Tokyo Babylon Fan Fiction / X/1999 Fan Fiction ❯ A Perfect Circle ❯ Brand New Hope ( Chapter 13 )

When you need a friend, don't look to a stranger,
You know in the end, I'll always be there.
But when you're in doubt, and when you're in danger,
Take a look all around, and I'll be there…[1]

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Fuuma padded down the dark hallway in his socks, fully dressed in sturdy, dark clothing, with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He had set his alarm to wake him at 2:00 AM, and in order not to wake his roommate, Kamui-whenever he got back from wherever he was-he had put the alarm on buzz and placed it under his pillow. The alarm had startled Fuuma went it went off. He had yelped, then jerked, and the device had crashed to the floor loudly enough, it seemed, to wake half the campus, but Kamui was still not in the room in the first place, and nobody else indicated that he or she had awoken. Fuuma had packed and thrown his bag in the corner earlier, hiding his schoolbooks under his bed so that people would assume it was crammed with school supplies, and had folded his traveling clothes under his pillow just before he went to sleep.

So far, things were going well. Nobody was awakening, which was lucky considering that he was sneaking past priests and priestesses who had been trained from birth to sense odd behavior around them. Their instincts would be the hardest thing to slip past. Fuuma clicked his tongue slightly and sighed, forcing himself to think on having all of his supplies instead of dwelling on what he was doing and making his presence known. He had packed changes of clothes and needed personal items, his medicine, prescriptions so he could forge when he needed refills, selected photographs, a couple of recreational books, and his CD player and CD wallet. All the cash he had was in his wallet, which ended up being a sturdy amount, along with all of his IDs and needed cards, and a key to Togakushi Shrine. He could not take the cell phone the school's president had supplied, since they knew his number and could probably also physically track him with it, for all he knew, but he had change for pay phones. Problem is they can track your location that way. Whatever; you're not calling back anyway. Do not look back, Fuuma. This is the right thing to do. You're a time bomb. You do not deserve to stay here any longer.

His memory of all of the things he did as Dark Kamui had slowly and fully been restored ever since he had 'reawakened', as people kept calling it, and he had spent days on end in stupors piecing his memories into a coherent state. Some memories were vivid, feverish picture-montages, while others were far more vivid and sensory. In the latter sort of memory, he could feel metal biting bone and flesh, hear and feel screams and people writhing on the end of his sword, and, in one case, feel vertebrae snapping and tendons popping as he ripped a head clean off of its body. In the slow decapitation case, his victim had made the most hideous, pitiful, agonized noises, nearly silent since the victim was so terrified and in so much pain that he had no breath to scream properly. Fuuma sometimes felt ghosts of the boy's desperate grip on his wrists as he wrenched the head off. He remembered pulling Subaru's head back by its hair and puncturing Subaru's eye with his fingers, which was akin to popping an incredibly thick grape. Subaru had not made a sound, but Fuuma could feel tremors of him fighting to control agonized wails through the back of his socket. He was able to stroke ocular nerves and cones, rods, and fluids in the mangled eye before he pulled his fingers out through the ragged flesh. Fuuma was unable to look Subaru in the eye after he had redeemed this memory, and he had settled into one of his deeper stupors when he was passing the bathroom and heard Subaru hissing in agony the first time he had to dislodge his glass eye and clean it.

And then, there was the memory of Kotori… God, that memory haunted at night. He remembered the blade going through ribcage and flesh until it cut through the iron cross like butter; he remembered pulling the network of wires and slicing through flesh and bone, the feeling of going through tracheal tissue and vertebrae tendons being a prominent sensation. He had never heard somebody scream as loudly and brokenly has Kamui had screamed that day, and the scream tended to punctuate his dreams and mirror his own as soon as he awoke, drenched in sweat, sobbing, and tangled in his sheets with Kamui standing over him in his nightclothes. The only memories that were not intact and vivid were those of the rape, and those progressively got more and more blurry as time passed. He could barely remember what his assailant looked like anymore beyond having dark hair, which was not difficult to find in Japan, and his memory that there was some sort of consent or deal involved somewhere along the lines was now doubtful. What remained was a strong aversion to human contact. At least he had tested clean for STDs.

