Author's Notes: The standard disclaimers apply. Kamui, Yuuto, Satsuki, Yuka, etc. belong to CLAMP. Miyazaki Tashiro belongs to me. I suppose if by some odd stroke of luck you wish to use him in a fic, give me credit. This chapter contains violence and adult themes, and this fic will contain graphic sex... and soon. Though on this board that's more of an advertisement than a warning. Oh, and the title of another KMFDM song is in this chapter somewhere. Points for finding it!
Here's a quick glossary of terms used in this fic that you're probably already familiar with, but just in case you aren't, they're here for you.
LDP- Liberal Democratic Party; the party that has held the majority of seat in Japan's caucus every election save one since that nation's new constitution instated by the USA following World War II.
JSDF- Japan Self-Defense Force; in that same constitution, Japan was forbidden to create a standing army of it's own. Due to political pressure- ironically, largely from the USA- and to satisfy the need to defend the country in case of an attack from outside, the JSDF was created. A 'non-military' force with one of the highest military budgets in the world. Kusanagi belongs to the JSDF in the original story of X/1999.
Zaibatsu- A huge corporate conglomerate with hundreds of subsidiaries, often controlled mainly by one family. These were forced to separate after the second world war, but most have since been reestablished.
Yakuza- A form of Japanese organized crime, often involved in prostitution and arms dealing, known for the tatoos virtually all of its members wear and its close ties to corporate Japan.
No, this story does not take place in modern-day Japan. Nor is it necessarily AU, depending on how CLAMP decides to end X. I hope you've read the first chapter, or this one will probably be a little confusing. I hope you enjoy it!
* * *
Anarchy
Chapter 2- Future Shock
It had rained the night of the Promised Day. Kigai Yuuto remembered it clearly- the sheets of driving liquid soaking his skin, sent from heaven as if to purify the city of all the blood that had been spilled to gain its salvation.
He’d thought it fitting, really- for him, water had always symbolized transformation, change. That night he had ceased to be a Dragon of Earth and started the next path anew- like a river, it could never be fully stopped, only slowed or diverted to another, fresh direction. Even the End of the World had merely seen him change forms and begin again.
Wind could die, the earth crumble, and flames be snuffed out forever- but even water touched by fire survived in another state, only to return in time and continue unharmed.
Touched by fire… A wry smile crossed his still-handsome features, reflected in the double-paned glass standard for offices this high in the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. He touched a smooth cheek- remembering when this same face, he’d thought, had been marred beyond all repair. He recalled staggering from the charred remains of the Ginza, awed that he was still alive, wondering why the other Dragons of Heaven had not come to finish him off. Even with Satsuki-chan’s help that lovely red-haired woman, their fire-caster, had nearly been able to kill him, so enraged was she by the death of her partner… He had looked up just in time to see a shimmering gold kekkai fade from the sky and hear the distant roar of Tokyo Tower’s collapse. He remembered wondering just who had won.
Then the rain. Soft at first, slowly building to a fierce torrent that cooled his burning skin and silenced the flames spreading throughout the ruined city. He’d found his way out of the lower sections before the harbor flooded and the streets were turned to streams.
After more stitches, skin grafts, and days in the emergency hospitals outside the city than he cared to remember, he’d discovered the answer. The Dragon of Heaven, that other boy far too small and pretty for his age, had killed the Dragon of Earth. Yuuto had been surprised to say the least- the towering figure with blazing golden eyes and seemingly limitless power losing to a scared little boy- but he did not question it. So the Dreamgazers had been wrong… they were dead and he was alive, out of a job and with a face fit to frighten small children. He had searched for any remaining Angels and hid for a while after, in case the Seal should decide to take revenge. There were only two other survivors and one wanted nothing to do with him, but amongst them was the only one that really mattered.
Plastic surgery had taken care of the damage- and Satsuki-chan knew, or could find, the very best… and knew enough of their more ‘private’ research that most of it was free… not that money meant much of anything since she learned to bypass security on any bank in the world- and by the time he was ready to return to work, Japan’s government wa scrambling to fill in the holes left by the deaths of so many beaurocrats and the fall of the LDP. A little easy charm on the right people and he was back and in a higher position than he could had hoped to achieve before.
