http://clampfix.fanworks.net/x-fix/storm2.txt </head><body><pre> Storm Front by Shanti Fader Part 2 It was nearly ten o'clock -- long after Yuka-chan's usual bedtime. But fatigue fought with elation on the little girl's face as her beloved and long-missing father pulled the blankets up to her chin. "But I'm not sleepy!" she protested, even as a yawn threatened to swallow the last word. "Yes, I think you are, little apple-blossom," Seiichirou chided playfully, ruffling the fine, flaxen-blonde hair. His own hair had been that fair when he was Yuka-chan's age, he reflected. Which meant she was probably doomed to go brown as she grew up , just as he had. And there were already slender needles of brown creeping into her bright green eyes. "You don't get to stay up all night, even if you did eat more ice cream than me and Mommy put together." Yuka-chan giggled, and Seiichirou bent down to kiss the petal-soft curve of her cheek. "Now, I'll probably be gone before you wake up, unless you want to get up very early. But I'll see you when I get home from work, and then we'll go and have some fun ." "Can we have sushi for dinner?" "Anything you want." "Why do you have to go to work?" "Because, sweetheart, if I don't then the otaku won't get their manga on time, and they'll come here and..." he paused, trying to think of a dreadful enough punishment. "...And they'll tickle me to death!" he finished triumphantly, plunging his hands under the blanket. Yuka-chan shrieked with laughter, kicking the blanket completely off the makeshift bed Seiichirou had constructed out of sofa cushions. "Now, go to sleep," he ordered, pulling the blanket back up and giving the girl one last kiss. Shimako was already in bed; when Seiichirou entered the room, she sat up and turned a serious face toward him. "Is she asleep?" "I think so." "Good. Now, tell me what's troubling you." Seiichirou turned away, began unknotting his tie. "Nothing's troubling me. I'm delighted that you came for a visit." "Nonsense. You barely said a word tonight at the ice cream shop." Shimako slipped out of bed and moved over to her husband in a whisper of blue silk. "Are you angry because we came without your confirming it?" The Wind-master fought a helpless drowning sensation. Part of him wanted to scream that yes, he was angry, he hated them, he was having an affair -- anything to get them out of here and away from the epicenter of danger. But he couldn't do that, couldn 't lie to his precious wife and shatter the love between them. And telling the truth was out of the question. Shimako wouldn't believe him, for one thing. She would think he had gone crazy, that he'd spent too much time reading shoujo manga at work. She would not believe the truth, and it would not convince her t o leave. Worst of all, Seiichirou admitted sadly, he knew that despite his very real fears, he did not want his family to leave. It had brought him so much joy to find them here, barely an hour after his talk with Sorata, more real joy than he'd known in months. His family was the center around which his life revolved, and they were far more real to him than the abstract battle of Angels and Seals, preserving kekkai, and global destruction, that he found himself embroiled in. _They are the reason I fight at all,_ Seiichirou thought as he continued to change his clothes, hanging his work clothes neatly in the closet. _They are my heart's blood. How can I drive them away? _But if I love them, how can I let them stay, and expose them to the danger? How can I protect them when I can't be with them all the time?_ Around and around the arguments chased themselves, like rodents in a wheel, getting nowhere. At last, Seiichirou turned to his wife and managed a pale smile. "It's wonderful to see you," he said, taking Shimako's face in his hands. "You have absolutely no idea how much I was longing to see you and Yuka-chan again. I was quiet in the ice-cream shop because....well, it took me a while to get over the surpris e." He laughed. "You know how I am with surprises, Shimako-san!" To Seiichirou's relief, Shimako laughed as well. "You great silly," she scolded him playfully. "Here I was, all worried! Now, won't you come to bed, my love?" She took him by the hands, pulled him down onto the bed beside her. Seiichirou obeyed, pushing the dread into the back of his heart as he buried his face in the pillow of her dark and fragrant hair. _Worrying now will not solve anything,_ he told himself. _Tomorrow will be time enough to find an answer._ The morning dawned warm and golden, with a sky scrubbed clean of the previous day's rain. Seiichirou had offered to take his family in to work with him, both to calm his fears and to give them a chance to see what he did, but Shimako had refused, saying she didn't want to get up that early. "Oh, don't worry -- Yuka-chan and I will find something to do," she said, brushing aside his concern. "Maybe we'll go grocery shopping. You've got hardly any food here, Seiichirou-san. And you know how much Yuka-chan loves the market." So he'd had no choice but to go on alone. He never saw the slim, upright figure standing on the roof of a nearby apartment building, the morning sun turning pale hair to gold. It was fortunate, Nataku thought, that