prologue
*`-,--
"So you've chosen us."
Subaru lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, letting the smoke burn the back of his throat. The dim first glow of dawn, filtering across the ruins of Rainbow Bridge, made the little cloud he exhaled seem almost luminous.
"There was no choice to make, Monou-san." His voice sounded strangely hollow in his ears. "When I killed the Sakurazukamori, I took on the title, and being a Dragon of Earth goes along with that."
He could feel Fuuma's eyes moving steadily across his face--analysing him, perhaps? A few days ago he might have found that offensive, or laughable in a twisted way. Now he simply felt nothing beyond the reflex of intellect: stimulus, response, interpret.
"You could have gone back to the sidelines. You don't have to fight now."
"I don't care." He took another drag off the cigarette. "At any rate, I can't go back. What's done is--"
He was interrupted by a guttural chuckle. "Please. Cliches don't suit you, Sumeragi-san. I know why you've joined our side... and I have to say, it was a step in the right direction."
More of this cryptic shit, Subaru thought. Emotions aside, he was really getting sick of all the rhetorical trappings that went along with Destiny.
"Look, Monou-san, if you have something to say to me--"
"--yes, I know, I should cut to the chase." Fuuma folded his arms across his chest. "You're already aware that I have the ability to sense your innermost wish."
Subaru made a little noise of disgust. "I thought we already covered that when you ripped out my eye."
"Heh. That was what you wished for then... honestly, I should have expected that your wish would change."
"Well, it has." He shifted his weight a little, turning his attention to the pearl-grey clouds being tainted white and lavender by the slow sunrise. I have nothing to wish for, he mused. The dead don't come back to life. Destiny keeps steamrolling ahead. I have--
"You don't even know how, do you?" The Dark Kamui laughed once, a spurt of low sound. "You don't know what your own wish is now that it's changed. How fitting that a former representative of humanity should demonstrate humanity's ignorance of itself."
Subaru's eyes narrowed. This was getting very old very fast.
"I didn't ask for this position, and I didn't ask for you to come here and mess with my head, so if you don't--"
"Subaru."
Before he could turn away, he felt Fuuma's hand close over his wrist. He didn't respond; the touch inspired nothing in him.
"I can show you what you want most--I can give it to you, freely and without any conditions attached. As a gift for joining us, if you want to look at it that way."
Subaru took a last puff at the cigarette before letting it fall from his mouth.
"I don't want a gift. If you're going to do something to me, get it over with; I don't care. Just quit playing around."
The younger man's hand was moving up his arm now, trailing fingertips gently up his sleeve.
"This is your choice, then."
He didn't have time to react--quite suddenly Fuuma's hand was on his throat, pushing his head back; out of the corner of his good eye, Subaru could see the younger man's free hand curling slowly into a fist. How appropriate--he was going to kill him the way Seishirou hadn't been able to.
A dull ache gathered in his chest, pulsing once before the numbness took over again.
His eyelids drooped. Yes. This is my choice.
Fuuma smiled outright and plunged his fist into Subaru's heart.
For a very long moment, there was nothing. No rush of warmth or cold, no razor-edged twinge of hurt--just the same familiar sensation of emptiness. So this was death: nothing more than a quiet, emotionless fade-out before dawn.
His head tilted back. The sky above him was purple and peach, almost like the inside of a wet seashell.
And then the pain hit.
Searing, ripping, twisting--this was like fire and like a hurricane and like nothing his mind could take in. His consciousness warped in on itself, buckling with the sheer force of hurt. His senses blurred together, his memories slurred and re-wove themselves; in an instant he saw everything and nothing, every angle of time and possibility...
As if in a dream, he saw himself: the almost-sunlight stained his white coat pink as he arched back from the Dark Kamui. Another wave of pain hit, and his not-vision blurred furiously for a moment; when it cleared, he could see Fuuma drawing away ever-so-slowly, something grasped tightly in his hand. For a moment he wondered if it were his heart--and then, dimly, the sense of something not quite right registered.
He struggled to focus, to make his collapsing mind process what was happening. There was line and texture and the ironically soft colours of the sunrise--why was there no red? Why didn't he see the slick wetness of blood?
His attention flicked back to Fuuma as little razor-lines danced across his consciousness. The younger man's long, slender fingers, miraculously free of blood, were tightly clenched around something--it almost looked like Seishirou's shikigami, one dark wet wing hanging loosely in the Dark Kamui's grip.
No, wait. Feathers didn't curl like that. Feathers didn't have that damp sheen...
Subaru blinked. Leather?
The limp thing stirred slightly, and quite suddenly it made sense.
Fuuma's fingers were wrapped around a black-gloved hand.
no... nononono, that's impossible...
Your wish is to forget, Sumeragi Subaru. Fuuma's voice was a low, velvet purr inside his head. Your wish is to become tabula rasa, to forget everything that has ever hurt you--the Seals, the Angels, the Sakurazukamori and the man you loved.
He yanked, and the pain drove the Sakurazukamori to his knees, drawing a thin wet screech from his throat as a red and black and ivory blur smudged itself into the space above his chest.
Your wish is my command.
The sun, magnificently orange, surfaced at the edge of the city skyline and flooded Tokyo with light.
Subaru passed out.