He’d grown in power, he’d grown in influence… is this was his reprisal for aiding in the attempt to destroy humanity, he would gladly take it.
“U-um. Excuse me.” A timid voice broke into his thoughts. He spun his chair around to smile up at his secretary. A cute girl, of course- he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I have the papers you asked for.” She reached out to drop them on his desk, but he caught her hand first- presumably- to take them.
As expected, her cheeks coloured ever-so nicely. “Ah… ah… and the vice-chairman of Mitsubishi is on line two… he’s calling about the new tax bill again…”
“Thank you so much. These must have been hard to find.” Yuuto let a few white teeth show behind the smile, and leaned closer. He could practically feel her start to tremble. “Is that a new perfume? It’s so lovely.”
“Eh…. Yes… I mean, yes it is!” She was already breathing so quickly…. He released her hand, never losing his pleasant smile. Just enough to hint, never enough to make her feel uncomfortable… this was a game as old as time and one Yuuto had long since mastered. “Well then, I…”
“It’s so late- why don’t you just go home for the evening?” He suggested.
“Really? But what about you?”
“I’ll be working late tonight.”
“Oh, thank you. Good night then, Kigai-san!” She smiled nervously, still blushing, and hurried out. It was only a matter of moments before he could hear her chattering excitedly with the other women on the floor.
Ah! You won’t believe it! Yuuto-san noticed my perfume!
No way! Lucky!
I’m so jealous that you got to be his secretary… my boss is a perverted old man.
Yuuto-san still looks so young… and I hear he’s not even married!
Oh, he’s not!
With those looks? He has to be gay!
No- he’s not, he’s just looking for the ‘right person’… I think one time he had his heart broken…
Really? That’s so sweet! I’m going to bake him something for tomorrow…
Yuuto leaned back in his chair, pondering whether or not he should make an ‘appearance’ and ask them what they were all talking about. Or maybe he should just leave them for now. Business first, pleasure later, as they say. Besides, he shouldn’t keep his date for the evening waiting.
He touched a few keys on his desk to turn on the wall-screen at the side of the office. The glowering face of Mitsubishi’s vice chairman stared back at him impatiently. Yuuto smirked- and these old men wondered why their wives loved their money more than them? Only a mother could love a face like that.
“This is absolutely ridiculous! Higher corporate taxes are no way to rebuild the economy! This will drastically decrease growth in the fourth quarter… Why are you smiling?”
“Oh dear. You have my deepest sympathies. You might just have to miss out on that fifteen percent increase for the sixth consecutive year, Kato-san.” Yuuto grinned blithely, with all the sincerity of any good politician. “Or perhaps you’ll just cut a few thousand jobs and have it anyway.”
The chairman fumed. “This is preposterous! We are going to call your bluff- we won’t pay! You don’t have the power to enforce it.”
Yuuto simply turned to the papers on his desk and began to shuffle through them. “I suppose not. But it seems that a rather large shipment of electronics headed for North America has been stopped by government investigators just this evening. Illegal workers on board, or something to that effect…”
The chairman nearly choked, face going redder and redder. “That- that isn’t- you can’t…”
“Can’t what, Kato-san? It would be such a shame for it all to be confiscated.” Yuuto scanned down a certain page. “Twenty billion yen worth of merchandise aboard? Oh my. That’s a lot of money isn’t it?
“And to think…” His smile deepened. “That the new tax would only cost you a little more than five…”
The chairman was practically spitting with rage at this point, but Yuuto was certain the message had not been lost. “Without corporate backing, the voters will not have you in power much longer.” He said finally, with as much threat as he could muster.
“Oh?” Yuuto cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. “I seem to have missed the part where I became an elected official. And I think the electorate needs the new airports that money will buy more than they need an ancient company with most of its jobs overseas.”
It was honestly amusing to watch the old man try to come up with a response to that. He mumbled something under his breath, finally, and closed the connection.
“Good evening to you as well.” Yuuto smiled winningly at the blank screen.
