awakening a Greater Dead creature thingy. WHY did I have to write about a Greater Dead creature thingy?). I promise it'll get better. So please give me inspiration and review~