Chapter Eighteen — The Wind, The Rain, The Fire, The Sea
"You can be generic and say 'the wind howls, the rain pours, the fire burns and the sea drowns'. Or you can be wonderful and say 'the wind is calming to the flustered, the beauty of the rain is how it falls, fire is a tantalizing mistress, and nothing is more predictably unpredictable as the sea'." - J.B.
Satoshi didn't quite stagger, because someone of his level of dignity never really staggered, but he did take an awkward step back and touched the wall for balance, grateful, if embarrassingly, that Risa was next to him to hold his arm.
"What was Krad's memory?" he mused out loud, feeling extremely dizzy and very, very, very confused. "I need to sit down."
Immediately Risa guided him to the sofa and sat him down; if she were extremely worried she kept it hidden, refusing to utter even the tiniest sound. She seemed completely intuitive to him, though, her demeanor anxious of his every movement. He slumped back and let his head hang, the frown he was wearing etched tightly between his eyes.
Krad involved with the Mystic's Dream? Romantically?What in the world did that mean?
"It doesn't make sense," he whispered to himself. He felt the cushions near him sink and Risa's face loomed into his vision.
"What doesn't make sense? What happened?"
But he didn't answer her. He didn't mean to ignore the worry in her voice, but his mind was racing through possibilities, analyzing through his own mental database, passing over any information that he had gathered that might help him understand.
The Mystic came before the Black Wings; the Hikari clan was nearly completely wiped out after the fatal accident, and the heritage was lost. All previous artworks were scattered across the globe; for all he knew neither Krad nor Dark had any immediate contact with their fellow artworks.
But that was just it, 'for all he knew' couldn't be much if this sort of bombshell decided to drop itself. But how could Krad and the Mystic have a history?!
"Satoshi."
"What?" He snapped out of his inner thoughts and blinked at her. She was tugging at his hand, his fingers having unconsciously curled into fists, his knuckles turning stark white with the effort, his veins showing the strain. He breathed in deeply and relaxed his hand. "I didn't even notice."
"I could tell." She glanced behind him towards the kitchen area. "Do you mind?" she asked, nodding her head towards it. He glanced back and nodded in turn.
"No, go ahead."
She rose to her feet and slipped passed him, her fingers trailing absently through his hair, delicately skimming the area he had hit against the wall. Satoshi held his breath and closed his eyes, cursing his rampaging heartbeat. She had kissed him and he had kissed her, and still something as insignificant as her fingertips made him jumpy.
A small part of him wished this night had never happened; he already had to deal with Krad, now the Mystic's Dream. And, on top of it all, he had to come to terms with the likes of Risa Harada? He wasn't sure he had the capacity to take it all in, let alone face it all down.
Because—and this was a complication he was adamant to avoid for as long as possible—what would happen beyond tonight, at school the next day, when they were forced into the same classroom together, into the same school activities, with Krad ready to pounce on any opportunity to create havoc? This was the trial by fire he had always wanted to avoid, and here he was, pushing himself deeper and deeper into the blackened pit.
Sometimes he felt like a complete idiot.
"Good thing the gas hasn't been affected," she said from the kitchen. He heard the telltale click of his stove and then the whirring as the flame came on. But Satoshi kept his eyes forward. If he looked at her he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the matter at hand.
"Krad, the Mystic, Krad, the Mystic," he repeated lowly, rubbing his neck in exasperation. He didn't suspect there was a huge piece of the puzzle missing, but he had no doubt that it was significant, whatever it was. He just had to put the pieces together properly. Damn him, why wasn't he able to do this anymore?! "One moment," he said politely to Risa. He could feel her eyes on him as he got to his feet and strode for the hallway, towards his office. Before he left the room he glanced in her direction. She was standing before the stove, about to set a kettle on the flame. She looked even more worried. "I'll be back," he added in assurance and, because he couldn't help it, he offered her a small yet genuine smile.
She smiled back.
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Risa set the kettle on the stove and stepped away. More than anything she wanted to follow him and find out what he was doing, but there was something stronger that she felt for Satoshi that trumped her attraction to curiosity: she respected him too much, and so she stayed in the kitchen.
