Chapter Seventeen — Nor Fragile Hearts To Feel

'…fickle as the wind, as transparent as water, hearts of glass are so fragile and easy to break, so that the shards are fine enough to pass through the eye of a needle…'

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When Risa woke up she found herself not on the darkened beach, not in the massacred museum and not in her own room.

She was in a different bedroom, one small and cozy, where the walls were bare of any adornment. It was dark save for the single, flickering flame of a candle on a bedside table near her head. She blinked and looked towards the window, where the drapes had been thrown open and no moonlight shone through.

No moonlight…

She breathed in and shifted a little in the soft bed, surprised by how terribly cold and itchy she was. Moving slowly and quietly, she rose to a sitting position and let the thin blanket fall from her shoulders, exposing to her a shadowed, half-naked body covered in bristling sand.

"Risa…"

She screamed and whirled about, pressing herself against the nearby wall, her knees hunched close to her chest. Her movement had caused the feeble flame to dance dangerously on its wick, sending the shadows to sway around the room and moving Satoshi's face in and out of the light.

He was sitting along the far wall on the carpet, his long legs drawn up and his elbows resting on his knees. He still wore the white shirt and uniform trousers from the museum and his glowing, blue eyes were fully visible through the absence of his glasses.

He had said her name quietly and kindly, an attempt at trying to not frighten her that had produced the exact opposite result. Risa squinted at him through the dark, the blanket clutched around her.

"Sa-Satoshi?"

Before he could even reply she had leapt off the bed and knelt in front of him, her hands reaching out and finding his face. He pulled in a quick breath, surprised by how cold her fingers were.

"Satoshi, are you okay? Are you still hurt? The last thing I remember was you lying on the beach, and you were in pain--,"

"I'm not in pain anymore," he said quietly, his eyes straying upward toward the ceiling. He reached out a hand for the blanket she had unknowingly flung to the floor and draped it around her shoulders, closing it beneath her chin. Risa looked down, gasped and withdrew her frozen fingers from his face, clutching the fabric closed, her cheeks flushing.

"Oh, uh…"

"You collapsed on the beach," Satoshi went on, sparing her the embarrassment of responding to him. "I tried bringing you to your house but there was no one there, and the doors were locked. So I brought you back to my apartment."

She looked up and around his simple room. "This is your apartment?"

"Yes."

"Why is there a candle lit?"

"The power's gone out through half of the city."

"Oh." She looked intently into his face. "Satoshi, is it because of that--,"

"You can take a shower here," he interrupted, grasping her shoulders gently and raising both of them to their feet. "And I've laid out some warm clothes for you to wear. You'll get sick if you walk around like that."

Risa couldn't help but smile sheepishly. "How modest am I, right? An awkward girl in a boy's apartment in nothing but her underwear."

"Risa." She dropped her smile in light of his quiet sobriety. "Quickly. Before you get sick."

She stared at him for a long time, the silence stretching between them like a taut chord, just waiting to snap. He didn't move and neither did she, and around them the shadows continued to dance.

"I'll be quick," she replied quietly, finally breaking their shared gaze. He nodded and let her leave the room.

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Satoshi paced about his living room, dressed in a clean shirt and trousers, his shadow flickering on three different walls from the fickle light of five candles splayed about the area. The power outage had been just another nuisance to deal with, and one that had tied in so horrifically well with everything else. When he had deposited Risa in his room and went into the basement of the building to check on the fuse box, he had found the entire underground level in ruins, the fuse box nothing more than rusted metal and frayed, decaying wire.

No doubt the work of the Mystic's Dream.

The Mystic's Dream.

That godforsaken artwork. He was only too glad that it had been imprisoned once more, more proud of Risa Harada than she'd ever know. If it weren't for her the possessed artwork would have certainly found them and resumed its hideous, mind-twisting torture. Whatever the Mystic wanted of him was beyond his understanding, and Dark had taken the journal that would have certainly explained a lot. But he couldn't think of that now. As long as Silence remained in the safe in his bedroom he would be spared any more visits from the haunting siren.

From down the hall he heard the shower shut off. Satoshi blew out a breath and forced himself to sit down, knowing that pacing was only making him more anxious. He was glad the water hadn't turned off, although it must have been strange for her to be standing in the dark.