Where was he? Ah yes, the end of the world. He spun back around to face the window, admiring the city lights that stretched into the distance. They faded into the city’s smog- visible even at this hour thanks to the cold- blurring various shades of neon and fluorescents. It was not the skyline of his youth- so many important buildings and monuments were gone- but Tokyo still felt the same.
He remembered the joy that followed the end of the 1999 earthquakes; so many had feared the total destruction of their beloved city, and no doubt the Seal’s gladness at having prevented a far worse Fate. Oh, they’d buried their dead and reveled in their victory… But it was not so long before the reality of the situation hit, as it so often does.
Nearly one fifth of Japan’s population had resided in the Tokyo-Yokohama area. The evacuation of the city had put a terrible strain on the surrounding regions and on the nation itself. Even with billions of dollars in international aid, it had been almost impossible to help the millions suddenly homeless and unemployed. The property damage was staggering… the Shinjuku highrises alone would cost trillions of yen to replace, leaving aside the major roads and one of the most costly, sophisticated bridges in the world. But it was the shutting down of the nation’s largest center of commerce that hurt the most- weeks without imports or exports, bother airports at a standstill, the headquarters of the major companies vacant; countless thousands of hours of labour lost.
It was the final blow to Japan’s already struggling economy; the collapse that toppled the Nikkei out of the world markets and saw the yen plummet past the currencies of many third-world nations. The old zaibatsu crumbled and left the few survivors like Sony and Mitsubishi to war over the scraps of what little remained. It wasn’t long before the nation could not even afford the imported food and fuel it was so dependant on, and consumption of these per capita had dropped to post-war levels. The years to follow were a nightmare of street wars and food riots.
The people looked for someone to blame, and the LDP was voted out of the government for the first time in over forty years in favour of short-term splinter factions promising ‘the solution’ to the nation’s insurmountable problems.
Japan’s only salvation came not from outside help or the plans of the various ‘visionaries’ that had popped up, but rather from the fall of much of the rest of the world past its own sorry economic state.
With an economy so intrinsically linked to Japan’s, and the sudden shortage of electronics and cars, the US struggled to fill the void. The only other major supplier for the world’s largest consumer of goods was Europe, and the European Union refused to sell at the same prices as Japan once did. While the US tried to build an infrastructure for these good and compete with an alliance of nations that could finally come close to rivaling its own economic might, it had the misfortune of electing a highly conservative government that saw high import duties, corporate tax cuts, and war as the only answer. It brought a crusade to the Middle East to seize foreign oil- but received only international scorn and lost faith amongst its own citizens as a result. All the while, the corporations, with their new freedoms, slowly took control at home.
One act of ‘terrorism’, one nuclear weapon launched, and one retributive strike from Israel later, and suddenly the deserts- and the oil fields- were glass and nothing but a puppet government left in DC, courtesy of GM and Microsoft.
There was still oil left in South America, but growing unrest in the several of the most important nations grew to a climax when faced with a decrease in US consumption. The sudden high demand brought about a new force for industrialization- and the systematic destruction of all the natural rain forests that remained- in some, total anarchy in others and governments fought rebels and individual interests for control.
Yuuto smiled wryly at the memories. This was the world the Dragon’s of Heaven had fought so hard to save. And this was the leaving out the best part- the war that still raged across Asia to this day.
Despite the government’s best attempts to deny it, satellite images did not lie- China’s supply of fresh water was gone in the next decade, leaving northern China a desert and over a billion people very thirsty. Refusing to halt its rapid industrial progression- and thus most of the water consumption- the Chinese looked at purchasing foreign water. The only nation with enough spare fresh water was Canada, and that country had issued a total moratorium on water sales ages ago.
Siberia was close, had fresh water, and also refused to sell, but the Chinese were beyond asking at that point. Russia was too poor to match up militarily, but this seemed to be the perfect opportunity for North Korea to try its hand at expansion- right into South Korean and Chinese territory. Needless to say, it did not go over well with either. There was very little the UN could do in the face of a full-scale war, with one half of the Security Council chasing ghosts in the Middle East and the other half firmly ‘not involved’.