Fuuma had intermittently broken down and cried hysterically, sometimes in such a state that he was curled up on the floor and clawing his head. He was beyond shame for showing his emotions so openly, something which would have seemed to him under normal circumstances as a gross breach of self-control. The Dragons of Heaven had always been gentle and took what appropriate actions they could to see that he did not hurt himself, but allowed him to cry for as long as he desired. Yuzuriha often started crying herself when Fuuma was upset and would cradle his head and stroke his hair when he was loose enough to uncurl, and Sorata would sometimes support Fuuma on his shoulder and mutter friendly, soothing words along the lines of "It's all right, bro. Just get it all out. Real men know when to cry…" The time he had been in hysterics when Seiichirou and Karen had come to visit, Karen had cradled his head and sang softly to him for a long time in mellow, alto tones, and Seiichirou had covered him with his jacket and rubbed his shoulders soothingly when Karen had noted that he was shivering. Arashi and Subaru had little, reserved ways of caring, though Fuuma detected a certain icy detachment in Subaru, though he couldn't blame Subaru considering that he was the reason the onmyouji was going blind, and in all situations, it was a given that Kamui was overseeing things and doing everything that he thought was possible to help. Fuuma often found a cup of tea pushed under his nose as soon as he was coherent enough to sit up, and he often fell into a dead, dreamless asleep after drinking anything they offered him.

Fuuma shrugged off edge-buzzing, impending thoughts of guilt and pity over his degenerate and fallen state. He could not allow his mind to become burdened. He would be far easier to sense that way. He paused atop the stairs and listened, trying to sense if anybody was downstairs watching TV or scrounging for a midnight snack. He thought for a moment. He knew the nature of kind people such as these; they would try to track him down, and CLAMP Campus would use every one of their abundant resources to help them. He frowned. Right, they were all super-human, the campus could get information on whatever it wanted, and it was not as if Fuuma did not stand out in the first place. He inwardly cursed his abnormal height and eye color and padded down to the living room. If he did not at least give leaving his best shot, he would never be able to live with himself.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Fuuma swore. The lights went on, and Kamui lowered his hand from the light switch on the wall behind him. He was sitting in a plush chair edged adjacent with the kitchen doorjamb with his chin on one hand, obviously irritated and tired. Fuuma stared and shifted his backpack to his other shoulder awkwardly.

"Hey, Kamui."

"…hey." Kamui blinked, watching him warily. Things had been awkward between them ever since Fuuma had returned, and their conversations since their initial conversation in the hospital had been, to the best of Fuuma's memory, reduced to small talk and frequent inquiries about his health. They had not had one real conversation since then, though Fuuma knew a great deal of that was his fault for being listless and unwelcoming. He sighed.

"How did you know I was coming?"

"I have my sources. Put that bag down. You're not going anywhere."

"I have to-"

"Don't you even start with me. I know what you're going to say. Sit."

Fuuma glanced around the room, dropped his bag, and sat in the closest facing armchair. He looked around awkwardly, and then lowered his eyes, wondering whether or not he should just break and run or hear Kamui out. I know what he's going to say. He'll say everything and anything about how it's not your fault, etc, but you cannot let yourself be swayed. You have to leave. This is for his sake, Fuuma. Don't be selfish. But this might be your final goodbye…

"I am leaving no matter what you say, Kamui."

"You can't!" Fuuma looked up. Kamui's calm expression was cracking. "You… can't, Fuuma. I won't let you! I refuse to let you go! Not now! You belong here! You're just being stupid; you can't honestly think that leaving would be the best for everybody!"

"Kamui," he said patiently, "I'm dangerous. Arashi-san seems to be the only one who is willing to agree with that."

"Did she tell you to leave?"

"No, but she has implied-"

Kamui stood up. "I'll kill her-"

"No, you will not." Fuuma stood and gently pushed Kamui back into his chair. "Listen. I would have left anyway, because I agreed with her on this before we even talked. It isn't fair for me to stay here. You all have already sacrificed so much and taken care of me, and this is the least I can do for you now. Especially after… all I did…"

"SHUT UP!"