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair and sighed. After his little basement discovery he had trudged back upstairs and went to his room to where the unconscious Risa lay. He had healed her as best he could, once again drawing on Krad's power. It had amazed him how the monster was keeping to his word, letting Satoshi do what he must without so much as a blink in his direction. But it did little to ease his mind, for he knew that the parasite was probably planning on something morbidly terrifying for the future.

In the distance he could hear a siren wailing through the streets, the officers still attempting to find Dark or maybe even Krad; futile efforts. Satoshi fleetingly wondered why Saehara hadn't called him for instructions, but then he remembered that he had lost his phone sometime during the night. Unconsciously he glanced towards the landline even though he knew it couldn't ring with the power outage; nothing within five blocks was working because of the power outage. Maybe he was just searching for a distraction.

Against his will he thought of how she had looked in his bedroom, worry trained on her face as she inspected him, her half-clad frame far too close for comfort. But what should have been a most uncomfortable situation had been nuked out by the events of the night, the prospect of having almost died multiple times banishing any indecent thoughts Satoshi might have had. Not to mention that he was a purebred gentlemen.

Nevertheless, it would be much easier on him when she was properly dressed.

But then he heard the bathroom door open, followed by footsteps and the growing light approached the living room as she carried the candle he had given her. Glancing cautiously out the window—purely out of a paranoia bred from insomnia—Satoshi pulled in a deep breath and looked up as Risa entered the room.

He nearly blanched.

He never knew a girl could look so damn attractive in men's clothing.

Everything was far too long on her, betraying how petite she was in comparison to his height and stature. The grey sleeves passed over her knuckles and his trousers puddled around her feet. Her hair was wet and hung around her shoulders, darkening the fabric, and her face was flushed from the heat of the bathroom.

Satoshi swallowed a lump that had been forming in his throat and looked away.

Despite Krad's promise, Satoshi feared he wouldn't even last the bloody night.

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They stared at each other for long time, brown eyes on blue, from across the room. Risa tugged absently on her shirt, the cotton soft against her freshly scrubbed skin. But although she was now sand free and had dressed all her small cuts and scrapes with the First Aid kit that Satoshi had given her, Risa's mind was still a massive mess of mucked thoughts and ideas. She bore her gaze into his, beseeching him for the truth, wanting nothing but for him to talk and to tell her everything--…

"Good, you're dressed," he finally said, although his usually smooth baritone was somewhat ragged. "Come, we'll have to walk a ways to find a pay phone that works, and then I can call you a ride that will take you home, or wherever--,"

"What?" She had run across the room to him and he had gotten to his feet, taking a surprised step back. "What are you talking about?"

"The power's out and my phone--,"

"I don't care about the stupid phone!" She grabbed onto his sleeve, much like a child in a tantrum. "Satoshi, I don't want to go home! I won't go home until you tell me what happened. You promised me at the museum, or did you forget?"

She watched as he closed his eyes in what she thought was annoyance as he carefully took hold of her wrist and forced her hand away from his arm. "I remember," he said curtly. "But you must realize that the circumstances have changed."

"No, they haven't! I asked you to tell me the truth when I'd ask for it, and you gave me your word that you would."

He opened his eyes and locked her gaze with his own. "It is late, and you need rest--,"

"Oh, bullshit!" she cried, surprising him as well as herself. "I'm perfectly fine and so are you. You're just trying to run away again!"

"No," he replied vaguely. "I am not. You wouldn't understand the situation."

She grabbed his arm again in earnest. "I could if you'd tell me," she said, losing the strength in her voice in light of his closed off manner. She couldn't believe that he was pushing her away again, after all they had been through during the night. "Don't think you can glaze all this over as just a dream, because I know it wasn't. This was all real."

"Precisely. And because it was real you must know that it is also really dangerous. You cannot be involved--,"

"You're involved," she quipped. He couldn't help grit his teeth, fighting his frustrations.

"It's my problem, Harada-san, not yours."

"And there you go again with the honorifics," she shouted, throwing up her hands. "A moment ago it was 'Risa' and now it's 'Harada-san'? You're going to make me go insane if you don't stop swaying back and forth all the time!"

"That's the problem, Harada-san: you will go insane because I can't stop swaying. This is how all my nights are, and if I let you get involved then you'll surely lose your mind…like me," he added absently, passing his hand over his eyes. He hadn't yelled, but the force in his tone was just as potent as yelling.

"Aren't I already involved?" she asked. "Or was diving head first into the freezing ocean to get a horn just a pass time for me?"

