Sheer Connection
20th March 2009
Series: The Seer

Chapter 24

Shizuka stood in the mess hall queue carefully watching Aran assist the head chef in serving the crew. The young boy didn't smile, didn't joke, but remained completely polite and amiable, appearing approachable and friendly. Quite a few of the men stopped to chat as they collected their meals and Aran spoke quietly with each of them in turn.

The monk might have his reservations about Aran's lineage but it was hard to find fault with the boy's loyalties.

Arriving at the line head, Shizuka nodded to Aran who returned the indication before turning away from the main serving table and the food there to collect a covered tray for Watanuki from one of the nearby shelves. Moving to one side, Shizuka accepted the specially prepared tray and set it down with a murmur of thanks to inspect it.

As his usual custom, he cast his senses over the food. Normally, nothing happened. Today, when he lifted the lid off the bowl of soup, the bowl itself shifted away from his questing fingers. It was only a millimetre but… Tossing the little lid aside, Shizuka quickly snatched up the bowl at the same time he unleashed a whisper of his Centre into his hand, causing the soup inside the bowl to suddenly evaporate into a thick cloud with an angry hiss.

The mess hall went dead quiet, Aran looking over at him, wide-eyed and completely flabbergasted.

Dismissing Aran's involvement, Shizuka studied the bowl and noticed a faint cloudy residue along the sides, pale white and smoky-looking. His vision shifted into human sight, flickering like candlelight and the image vanished, when it flickered back, the white mist appeared to be evaporating. He dared not bring it too near to his face to get a closer look.

"Doumeki-san?" He turned to find Arashi beside him, peering cautiously at the bowl in his hand. Her eyes narrowed, "There is something wrong in that bowl."

Irritated to find the smoke had almost completely eradicated traces of itself, he handed the bowl to her, "It's dispersing. The bowl is a normal one, merely a vessel. But someone may have put poison in it." In the silence, his voice had carried through the hall and the quiet turned deafening. He did not bother searching their faces. The only chance the perpetrator might have—

He dashed, startling people nearby as he forced Spirit energy beneath his feet to move, moving so quickly that he must have appeared indistinct to them. The hallways blurred by, he made for the steps to head onto the deck and he knocked someone over as he arrived at the landing, the door already open but—

Fog.

He froze, thick mist curling around him as he stood in the doorway to the deck, the person he'd knocked over behind him on the landing. He absently stepped back onto the landing and reached to help the person up, "Pardon me," he muttered, eyes on the thick fog outside. "You were coming in from there?"

"Barely made it," replied the weathered old English sailor, staring wide-eyed at the fog, backing away until he saw the mist did not come near the monk. "I was right near the doorway, I was, when the mist suddenly curled over the railing and poured onto the decks." He turned pale blue eyes up at the monk, "But the others, they…"

"Others?" Shizuka's eyes narrowed sidelong at him.

"There be other men out there." The man shook his head, nervously pulling his cap off his head and twisting it in his hands. "They were just a few metres away from me but the fog… it… it seemed to just swallow them!" Wide-eyed, he gestured out the door, "Their voices disappeared from behind me as the mist rolled in and now ye can hear nothing!"

Shizuka turned to look, raising his hand to quiet the man so he could listen. Dead silence. But beneath his feet, the decks hummed a continuous distant thrum, the wards intact. He muttered to the sailor, "Call to them."

Hesitantly, the man inched forward to lean his head toward the doorway, "Ahoy out there!"

The sound, instead of dispersing into the fog, seemed to be swallowed up by it. Shizuka tensed. He touched the sailor's shoulder, "Head below deck. See if there was anyone out on the other open levels. They should all be closed but rouse the call to shut the hull at all points, including all the port holes. Hurry."

"Aye, sir." He dashed away, nearly colliding with Arashi at the bottom of the steps.

"Doumeki-san!" she called, running up to him, "What happened to—" She stared out at the mist in surprise a moment before recoiling, eyes wide. "What the…?"

"I believe a gateway is open," Shizuka told her, staring balefully out at the thick mist. "Whatever the mist is, it's found a loophole in the wards and made it on deck. It has opened a… a path." Shaking his head, "Anyone in it has been swallowed up."

"And taken where?" She demanded, turning to him with fiery eyes. "My husband was out by the wheel!"

"He would have jumped down and into the cabins," Shizuka mused aloud. "I do not think Sorata is the type to be caught flat-footed. But the crew, on the other hand…"

Arashi turned to look out at the fog when he trailed off, a worried frown coming to her face. A determined expression settled on her features and she turned quickly away, trotting down the stairs as she called back over her shoulder, "I will see to the gateway. If it's anything untoward, I can shut it. If it's a distraction, you will need to find a way through it."

"Ahh," Shizuka acknowledged, admiringly her resolve and calm. He fished a paint brush from his pocket with one hand and a knife with the other. "If you find my body here, make sure no one disturbs it or the wards."

