Tokyo Majin Gakuen Kenpucho: Tou Saigo no Butai Chapter 7: Still in the Dream?, a tokyo majin gakuen kenpucho: tou fanfic

Tokyo Majin Gakuen Kenpucho: Tou 「Saigo no Butai」

Chapter 6 - Still in the Dream?

Somewhere, distantly, a woman's voice was humming a slow lullaby. He could hear it very faintly, rousing himself to listen.

Tatsuma no longer felt like he were weightlessly floating through empty space, and the driving urgency so apparent before had vanished. What happened? he passively wondered to himself, his ears full of the easy song. He could remember attacking Yagyuu, but... afterwards?

He was still surrounded by the bleak void he'd grown accustomed to, even though it, too, had settled. The storm clouds were no longer tumbling above him, instead replaced by a blank canvas of night, starless and calm. The air was frozen with a peaceful cold, as if a fresh snow had blanketed the world. Yet as he exhaled, he couldn't see his breath, and he didn't feel chilled.

Tatsuma began drifting fully back to himself, growing aware that he was laying on his back, arms and legs spread-eagled, as if he were inviting the sky overhead to actually snow down on him. Smiling somewhat desolately at the thought, he began moving his limbs, pretending to make a snow angel. And then the sadness swelled, replacing the thought in his head with a tragic memory. It snowed the night they died, too...

"Except you're not dead yet," said a recognizable voice nearby.

Conscious of the speaker seated next to him, Tatsuma felt no worry or trepidation. Instead, he merely made a sound of understanding, closing his eyes almost reminiscently, and listened as the lullaby grew louder. Neither the melody, nor the woman, sounded familiar to him, so Tatsuma assumed it was something from his past.

"If I'm not, then why are you here, Kodzunu?" Tatsuma muttered curiously, not at all bothered by his sudden companion, nor the dialogue.

All of the anger and confusion he had towards Tendou Kodzunu had faded long ago, and now he felt an odd sort of closeness with the other teenager. They had history, and an unknown predetermined fate; it seemed they would forever cross paths. If they hadn't been enemies until the very end of the battle, Tatsuma might've considered him one of his oldest friends.

Tendou gave a characteristic chuckle, darkly amused. However, there wasn't much wickedness about his spirit; in death, it seemed as if he'd acquired the same forgiving nature that Tatsuma Hiyuu had naturally in life. "Why indeed," said Tendou. "Perhaps we're both still caught in the dream?"

Rolling his head to look at the other, Tatsuma saw the Kodzunu heir sitting casually beside him, one leg outstretched, the other bent with his hand draped over that knee. It appeared as if they'd been in a relaxed, lengthy conversation, even though there was no sense of time in the limbo-world. Yet none of it felt strange to Tatsuma, basic reasoning didn't matter.

He asked idly, "Am I dreaming?"

Tendou turned slowly, his pale eyes holding Tatsuma's gaze. There was something hollow about his personae. He grinned dryly and said, "I think you're the only one who can answer that question."

"Hmm. I guess so." As he spoke, Tatsuma lifted his hands before his eyes, noticing for the first time his fingerless gloves were gone. For a moment, his skin was bare, but then his own birthmarks appeared, very subtly, atop the pale flesh. Almost like a cruel reminder, he watched the left blur into Tendou Kodzunu's tattoo, and then back again. Over and over, the markings warped and changed, but he watched as if from outside a hazy fog, barely there. Tatsuma blinked curiously, trying to grasp the meaning; he was certain there was one, something questioning him just as Tendou was.

"More importantly, is this where you want to stay?"

He let his hands fall. Tatsuma knew what Tendou was implying. He'd gotten so used to the chase, being in the Dragon's void. He hadn't believed he was hiding here, but perhaps... Perhaps a part of him did not want to return to the human world. He was certain once back on Earth there would only be further ruin and tragedy, and he wasn't sure if he could cope with seeing more innocents suffer. He had hoped he could kill Munetaka Yagyuu in this isolated place, and let it all end here. That was his desire, but...

Unable to come up with a firm reply, Tatsuma sighed, looking away. He let his eyes wander to the blackness above them. And he frowned, wondering why it was so drab here. He wished there were stars in the sky. He couldn't explain it, but somehow seeing stars would have made him feel better. He would have felt less – alone.

"Are you calling to them?"

"Who?"

"The stars." Tendou's grin became an encouraging, yet forlorn, smile. "It's not as lonely where they are."

