http://clampfix.fanworks.net/x-fix/storm3.txt </head><body><pre> Author's note: There are certain characters who tend to stand by the side of the action, who tend not to have many fics written for them, or start many threads. To me, these characters cry out to have their stories told, who ask that their struggles and sorrows and joys be recognized as well as those of the more "popular" characters. This is the reason I have written and posted "Storm Front." I hope you enjoyed it; please feel free to contact me at shanti@haven.org with responses, questions, critiques, etc. And now, the conclusion. Storm Front by Shanti Fader Part 3/3 "Hey!" exclaimed Sorata with a broad grin. "Two visitors in the same week!" Yuzuriha returned the grin with a sparkling smile of her own. "Inuki and I thought you'd be lonely," she confided. "We've been visiting everybody so we don't all get out of touch." The dog spirit barked in agreement, and whuffled the hand Sorata held out for it. "That's really cool of you. C'mon in, and I'll start some tea." "I brought Pocky," the girl said, bouncing into the shrine, Inuki close at her heels. "And I got some ice cream, even though it's kind of cold out." "Great," Sorata returned. "We'll have a party." They busied themselves setting up, Yuzuriha chattering about school and her visits to the other Seals, and then settled down to tea and snacks. "So," Sorata said, nibbling one of the chocolate-covered biscuits that Yuzuriha had provided. "You said you've been visiting people. Have you seen Arashi?" "Yeah. We visited her just the other day. She's doing okay." "She miss me?" "I don't think....Inuki, what's wrong?" The dog spirit had risen from its spot by Yuzuriha's side and now stood in front of the window. A low growl emerged from Inuki's throat, and its hackles were up. "Hey, Yuzu-chan," Sorata said, following her over to the window. "What's with the beastie?" "Something's wrong," the girl said anxiously, one hand absently caressing the dog's head. "I can feel it too. It's the wind. There's something...not natural...about it." Sorata frowned. Outside the shrine, trees were thrashing about in a sharp, ferocious windstorm that seemed to change direction every second. The sky, which only minutes earlier had been the brilliant blue of a clear autumn day, was now scarred over wit h dark, ragged clouds. "You're right," he said, scowling up at the sky. "This isn't natural." Suddenly, his eyes snapped wide. "Aoki-san!" Yuzuriha blinked. "You think _he's_ doing this?" "Yeah. Looks to me like he's lost control. And I don't even wanna _think_ about what _that_ means." Muttering curses under his breath, the monk grabbed his jacket, threw it on, and took Yuzuriha by the hand. "C'mon. We gotta find Dad." The wind nearly tore the shrine's door off its hinges, and it was all the two Dragons of Heaven could do to keep from being flattened and blown away like a pair of fallen leaves. "We'll have to walk," Sorata shouted over the howling wind. "Ain't no way we can building-hop through this." "Where are we going?" "His apartment. We'll look there first, then try his office if he's not home." The storm grew steadily worse as Sorata and Yuzuriha struggled along. Only Inuki was able to withstand it, seemingly unaffected by the gale-force winds buffetting them. Yuzuriha kept a tight grip on Inuki's fur, and Sorata held her other wrist. Severa l times they were nearly thrown to the ground, either by a sudden shift in the wind, or by one of the tree branches, umbrellas, or other pieces of debris liberated by the storm. "Look!" Yuzuriha pointed. The sky was completely blotted out now, and the boiling clouds had a lurid greenish cast to them. Sorata followed the line of Yuzuriha's finger, and paled -- a section of cloud was dropping rapidly into a cone-shaped funnel. He cursed again, and pressed on against the wind, bent nearly double. The first tornado touched down, then a second. There were four of them writhing their way through Tokyo by the time the two Dragons reached Seiichirou's apartment. They burst inside, scrambled up the stairs, and raced through the open inside door. "Ohmygod," Sorata gasped, trying to recover his breath. The Wind-master lay unmoving on the floor, one arm flung over the body of what must once have been a very beautiful woman. "Is he...dead?" Yuzuriha whispered, a hand flying up to her mouth. "Dunno. You go check; I'd better put up a kekkai." The young monk concentrated, closing his eyes and forcing his breath back to a normal rate. After a brief space, a tiny glowing cube appeared in Sorata's hand, and grew until it contained the building and the surrounding area inside its golden walls. For one terrible moment the kekkai quivered under the onslaught of uncontrolled wind-magic, but it held. Outside the shield, the wind abruptly dropped away to nothing and the tornados unraveled and vani shed; inside it, the trapped winds battered the building with redoubled fury. "He's okay," Yuzuriha reported. "He's just passed out. But the lady's dead." The girl bit her lip. "That's his wife, isn't it." "Yeah." Sorata blinked, hard. "Yeah, I think it was." Then everything began to happen very quickly. The first thing Seiichirou became aware of was the sound of footsteps. Then a confused jumble of noise that eventually separated into voices. Familiar voices, pulling him out of the hazy darkness and back to the waking world. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. There was Shimako, curled up beside him. Kneeling nearby was Yuzu-chan, looking scared and windblown, and her dog. Seiichirou raised himself to a sitting position, resettling his glasses. There by the door was Sora-chan, his short black hair sticking up wildly around his face. More footsteps, behind him this time. Puzzled, Seiichirou turned. A small, slim figure was approaching him. Pale hair, perfectly carved features, and in its hands, a white cloth whose purity was marred with fresh and drying bloodstains. Large, brilliant eyes regarded him with a curiously hesitant expression, as though the figure were trying to decide whether or not to speak. Nataku, one of the Dragons of Earth. Suddenly, the events of the day came roaring back. His lips thinned and tightened into a hard, straight line, and the warm hazel eyes froze with rage. _"YOU!"_ Seiichirou snarled. Outside, the wind's voice rose from a howl to a shriek. "Get back, Yuza-chan!" Sorata shouted. "But..." the girl protested, even as the monk stepped forward, took her by the arm, and dragged her back into the doorway. "This isn't our fight," he said, his voice harsh with suppressed tears. Nataku stumbled backward, confused and frightened. This was supposed to have been an easy task, and now it was all unravelling. First there had been the difficulty with the child, and now this: Seiichirou Aoki, the mild-mannered editor, the weak link, had exploded to his feet and was striding toward Nataku, his hands clenched into fists and murder in his eyes. Contained and controlled now, the wind swirled around the building, creating a vortex. One by one, the windows exploded, spraying the apartment floors with shattered glass. Nataku raised its cloth in a frantic attempt to defend itself, but the wind tha t came screaming in caught the cloth and whipped it out of any shape the bioroid tried to form. At last, Nataku abandoned the thought of fighting. Securing the cloth around its waist, it climbed up onto the nearest windowsill, ignoring the shards of glass that bit into its flesh, and leapt down. Its landing was not graceful -- a gust of wind caught Nataku midflight, and slammed it against a tree, which promptly uprooted and came within an inch of pinning the bioroid beneath it. Nataku rolled away from the fallen tree and pulled itself upright, waiting for Seiichirou to follow and continue the assault. Seiichirou did not follow. He did not need to. Standing firm and strong in the face of the storm, Seiichirou closed his eyes, focused. He brought his hands together and made a small, tight gesture. Nataku raised its cloth again, this time hoping only to shield itself. But the first wave of wind-razors caught the bloodstained cloth and whipped it into useless shreds. Nobody in the apartment moved. Its work completed, the vortex spun down and died. Silence, thick and stifling as a quilt on a hot summer night, settled over the rooms. At last Sorata could stand it no longer. Broken glass crunching under his feet, he strode across the room to the window, before which Seiichirou stood tall and straight and perfectly still. "Aoki-san," he began, resting a hand on the older man's sleeve. Seiichirou turned. In one swift movement, he jerked his arm free and slammed his fist into Sorata's jaw. The monk staggered backwards, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "You _hit_ me!" he cried accusingly. Then, in an entirely different tone: "Yuzu-chan! Get down!" Sorata managed to hurl himself behind a chair barely in time to avoid the wind-razors that came whistling his way. Yuzuriha screamed, and ducked behind the sofa. Sorata peered over the edge of his chair. One of the wind-razors had knicked his face; absently, he brushed away blood as he stared incredulously at the older Seal. This man was nobody Sorata recognized -- those cold, flinty eyes belonged to a stranger, even behind Seiichirou's familiar glasses. Gritting his teeth, Sorata pushed aside the chair. He strode up to Seiichirou, and before the older man could react, the monk raised a hand and cracked him hard across the face. "Snap out of it, Dad!" he shouted. Seiichiro scowled down at Sorata, his face distorted with rage. He drew back to strike again. And then... ...something seemed to shift in his face, to settle back into place. The blood-lust drained out of his eyes. And was replaced, even more terrifyingly, by nothing at all. * * * * * Outside on the streets, people picked themselves and their belongings up. They stared in bewilderment