And the JSDF? Japan could barely afford to pay the JSDF. The fact that it was ‘not an army’ aside, of course.
Yuuto shook his head, oddly amused. Levels of AIDS were over fifty percent in most African countries, if their people survived their own dictators and widespread famine long enough to die from it. India had over one billion inhabitants before global warming flooded much of the sea-level areas and kill a few hundred million of those. In the midst of all this, the Kyoto Accord had been left to rot.
Japan would have followed the same path as the US to total corporate control had it not been the personal quest of a very able and determined Prime Minister to prevent just this from happening. It was the current government’s goal to pick up the pieces and rebuild Japan after so many years of chaos, and that meant starting at the beginning and building a foundation among the people.
And if Mitsubishi really wanted to contend that and use force, Yuuto had the number of a certain pretty onmyouji with a very hungry spirit waiting to be fed with the blood of just that kind of traitor.
But enough reminiscing. If he waited much longer he would be late for his date tonight. Yuuto stood and stretched, giving his blond hair a quick comb-through with his fingers before reaching for his coat.
The Prime Minister was not the kind of woman to be kept waiting. Pity her husband couldn’t seem to appreciate that as much as Yuuto did.
Even if it was the path to hell, Kigai Yuuto felt he might as well enjoy himself along the way.
* * *
…As the blade of the Dragon of Heaven’s holy sword cut deeply into his chest. He had not even tried to defend against the attack- the last of the gold fading from his eyes like the final rays of light disappearing behind the horizon after sunset- and a faint but genuine smile masked the pain he must have felt. For an agonizing moment, as realization of what he had done slowly awakened in his Twin Star, the only sound to be heard was the clattering of a useless sword to the walkway below.
Kamui released the hilt of his sword as if burned. “No…” He whispered breathlessly, denying the only cruel alternative Fate had left them.
And then Fuuma was falling; too heavy for Kamui to support, though he tried- he tried- and both of them fell together. Kamui didn’t know what he had broken during the fall, pressed down under the weight of the dying form of his best friend, the last person he loved… his slowly breaking heart had drowned out all other concerns.
“Why?” He gasped, his voice weak, hollow, and pitiful. Tears had already begun to fall past his pale cheeks.
Fuuma managed to raise his head, shaking with the effort, still wearing that faintly blissful smile. He pressed his lips to Kamui’s face with an achingly familiar gentleness. “I told you… as soon as I became the Earth’s Kamui… the future was already decided.
“…I could never kill you.”
Pinned underneath the larger boy’s weight, Kamui could only move one hand. He laced his fingers through Fuuma’s, tiny sobs escaping him while his clothes soaked through with Fuuma’s blood. It was so much warmer than the boy himself…
“This isn’t what I wanted.” Kamui choked, taking some small comfort in the press of Fuuma’s fingers back against his own. “I just wanted you back…”
The other boy shook his head slowly, though his expression remained soft and sweet. “What you really wanted… was to change fate… This was the only way to do it…”
Kamui started sobbing in earnest and Fuuma leaned down to press the younger boy’s face against his. “Sssh… I’m… happy. You’re so strong, Kamui… you really wanted to … protect me…”
“I wanted to give you… the chance to be happy, too…” His voice was growing quieter and more distant with each moment.
Kamui began to tremble. “No! I won’t be! Not alone! You- you said you would kill me! I-I!” His words were almost hysterical, dripping with grief.
Fuuma raised his head one last time, to look into the other boy’s eyes with an expression so full of emotion on the normally stoic boy it stunned Kamui into silence. “I… also… promised to… protect you. No one can keep… all of their promises. We just… have to… choose the ones… that are most important.” His voice was so quiet Kamui had to strain to hear it.
“You… were always… the most important… More than… her… more than… the world… more than… anything….I… …. … I…” His strength was failing, and no more sound escaped his lips.
Kamui’s own voice echoed his Twin Star’s lips, moving before he knew what he had said.
“I love you.”
He had just enough time to see the brilliant smile that flashed across the other boy’s face before he finally collapsed; the fingers wrapped around Kamui’s going limp.