"Shhhh!"

"No, shut up! That was me! That was all me! Not you!" Kamui crossed his arms and glared sidelong at the floor. Fuuma sat back down and watched. "…if anything, I'm the danger. That sick stuff came from inside my head."

"We all have that inside us, Kamui. You were just unlucky enough to be the one to have it projected without your consent."

"What, did Subaru tell you that shit?"

"All right, so… it's none of our faults, all right? I know that." Fuuma swallowed. "It's not fair. I've pouted and pitied myself over that enough. I was just unlucky, and regardless of that, I am still the volatile one. I don't want to leave, Kamui, but I don't feel clean staying here. It's just not right after all I did. I mean, I know it wasn't really… me, but it was my hand…"

"Oh, shut up. I'm willing to take the risk to have you here."

Fuuma arched his eyebrows. Kamui was still glaring at the wooden floor.

"…you would be willing to do that to yourself?"

"You're so dense, Fuuma." Kamui mumbled. "You are so fucking dense."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Fuuma thought for a moment. "… but, regardless of that, and it does mean a lot to me, it's… well, more than I deserve, considering, but…"

"Kotori would want it too."

"And look at where it got her," Fuuma snapped. He clenched his fists and pressed them into his eyes, swallowing a forming pain in his throat. He took a shuddering breath. No. No, do not start this now. You've cried your heart and soul out over her already. Not in front of Kamui. Do not do this. It's over.

"I know she would rather die by your hand than be apart from you," said Kamui.

"Kamui, come on." Fuuma fought to keep his voice level. "It wasn't an issue or a choice until it happened."

"I'm making an example! I'm saying… like, if she could have known… she would make the same choice as me."

"How do you know?"

"I just do, Fuuma!"

"And the other people here? Have you considered them? They're in danger too, Kamui."

"They would say the same thing. They all like you, no matter what you did. Because… well, you didn't do anything. That was a monster using your body. You, I mean Monou Fuuma, they all love."

"Kamui, come on, stop it. You know this is a bunch of bullshit. Be reasonable."

"YOU be reasonable!"

"You are the last person on earth to give lectures about being reasonable."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you-"

"Wow, you really haven't changed at all. Well, all right, you've changed a lot since stuff started happening. You're… I don't know…" Fuuma looked up and blinked rapidly to keep from tearing up. "…more mature." Kamui snorted. "I'm serious; I just don't know how to explain it. You're… more emotional."

"More emotional?"

"I'm trying to say something, all right? You're… argh, I don't know." Fuuma glanced at Kamui, who was now scowling. "Look, could we please just not fight over this right now? I don't want my last conversation with you to be like this."

"This is not going to be our last conversation! Don't talk like that!"

"…how have you been doing?"

Kamui paused warily and took a deep breath, thinking. "…fine. Just, fine. You?"

"You haven't been acting fine." Fuuma settled back in the chair and rested his chin on his hand. "We haven't really talked ever since you got back to Tokyo, at all. I mean, at first you were locked up and standoffish, and when you finally opened up to me so much was going on that we didn't have time to talk about anything but the battles. I guess when wars end we have leisure to talk about everyday things again."

"…what do you mean?"

"What happened to you? It's been… what, nine years since we really just talked? What happened in your life up north? How have you changed; what have you seen and learned? What do you want to talk about?"

Kamui blinked, poleaxed. Fuuma shrugged.

"I… made varsity basketball freshman year."

"I know. I went to a game last year, if you remember."

"Yeah, that's right. I know it was just because I was so tall, so I spent every day after school practicing so that I would have the skills to really do something for the team."

"But you're so good."

"Yeah, well, that's three seasons of busting my ass. It didn't come naturally. People think that I have a natural knack for any sports, but I don't. I'm a fast runner, but when it came to shooting… I couldn't hit building in front of me for the longest time."

"That's kind of funny."

