D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Oh, Dear. ❯ Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

 

Disclaimer: I don't own DN Angel.

 

Warnings: I don't think they're necessary any more, since you've come this far without leaving.

 

I will not put my feet up on the desk.

 

Krad sighed as the counselor looked him over, pale eyes almost timid and his back slightly hunched over, like a child who had spent his years covering his work from other cheaters in class.

 

“Mr. Hikari, why are you here?”

 

“Don't call me Mr. Hikari - I'm Krad.”

 

There was an awkward pause as the counselor stared once more. Then he licked his lips nervously and scribbled something down on the sheet of paper in front of him. “Very well, Krad. Why are you here?”

 

Well, I don't know. “I was told I needed to…resolve some issues.” To his surprise, the other man looked up and smiled slightly.

 

“I would hardly call the reasons for your actions `issues', Krad. Why do you think you're here?”

 

Screw it, my feet are so going on the desk.

 

He staggered out of the office an hour later, already thinking of ways to torture the morons who had given the school counselor his degree in Psychology. Snarling and growling to himself, he went home, Daisuke not even crossing his thoughts once. The redhead had a habit of disappearing off to unknown places on his own, and he was a big boy now. He was sure that the younger Guardian was fully capable of taking care of himself.

 

Dark:

 

It was a lot harder to navigate the steps than he'd originally thought. Every time he even so much as looked at them, they seemed to merge into the ground until he could no longer tell which parts were raised and which parts were not. He could not even begin to guess where the steps began and where they ended. The journalist growled and cursed the doll quietly under his breath, fervently wishing he'd never kept the thing.

 

After carefully navigating the steps leading down to the main lobby, he sighed in relief and looked around once more, checking for any signs of the unsavoury characters that tended to wander into the building now and again. It wouldn't do to be mugged after losing an eye, now, would it?

 

His dog was back in the apartment and as Dark made his way down to the grocery store, he found himself wishing for the company. Or perhaps not; the creature had woken him and the rest of the floor up by howling at the alley cats which habitually congregated outside the flats at midnight, only pausing for breath. Needless to say, the cats disappeared and Dark had had to immediately come up with a host of creative excuses that would satisfy his very angry neighbours. He couldn't help but think that some of them deserved it though; those old Chinese spinsters really needed to learn just how noisy mahjong games at midnight could be.

 

On the way back, Dark ran through a list of possible excuses explaining his missing eye. It was a difficult handicap to hide, to say the least. He vaguely wondered what the two Guardians would have said; he was sure they had their own way of evading uncomfortable questions. Humming as he arrived in the lobby and checked his mailbox, he noticed a letter bearing the official stamp of the newspaper he worked for, and his heart sank.

 

Dark sat in his own apartment, stunned by how quickly the news team had decided to drop him. Perhaps it's to avoid any hassles with HR, he thought gloomily. The newspaper hadn't been doing as well as it could have been, and money was tight. What better way to cut back than on firing old employees? He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the television and almost laughed out loud at the sight. A one-eyed man with wild hair stared back at him. Look at me, he thought. I'm a Cyclops, almost thirty and now unemployed, still living in a crappy apartment with a dog that no one wants. But what he didn't know was that had Daisuke or Krad been next to him, they would have backed away from the bolts of red and purple flying in jagged spikes from his aura.

 

Satoshi:

 

“Quit your job.”

 

Satoshi stared. “What?” He could hardly believe his ears.

 

“You heard me, boy. Quit your job.”

 

“But—“

 

“You're there to keep an eye on Dark Mousy, not actually work. There's no point staying if he's already been fired, is there? Offer to find a job with him; I'm sure there are plenty of TV stations that would love to have an attractive pair of potential anchors join. What about Link Networks?”

 

Satoshi didn't trust his sensei at all-not one little bit. “Sensei, there are no openings at LN. If there were, I'd know.” The redhead grinned and turned around, his teeth showing in a smile that promised danger.

 

“There are now.” At the look of resistance on his pupil's face, the man simply tossed him the cordless phone. “Go on,” he encouraged the younger man, smiling all the while. “Call Link Networks. Ask for Saionji.”

 

Daisuke:

 

“There's no point in fighting.” The doll was still floating in front of him as he howled to the heavens, praying for a respite or even death. Anything was better than this searing pain that threatened to cook his bones and boil his blood. “You wouldn't be able to get out anyway, even if you could unlock the spell.”

 

“Why…why-why am I…here?” Daisuke wheezed, throwing his head back to scream as the pain rolled into him again.