Now it was Tendou who turned away, casting his eyes down as he did. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Tendou leaned into them with a distant melancholy, mirroring the emotions churning through Tatsuma. He stared off into space with a profound vacancy to his eyes, and the sight of him made Tatsuma flinch; the dire recollection hit him hard – the scene of Tendou Kodzunu, misshapen by the Dark Arts, dead. In the background, the lullaby's tune became empathically warmer, a mother's heartening care.

Pity and longing stabbed Tatsuma, and he said nicely, his sensitive tone betraying him, "I don't feel alone."

"Heh," Tendou scoffed in a muted pitch. "Don't lie to a liar. And don't feel sorry for me. I have no regrets now." He titled his head towards Tatsuma, and the red flay of his hair fell over his sallow face. He pointedly asked, "What about you?"

The tumult of raw emotions which suddenly, fiercely, gripped his chest made Tatsuma moan softly. It was too much for him to remember entirely unbiased, and offered him too much pain; even the boy with him was a unswerving reminder. "Yes," he whispered. "I regret. There's a lot I regret."

"Then go back," Tendou said flatly, as if making the decision for him. He lifted himself to his feet, and the expression on his face was direct yet empty. He seemed a shell of the young man Tatsuma remembered. "Regret is for the living, and you still have another chance."

Another chance? Suddenly overwhelmed, Tatsuma's eyes filled with tears, and he realized with those words he hadn't succeeded in killing Yagyuu yet. There was a building fear inside him, but Tatsuma was no longer sure if it was a horror of having to continue the fight, or panic at being alone. So much rested on his shoulders, and he was growing tired.

It felt like he were falling down now, the air rushing passed him sharply. He fought it sluggishly, one hand groping, but finding no purchase. So he just let go, let himself fall. Tatsuma could no longer see Tendou Kodzunu in his dream. But he could still hear the sad lullaby, still hear the woman's faraway voice softly humming an indiscernible tune...

And as much as it hurt, Tatsuma finally opened his eyes, the teardrops feeling like tiny weights caught in his eyelashes. He took a shallow breath, hearing it rattle through his throat. He sensed a heaviness to his body, and he was aware of the growing fatigue in all of his muscles; there was a vague ache in his head, throbbing against his temples with every pulse of his blood. He felt confused. He also felt – human again.

Trying to focus on the world outside his body was difficult; his vision remained out of focus, making the sights foggy. But he found he were still laying on his back, and he soon recalled the last battle. That's right, he thought resignedly. They'd fallen. Both Yin and Yang, when the Golden Dragon had tried to take down its prey. But I failed...

The misery the realization brought forced a strangled, unhappy sob from his lips – and the sound drew the frenetic attention of someone else, someone with him; a pair of hands fell against him in a sort of satisfied shock. Slightly baffled, wondering if he were still in the dream with Tendou, Tatsuma turned to gaze at the person.

All he could vaguely make out was the face of a young Asian woman. His head surged with pain when he tried discerning details, and he didn't even have the strength to speak; he made an effort to open his mouth, but Tatsuma felt his throat tighten uncontrollably. Supple hands stroked his shoulder encouragingly, her touch gentle and easy as one hand fell on his forehead; her skin was unnaturally icy against his feverish own.

She spoke, but her voice was garbled and dulled in the misty haze of unconsciousness creeping upon him again. Tatsuma had no idea what she tried to tell him, but he felt reassured by the caring tone drifting through the blackness. And just before he passed out, far in the back reaches of his mind where comprehension lay in a muddle wait, he wondered if what she said was in another language...

"You do realize this is a trap?"

Kyouichi couldn't help but be incredulous as he addressed Kisaragi, gaze hard on his traveling companion seated directly across from him. The train rattled along the tracks for a moment, the reverberations echoing through the long corridors, then settled into a steady, rhythmic ride. In the passenger car, Kyouichi had grown bored of watching the world whip by outside the small porthole window, and his desire to voice his concerns finally broke free.

"Right?" he insisted.

Kisaragi had been sitting quietly with his hands folded in his lap and his head back; although his eyes were closed, Kyouichi knew he wasn't asleep. Soon enough, Kisaragi replied irritably, "There is the possibility, yes."

"Then why are we walkin' straight into it?"

"Do you know another fast means to get to Shanxi?"

"That's not what I meant, Muttsuri," Kyouichi growled, aggravated in turn, "and you know it. We shouldn't be followin' leads handed to us by the enemy."

