Tokyo Babylon Fan Fiction / X/1999 Fan Fiction ❯ A Perfect Circle ❯ Lucifer's Side of the Story ( Chapter 10 )

Warning: This chapter contains relatively explicit yaoi (male X male) content and description of rape. Do not read if this bothers you.

------------

"…how much longer do you plan to drag this game out?"

"Which 'game'?"

"You know exactly what I am talking about. Don't even try to generalize this into neutrality. Really, it all boils down to the fact that you're a bitter man who just can't let go."

"Hm…"

---------

A tall, lanky young man robed in close-skirted black crashed into the shrine stairs and sobbed as his skull smashed onto the edge of one of the stone steps. He rolled his sore head over the rim of the step until his cheek flattened tolerably against the icy-wet stone. Lightning struck a tree across the street with a deafening crack and showered sparks and splinters over the shrine wall. He shrieked so harshly that no sound escaped his throat and curled up more tightly into his coat. Somebody had left the coat open; the textured cloth dragged against the stone and made it difficult to pull the material around his shoulders. He was too tired to lift his weight long enough to pull the cloth out from under his side. He pulled feebly against the friction holding his coat taut and bit his lip.

Help. Help. Please, God, send somebody-please-anybody-

--------

"-are you in?"

"If that is what you wish-"

------

Blood was pooling in his mouth. He whimpered and shifted his face just enough to relieve the growing pressure on his jaw. At some point his jaw had been cracked and he had bitten his tongue so badly that he wasn't sure it was still attached. He spat out the blood and squeezed his eyes shut. Sleet was collecting on his black hair. He blinked in an attempt to clear the water off of his eyelashes. It only ran into his eyes.

He shifted his weight and barked through clenched teeth, then hissed and retched. Pain shot up his spine from the root of his backside every time he tried to twist his hips too sharply. He knew that he was bleeding down below and somehow badly damaged-badly violated-but had no recollection of what had happened. He rolled onto his back, winced, and rested the back of his skull on the concrete stair. His back was being aligned, finally. He sobbed and shook his head to clear his hair of the water that was weighting it into his feverish face, the latter of which the rain was cooling. His throat was raw from holding back a hysterical breakdown. The idea was tickling at the back of his dazed vertigo.

Somebody-oh my god, where am I? Where-Kotori? Kotori? He scrabbled onto his hands and coughed at the protest his various wounds gave him. He spat more blood onto the concrete. The rain washed it into thin trails. This is-I'm home, aren't I? Kotori, I'm home. I'm-

------

Fuuma stood at the roots of a gnarled tree sprawling over its own purple lake of light in a black dimension and stared at the loose, discarded body of a young girl as it drifted above him in the sakura blooms. Her eyes were dilated and bloodshot. Blood dripped onto his face from the gaping hole in her chest as the tree drew her further into its fold. What little he could still see of the little girl's face was a clear testament of her final moments-exhausted with pleading and terror, shrieking, calling for her parents, calling for anybody, begging for mercy, and merely hoping that somebody would snatch her from the nightmare into which she had stumbled and save her life.

Fuuma brushed the blood off of his cheekbone and stared at the smear it left on the blade of his hand. It was already drying on his skin and turning sticky.

"…you really are pathetic, old man."

The man in question stroked the bloodstained rag frog that was draped across his arm and smiled. "Thank you."

-------

He fell onto his side and dry-heaved into his hand, then took several deep breaths to prevent hyperventilation. The gore was sending his stomach into rebellion. He feebly pawed at his cheek to clear it of all evidence of the blood, then allowed his wrist to drop with exhaustion and rest against the side of his temple. He curled his hand into a cup as though trying to muffle the source of his splitting headache and clutched his head. His memories of the girl's murder, whoever she was, consisted of a heated haze of screams and watching a second tall, lanky, black-robed figure chase her down an alley. It was a dismantled, vivid, adrenaline-rushed picture show.

Somebody, help. Somebody. Somebody-

------

The marble-eyed man always seemed amused.