 

The doll smiled. “Leave our Master alone.” Daisuke wheezed and gasped in his prison, squeezing his eyes shut as a trickle of blood made its way down his forehead, coming precariously close to his eye. He wanted so badly to slip into the darkness that beckoned him but couldn't, only able to squirm weakly in his prison. He wanted to ask who this `Master' was, but couldn't find the strength to do so. Still, he had to try. With this thought in mind, he forced his dry, cracked lips to open and push out his question.

 

“Who…Master…?” The puppet merely shook her head and left, letting the dark tendrils of magick crawl over his skin and sink in. The student's head lolled back limply immediately, his body hanging slackly in the rope. The girl looked at him once more, eerie blue eyes glinting in the dim glow of Sharan Dovrinya.

 

“You know,” she murmured to the unconscious man, “it's really a pity that you're a Guardian. You might actually help us seal a decisive victory.”

 

Daisuke hung there in darkness, for how long he didn't know. He floated somewhere in the realms of sleep, his mind drifting hazily from one topic to another. Sometimes he thought about what he'd been sent to Azumano to do, other times he found himself running through the gardens as a child again, shouting and pretending to fight demons just like real Guardians did. People wandered through his mind; Risa giggling over a new skirt, Riku trying out her new skateboard at the park, Satoshi teaching him Chemistry and working on his newspaper comic strip at the same time, Krad mumbling swear words when he fell into a pigsty during their time in the English countryside and sitting with Dark, watching `Shaolin Soccer'. Unbeknownst to him, the doll was still watching him, worry tinging her glassy eyes for a moment before she vanished for a moment, only to return with another creature, one that would have sent fear shooting through Daisuke's veins if he had been awake to see it.

 

The creature could have passed as a tall human, albeit a tall human with tattooed red skin. The lines made angry trails across its flesh, carving the symbols for life, cruelty, obedience and power into the thing over and over again, reinforcing its purpose. The doll signaled for the creature to begin its work, and the being bent over Daisuke's form, deformed hands moving over the Guardian's face. The doll smiled and leaning over, cooed into the redhead's ear, “Don't worry; you'll be home soon.”

 

Dark:

 

The phone interrupted Dark's miserable thoughts, bringing him back into the real world. He slumped further down into the comfortable sofa, wanting nothing more than to be left to wallow in his own misery. However, the machine kept ringing until finally he heard the small `click' of the answering machine and Satoshi's voice filled the living room. “Hey Dark, Link Networks has two openings for reporters. You should apply.” There was a small pause, as though the other man wanted to say something more but then there was a click and the phone returned to silence. The purple-haired journalist stared at the phone, not daring to believe his ears. Link Networks, the company known for its up-to-the-minute reporting and practically unlimited resources.

 

He hastily dashed to his computer, printing off the application form and filling it out quickly, trying not to let his shaky hands affect his handwriting. He wondered whether he actually had a shot at getting a job at Link, but pushed the doubts aside. He would get this job. He had to.

 

Krad:

 

He was just minding his own business, walking back to the flat when suddenly a foul odour assaulted his nose, and it wasn't just any foul odour. It was the scent of a hunting Gyakurin, one that was hell-bent on finding its prey. Growling, he rubbed at his nose fiercely but the smell didn't go away; rather, it became stronger. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled and the blond immediately knew that there was one close by. The only problem was that he could not pinpoint the exact location. The creature might as well be standing next to him, for all he knew. Nevertheless, he had to find it. His pendant was already starting to burn against his skin and his senses became sharper as he called on the attributes of his…other form. He only hoped that no one took a close look at him and saw the bloodlust in his eyes. He grinned cruelly and sent tendrils of power out, searching for something that would resist the probing touch of his magick, smiling as something recoiled from his touch. Ah, a victim, he thought happily before nonchalantly strolling over to a patch of sidewalk, just next to the bus stop. He was more than happy to take the creature someplace else before ripping it apart with his bare hands.

 

It was the work of a few moments to transport himself and the creature to a remote part of the Gobi Desert, stepping back to allow the Gyakurin to adapt to its surroundings. After all, Krad was after a satisfying fight, and he did not want to end things sooner than necessary. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to fully change, feeling the slight tug of nails turning into claws stronger than steel and the ache of his canines elongating and sharpening to the point of becoming weapons themselves. It had been a while since the full moon had come out, and he was feeling…itchy.

 

The Gyakurin turned its ugly, insect-like head towards him, mouthparts clicking and still emitting that disgusting stench. The sight was really enough to make someone freeze in fear, Krad reflected. It's basically a giant centipede with extra poison. But he wasn't afraid. He was used to seeing these things.

