D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Oh, Dear. ❯ Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

 

Disclaimer: DN Angel does not belong to me.

 

Warnings: You still need them?

 

A/N: I'm sorry for not having updated earlier because of exams and university applications, so please forgive me for that. Thank you for getting up to here and I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

 

Dark laughed uneasily, patting the dog and sincerely hoping that it didn't suddenly start glowing or turn into Cujo. “He's a…friend's dog,” he finally said. “My friend brought him over because…uh, he's a little eccentric…and, um, he doesn't really listen to the rules.” The journalist inwardly cringed; six years of being a `cloak-and-dagger man' and he still couldn't tell a proper lie at the right time.

 

“Ah.” The doctor raised an eyebrow. “I'm afraid, Mr. Mousy, that dogs and pets are not allowed in the hospital, as there are some patients here who may not welcome the noise or—“ The journalist hastily cut him off.

 

“That's fine, Doctor, I promise he'll be gone as soon as my friend comes back tomorrow.”

 

The man frowned. “You intend to keep the animal in the hospital overnight? I would not recommend that to anyone, Mr. Mousy, especially not if they have suffered extensive injuries.” In spite of the doctor's strenuous objections, Dark somehow managed to convince the other to let the dog stay in the room, even going so far as to ask a passing nurse to help him feed and walk the animal in the hospital grounds later. She was more than happy to do so, much to the displeasure of the doctor. “Oh yes, Mr. Mousy,” the man said after examining him. “Your eyepatch.” He fished around in the pocket of his white coat and produced a small, white scrap of cloth with two elastic bands attached. “You will probably prefer to wear this when in public. Good night, Mr. Mousy.” With those frosty words he left, leaving Dark to stare at the eyepatch and wish that he'd never picked up the doll. However, he was not left alone with his thoughts for too long, as the dog suddenly jumped up and ate the piece of cloth in one bite.

 

Krad:

 

Krad stumbled out of the club, lip-locked with a very feisty brunette and in a pleasant daze. Slamming the other against the wall, he proceeded to happily ravish the man's throat, grinning as the other whined and pressed the blond closer. Caught up in pleasing his prey, he ignored the pulsing pendant at his chest and lost himself in pleasure for the next fifteen minutes. At about two-thirty in the morning, he decided to leave Daisuke to his own devices and return home. The redhead was probably soused enough to do something inappropriate by now, and even if he wasn't, there was surely someone who would catch his eye.

 

Satoshi:

 

He woke up every morning at three o'clock precisely, his body clock ringing the alarm for a trip to the bathroom. Tonight was no exception, and he staggered groggily towards the bathroom. Only, when he turned on the lights, the bathroom clearly wasn't empty. One brow rose in mild surprise as the familiar figure moved towards him. “I thought you preferred luxury travel? And a door?” he asked dryly. The other cocked his head to one side and thought for a moment.

 

“Well, yes, but I didn't think the guard would let me in wearing this.” A wide mouth curled in distaste as the man gestured at his admittedly scanty clothing. “And you know how much I hate being stared at.”

 

“You may as well…come in.” Satoshi stepped back and gestured for the other man to walk through the door. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to take care of, and we can talk in the morning.” The other man snickered and then blinked as the bathroom door swung shut in his face.

 

“I suppose I'll have to make do with the sofa,” the man sighed. “Really, you shouldn't treat your sensei like this!” He called back as he left the room. Catching sight of Satoshi's bed, he thought for a moment before smiling and climbing in. After all, he was sure that his one-time pupil wouldn't mind giving him a proper place to sleep.

 

Satoshi stared at the extra person in his already small bed and glared. How come he gets the bed? He thought irritably before heading to the guest room. Thank goodness he kept the guest bed made, or else it would mean more hassle looking for sheets and spare pillows. Sometimes, it really was best to be prepared, especially when you had an unpredictable master who could (and would) show up at any given time and expect a place to stay. The only thing he dreaded was the soon-to-come talk. He didn't get any more sleep that night, trying to think of the best way to present Dark's case to his sensei.

