Based on the story: Getbackers

Based on the story: Getbackers

Written by: aoi kodomo

Full Summary: The Getbackers finally get their hands on a mission they can really sink their teeth into. However, when the spiritual world starts to cross with reality, will the duo be able to tell the difference between what's real and what's not? Does the ability to communicate with the dead really exist?

Author's Note: All characters of Getbackers are copyright to Rando Ayamine and Yuya Aoki. Any additional characters are copyright to me.

Rating: T

Get Back the Sacred Jewel

Chapter Eighteen: Fragments of Truth

"Ryuumei … Ryuumei …"

Ginji opened his eyes, squinting against the penetrating sunlight. His back was pressed against something hard, uneven, and he shuffled his weight slightly. He brought a hand up to his forehead, blocking out half of the light, and concentrated hard on the figure standing before him.

The figure gazed down at him, one hand placed elegantly in his coat pocket. He smiled, and Ginji felt an odd sensation of kind warmth looking down at him from his brown eyes. His hair was long and unnaturally wavy, but he had it neatly tied back, and he brushed a flyaway strand from his face before reaching a large hand out to Ginji.

"Ryuumei," his voice was deep, soft, and Ginji felt drawn to it.

Ginji looked at the hand but didn't take it. He frowned; unsure what he had been doing before.

The man laughed. It resonated delicately in Ginji's ears.

"Ryuumei," he repeated, the chuckle rising within his voice. "You shouldn't run off like that. I get worried."

"I was sleeping," Ginji replied. His blinked at his own voice; sounding so innocent, so childlike.

"Oh really?" The man cocked an eyebrow, a crooked smile on his face. He gestured for Ginji to take his hand. "Well it's a good job I found you then. C'mon, on your feet. I haven't got much time."

Ginji took his hand, his own just fitting snugly into the man's palm. As the man pulled him to his feet he saw that the hard thing he'd felt pressed into his back had been the rough edge of a tree bark he'd been leaning against. He stood up straight and glanced around the large garden, noticing the other trees surrounding them. Ginji spotted one with a swing and felt his face lit up. Looking closely he saw children taking it in turns to climb the large branches, but the swing remained free.

"Can I go over there?" he asked the man eagerly, his eyes pleading for permission.

The man chuckled a second time, holding Ginji's hand securely for the fear he might run off again. "You'll have plenty of time for that."

Ginji's face dropped.

You'll have plenty of time for that … he heard the man's voice repeat again inside his head.

You'll have plenty of time for that … Plenty of time …

"I'm going to be here a while, aren't I?" he asked the man, tilting his head to the ground and shuffling his feet across the dense grass.

The man squeezed his fingers tightly, his face suddenly turning serious. "Yes," he said, and Ginji heard his voice constrict as he spoke. "But you'll be happy here, and they're kids your own age –"

"But what if I don't like it?" Ginji interrupted. His gaze focused on a bump in the grass, jutting out by the tree's roots, and he tapped it absentmindedly with the tip of his shoe, his head facing down. "Will you … come and get me?"

The man looked at him. For a moment he said nothing, his expression solemn, and then he knelt down to Ginji's level. When Ginji didn't look up he gently lifted his chin with his finger, urging him to meet his eyes. The man studied him, almost regretfully, as though he didn't want to leave Ginji here at all. Up close Ginji could see the worn expression he carried from a sleepless night. He smiled at Ginji, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

"If you don't like it," he said earnestly, "then I will come and get you."

Ginji felt the tears prick harshly at the corner of his eyes. He shook his head; the man's hand moved as he held Ginji's chin gently between his fingers. "I don't like it," he said quickly. "Can I go with you now?"

The man shook his head in reply. "No. You have to at least try it first. When I visit at Christmas you can tell me then if you don't like it."

"But that's forever away!"

The man laughed under his breath, amused. He leaned closer, his nose almost touching Ginji's. "It's only a month."

Ginji snorted. "It's forever."

"Ryuumei, you'll enjoy it here." The man stood up. His tall frame loomed over Ginji, his torso level with Ginji's head, but Ginji felt security in that height and found himself moving closer to him. "Just give it a shot. For me, okay?"

Ginji sighed, knowing that the case was closed; he couldn't argue against it any more. "Okay."

"Good." The man smiled and squeezed his hand once more. "Let's hurry, then. There's someone I want you to meet." He lead Ginji away from the garden, holding his hand delicately in his own, as though if he applied any more pressure Ginji's fingers would break.