She distractedly ambled towards the window, tugging back the curtain to look outside. It was very dark on the street down below, the shadows only slightly alleviated by the streetlamps in the distance and the flickering candles in the room where she stood. She could see her reflection in the glass, see the telltale signs of no sleep and stress in her face. Risa looked at her neck and then tugged down her collar to see her collarbone; everything was too pronounced. She realized she hadn't eaten right in at least a few days, and that worried her. She made a mental note to convince Riku to cook her something delicious the next day.
She touched her finger to her throat and then paused, staring at it in the glass. The aging pain she had felt in the museum had felt so absolute, but she couldn't even detect a trace of it now.
More magic, she figured. But good magic, this time.
Her own hand slipped down to her chest and she tried pressing her palm into her sternum. The Mystic had been able to do it to Satoshi. Her hand had been inside his chest, right over his heart, and she had been singing to him…singing the most beautiful song. It had been strange, like watching a movie. Things like that didn't happen in real life; glowing, floating girls didn't attack white-winged angels, and phantom thieves didn't fly against living artwork.
Fleetingly Risa thought of earlier that day, when she had wondered so deeply about Satoshi's life. Who would have thought, that of all things, he would be in a whirlwind as glittering as this? Of all the thousands of different scenarios one could have come up with, this was by far the most amazingly far-fetched. And it made Risa smile.
How amazing. How utterly amazing. And why would he think she would be afraid? Anyone with an imagination could clearly see that there was more awe than fear in everything.
Something flickered against the skyline and Risa pulled her attention from her thoughts and squinted into the glass. She pressed her face closer, cupping her hands over her eyes. There was definitely something out there; it was still extremely far away, but whatever it was, it was unstable, flopping across the sky uncontrollably. She watched it tentatively, wondering what it was and flinching slightly as it seemed to rapidly descend and collide onto the roof of a building. She hoped that, whatever it was, it was all right.
She would have stared at it for longer if she hadn't heard the rustle of papers and the sound of footfalls as Satoshi reentered the room. She turned to see him stride in, a hefty pile of file folders in one arm as he scrutinized a few leaflets in his other. He went straight for the kitchen counter, laying his folders down neatly as he frowned down at the paper, squinting in the dim light. Risa noted that he seemed too tall for the counter, his lanky torso towering over the stone surface. She also noted that he looked almost too mature with all those manila folders laid before him.
In her mind she said his name, but he surprised her by looking up as if in reply. She smiled at him from the window, lowering her hand away from her chest.
"Something wrong?" he asked evenly, his eyes flicking momentarily to the window and then back onto her. She shook her head.
"No, I was just staring. Really." She moved back into the kitchen to emphasize her point. She didn't want him to worry needlessly. "Find anything?" she asked, trying for lightness. She nodded to his files as she moved closer while still remaining on the other side of the counter. She didn't trust herself to be too close to him, and instead of finding embarrassment in it she found an affectionate humor.
He met her question with an honest sigh, glancing down at his files with a sort of nonchalant disappointment. "No," he said. "Nothing new, at least." He picked up a folder and then placed it back on the counter without even really looking at it. "Nothing helpful." Risa leaned against the stone, staring up at him.
"Why is she after you?" she asked bluntly. He met her gaze and she found no coldness there.
"I don't know," he answered. "I have theories, but I always have theories, and they're often wrong. But that's only one of a thousand questions that still need to be answered." He ran a stiff hand through his hair and bowed his head, trying to hide the anxiety he felt.
"Questions are frustrating," Risa agreed, but then caught herself in an un-intentioned accusation. "I didn't mean it to sound like that. I just meant in general…not that I was saying my questions were…frustrating. To say, you know, that you might be…frustrating…." She grimaced at herself as he met her gaze. She sounded like a bumbling moron. So she was immensely grateful when Satoshi only nodded in understanding once, pushing aside his papers and rubbing absently at his tired eyes.
"I wanted to tell you that you're actually right, and I'm wrong," he said. Risa's eyes narrowed, not so much in suspicion as it was anticipation.
"Come again?"
"You're right."
Risa found a darkened triumph in that that she didn't voice. To be right where Satoshi was wrong must have been a great accomplishment. She figured not many people could use such a boast. "Am I?"
"You are." He breathed in deeply. "It would be beyond careless of me not to tell you what exactly is going on," he explained. "You were right, you are involved and, what with what's happened tonight, deeply so. To send you off without any information is reckless and meaningless and the most it would do would be to open you to danger without any means of defense." He shrugged slightly. "That would be irresponsible on my part."