“Fuuma…?” He said quietly, knowing he would receive no answer. Still, it was enough for more tears to fall, and wailing sobs of the other boy’s name to accompany them. He did not know how long he cried… Long after the body atop him had grown cold, long after the tears had blurred his vision so badly he could barely see the sky.
Soft footfalls broke into the tiny whimpering that followed. There was a rustle of fabric as a black figure knelt beside him. Kamui blinked rapidly, drawing a pretty face and empty, mismatched eyes into focus.
“Your kekkai over the city is still standing.” The Sakurazukamori told him gently, remnants of familiar kindness not quite yet lost from his voice. “But the Tower is going to fall. You did not put it up in time to save it.”
“…Subaru?” Kamui whispered hopefully. “You stayed?” The hope died quickly enough as he realized what Subaru had said. “You mean I was too late? Everything is still going to be destroyed?”
“No. You saved us- this kekkai is useless now. Yours will stand.” Subaru’s expression did not change. “I came to give you a choice. The Tower is falling, and the other Seals will be too late.”
Kamui nodded, eyes flicking to Fuuma’s still form. “I understand.”
Subaru offered his gloved hand. “Then…?”
Kamui had never felt so empty… despite Fuuma’s words, death had never seemed more peaceful. If everyone was safe, there was no reason for him to stay. No more people depending on him. He’d saved the world like they’d all wanted and now it was his turn to be happy. He turned to Subaru, ready to tell him he would stay with the one he loved and thank him for the kindness.
Something made the words die on his lips- just a hint of the loving and gentle man he’d clung to so long ago reflected in one green eye. He suddenly remembered that not everyone he loved was waiting for him there.
He reached out for Subaru’s hand instead. “I still have one more thing to live for.” He managed to smile past his tears.
He was taking a great risk, he knew.
But risk is the essence of hope- one cannot have one without the other.
Mere minutes after leaving the square to return to the streets, as expected, a black foreign car with tinted windows pulled up beside Kamui. He was used to this- the few times he’d run contracts for this employer before, he’d been watched and questioned. Miyazaki Tashiro was nothing if not thorough. Kamui climbed inside after a quick look to the streets around him.
Miyazaki was one of those men that it was nearly impossible to discern the age of- he could have been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty- with a face full of hard lines and hair that was graying at the temples. Though very few young people could lay claim to the same icy, calculating eyes. Little else was remarkable about the man- average height and build, black suit and tie- save for the colourful tattoos so conspicuously covering his neck and backs of his hands.
That meant yakuza, Kamui knew. The oldest surviving form of organized crime in Japan, now facing serious competition from the younger generation and their Western influences, and the waves of foreigners escaping the war. Kamui didn’t know the details- nor did he much care- but Miyazaki paid very well, and that was all Kamui wanted out of an employer at the moment.
Not to mention that he didn’t ask questions about the wrong things- Kamui’s other main requirement. Especially not about the obvious. He’d just been out on the streets one night and run into a group similar to the one he’d just taken care of and been forced to defend himself. Kamui supposed that, his powers aside, he did not cut a very striking figure alone on the streets of Tokyo; all of one hundred and sixty centimeters and fifty kilos soaking wet. ‘Easy prey’ for people like that. The heart of last winter, when his lover had been deathly ill, he’d been in no mood for niceties. One of Miyazaki’s men must have seen it… it wasn’t more than a day later that he’d received a formal visit from the man himself to thank him and offer him a job should he need it. No questions about his power, strange as it must seem. His lover’s return to health was a great deal thanks to him… not to mention that knowing Miyazaki meant knowing a lot of… other… people.
No one he knew would approve of this. But he’d stopped caring what they thought more than a decade ago.
“Things went much as I had expected then, Shirou-kun?” Traces of a lingering Kansai accent still marked Miyazaki’s speech. Kamui nodded. “You were polite, of course.”
“Yeah.” It was true- he’d been perfectly behaved for once, as he recalled. “But they weren’t going to back down.”
It was Miyazaki’s turn to nod and look thoughtful. “You didn’t kill all of them.”