Ginji followed him slowly, looking back at the swing. A child was lying across it on his stomach, laughing as he swung himself back and forth. Ginji sighed. I wanted to go on it before they did, he thought, disappointed. It looked like fun, but he didn't want to ask the other kids if he could have a go. He was told he'd soon grow out of his shyness here, but right now Ginji felt the opposite, and he walked as close as he could to the man in front.

The man came to a halt next to the large gates, the gates they had walked through earlier. Ginji bumped into the man's back, unawares that he had stopped.

The man laughed. "Ryuumei, watch where you're going," he joked. He tugged Ginji's hand until Ginji was stood in front of him and placed his hands securely on Ginji's shoulders. He stepped forward, shuffling Ginji along with him, and spoke to a man stood at the gate. "Mr. Tokuma. I'd like you to meet my son, Ryuumei."

Ginji blinked and looked up.

Mr. Tokuma looked back down at Ginji, meeting his gaze. He was tall, taller than the man behind Ginji, and instead of a head full of wavy hair, his was thinning drastically and almost looked white in the glaring light of the sun. His eyes were brown, but not nearly as nice as the warm ones that Ginji had first seen when he'd woken up. These were smaller, and one seemed to stay directly locked onto Ginji whilst the other moved from side to side, as though spying on the other children across the garden. His clothes were ragged and at first thought Ginji assumed he was leaning over to get a closer look at him, but after a while it appeared to be his body was permanently situated in that posture.

Ginji looked away, knowing it was rude to stare at someone but not wanting to hold his gaze any longer. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he mumbled, remembering what the man had taught him to say.

Mr. Tokuma let out a slow breath that sounded more like a snort. "I see. So this is our new arrival, the infamous Ryuumei I've heard so much about?" His voice was gruff, with no hint of emotion, and Ginji found himself pressing back further into the warmth of the man's coat, almost trying to disappear in it.

"Yes." The man squeezed Ginji's shoulders reassuringly. "I trust you'll take good care of him as I've asked." There was a hint of sternness beneath the man's voice Ginji had not heard before; the words came out a fact more than a question, and Ginji felt comforted by this.

Mr. Tokuma scratched the back of his neck, glancing at Ginji through one narrowed eye; the other continued to move in the opposite direction. "Yes. We'll take good care of him."

Ginji shivered. He didn't like the tone in Mr. Tokuma's voice.

The man behind him held Ginji closer, mistaking his shiver as responsibility of the cool morning breeze. "I expect nothing less, Mr. Tokuma." Again the man spoke firmly, a hidden warning beneath his words. "As this will be Ryuumei's living accommodation for a while, I would like him to feel comfortable and at home with the other children."

"Oh, he will be," Mr. Tokuma drawled. He grinned at Ginji, as though to emphasis reassurance, but Ginji's eyes widened at the stiff smile.

"Good." The man nodded as though that's what he'd expected to hear.

Ginji blinked up at him, surprised. Couldn't he see the ominous smirk on Mr. Tokuma's face? Was he completely oblivious to it?

They stood together for a while, saying nothing. Ginji could feel Mr. Tokuma's stare on him and turned away, his cheek rubbing against the man's coat. He breathed in, taking in the man's smell, as though if he did so it would overwhelm Mr. Tokuma's presence and make him disappear. After a moment the man cleared his throat, and Mr. Tokuma turned to him. The man looked at him silently. Mr. Tokuma took the hint and moved away from the gate, grunting awkwardly as he did so.

"Err, well, I'll leave you two to say goodbye." Mr. Tokuma stared at Ginji once more. His non-moving eye blinked, as though capturing Ginji within his mind, and he walked away, heading toward the other children.

Ginji watched him go, straining his neck to look around the man's arm. He saw the other children abandon the huge tree when Mr. Tokuma approached them. The young boy on the swing jumped off and went to join them. They didn't move away, but stayed huddled in groups as Mr. Tokuma leaned against the fence and watched them with a close eye, arms folded. The children shuffled, unnerved and talking in hushed tones, rooted to the spot as Mr. Tokuma's left eye seemed to blink to each and every one of them, before glancing impatiently to Ginji and the man beside him.

Ginji turned away. The man ran a hand through his hair wearily before smiling down at him. Ginji felt his heart tug when he realized that smile would soon leave him here and in place would be Mr. Tokuma's lopsided grin.

"Mr. Tokuma will take good care of you," the man said, as though picking up on Ginji's thoughts. "You've nothing to worry about. They're other people here to take care of you as well."