"It would, would it?" She scratched her neck distractedly. "Then why were you hard pressed to have me go away? Why did you insist that I just leave?" She didn't mean it to sound like she were blaming him of anything, but she would be lying to herself to say that it wasn't just a bit confusing to be constantly contradicted. Satoshi's expression didn't really change, but he was somehow able to emanate a profound aura of guilt.
"I'm not used to this sort of situation," was all he said, but somehow it was enough. It truth, his actions had seemed rational. In every story that followed this kind of plotline, it always seemed chivalrous of the hero to force the girl away; to shove her out of harm's way and out of his perception in order to save her, right? But that never really made sense, because what was the use of ignorance? Where was the chivalry in blindfolding the girl and pushing her into the forest?
"I can understand that then, I guess," she replied. The kettle whistled and Risa tore her gaze away from bright, blazing cerulean to answer its call. She flicked off the flame and lifted the kettle from the stove, setting it down on a cork coaster on the counter. As she let go of the handle a hand reached out to grab her own and she looked up at its owner. His arm was long enough to span the counter between them without him so much as leaning slightly forward.
"I can't tell you everything," Satoshi said solemnly, "but I will explain things. I'll tell you the truth, just in so many words."
Risa smiled at that and nodded, placing her other hand on top of his. His words meant a lot, there was no doubt about that, but he probably was completely unaware of how much more meaning his touch seemed to give. Even though they had shared kisses and embraces, Hiwatari was still, above all else, a very self-reserved person. A comforting touch had never seemed to be bred into his nature, and so to have him reach across the vast expanse of that two foot wide countertop to connect his skin to hers was more of a promise of reassurance than Risa could ever ask for. That, more than his words, made her believe completely in his promise.
"Truth is truth. I don't care how many words you use."
Satoshi pulled his hand away and eased into one of the stools at the counter, leaning forward over his papers. He pulled in a breath.
"What you saw tonight is an artwork called The Mystic's Dream," he began simply. "My ancestors were great artists and they made hundreds of works well-known throughout the world. The Mystic's Dream is one of them."
Risa was the epitome of attentiveness, likewise leaning on the opposite side of the tile. "A living artwork, that's what you said at the museum."
"Yes."
"How?"
"Don't you want to know why?"
At that Risa's brow creased a little and she shrugged. "Most artists are like that, right? To make art that is alive, truly alive, is what any artist would love to accomplish. If the rest of them knew about the magic that your ancestors knew about, then this world would be swarming with artworks coming to life, if they aren't already."
Satoshi merely stared at her, something strange yet warm in his gaze. "That's right," he said quietly, and then to answer her question, "Moonlight. In history the moon and everything to do with it holds a number of mystical and spiritual properties for all nations and cultures. My ancestors researched this and found a way to channel that power into The Mystic's Dream."
Channeling power…was that even possible? Apparently.
"What was she supposed to be?" Risa asked quietly, tugging her sleeves over her hands.
"Beauty, to be frank, sculpted from one manifestation of blown glass." He seemed to deviate from his explanation then because he looked down at his hands and said, "that, in itself, is an amazing and unknown talent on their part. Not unlike ancient treasures known to the world, the technology and precision it would take to fire glass while sculpting it is extraordinary. Add to the fact that there are no physical flaws on the artwork or any semblance of hairline fractures, then you have yourself a pristine and priceless object in hand."
She wondered if he was aware how his tone changed when he talked about art, because she noticed that he didn't just talk about it. His hands, so used to standing still when he spoke, moved every now and then to emphasize the details, and his eyes seemed unfocused and far off, betraying that his attention was not in the room but somewhere else. The only other person she had seen talk about art like that was…well, was Daisuke Niwa, actually.
"That commends her purpose of beauty, though," he continued, his hands going slack once more. "That is why she looks the way she looks, sings as she can and dances in everything that she does. Grace, femininity, loveliness, beauty; that is what she is. They wanted to make something devoted to beauty, to capture onlookers completely. I don't think they realized how dangerous their talent was, though." Behind him a votive candle flickered quite rapidly and Satoshi glanced back at it. "It was locked away after a certain time because things started to get out of control, or so goes the handed down history. Those who did lay eyes on it would become obsessed, along with those who became utterly entranced by her song, and that, along with other incidents of trouble that I've been able to glean from her time era, resulted in my clan locking her away from the world."