------

"…somebody," he whispered to himself. He started to murmur into the heat within the folds of his coat. "Somebody, anybody, help me. Somebody. Somebody. Somebody. Somebody make me warm. I'm so cold. It's so cold out here, Kamui. Kamui. Kotori's-make me warm. I hurt so badly. Please, help me-somebody…"

Who is Kamui?

------

"Let's make a bet."

-----

Kamui is-my friend, right? He-he lives here, no, I live here. That's right. Kamui. I'm home. Somebody, take me inside. Father, mother, somebody. I'm hungry. I-soup, that would be nice. Soup, hot steam, blankets, just dissolving into blankets on the floor-I want to go home. I need sleep. I'll… I'll remember when I wake up. It's at the edge of my thoughts right now, like trying to hold sand-the harder I grasp-the more I lose-sandcastles-the beach-

Kamui, why are you crying? What's wrong?

-----

A man was panting harshly and thrusting Fuuma into a Spartan mattress and thin, starched sheets, slamming his shoulder-blades and head into the headboard. There was a shattering stab of pain at each thrust, though the pain had felt good to him at the time and made him claw at the sheets and throw his head back while molten lead rushed through the core of his abdomen. He was fighting to control his ragged gasps to partake in the dominance battle of the sort the other man loved. Fuuma was doing perfectly-putting up the utmost resistance, presenting a worthy challenge, and finally breaking down. The other man could delude himself easily in his high-strung state.

-----

The boy screamed and curled into a knot.

----

A slice of moonlight cut across the man's immaculate face from behind the drapes. Sweat dripped off of the man's neck and spattered on Fuuma's collar as he thrust-hard-into Fuuma's prostate, and stopped as Fuuma choked back a yell. The man panted and watched with rapidly twisting triumph as Fuuma squirmed for movement. He bit the calf resting on his shoulder.

"Do you… want…"

Fuuma moaned and screwed his eyes shut, clenching the sheets into knots and twisting his head away while fighting to control his breathing. The man grinned open-mouthed through ragged gasps and leaned onto Fuuma's legs, flat, hot, slick stomach sliding against the back of his thighs, and ran bloody fingers against Fuuma's damp scalp and behind his ear, tracing streaks through the strands.

"…ask nicely."

--------

"STOP!"

-------

Fuuma spat in his face. The man grinned and licked blood off of the blade of his hand.

"You're… an amusing little doll…"

--------

"GET OUT! GET OUT!" The young man clawed at his face and covered the back of his head, burying his face in his arms. He clutched at his hair and screamed. "STOP IT! GO AWAY! GET OUT OF ME! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!"

--------

Stars exploded behind his eyes as the man smashed his skull into the sleek, metal headboard again and leaned through his legs to yank his head up by the roots-

--------

"…go away… go away…go away… go away…"

-------

--thirsting on the blood that was starting to pool in his mouth-

--------

"…stop…. stop… please… please, stop… stop… get out…STOP… STOP…"

---------

--he vaguely remembered the black-haired man, sitting in a chair with Fuuma's chin resting on his crown, smashing his head up into his jaw when he had started-something-he didn't remember what, but did remember the calm, predatory continence the man maintained when he had turned around and forced Fuuma back into the wall. He was tall enough to have to tip Fuuma's jaw up to his level, a feeling to which Fuuma was not accustomed. The man had devoured the fresh blood then, too, lapping and sucking his mouth and returning after burst-gasps as though he was dying of thirst and drinking to his satisfaction.

-----

"…EAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" He lashed onto his back and clawed at his face in disgust. "GOD DAMN IT, GET OFF! STOP IT! PLEASE! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! …AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Somebody yelled in the distance.

He curled onto his side and gasped, no longer trying to control his sobbing. His black-clad shoulders were quaking. He kept whispering broken, desperate pleas and mantras to anybody who cared to listen, anybody-somebody-who would help him. He squirmed and retched when he felt the responding pain in his rear. He was utterly disgusted with being in his own body. He cried and spat more blood onto the sidewalk, then retched and spat desperately when he felt a phantom tongue lapping in his mouth. There was nothing in his stomach to regurgitate. He hugged his black-clad legs and buried his face in his knees, basking in the warmth of his own body on his face contrasting with the cold, wet stone against his cheek. He was desperately trying to pool all of his identity and autonomy back to his chest.