"You didn't have to get it," he replied. "I didn't want you to. I was going to--,"

"Oh, yes. You, who were in perfect condition, were going to swim out to sea. Yes, that makes perfect sense." She backed away a few steps and sat along the arm of the sofa. "What is it, Satoshi? What, is there some sort of test I still need to pass to prove that I can 'handle the truth'?"

Satoshi looked up and frowned, not amused. "No."

"Then what else can I do that will force you to tell me what is going on?" She watched as he stared at her for a long time. That stare, that analytical stare. She didn't like it, to be truthful, but it was who Satoshi was, suspicious of everything.

"Why do you care so much?" he suddenly asked, surprising her by the underscoring of anger in his voice. It was the same growl he had used back at the museum. "Why do you care about the things that have to do with me?"

She started to open her mouth, thought a moment, and then closed it again. She waited, then started once more. "You're still asking that after all this time." It wasn't a question but an observation. The responding flicker of daring in his eyes told her that she was right. "I said it before, Satoshi: I am your friend and I care about you, not just the things that have to do with you." She wanted him to understand that she wasn't there because she had ended up there, but had chosen to be there. Not just because she had a crush on him, but because she truly did worry; she didn't want it to be a confession of love but a confession of worry.

He needed someone to worry about him.

"Satoshi." She got up from the couch and walked over to him. This time she was rewarded with him keeping his stand, allowing her to approach his side. "You need to tell me. Back at the beach you kept muttering about trying to save me--,"

"That's exactly my point," he hissed. "I'm trying to save you, and in order for me to do that I need you to get as far away from me as possible."

But Risa did not budge. "What I was going to say was that, if you truly wanted to save me, then helping me to be aware of everything is the best way."

He turned and looked down at her, half of his face in shadow, the other half illuminated in pale golden light, succeeding in making him look very weary and ghostly. "Why are you so accepting of all this? Shouldn't you be frightened and afraid? Or disbelieving? Or something?"

"Should I, really? Someone like me, who reads Tarot cards and interprets dreams?" Her eyes strayed to a minute cut beneath his left eye and she absently reached up to touch it.

"Risa, don't!" He had cried at her touch, stepping free from her, gasping as if he'd been burned. He stared at her incredulously, his face contorting in confused outrage, although the effect succeeded in only making him look more commanding and, if possible, more handsome. "You say things just to say them and it doesn't make sense! You don't care about me, how could you? After everything I've done tonight? After everything you've seen? After you witnessed me turn into—into--,"

He couldn't go on, shaking his head in shame and gritting his teeth, suppressing his anger as best he could. The flames of the candles had been thrown into a frenzy at his tirade, but now they were settling as the master of the house calmed himself. At first Risa stared at him in disbelief, wondering what had coaxed him to suddenly explode in such a un-Satoshi like manner. But then she realized…in the way he had said everything so desperately…in the way he had been hesitant to name the monster that he had transformed into…

"Oh, Satoshi," she breathed, rubbing her forehead and smiling weakly. "You think…." They both sighed and looked up at one another. Risa couldn't help but look very, very sad. "You think I'd be afraid of you?" she asked. "Or…or detest you? Or hate you?"

"Why not?" he replied lowly. He wasn't even going to try and deny it. "You saw for yourself what a selfish, hideous thing I became."

"No, I don't," she snapped. "I don't because you didn't. Whatever it was that you transformed into—this Krad—it was painful, and I could tell. But he saved me back there; you saved me back there. How could I think my savior was hideous?"

"You've got it wrong," he grumbled, staggering backward and hitting the wall, only to slide down and onto the floor. "You're choosing to remember things that you wanted to be there. You're being too nice."

She frowned at him. "Too nice? That doesn't even make sense."

"I know it doesn't," he moaned, hanging his head. "That's why I'm getting a headache." He ran both hands through his hair and rubbed his neck, all the while staring at the floor. Risa, steeling herself as well, walked over to him and stood before him, staring down at his slumped form. She could have laughed. She didn't even know what they were fighting about.

"You don't make any sense," he said, his voice muffled as he spoke to the floor. "I never understood why you insisted on being my friend. I never understood."

"You didn't?" Maybe he wasn't as clever as everyone thought him to be, if he didn't know that she had fallen head over heels for him.

"No."

"Well, that's your fault then, because I think I've made it perfectly clear."

He looked up as she knelt down in front of him, his mouth curved into a frown at her brevity. She sat down on the floor between his knees, leaning forward attentively, looking like such a small child in her huge garments.