Risa's fingers touched the soft cotton of her sleeves, rubbing them between her fingers. "You call her a living artwork," she said. "Does that mean she can feel things?" she asked. "Like us, I mean. Can she touch things and feel when it's cold?"
It was obvious these weren't the questions Satoshi was expecting from her, but he answered her all the same.
"Yes, I suppose. She understands pain, as you saw. There were red diagrams in the basement…"
A girl writhing in pain as red lines slashed burning paths across her angelic skin, all tainted with the ring of her agonized screams. "I remember," she breathed.
"It was an emblem created by my clan to subdue her magic. The diagrams weren't complete, that's why she wasn't completely suppressed, but they did their part, and she felt the consequences."
"So she can touch things and know if something is soft or hard?"
He frowned a little. "Yes."
"So, can she feel emotions?"
"I…I don't know. She's certainly aware of them. With artwork it's hard to tell. I guess, in a philosophical view, all artwork is created with emotions already instilled in them, so, were they to come to life, they'd have a semblance of that feeling, or else an acute awareness to what it is and derive conclusions from there, right?"
There was a short pause and then Risa couldn't help but laugh a little. "Your 'college' is showing."
"What?"
She continued to smile, inwardly slapping herself, and her fellow classmates for that matter, for being so stupid. It was blindingly obvious that Satoshi was far more intelligent than your average middle school student. It was blatant in not just his words but in everything he was.
"Beyond the philosophy, then," she said. "In reality, does she feel?"
He tilted his head inquisitively, genuinely curious on his own part. "Why do you ask that?"
She shrugged, grasping at straws. "Because that would make sense then, wouldn't it? She's been locked up all this time, so if she understood loneliness then I guess it would make sense for that to turn into anger. Not saying that what she did was okay," she added, remembering that the beautiful woman had tried to kill her. "I'm just…well, I'm just saying, is all."
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Satoshi wondered if Risa knew that, at that moment, she was probably the most understanding victim of a murderess' motives in all of history. Not to mention that she was giving him a whole different outlook on the situation.
"Did you hear her song?" she asked. Satoshi shook his head and stretched out his back as Risa turned to the kettle again. For some reason she seemed accurately aware of where everything was, because in a few moments she had poured them both steaming mugs of green tea. "Her singing was coming from everywhere."
"No, I tried not to."
She looked up at him, impressed. "Didn't you say anyone who heard her song was entranced? You'd have to be strong to ignore it."
"Yes, well, I guess there had to be exceptions." He shook the intended compliment away. "Nothing special."
Risa looked as if she were going to oppose that outlook, but didn't actually say anything out loud. "Well, those of us who did hear it were actually entranced, I have to admit. I didn't really pay attention at first because it was just so soothing, but then I heard the words she was saying, and then her song was just so sad. She said 'love' a lot."
"She can't love," he said automatically, but he wasn't even sure of that, and the revelation was nearly alarming. "She…she can't." Risa pushed a mug towards him and he took it silently, the warmth stinging his fingers, but he didn't pull them away. His mind was racing. "Love is too complex a concept for any sort of artificially intelligent creation. Not even...not even Krad can comprehend it, let alone understand it enough to even consider feeling it. That's just impossible."
And yet…Krad could show anger and hate and malice, all of them strong, profound emotions. Could he then express…perhaps…love? The memory could suggest that he knew the actions, at least.
Across from him Risa was fiddling with her cup, sliding it from one hand to another, her hair falling from behind her ear to obscure her downturn face.
She said, "I think she wants something from you." They're eyes met and she shrugged. "The Mystic wants something from you."
"You mean from Krad."
"Maybe both." Risa took a sip from her tea, her eyes never leaving his face. "I'm just saying…when I came in, it was your chest she was reaching into." She glanced down at his heart and he felt his skin tingle. "That was so scary," she whispered absently. "Like a horror story." He supposed others would have known that now was the right time to pull her into a comforting embrace and ease away her worries, but Satoshi didn't know that and, even if he did, he probably wouldn't have done it. The only real way to ease her worries was through action and protection, and those things gave more of a result than a stiff embrace from him.
"But she responds to Krad, and he to her. And take into account their intimacy--." They both glanced unconsciously towards the door, towards the floor where, only minutes before, they had been tangled together in a rather compromising position. Risa quickly ducked her head and hid a broad smile while he blushed furiously and averted his eyes towards the ceiling. Damn him. Damn him and his red cheeks. "That was Krad's memory, and that was the Mystic I saw. How does that make any sense?"