"You've met them?" Ginji asked, looking up at him uneasily.

"Only a few," the man admitted, letting his hand drop. "But they seem very nice."

Seem very nice … Seem, Ginji thought. To him, 'seem' was a gigantic leap from 'are'. Why didn't he say 'are'? His shoulders dropped. "Oh."

"It's only a month," the man said, repeating what he'd told Ginji before, although he sounded like he was convincing himself more of this. "A month will fly by. You never know you might like it and decide you want to stay."

"Yeah …" Ginji replied, thinking, No way.

The man sighed. "I'm sorry, Ryuumei. If I could take you with me –"

"Then take me with you!" Ginji interrupted, grabbing the man's coat, his fingers almost turning white as he held on to it. "I won't get in the way, I promise! You won't even know I'm there –"

"Ryuumei." The man smiled and shook his head. "We both know you can't come with me. You're too young –"

"I'm 12!"

"Like I said; too young." The man reached out and ruffled Ginji's hair. "We've had this conversation many times before, remember? When you turn 16 then maybe I'll allow you to join me, but for now you're much safer here. I want you to stay here, Ryuumei."

Ginji lowered his eyes. His grip loosened on the man's coat. "But I …"

The man let his hand fall to Ginji's cheek, lifting his head slightly. His eyes ran over Ginji's face, as though taking in every detail so he could commit it to memory. He leaned down and pulled Ginji to him. His voice broke as he spoke. "Just 4 weeks, Ryuumei. I'll come back to see you then. You can wait until then, right?"

Ginji sighed. He closed his eyes, his face pressed into the collar of the man's coat, and nodded against his shoulder.

"Yeah …"

It seemed like forever before he opened his eyes, and when he did Ginji could no longer feel the warmth of the man's body pressed next to him. The man had gone, along with his smile, and Ginji felt cold and alone.

Standing in the small dark room, he looked around and saw a tiny window on his left, just big enough for him to peek outside, though he had to tiptoe to look.

A snowy abyss stared back at him, and Ginji watched the tiny droplets fall onto the glass, losing himself in the sea of white. In the distance he could just make out the tall gates dominating the garden, covered entirely in a white cloth, the bars jutting out where the snow had slipped away. The trees were buried beneath the icy blanket, and looking at the ominous gray sky, Ginji couldn't make out if it were morning or night. He lifted a hand and pressed it to the window. The glass felt cool under his palm.

"What are you doing?"

Ginji spun around, unaware he had not been alone. The young boy stared back at him from the corner of the room, his body hidden in the shadows.

"You scared me," Ginji said. His breath came out in a tiny white cloud created by the coldness surrounding him.

"What are you doing?" the boy repeated, his voice lowered to a whisper.

Ginji frowned at him. "Waiting," he said, as though the boy should have realized this.

The boy studied him carefully, his eyes glinting in the darkness. "For what?"

The tone in his voice scared Ginji; as though he knew something Ginji didn't and was almost sympathizing with him, the question itself turning into words of comfort that Ginji didn't want to hear. But he had heard them, and despite himself he accepted the sympathy the boy offered. A pained expression drifted across Ginji's face, and the boy said nothing else as Ginji turned back to the window, his fingers still lingering on the glass.

What am I waiting for? Ginji thought. Freedom, he was tempted to say.

"I don't know," he said after a while, finally answering the boy's question.

The waiting turned into weeks.

The weeks turned into months, and the months soon turned into years. Ginji only knew this by the seasons he saw; every time he opened his eyes he saw a different scene outside the window; a snowy world one minute, a blazing summer the next. Soon with every blink he began seeing more winters, more springs, more summers and more autumns, each one flickering swiftly by.

The young boy no longer accompanied him within the dark room. Ginji had a sinking feeling inside his heart that he had been taken away, although he'd never seen it, and would never be coming back. A shivering thought told him that the boy was probably dead, and as much as he didn't want to believe it, Ginji knew he was right.

He had no memories of the time that had passed, or what was keeping him alive in this time. He didn't remember eating or drinking, but he had grown taller, the tatters of clothing barely stretching over his skin. When the autumn leaves fell outside the window a filthy blanket would suddenly appear beside him, but as soon as the glimpse of spring returned, it was snatched away by aggressive hands, gone as though it had never been there at all.