people so seldom look up. The bioroid had the perfect vantage spot for observing Seiichirou's apartment and confirming what it had been sent to confirm. Nataku waited patiently, poised at the edge of the roof, for signs of movement from the woman and child. After some time, it saw what it needed, and sprang off the rooftop to report back and receive its next command. * * * * * For Seiichirou, the workday dragged interminably. The phones seemed to ring twice as much as usual, and the callers asked the most useless and inane questions. He couldn't focus on any one task for more than a few minutes, but flitted from one to anoth er, taking halfhearted stabs at many projects and finishing nothing. Little annoyances, which usually rolled off the amiable editor's back, grated on his nerves today, and Seiichirou actually found himself snapping at his assistant. About mid-afternoon, the telephone rang again. Seiichirou grabbed the receiver and barked a greeting into it. "...Seiichirou-san?" Shimako's voice was a thin, frightened whisper. "Oh!" he gasped in remorse, irritation dying. "I'm so sorry. What is it? Are you all right?" "Please...there's someone here. In the apartment. I don't know how he got in, but..." she made a small choking sound. "Please come home." Seiichirou stared dumbly at the phone for a moment. Then he said, "I'm on my way. Just....sit tight!" Slamming down the receiver, he bolted out of the office, oblivious to the scattered papers and curious stares he left in his wake. The first part of the task had been easy, but Nataku was finding the second part far more difficult. For one thing, the child ran far faster than her stubby legs ought to have permitted, and she seemed to have limitless energy. Moreover, her small frame allowed her to duck around and hide behind objects in the apartment, making her extremely tricky to catch. Briefly, after banging its elbows, knees, and head trying to follow the child under a table, Nataku considered returning to the other Angels and reporting the portion of the task it had been able to complete. But no -- it had been told to do this, and it must do it properly. The importance of this task had been stressed to Nataku repeatedly. A high-pitched screech told Nataku it was near its quarry. Emerging from beneath the table, it spotted the child just as she darted around the corner and into her father's bedroom. That was another difficulty -- the child made such distressing noises. Not only did they hurt Nataku's ears, but... _The soft, fresh feel of grass under bare feet...the warm sunlight on her arms and face as she ran, laughing with careless delight..._ ...but it brought up memories that confused Nataku, memories of a life that it once had known, but which were now nothing more than mere fragments, the memory of a dream. They felt like the memories of someone else; a life it had only heard about, not experienced firsthand. Drawing the edge of its long white cloth through its fingers, Nataku sternly reminded itself of the task at hand. While it had paused, caught by the memories of a life it no longer owned, the child had disappeared. Moving into the bedroom, slowly so as not to startle the child into running again, Nataku began to search. It looked under the bed first, moved by another glimmer from the other life. Then it yanked the blankets off the bed. The dresser drawers were next, methodically emptied one by one. The child was not under the nighttable, or hiding behind the chair. There was no other furniture in the spartan chamber. Puzzled, Nataku stood in the center of the room, uncertain where to look next. Then, like a light rising through murky water, another memory surfaced. Smiling triumphantly, Nataku walked over to the closet and threw open the door. It was rewarded by another ear-splitting scream, and by the sight of the girl who sat huddled on the floor surrounded by her father's shoes. Nataku's smile broadened. It crouched down so that its body filled the doorway, cutting off the girl's escape. The girl screamed again, clutching a tie which had fallen from its hanger. Nataku raised its white cloth, prepared to finish the job. And then it faltered, the satisfied smile slipping from its face. _Laughter, light and easy and free. Sunlight on soft, golden hair, floating behind the little girl as she ran through grass and wildflowers, as buyant and joyful as the butterfly she was chasing. _And then...a sudden shock of pain...the terror of not being able to move or run or even feel her limbs...a scream that chased itself round and round and never really died away..._ "I was you," Nataku said aloud to the terrified child, who could do nothing more than scream again and again. "I was _you._" It had to kill the girl. That was its task. That was what they had told it to do. Killing the Wind-master's family would shatter him, they had said, would rob him of his will to go on fighting. In destroying the Wind-master, they could break the chai n that bound the Dragons of Heaven together, end the deadlock. Satsuki had been correct when she pointed out that they had been wasting their energy in constantly throwing their strength at the most powerful of the Seals; Nataku's mission was the crucial first step in a new strategy. And yet... Nataku