A Wing and a Prayer A Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle vignette Sephy Some other world, at around the same time… Kotori was dead. Even as he flew onward, the knowledge was still seeking to hammer its way home, Kamui choking down a sob, still seeing in his mind the slow spraying arch of blood as the blade bit through her neck -- No, he shook his head, wild and aching, better not to think of her that way. Better to think of Kotori as he'd last seen her, alive, the sunshine threading through her hair, soft waves of gold lifting as she flew through the air on pearlescent wings, white and pure where his own were dark and almost leathery in comparison. Better to think of the music of her laughter, warm and rich as she flew above him, their fingers barely grazing, always that hint of something, a potential that was now dead forever, stillborn and cut down with the clean blow of a sword wielded by the one she had loved best in this world. Her brother. Kamui scrubbed at his eyes, angling lower as a shadow passed over him, moving just out of the way of an arrow, silent and spiraling towards where his back had been just seconds earlier. He arched past the rising rock faces, trying to keep his attention both on where he was going (so as not to smash face first into the side of a mountain) and on his pursuer -- hawk-like wings predatory and efficient where Kotori's had seemed harmless, too ethereal to be real. He knew about Fuuma, even though they were of rival clans. Everyone knew of him. Fuuma had killed more than his fair share of Dark Wings, his people setting a price on the Angel's head, offering more than Kamui would ever see in his life to the one who could bring him down. A king's ransom and no one would touch it, knowing they were signing their death warrant in the attempt. Those in the past who had attempted to bring the Angel down had fallen, what was left of them not worth salvaging. He had always imagined that were he to face Fuuma, what he would find would be more monster than man, laughing cruelly and perhaps licking a knife or something but the man following him was somber, almost morose as if he took no enjoyment in this chase at all but did it because he knew he must. Because Kamui had been stupid enough to be spotted, crying out in that instant this man's sword chopped through Kotori's slender white throat, revealing himself and forfeiting the life Kotori had tried to save for him. He knew the rules, laws that had existed for thousands of years between their clans and he'd broken them, broken them without thought or care. There was no one who could save him from that, no one who would help him. When, if his clan found out, they would turn their backs on him completely, not that they hadn't already been looking for the chance, to be rid of the poor orphan bastard left to depend on the charity of the community. How he hated them and their patronizing words, the pats on the head that should have been comforting but came off as empty. In the whole of his life only his mother and then Kotori had treated him with anything approaching real kindness. And if nothing else, in meeting Kotori, at least he had made his own decision, taking his life in his hands and giving it to her. It wasn't something he regretted. He only wished he could have done more for her, wished that he had saved her, the memory of bright cerulean eyes awash with tears, standing tall and proud as she tried not to cry out, understanding as everyone in that courtyard had that this was the Law. She had broken it, she had dragged a Dark Wing into a haven of Angels, had spoken with him and played with him, had kissed him just that morning -- And now everything was undone. Not even Fuuma, for all Kotori's assurances to Kamui that her brother loved her and would somehow understand, had been able to do anything more than obey what was written, pain bright in the dark of the other man's eyes as he turned, splattered with Kotori's life blood and spotting Kamui as his scream echoed through the valley. Kamui shoved himself forward, arching through a rend in one of the stone walls, biting his lip hard as it scratched his wings but somehow making it through. Fuuma was too large to pass through something like that and if nothing else, he hoped he could buy more time. More time for what he had no idea. He was only delaying the inevitable. He was going to die, that's what all of this meant. He was going to die just as Kotori had died and no one in his clan would be the wiser. No one in his clan would care that he had disappeared, probably thinking themselves well rid of a long-standing burden. Keeping low, he rode the thermals, the air steadily growing cooler the further out he pushed himself. He'd never been this far from home before, not without someone else and he had only the vaguest of ideas where he was. None of the rock formations looked terribly familiar and the land was starting to recede, grass dying into tufts and bent trees, the air more stale here, brisk against his tongue. He followed the thinning ravine for some time, wings starting to ache from the strain. Without much warning, the walls expanded outward again into a world of fog and mist, the sound of rushing water thundering in his ears. This was unfamiliar, unknown and he hesitated, threading the air and hovering out in the open, trying to decide which way to turn. That was a fatal mistake. There was no warning, no rush of air or sound to herald Fuuma's arrival, just hands grabbing his wings, one trying to grab his throat and Kamui panicked, wings fluttering backward, slapping his assailant. Fuuma grunted, trying to keep a hold