He had no identity; therefore, he could summon no dignity. He couldn't remember his own name. What little could be sacred to him on the most primordial levels of self-possession was tainted. He curled more tightly and bit his kneecap, screwing his eyes shut. I can think, can't I? Don't I live at this place? He took several deep breaths and tried to calm himself. All right… I have a name. If I remember my name, I'll remember who I am, won't I? Yeah… Oh, disgusting, there's blood running down my leg again-don't think on it. Do NOT think on it. Focus. He shuddered and whimpered. I have to get inside. I have to get warm and dry. I have to get-somewhere-it's so cold out here. I'm getting sick. I'm running a fever. My face is on fire. Somebody-

He numbly noted that somebody was hopping-hopping, was that normal?-yes, hopping-over the rooftops across the street. The person landed neatly in the yard out of the range of his vision. He curled defensively. Somebody? Don't touch me. Get away from me-ergh, help. He shuddered and screwed his eyes shut as somebody ran toward him over the wet grass, screaming something. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Don't-

"FUUMA! FUUUMA! HOLD ON! I'M COMING!"

…'Fuuma'?

-------

"…but today, I will let you go."

------

"Kanoe is not going to be happy about this."

"Oh, I'm sure she won't be." Yuuto poured tea and watched the video footage from the security cameras CLAMP Campus had set up around Togakushi Shrine. The camera was at an odd caddy-corner angle to the shrine steps and the long, dark-robed man that intermittently thrashed or flopped onto his other side or his back. "He's pretty far off his rocker, I'd say, bloody screaming at the top of his lungs like he is. It's time to put Monou Fuuma in the happy farm." Yuuto set his mug and saucer on the table and glanced up into his brain, amused, and collapsed onto the flat of his hand. "…then again, I think every adolescent belongs in the happy farm. I as sure as hell belonged there when I was his age."

"Don't you mean 'Kamui'?"

"No, I mean who I said. But 'Kamui' is probably also screaming at the top of his lungs somewhere, though that's more of a normal occurrence for that young man. I'm sure CLAMP Campus has alerted the Dragons of Heaven about this already. It's pretty much a given that Kamui will show up very soon."

"Should we do something?"

"Why?"

"…that's a good question."

"There are no bad ones." Yuuto stirred his tea with the tip of his spoon, preoccupied with some vestige of thought, and started laughing. Satsuki glanced at him.

"What?"

" 'You're kind of creeping me out looking at me like that.' "

A smile cracked across Satsuki's face--a shutterbox-flicker at which Yuuto smiled, before she suppressed it and dabbed at some imaginary crumbs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Yuuto almost snapped his fingers in half-victory, half-loss to keep from grasping at the illusive smile before its essence drifted past. His fingers subconsciously curled on the tabletop. He leaned coquettishly on the flat of his hand and steered the lemon slice across the top of his tea with his spoon.

" 'You going to do this or not? You're really torturing me.' "

"Yuuto, shut up."

"Am I the girl in this relationship? Do you consider this too much foreplay?--"

"We don't have a relationship," Satsuki said rapidly, realizing the initial volume of her voice and smoothing off into her usual calm. She finished fumbling with cleaning her glasses on her green shorts and pushed the lenses back over her eyes. Beneath her cool, detached, placid expression, Yuuto could tell that she was rattled. Good. This is good, darling. You protest too much. "There's nothing between us, Yuuto."

"I was just joking. You seem to protest too strongly."

"Fifty percent of joking is what people are afraid to say." She stared Yuuto straight in the eyes, clearly annoyed. "I don't want you making assumptions or getting used to ideas that have no weight. I will make this clear: you are my comrade, nothing more."

"Not even a friend?"