"Yeah, which is why I didn't make the team at CLAMP Campus. They're all naturally brilliant. I just couldn't compete."

"Yeah, in more ways than one. Don't you love being at the bottom of the class?"

"Yeah, and all this time I thought I was pretty bright."

"You're smarter than me; shut up."

"You just never studied. You don't know that. Well, anyway, here I really am the meathead jock, and not even much of a jock at that." He thought for a moment. "You know, that's kind of depressing. I'm repeating my second year and I'm at the bottom of the class."

"Well, that means that you get to be in my class."

"Yeah, the company is good." He smiled at Kamui, and Kamui smiled back. What. Am. I. Doing? I have to leave. Do not get comfortable. "I'm just glad the school let me enter even with such a sloppy record and having to repeat a year for extended truancy. It's not as though I had a good excuse for it, either. I was being a bad boy. You know, destroying the world."

"Imonoyama pulled some strings for you." A flicker of sadness crossed Kamui's features. Fuuma cursed himself for even mentioning his alternate identity. "The campus has been incredibly generous to us…"

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But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you...[1]

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"He should leave."

"Nee-chan, stop it."

"He was making the right decision." Arashi crossed her arms and looked around the stairwell corner into the living room where Kamui and Fuuma were talking with growing comfort. She and Sorata were both in nightclothes and had been listening in on the entire conversation. "And the closer he gets to Kamui, the greater the risk of having him snap back to what he was. They have no idea how delicate this balance is."

"I think if Kamui-kun is willing to take the risk, we should support him. The poor kid's had his entire life ripped apart at the seams, Nee-chan. We can at least give him his friend back."

"Oh, and what about everybody else in the house?"

"What's a little danger amid friends for the sake of love?"

Arashi sighed and walked back up the stairs. Sorata followed her.

"Nee-chan, come on…"

"You're so immature."

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I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
And if I had to walk the world, I'd make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will…[1]

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"You're not serious."

"Yeah, I am."

"I'm sorry; that just doesn't seem like the Kamui I used to know at all."

"Well, you know, we all grow up. I kind of went hard. Some stuff was going on in my life, you know?"

"…you got into fights with motorcycle gangs."

"Yeah. I was a real little punk for a long time. There were times when I showed up for school maybe three times a week, no joke. I usually hung out under the local bridge and smoked. I quit, though. But you know what I was really doing under that bridge most of the time? Reading and daydreaming. Hardcore, ain't it?"

Fuuma smiled. "Kotori predicted that you might still be a bookworm. I didn't really believe her, but… huh. You know, I still am too."

"We should start borrowing books from each other again."

"Do you have any scars or anything? You know, from your glorious gangster life?"

"No. I heal too damn fast, and I always won anyway."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Hey! I can put up a fucking good fight."

"Because you can use magic."

"Yeah… so?" Kamui snorted. "There's nothing wrong with using what you have in a fight."

"In short, you don't mind fighting dirty."

"Nope."

"So, is that where you learned to cuss so badly?"

"Come on! I'm not that bad."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Every other word out of your mouth is 'fuck'."

"Hey!" Kamui pointed at Fuuma and leaned back in his chair. "I've gotten fucking better! I don't cuss so fucking much anymore! I'm fucking clean now! I don't even fucking smoke!"

Fuuma started laughing. Kamui grinned and laughed as well. They had both loosened up to the point that everything was funny, just for that sake alone. Come on, Fuuma thought. You have to get out of here. Stop the party.

"Hey…" said Kamui. "We've been talking for three straight hours."

"That's it? It feels more like half an hour."

"I know! And I still have so much I have to tell you! Hey." Kamui nodded out the window. "See, the sun is starting to rise."

"Yeah." Shit. Almost everybody around here is an early riser; they'll be up soon. I'm not going to get out of here tonight. The campus will be too well lit soon. Somebody will ask questions. For all I know they have a Monou Fuuma Watch program in place. Damn it. Kamui, you've ruined it.

"Damn, we have to be at school in a few hours," said Fuuma.

"I'm not going to class today."

"Yeah."