 

In a heartbeat, the Gyakurin was on him, all hundred poison tipped legs slashing and slashing like some kind of efficient machine on its highest setting. The Guardian dodged the claws, baring his fangs and looking for a place in which to sink his own formidable weapons. Catching a glimpse of a dull spot amongst the creature's shiny red and blue skin, he lunged for it, only to hiss in agony as his fangs clanged off the equally hard area. What the f---? He thought incredulously as the demon scuttled around, turning to face him in the sands. Where's its sweet spot? Every other Gyakurin he and Daisuke had ever fought had always been vulnerable on its dull areas or below its belly. The centipede slowly lowered itself, only to open its glistening jaws. Then Krad saw it. He saw something glowing inside its monstrous maw, looking for all the world like the kind of bizarre tongue accessory that teenagers all wore nowadays. Who the hell modified it? The Guardian thought. Then the demon moved and he found himself flung back into a sand dune, the stuff immediately entering his eyes and blinding him. Cursing and rolling, he only barely managed to avoid the furiously moving legs once more as the Gyakurin closed in for the kill.

 

“No you f---ing don't,” he hissed in anger, claws suddenly turning dark red and red, sore eyes narrowing. The mouthparts clicked once more as the creature charged, saliva dripping obscenely from its jaws whilst the little thing inside its mouth glowed all the more brightly. Krad easily leapt away, but his anger was still there. All the irritation from the past few days, with Daisuke AWOL for no apparent reason, the twins' nagging and now his psychological evaluation all built up and in a mighty roar, he charged the demon, meeting it head on and tussling with it, ignoring the scratches on his body from the poisonous tips. He would deal with those later. Right now, he was going to tear this thing apart from section to monstrous section.

 

Ripping wildly at the hard armour that covered most of the Gyakurin, Krad bit and slashed at the creature, letting out his wild fury. Suddenly the whole world went silent, but the Guardian didn't notice as he fought the creature, tearing at whatever came into his grasp.

 

Finally he reached the jaws…and that was when he knew that the battle needed to end quickly. He was already losing his hearing from the poison, and any longer would only strip him of sight, taste, smell and sensation. The longer he waited, the likelier he was to die. Of course, that wasn't going to happen. Without thinking and still in the throes of his bestial form, Krad plunged one, large clawed hand into the Gyakurin's mouth and literally ripped its tongue out, along with the glowing thing. As though he were picking berries, he plucked the small blue orb out of the organ and tossed the black, slimy thing into the sand. Even as he watched, the centipede demon began to glow. Although it didn't change much in appearance or size, Krad knew that the `sweet spot' had just become available and he didn't waste any time. He lunged once more at the thing and sank his claws into soft, yielding flesh, tearing his way through the creature. It screeched in pain and reared up, wildly clawing at itself to try and get rid of the nuisance, but the Guardian was having none of it. With one final howl, he sent a bolt of Light magick through the demon, searing its insides and turning the entire thing into a small pile of dust, quickly blown away by the desert wind. Smirking, Krad pocketed the orb and returned to his human form before taking himself back to Azumano. He didn't care that he now smelled like Gyakurin, covered in that disgusting stench, or that his clothes were ruined beyond repair. The beast had been appeased. Whistling to himself, the blond man returned home, toying with the little blue orb he'd so recently acquired. I wonder what I just picked up?

 

He opened the door quickly, blinking at the sight of the redhead who lay on the couch. “Daisuke?” He asked incredulously. He couldn't believe that his own prim and proper partner was snoring away on the couch, in full view of anyone who happened to enter the apartment.

 

Satoshi:

 

“Make sure he gets that job.”

 

Satoshi sighed and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “I know,” he calmly replied, having heard that order for the fifth time in thirty minutes. “Though how, I don't.” He hastily ducked the magazine that came flying his way, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he glimpsed the cover of the thing. “Hustler?” He mildly inquired, turning to look at the fox.

 

“Yes, Hustler,” his sensei snapped before putting his feet up on the glass coffee table. “You might want to consider reading it sometime. It's very edifying.”

 

The blue-haired man did not dignify the last comment with a reply, carefully picking up the magazine as though it were some kind of bio-hazardous waste and flinging it into the trash can. His sensei immediately straightened up and yowled, “You can't do that!” Satoshi turned to face the older man and calmly crossed his arms.

 

“No. You are not going to read porno magazines in my house.” His glasses glinted in the sunlight and for a moment it seemed as though a shadow of someone else passed over his face.

 

“It is not porno!” The man protested. “Hustler does not qualify as pornography any more than trashy romance novels do!” He dashed over to the bin and fished the magazine out, waving it in his annoyed pupil's face. “I read these to you every night when you were in my tutelage!”

 

“I'm sure Freud would have had something to say about that.” He saw that his sensei was about to protest further and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Look, keep the blasted thing, and clean up after yourself.” His sensei's demeanour immediately went from desperate to delighted, rather like a child just given carte blanche to choose anything in the toy store. Satoshi sighed and returned to his place on the sofa, immersing himself once more in Camus.