Kisaragi sighed gravely and opened his eyes to give Kyouichi a strict glare. "Friend or foe, I cannot ignore the clear fact Mount Wutai is where the Dragons have descended."

For whatever uncomfortable reason, Kyouichi was bothered by the choice of words: descended. Was Tatsuma some sort of God now? Even more frustrating was Kisaragi's candidness. Kyouichi's eyes drew into dire slits. "But if you know that, then they do, too." Whoever the hell they are...

Allowing his eyes to wander towards the window, Kisaragi said in a darkly solicitous manner, "I have to wonder about that."

"Huh?"

"If this is an enemy seeking the Dragons, than by all rights they are on Yagyuu's side. They may even be the ones he fled to find. If they were to know his whereabouts, I'm inclined to believe they do know the Golden Dragon is there as well."

"Unless Tatsuma lost the trail."

"In which case, it would mean we are being stalked by Yagyuu."

Kyouichi let his eyebrows shoot up, startled. He hadn't thought about that, the possibility of Yagyuu himself trying to stop them from reaching the Golden Dragon. Munetaka Yagyuu always seemed to keep one step ahead of everyone, like a malevolent overseer staring down upon the players on a chess board; so he'd obviously be aware of Tatsuma's friends on the hunt. If it were true, they were in for an even greater fight than he'd first imagined. His hand tightened expectantly on his bokuto, already rising to the challenge. If Yagyuu were back on Earth, back in his human form, Kyouichi could take the bastard, he knew!

"However," Kisaragi continued, "I'm of the mind both Dragons fell at Mount Wutai, and both are being sought. Two sides of the same coin."

"So... this is a race to see who gets there first?"

"Or a trap, and they have already beaten us there."

Beaten us to Tatsuma? Not good. Kyouichi rubbed at his jaw in irked confusion. "Shit, this pisses me off."

His emotional declaration seemed to give Kisaragi leave to ignore him, and he closed his eyes again. Kyouichi felt his anger building, but there really was no sense in letting it out on Kisaragi. Instead, he clucked his tongue in a callous breath, crossing his legs and thrusting his shoulders back against the uncomfortable edge of the headrest. He didn't like it, the idea they were walking into the lion's den without even knowing how many lions were in the pride.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. "Wait. If this is a race, and everyone is trying to find the Dragons, then... who's following us? If you believe that article, the enemy wouldn't want to give clues away so easily."

Kisaragi's head dipped slightly in a vague nod. He said again, "Friend, or foe."

"Eh?" Kyouichi chewed on his lower lip, weighing the options. A friend would wanna help us get to Tatsuma first. But then, why follow us around in secret? That would mean it was someone neither of them knew personally, and the spy was also just as unsure of them. That could prove bothersome in the end. If it's a foe, this is inevitably a goddamn trap. "Dammit. So which do you think it is, Muttsuri?"

"Please, Houraiji," Kisaragi said behind a heavily weary and frankly frustrated sigh. "Let me rest."

For the first time, Kyouichi took in the clean sight of Kisaragi without his usual hotheaded judgments. He saw the noticeable paleness to his skin, the dark circles under the boy's eyes, the haggard expression and drawn brows; his posture, typically so straight and decisive, was now slumped in exhaustion. He actually looked like hell.

Shamefaced, Kyouichi nodded silently. He's drained, he said to himself with a dreadful positivity. Genbu is draining him dry.

Despite the insensitiveness of the notion, Kyouichi couldn't help but wonder how much he could rely on Kisaragi in the days to come. He finally could admit he trusted the antiques shop owner, yet he wasn't sure he could put so much faith in his vigor to watch his back in a fight. Should they walk into a trap, was Kisaragi justly prepared? If it came to that, Kyouichi would have to go into battle alone. He cursed mutely.

And another thought broke his contemplation. You know what you have to do...

With his usual defiant air, Kyouichi embraced his bokuto, holding it against his shoulder in the proud posture of a samurai. He knew he could be the sole warrior, as he had always been in the past. And he was used to protecting others.

As the train brought them closer to their destination, closer to danger, Kyouichi found himself watching the other travelers in the passenger car, even the attendants, wondering which one might be following them. And why...

Aoi sat on her dorm bed with the care package her parents had sent her. Its cardboard folds lay open, and nestled inside was a Tupperware of Ichigo Daifuki, strawberry confections made by her mother, who never understood Aoi's sudden fondness for the sweets. Unfortunately, now the container of little cakes sat forgotten, along with her mother's note, both still unpacked. Aoi's attention was stuck on her father's portion of the package.