"There is a thing called sympathy, Hiwatari, and another called pity. I have neither for you. There is also envy, which I also don't have. And then there is the plain truth of being fake, which I am not." She tilted her head to the side. "That day in the orchard, when I bumped into you…do you remember? You talked about being alone so naturally, as if you preferred it. But I can tell that's not true."

"Can you now?"

"Yes. Solitude can be a good thing; I learned that from watching you. But too much of it leads to loneliness, and that's never a good thing. That's why, even though you say you're always detached, you became friends with Niwa." His silence coaxed her on. "And it's why you let my sister and me walk with you on the beach, or let us talk to you on our way to school."

His eyes seemed distant. "You say it confidently, as if you're certain."

"I am."

"How can you be?"

"Because I--…." I like you,but she couldn't even make herself say it; she was so embarrassed. Even after everything that had happened, she was still such a little schoolgirl. "I've been watching you, and you think you wear a blank mask all the time, but sometimes that falls."

His eyes narrowed at her but not in an angry fashion. "You're a handful," he finally said, being more blunt than what she knew him to be. She laughed lightly and looked down at her hands in her lap.

"Riku says that to me sometimes, too, so I suppose I am." But when she looked back up at him his expression had softened completely, twisting at her heart.

"You'll find your worry may be wasted on me," he muttered. She shrugged.

"Maybe. Or maybe not. Either way, I'm still willing to give it…if you need it. If you need someone to worry when you're gone, or miss you when you've left, or say 'hello' when you come back, then I volunteer." Her eyes glanced around the empty, darkened living room, betraying to horrific fact that he really was very alone. She brought her eyes back to his and smiled. "And it's because I'm volunteering that doesn't make it a waste."

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She smiled at him and it was nearly his undoing. To think that she could sympathize with him without seeming to pity his situation. She was just accepting of him and that was it. No tears shed for a sad childhood or past, but rather a promise to be there for the future; a promise of stability.

Someone to worry about him, and to miss him, and to be there when he came back…

He hadn't had someone like it…ever…

Satoshi was suddenly acutely aware of her knee near his thigh and her eyes on his face, and he felt the telltale electricity crackle through his nerves. At first he tried to lean back and away from her, but the wall pressed into his shoulder blades. His breathing was becoming rapid. His mind was shutting down.

Did it make him weak?

Yes, it did. But he had never claimed to be strong.

Without even thinking he leaned forward and closed the distance between them, their lips connecting in a kind exchange. It was completely different from the fiery collision back at the museum; the embodiment of everything it hadn't been. This was a kiss between a shy, inexperienced boy and a delicate little girl. This was a kiss of breath and light, so sweet and tender in every aspect; a kiss of undiluted gratitude. It was slow and unhurried, soaking in the moment.

And it wasn't until he felt Risa's hand lay against his chest did he realize what he was doing. He had misinterpreted her touch and felt disgusted with himself for taking advantage of the situation. She was vulnerable, and he had stupidly assumed that her vulnerability meant something.

Satoshi forced himself to push her away, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly, the heat rushing through his veins. He cursed himself inwardly, hating himself for being a scoundrel, a worthless rogue, a horrible vagabond. He shook his head frantically, sputtering.

"I'm sorry, Risa, I shouldn't have--,"

But Risa had swatted his arms away forcibly and reached forward with glassy eyes, twisting her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him towards her once more, her gaze on his mouth. "Damn it, Satoshi," she breathed. "Yes, you should."

This time he felt his stomach practically explode as he half fell onto her, one hand wrapping around her back and the other bracing himself along the floor as she kissed him, her hands tugging him closer than he already was. He couldn't understand it, but damn him if he was going to fight it.

"Risa," he mumbled, pulling away from her only the slightest bit, breathing so hard he was feeling light-headed. He was flushing. Embarrassing as it was, he was blushing horribly. "Risa, I'm not--,"

"You're not shutting up," she gasped, and she tugged again, pulling him back to her taste.

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Sheesh, but she was being forward. Although, to be truthful, she couldn't care less.

Maybe it was the fact that he had saved her life so many times during the night, or that he had cared for her like some modern-day white knight. Maybe it was the need to replay the kiss that had happened at the museum, or maybe her way of saying thank you. Or maybe it was because he had covered her with a blanket when she was in nothing but her under things, or the way he had smiled at her back at school, before he left for the classroom with that other girl. Or maybe it was because she remembered how he had been asleep in the car, or how he had looked in a uniform.