When he lay on the floor at night Ginji could hear the quiet sobs of the other children. His room was constantly shrouded in darkness, and he never saw outside of it, so he did not know where the children were. Every so often he would hear a ghost-like whisper and wonder whether he was hearing the living or the dead, for he had heard the spine-tingling chill of more than one child's scream as they breathed their last breath. Upon hearing this, he would sit and wonder when he would be next. It seemed their only escape was through death.

As he lost himself in his thoughts, Ginji found his mind wandering to the man.

The man never came.

He never would come; Ginji had chosen long ago to accept this. He told himself there was some sort of explanation, that something had happened to the man which prevented him from coming back, but Ginji would never learn this. His waiting was long overdue, and he often cried at a life that could have been, a life he could have lived if the man had just returned and taken him home, to a proper home; a safe home.

Whenever he closed his eyes, Ginji could still picture the man clearly in his mind, his coat and long hair billowing in an invisible breeze as he smiled at Ginji, brown eyes glinting mischievously, alive with happiness and youth. In his mind Ginji would reach out to him, and the man would laugh, the sound exactly the same as when Ginji had first heard it, and he would extend a hand to Ginji for him to take. Sometimes Ginji would hear him speak, but it would be very faint when it reached his ears.

"Ryuumei."

Then, just as his fingers brushed the man's hand, the man would disappear without a trace.

Ginji would open his eyes. And he'd find himself alone, the sinking feeling of seclusion weighing on his heart once again.

The light glaring off the oddly shaped lamp started to hurt Ban's eyes. He reached over and turned it down, allowing the glow to soften, but that only made him feel more tired and he soon turned it back up, not wanting to fall asleep in case Ginji ran off again. He tolerated the glare, his brow furrowing with irritation as he endured the headache nudging away at his temples.

Looking through the gap in the door, Ban caught a glimpse of the darkness gazing back at him from outside the window in the corridor. No signs of dawn made its presence, and looking at the grandfather clock standing proudly in the corner of the room, half hidden by shadows, Ban saw it was only 3.00 am, too early for the rest of the world to wake up.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Ginji continued to rest seemingly peacefully, and Ban decided to wait it out until he woke up. He had a horrible feeling that if he tried to sleep, something would happen, and he was as sure as hell not running outside again.

He leaned over in the chair and tapped Ginji's forehead, something he fount himself doing every couple of minutes, as though to make sure Ginji was still breathing. He always was, and Ginji would let out a silent breath each time. Ban settled back and rested his elbow on the chair arm, pressing his cheek into his hand, watching Ginji with endowing patience.

"You plan on staying in here all night?"

Ban turned his head at the sound of Shido's voice. He glared at him coldly.

"Get out."

Shido looked at him questioningly from the doorway, noting the frosty undertone of Ban's voice. "Being a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"I said get out," Ban repeated, clenching his hand into a fist.

"I heard you the first time," Shido said calmly, making no attempt to move, ignoring Ban's threatening gesture. He stepped inside the room without a thought and closed the door behind him before leaning against it, shoving his hands inside his pockets and placing one foot over the over.

Ban continued to glare at him but said nothing.

Shido glared back, his eyes firmly locked on Ban's.

Idiot, Ban thought, tempted to use the Jagan on him but not wanting to waste it on the animal-loving bastard. He tore his gaze away from what was beginning to feel like a blinking contest and turned his attention back to Ginji.

Shido watched him carefully, glancing from Ban to Ginji.

The old grandfather clock ticked away as Shido remained in the room, saying nothing. Ban was sure he'd say something sooner or later so he kept quiet, never taking his eyes off Ginji, but when a slow twenty minutes passed he glanced at Shido, his patience ebbing away.

"Didn't I say get out?" he snapped, annoyed.

"That would be the third time," Shido said, looking at Ban. "But I'm not in the mood to take orders from you."

"It's not an order," Ban replied, his voice low.

"So you're threatening me now?" Shido quipped, glaring down at Ban. "It doesn't make much of a difference, does it?"

"You're testing my patience, rat lover," Ban warned.

"You haven't really got patience, have you, snake for brains?"

"Get out!" Ban shouted, his voice echoing off the walls and around the small room. The chair scraped across the floor as he stood up, both hands clenched, and turned to face Shido, eyes flashing.

Shido didn't move. Instead his gaze drifted to Ginji, who was still out, completely oblivious to their presence. "Do you plan on leaving him like that?" he asked, disregarding Ban's threat entirely.

"What?"

"Ginji," Shido nodded toward him. "Are you going to leave him like that?"