In one hand she clutched the new cell phone he promised her, with a sticky note attached that read, Call me. On her lap was his letter. And her plane ticket to the States. She continued to stare at it, almost disbelieving.

Aoi had done well to completely forget about the conversation she had with her father several days ago. Her wishful intention was to devise a mature dialogue to explain to her parents why she would not go to college in America. On a few occasions, Aoi had even tried making notes for her speech, but had ultimately crumpled every sheet of paper into the wastebasket – to see it in writing only made the situation more real, plus she didn't want Komaki to find out. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't want her friends to know her dilemma.

But in the end, Aoi had childishly cast it aside, burying all thoughts of the trip in the back of her mind, hoping the matter would just disappear without her having to struggle.

Then the box arrived, and her ignorant bubble burst with a horrible backlash of stinging heartache and fruitless panic. Right now, she felt too shocked to even care.

The numbing sorrow was so dense, she didn't even hear when a quick knock sounded on the door. Without waiting for a reply, it opened and Komaki Sakurai stuck her head in. "Aoi?"

The other girl turned her gaze over blankly, but the sight of her friend caused Aoi to instantly hide her inner pain and put on a false mask of typical cheer. Komaki looked as happy as she'd ever seen her since they arrived in Saitama City, her brightness immediately noticeable, as if her pleasant attitude warmed the room.

"Oh good, you're here," Komaki said merrily. She came into the room, leaving the door opened behind her; Aoi sucked up her churning emotions even more, not wanting the other students outside to glimpse her true feelings. "I see you got a post, too?"

"Yes." Despite herself, Aoi heard the almost groggy crack in the word.

Komaki held up her hand, displaying a letter. "Same here. My Mom wrote to say they're coming to visit next week."

Komaki's high spirits and excited smile infected Aoi, who sincerely returned the gesture. "That's great. I haven't seen your family in a long time."

"Right?" Komaki beamed, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. "It'll be nice to see some more familiar faces around here, huh?" Her friend's smile started to widen, then suddenly it disappeared entirely. Komaki cocked her head curiously. "Oh, what's the ticket for?"

Aoi's heart sank as if an anchor was cast from it. She dropped her eyes to the letter, her brain reeling for an appropriate cover story. But in the end, she could never openly lie. Swallowing hard, she said, "I-It's a plane ticket – from my father."

"Plane ticket? Are you going home?"

"Um, they want me to go to America. They want me to go to college there."

For a brief moment, Aoi saw Komaki's expression falter and her mouth set in a firm line. She felt a wave of hope course through her, and couldn't stop the pleading look that washed into her eyes. Desperately, Aoi wanted to hear someone else affirm her own desires, to wish her not to leave. Perhaps, she thought with reliance, like Kyouichi might have done.

But whatever serious thought that seeped into her mind quickly fled, and Komaki's face lit up once again. "Really? That's so cool! Your English was always really good, maybe it was a sign?" She chuckled in jest.

"I guess so," Aoi heard herself mumble, not really sure to what she was replying. Her smile stayed on her lips, but now it was totally faked. It actually hurt to hear Komaki so encouraging.

"When are you leaving? I didn't think you could start in a foreign college so quickly."

"Well, right now Father is going there on a business trip, and he just wants me to come along for the exposure. I guess we'll look at universities and apartments." The words came robotically, and Aoi couldn't bring herself to look her friend in the eye.

She was so tired of fighting, but she knew if she accompanied her father now, there was no turning back; going would only seal her fate. But what else could she do? It was her own father, her family name. And even Komaki seemed to think it was a great idea. Getting to travel and see the world would indeed help her future. If she were tired, she should just give in. Was it really worth the effort to fight to stay in the dream?

"So you are leaving soon?"

"He's coming for me in a few more days. I'm sorry, Komaki. I guess I won't get to see your parents after all."

"Mom will be disappointed, but that's okay. I'm sure you'll see them again sometime. Or maybe we can all come visit you in America? Wouldn't that be awesome?"

Aoi smiled sadly. "Of course." She could feel Komaki staring at her, as if trying to peel away the bogus layers of her outer shell. Not wanting to dampen her good mood, especially after everything else, Aoi forced herself to lift her eyes with a brightness she did not feel, saying, "I wish you could come with me, though."

"Yeah, but we all have to leave the nest sometime," Komaki said. The somber tone returned, creeping into her voice as if she were vaguely afraid of such a time. It touched Aoi in a reminiscent manner; Komaki was always looking out for her, much like Kyouichi, and it would be rather distressing if even her best friend were no longer by her side.