 

Daisuke:

 

The first thing he noted when he awoke was the throbbing in his head. What on earth happened? He wondered. He remembered being stuck in that hot, stuffy nightclub with a pervert trying to hit on him. And then…oh. Red eyes narrowed and he slowly shifted his head, looking around and trying to get his bearings. It was small and simply furnished, with a small window on one side of the wall. He blinked at the small night-table on the left of his head, surprised at such a sign of luxury. He shifted a little and was surprised to find that there was nothing tying him to the bed (or anywhere else for that matter), and that he apparently had free run of the room. He cautiously sat up and stared at the closed door of his room, debating on the merits of looking for a way out. Wobbling to his feet, he first carefully headed for the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, shaking his head vigorously to shake the clinging water droplets away.

 

“You're awake!”

 

Daisuke whirled around with his hands outstretched, ready to attack. However, he only saw a familiar face. Crimson eyes widened and the man hastily pulled back before he accidentally hurt someone. It had happened before. “Kantarou!”

 

“Hi!” The young man smiled happily and approached his colleague. “How are you feeling?” He chirped. Daisuke stared.

 

“Were you the one who…brought me here? Where's Haruka?” It was common knowledge that Kantarou did not work without the black-haired tengu somewhere nearby, but Daisuke could not so much as sense the other's presence.

 

The white-haired man smiled cheerily, but it seemed a little forced. For Ichinomiya Kantarou's smile to look forced, it meant that something was very wrong indeed. “Mmm…sort of. Not really. But it was all for a good cause!” He hastily added. “And Lord Kosuke's been dying to see you for a while now.” Catching the look on Daisuke's face, he quickly mended his previous statement. “Not that way. Come on-I'll take you to see him, okay?”

 

“Where's Haruka?” Daisuke asked, this time more forcefully than usual. He liked Kantarou well enough, but he hated being kept in the dark, and it didn't seem as though the `folklorist' was about to let him in on the secret. “Why all the secrecy?” Kantarou shook his head again, but his smile was smaller and his eyes were worried, so worried that for a moment Daisuke thought that there was something dangerous behind him.

 

He decided to wait out the storm in this room. After all, it wasn't as though he was completely and utterly defenseless; in fact, the glorious headache that should have been making itself known was starting to stir in his temples, and he was sure that anyone who tried to attack him at this time would find themselves in for a very nasty shock. “I'm not coming with you,” the redhead stated calmly. Ignoring the shocked look on his friend's face, he continued. “I'm tired, I have a headache, and I want to know what's going on.” Kantarou merely sighed and turned around, his priest's outfit swirling around as though it, too, were insulted.

 

“Fine,” the other said. `Stay here.” Daisuke's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 

“Hey, Kantarou,” he casually said. The other man turned around, smile firmly back in place. “For old times' sake-what was the prank you and I pulled on Tezuka-sensei in our first year as Fledglings, and why did we do it?”

 

Kantarou stared, red eyes troubled. “This-this isn't the time to be discussing pranks,” he coolly stated, unlike the cheery writer that Daisuke knew. “We should go now—“

 

“Hand of Judgement!” Before the other could react, a bolt of light flew through the air and crashed into the exorcist-cum-writer. His form grew brighter and brighter until there was a crash like thunder, and the man disappeared. Daisuke sighed at the oily black smoke that rose in plumes from the ground. Demon, he thought in annoyance. Looking around, he suddenly realized that his surroundings were…shifting. The walls shuddered, but didn't crack. The bed shimmered in and out of existence in its spot by the wall, the well-made night table somehow moved from its place beside the headboard to the foot of the bed. The redhead sighed and sat down, closing his eyes and reaching out for the source of the confusion.

 

Daisuke sensed a knotty black ball of energy at the centre of the magical activity. Reaching out with a red tendril of his own fire, he slowly poked it and recoiled in shock as pain traveled up his arms. He slowly reached out to beyond the ball of energy, desperately trying to see the runes which made up the barrier spell. But before he could quite see the strange symbols, the room dissolved and he felt himself falling away, plummeting downwards with no end in sight.

 

Next morning:

 

“Where's Daisuke?” Riku shrieked as she rampaged through the house, flinging the covers back on every bed including the guestroom, kicking the already-fragile bathroom door in whilst Risa was showering and flinging open every cupboard and closet door, as though she expected Daisuke to step out with dust in his hair. “Where is he? KRAD!” She burst into the golden-eyed man's room and shrieked in fury when she was that he was not alone. “For God's sake, wake up!” Snatching a pillow off the floor, she smacked the blond around the head repeatedly until he gave a groan and woke up.