“You didn’t ask me to.” It was one of Kamui’s rules: he would only kill if they tried to kill him first. He was no contract killer- he’d seen enough of what that line of work did to a person to stay as far away from it as he could.
“True. But I would have. You are gaining something of a reputation as a result.” Miyazaki told him frankly. “Certain aspects of your life are no longer as secret as you would doubtless like them to be, and you are not as safe as you once were.”
Kamui shrugged. He didn’t much care. There wasn’t anything they could do to him- not with his powers.
“Either way, I trust it went well?” Miyazaki liked to keep things as short as Kamui did- another point in his favour, as far as Kamui was concerned.
“Yeah. No problems.” Kamui closed his eyes tiredly.
“Then you should go home.”
Kamui didn’t need Miyazaki to tell him twice. There were still a few things he had left to do tonight, and he was already exhausted. He declined his employer’s usual offer of a ride back to his apartment- these were things that required this particular section of the city, much to his dismay. He bowed quickly to the older man and stepped out of the car. The driver was good- Kamui was sure no one had seen him.
A few blocks down was a different story. The streets were full of milling crowds, still haunting the nightclubs on the strips of Old Shinjuku. Very little remained as he recalled it; all of the old pretenses were gone- he’d had more offers of things to kill the night away with- drugs or flesh or programs- than he could count before he reached the one corner he wanted. And it was just as likely to be offered in Mandarin or Korean as Japanese- something unthinkable in his youth.
Her friends were all there, but a quick scan of the group gathered at her usual place failed to find her. Kamui grit his teeth and stepped forward. “Excuse me.” He asked one girl, clad in little more than a few strips of leather, hoping against hope that she’d even understand him. “Do you know where Aoki Yuka is?”
The girl stared at him blankly. “Yuka? Yuka… I don’t know a Yuka.” Her look turned slightly appraising and she smiled sweetly with teeth that, in this section of the city, had to be fake. “Is she your regular girl? Trust me, honey, you won’t even remember her name after one night with me.”
Kamui tried his best to bite back a scathing response about the necessity of teeth at all in her profession, but despite his best efforts one of her friends cut in just in time to interrupt him. “Oh, you’re not his type, sweetie. He’s talking about Enjeru- this is the old gay man that follows her around and tries to make her go back home to her bitch of a mother.”
Kamui held his temper this time- this one might actually know where she was- even though Aoki Shimako was one of the sweetest women he knew, the trait wasn’t necessarily genetic. He had no idea what lies Yuka had told since running away from home, and he didn’t really care. He did this for the sake of an old friend’s memory, not for her. “So she’s Enjeru now. Do you know where she is?”
“Sorry, old man, but you’re out of luck- she’s with her boyfriend right now.”
“And where is that?” ‘Boyfriend’ was not something he liked to hear, given the situation.
“Why the hell should I-!” She started to turn away, but Kamui grabbed her wrist before she could pull away into the crowd and bent it backwards. He caught the other before it could go for a weapon.
“I’m sure Yuka’s told you enough about me to know that if you call out for help, you aren’t doing your friends any favours.” Kamui said evenly. He didn’t have time to be jerked around by some hooker. “Just tell me where she is, okay? I’m not going to hurt her or try to take her home.” That, after all, would be pointless. She’d just run away again.
She scowled at him. “Whatever. She’s in the back.”
“You had better not be lying.” Kamui warned, and released her. He ignored their subsequent taunting about his sexual preferences and headed into the club behind them. He cut his way through the dance floor and straight to the rooms at the back. He opened a few doors- and offered no apologies to those he’d interrupted inside- before he found her.
In retrospect, he probably could have picked a better time to walk in on them- sprawled on a couch, half-leaning over the low table in front, indulging in whatever blue substance they’d decided they’d rather have instead of food- but he was sure it could have been worse, too. “Yuka.”
She looked up with a suddenness that surprised Kamui- before he saw her wide-eyed, glassy expression and the slight twitch of her fingers when she moved them. He did his best not to look too disgusted. As he recalled, she’d been a pretty enough girl growing up- nothing stunning; true beauty didn’t run in her family- but now she was far too thin, with ruined hair and patchy skin. “Damnit, Kamui… can’t you see I’m busy?” Her voice was lower and weaker than he remembered, too.