 

“Hiwatari, I'm bored.” Blue eyes flickered up to glance coolly at his sensei before returning to `The Stranger'. With a growl of annoyance, his teacher stood up and went to the kitchen, clearly intent on making dinner. Good, the blue-haired journalist thought. At least he would be left in peace for most of the evening. Unfortunately, his quest for peace and quiet like the kind he'd had before his sensei showed up was to be fruitless, for the dissonant clatter of many heavy steel objects falling onto the kitchen tiles soon cut through the silence, followed by the man's colourful and multi-lingual curses. Casting his eyes upwards and searching vainly for patience, he finally stood up and went to supervise the making of dinner. It wasn't his sensei's cooking that was bad; it was just the starting up that inevitably turned the kitchen into something that would have haunted Cinderella's nightmares. Not for the first time, Satoshi Hiwatari wondered why out of all the sensei, he had to get the one who behaved like a child, temper tantrums included.

 

“Why the sudden hurry?” Satoshi asked his master over a dish of spiced chicken. “You've pretty much ignored me after I got posted to Azumano, and then you suddenly appear after six years and start telling me to follow Dark like I haven't already been doing so for the six months.”

 

The redheaded man hesitated for a moment before growling. “I always said you were too smart. You've just proven it.” Satoshi glared.

 

“I'm not a mindless robot. So if you were looking for a good little Agent, you've picked the wrong student.”

 

His sensei sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Satoshi, you're letting your curiosity cloud your mind. At least, I hope it's your curiosity, for your sake more than anyone else's.”

 

The journalist leaned forward, challenging his master with an icy gaze. “I haven't forgotten anything,” he said in a steely tone. “I'm a fully-fledged member of the Agency. I live to keep watch on the Five Temples. I serve only the Spymaster. Are you happy, sensei?” He hissed the final question, knowing how much the final vow irked his teacher. However, the older man showed no response, instead rising to tower over the blue-eyed man.

 

“Good. I expect you to remember that. And keep an eye on Dark. You may have been able to slack off whilst no one from the Agency cared where you were, but I'm here now. You'd best start writing, for your sake.” With those words he swept out, leaving Satoshi staring at the dishes on the table. The journalist sat in complete silence for a moment before burying his face in his hands. He'd known right from the beginning that Dark Mousy was special, different from the Guardians that swarmed this town, but if the Agency was getting itself directly involved, affairs were moving along at a much more rapid pace than he'd anticipated. Satoshi Hiwatari was rarely wrong, but he feared that this time his mistake would cost him dearly, especially after the Spymaster read his report. He only prayed that he would not be transferred elsewhere.

 

Krad and Daisuke:

 

“What're you doing?” growled Krad. He knew that the younger man had likely been out all night, but there was no excuse for his snoring on the couch, of all places. “At least have the decency to get back to your own room,” he mumbled under his breath as he set about the difficult task of waking the younger Guardian up. Shaking the redhead, he finally managed to elicit a response, only to recoil at the look in Daisuke's eyes. Not because he was afraid, or because the crimson orbs held any danger in them; but because they were blank. They were devoid of the life that a soul gave a human body; they were little more than just beautiful, red glass orbs. “D-Daisuke?” he asked, hoping desperately that he was wrong and that the other was just playing a trick on him. At worst, he was hopped up on drugs. It would be a hassle to detoxify him in a hospital, but much better than the outcome that had seared through his mind at the first sight of the emptiness.

 

“Who are you?”

 

Krad froze. “What?”

 

“Who are you? I don't know you.”

 

Oh sh--. The blond prayed that the worst had not happened. “I'm Krad, remember?” He forced a smile out, hoping that the fear in his eyes didn't show. “Your partner? The guy you live with?”

 

“I don't know you.” Daisuke was starting to regain his senses and he looked around the living room uncomfortably. “Where am I?” His voice was getting louder, his tone more frantic. “Did you bring me here? I don't like it. Let me go home.” Krad took a few deep breaths.

 

“Daisuke, we're…” The words died away on his lips as the full ramifications of Daisuke's memory loss hit him. He can't know about the mission. He mustn't. Not until he gets his memory back. Time to change tack. “We're going to go home soon, okay Daisuke?” The next question confirmed his worst fears.

 

“You keep calling me Daisuke. Is that my name?” Krad was torn between rage, horror and fear at the sight of his partner, the only Guardian to be blessed with the Hand of Judgement in the last four hundred years, desperately trying to recall his own name. The only thing he could think of at the moment, much to his dismay, was whether or not Daisuke would remember how to cook his eggs properly in the morning ever again.

 

“Stay there,” the blond told his partner. “I'll be back and then we can go home.” Daisuke nodded immediately, settling down once more on the couch.