Something metallic lanced through Yuuto's stomach. Why the hell are you worrying? Oh my god, she means it. No-she just-I saw something that was really there. I'm not deluding myself. Calm down, old boy. Yuuto's fought to keep all shades of sadness out of his smile and closed his eyes. He slurped from his cup in a vain attempt to wash the metallic taste out of his saliva. Behind Satsuki, the screen showed a flickering, rain-washed picture of the abandoned shrine steps. The rain was beating the blood-patch into dilute strings running with the forming water-flows.

"I don't make friends with humans."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yuuto, I'm not in the mood for this."

"Well, I gain a lot of pleasure from your company."

"Your position is well known."

Ouch. Yuuto blinked and sat back in his chair, resting his saucer on the crook of his knee. He twitched the corners of his mouth back into an imitation a smile. He had given up on forcing his usual happiness back into his brown eyes. They were too open for any attempt to have a chance.

"Do you think I am pathetic?"

Satsuki pretended to be preoccupied with the screen. Yuuto maintained a sad smile and fished a sugar cube out of the copper dish.

"Do you?"

"What?"

You heard me. Stop it. "Do you think I am pathetic?"

Satsuki sighed and removed her glasses to busy herself with cleaning them once again. "I don't know, Yuuto."

"…you don't know." Just keep twisting, love. Eventually my heart will be so wrapped around the blade that you'll be able to yank it straight out.

"No, that's-no, I don't. I don't, Yuuto." Satsuki stared at him again. "I am paying you the ultimate respect by telling you the truth. I can't blame you for your human inclinations. You are wired to feel this way about other humans."

"You're not a computer, Satsuki-chan."

"I know this."

"Why don't you show your human inclinations? Do you think that makes you pathetic?"

"I just don't have them, Yuuto. I'm sorry."

"…you don't have them."

"No, I don't. I've never felt any sexual urges or anything of the sort toward anything. I'm completely cold toward others. I know that others have those inclinations, but I do not. I just don't feel that way."

"Hm…" Yuuto shrugged and stared out into space. Satsuki furrowed her fine eyebrows and replaced her glasses over the bridge of her nose.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you really believe any of that nonsense, or do you say it because you want to look cool?"

Satsuki arched her eyebrows. Yuuto relaxed his shoulders and watched her.

"…I beg your pardon?"

"Do you really believe that nonsense? Quite frankly, that's a crock of shit. I thought higher of you than that, Satsuki-chan."

"What?"

"What, you don't see right through that?" Yuuto warped the traces of sadness in his smile into sardonicism and set his saucer on the table. He pushed his hands into his pockets and leaned back. "It's so trendy nowadays for all of these adolescents to say that they're 'wired that way' and that they don't feel anything resembling physical attraction because they want to be special and different, weird, I guess, but if anything they're the ones with the strongest erotic sides of all. Well, the ones who weren't damaged in some way so that they convinced themselves that they are 'wired' in such a null way as a form of genuine suppression."

"You're displaying a rather closed mentality on this subject yourself."

"Really? Well, I don't think you're all that different after all, Satsuki-chan."

Satsuki grimaced and stood. "I have some things to which to attend. I don't have time to argue on this. You, like all humans, will believe what you want to believe."

"As will you."

Satsuki's expression had already smoothed back into its placid state. She glanced at Yuuto with outward indifference, tinged by annoyance, and walked off.

"You would be surprised at what the mind can achieve."

"So you're admitting that you have something there you're trying to conquer and suppress?" he called to her back, twisting around in his seat. "As in you're wrong, I'm right?"

"I will talk to you later."

"…fine." Yuuto sighed and turned back to the video feed of the rain-washed shrine from which all of the blood had been washed. He wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or sick, though on an intellectual level he was positive that he was correct.

She wouldn't be flustered if you weren't. She's human. You might have scared her off, but she's a human. BEAST's been jealous too. Come on, that has to be a sign of something. Even if she sees me as another machine, it's still something… we're the same type of machine, right? Yeah, she might go for that… hopefully…

"…I so just won that argument…"

------------------

This has got to be the longest fucking day of my life.