“Who’s this guy?” The boyfriend, he assumed, did not look pleased to see him either. He ignored Kamui altogether and turned on her. “Have you been fucking around on me?”
Yuka shook her head rapidly. “No- no! He’s nobody, really. Just some guy my dad used to know. What do you want?” Her boyfriend hardly looked satisfied with the answer, but yet again… Kamui didn’t care.
“Your mother wants you to come home for the New Year. You don’t have to stay- she just wants to see you.” She didn’t look impressed by the offer, but he suspected she might consider it later for the sake of real food and a warm bed. “And, you know, the usual: Nokoru’s offer still stands for you to take up university at the Campus, so does Karen’s offer for you to stay at her place until you sort things out, and Yuzuriha insists that if you really need to get away from home, you should enlist.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “Do any more of the people that got my dad killed have some pity for me?”
Kamui sighed. “Just one.” He reached into his pocket, and tossed a few bills onto the table. “Use it to buy something useful, alright?”
“Hey! He’s giving you money?” Her boyfriend looked even less pleased. “You lying slut- who is this guy?!” He made a grab for the money himself, but Yuka was a little faster. Kamui saw his next move coming probably before even he did, and certainly before Yuka did. He slapped her across the face and took it anyway.
Kamui sighed. He weighed his options: to let her learn her lesson, or to help her out, which she probably wouldn’t thank him for and she’d end up giving it to him eventually anyway. Still, though, it was his money. And he wasn’t about to let it go to waste on some worthless piece of street garbage. “Give it back.”
“You still here? Get the hell out- this is none of your business.” The boyfriend spat at him, while Yuka put her hands over her face and began to cry quietly. Soft, light, almost soundless tears… it stirred up something in Kamui that he tried never to let leave his own apartment. His fists clenched reflexively.
“Give it back. Or I’ll kill you.” It was no empty threat, and Kamui sincerely hoped he tried to test it.
“You wanna’ fight?!” The boyfriend stared at him incredulously. “You?! Alright- let’s go!” He stood up; still a little shaky with the effects of whatever they’d taken, looking down at other man, head and shoulders taller. He couldn’t have known, of course, that it didn’t matter. Those nearly inaudible sobs had already dragged up the kind of memories that made Kamui snarl.
He didn’t know if the man would have ever really hit him- and he supposed he never would: Kamui’s power turned the air to static as he unleashed into the dead center of the other man’s chest.
-then fight me seriously-
There was a terrible crunching noise as his ribs shattered, droplets of blood raining out across the floor. A few hit Kamui’s face, but Yuka was mostly spared them. The body knocked the table over as it fell, and Yuka’s sobs grew louder and less familiar, ending the spell of rage that had taken Kamui for a moment. He stared down at what he’d just done, trying to think of what he could say.
“I did warn him.” He managed. She was almost certainly better off without him, but he doubted she’d see it that way right about now. “Look- if you come home for the New Year, I can promise I won’t be there.”
That was about the best comfort he could offer. Upon receiving no response, he left her to her grief. There was just one more thing he had to do before he could put all this behind him.
Next, a few blocks down- he wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve before he went there, of course- was what appeared to be another ruined old building. Kamui’d been there a few times already, so no one stopped him at the door. Down a few flights of dimly lit stairs was a club of sorts, though not the kind he remembered from his youth. He paid at the entrance, noting that there were only a few terminals free, even at this hour.
Here was where those who couldn’t afford state of the art computers gathered to indulge in the finest new technology. Or had other reasons to want to use them as such a place, like anonymity, as Kamui did. The liquid crystal monitors gave the best 3-D picture he’d seen yet- years ahead of the cheap holographics most people used at home. He’d heard they still had the old towers and keyboards and things like that in the back for a retro feel, but it had been years since Kamui had bothered to type anything. He much preferred the iGloves and their electrical impulse sensors- it didn’t tire his fingers quite so much. He took a seat at one of the free stations and switched the computer on.