Or maybe it was because he had kissed her just now, igniting a scalding flame inside of her, dizzying her to the brink of foolishness bred from too many moments apart.

Whatever it was, whatever was fueling her, it was potent, and Satoshi himself could only quell it.

He kept up the guise of being reluctant, but she smiled as she felt his arm tighten around her waist. She strengthened her hold on his shirt, although it wasn't really possible for him to get any nearer.

He kissed her back with as much earnest as she was giving him, and it made her giggle against her will. Cool, quiet Satoshi Hiwatari wasn't so cool and quiet after all. She could feel his hand near her lower back, his touch making her shiver even through the barrier of clothing. She could discern every one of his lean fingers; fingers made for painting artwork. One of her hands traveled to his neck and he gripped her closer, tickling her in the side. She suddenly broke their contact and let out a laugh, gasping at the sensation. But she had also shoved forward with her hands and slammed him into the wall, causing him to hiss painfully.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry!" But her apology was tainted by her laugh as she reached forward and cradled his head. He winced and rubbed his skull where it had struck, frowning at her in the dark.

"Ow," he replied blandly. She couldn't help but smile widely. It may not have been an ideal movie moment, but, then again, they weren't in a movie. They were real people, and things weren't perfect for real people.

"I'm so sorry," she cooed again, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You tickled me and I got scared!"

"My fault then," he murmured, keeping his head bowed. She lowered her head and tried to see his face, wondering why he was hiding. But then she noticed the redness of his ears and her smile only widened. He was blushing something horrid.

"Satoshi?" she asked lightly.

"Hmm?" he moaned, rubbing his face with both hands. She fingered the back of his head, her touch mingling with his silken hair.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. He lowered his hands then and, after a moment's hesitation, reached for her wrists and drew them away, holding her right hand to his lips and kissing her palm delicately. It amazed Risa how such a small gesture could render her so bloody helpless.

"Don't be," he replied. He was still for a moment then, holding her hand poised by his face, his eyes distant as he stared at a spot on the floor. Risa blinked at him and waited, unsure of what was going on. Around them the candles suddenly flickered so violently that they threatened to go out.

But then Satoshi had pulled down her sleeve and touched her wrist before pressing her fingers to his face. Risa, shivering at his touch, started to say something but was caught off guard as he leaned forward and claimed her mouth with his once more in a kiss far deeper than any they had previously shared. It traveled all the way through her body and down to her toes, and her eyes fluttered closed in the tingling feeling.

He reached up and cradled her head, pushing her backward. She threw back her hands to brace herself on the floor, her elbows bending only slightly as he pressed in towards her. Soon Satoshi's kisses weren't just on her lips but along her jaw line and on her neck, his hands roving over her shoulders and down to her waist. Her eyes flew open at the foreign sensation and she giggled into his hair, both out of surprise and sensitivity to his touch.

"Satoshi?" she breathed. He was trailing his lips along her throat in a very distracting manner. He moaned into her, his voice vibrating along her skin. Risa let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

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Whatever it was, it certainly was not his idea.

Despite the strange feelings Risa Harada induced into his otherwise isolated nature, he would have never mustered up the gall to…well, to be doing what he was doing at the moment.

He was fully aware of it though, that was for damn certain. He could taste her skin, breath in her aroma and feel her shiver at his touch. It was enough to render him so embarrassed that he'd probably fall unconscious, but he didn't stop. He didn't stop because it wasn't him.

When he had hit his head his eyes had gone suddenly black and he had felt sick, a much more dramatic reaction to an insignificant bump. He had tried rubbing the blackness from his eyes but to no avail. That was when he had seen it, a glimmer of a memory in his mind that he couldn't ever remember having. It was fleeting, like a whisper, but it had definitely been there. He had been looking through the eyes of someone else as they took hold of a woman's hand and kissed the palm.

But then Satoshi realized that he had done the exact same thing to Risa. He had stopped, frozen and confused. Had it been a memory or had it been real?

The milliseconds ticked by and then his vision clouded once more, again showing him a memory that wasn't his.

Someone—someone that wasn't him but was moving through his body—was caressing someone and kissing them, the need to be closer to her near unbearable. Something relevant to a mixture of love and lust swelled in Satoshi's chest and he wanted nothing more then to reach in and tear it out; it hurt so much.

