http://clampfix.fanworks.net/x-fix/dark7.txt </head><body><pre>Not mine, the characters are CLAMP's and the world is Laurell K. Hamilton's. Some violence, some profanity, vague shounen ai, Subaru being depressed. ~Chapter Seven~ The valuable and elderly copy of an old Western treatise on the use of ceremonial blades hit the wall of my apartment with a very satisfying "thwack." It was number five without any valuable information whatsoever. I almost wished that I still had access to the clan's extensive magical library. Since the curiosity excuse had begun to wear thin, even to myself, I was putting my research into the Magami family under the "self- defense" category. If the entire world was conspiring to shove me into whatever the hell was going on, I at least wanted to go in with *some* information. Which I was obviously not going to be able to get from these books. And *damned* if I was going to call Magami-san and ask her if she could tell me anything. I was not resigned enough to actually start involving myself on a voluntary basis. It had taken me long enough to convince her that my job ended once the dead body was back in the ground and that I wasn't going to help her track down the stolen sword. But then, I've always been the type to hold off on doing something I'll obviously eventually have to until someone drags me kicking and screaming into it. Just look at the way I acted my first year in Tokyo... with Seishirou-san and Hokuto... Damn it, I was *not* going to think about it, I had research to do and there was no excuse for sitting around and making myself miserable. I grabbed the top book off the shrinking stack on the side of my desk, and flipped to the first page. Of *course* there was neither an index nor a table of contents, since no one had ever bothered to put any of these into any sort of modern edition. I would just have to skim. Several minutes later, I'd skimmed the same page three times and absorbed almost an entire word. My forehead bounced off the surface of the desk. I was *not* able to concentrate on this anymore... and I wanted a cigarette. I shoved the chair back from the desk and headed over to my tiny balcony. It was the one part of my room that I really liked. Security hazard or no. Vampires couldn't get in uninvited anyway, and I really enjoyed watching the lights of the city spread out around my apartment building. A freezing breeze swirled in as I opened the sliding glass door. The sounds of the street several stories below were muted by distance and by the fact that it was only a few hours after midnight. I liked Tokyo better this way, a silent friend. No, that was the wrong word. It wasn't a friend--it could care less what happened to something as small as me. But I still loved this city. Love/hate relationship, I suppose. I've got a lot of those going on. I dug my slightly crumpled package of cigarettes out of my pants pocket, shook one out and held it to my lips. The tiny flame of my lighter flickered wildly in the wind, but the cigarette caught anyway. I took a deep drag, then let the smoke trickle out past my lips. ~"It'll kill you some day, you know."~ He'd said that to me ...God, more than eight years ago. The first time we met after... everything... happened. Said it, and laughed. I didn't remember what I'd said back, but it didn't really matter. In my profession, lung cancer was the last thing likely to kill me. Anyway, I'd had my own death planned for years. Method wasn't important. I just wanted it to be him, and not some random undead... that is, if he would ever cooperate. I was painfully aware that I was still just an amusement to him. Not worth the death he gave out to passersby every day. Not worth any effort at all... ...or so I had thought. But he had dragged me out of that hellhole vampire lair, had saved my life. I didn't know how to reconcile the man of the meaningless smile and cutting words with the person who had stepped in and threatened to kill them all for trying to hurt me. Which was real? What did I *want* to be the truth, anyway? The smoke from my cigarette curled upwards, offering no answers. I couldn't stop hating him, no matter what he did. I *know* that he can't do anything drastic enough to make me stop loving him--that one's been tested to its limit already. I don't see any way to resolve it short of death. And since I could never kill him, the death will have to be mine. Someday... A sharp pain in my hand startled me out of my thoughts. Reflexively, I dropped the cigarette. It tumbled down through the night winds, tiny glowing ember vanishing quickly into the vast sea of darkness. The damn thing had burned right down to my fingers while I was thinking. I got out another cigarette and tried to light it a few times before the lighter finally got the upper hand over the wind. The acrid smoke filled my lungs, irritating, familiar. Yeah. Someday, I prayed he would kill me. And this might just be the event that finally pushed him into it--if we were on opposite sides, if he finally wanted to enough... Another measured breath, another