Risa dragged her sleeve across her eyes and shrugged, forcing the smile from her mouth. "I don't know much about Krad, but I think that's something you'll have to ask him yourself." She bit her lip. "Er, can you do that? Ask him, I mean," she asked tentatively.
He rubbed his chest unknowingly and took a drag from his mug. "I can," he said when he lowered the cup. "The only unknown factor is whether he'll answer me or not." There must have been definite vehemence in his voice, because he knew Risa was itching to ask him questions about that bloody monster, but she raised no such interrogation. He had to admire her for her restraint, though; anyone else would have been bombarding him with frantic questions, (if they hadn't already run from his presence, screaming their heads off in fear), but she was keeping quite level with him and reacting normally.
He didn't know if she was aware as to just how much he appreciated that.
A short pause stretched out between them. It wasn't for lack of words, because they both knew there was a plethora of words that still needed to be said, but more so a lack of grace. How was he supposed to go on explaining things to her? What was the perfect segue? How could he lessen the intensity of his truths, and where was he supposed to begin in the first place?
"Um, I'm sorry to go off topic," she began suddenly, staring into her cup. Satoshi braced himself against the counter, his long arms not really fitting on the stone. "But I…." She hesitated, considering her next words. "I kind of…just…want to make sure that you know," she started. Satoshi raised an eyebrow.
"Know what?"
"That I came tonight not because I'm some mindless fan girl who's stalking you."
Another pause.
"You're not?" He shrugged and glanced down at his hands. "Darn."
Risa smiled widely at that, impressed by his little—if not dry—bout of humor. "I just wanted to find out more about you; about the rest of your life, not just what most of us see at school."
Satoshi nearly stopped breathing at that, his shoulders drooping a little. "You could have asked," he said quietly, and all Risa had to do was let out a haughty 'hmph' to receive a contradictory nod from him. "Okay, I guess I wouldn't have answered."
"You live in a fantastic world," she told him. He didn't agree.
"No, I really don't. There's nothing fantastic about it."
"There's everything fantastic about it," she explained. "But I'm not using it in the sense of everything being pretty rainbows and stage magic. Some things are…frightening. But fantastic, nonetheless."
He rubbed at a knot forming in his neck. He found that he really liked talking with Risa, but she was so much shorter than him, and he had to crane his neck down quite a ways to see her face through that sheet of hair. It was a sweet annoyance.
"If I were to call you strange," he said without thinking, stretching his neck from side to side, "would you find it to be a compliment or an insult?"
She made a face at him but was in no way offended. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You're not running away, and I find that strange."
She smirked at him. "I used to chase after Dark, Satoshi. I used to get myself into trouble. Is this any different?"
"Dark wouldn't have hurt you," he replied blandly. She shrugged almost before he finished his sentence, swirling her tea before she drank it.
"Well, I feel safe with you," she answered. "So I don't believe you'll hurt me either. I trust you."
He felt an obligation to tell her she was wrong, that it didn't matter what he wanted and that Krad would likely hurt her far worse in the future, but the surety with how she had said it was so strong that he couldn't find it in himself to prove it false. He wanted it to be true.
"And when I say I trust you," she went on, "I mean also that I trust you're going to tell me about all the fantastic details of your life." Satoshi stared at her for a bit before a grin—an impish grin, so much more rare than a smile to him—tugged at his lips.
"In so many words."
She rolled her eyes dramatically, playfully. "In so many words."
---------------------------------------------------
The ideal course of action after that would have been for Risa to gently settle Satoshi comfortably on the sofa so he could relax and then, hopefully, garner some information from him in a little more than the few words he promised. Risa anticipated the rest of the night to be peaceful, ending in closed eyes and quiet snores, (his in his room and hers in her own back home, of course), all of which would culminate in thoroughly skipping school the next day because, really, were either of them expected to go to school? Certainly not after the battle royale at the museum, the frigid night swim at the beach, the multiple accounts of near death experiences and the prospect of a magical sadist stalking them? No one, no one, should ever be expected to endure any other form of hardship beyond that list of activities, were they? Even something as typical and required as school?
Risa thought absolutely not.
No, her plan of action was to finish the evening with Satoshi and then let him fall into much needed sleep and leave him be. Everything done, enough said. She could stand to wait until the next day to bask in the relationship she was making with him.