 

“Whassamatta?” The brunette shifted and looked around, sitting up slowly and letting the blankets fall lower than they should have. Riku screamed and threw the large, feathery pillow at him, telling him to put some clothes on. The boy blinked blearily before he realized exactly where he was. Flushing bright red, he hastily hid under the sheets and watched the chaos unfold before him.

 

“KRAD! WHERE WERE YOU AND DAISUKE LAST NIGHT?” At the bewildered and resentfully hungover look that Krad gave her, Riku only raised her voice. The brunette didn't believe that anyone could-or would-shout that loudly and still get louder. “DON'T GIVE ME THAT LOOK!” She hollered. “I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE YOU TWO WENT LAST NIGHT, AND DON'T YOU DENY IT!” The Guardian wondered whether he would make it out of this ordeal with his hearing intact and suddenly the night's events came crashing down on his head. Through the cacophony of noise he could only make out the words `guy', `Daisuke' and `where'. Putting the puzzle together, he grinned at the thought of his redheaded partner waking up in a stranger's room. He could just imagine the fuss that the younger Guardian would make. Nevertheless, his head hurt far too much to laugh about anything, and he knew that if he didn't get into the shower soon, he could very well end up late for class. However, as soon as he crawled out of bed, Riku's screeching abruptly stopped, the brunette in his bed giggled and a cool breeze made its way across some very sensitive parts. “Oh my GOD!” Riku squalled. “Put some clothes on, for the love of all that's good and holy!” Krad whipped his blanket off the bed, uncaring of his partner, and stumbled towards the bathroom. A minute later, Risa screamed and the brunette in the bed wondered whether the house was always like this.

 

Krad somehow managed to prevent Risa from doing any further damage to his eardrums-one screaming twin was bad enough, thanks-and crawled into the shower, desperately wishing that he'd asked her to make a banana milkshake for him before she left the bathroom. Then again, perhaps not; the heavens alone knew what Risa could do to an innocent, normally indestructibly milkshake. Due to his fragile state of mind, Daisuke did not even enter his thoughts until late afternoon. The blond did not visit Dark that day, although he might have been wiser to do so; the journalist had an extraordinary number of recipes for hangover cures tucked away in his brain.

 

Satoshi:

 

The blue-haired man looked from the glass of water in his hand to his still-sleeping sensei, anticipating the moment of torture his sensei would go through as soon as the freezing liquid drenched his head and pillow. Smiling serenely, he tipped the glass, making sure that the stream of water hit its target. There was no point in wasting perfectly good liquid after all, was there?

 

True to form, his sensei sprang up, horror written on his features as a pair of pointed, red ears tipped with black sprouted from his auburn hair and a large, bushy tail began to grow. Before long, there was nothing to suggest that there had ever been a person in the room; a red-and-black fox sat on the wet bed instead.

 

“Why did you do that?” The fox mildly inquired, its nose twitching and sky-blue eyes fixed on Satoshi.

 

“You weren't waking up, sensei,” Satoshi replied, equally coolly. “And besides, this is urgent.” The fox's ears pricked up and bright eyes turned towards the artist. “I see I have your attention now.”

 

The animal stared. “Oh, so you have been keeping your eyes and ears open,” he chuckled. “And here I was, thinking that you needed to be reminded of your…job here.”

 

“Dark Mousy.”

 

Azure eyes crinkled in delight. “The one who disappeared off the radar a year ago?”

 

“The very same.”

 

A sudden puff of smoke arose from the bed and Satoshi sighed, looking at his now-undressed, human sensei. “Put some clothes on. I'll make breakfast.”

 

“Good grief, no!” His sensei practically leapt off the bed. “I'll die if I have to eat your idea of breakfast! I'll cook and you just…just talk, all right?”

 

Takeshi:

 

Sleepy brown eyes blinked up at the tastefully decorated ceiling. He wasn't in his room-forget that, he wasn't in his own house! Where was he? Takeshi slowly sat up and looked around, shifting uncomfortably as a sliver of pain shuddered up his lower back. What was I doing last night? Then he remembered, and he turned to see his boss, Takegawa-san, sleeping peacefully next to him. Oh, f-ck.