 

Krad didn't know what else to do. Running into the kitchen, he skimmed through the wads of paper stuck on the fridge, desperately looking for Satoshi's number. With shaking hands, he dialed the number and waited. The suspense was agony, and when the blue-haired journalist finally picked up the phone, Krad could only spit out his request. “I need Dark's phone number.” As much as he hated to call the purple-haired man, he knew that this time was an emergency, and Dark was the only one aside from Satoshi who knew about their being Guardians. Satoshi was just about as useful as Dark in this case, but the blond figured that since Daisuke appeared to have taken a liking to the journalist he may as well try the other. Who knew what would jog his memory now, anyway?

 

2…4…9…3…5…7…6…6. He waited for what seemed like an eternity for someone to pick up the phone, unable to prevent a sigh of relief from escaping his lips as he heard the familiar although not well-loved voice answer. “Hello?”

 

“Dark, this is Krad.” There was a pause on the phone before the older man finally responded.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Daisuke's lost his memory.”

 

There was another pause, along with the sound of papers shuffling as though the amethyst-eyed journalist was not fully concentrating on the phone call. A loud bark sounded over the phone and there was a clatter and the sound of murmured instructions, clearly Dark telling his mutt to go away and not bother him. “You have a dog, journalist?”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Dark asked simply. Krad had to give it to the man; his potential interest had lost his memory and all he could do was ask what his panicking friend wanted? Jackass, the Guardian seethed.

 

“Well, you coming over would be nice,” he sarcastically replied.

 

“Look, I'm out of a job, I have one eye and I have a gigantic dog to take care of. So you'll excuse me for being just a little bit busy. We don't all have an all-expenses paid account, so some of us actually do need to work.” Dark sounded irritated. “If you called me because you think I might be able to help in some way, just tell me. Don't start with some bullsh—idea and expect me to pull a solution out of my ass.”

 

Krad growled, feeling like an idiot for calling Dark. Of course the man would be an ass about things. “Fine,” he snapped down the phone. “Don't help. Be a normal human being and play with your dog, or whatever it is you do when you're not being a dickhead.”

 

“Perhaps you should try prank-calling someone with an actual sense of humour. Mine's a little short at the moment.”

 

The blond gawked in a most undignified fashion at the phone before mustering the composure to shout down the phone. “You think I'm pranking you?” He demanded. “You think I'm yanking your chain?”

 

Dark was in no mood to play games, especially not with someone who had already made it clear that he disliked him. “Yes.”

 

“I'm not doing this for sh—s and giggles, Dark!” Krad nearly spat into the phone. “He's actually lost his f---ing memory! He doesn't remember his own name, for heaven's sake!”

 

“Then what do you want me to do?” The purple-haired man asked. “Sing to him? Whack him over the head and magically restore his memory?”

 

“I just want you to f---ing talk to him. Maybe he'll actually remember you.”

 

“I highly doubt it.”

 

“Well, I don't. I'm going to put you on the line now, so don't hang up.” Krad leaned out to where Daisuke could see him and waved frantically to the redhead, motioning for him to come over and talk on the phone. With a bewildered look, the Guardian came over and carefully picked up the strange contraption, mimicking the way the older student had previously held it. He waited for something to happen and almost jumped at the sound of the voice coming from the little machine.

 

“Daisuke? That you?” He didn't know the voice, but it was nice. Sort of soothing, and maybe even warmer when it wasn't tinged with worry. Daisuke swallowed hard, looking around as though hoping for some way to communicate with the black thing in his hands. Krad sighed in exasperation as his partner looked around, clearly unsure of how to use the phone.

 

“Talk,” the blond growled reluctantly, still unable to come to grips with the fact that the other man had been reduced to some kind of child who could talk but couldn't even use a phone. “He'll hear you,” he snapped in response to the questioning look the redhead gave him.

 

“Daisuke?” Dark was starting to think that the whole thing was just one of Krad's stupid university-student pranks when a quiet voice quavered over the line.

 

“H-Hi.”

 

The journalist blinked. In the short time he had known Daisuke, never had the redhead shown any such uncertainty in his voice. There had always been a quiet confidence behind his words, but it was absent from here. “Hi. How are you?”

 

“I'm all-all right.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah.” Daisuke swallowed hard, feeling worried that he would do something wrong and that the blond would take the little machine away. “I want to go home.” He said quietly.

 

“Sorry?”

 

The redhead took another deep breath. “I want to go home.”

 

“You are home, aren't you Daisuke? You're calling from your apartment that you share with Krad and the girls.” Krad? The name whirred through his mind but no one with that name surfaced in his mind.

 

“Who's Krad? I don't know anyone called Krad. Is he the blond man next to me?”