But then he realized that he wasn't just seeing it in his mind but he was doing it again, kissing Risa in the same way. His cheeks flushed and he felt his stomach drop to the floor, but he couldn't stop. He was kissing her throat and she had muttered his name. He tried to reply but his brain was mucked and her scent was intoxicating. He had hoped she would push him away, break the trance he was in and snap him to his senses.

A clouded head and an unknown memory…

He really was losing his mind…

He raised his head and captured her lips once more, fire spurring him on. She gasped prominently this time, suddenly surprised. She pushed him forcibly away and stared at him, her eyes uncertain.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she stammered, breathless. He shrugged, not much caring for words, wanting only to continue.

"I don't know," he muttered. He leaned in again and Risa went momentarily slack against him, but then she seemed to regain her determination and broke the kiss once more, this time pushing him back with both hands. She wasn't angry, just confused.

"This isn't you," she said, frowning. "I don't know what it is."

"It is me," he said, not really understanding what he was saying, but she shook her head.

"I know what kissing you is like," she snapped. "And this isn't you. What's going on?"

"I don't know," he truthfully explained, brow furrowed even as he bent towards her neck again. It wasn't him. He knew it wasn't him. But then, who was it?

"Satoshi, are you okay?" she asked, cupping his face as he branded her neck with his lips. He shook his head against her shoulder.

"No, I don't know. I'm seeing someone else's memory. I'm acting out someone else's memory."

"Not yours?" She tried pushing him delicately back to the wall, but he wrapped his arms around her and took her with him, dragging her onto his lap. He stared up at her, eyes unseeing and yet perfectly focused.

"No, not exactly. Mine…and yet not mine at all." He placed a kiss at the hallow of her throat and she laughed outright, far too ticklish for her own good.

"Are you sure?" she teased. He stared up at her, incredulous.

"Of course I am! I would never--…." But then he trailed off as she stared down at him, grinning knowingly.

"You'd never?"

He tore his eyes away. Fine, maybe he would, but not like this. Not right then.

"Could you help me up?" he asked quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his neck. With a sigh Risa rose up off of him, leaning in momentarily to peck him on the cheek. He let her.

When she handed him up he swayed a little on his feet, his vision blacking out again.

"Wait a minute," he whispered, throwing out a hand to steady himself against the wall. He pressed the heel of his other palm to his forehead. At his side he could feel Risa's hand on his chest, calming him.

"What do you see?"

"I see…white wings." And he could. They were wrapping around him, extending from his back and fluttering in a nonexistent wind. A strand of hair blew in front of his eyes and he saw that it was blonde. He looked at his hand and saw that they weren't his but Krad's.

And then he looked to where Risa stood but he screamed and jumped back because it was no longer Risa standing there but The Mystic's Dream, her hair dancing around her lithe frame in the pale moonlight in the middle of a beautiful garden, her eyes staring up at him, her hand over his heart.

Satoshi blinked and it was gone. Risa's wide eyes asked the question that didn't need asking, and he answered her without thinking to answer.

"It was Krad's memory," he said. "That was Krad's memory of the Mystic."

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Wiz hadn't made it to the Niwa household. He had cowered halfway through the journey and had finally given into his fear and touched down in a park nearly four miles from the house. After he had carefully set down Daisuke and the journal he had transformed back into a tiny rabbit and hid beneath his master's limp arm, too afraid of the Mystic's Dream to even look at it. Moments had passed for a long time before Daisuke suddenly wretched, coughed and opened his eyes weakly.

He stared up at the canopy of black night and stars above him, unseeing. His body throbbed as if he'd been stabbed with thousands of knives, and his head swam with nausea. Inside of him he couldn't even feel Dark.

With a forced effort Daisuke turned his head and saw the glass sculpture lying on its side in the grass, delicate hand reached out directly for him. He stared at the miniature face and realized that the Mystic's expression was one of deepest and desperate sorrow.

"Wiz."

The tiny rabbit poked its head out and hopped onto Dai's chest, staring down at him, his floppy ears perked. Dai took a few breaths before he tried speaking again.

"I need…to go…"

"Kyuu." He had tilted his head to the side inquisitively. Dai gasped out his last words.

"To Hiwatari's." He stared at his small companion. "Please Wiz…bring all three…to Hiwatari. You remember where…"

With a furtive glance back towards the Mystic, Wiz leapt into the air and transformed into black wings once more, lifting his master, the journal and the artwork into the sky again. He was terrified of the Mystic's Dream, that was clear, but Daisuke had asked him, and so he had obeyed.