at the torn and uprooted trees, the downed telephone and electric wires that criscrossed the streets causing immense traffic snarl-ups. It had all hap pened so fast, springing up out of nowhere and vanishing in the same sudden and mysterious fashion. Shaking their heads and muttering darkly, they picked through an astonishing volume and assortment of flotsam, piecing back together the lives so abruptly blown asunder. Inside the Imonoyama Mansion, Sorata looked at the five faces staring up at him, and took a deep breath to calm himself. He wasn't enjoying this, but something had to be done. Seiichirou hadn't spoken a word the whole trip here, had simply moved where and when they prompted him, staring straight ahead with those horrible, empty eyes. Yuzuriha had tried in vain to draw him out with her chatter; Sorata had done no better. Even Subaru had been unable to help -- after making the jump into Seiichirou's he art, the onmyouji was tight-lipped and grim for hours, saying only that he could do nothing. So now they sat in a circle in the luxurious chamber. Six bright stars shining together, and one whose light guttered, burning dangerously low. "Okay," Sorata began. He glared around the circle. "You all know what happened." Nods all around. "Now, listen up. In a lot of ways, Aoki-san is the best of us. Okay, so maybe he's not the smartest, or the cutest, or the strongest....Maybe he ain' t the pivot around which the whole damn universe revolves." His black glare stabbed at Kamui, who turned away. "But that's not what's important here. Aoki-san is everything we're fighting to preserve the world for in the first place -- people who are friendly and generous and decent to everyone, for no reason except that it's right." He paused, for effect and to let his words sink in. "And let me tell you this: if we let them break that decent spirit; and even worse, if we let them turn him into one of _them,_ then it _does not matter_ what happens in that last battle." He stabbed a finger at the air for emphasis. "If we let them break Aoki-san, then no matter what happens in the end... "...we've already lost." There was a long silence. Each of the five Dragons of Heaven looked sober and thoughtful, and Sorata was satisfied that he'd made his point. "So," he said at last. "Which one of you is going to help him?" He looked from one Seal to another: Yuzuriha, unwontedly serious as she sat curled against Inuki; Subaru in his white draperies, eyes cast regretfully down; grim-faced Arashi, twisting her hands in her lap; Karen, decently covered for once and looking th oughtful; and Kamui, who seemed far too young to be caught up in a mess like this, the raw anguish of his own wounds lying just behind his violet eyes. In a distant doorway, their hosts stood discreetly silhouetted, watching. For another long moment, nobody moved or spoke. Then, in a rustle of skirts, Karen stood up. "I think I might be able to help," she said. "He's in here." Cautiously, Karen pushed open the heavy door joining the room the Seals had been using to the one in which Seiichirou sat. It was a beautiful room, filled with every luxury imaginable -- there was even a fire burning in an elegant stone fireplace -- but the room's sole occupant took no notice of his surroundings. Seiichirou sat motionless on a soft armchair, hands resting on his knees, staring at nothing in particular. Karen smiled to herself. Reaching into her pocket, she rolled the small object it contained between her fingers. "Aoki-san," she said softly, gliding across the ankle-deep carpet and seating herself on the arm of his chair. For all the notice he took, she might have been a dust mote settling on his jacket. Briefly, Karen entertained the notion of curling up in his lap like a big red cat and seeing if that would get his attention. She giggled, but stifled the idea. "Are you comfortable in here?" she asked instead. "It's a little warm, so close to the fire. Would you like me to open a window?" "Do what you will." Karen had to strain to catch the words, spoken in a dull monotone utterly devoid of any emotion. "No," she said. "What do _you_ want?" The empty hazel eyes closed, then opened. "Nothing." Karen swallowed. This was going to be harder than she had thought. If he were desolate, she could comfort him; if he were angry, she could soothe him. But what could she do with nothing? She found herself wondering what Subaru had seen in the Wind-master's heart, and shivered. "Well, you can't have that," she said at last. "It's not an option now. If it ever was. We've got the biggest battle of all coming up, and we need you." "I won't fight again," Seiichirou said in the same emotionless voice. "There's no reason now." "No?" Karen tilted her fiery head. "What about Sorata and Yuzu-chan, who came to help you when Nataku attacked?" "I struck Sorata. I would have killed him." Was that a sliver of emotion in his voice? "I fought to protect my family. Now there's no reason for me to go