He had one at home, of course, but there were certain things he wouldn’t enjoy having traced back to his account. He slipped on the wired glove beside the screen and logged on- a few flicks of his fingers later, and he had accessed his private bank accounts. There was just enough… Miyazaki had added a little extra.
Merry Christmas to you, too. Kamui silently thanked him. He hated having to rely on his lover’s work; it was sporadic at best. He turned on some music on the side bar, and was about to look at some other sites when an unexpected voice broke into the stream of music; hard to discern from the computer generated female voices used so often for instructions these days.
Kamui.
Familiar as it was to him now, it still made him jump slightly. He typed a quick response. How did you find me here, Satsuki? This isn’t my access.
There was a pause and perhaps an edge of amusement from the voice- it was getting more and more difficult to tell. Beast recognizes you, of course. You have a very distinctive presence.
Kamui wasn’t sure what to say to that.
In any case, I have arranged a meeting with the people you were seeking. They are eager to meet you. I’ll send you the details more securely.
Do you really think they can do it? Kamui eyed the account listing again. That was a lot of money… enough to go to Europe, perhaps. Escape it all… But that was a hopeless fantasy. It would be nothing more than a change of scenery for the hell they’d built together.
I’m fairly certain they can. Beast reminds me that there is a small probability of error, but the success rate is very high.
Good. It would be worth it, he told himself. Even if there was no way for everyone to be happy, there was no reason- save spite, he supposed- that everyone should be unhappy. Thank you again, Satsuki. I couldn’t have done this without you.
…My pleasure. You haven’t ceased to entertain me, Kamui. Beast is also curious as to whether or not what you’re planning will work. Beast is skeptical, but admits its knowledge of the mystical is insufficient to calculate your chances of success.
I’m moved by its confidence. Kamui responded dryly. And what do you think my chances are?
I have seen many things done with those kinds of powers… but this is a little extreme. I desire to see the method of what you are planning to do, exactly. If you succeed, you would be comparable to the ‘gods’ of human legend.
Kamui looked down at the scars on his hands and wrists, an expression caught between pain and amused irony on his face. …That’s me. Godlike.
I will see you then and discover the truth of that. I know you won’t disappoint.
I know you won’t either. Kamui replied, uncertain if she was gone before or after he’d typed it. He supposed it didn’t really matter. Manners were useless to machines.
He closed the browser and slipped out of the chair, heading back out into the cold streets. Once safely out of sight of the teeming nightlife he dropped the pretense he kept among the masses:
He leapt.
The jump easily cleared the smaller buildings and he landed lightly atop a high rise not far from his apartment. He could rarely travel like this during the day anymore- not with all the helicopters around the city- but at night he was scarcely more than a shadow. It was only a few minutes to home this way, from nearly anywhere in Tokyo.
It wasn’t exactly the best building in the city- a far cry from the rich estates closer to the old buildings- but it was clean and the power always worked, and the rooms were bigger than the tiny eight by eights whole families often lived in these days. It was much nicer than two men with no apparent sources of income should have been able to afford. He entered the pass code on the roof door- the manager didn’t really ask anymore- and slipped inside.
No one was wandering the halls at this hour, not that Kamui would have spoken to anyone if they had, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed beside another warm body and sleep for hours. It had been an altogether trying night and he’d been out much later than he’d intended- he had no doubt that the other man would be asleep by now. He made his way to the familiar apartment- he could make it out even in the dark or intoxicated thanks to the time he’d returned so once and forgot the number to unlock it… the door had never really been the same since and he hadn’t bothered to replace it- and started to punch in the number on the keypad beside the door.
He could tell almost immediately that something was amiss. On closer inspection, the casing was loose and the wires had been tampered with. That’s odd, he thought. He froze suddenly, recalling Miyazaki’s words and for the first time the fear that should have accompanied them.
Certain aspects of your life are no longer as secret as you would doubtless like them to be, and you are not as safe as you once were.
Kamui slammed his shoulder into the door with the intent to shatter it this time, heedless of the damage. His very world could be breaking at this moment…
“SUBARU!!!”
Main