 

Dark froze. The last time he'd heard this question, it had been directed to a nurse. The last time anyone had asked that, it had been about him. It had been about his mother, suffering Alzheimer's and unable to remember anything about her husband or son. Only thinking and talking about her school friends who now lived in Nevada. Swallowing the wave of shock and fear of being abandoned that swept over him, he asked once more, “Daisuke, are you all right?”

 

There was the sound of soft sniffling over the phone. “Y-yes. I want to go home now!”

 

Dark put on his best soothing voice, the one he'd been told could charm the birds right out of the trees. “Daisuke, where is home?”

 

There was a pause. “With you. Isn't it?”

 

Stunned silence accompanied the question. Krad, meanwhile, was tapping his foot on the kitchen floor, listening idly to a one-sided conversation that had nothing to do with him. He blinked as Daisuke carefully proffered the phone to him, taking it as though it were loaded and making his presence known over the line. “Yo, Dark. What's up?”

 

“He thinks he lives with me.”

 

Golden eyes widened. A small smile curved Krad's lips for the first time since coming home and he asked with a laugh in his voice, “Does he now?”

 

“Yes.” Dark didn't know whether to grin in triumph at finally getting a shot at Daisuke without the blond Guardian's interference, or whether to cringe at the loss of his much-loved privacy. With his dog lying around, he wasn't sure if he could take the presence of another person with him. His thoughts were spoiled by Krad's next sentence.

 

“Well, then live with you he shall.” Before the journalist could protest, Krad had already hung up and was dragging Daisuke to his room. “Come on, Dai. Let's get your stuff packed and you home with Dark.” The redhead's innocent eyes widened as he realized in panic that he didn't know this `Dark' person.

 

Takeshi:

 

He turned on his music, trying to occupy himself with some mundane task to shake the feeling of being watched. Nevertheless, the tingly feeling at the back of his neck continued and he slowly walked to his room, dreading the feeling of being alone. Normally he would call Dark over, or the other man would drop by unannounced holding a bag of Thai takeout, grin on his face and ready to get hammered, but his friend had been awfully busy lately. And to tell the truth, Takeshi wasn't sure if he was ready to face a man whom he now knew to have shared an occupation with the man who had killed his father all those years ago. As he bent over to pick up a fallen pen cap, he never saw the shadow that fell across the room. In a heartbeat, his fallen body was gone, replaced by a man who looked, sounded and smiled like Saehara Takeshi. But Saehara Takeshi was no more.

 

“Good work, Takegawa.” The Canis standing behind him gave a whimper and slowly sank to the floor, lying there like some nightmarish animal waiting to pounce out of the shadows. Dark brown eyes turned to face the creature, a cruel smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “I do hope you'll continue to work like this,” the man continued. “It really would be a pity if your usefulness diminished if only because of the change in your form. And besides, Canis are really wonderful creatures. Sometimes, I even think they can understand my intentions before I command them. Isn't that interesting?” Takegawa could only cower and pray that his Master did not suddenly decide that Takeshi's guise wasn't enough, and want to acquire more bodies.

 

As though sensing his thoughts, his master turned around, dark eyes looking at the dog in front of him. “Don't worry, Takegawa,” he said softly. “I won't leave you alone. In fact, I think you'll like my next plan.”

 

Dark:

 

He hung up the phone and stared at the dog sitting next to him, wondering just what had happened. Krad had not sounded happy except for when he was telling Dark to prepare for an impromptu sleepover. Daisuke didn't sound good either; since when had he been so timid? Apart from the first day they had met, he had never heard the younger Guardian show uncertainty or fear. “What do you think, boy?” He asked the dog. “Ready for a sleepover?” The animal appeared to grow excited by the thought of more new people to meet, it barked happily, the glow around it becoming more intense. The purple-haired man grinned and slowly stood up. If Daisuke was going to be staying here for a while, he'd best prepare the spare room. He highly doubted the redhead, as traumatised as he was, would stand for sleeping in the same bed as another man, especially if he didn't remember said man.

 

He found it strange to look at the bedroom after he was done. He'd managed to root out some old spare sheets, a little worn but still intact, and the bed was neatly made. It felt strange to see the spare room aired out again; Dark had never imagined that it would be used for anything more than storage. Looking around, he nodded to himself in satisfaction and headed back into the living room to watch some television. He needed to keep up with the news if he was going to work at Link Networks, provided they even offered him a position. He would send the application form in first thing tomorrow morning.

 

All too soon, the doorbell rang. Much to his disgust, butterflies made themselves known in his stomach as he approached the door and slowly opened it. Don't be an idiot, he told himself shortly. Daisuke's stayed over before, and you didn't seem to really care. So just act normal. He looked at the two Guardians on his doorstep and fought the urge to recoil in shock. Daisuke's eyes were blank and innocent, almost as pure as a child's. For a moment he saw a shadow come over the other's eyes, blocking it like a thin film of darkness, but it was gone and Dark shook his head, cursing at the loss of his left eye.