on." Yes, there was definitely a trace of sorrow in Seiichirou's voice this time. It was a slender straw, but Karen grasped it. "It's dreadful, what happened to your wife and little girl. Such an awful thing to happen to a sweet man like you. It really isn't fair. But we all want to help you, and--" "Don't you see?" The anguish in his voice was unmistakeable now. He turned to face Karen, who for the first time noticed the stubble on his cheeks, the uncombed hair hanging lank in his face, the dark smudges under his eyes. Deep within her, something constricted painfully at the sight. "I couldn't save them! That was all I ever wanted to do, was keep the world safe for my family, and I couldn't even do that! What can I possibly do for the earth if I can't even protect my family?" Karen hopped down from the arm of the chair, and walked over to the wall separating Seiichirou's room from the one in which the Seals sat. "These walls are pretty thick," she remarked, tapping a hand against it. "I guess you couldn't hear what Sora-chan was saying about you, hmm?" Seiichirou turned away, as if ashamed of his momentary lapse into passion. "No." "Pity." She strolled back to the chair. "That means you have no idea just how important you are to us all." "How am _I_ important?" He sounded more weary than curious, but Karen answered anyway. "You are absolutely vital. Your kind and generous nature reminds us of what we're fighting to preserve. Maybe you aren't the flashiest or most powerful of us, but yours is the quiet strength which holds us together and makes us more than just one bunch of musclebound idiots fighting another one. We've come to depend on that strength, and I don't think any of us even realized it before now." She hesitated, then went on. "I guess you could say you're our heart, Seiichirou-san." He looked up, startled out of his apathy. "Sora-chan used to call me 'Dad.' But I never realized..." "Each of us is in this battle for a reason," Karen said softly, moving closer to the chair. "Maybe it's true that everything you love is gone. But there are still people here who care for you and need you. You are not alone. We all grieve for your los s. And we can help you, if you'll let us." Seiichirou looked up at Karen, and the emptiness behind his eyes filled up with tears. Slowly, taking his weight on his wrists like a much older man, he stood up. "Why?" he said, his voice rough and trembling. "Why couldn't I save them? Why couldn't I protect my family? Oh..." And then the tears were spilling over and running down his neglected face, and he was sobbing as openly and unashamed as a child. Kar en took him into her arms and held him, his head bent against her shoulder, his body shaking with the sudden, fierce release. Gently she ran her fingers through his light brown hair, and her heart was singing with elation. It would be a long time before Seiichirou finished mourning. But at least he had let himself begin. At last, Seiichirou pulled back. "Now look what I've done," he said with a shaky laugh. "I've made a great wet stain on your pretty dress. You must hate me for ruining your clothing, Karen-san." It was his old voice, and when he took off his glasses to wipe them dry, she saw a touch of the old light in his eyes. "Not at all. In fact, I'll prove it." Karen reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small, cellophane-wrapped object. "Here, with my compliments." "It's the same candy," Karen said softly. His eyes widened. "From so long ago? Didn't you like it?" "I liked it very much. In fact, I liked it so much that I kept one piece. So I would remember." Seiichriou looked down at the candy again. When he turned his gaze back to Karen, an expression of understanding and wonder was dawning on his face. "You...?" he breathed, the word soft and intimate. "I think I've loved you ever since that day," she confirmed, looking away and flushing ever so slightly. Seiichirou said nothing. But he reached out, and with one gentle hand, he turned Karen's face back toward his own. Deep grief was still visible in his eyes, but he was smiling, and the smile was just as real as the sorrow. He drew her close, wrapped h er in his embrace. But then he hesitated, and his eyes clouded over. The memory of his lost wife and child rose up, and he felt himself begin to slide back into the old, paralyzing grief. _No,_ he told himself firmly. _Shimako, please forgive me. But there are people here who need me. _I must choose to live._ Hesitating no longer, he bent his head and pressed his lips to Karen's. His mouth tasted ever so faintly of salt. As his arms tightened around her, a new kind of fire swept over the ravaged landscape of his heart -- a fire that had nothing to do with Karen's physical powers. It neither destroyed life nor sustained it, but rather purified. And in the fire's wake a wind sprang up, fresh and keen, and blew all the ashes away. The End Next: Firestorm </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>