Kamui took another drag of his cigarette and allowed his wrist to drop loosely over his knee. He knocked ashes off of the roll and concentrated on their wafting descent to a patch of the concrete roof shadowed by his leg. The fingertips of his opposite hand were resting lightly on the package of Subaru's stolen Wild 7's. He was unable to move the latter arm since it was splinted at an angle forward from his shoulder, and so chose a cross-legged sitting position that would allow him to rest lightly on his forearm without jarring his injury. He had long since removed his hospital gown and was currently shirtless and enjoying the cool damp that followed the storm on the hospital roof, leaning against the foundation support for the stairwell. His various earlier injuries and the scars therein involved were all evident; he still had a gauze patch over the exit wound through his stomach for which the white medical tape was beginning to curl off. The violet city-sky was beginning to tinge with the yellow-white of dawn.

Fucked. Over. Fucked. Over. Oh my god. This is so fucked up. Now what the hell am I going to do? Kamui covered his eyes with the cigarette still clamped between his fingers and clutched at his temples. A few ashes were knocked onto his legs. Oh my god. Fuuma's strapped to a gurney and fucking screams every time I try to touch him. Subaru's being a complete bitch. Yuzuriha's crying. Keiichi's being weird. Everybody sucks. I made out with Subaru. I made out with Subaru. Oh my fucking god. What the hell was I thinking?

Kamui traced his pinky over his lips thoughtfully and clenched the sides of his head together more tightly. Why the hell did that happen tonight? God, Shirou, where the hell was your head? He's just using you to drown out Seishirou-that bastard. That fucking bastard. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to rip his eyes out. I'm going to rip his dick off and shove it down his throat. Subaru, why the hell do you love him? I can't keep that stupid promise to you. I'm going to have to kill him myself. No-no, stop it. Kamui dropped his hand and dragged on the cigarette. Subaru still has the right to kill him. Don't be a selfish prick.

Subaru…

"…oh my goooood…" Kamui moaned and buried his head in his hand again. "What the hell did I get myself into?" he muttered to himself. "I should have waited… I should not have done that… it's not fair…"

"Whatever it was, life is too short for regret and waiting."

Kamui scrabbled to his feet and snubbed the cigarette out on the flat of the stairwell foundation. As soon as he had been snapped out of his thoughts by the voice, he had realized who was standing on the east side of the stairwell foundation and who was currently making his way around the concrete platform. Kamui's mind went white with rage. The early blinding-white of dawn glared around the man and rolled about his figure as he walked around toward Kamui, shifting and making him seem like some sort of black mirage.

Kamui clenched his good fist and seethed.

"Smoking is bad for you." Seishirou picked up the abandoned package of Wild 7's by Kamui's feet. Amid the raw dissociation of rage in Kamui's head he grasped a passing, flash-fantasy of kicking Seishirou square in the jaw, but the man straightened before he had a chance to act. The latter pulled a cigarette out of the package.

"Do you have a light?"

Kamui socked Seishirou under the jaw. Seishirou fell back and scrabbled on the edge of the platform as Kamui kicked him in the stomach and smashed his spine back into the concrete. He drove his heel into the older man's abdomen and ground his back into the wall, barely noting as a flash-awareness that he was covering his bleeding mouth and frantically gesturing for Kamui to stop, sunglasses falling askew over his nose, then concentrated on grinding the knots of his vertebrae into powder against the barrier. He lunged forward and smashed Seishirou's head back into the edge of the block with his knee. Seishirou screamed. His sunglasses jumped to the edge of his nose. Kamui grasped a handful of black hair and smashed his head repeatedly into the edge of the concrete.

"STOP-!"

"YOU-FUCKING-BASTARD-BASTARD-BASTARD-BASTARD-BASTARD-BASTARD-"

Kamui felt Seishirou spatter blood over his hand and choke on the blood that was dripping down his throat, screamed, and shoved Seishirou's head into the concrete one final time before jumping back and hurling energy at the man's abdomen. Seishirou spat a gratuitous amount of blood upon impact and fell on his side, curling and coughing pitifully. He was gasping and clutching his stomach and mouth. The lenses of his glasses had shattered. Kamui looked him over lazily and sidestepped in a semi-circle around him, repulsed.