 

“How's the eye going?” Krad casually asked.

 

Dark smiled and stepped aside to let the two in. “It's all right,” he said. He thought about telling the student about his vision problems, but figured that the other probably wouldn't care. It wasn't as thought Krad, of all people, could or would do anything about it. “How are you two?”

 

The corners of Krad's mouth twitched slightly even as his eyebrows drew downwards in a frown. So perhaps that wasn't the best question to ask, Dark thought dryly.

 

“Well, I've had an absolutely marvelous day,” the senior told him. “I saw my school counselor, fought a poisonous Gyakurin and extracted something out of the ordinary from it, I still have sand in my pants and now my partner's memory has gone MIA. Not bad at all.” Dark covered a smile with one hand at the thought of Krad sitting at some faceless student counsellor's desk. He almost pitied the man. Almost.

 

“Should you even mention Guardian stuff around Daisuke?” Dark asked.

 

“Well, I'm hoping that something will trigger his memory, and he needs to get back into the groove of things anyhow,” the blond said carelessly. “We-the Temple-need him. We need every damn Guardian we've got. Things are heating up.”

 

Dark raised an eyebrow. “Amnesia doesn't really follow the normal course of time,” he dryly remarked. “What if these `things' you keep worrying about happen before he regains his memory?” He peered at Daisuke's face, ignoring the stubborn twist of the mouth that signaled a forthcoming display of awe-inspiring mulishness upon the redhead's part. In spite of his confusion, the crimson-eyed man was determined not to let anyone push him around.

 

He turned to Dark. “Do I live here with you?” he demanded. He didn't like being talked about as though he weren't present. “I don't remember anything.” Purple eyes regarded him levelly and Daisuke resisted the urge to look at his shoes, suddenly feeling like a five-year old child petulantly trying to get attention from its parents. Then he felt worse for letting this journalist, or whatever he was, treat him like a petulant five-year old. Since when had he been so conscious of others' opinion of him, anyway?

 

Dark paused for a moment before shrugging. “No, but you seemed convinced that you did over the phone.”

 

“I don't even know your name!”

 

Dark stared at Krad. “Did you just haul him over here without telling him anything?” The blond shrugged in response, but the journalist caught a glint of mischief in those golden eyes before it was quickly hidden. “You did?!” He growled and walked over to the blond, fully intending to give him a piece of his mind.

 

The other man hastily raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, backing up at the irritation in those amethyst eyes. “Hey, he thought he lived with you. He said so himself!”

 

The journalist turned back to Daisuke. “What's your name?”

 

“Um, I'm not sure. I guess it's Daisuke.”

 

Dark nodded hastily. “Okay, so what's your last name?”

 

The redhead cocked his head to one side, thinking for a moment before nodding decisively to himself. “It's Niwa,” he told Dark proudly. “That's good, right? It means I can remember something.”

 

Krad wasn't so sure. “Okay, point to the telephone,” he bluntly said. Daisuke looked around for a moment and then pointed at Dark's phone, sitting on the window ledge. The younger Guardian grinned.

 

“How much memory do you think I lost?” He asked mildly. Krad stared and then stalked out of the apartment. Dark and Daisuke traded looks and the journalist finally burst out laughing.

 

“Daisuke, just what are you up to?” He asked. “So…how have you been? Has Chemistry been giving you any problems?” The redhead's face dropped and he looked down slowly at the duffle bag at his feet.

 

“I…don't remember much,” he finally said. “I mean, I remember normal stuff, like how to use a computer and how to flush the toilet - I do!” He yelped at the stunned look on Dark's face. “I just don't remember the important things, like who I am or what I'm supposed to be doing. Krad acts like I should know what a Guardian is, or what the - the Temple is, but I don't. When you were talking to him I felt like I'd fallen into another planet or something.” Dark blinked and sighed. If someone had told him a week ago that he'd be explaining the idea of Guardians to Daisuke Niwa, who was himself a Guardian, he would have laughed himself sick. But here he was, with said Guardian staring hopefully at him, like he could solve the world's problems.

 

“Come on,” he finally said. “We can talk about that stuff later. Let's get you to your room.” With a vague sense of foreboding, he led Daisuke to the guest room. “I hope it's okay,” he awkwardly said as he switched on the light. “I haven't used this room for ages.” Daisuke looked around, from the worn pink sheets to the stack of boxes in a corner of the room and frowned a little, as though expecting something different.