"Don't be stupid," Ban growled.

Shido shrugged. "I wonder what happened for you to knock him out like you did," he pondered, moving his gaze back to Ban. "I'm sure even you were reluctant to use your precious snake bite on Ginji."

Ban's eyes flickered with anger and he threw a punch at Shido. His fist connected directly into the beast master's palm.

Shido wrapped his fingers around Ban's knuckles. He felt the impact jolt his arm and lowered it, along with Ban's fist as he continued to apply pressure into Shido's hand.

Ban glared at him with blazing eyes, mouth set in a firm line. "I told you to get out."

Shido smiled; oddly satisfied that he'd managed to fire Ban up even more than usual. "Not yet, snake for brains. Not until you tell me what happened."

After what felt like an eternity, the door to the room finally opened, and Ginji saw outside for the first time.

But the outside only scared him more, and the things he saw flickered by so fast his mind felt overwhelmed trying to take it all in: A man tugging his arm down the corridor, many doors, glimpses inside of children who watched Ginji with wide eyes as he was dragged away, some crying uncontrollably. They were a lot younger than he and Ginji felt compelled to reach out and comfort them. He could feel their fear, almost taking it in with each child he saw, and wondered if it was fear for him and not themselves. He passed many rooms and descended a dozen stairs until the man finally came to a stop.

Everything after that became hazy. He saw darkness, what he thought was a hole in the ground, followed by more darkness; a never ending path of it staring back at him. He walked down that path, the man still behind him, not letting him stop and shoving him forward if he did, until he ended up in a room smaller and colder than the one he had been confined in for what seemed like an eternity.

The man finally spoke. Ginji shivered at his words.

"Nice knowing you, kid. Scream all ya want."

He spat the words and slammed the door.

The room went dark.

Ginji waited, rooted to the spot, until a small flame appeared in the corner of the room. It flickered and danced in the darkness, and Ginji saw the illuminated face of another man standing beside it.

The man grinned. His teeth were yellow and broken.

Ginji felt a shiver travel chillingly down his spine. He looked around the room, his eyes widening as he took in the mud-covered floor and walls, also stained in a crimson red, realization dawning through his heart like a cold-bladed knife. The door behind him was his only escape, the only escape blocked by the first man who had shoved him in here. Ginji suddenly realized why he'd been brought here.

His time was up.

The man chuckled, leering menacingly.

Ginji stumbled back. He felt sick with fear.

This is it, he thought, closing his eyes tightly as the man lifted his arm.

Ginji braced himself and waited for the blow.

Shido entered the room quietly, glancing briefly at Emishi before he sat on the bed next to him. Emishi's eyes were shut, and Shido assumed he was asleep, just as the mouse was that slept peacefully on the nightstand, so he leaned against the headboard and let his thoughts drift back to his conversation with Ban, a conversation that was a mixed with anger and annoyance as Ban told Shido time and time again to get out. But he had stayed, and Ban knew that Shido wouldn't leave until he had squeezed some information out of him.

The Lightning Emperor, huh, Shido thought with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. It was a long time since he'd seen Ginji as the Lightning Emperor, and after hearing Ban talk, Shido couldn't blame the idiot for resorting to having to use his snake bite on Ginji.

Was it really that bad though? Were the children really getting into Ginji's mind?

Shido didn't know. He doubted it; Ginji was strong-willed and surely he wouldn't let one child, or more, get to him so easily. But Ginji was also vulnerable in his own way, and as much as Shido doubted the children manipulating Ginji's thoughts so willingly, he could believe it more than anything. After all, the burns he had left on Ban's skin were vicious and Ginji, in his full power of the Lightning Emperor, would never hurt Ban like that unless something were controlling him.

But what was Ginji dreaming about for him to change like that?

As he asked himself this question, Shido knew he wouldn't find out that answer until Ginji woke up. However when Ban's snake bite wore off he also knew he would not be the first to uncover that answer. In fact he suspected that Ban wouldn't want anyone entering the room downstairs until he had a talk with Ginji himself. Apparently this was not the first time Ginji had lost himself in a dream – this information Ban had kept between him and Ginji until now – but Ginji's previous dream was nowhere near as bad as this one.

"He just tried to escape over the gate," Ban had said. Snake for brains had managed to pull him back though.

You can't watch him forever, you idiot, Shido had wanted to say, but he didn't, knowing that Ban would throw a snide comment back in his face.