"I'm not done with you yet."

Seishirou spat more blood onto the ground and wheezed. Kamui kicked him in the side.

"Worm. Why the hell aren't you fighting back?"

Seishirou choked and gasped several times. "…I didn't come here to fight you. I came to… talk."

"Bullshit! Fine, don't think I'll go easy on you! That was all for Subaru! I haven't even started on Fuuma yet!" Seishirou groaned. Kamui clenched his good fist, held his injured arm rigid, and gritted his teeth. He was starting to tear up. Oh my god, don't start crying now. You stupid pansy. STOP IT. "You bastard! Do you know what you did to him? He won't even let me touch him without him going insane and freaking out and crying and begging and-"

"You love him more, don't you?"

"WHAT?"

"…let us talk." Seishirou groaned and slowly started to pull himself up, wincing and gasping with protesting stabs of pain from his abdomen. He was still covering his bloody mouth and straightening his jagged sunglasses frames back over his eyes, useless though they were. Kamui clenched his fist tighter and kicked Seishirou under the jaw again. He felt teeth smash under his foot and grinned, gasping. Through tear-blurred vision he saw that his bare foot was smeared red. He shook his head vigorously and fought to keep some loose control over his already badly disassociated, adrenaline-infused awareness. He was vaguely aware that he was dangerously close to snapping and either ripping Seishirou's head clean off, or collapsing into a ball and screaming his own head off. He staggered backwards in a daze and shook his head, a motion as involuntary as the twitching spasms. His shoulder started to throb; Kamui dully acknowledged that he had probably rebroken it during his assault, but was well beyond the point of caring about such mundane details.

"…what?" he snapped. His head was buzzing. His muscles were loose and eager to continue assault. "What the hell do you have to say? I can't even stand to look at you right now. Your voice sickens me. Fucking hurry up or I'll-"

"I'm not your enemy."

"That's b-"

"I'm asking you to hear me out." Seishirou curled back onto his side to allow the blood to run out of his mouth and ran his fingertip gingerly across broken teeth. He grimaced and coughed. "…if you don't like what you hear, you can kill me."

Kamui gritted his teeth and growled. He was trying to control his breathing and heart rate to something lower than a manic level. He closed his eyes. He set up a null-barrier. That's why Subaru wasn't up here before I even noticed him. Subaru… god damn it, Subaru, you better be grateful for this…

"I don't have the right to kill you. That right belongs to my best friend."

"So he's just a friend now?"

"SHUT UP! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW?"

"Obviously enough to know that." Seishirou spat blood and tooth fragments and gave Kamui a crooked, mangled smile. "Don't give me that look. I always watch my Sumeragi. I always know when he's in some sort of… state of high emotion…"

"You fucking voyeurist."

"No, you didn't get all the way to home plate. Technically, I can't be-"

Seishirou flinched. Kamui had shifted his foot back as though seconds from kicking him under the jaw again. Kamui froze.

"…what's your point?"

"Everything Subaru knows about me is a lie."

"…what the hell?"

"Have you ever been willing to take guilt for the crimes somebody close to you committed while they weren't themselves so that they could live without that burden of guilt, even if they loathed you forever?"

Kamui froze. Kotori- "…the hell is your point?"

"I am sure Subaru has told you his story, the story about the three of us seven years ago-well, me, Subaru, and Hokuto."

"…he told me very little."

"Subaru thinks that I betrayed him and murdered his twin sister on the one-year anniversary of our meeting. It's a long story-I fabricated an elaborate yarn about a sakura tree and a bet somewhere along in there-but it was Subaru himself who killed Hokuto. He was under a spell. It's a long story."

Kamui stared at Seishirou. Seishirou was low staring across the roof, still resting on his side. He shifted his head to alleviate the odd pressure from his sunglasses frames against the side of his skull; they had been knocked that badly askew.