 

He'd been having dinner with the man, he remembered. In a very fancy hotel, where the waiters had raised an eyebrow at his dusty suit and then held their tongues upon seeing his boss. Just how much did the newspapers make, anyway? Because if Takegawa-san was coming here often enough for the staff to recognize him, either the writers were getting ripped off or the other came from money. Old money.

 

It hadn't gone too badly, Takeshi reflected. He hadn't spilt the champagne although his hands were shaking so badly that he was afraid of doing so. His boss merely smiled at him all throughout dinner, asking questions about his personal life. In fact, the guy wasn't so bad once he didn't talk shop, and by his third glass of wine, the journalist was telling his boss about Sally the Mustang, the dog he and Dark had found, and their odd relationship. Then…what had happened? The other man had leaned forward, he'd felt lightheaded and slightly queasy, and from there on his mind went blank.

 

The next thing he knew, he was back at home, sleeping on his bed and still fully dressed. He could not remember what had happened after Takegawa-san had leaned in after that sixth glass of wine, and the only thing he could think of was how the older man had raised an eyebrow and asked about his day. Strangely enough, he couldn't remember what he'd said afterwards. It was as though anything that had happened after the other man's question about his day had never occurred. He frowned at the slight throb at his temples; surely he hadn't had that much wine?

 

Daisuke:

 

Daisuke looked at the eternal darkness around him and thought for a moment before slowly standing up. He half-expected the floor to give way underneath his weight at any moment, but he remained upright. It was rather odd, he thought as he looked down at his jeans and sneakers. Sort of like standing in mid-air but not really.

 

Out of nowhere, a dainty white and purple laced parasol fluttered down and landed just in front of him. Daisuke cocked his head to one side, lost in thought. Then a plump, well-dressed figure appeared in front of him. She looked normal enough from the shoes upwards, although her clothes were clearly made for the Victorian era if his memory served him correctly. A pair of smart, silver-buckled black shoes polished until they gleamed in the dull light of the…place he was in, a dress made of what looked like mauve velvet edged with delicate white lace at the throat, sleeves and hem, and a large purple hat with a black satin ribbon on the figure's head. However, there was one unsettling thing about the person; she wore a porcelain mask, similar to the ones he'd seen in Venice during Mardi Gras. Then again, he was sure that the Venetian masks had eyeholes; this mask was of a face complete with blue, blue eyes. It was the face of Dark's doll.

 

“I'm Miranda.” The voice was high-pitched, like that of a young girl's, but there was a mechanical undertone to the sound, like that of a robot's voice. It was, Daisuke thought, what the cool feminine voice that announced the stops on the train would sound like if it were ten years younger.

 

“Um-Daisuke,” The redhead offered. He saw no reason to withhold any information from this…person, seeing as she probably already knew a lot about him.

 

“Will you play with me, Daisuke?”

 

The Guardian swallowed, feeling his pendant burn against his throat. “I-I don't understand,” he offered weakly.

 

The perfect, coral lips curved upwards in a small, eerie smile. “You don't understand the rules of Sharan Dovrinya?” Daisuke stared, still bewildered. “Then I will teach you!” The Guardian felt a shudder of thunder magic course through his blood, shooting through his chest. He gasped as a shower of his own blood splattered the darkness and the doll, crimson eyes widening as the droplets began to glow. The doll raised her finger and began to trace an intricate sign in the air, that still, serene smile remaining on her face even as he began to scream.

 

Dark:

 

He had never been much of a morning person, preferring to lie in bed until the last possible moment. However, the cold, wet nose poking into his ear did nothing to help him achieve that goal. He grunted and turned to face the window, only to wince at the sunlight that was shining into the room. He turned and glared at the large dog resting next to him. “Somehow, I didn't see this part of having a dog,” he grumpily informed the animal, which merely barked and ran to the door. The journalist blinked and looked around, resisting the urge to scratch his freshly healed left eye, or even just rub the sleep away. The dog barked again and started to scratch at the dor, as though it wanted to be let out. The purple haired man sighed and carefully got out of bed, being careful not to dislodge any of the tubes attached to his body and dragging the monitor along with him.

