Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles belongs to CLAMP

Support the mangakas and purchase the manga as it becomes available.

Warnings: This is the sequel to "Torturing Seishirou Is Fun" crackfic I wrote a while ago

This was dedicated to Uakari because you inspired most of this in one way or another –Wow, I haven't been writing in months and because of you playing muse and Aija's comment prompting me to consider a sequel I finished this in an afternoon. 3

-Torturing Seishirou Is Fun II-

Seishirou wasn't sure at what point he had closed his eyes, the lids squeezed tightly together, or when he had rolled himself to his side (no need to curl into a ball though, the ropes deftly ensured that), he only knew that the balls of fluffy canine fur that he had heard yipping seemed to be taking an inordinately long time in arriving.

In fact, as he lay on the unnaturally soft and fragrant grass contemplating his miss spent life he began to notice that there was something distinctly peculiar about the sounds. The yips not only weren't getting closer, but seemed to be rather – repetitive? No, he corrected himself as drool from the ball gag dribbled down his chin; it wasn't just repetitive it sounded choreographed. Were these then Heaven's Hounds of Light and Goodness? Sent to act as shards of glass coated with salt to tear apart what little remained of his psyche? That had to be it because as he gave an experimental hum in the back of his throat in time with the barks a very distinct tune became evident…

'Damn it!' he cursed mentally, the words resolving themselves into a line of lyric in his mind, "I wanna see your peacock, -cock -cock"

WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE!

Seishirou ceased all movement, perhaps even breathing. No matter how much Heaven desired to punish him for the things he and their little darling Subaru did, it was impossible they would go to this extent. No, there was only one person in any dimension who would do this to him.

Reluctantly, he cracked on an eye, the sight of a four leaf clover poking out of the grass and blocking his vision the only thing to greet him -damn mage and his field of happy things- with a muffled and slightly gurgled sigh he twisted his head to look upwards.

Fuuma was seated cross-legged no more than a few feet from him, half of his younger brother's face was obscured by a video camera, but that did nothing to hide the wide grin that had pulled his face into an exaggerated caricature of glee. Seishirou's eyes narrowed, as they locked onto a small black device that, with the aid of a pair of miniature speakers, was emitting the foul pestilence of a song made worse by the hoard of puppies yapping out their cover it.

Fuuma's chortle from behind the video camera sent Seishirou into a frenzy of rolling and deep growls that maintained all the murderous intent he desired despite the gag and bonds holding him. He no longer cared that he had recently been humiliated by the disregard the fawns and rabbits had given these actions minutes earlier; his brother knew what he was capable of.

Fuuma's laughter rolled out from low in his belly as he watched his brother's flailings. This was more than worth the favor he was going to owe Fai for telling him about Seishirou's punishment. A few more minutes of video and he would have enough footage to show Kamui and that would earn him a prize more valuable than any price Seishirou could pay to prevent the video from being sent to everyone he could think of. "Tut, tut, brother dear," Fuuma said with a click of his tongue and a sardonic twist of his words. "I can't do anything to help you if you keep threatening to turn me into fertilizer with this poisonous miasma you're exuding. Or if you keep rolling about like Watanuki dosed in itching powder."

Seishirou gave a final disgusted snort before ceasing his still ineffectual rolling. 'Like I'd use a disgustingly masculine thing like you to nourish my garden,' he thought adding an eye roll to convey his unspoken words to Fuuma despite his severely limited ability to communicate.

Fuuma gave another small laugh. "Don't be petulant," he admonished Seishirou.

'Creepy little jerk,' Seishirou thought, the tone of his thoughts most definitely did not have a petulant cast to them. 'At least stop filming long enough to untie me.'

"I have an offer for you nii-san," Fuuma said his voice as cordial as that of a shopkeeper's with a valued customer.

Seishirou felt a cold coil of dread grip his bowels- was Fuuma still upset about… that? Reaching behind his back Fuuma brought out a plate with a large slab of cake covering most of its surface. The sweet smell of processed sugar assaulted Seishirou's nose and bile stung his throat as he eyed the brilliant pink frosting that covered the cake's surface. 'There's more frosting than cake!' was Seishirou's distressed thought as he tried to recoil from the plate Fuuma was forcing so close to his face that when it was pulled back the end of his nose was left coated in hot pink icing.