"…I altered his memory. It would be a plausible story for him to believe, since by heritage I am the Sakurazukamori and by nature an illusion master. I hid it from them for so long. I hated that damned title. I never acted upon it, but when it came time to convince Subaru that I was indeed the villain, I took on the mantle and started murdering so that he would believe that I was the ruthless assassin I showed him in his false memories. Everything in my life since then has been dedicated to making that illusion a reality so that Subaru would never have to face his guilt."

"That's such a load of shit."

"Why are you twitching so much? Are you afraid of ending up like me?"

"I'd gladly do it for him! Shut the fuck up! I don't care if he hates me forever, I'll tell him I murdered Kotori and murdered everybody and mauled and mangled and that I raped-HEY." Kamui kicked Seishirou into the wall. Seishirou yelled. "You fucking LIAR. That makes no sense at all! Why did you rape Fuuma? That has nothing to do with Subaru!"

"To bring him back to you."

"BULLSHIT!"

"Listen! I'm not done yet. Please, give me a chance to finish." Seishirou weakly held up his hand and gave another crooked, sad smile. Kamui held himself back. "If you are so thoroughly convinced that even when I tell you the truth it can't be so, I have done a good job with my ruse. I am satisfied. Nothing will break it. This is a testimony to my dedication."

"Oh shut up."

"We're one of a kind in this sense, Kamui."

"Shut up. Make your point NOW. All right, if all of this shit is true and you care about Subaru never finding out that much, why the hell are you telling me now? And what about Fuuma?"

"I wanted to end the war and give Fuuma back to you in thanks for all you have done for Subaru."

"…right."

"Listen, I grew up. I was twenty-five when I started all of this nonsense. Twenty-five and in love, at any rate; that constitutes a very stupid and rash young man. I learned the long way that I've done so much more damage with all of this nonsense, but I can't go back. You don't believe me, Subaru won't believe me, nobody will. And they shouldn't. I've taken every measure to make sure that nobody would. I-well, in the same way that nobody likes to be told 'you'll understand when you're older' at a young age, I went to lengths to make sure that when I became older and 'lost my clarity' I wouldn't be able to change my mind. But now I see that I now have that clarity. I did a good job of screwing myself and everybody over, permanently. I don't want you to make the same mistake, Kamui. It's not fair to you or Fuuma. In the long run, the truth will set you free, but first, it will hurt like hell. Your intentions are noble, but in the end, they cause a lot of needless pain. The most pleasant path isn't by default the wrong one. You have nothing to prove."

The adrenaline buzz in Kamui's head was wearing off. He warily sat down aside Seishirou on the platform and watched him from the corners of his eyes, squinting in the glaring dawn sunlight. Last night's clouds were burning off. His shoulder was giving him hell now.

"…and Fuuma? Why were you such a complete asshole to him? Do you know how fucked up he is now?"

"I am sorry that I kissed him in your presence. It didn't mean anything on either party's part. Yes, the… brutality (Seishirou winced, evidently in self-disgust), all of that was to maintain the façade. I had to be an asshole in front of you so that you wouldn't raise any suspicions of my true intentions to Subaru. If I could have awoken him… gently, I would have, and with the utmost and most professional respect. I've become rather accustomed to the concept of having to put a patient through momentary hell for the patient's good in the long run. It's not pleasant, but it has to be done. It is a long story, but Subaru has filled you in on how orgasms fit into this entire thing, I assume."

Kamui grimaced. "…they… woke him up."

"Well, when Subaru told you that he was 'possessed' by your shadow, he painted an inaccurate analogy. It's not possession so much as synchronization. Fuuma is the person closest to your heart, isn't he?"

"…I don't know."

"Only somebody that close could synchronize with your deepest inverse shadow."

"…what about all of the 'twin star' stuff?"

"Who knows? Maybe an inaccuracy in the legend-there are a surprising number of those in any fables and prophesies; things are usually far more left to human will than you would assume-but in a sense, you 'chose' Fuuma for this."

"But what about Kotori?"

"…why do you think she had to die? To prevent confusion?"

"But Monou-san-Monou Kyogo, that's Fuuma's dad-knew-"

"He'd watched you two grow up, I suppose. Or you were fated to fall in love, something like that. In any case, Fuuma could only synchronize with you if your hearts were that close."