 

Dark decided to find some food for his pet, simply because none of the nurses appeared to have the time to feed an animal as well as the rest of the patients. Judging from the dog's whines, he had the right idea, especially when the animal tried to knock a bag of cookies out of his hand. He wondered how Satoshi was doing, since he hadn't seen the other man for a while now. Well; perhaps he was busy with work. He only hoped that Daisuke came around sometime, since it'd be nice to talk to someone other than Satoshi, Krad or the dog. He frowned and rubbed his hands together; they seemed to be itching an awful lot these days. And just why were his fingertips burning?

 

Satoshi:

 

He winced as his sensei knocked over his third glass of orange juice, splattering the pristine white tablecloth once more. I'd forgotten how clumsy he is, the man thought irritably. He hated cleaning up, hence the care he took with his things, the logic being that if he didn't make a mess, he wouldn't have to clean anything up. Now, though, his sensei was ruining everything. The blue-haired man cringed inwardly at the thought of having to clean the entire apartment from top to bottom over the weekend, or whenever the man left.

 

“Already thinking of my departure, my dear pupil?” Cornflower blue eyes twinkled at him from over the rim of the glass.

 

“I'm hoping you won't destroy the house before you leave,” The other replied easily.

 

“Ah. Well, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you then. Don't worry,” the man smirked, “I'll be gentle.” Satoshi didn't bother replying. “But,” The other continued, “I really do need to see your friend-Dark Mousy, is it?” Satoshi paused for a moment and then nodded slowly. His sensei must have sensed some uncertainty, for he looked up from his plate of eggs and toast and frowned, those sky-blue eyes filled with suspicion. “You haven't forgotten our job, have you?” Satoshi shook his head sullenly. “Good.” The fox gave him an open, friendly smile, the same one that had earned him the nickname of the Dashing Highwayman. “I don't relish the task of having to remind just what we're trying to accomplish here.”

 

Krad:

 

“Mr. Hikari, would you care to tell me just what you are doing back there?” Tousled blond hair shifted for a moment before its owner looked up. His face was haggard, and his normally sharp golden eyes were slightly glazed and sleepy. In short, he was the very picture of a hung-over student.

 

Krad was slowly drifting off to sleep as the professor droned on about how to distinguish pottery from the Ming and Song dynasties, and their characteristics. However, his rest was short lived when the man dared to interrupt his sleep. If he'd been in a better mood, he'd have felt sorry for the poor man, really. He was just trying to do his job. Unfortunately, Krad was not in a forgiving mood today, and his already precarious temper, fuelled by a hangover, strained against its leash. The question gave him a jab and before even he realized what was going on, his hands were around the teacher's neck and the man's face was turning blue. Shouts and screams filled the air, whilst two students tried to get the other to loosen his grip. Krad hastily let go and allowed the students to drag him away, all the while staring at his hands. That's never happened before, he thought numbly.

 

Fifteen minutes later:

 

After what seemed like a lot of shouting and yelling, Krad found himself staring at the front door to his shared apartment with Daisuke and the girls. In his hand, he clutched a note with the time for an appointment with the school doctor for a psych evaluation. The golden-eyed man looked up and sighed. Well, at least his headache was gone.

 

He opened the door and entered, only to find the place in a mess. It wasn't the mess created by four young people living together in the same house, but a mess that showed that the apartment had been ransacked. Books had been torn off the shelves, the television teetered on the edge of its console and two of the doorknobs appeared to have been brutally wrenched off. Krad hastily made his way to his room, hoping that whoever had entered was a mere burglar, and not something-or someone-else.

 

Racing to the closet in his room, he flung the doors open and stared in horror at the mess on the floor. Damn, he groaned inwardly as he saw a black heap of tattered cloth. That Armani jacket cost my soul! Crouching down, he pushed an assortment of shoes and socks to the side, breathing out a sigh of relief as he saw the old Nike shoebox lying at the back. Pulling it towards him, he waved a hand over the container and closed his eyes, muttering the unlocking code under his breath. The cardboard box shuddered in his hand and slowly turned into a wooden chest with a heavy, flame-coloured lock holding it closed. The lock disappeared at a touch of his fingertips and the man felt a sense of hope come over him. Perhaps their little uninvited guest was just a petty burglar after all. He slowly opened the box and sifted through its contents, breathing out a sigh of relief when he found that nothing was missing. Daisuke should probably check his, too, the blond thought. Wherever he keeps it.