 

“It doesn't feel like home,” he said shortly. “Did my room…did it always look like this?” It was as though he hadn't heard Dark's previous remarks at all. The purple-haired man shifted uncomfortably. How do you tell someone it's not their house? He asked himself silently, only to find himself looking back down into expectant red eyes.

 

As though satisfied, Daisuke slowly moved to the bed and set his things down by it, sitting on the piece of furniture almost gingerly. “I don't know if this is home,” the redhead said honestly, “but it feels nice.” Dark didn't know how to respond and carefully nodded.

 

“Well, I'll go make dinner then. The bathroom's the second door down the hall, I'm sure you'll find it. And, um,” he continued, feeling like some kind of hotel manager, “you'll find towels and things in the wardrobe over there, it's all in compartments and whatnot.” He stepped out again, wanting to get rid of the awkwardness between them. It was like a wall of fog between them, one that hadn't existed before Daisuke lost his memory.

 

Satoshi's apartment:

 

His pupil was in bed, at a surprisingly early hour too. Then again, that cup of coffee might have had something to do with it. Abel Masaryk sighed and shifted once more in his seat, admiring the night view of Azumano and the harbour from his wayward student's house. He absently-mindedly rubbed the arm of the leather sofa he was currently lounging on, doing his best to remain calm. The television was on, bright light and noise filling the living room. A normal scene and a comforting, familiar one when he considered what would happen sometime tonight.

 

“Mr. Masaryk.” The man nearly jumped and turned around.

 

“Ah, yes,” he said, quickly regaining his composure. A flash of contempt ran through those familiar brown eyes and he suppressed the urge to growl, knowing that it would get him nowhere. “Good evening, ma'am,” he politely said. “What can I help you with?”

 

“We have received some disturbing news. The Gyakurin dispatched to find any Guardian in Azumano has been found, brutally slaughtered.”

 

“Oh?” Masaryk cocked his head to one side. “Is that so.” The woman nodded once more, not even bothering to hide her impatience anymore.

 

“It was found in the Gobi Desert with its tongue ripped out. The new prototype is gone.” The fox sighed.

 

“Well, then get it back.” The woman stared at him as though he had gone mad. “…Sir?”

 

“You heard what I said. There's no use having a new prototype if you can't get it.” The woman bowed stiffly, standing tall once more. Abel smiled, recognizing her body language. “Tell the Agency everything is under control,” he said smoothly. “Do they know about the Gyakurin?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Then they shouldn't. Keep it quiet for as long as you can. If one word so much as reaches me about the Gyakurin in the next week, know that you will be brought in to me. I know where you are, I know who you are. I even know your true appearance.” He chuckled at the sudden stiffening of her long limbs. He waved carelessly at her. “Goodbye.” She vanished as suddenly as she had arrived, and Abel Masaryk was left once more to his thoughts.

 

This isn't good, he thought as he looked out at the now-dark sea. The Agency has never used demons before. That they're starting now is not a good sign. He was worried; for the first time in forty years with the Agency, he was no longer able to identify their goals, or see what they were working towards. The Agency had been originally created to keep watch over the Five Celestial Temples, to ensure that nothing corrupted them, but it had always had its own agenda as well. Abel sighed and took another long drink from the glass of whisky, newly-bought, in front of him. It was not his place to question their motives, or to second-guess them. He was a grunt, someone only meant to carry out orders. To question anything the Agency did was to ask for trouble.

 

Krad:

 

The flat was noisy, filled with the clamour of the girls demanding to know where Daisuke had gone. Krad had simply fended them off with a story about a study session-sleepover at someone's house, but he had a feeling that Riku didn't buy it completely. Nevertheless, he had to come up with some explanation for it. He certainly couldn't let the twins know that his redheaded partner had lost his memory, and didn't remember that he lived with them. It was all for the best, he decided. Besides, he really didn't need an incapacitated partner living with him, not when they were undercover. He only hoped that Daisuke had remembered to bring his Box along; if the thing was left in the apartment someone might actually pick it up, or worse yet, throw it out.

 

Then there was the matter of Dark. His eye was gone, and he had a dog by his side now. His aura had also changed; it was now slightly darker, though admittedly had lightened up a little when he saw Daisuke. Krad was concerned about this. The journalist had changed in the past few days in hospital; he'd somehow hardened. Or maybe he had always been like that, but the hardness only showed when his mask had been previously shattered. But there was that worrisome purple aura-combined with Dark's sudden ability to create fire, it could easily spiral out of control. The blond Guardian

 

His pendant suddenly burned and he whirled around, only to see a scrap of paper fluttering down onto his desk. He snatched it up and read the message: Guess who? He stared at the scrap of paper uncomprehendingly until he realized that he knew that handwriting. “Klaus von Brecht,” he hissed as his eyes turned red.

 

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival everyone, and thank you for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!