But, of course, the horribly tormenting hand of Fate gave little concern to what Risa thought would be the rest of the evening. More or less, it decided to kick them both while they were down because, at that wonderfully peaceful and iconic moment of wearied serenity, all Hell seemed to break loose into Satoshi's apartment with a cruel and vengeful relentlessness.
The window Risa had been looking through moments before suddenly imploded on itself, taking with it not only the glass but the wooden frame work, the white-painted pane and the curtain, all of it sailing into the room with an almighty crash. Risa screamed and recoiled into herself, crouching down onto the kitchen tile and throwing her hands over her head. In the breath of a second Satoshi had leapt over the countertop and was kneeling beside her, shielding her from the debris with his body. There was a rumbling into the floor, a pained, human cry that came from neither of them and then the gust of cold wind as the sound of—was that wings?—beat furiously beyond her line of vision.
"What…?! Satoshi! Satoshi, are you okay?" she demanded immediately. It was completely dark, the candles having been forcibly blown out, and she reached out through the shadows to inspect his entire body. Her mind was racing irrationally, forgetting that she had used Silence to lock away the moonlight and thinking that it was the Mystic, back again to hurt him. She touched his chest, his face, his arm. Was he whole? Was he hurt?
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insisted, but she wasn't listening. She was nearly frantic with checking him. He grabbed her hands and caught her attention. "I'm fine," he said, almost frustrated, more endeared.
"Satoshi," she breathed, hoping she was looking at him. "What was that?"
"I don't know. Don't move." He let go of her hands and slipped away, sidling along the kitchen floor to peek into the living room. Risa grabbed for him.
"Be careful!"
"It's fine, stay there…" She refused to even breathe while he separated from her in the darkness. Moments passed and Risa felt suddenly abandoned, even though she knew Satoshi couldn't have been more than a few feet away.
"Satoshi?" she whispered. Nothing, at first. "Satoshi?"
"Damn it!"
A groan sounded from the living room and Risa jumped. It wasn't Satoshi's voice.
"Is that a person?"
"No." He was back in the blink of an eye, his hands on her arms to keep her from moving. "You can't."
"What just happened?
What was that?" There was another groan followed by the all too
human gasp of someone in dire pain. "Who is that?!" The sound
of wings. The same air rush of beating wings.
"Is that
Dar--!"
"Risa!"
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He hated himself.
No, he hated the situations he was put in more.
No, he hated the world in the state that it existed in, because it was this diabolically tormenting world that refused to ever—ever—give him a single moment of true rest.
At that very moment Daisuke Niwa was lying in his living room, having already blasted through the side of the building and uncermoniously shoved his sofa across the room. It was a stroke of good luck that the wind from the impact had extinguished all the candles, or else there would have been an inferno to deal with as well. Instead Satoshi was granted the small compensation of near complete darkness, with the flickering flames gone and no other heavenly light to speak of. Before him Risa was fighting to stand up but he kept her down. Darkness may have been their veil, but soon her eyes would adjust to what feeble glows were coming from the distant streetlamps and the miniscule stars, and then she'd see Dark's wings on Niwa's body…and he couldn't do that to Daisuke.
Dark and Daisuke's secret was their to own to reveal, and he would let them reveal it at their own leisure, especially in regards to a Harada sister.
"Risa, stop."
Her own hands rested on his forearms and he could feel her breath on the skin of his cheek. "Someone is hurt! And I think it's Da--."
"Forgive me," he interrupted. He was glad for their blindness, especially for what he was about to do.
"What--,"
"I'll get you home, and you'll remember everything, so don't worry."
"What?"
"This won't hurt." With careful hands he reached for the outline of her body, tracing his palms caressingly along her ribs and to her waist. He felt her shiver beneath his touch. "Find me tomorrow, at school, but don't act any differently. At the lunch hour, meet me on the roof. We can talk then. I'll explain, I will, I promise. Just…I'm just sorry for this…."
She gripped his sleeves as his hands slid around her, to the small of her back. "Wh-what are you doing?" she breathed raggedly.