 

Another thought followed on the heels of the first. Speaking of which, Krad thought, where is Daisuke? I haven't seen him all morning. He frowned a little harder before deciding to just wait until classes were certainly over for the day. After all, it wasn't as though he was the other's babysitter; he was the furthest thing from it. He began to pick up the things in his room, determined to clean the place up before everyone came home and gave him hell for not doing it. Suddenly he felt a breeze across the back of his neck, and he knew that he was not alone.

 

Dark:

 

He smiled hopefully at the doctor, determined to be polite and trying to make up for his irritated outburst the day before. “So, doctor…” he began carefully, trying to think of the best way to ask when he could leave.

 

“Yes, Mr. Mousy, you may leave today. You're fit as a fiddle, it seems.” Dark smiled and nodded, practically bouncing with anticipation. He hated staying still and lying in bed, waiting to get better.

 

“Thank you, sensei!” Dark rolled out of the bed as soon as the man had finished checking his vitals and injuries-well, scars actually, and made a run for the white closet. The dog, still sitting at the foot of the bed, whined whilst the journalist dressed, jumping up only when the other had finished packing and walked out the door of the hospital room for the last time.

 

He returned to his apartment in no time at all, flinging open the door and looking around the familiar living room with a sigh of relief. The dog, on the other hand, spent a little more time at the front door, sniffing around the shoe cabinet and paying particular attention to the umbrella stand. Dark grinned and walked into the bathroom, determined to have a comfortable shower in the privacy of his own flat. As he undressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stared at his missing eye and starkly smooth skin. It was as though everything but his eye had healed overnight. He remembered the stack of pamphlets the hospital had given him detailing problems which could come with losing an eye, but so far he hadn't had to go down any stairs or fight anyone, which was probably a good thing. Nevertheless, he never knew when one of his more boisterous neighbours would hold another beer party or beat on some woman or another, leading to noises and confrontations like the one he'd had a week ago after his arm had been scorched. I wonder how Daisuke and Krad are doing? He idly thought before shaking his head. No doubt they were wrapped up in their own case and university work, and to call them would be probably seen as unwelcome interference. Nevertheless, this had never stopped him; in his university days, he was notorious for interfering with others' study schedules during exam period.

 

He spent the rest of the day wandering around town and walking his new dog. “Dark!” It was Shinya, a friend from high school who had moved into the area only a few months ago. Dark knew that he was supposedly working for an IT firm, but he was slightly hazy on the details.

 

“Shinya, great to see you!” He grinned at the man, waiting for the other to catch up. “How are you doing, haven't seen you around in ages!” The bespectacled man smiled.

 

“Good as ever. Ayako's going to have her third child this year.” He glowed with pride. “It's going to be a healthy boy,” he happily declared. Dark smiled, although he'd personally never really worked very well with young children. They tended to scream too much for him to tolerate them.

 

“Congratulations,” he told the other man. “How are your other kids doing?” Shinya smiled.

 

“Just fine Dark, just fine. They're all so big now; you should really drop by and see them sometime!” Before the journalist could say anything else, the redheaded Shinya looked closely at him. “I don't remember you having an eyepatch,” he commented.

 

Dark shifted uncomfortably. “Haha, yes, of course,” he said, playing for time. “Well, things change…”

 

Brown eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you sure you're all right?” The man demanded. Dark smiled ruefully, remembering just how persistent the other could be when he wanted.

 

“Yes, of course I'm fine,” he commented lightly. “It doesn't feel strange at all.” The lamp post abruptly loomed in front of him at an alarming rate and Dark stepped back, blinking once and looking, only to find his dog straining at its makeshift leash and the lamp post suddenly seeming much further away. “Sorry,” he laughed, staggering slightly and leaning heavily on the redhead for support. “I suppose these eye problems are playing up a little. But the doctor says I'll probably be fine in a couple of weeks, so—“

 

Shinya was staring. “What did you do, Dark?” He asked worriedly. “How on earth would you lose an eye?” The journalist shrugged, hoping that his dog would choose to find something interesting and run after it. Thankfully, a butterfly fluttered in front of the creature's nose, causing the redhead to yelp and jump at least a foot into the air, and the dog to go haring after the insect. “Bye Shinya, nice talking to you!” Dark yelled back as he followed his pet. Thank heavens, he thought, although he was really going to have to think of a plausible excuse to offer his office when he returned to work. After all, losing an eye was a rather noticeable thing, especially when you relied on the things for a living.