plume of smoke on the chilly breeze. It's not like there was anyone who'd miss me. Neesan was dead, I'd cut contact with the rest of my family, and as for friends, I was never the most social person. But, for some reason, the idea of dying wasn't so attractive anymore. I wondered if *he* would miss me. --- Five quiet weeks went by very, very slowly. It wasn't that I disliked the peace. On the contrary, I usually never get enough vacation time. Apparently the vampires were being less homicidal than usual this month. They didn't actually have to kill to feed; no vampire could drink enough to kill someone in one feeding. The only deaths you got either came from multiple bites or were deliberate murders. Or both. And that was why the world needed vampire slayers. Also the only reason I didn't feel guilty about my job. No cop could hope to face down a vampire--they're stronger, faster, and damned hard to kill. And that's not even counting the fact that if you let a vampire look you in the eyes they'll own you completely. My job was to step in, track down, and execute the ones that killed people for fun. I wasn't that fond of it, but a strange mix of stubbornness and anger and a sense of justice kept me doing it. That, and the fact that it was really all I knew how to do. "Vampire slaying" isn't something you put on your resume to get a job at McDonald's. And after eight years of this job, I'd gotten nearly as addicted to the adrenaline as I was to nicotine. And two weeks of sitting around in my room, reading through my extremely boring library of magical reference books, had made me so jumpy I couldn't sit still for ten minutes consecutively. I didn't *like* my job, but I couldn't stand not having anything to do. On the positive side, it had given me enough time to heal. And that ridiculous cast was gone. Which meant that there was really nothing keeping me from going out and *finding* something to do... I sighed, and tipped back in my chair. I was *not* going to contact Hinoto-san, I was *not* going to call the Togakushi shrine and make sure they were all still all right, I was *not*... I was just going to sit here quietly and not get my arm broken again looking for trouble. My grandmother hadn't called back. I felt vaguely guilty about ignoring her call, but not actually bad enough to do something about it. I'd cut my ties with my family years ago. On the other hand, even the paperwork I would have had as Head of the Sumeragi family would have been preferable to this boredom. The phone rang. I fell over backwards in my chair. It rang again as I picked myself off the floor. I caught it before the third ring. "Hello?" I tried not to sound too enthusiastic. After all, I had an image to maintain. "Subaru-san?" the person on the other end said. I blinked for a moment before I placed the voice. "...Arisugawa-kun?" My voice chilled. "Why are you calling?" I'd thought I'd made it clear enough to Hinoto that I didn't want any part of her games. On the other hand, it would be better than this stultifying boredom... no it would *not*! What was I thinking? "We need your help," Arisugawa-kun said, disappointment at my less than cordial response fairly oozing out of the phone. I gritted my teeth. "Why?" "Because Kamui-kun's friend--you know, the cute little girl--is dead, his *other* friend the big scary guy apparently went psycho and carved him up pretty badly, and now he won't wake up and no one knows why. You used to be an onmyouji, right? We're kinda hoping that *you'll* know what's wrong with him because no one else does..." I nearly dropped the phone. *Why* hadn't I sensed any of this--? I'd put up wards around the Togakushi shrine, I should have known if something went that drastically wrong. I'd just sat around my house, assuming that they were fine... I closed my eyes. *This* was definitely my fault. I hadn't wanted them to be hurt, but intention counted for nothing at all. "I'll be there shortly. The Diet building, right?" "No," Arisugawa-kun said, "CLAMP campus. You know where that is?" I blinked. *Why* were they keeping the boy at my old school? Okay, admittedly, it had acres of very nice facilities. And if the current Chairman were still as eccentric as I remembered him being when he was the president of the high school division he would've been a complete pushover for Hinoto's apocalyptic stories. Maybe the coincidence wasn't that strange after all. "I know where it is. See you," I said, and hung up. --- The room was huge. Which was probably a good thing, because there were about ten people in it, hanging around the edges of a very large bed. Kamui lay in the center of the bed, looking very small and vulnerable. His hands and arms were completely swathed in bandages, the only color his dark hair and his open, distant purple eyes. I paused at the door, staring at the high-school boy. I did indeed know what was wrong with him. Not because I was an onmyouji. It was because I had spent nearly a month the same way when I was sixteen. "Well?" Arisugawa-kun muttered next to me. He was staring at Kamui