She froze on the bottom step, face whipping over her shoulder to stare at him, "Are you…?" He nodded. That determination surfaced on her expression again and she nodded before dashing away. "Be careful."

Shizuka crouched, slicing his arm with the knife and dipping the paintbrush into the dribble of blood. Leaving a large enough square of space to sit within, he quickly painted the required symbols onto the floor, one each to the north, south, east and west, murmuring the protection chant as he went. The earlier circle he'd used in ink would have served but that took too much time, a spell meant to take more time in preparation so as to conserve energy at its casting. This blood spell, quick in its preparation, took greater effort to initiate and maintain.

No time.

Holding the last stroke, brush wet for the finishing touch, Doumeki settled on the floor between the characters, crossing his legs between them and bracing his upper body weight on an elbow, other hand reaching out and… there. The characters flashed with light, sealing him in.

Dropping the brush, Shizuka curled his fingers into a seal and Detached.

Standing before his physical form always felt a little nerve-wrecking, the familiar fear of being unable to return drifting idly through his mind. Watanuki, he thought, and gathered his resolve.

When he turned, he almost gasped, startled to find an insubstantial-looking gold chain encircling the smallest finger of his left hand. Raising his hand to peer closer at it, he found no resistance, it weighed nothing at all and he did not actually 'feel' it there. It appeared to be floating above the surface of his see-through skin and when he gave his hand a shake, the chain moved fluidly, still feeling as though except for the sight of it, it didn't really exist.

Bringing his hand up, Shizuka stared at it, misty-looking and certainly a lot less visible than his own current already ghostly form. It extended from his finger out into the fog in a straight line, and Shizuka realised this was the manifestation of his connection to Watanuki. Astonished and rather proud, he cast his senses into it and found it felt like Watanuki himself; strong and quiet but tumultuous. Inspired, Shizuka prepared to use it as a guide to cross the mist, relief blossoming in his chest at this connection but the chain suddenly twitched, glinting as though reflecting light—

Doumeki! Watanuki's 'voice' echoed in his head, startled and panicked.

I'm on my way, he replied instantly, sensing his master's surprise at the response, turning to hover his right hand over the chain and dashing forward into the thickness without regard for his safety –Watanuki would kill him for that— left hand extended toward where the chain disappeared into the fog. The air moved in a cloying wind and it seemed to Shizuka that he moved through syrup, the fog fel substantial and weighing. Too much time, too long, not fast enough, and he growled in frustration.

Watanuki spoke in his head, There's someone…! An echo of pain danced across Shizuka's temple. Damn it!

He focused a little harder, narrowing his eyes to shade his vision from the moving figures in the mist, ignoring the faint shadows weaving in the wind, lashing at the tips of his robes, at the chain, but avoiding his skin. He registered the fog seemed to be retreating from him, thrashing its resistance as the charms on the deck began to glow.

In a few more breaths, his palm slipped through the wood surface of a door, his own charms upon it humming recognition at him. Pulling himself through it, the scene unfolding as his vision cleared; Watanuki cowered on the floor, temple bloodied, a bruise already forming, and a man, that sailor he'd noticed by the rigging yesterday, standing over him, eyes wild, a chair in his hands raised to strike.

Without a thought, Shizuka dashed forward, arms extending to push the man away but trying not to hurt him. But as the monk touched him, he recoiled, thrashing and screaming, mist rising from his skin, eyes and mouth as he collapsed to the floor.

"Doumeki?" Shizuka turned. A wide-eyed Watanuki sat up, chin dipped, a hand shading his eyes as he stared. "You're…" he swallowed nervously, "So… white. I've never seen a Spirit so… pure!"

Watanuki, he slid his eyes sideways to his master as he asked, are you alright?

With a jerk, Watanuki seemed to wake up. He pounced to his feet, predictably tottering a moment from dizziness at his sudden movement. "You're in spirit form!" he accused, pointing.

Too loud, Shizuka muttered, gaze swinging back to the figure on the floor. If Watanuki could be so energetic, he must be fine. He rubbed absently at the hum in his shoulder as he noticed a little sadly that he couldn't see the chain anymore in this light.

"What?!" came the angry demand from behind him.

You can see I am indeed in spirit form, Shizuka replied in a louder voice, moving toward the collapsed man.

"You didn't say you could do that!"

You didn't ask. He idly checked his left hand for the chain; still wasn't visible.

"I'm not supposed to need to ask, you could have just told me," Watanuki huffed, hands curling into frustrated claws.

Should I just outpour my entire soul, then? Shizuka asked calmly, crouching over the man to examine him.

"Well, of course not," Watanuki snapped, "Some things could be none of my business. That would be rude of me to demand—" He broke off and glared, cheeks pink, "But surely you can judge for yourself what you should tell me! Like speaking English!"