"Well," Komaki added to shy away from anything serious, "nothing is set in stone yet."

The choice of words caused Aoi to start, and even though a glimmer of optimism renewed itself, she wasn't sure if she could believe it. Or rather, if she had the strength left to allow herself to believe in it. "Maybe."

Jostling the mattress, Komaki rose onto her feet. "I'll leave you to finish opening your package," she said, still seeming quite joyful with things. "But if those are cakes in that Tupperware I see, I hope one has my name on it." She winked.

Aoi couldn't help but laugh lightly. Permitting herself that simple moment, she replied teasingly, "It's written in frosting."

"Good," said Komaki gaily. "I'll see you later, Aoi."

Aoi waved her friend off, and her mind held onto the picture of Komaki's clear smile. Why can't I be as excited as Komaki? Why can't I just let go, and be happy with life the way it is? It would be so much simpler. Even as she interrogated herself, Aoi knew the answer, their names swept through her heart like the reminder of a summer breeze on a cold winter night. Kyouichi... Tatsuma...

Sensing tears brimming, Aoi sighed out her sadness and lethargically turned her attention to the cell phone in her hand. With mundane movements, she took off the note from her father and turned it on. She waited to check the battery, knowing full well she would call her father as he wished – everything as he wanted – when the phone suddenly lit up against her palm and beeped.

Intrigued, slightly perplexed, Aoi flipped it opened, and found a text message demanding to be read. She selected the proper function, thinking it was from her parents, or perhaps the service provider's greeting, only to see a number she didn't instantly recognize. The number pattern seemed familiar, but – whose was it?

And then she saw the text: I'm coming to see you guys. Be there soon. Please be safe. Anko.

Anko-chan? How on earth did Kyouko Touno get the number to a new cell not even in her possession yet? Aoi shook her head in confused awe. It could only mean Anko was urgently trying to get a hold of her, and, ever the sleuth, contacted her parents for a way. She wondered, with a newfound nervousness, what could be so desperate enough to warrant a sudden trip to Kokusai.

Please be safe. Why wouldn't they be safe? Suddenly, a different panic gripped her chest, and Aoi felt a pulse of foreboding beating through her.

Something was wrong. She was sure of it.

A few feet down the dormitory hall, Komaki's steps slowed considerably. Something's wrong, she told herself positively. Aoi was acting normal, but there was a profound bleakness to her very movements and words; it felt much like a performance to Komaki.

But she wondered why Aoi wouldn't want to attend college in the U.S.A. It was a great opportunity, and if Komaki's parents could afford it, she would definitely love to travel with her. Really, who wouldn't enjoy such a chance? Perhaps Aoi just didn't want to seem overly excited in the wake of all the terror and loss. Indeed, that was the very reason Komaki tried to make a festival out of the unexpected news, even though her initial reaction was incredulous disappointment.

Aoi getting to journey to a new college, her own parents coming to visit and support her – it was all fantastic news. Komaki knew they should be happy. It meant they were getting the chance to move on. The battle was over for them.

So why do I feel worried? Deep down, Komaki sensed a whole other storm brewing, and somehow she knew it was coming for them like a cyclone. She hated the suspicious feeling, scolding herself to ignore it. Certainly, it had to be nothing but a nightmare caused from her concerns, all the stress of the past few months.

Even worse, however, was the realization of how the dismal premonition was making her feel. It seemed to her a personal attack, and Komaki tensed at the stab of what she could only describe as betrayal. It made her anxious and defensive.

What would this sudden storm bring? And would she have to face it alone now, without Aoi? As much as she wished it weren't so, she again felt as if Aoi were abandoning her. And in the end, only one thought raced through her mind:

She's leaving me...

The evening lengthened into night, and the final meals had been served at the shelter. The kitchen was cleaned, and the rest of the volunteers were gone. Alone in the darkened cafeteria of bleached tile and stainless steel appliances, Yuuya Daigo slouched against the back wall, the phone loose in his hand; the emanating ringtone was pounding in his ear, the caller long since disconnected. The conversation was over, but the shock kept building so badly he was unable to move, even to simply hang the phone up.

Shaking, Daigo pressed the back of his free hand to his lips, feeling like he'd be sick. A burning sensation was swelling through his chest, so unprocessed and indescribable were his emotions over the news.

The news they had finally found his father in Tokyo.