sank down to the floor, drawing the cloth between its fingers, and wondered what to do. Seiichirou's breath rasped loudly in his throat as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop over the streets of Tokyo. He didn't normally come home in this precipitous manner, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but the fear in Shimako's voice had been li ke a blade in his heart. He had to remind himself to stop and gague the distance between rooftops before making his leaps; once he miscalculated and came within inches of plummetting to the street. In his wake, the trees lining the streets began to quiver and then sway. One last leap, and he was on the roof of his own apartment building. Seiichirou sprang down to the ground, pelted around to the front entrance, and tore up the steps. His heart was racing as if he'd run the entire distance home, and within his veins th e Wind-master energies pulsed through him, gathering strength for the battle that almost certainly lay ahead. As he pounded up the inside steps, Seiichirou felt his mind flash back to the time before his marriage -- his shy, earnest courtship of Shimako, the unexpected delight when she finally grew tired of waiting and proposed to him. How long had it been befo re he could make it through the night without turning at least once to gaze at the woman beside him in astonishment and wonder that she was actually there? And Yuka-chan. His treasure, his sweet, golden child. For years after their marriage they had tried to have a baby, but with no luck. Seiichirou felt a lump rise up in his throat as he remembered the long hours waiting in doctor's offices, humiliating questions and the often painful tests, Shimako weeping in his arms when the lights were out. And then, when they had all but given up hope -- the miracle. Seiichirou blinked back tears and stared at his door, which stood unlocked and opened. For a moment he stood, hands clenched, physically unable to move. Then he gathered up his courage and pushed open the door. A wave of blood-scent assaulted him first, bringing the hard-fought tears back to his eyes. The next thing the Wind-master noticed was the silence lying thick and heavy over the place, as though a curtain had been drawn around his home, cutting it off from the outside world. Seiichirou, feeling more and more like an actor suddenly thrust out onto the wrong stage, moved toward the dark, still shape that lay crumpled on his living room floor. "Shimako-san?" he whispered hoarsely, kneeling by her side and clasping her hand in his. Her eyes, startlingly clean amidst the blood that fouled her face and caked in her hair, rolled up to greet him. "We only wanted...to surprise you," she murmured, choking a little as the blood pooled in her throat. "We thought...you'd be happy..." Seiichirou tightened his grip on her hand, pressed it against his cheek. "I'm sorry," he said brokenly. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to protect you. I only ever wanted....Yuka-chan. Where's Yuka-chan?" Shimako's only answer was a long, rattling sigh. Seiichirou barely heard even that. "Hold on," he told her, trying ineffectually to wipe the tangled hair from her face. "I'll find her. I'll find her. You're going to be all right. You're both going to be all right..." He released Shimako's hand, which fell nervelessly to the ground. "Yuka-chan?" Seiichirou called, climbing to his feet. "Where are you hiding, little apple-blossom? It's all right to come out now -- Daddy's here." There was no answer. He began moving furniture, calling as he peered behind everything. Still no answer. Outside, a flurry of autumn leaves tumbled swiftly down the street, occasionally lifting up into brightly colored whorls. A man, leaning forward against the wind, lost his hat and had to chase it for three blocks before retrieving it. "Yuka-chan!" A thread of panic came twisting through his voice as he moved into the kitchen, then the bathroom. "Yuka-chan! This isn't funny!" Nothing in the kitchen, nothing in the bathroom. The sight he dreaded did not materialize, but neither did the little girl, whole and safe, appear from any hiding place. Heart pounding, Seiichirou opened the door to the last room in his apartment. His bedroom, normally so neat, was a shambles. Clothes lay spilled all over the floor, the blankets and sheets had been yanked off his bed and lay puddled over a corner of the mattress. One of the end-tables and a chair had been knocked over. Seiichir ou's face was ashen as he took it in. "Yuka-chan!" he called, flinging aside blankets and clothing. "_Yuka-chan!_" Then he saw the open closet door, and his blood turned to ice. Half his clothes had been torn from their hangers. His shoes were scattered, hopelessly separated from their mates. And caught in the hinge of the closet door was one of his ties, the cream-colored silk muddy with dried blood, alongside a scrap of flow ered cotton. The room gave a sickening lurch, and Seiichirou's vision swam red. Stumbling and reeling like a drunken man, he made his way back to the living room, and the still figure lying on the floor. "Shimako," he whispered, and fell senseless beside her. To Be Continued... </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>