too, wearing a small, sad smile. "He's gone within his heart," I replied, equally softly. "Because the world was too terrible to stay in anymore." "Can you *do* anything about it?" Arisugawa-kun clarified, looking a little irritated. I could feel the cool detachment of my working personality closing in over me. I knew the spell, technically; I hadn't had to use it for over ten years, but I still remembered it. Not that it was easy, or safe. Some part of my mind marshaled a whole list of good reasons not to try this, starting with "you could be killed" and ending with "didn't you say you weren't going to involve yourself anymore?" I nodded, ignoring the entire list. I couldn't possibly leave when someone needed my help as badly as it seemed Kamui did. Perhaps I hadn't changed as much as I thought I had, since I was young and wanted to save everyone in the world. The irritation melted off Arisugawa-kun's face at my affirmative, and he sighed, "Thank goodness." With a sudden amiable smile, he clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Good luck." I managed to summon a bit of a smile in response, and walked over to the side of the bed. Kishuu-san rose from her seat by the side of the bed, staring at me with a distant, cool expression. I wondered if she was angry with me for refusing to help them before--it was surprisingly difficult to tell what Kishuu-san thought about things. "*Can* you help him?" she said very quietly. "He's been like this for nearly three days." "I think that I can," I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to put a hand on Kamui's forehead. "But it's difficult. Please don't disturb me, no matter how long this takes." She nodded, stepping back. "...Be careful." I didn't respond. I was already absorbed in the opening of the spell. Light flowed around my hands as I whispered the incantation. It wasn't the words that mattered, but the focus they brought--still, I was not inclined to cut corners on something I hadn't tried in a decade. "Noubou akyasha... kyarabaya on arikya mariborisowaka..." The room went distant, and I moved my hands to Kamui's temples. "Noubou akyasha..." I was falling through darkness, the words of the chant resonating in the void. Memories swirled around me: a woman's face wreathed in flames, children's laughter, each enclosed in a tiny, delicate bubble. Beneath me, I could see water stretching endlessly out. It rippled suddenly, before I could reach it, and then reared upwards into immense dragons. They lashed out to bite, watery teeth snapping viciously at me. I raised my arms to protect my face, not daring to strike back. Fighting while I was within Kamui's mind would hurt the boy. Teeth closed on my arm, and blood streamed behind me as I fell towards the water. Another water-dragon reared and nipped at me, tearing the astral image of my coat. The dragons were all around me now, weaving hypnotically and diving in one by one to draw fresh blood. But the surface of the water was upon me now, and I dived through before the dragons could cause any more damage. As soon as I plunged into the waters, I could see the dark figures of three people standing close together. I arrowed toward them, ignoring the pain of the shallow wounds the dragon-guardians had inflicted on me. The water swirled outwards from that point, as if from the eye of a storm; I raised a hand again to protect my eyes from the lash of the troubled currents, and dived deeper. The place seemed to retreat, hovering just beyond my reach, and all I could do was watch the events play out as I approached. The three people were recognizable now; Kamui, Kotori and Fuuma, clinging together in terror. "Was that an earthquake?" Kamui said, sounding a little scared. "It was," Fuuma said, and there was a frightening note in his voice. Something I hadn't heard before--fury and power resting uneasily under his cool tone. "And part of my seal was released. Enough for me to take the body of this boy." ...What?! I tried again to reach the center of the maelstrom, but a current intervened and hurled me back from the increasingly ominous scene. Kamui's eyes widened, and he stepped away. "What? Fuuma, what are you saying!?" 'Fuuma' smiled, and his grip on Kotori's arm tightened. She looked up at him, brown eyes wide in fear. "Fuuma...? What--" "What I'm saying," he repeated, "is that I am not Fuuma. I am the Earth. Those idiots have helped me to release the first bond holding me back from really *doing* something about you human vermin." My mouth dropped open. He had been possessed. I hadn't even thought of the possibility, but of course, an untrained medium was always at risk of being taken over by some antagonistic spirit. It looked like the one Fuuma had fallen prey to was just a little more powerful than the average. Possessed, by the spirit of the Earth. This was not good at all. Kamui was white with shock. Fuuma released the girl, who backed up a few trembling steps, and advanced on the shorter boy. "Don't pretend you don't understand," he whispered, sliding a hand over Kamui's cheek. "That creature