He could only hope, he considered, as he rested his arms behind his head and listened to Emishi's steady breathing, that Ban would finally take the opportunity, when Ginji woke up, to tell his partner about the history behind the children. Although Ban chose to keep it from Ginji deliberately in his own weird method to protect him, Ginji had a right to know everything just as they did.

What will you do, snake for brains? Don't you think Ginji should learn everything?

However, with the dreams he encountered, Shido had a hunch Ginji had learnt a lot more than Ban thought. If that was so, whose side would Ginji take? If he takes a side at all. Shido contemplated this; they weren't supposed to be taking sides, there was no such thing as sides in this recovery mission. So why was he even thinking about this?

"Something on your mind?"

Shido jumped, lowering his hands and banging his head on the headboard behind him as he leaned back to look at Emishi.

Emishi winced, his head peeking out from under the covers. "That looked painful."

"Yeah." Shido rubbed his head and glanced down at Emishi. His brow furrowed. "How long have you been awake?"

"Who knows?" Emishi grinned. He turned over on his stomach and supported his weight on his elbows as he spoke to Shido, keeping his gaze on the headboard in front of him. "Your thinking woke me up."

"My thinking?"

"Yep."

Shido tutted between his teeth. "That's impossible."

"Is it?" Emishi glanced up at him beneath his bed-head locks. Shido could have sworn his hair was getting longer.

"Okay then, joker." Shido shifted his weight, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees for support. "What am I thinking?"

Emishi smiled, his eyes still lock on the headboard. "I wouldn't know that."

Shido's eyes narrowed in amusement, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Emishi cut him off, his voice suddenly serious.

"But I do know it's about Ginji." Emishi finally turned his gaze to Shido. "Am I right?"

Shido promptly closed his mouth. He said nothing.

Emishi kept his eyes locked on Shido's face. He waited a moment and then said, "Tell me."

Shido frowned at him. "Tell you what?"

Emishi chuckled, shaking his head. "What you're thinking."

The blow never came. And behind closed eyes Ginji saw so many pictures that he stumbled back in the darkness, his stomach tightening into a sickening knot.

The pictures were horrifying; displays of abuse he couldn't begin to understand, nor did he want to. He saw the frightened gazes of many children, heard their screams, and opened his eyes before the images could consume him. He looked around, his breathing uneasy as he released it in shaky gasps, and took in his surroundings.

As he noted the greenness of the trees, replacing the darkness his eyes had accumulated to, the images returned. They came back strong, and his eyes widened as they played like a movie before him, the memories returning.

He saw himself; running madly away from the shadows that followed him. He carried the child in his arms, holding the boy as close to his chest as he could for protection.

The image faded, to be replaced by another. Ginji saw the shadows circling him, trapping him against the enclosure of the fence. He saw the boy, battered and bruised, lying on the ground. He saw his face, taking in the boy's lifeless body as a shadow held him up with no care as to whether he was alive or dead. His own face changed; the mixture of hurt and anger clearly visible in his eyes. His eyes flashed, and he started to convert into his other self. The self Ginji knew all too well.

The image disappeared.

Ginji gasped and clutched his head.

Another image returned. The child had gone – where had he gone?! – and Ginji saw himself as the Lightning Emperor, glaring towards him.

Ginji staggered backwards.

That's impossible, he thought uneasily.

No, his own self couldn't possibly be staring at him. He was almost staring through him.

Ginji turned around.

And his eyes met Ban's.

Ginji's breath caught in his throat. He stepped backwards, glancing from his Lightning Emperor self to Ban. Neither was looking at him, just each other, their gazes so strong Ginji could feel the emotions coming from them in waves. The frustration, anger, hurt, sadness … he felt it all.

His other self lifted his hand suddenly, aiming at Ban.

What are you doing?! Ginji shouted, but nothing came out. But then he suddenly knew why; knew why he, as the Lightning, was aiming at Ban. What he was planning to do.

What he had done.

He'd already done it, Ginji realized. So where was the child now? Where was Ban?

This wasn't happening. It had already happened. He was seeing an illusion; a dream.

Ginji turned to the illusion of himself.

Stop! He pleaded.

He had no voice, and his dream-like self crackled with electricity, so powerful the voltage radiated a brilliant blue. Even Ban, with his agility and skill, couldn't hope to withstand that kind of power. The pain would prove too much.

Ban never moved, his gaze unwavering as he stared at the Lightning Emperor.

No, stop! Ginji started forward, but he knew he couldn't change what had already occurred. He suddenly wanted release; release from this nightmare.