Deliberately obtuse, Shizuka dryly replied, You already know I speak English.

"Aarrgh!" Watanuki exclaimed with aggravation, fingers curling into his hair.

It looks like a Possession, the monk pronounced, and Watanuki ceased his fit instantly. He came to stand by Shizuka's shoulder and bent over the monk's shoulder to peer at the man.

"It's James!" he exclaimed. "He's one of the most senior crew here." Wrinkling his nose, "A bit easy to fool but generally good. But perhaps a bit bitter, though…"

How did you not recognise him before? Shizuka asked, puzzled by the way Watanuki spoke the man's name.

Watanuki paused, hesitating, before he replied, "I… could not see him clearly when he first came in. I just… I opened the door because… well, I didn't think to check, I heard the knock and just…" He shrugged, "When I saw him, he… I knew that I knew him. I just…"

Turning to look up his master, Shizuka thought Watanuki seemed to be in doubt over his own words. A nervous air hung about the noble, a slightly frightened cast. Not for the first time, Shizuka wondered what his master saw of the Other World –it would have taken a severe vision to obscure his sight of the Human World, the world in which Watanuki existed.

Briefly, it flitted through the monk's head that perhaps Watanuki didn't really belong entirely on this plane of existence before he pushed the thought away.

Easy to fool? Shizuka asked quietly, picking up on something else Watanuki had said and moving the topic along.

"Pranks and things the others play on him," Watanuki clarified, obviously missing the importance of what he'd said, his cheeks colouring a little as he stared back. "H-he's too trusting, they say, despite all his bluff and bluster; gets fleeced in the markets sometimes." Blinking, he frowned and asked, "Why? What are you thinking?"

Did you ever look at his soul? His spirit? Shizuka asked.

Startled, "Er… no. Should I have?"

I cannot see a soul within a body, I thought perhaps you would be able to do that. Shizuka looked down at the still body, hovering a sensing hand just over the skin. But I think he might have had a hurt, a scar. Some kind of weakness. He glanced up when his master didn't immediately reply.

"The source of his bitterness?" Watanuki mused thoughtfully, eyes going sharp.

Yes. Something that made him weak, a break in his character's defences that he could not fight and which allowed him to be possessed. Shizuka returned to skimming his hand over the body, assessing the man's condition.

"How is he?"

Alive. But you should not touch him.

"I haven't tried to yet, have I?!" Watanuki snapped, sounding affronted. "He was just possessed! Even I know it would be a bad idea to get close to—"

The door slammed open. "Watanuki-san?"

"I'm fine!" Watanuki announced loudly, straightening up like a shot and facing Arashi --as though nearly caught at something red-handed-- cheeks suddenly flushed. Shizuka puzzled at the reaction though he mostly found it amusing.

Arashi and Sorata regarded him with relief on their faces then their gazes shifted to the collapsed James. Arashi spoke first, "What happened?"

"Doumeki touched him and it undid some kind of possession," Watanuki explained, moving away to give them space to examine the body.

"Allow me to assess his condition." Arashi crouched by James immediately, eyes only briefly skimming over Shizuka as though unable to truly perceive his presence in his current form, frowning a moment before turning to James.

Sorata whistled low as he squinted at the monk, approaching much more slowly. "Hey, I can almost see you."

I'm fairly certain you can hear me clearly, though, Shizuka commented.

"I can only barely see your outline," Arashi paused in her work to quietly say.

"You're pretty good, Doumeki," Sorata smiled. "I'm impressed." With a nod, he knelt to hover his hands over James, checking for any negative energies. "He's okay. Looks like whatever had him is all gone." He turned the man properly over onto his back and did a few more checks. "Yeah, he's going to be alright."

No, he's not, Shizuka negated, staring at the unconscious sailor. He stood up and made for the door. I'll be back in a moment and explain then. Keep an eye on him. He pointed to Watanuki.

"I'm not in any danger!" the noble hissed, cheeks going bright.

Shizuka ignored him, heading out the door were he saw the mist had cleared to being back behind the railing. It had probably happened when the possession's intentions had revealed its true nature—

Later. He'd discuss it with them later.

Crossing the deck past the disoriented crew, Shizuka glanced at his left hand and could barely see the outline of the chain. A corner of his lips quirked up at it, the sight of it pleasing in some way he couldn't express. But in the next moment he berated himself for getting distracted and slipped slowly into his protection circle. Ignoring the few who had gathered around his body to gawk, he settled in place, fitting himself back into his physical body, distantly hearing the wind and fog thrash against the ship's charms.

Blinking, he opened his eyes, hand reaching to rub at his tingling shoulder, the quiet of the World returning as with the limitations of this form. He unfolded and stood, glancing up at the few gathered sailors around him—

And froze. Curling over their shoulders and neck, faintly and slipping in and out of his Vision, clung whispers of the white fog.

TBC.