"If you eat this cake I will help you out of this little predicament," Fuuma continued, ignoring Seishirou who was busily shaking his head in denial and had renewed his efforts to reach the elusive cord that would undo the ropes. "See oni-chan, when we had dinner last you were sooo generous in treating me to your homemade fried chicken I just have to repay you," Fuuma finished, the stressed words proving his pleasant tone was a lie.

Seishirou glared at his now unwanted companion. He was not going to dignify this with any sort of response. He had no idea his brother could be so- sensitive.

"Oh, but you can't answer can you? Let me help you with that for free," Fuuma said happily as he expertly flicked the buckles on the ball gag open.

Seishirou quickly pushed the wedged ball from his mouth with his tongue and spit the excess saliva in his brother's general direction. Giving a roll of his jaw he snapped at Fuuma, "Stop acting like Kamui! If people taste like chicken then it stands to reason that chicken tastes like people. It's not as though I have eaten anyone, that's just what I heard. You're the one with a propensity for lapping blood off people like its chocolate sauce."

Fuuma leaned over Seishirou moving the camera aside in favor of giving him the full force of his expression. "Thanks to you I can't look at a leg of fried chicken without imagining Kamui's succulent appendages. I haven't been able to eat chicken since and do you have any idea what this is doing to my dreams. If this keeps up I'm going to be as much of a mess as Subaru and that clone with their eye snacking."

Seishirou gave Fuuma's statements a momentary consideration before replying. "Just untie me and I'll make you a batch of the batter I use and the next time you see him you can indulge yourself however you want."

"I have a better idea. Eat the cake," Fuuma said happily, sitting back to pan the camera over the scene.

"No."

Silence and a triumphant smirk met Seishirou's declaration.

"No."

The smirk became a predatory grin.

"Fine. Let. Me. Go. And. I'll. Eat. It." Seishirou said, the words grinding their way out from between clenched teeth.

Fuuma held up a finger waging it back and forth. "Na, na, my dearest sibling. Eat the cake first, but before you start arguing again remember if you don't I will leave you here and this song will be on repeat the entire time. The player by the way is a Piffle product and produces its own power."

"How do you expect me to eat anything when I'm tied up like this?"

Fuuma gave a self-satisfied laugh, "You're intelligent I'm sure you'll think of something."

-XXXXXXX-

The afternoon sun was fading into twilight when Fuuma helped Seishirou across the meadow, the return of unimpeded circulation to his limbs leaving Seishirou limping. The camera with its precious video was carefully stored away while the player lay in shattered pieces behind them, the victim of Seishirou's impotent anger.

The air in front of the brothers shimmered briefly as a kindly looking woman walked through a portal pushing a wheel barrel before her. "Karen!" Fuuma called happily in greeting.

Karen blinked in surprise and then gave smile in return. "Fuuma I didn't expect to see you here," she said as she tucked a stray hair under her head scarf.

"Just picking up my nii-san," he answered with a nod toward Seishirou who had continued to trudge in the direction of the portal they were to use. "What brings you here?"

Karen's expression underwent a drastic transformation shifting from that of kindly baker to one of stern disapproval. "Him!" she snapped, a finger pointing imperiously at the unconscious figure in the wheel barrel. "Do you have any idea what I caught him doing to my son with MY PASTERIES?" The final two words were spoken with such fierceness that Fuuma quickly surmised that whatever the man in question had been doing to her son wasn't as great of a sin as the fact that he had done them with her baked goods.

"Well," he said quickly glancing in Seishirou's direction. "I'll leave you to it. Here I have some extra rope you can have."

"Thank you Fuuma. Make sure to stop by next time you are around and I'll make you something special in return." Karen told him as she continued her way toward the center of the meadow.

Seishirou had paused in front of the portal to wait for Fuuma when he heard the unmistakable sound of kittens' mewlings. With a shudder Seishirou gave a shake of his head. "Poor fool," he muttered before quickly stepping through the portal. Screw his brother he wasn't going to stick around to see what this hellish Care-A-Lot had in store for the sop in the wheel barrel.

Author's Notes:

Want to know what Nezumi was doing to Sion with Karen's baked goods? Then go read Uakari's fic 'Jam Packed': http :/ www .fan fiction .net /s/7838785/1/

The reference chicken tasting like humans is from Eddie Izzard's "Dress to Kill" - watch it