The electricity dispelled from the Lightning Emperor's hand, zigzagging through the air furiously as it flew past him, aiming accurately toward Ban.

STOP!!

Ginji screamed and woke up.

The ticking of the clock echoed throughout the room. Ginji sat up, his dream abruptly cut off, and stopped screaming, clutching the couch beneath him as he gathered his thoughts. He breathed in, breathed out; sweat trickling down his forehead as one by one the visions died, disappearing within the darkness of his mind. His whole body shook feverishly and his throat tightened. He felt sick.

"Ginji."

Ginji turned his head, immediately coming face to face with Ban. He swallowed and let out a shaky breath, a mixture of worry and utter relief raining down on him. Ban was okay. "Ban."

Ban watched him carefully, his expression blank. "It's about time, Ginji."

Ginji shuffled himself off the couch and stood up, his legs unsteady. Ban stood up also, his arm already out in fear that his partner would fall over, but Ginji placed a hand firmly over the back of the couch and leaned his weight against it.

"B-Ban." Ginji breathed deeply and released it, wishing his muscles would stop turning to jelly. The images came back suddenly and his fingers tightened on the couch. He closed his eyes against them. He had so many things he wanted to say, to discuss, but didn't know where to start. "My – my dream …"

Ban sighed. His head titled downwards. "I know."

"I saw … things." Ginji shook his head and opened his eyes, pushing down the feeling of nausea that welled in his throat. "Horrible things. I wasn't –." A sudden thought came to him and he stood up straight, the room spinning before his vision focused on Ban again. "Did you see him?"

Ban lifted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Who?"

"The boy. I was … carrying him." Ginji lifted his hands as though to demonstrate, the blurred image of the child in his mind becoming clearer. "I had him in my arms. Where did he –." His eyes widened and he stopped.

Ban stepped forward, his mouth set in a straight line. His hand tightened into a fist by his side. "Listen, Ginji –"

"I – I left him," Ginji blurted. "He's still in the woods!" Ginji moved away from the couch and headed toward the closed door, the feeling of worry returning. He knew he wasn't thinking straight, but he had to check; he needed to check. His hand closed around the door handle shakily. He began to pull it open just as he heard Ban's footsteps hurriedly cross the room and saw his hand whizz past his face and slam on the door, forcing it shut.

Ginji turned around. "What're you doing –?"

Ban's other hand slammed onto the door frame loudly, trapping Ginji within the enclosure of his arms.

Ginji jumped, his eyes widening in shock. "Ban!"

Ban lowered his head slightly, a bemused smile on his face. "What am I doing? What do you think you're doing, Ginji?"

"Ban please, move," Ginji insisted. "I need to see –"

"See what, Ginji?!" Ban shouted suddenly, lifting his head to meet Ginji's eyes. His own eyes sparked with anger, glowing more vibrant than Ginji had ever seen. "You need to see what? Do you even realize how much trouble you put me through tonight? And you want to go back out there and look for something that doesn't exist?! Have you completely lost it?!"

Ginji pressed his back against the door. His hand tightened on the handle as his eyes locked with Ban's. Without his glasses it was difficult not to see the emotions Ban carried, and Ginji saw the one feeling Ban couldn't conceal so well; the feeling that lingered under the anger.

For a moment neither of them said anything. Ginji studied Ban carefully and listened to his partner's steady breathing, feeling it tickle his face before speaking quietly.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice injected with sudden pain, his eyes reflecting the guilt he felt, thinking of no other words that could help. "I'm sorry, Ban. I'm really, really sorry."

The muscles in Ban's arms tensed and relaxed slightly. He removed one hand from the doorframe and placed it on Ginji's shoulder, his fingers tightening within the fabric of Ginji's t-shirt. His hand shook more than he wanted it to; with anger or relief, he couldn't tell. He let out a weary sigh. His eyes left Ginji's as he lowered his head and muttered, "Don't apologize, damnit. I can't be angry at you if you do."

Ginji smiled a little. "Sorry," he repeated. He lifted his hand from the door handle and placed it on top of Ban's. "You can be angry at me if you want."

Ban chuckled. "Nah," he said quietly. "I can't now, you idiot. Not when you apologize like that."

Ginji squeezed Ban's hand reassuringly. "I'm okay, Ban."

Ban's fingers pressed deeper into Ginji's shoulder. No matter how much he wanted to scold Ginji for his stupidity, he couldn't bring himself to do it. "I know."