Hinoto has been telling you everything, hasn't she?" "Kotori, run!" Kamui yelled, his voice cracking. The girl backed up another few steps, terror and uncertainty written across her face. Her hands were at her mouth, eyes impossibly wide as she watched. Suddenly, the water vanished, and I fell heavily to my knees amongst a scene of complete devastation. It had probably once been a pool--I could still see some of the cracked steps to once side, and twisted steel bars rose overhead as if it had been glassed in. Glass. There was shattered glass everywhere. Oh, I had a *bad* feeling about this, considering how extensively Kamui had been bandaged... I got back to my feet and ran towards the center of the dreamscape, where Fuuma and Kamui stood together. Before I'd gone five steps, Fuuma lifted Kamui as if the younger boy weighed nothing and blew him back with a blast of raw power. Kamui hit hard on the edge of a shattered lump of concrete the size of a van. Blood flew from his mouth, and he slumped down to the ground, coughing. Fuuma advanced with a predatory stroll. I stopped. This was clearly a memory--*could* I even interrupt? And if I tried, what would happen--? Fuuma lifted Kamui, one hand bunched in the material of Kamui's white shirt. "You see, Kamui, you have the power to cage me again. So I'll just have to kill you before that can happen." He smiled beatifically, and suddenly I saw that his other hand held an ornate blade, Western in style, set with a large red stone. A ceremonial sword, I recognized it from a sketch in one of the books I'd read. Was that the one that Magami-san had been looking for? The blade flashed in the sun, and blood spurted as Fuuma stabbed it through the center of Kamui's palm. Kamui screamed. The setting changed again, suddenly and violently. Wires stretched around Kotori's limbs, pulling her from her crouch amidst the wreckage up to a semblance of a cross. I couldn't tell what was holding the cross together; it was made of the bare iron bars that had held up the glass, twisted and shattered yet somehow coherent. Wire draped the entire structure, holding the girl cruciform in the center. She struggled against her bonds, then stopped with a cry of pain as blood sprang up along the lines of wire. I shivered, and looked back at Kamui. He looked terrible; blood streaked the cement block he leaned on, and glass protruded from his hands and shoulders. His head was bowed; I wondered if it signified retreat or near- unconsciousness. Possibly both. Fuuma was standing on the arm of the crucifix, perfectly balanced, with a smile of bloodlust on his face. The blade, stained with Kamui's blood, was in his hand again. Kotori looked up, terror written across her innocent face. "Fuuma--" she whispered. I wondered what her next words would have been. Please don't kill me, maybe? The blade flashed down, and blood spurted from her chest. She rocked forward for a moment against the wires, then slumped. The wires tightened, and blood still flowing ran along them as they bit into her flesh. And passed through. And everything came to pieces. The dreamscape collapsed into darkness, with only Kamui remaining. He knelt in the center of the darkness, tears staining his cheeks, cradling Kotori's head against his shoulder. The glass and blood had vanished with the rest of the landscape. I started running again, hoping to catch the boy's attention before the scene repeated. "Shirou-kun!" Everything went liquid, and I was suddenly mired ankle-deep, unable to move. Kamui sank through the floor of the dreamscape, darkness swallowing him in streamers of liquid. A few seconds later, I was alone within his mind. I cursed. He'd gone even deeper. I would have to follow--and the deeper into his heart I went the less likely it got that I would ever find my way out. On the other hand, I'd never been one to quit a job half-finished. The darkness went liquid again, and I fell through, following Kamui. This time, there was no storm and no water to fight through. I found myself standing in what seemed like a park, watching three children playing tag. With a sudden shock, I recognized them: wide purple eyes on the younger boy, the curly blond hair on the girl--Kamui, Fuuma and Kotori, probably all younger than ten. Kamui had clearly decided to retreat to a happier time. I stepped forward. "Shirou-kun, listen to me." He didn't seem to hear. The three children ran past me, laughing. I turned to follow the trio, frustrated. How was I supposed to convince him to return to the world if he couldn't even acknowledge me? Suddenly, the younger Fuuma stopped. A seam of light appeared at the center of his face. I paled. This was going downhill--what was I going to do if Kamui retreated even deeper!? "Shirou-kun! Don't look!" He still didn't seem to hear me. In a trance of horror, he stared as the child-Fuuma tore like a cocoon to reveal the older Fuuma, holding the ceremonial blade he'd used to kill Kotori. White feathers sifted slowly down over him as he held Kamui's gaze. "I'll kill you..." he promised, and both he and the child-Kotori dissolved into feathers. Kamui fell to his knees, sobbing. I knelt by him. "Shirou-kun..." No response. "*Kamui!