 

Takeshi:

 

He was puttering around the house aimlessly, mind whirling with the facts he'd learned from accidentally overhearing the conversation in Dark's room yesterday, desperately trying to recall what he'd said in the restaurant with Takegawa. However, like some stubbornly locked safety deposit box, he could not for the life of him remember anything about his conversation with his boss after that really excellent lobster dish.

 

Scowling at the insistent throbbing in his head, the journalist sighed and decided to make the best of his day off. He wondered why Takegawa-san had suddenly decided to single him out. After all, he was sure that he did just as little work as Dark did, so there was no reason to deal with one but not the other. Takeshi glared at the wall, swallowing hard as remembered what he'd heard whilst standing outside Dark's hospital door. He didn't know what to do next; he knew that it was illogical to dislike someone simply because they shared a job-well, not even job, more like an ex-job-with the person who just happened to be responsible for your father's honourable funeral. Nevertheless, all he could think of was screaming at the man for keeping such a large secret from him. How was it that Satoshi, the Ice Prince, got to hear all of Dark's secrets? Since when had they been such close friends, anyway? Takeshi scowled, feeling just a little hurt that the other didn't trust him enough to tell him.

 

He had no idea how lucky he had been.

 

Takegawa:

 

Shinichiro Takegawa gulped as he genuflected on the ground of his own floor, fearing for his life and hating himself for it. “I take it all went well?” Shinichiro nodded frantically, ignoring the slight discomfort of his reading glasses digging into his face. “Show me the doll.” The dark-haired man didn't move, afraid that standing without permission would result in agony. There was a pause and his master inhaled sharply. “Ah, yes. You may rise.”

 

He scrambled to his feet and rushed to the solid, cherry wood desk at the other end of the room. From a secret drawer, he drew out a small vial containing three strands of dark brown hair. Dashing back to his master, he knelt once more and proffered the tiny container, not daring to say a word. His master smiled coldly. “Is this it?” The other nodded fervently. “Good work.” A hand patted his head, almost like a master rewarding his dog. Takegawa swallowed hard before deciding to speak. It appeared that the Master was in a good mood tonight.

 

“Master?” His voice trembled slightly. Storm-grey eyes looked down at him in mild surprise, as though a chair had spoken.

 

“Yes?” Takegawa could not see the amusement that began to fill the other's eyes, nor the soft smile that played at the corner of the other man's thin lips.

 

“You promised—“

 

A soft sigh. Takegawa trembled as the intricately worked hem in front of his nose swayed slightly, indicating that his Master was thinking. “Yes, I am well aware of my promise. You asked for greatness, did you not?” The man nodded hard. “Hm…greatness above all others, was it?” Another frightened nod. The fact that the master was talking so much tonight did not bode well. After all, the Magician was hardly one to trifle over wording like a lawyer. “Of course. I remember that well. Rise, Shinichiro.” He tried to stand, but found that he could not. “Oh? You cannot stand?” The voice sighed. “Come with me, then. Look into the mirror, over there. It's all right. You can crawl.” His Master's voice was deceptively soothing, and for a moment Takegawa thought that he would see his kingdom in the mirror. After all, Illusion was one of the man's greatest talents.

 

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Instead of a moderately handsome man dressed in formal evening wear, he saw a Canis. However, this Canis had an ornate golden collar around its neck. Swirling, sinous blue symbols covered its body, and Takegawa shook his head, unable to do anything but stare in horror as the Canis, too, shook its head. He glanced at the reflection of his Master's smiling face and froze in horror, too frightened to say anything. A hand petted his head once more, and scratched behind his ears. To his dismay and shock, Shinichiro Takegawa felt a sense of satisfaction come over him. “You are the greatest, Shinichiro.” That smooth voice flowed over his senses. “You are now the greatest of my dearest creations-the Canis.” The ex-editor could only tremble in fright. “It is a great honour, you know. Most people would die for this opportunity. Come now, we should go home.” A hand tugged at his ornate leash, and Shinichiro knew that he would no longer be human again. “Oh, Shinichiro,” the voice said above him, “don't worry. If you're very, very good, I may just let you walk on two feet again.”

 

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