Fuuma watched Kamui. The latter was tapping his fingers on the chair arm, impatient about something, and staring out the windows surrounding the back door. Dawn was beginning to cast light on the burgundy room. The shadows stood out in sharper relief. The midnight-blue sky was edging pale purple.

"…what are you thinking about?"

"Hm. Oh, nothing." Kamui blinked and continued to stare outside. "Fuuma, are you gay?"

"…what?"

"I mean, I'm not asking because you act like it or anything-actually, I'm asking because you don't-but I was just wondering. It seems like everybody I know all of a sudden is queerish in some way. You know, bi or something."

"…seriously?"

"Yeah. Well, are you?"

"Yes."

Kamui's eyes widened. Fuuma blinked and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I… well, I'm bisexual. Yeah. Weird, huh? I never really brought it up, because… do you think it's-"

"No! No, no, it's perfectly fine!" Fuuma jerked, startled. Kamui whirled in his seat and leaned forward. "I'm the same!"

"No way. Seriously?"

"I'm… yeah, that's great! I was afraid you'd think I was a creep!"

"What? God, no. Not you. It doesn't matter to me, or wouldn't even if I was straight. You're just Kamui, you know?"

"Just… Kamui?"

"But… huh, that's odd. I had an idea, but…" Fuuma gave a low whistle. "What are the odds? I'm the only one I've ever known. I had no idea you were bi."

"Great! See, we still have a lot to learn about each other!" Kamui was grinning. Fuuma gave him an awkward smile in return. "Which means that you are staying. There's just no question about it anymore. There's no point in running, Fuuma. I'll track you down. I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. You know I can do it."

"You certainly make tall promises."

"I'm in the mood to make tall promises. I'm in the mood to do things that I would kick myself for doing later. In short, I'm in a mood."

"Do things such as what?"

Kamui shrugged and stood up. Fuuma yawned and stretched his linked hands above his head.

"Well, I should probably get dressed and run my laps-"

He opened his eyes and tilted his head straight. Kamui was nose-to-nose with him. Fuuma blinked and made a small noise of question in the back of his throat.

"Um… Kamui?"

Kamui took a deep breath and slid his fingers through Fuuma's black hair to cradle his head. Fuuma shuddered impulsively and screwed his eyes shut, drawing back. He had a brief flashback of somebody holding his head in the same manner, accompanied by the sensation that he was on a bed. It made his stomach crawl. He twitched his face away.

"Fuuma…" Kamui said quietly.

"What are you doing?"

"…fuck it."

"Kamui!-"

Kamui pressed his lips into Fuuma's, keeping them closed, then pulled away and untangled his hands from Fuuma's hair. Fuuma opened his eyes and gave a small bark of shock. He blinked rapidly to clear his head of the flashbacks. Kamui stood over him, hands out as though expecting to have to hold Fuuma together somehow, expression rapidly degenerating from determined to horrified. He glanced up the stairwell and froze.

"Oh… shit." Kamui said quietly.

"…um…uh…" Fuuma glanced up the vacant stairwell. "…huh?"

Kamui balked, took hesitant steps toward the staircase, turned, and rushed out the back door with a hurried and vague promise that he would be back. Fuuma made a late noise of protest and reached feebly after Kamui, then allowed his hand to drop and flopped back into the chair. His mind was full of static.

"…what the hell just happened?"

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And if I had to walk the world, I'd make you fall for me…

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Subaru pivoted at the lip of the stairwell and walked back into the hallway, fighting an impulse that felt like the need to vomit. His nerves were just beginning to register the information and degenerate. He attempted to maintain his bland, initial shock long enough to walk back to his room in one piece.

That is the last time I trust my instincts when they tell me to walk downstairs. All right. You didn't just see that. You did not just see that. You did not just see that…

He subconsciously retrieved the image that had greeted him upon turning the corner in the stairwell and stopped, taking a steadying breath. He stared at the ground and felt the rough texture of the white wall, running his fingers up and down the grain. His heart started pounding painfully.

Oh my god. I knew it all along.

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[1] When in Rome - "The Promise"