They first signs of morning light dispelled between the trees as Ban and Ginji wandered back through the woods. The fallen leaves crunched beneath their feet and the odd snap of a twig or the cry of a bird broke the silence that surrounded them. They said nothing as they walked, and Ban wondered why on earth he'd agreed to drag Ginji back to the very place they'd fought hours earlier. Looking at Ginji, he could tell he wasn't the only one thinking about their fight.

As though reading his thoughts, Ginji came out of his silence and asked, "Did I hurt you?" He stopped a meter behind Ban and looked up.

Ban came to a halt and turned to face Ginji. He remembered the searing pain he'd felt during their fight that had flowed through his skin; the pain that still burned furiously when he'd put on his shirt before they came outside. A mark had appeared on his torso where Ginji had punched him with a fist overflowing with power, and he knew Ginji had seen it the moment he'd woken up. It was just one of the things Ginji couldn't stop apologizing for.

Ban smiled. "You couldn't hurt me if you tried."

"No." Ginji kicked the soil under his shoe thoughtfully. He knew Ban was lying. "But as the Lightning Emperor I –"

"It doesn't matter," Ban said forcefully, his voice rising before he lowered it again. "Whether you're the Lightning Emperor or not, it doesn't matter." He turned and carried on walking a few steps before stopping again. His voice drifted across the silence of the woods. "Don't worry about it, Ginji. You barely touched me."

Ginji frowned at Ban's back. "You're lying."

Ban shrugged. "Maybe." He looked back over his shoulder. He paused before saying, "But I'm alive, aren't I?"

Ginji lifted his head, shocked. Despite the distance between them he could still see the clear blueness of Ban's eyes as they watched him. He knew that, even now, those eyes were reading each and every one of his thoughts; his worry and concern, his lingering sadness, his guilt, and mostly, his fear of trying to kill his best friend. He knew that beneath Ban's question lay a promise that neither of them would ever bring up again.

Ginji said nothing in reply, and Ban turned away from his stunned daze and continued on through the woods, his unanswered question still hovering silently between them.

It didn't take them long to reach the opening, and as he had already known, Ginji didn't see the boy anywhere, nor any indication that he had been there at all. He spotted footprints in the ground, ones that he could only guess belonged to him and Ban from their contact earlier, but none that would belong to a small child. What annoyed Ginji the most was that he couldn't remember where he had put the child, but he knew he'd put him down, out of harms way, even though the boy was already dead at the time.

"Something wrong, Ginji?"

Ban's voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked up. A sigh escape his throat. Ginji's breath came out in a whisper of white puffs against the crisp morning cold. "It's nothing," he answered quietly. "I knew there'd be nothing here. But I was hoping that by coming here I would remember where I'd left him."

"The boy?" Ban tapped his knuckle against the bark of a tree. "I don't know. All I know is that one minute you carried something in your arms and the next it was gone. But it didn't take long to realize it was a human."

Ginji nodded. His voice came out a low murmur as he spoke. "I know it was only a dream, but it felt real enough. I feel like I … failed him somehow. I promised to protect him."

Ban looked at him. "You can't protect someone that isn't real, Ginji. It just doesn't work that way."

Ginji lowered his head. His hands tightened by his sides. "You're right. I know you're right. But I still feel like I should grieve for him somehow. I owe him that much, even if he was just an illusion."

Ban ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully. He looked up at the clear morning sky before glancing back at Ginji, who stood with his back to him. His gaze settled on Ginji's hands, balled up into fists and shaking by his sides, the knuckles turning white beneath the skin.

Ban sighed. He placed a comforting hand on Ginji's shoulder. His stomach throbbed with a sudden burning but he ignored it. "Let's go, Ginji," he urged gently. "I think there's something I should tell you."

Chapter Eighteen End

To Be Continued In Chapter Nineteen

Author's Notes: Well … I don't know what to say –shot-.

I have no excuses for the lateness or my absence. I guess I abandoned the story for a while – it happens, I suppose – there's nothing I can say apart from I'm sorry. But … not sure if I like this chapter so much after rereading it, but I'm submitting it because I worked hard on it at the time and I want to finally get around the finishing this fanfiction, if not for myself but for you guys, too, who have continued to give me constant and encouraging support through and through – even through all my ups and downs. I can still thank you continuously for that – you made this story my salvation, one that I will see through to the end.

I hope you're all alive (as I am, haha) – and thank you for adding this story for your favorite / alert lists. I love you all.

Aoi