on his chin and turn, his other hand pulling hard at the branching tissue of where his wing joined his back, wringing a pained scream out of Kamui. He lashed out again, face turning downward to bite into fingers and enough force from his uninjured wing that he managed to break free -- Only to drop straight down into the mists like a stone, Fuuma hovering above like some sort of dark cloud, obviously trying to decide if it was worth it to follow him. Rolling onto his belly, Kamui tried to straighten his wings, to catch another draft but his left wing refused to respond, fluttering at a bad angle. He did find a way to slow his descent, straining his other wing to near breaking. It wasn't enough to halt but it did give him several more awful seconds to contemplate the large splattering he was about to make against the rocks below. And then he spotted something, water and -- something else, ruins from the looks of things, a network of fallen marble columns and broken icons, statues that must have once looked noble and majestic as they towered over their makers lying in so many pieces. The place was swathed with the same fog he was falling through, thick and almost blue in the darkness, just a few glints of light aiding his sight, water rippling and he rolled towards it, fingers already scrabbling, looking for something to cling to, to break his fall, or at least keep him from smashing full force into the water which would hurt just as much as solid rock. He knew this place. It was sacred or cursed depending on who you asked, a place where ancient gods had once lived. The ancestors of his people and the Angels had come from here, moving outward until the way had been lost, lost in all but tales of old glory and fearful wanderings. Kamui knew this place but he had never thought to see it. Granted, he was seeing it in the five seconds it took for him to catch the branch of a dying beech-tree, the momentum of his fall numbing his arm as he was yanked to a halt, bouncing up and gritting his teeth, tears pouring from his eyes as he held on for dear life. The tree shivered, branch cracking threateningly but mercifully, miraculously held, his toes skimming the water below him. After a moment, one that seemed to stretch and reflect in on itself forever, he let go, falling face forward into the muddy waters, muscles frozen and anguished, refusing to respond, to even allow him to lift his head as water filled his nostrils and mouth, sucking inwards until he felt as if he were swallowing the river whole, the only thing keeping his body partially out of the water a broken column he found himself somehow attached to. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to die like this, not in this stinking sinkhole, surrounded by putrid and decaying matter, swamp water filling his lungs until his vision burned and began to darken around the edges. There had to be something else, something more to his life than just dying uselessly like this. Just before he passed out, Kamui felt hands sliding underneath his arms, strong and cold, as cold as the broken marble he was clinging to and just as hard. There was something unearthly about this, about being lifted so easily out of the muck when he couldn't even get up himself, his left wing hanging uselessly. He coughed, the nasty water filling his nose and mouth suddenly replaced by air, choking and spitting it out, face low to the ground even as his arms were held aloft. It hurt, coughing like this, ribs feeling bruised from the fall but nothing in comparison to the throb of that damaged wing, wondering if it was broken and how bad the break was. He knew well enough that sometimes a bad enough break meant only one thing -- amputation and he'd be damned if he let that happen, if he let himself be crippled and unable to fly for the rest of his life. Providing he survived long enough to enjoy it, he thought, wincing as he felt blood trickle down his back, oddly numb -- the only wound that was. Kamui raised his head, trying to blink away hazing vision, the roar in his ears when he'd fallen only getting worse with each passing moment, bringing with it a dark cloud, rolling in like the fog of this swamp, covering the wreck of his body and mind but before it did so, his eyes fluttered, his good wing rearing wildly, pushed by some low level panic, more survival instinct than anything else. Green, that was the first color that registered. Vibrant green eyes, the color of sea kelp and grass and the deeper still of ancient pines, green that seemed to twinkle and at the same time look concerned, almost worried. Four green eyes -- Eyes, he realized and pulled himself up just enough to realize he was looking at someone, two someones, completely identical with soft curving features, androgynous enough to be either sex and soft black hair against skin too pale to be real. There were teeth too, teeth that seemed too pointed and glinting to be real, resting against the bottom lip of one and Kamui shuddered. He opened his mouth and tried to say something, instead spitting out more water and feeling that darkness treading ever closer, sagging forward in spite of himself but hearing just before he passed out -- "Let's keep him!" "Hokuto, no--" "Aww, come on, Subaru. Geez, you're just no fun at all sometimes. Look, he'll die if we don't help him." "But I don't think --" "Subaru, why not? We can take him with us and I know you've always wanted a pet." "Well, yes but --" "Then I say we keep him!" There was a pause. "Um…What do you think of the name 'Fluffy'?" "For what?" "For him." "Hokuto, you can't name him Fluffy!" "Cuddles?" "Hokuto!" ***End return to splash page