*`-,--
"So you've chosen us."
Subaru lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, letting the smoke burn the back of his throat. The dim first glow of dawn, filtering across the ruins of Rainbow Bridge, made the little cloud he exhaled seem almost luminous.
"There was no choice to make, Monou-san." His voice sounded strangely hollow in his ears. "When I killed the Sakurazukamori, I took on the title, and being a Dragon of Earth goes along with that."
He could feel Fuuma's eyes moving steadily across his face--analysing him, perhaps? A few days ago he might have found that offensive, or laughable in a twisted way. Now he simply felt nothing beyond the reflex of intellect: stimulus, response, interpret.
"You could have gone back to the sidelines. You don't have to fight now."
"I don't care." He took another drag off the cigarette. "At any rate, I can't go back. What's done is--"
He was interrupted by a guttural chuckle. "Please. Cliches don't suit you, Sumeragi-san. I know why you've joined our side... and I have to say, it was a step in the right direction."
More of this cryptic shit, Subaru thought. Emotions aside, he was really getting sick of all the rhetorical trappings that went along with Destiny.
"Look, Monou-san, if you have something to say to me--"
"--yes, I know, I should cut to the chase." Fuuma folded his arms across his chest. "You're already aware that I have the ability to sense your innermost wish."
Subaru made a little noise of disgust. "I thought we already covered that when you ripped out my eye."
"Heh. That was what you wished for then... honestly, I should have expected that your wish would change."
"Well, it has." He shifted his weight a little, turning his attention to the pearl-grey clouds being tainted white and lavender by the slow sunrise. I have nothing to wish for, he mused. The dead don't come back to life. Destiny keeps steamrolling ahead. I have--
"You don't even know how, do you?" The Dark Kamui laughed once, a spurt of low sound. "You don't know what your own wish is now that it's changed. How fitting that a former representative of humanity should demonstrate humanity's ignorance of itself."
Subaru's eyes narrowed. This was getting very old very fast.
"I didn't ask for this position, and I didn't ask for you to come here and mess with my head, so if you don't--"
"Subaru."
Before he could turn away, he felt Fuuma's hand close over his wrist. He didn't respond; the touch inspired nothing in him.
"I can show you what you want most--I can give it to you, freely and without any conditions attached. As a gift for joining us, if you want to look at it that way."
Subaru took a last puff at the cigarette before letting it fall from his mouth.
"I don't want a gift. If you're going to do something to me, get it over with; I don't care. Just quit playing around."
The younger man's hand was moving up his arm now, trailing fingertips gently up his sleeve.
"This is your choice, then."
He didn't have time to react--quite suddenly Fuuma's hand was on his throat, pushing his head back; out of the corner of his good eye, Subaru could see the younger man's free hand curling slowly into a fist. How appropriate--he was going to kill him the way Seishirou hadn't been able to.
A dull ache gathered in his chest, pulsing once before the numbness took over again.
His eyelids drooped. Yes. This is my choice.
Fuuma smiled outright and plunged his fist into Subaru's heart.
For a very long moment, there was nothing. No rush of warmth or cold, no razor-edged twinge of hurt--just the same familiar sensation of emptiness. So this was death: nothing more than a quiet, emotionless fade-out before dawn.
His head tilted back. The sky above him was purple and peach, almost like the inside of a wet seashell.
And then the pain hit.
Searing, ripping, twisting--this was like fire and like a hurricane and like nothing his mind could take in. His consciousness warped in on itself, buckling with the sheer force of hurt. His senses blurred together, his memories slurred and re-wove themselves; in an instant he saw everything and nothing, every angle of time and possibility...
As if in a dream, he saw himself: the almost-sunlight stained his white coat pink as he arched back from the Dark Kamui. Another wave of pain hit, and his not-vision blurred furiously for a moment; when it cleared, he could see Fuuma drawing away ever-so-slowly, something grasped tightly in his hand. For a moment he wondered if it were his heart--and then, dimly, the sense of something not quite right registered.
He struggled to focus, to make his collapsing mind process what was happening. There was line and texture and the ironically soft colours of the sunrise--why was there no red? Why didn't he see the slick wetness of blood?
His attention flicked back to Fuuma as little razor-lines danced across his consciousness. The younger man's long, slender fingers, miraculously free of blood, were tightly clenched around something--it almost looked like Seishirou's shikigami, one dark wet wing hanging loosely in the Dark Kamui's grip.
No, wait. Feathers didn't curl like that. Feathers didn't have that damp sheen...
Subaru blinked. Leather?
The limp thing stirred slightly, and quite suddenly it made sense.
Fuuma's fingers were wrapped around a black-gloved hand.
no... nononono, that's impossible...
Your wish is to forget, Sumeragi Subaru. Fuuma's voice was a low, velvet purr inside his head. Your wish is to become tabula rasa, to forget everything that has ever hurt you--the Seals, the Angels, the Sakurazukamori and the man you loved.
He yanked, and the pain drove the Sakurazukamori to his knees, drawing a thin wet screech from his throat as a red and black and ivory blur smudged itself into the space above his chest.
Your wish is my command.
The sun, magnificently orange, surfaced at the edge of the city skyline and flooded Tokyo with light.
Subaru passed out.