"Then why not-"

"-earlier? I don't know. Maybe the moment at which you chose was the moment at which you chose to open your heart to the people you had been forcing away."

Kamui went silent. Seishirou tongued his broken eyetooth and coughed.

"…Kotori was acting really weird before she died," Kamui said quietly.

"Insane? Morbid?"

"…yes."

"Hm…"

"…I… had opened to Kotori before I opened to Fuuma because… for some reason, he was more intimidating, I guess. I don't know. I thought he'd think I was queer."

"Aren't you?"

"He's not. He can't be. He's too normal. And even if he was, he wouldn't look at me."

"I've heard all of this." Seishirou laughed weakly and groaned at the lance his abdominal muscles gave him in response. "Well, at least I've gotten you to listen to me."

"I as sure as hell don't trust you any more than I did."

"I know. You're a smart boy. You don't trust too easily. If I were you, I wouldn't trust me either."

"And I was keeping them away to keep them safe, you know. Oh my god." Kamui buried his head in his good hand. Why the hell am I even listening to this guy? Come on, Shirou, it's Sakurazuka Seishirou. Why the hell do you listen to a word he says? Maybe-well, it's plausible-NO. Maybe-NO. Stop it. Don't let it worry you-it's all lies-it doesn't all fit right- "All of this is my fault. God damn it, this all happened because I opened up to them. I was right to keep them away. I got weak and broke down. I just… I love them so much. I'm not as strong and selfless as everybody thinks I am. I'm-I'm like Subaru, we talked about this, I mean, we're both selfish in the sense that we only care about ourselves and the ones closest to us. I'm not a good person. I'm really only fighting for Fuuma. No, I… well, yeah, I care about everybody else so much, but I know I wouldn't go the distance for them I would for Fuuma. Not nearly. I'm so fucked up. I'm not strong enough to do what you're doing. And-what the hell? I don't trust you anyway, but, if I did… I'm just saying… the hell?" Kamui looked up sharply. "Why the hell am I pouring all of this shit out to you?"

"Maybe because we understand each other."

SHUT UP. I don't want to turn out like you. I'm not strong enough to handle it. STOP-he's LYING. But I still don't… even if he is, I don't want to end up like him… I can't take Fuuma hating me like that. "…oh my god, what do I do about Subaru?"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes, but… I don't know. I don't know anything." Kamui clutched his head again. "I'm so fucked up. I feel like I'm cheating him. He loves you. I can't love him like you do right now. I thought I could learn to-I mean, that's like what he was saying, he wanted us to move on-but I don't. Now Fuuma's back, and… oh my god, this is so messed up."

"I see."

"And why the hell am I talking to you?" Kamui jumped up and kicked Seishirou in the flank once again, but it was weaker than before. "Something about your story's not right. It sounds like a complete load of shit you thought up on your way over here."

"Life is painful and weird, truth is stranger than fiction, love makes idiots of rational men-take it any way that you want. There are many things I didn't tell you that would fill in some gaps, but I've told you what you need to know."

"Why? If you're so hell-bent on keeping this huge illusion, why the hell are you telling me?"

"You're not going to tell Subaru, are you?"

"…I…"

"Please, don't. Trust me, there's no going back. You'll make things worse. And I thought I told you. I don't want you to make the same mistake. And… as a debt of gratitude for all you have done for Subaru, I want to point you in the right direction, even if it hurts him. I think we had that same bit of selfishness. I mean, come on-murdering just to keep your loved one out of trauma? We're one and the same in a lot of ways. And then again, I can be a very possessive and jealous man. Of course, I have darker intentions about breaking you and Subaru up, selfish as it is, but I can ignore those so long as I channel my pure intentions to the fore." Seishirou closed his eyes and rested the side of his head on a patch of concrete that was shattered with shards of face-up, oil-brown glass. "If you ever feel like talking, or if you ever start to trust me whatsoever, come visit. I run Sakurazuka Veterinary Hospital in Shinjuku-Kabukicho."