Whatever spark of desire he might have felt at her breathless words was dulled with the prospect that he was about to purposely shock her with a blast of his magic, knock her out into unconsciousness again, and then find a way to get her home. But he couldn't do it directly to her head; however faint Krad's hold was Satoshi didn't trust the potency of the magic he was about to summon. He had so little control on Krad's magic, and if he worked directly on her mind he might erase her entire memory, or worse. No…better to just touch the base of her spinal chord, risk less direct damage to her brain.
But even that plan didn't change the fact that he felt guilty for simply forcing her into submission so he could ship her away.
Oh, how he hated this miserable world.
"Tomorrow, the lunch hour, on the roof. I'll get you home." He took a deep breath and then concentrated on regulating the magic. Not too much. He had to make sure he didn't use too much.
Risa finally understood what he meant and she went still, her hands releasing his sleeves, going slack in sad defeat.
"Oh," she said. "Magic?" He knew his silence was enough of an answer. "The night's over then?"
He didn't trust himself to reply. She sat there quietly as he gathered his focus, his mind sharpening itself to its top form, ready to perform a task as challenging mentally for him as it was physically. When he was ready he opened his eyes and sat a little straighter.
"I'll count to three before…. Try not to move when it hits you."
"When it hits me," she was calm of voice.
"Yes."
"Then I should do this before that." Her hands reached through the darkness for his face, her fingers running experimentally over his features. She found his mouth and then dragged him down to her, kissing him sweetly but strongly. Heat flushed his entire body once more, and it took all his discipline to keep his mind focused. She pulled away slowly and he could practically feel her smile: a smile that wasn't so much amusement as it was terribly, terribly sad that the night was ending, and on this note nonetheless. "Krad will be back again, after tonight," she explained needlessly. "So I wanted to take advantage."
He didn't blame her. In the grateful mask of shadows Satoshi leaned back in to where he knew she was and claimed her lips more thoroughly, glad that there was no light. Her arms went around his neck as his hands slipped nimbly beneath her shirt. She gasped at the abruptness of his skin against hers and, before he completely passed out from euphoric embarrassment, he pressed his fingertips into her delicate spine, mumbled a 'one, two, three' against her lips and sparked her with his golden light and then felt her go instantly limp in his arms.
He waited a moment. He didn't trust himself to move right away.
Finally he drew his hands out from her shirt and lifted her in his arms, her head against his shoulder, her face upturned to his neck. Carefully, cautiously, he made his way out of the kitchen and into the tattered living room, where the writhing shadow of black wings was flexing.
"You can rest now, Wiz," he said tiredly. The darkened shadow let out a frantic yet drained 'kyuu' and then sized down into a bouncing black smudge at his feet, exhausted.
Satoshi's vision had begun to adjust to the darkness and he could see the outline of Niwa better now, sprawled unflatteringly on his face on the floor, his limbs splayed about, his moans coming from a pain induced sleep. He shifted Risa's weight and knelt down next to Dai's head, reaching out a hand to check his pulse. It was hardly steady, but racing like mad.
The night, for him, was far from over.
"I'll take care of him," Satoshi said, addressing the little creature. Wiz twitched in relief and nuzzled his knee in appreciation. Satoshi only drew in a long breath and refused to let it out. An unconscious Daisuke on his floor. An unconscious Risa in his arms. A cold wind blowing in from the enormous hole in his wall.
At least he knew that his hate for the world was mutual.
Something hard and pointy, not Wiz's furry head, pressed into his leg. He looked down and cradled Risa's head closer to his chest, leaning over her to get a better look at whatever the object was. Wiz said 'kyuu' again and pushed his treasure into Satoshi's leg once more. It was something rather large and rectangular, and it was very heavy when he reached down to pick it up. The leather bound cover fell open and the sound of whispering pages shifting met his ears.
It was the journal.
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Daisuke's eyes opened for only half a second, registered the darkness around him and the floor beneath his cheek, registered another human body next to him, registered the faraway understanding that it was Satoshi and that Wiz had succeeded in getting him safely to Hiwatari's, and then registered that he was safe now. His eyes closed again and he surrendered himself completely to the pain and fatigue…and yet, in the back of his mind, he also had time to register that in the brief moment he had taken to look around, he hadn't registered the Mystic's Dream anywhere, and that had seemed supremely odd.
A/N: I know I took more than a lifetime to get this chapter up, but I was having trouble smoothing out the transition from one situation to another. I'm sorry for taking so long and I appreciate all my readers who have stayed faithful to this story. I do plan on finishing this thing, and promise to get the next chapter up much sooner.