*" I shouted, reaching out to take his hands. He looked up, eyes wide with shock in his childish face. "Sumeragi-san?" he asked. I nodded. He pulled away, clutching at the feathers. "Fuuma and Kotori... please..." "Kamui, listen to me!" I ordered, catching his hands again. He glanced back uncertainly. "This is a dream," I said forcefully. Sudden hope flickered in his eyes, and I glanced away. He might be caught within a dream, but what he saw had really happened. "...You came here, inside yourself, to escape from the world. But you can't stay." He looked rebellious. "Why not?" "Because in here, nothing will happen, nothing will ever change. And if... if someone needs you, you won't be able to help them." Like my sister. This was all too much like my own situation had been--the best friend, the girl dying. Kamui looked away again, voice dull. "Who would need my help? Fuuma... Kotori... they're gone..." I winced. "Kamui. You have to return, because otherwise nothing will ever get better." He didn't move. I had to get through *somehow*... I looked down, and the inverted stars on the backs of my hands caught my gaze. Well. Maybe I could try empathy. I held out my hands. "Kamui, do you see the marks on my hands?" He frowned. "What are those?" "They are spells," I said. "Vampire marks." The scent of sakura, pale and honeyed, swirled softly around us as I continued. "Do you know what a vampire mark is, Kamui?" "...No," he said, staring at my hands. Well, I had his attention now. "They mean that a vampire has linked me to himself, as his servant. When you have four marks, you're tied to the vampire forever, you can't live without him. I only have two. Because the person who put them on me did it as part of a bet." I closed my eyes against the pain of recounting this particular story. "He gave these two marks to me when I was a child, and said that we would meet later and spend one year together. If he felt something for me, he would give me the other marks and stay with me forever. If not, he would kill me. You see, he had never felt anything for anyone. He had no emotions at all." I opened my eyes, and saw the cherry tree that had taken shape in response to my thoughts. "I lost. He felt nothing. But when he told me that, I retreated within myself just as you're doing now. And because I did that..." There was a girl in the white ceremonial robes of the Sumeragi family standing in front of the tree. You had to look hard to see the one she confronted, a man all in black under the branches. "Who is that?" Kamui whispered. "She looks like you..." "My sister," I said softly. "Watch." Hokuto approached the dark man, determination written on her face. They spoke, but the words were obscured by the hungry rustle of the tree's flower-laden branches. A smile touched Seishirou-san's face, showing the point of one fang, and he stepped forward. In a single smooth motion, he thrust his hand through Hokuto's chest. Blood spurted from the terrible wound. Kamui was on his feet in a moment, heading for the tree. I caught his wrist, holding him back. "It's only a memory. You can't do anything about it." "But, your sister--!" he said, staring back at me. There were tears in his eyes. I shook my head, touched by his concern. "When my sister died, I came back to reality. Because I had a wish to live for. And I'm still living for my wish, no matter what anyone else thinks of it." The child-Kamui gave me a searching look. "Because of that man?" I started. Was I *that* transparent? "...Yes." After a moment, I met Kamui's eyes. "Kamui... what is your wish?" He looked away. The tree had vanished; now a fragile image of Fuuma wove itself out of the darkness. "I..." he murmured, frowning. "My wish... is to protect Fuuma." He looked up, suddenly determined. "Because *that* is not Fuuma. I want to get Fuuma back." A tall order. But who was I to doubt other people's wishes? I put a hand on Kamui's shoulder, and he looked up at me. The image of Fuuma dissolved into feathers, blowing away on a wind that stirred nothing else. Before my eyes, the child aged, form blurring with shadowy flames as he returned to the Kamui that existed outside. Finally, sixteen again, he lifted eyes with the child's pain in them. "My wish is to bring Fuuma back..." Sympathy impelled me to reach out, and the boy practically fell into my arms. "Then return," I murmured, "for the sake of your wish." The spell dissolved gently, and weariness flooded over me as I returned to my body. Oh yeah-- I had forgotten that part of the spell. It always really knocked me out afterwards... With a sigh, I gave up my hopeless fight against unconsciousness and sagged face- first into the pillow. Distantly, I heard Kamui whisper, "Thank you... Subaru."</pre><p><a href="./">Back</a></p><p><a href=http://www.dreamhost.com/donate.cgi?id=216><img border=0 alt="Donate towards our web hosting bill!" src=https://secure.newdream.net/donate1.gif></a></p></body></html>