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Gravity A CLAMP fanfiction by Amet and Sephy Chapter 1 Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory. -- Albert Schweitzer "I don't suppose I could convince you to break for tea?" Takamura Suoh, secretary of CLAMP Academy's High School Student Council, looked up from the schedules arranged haphazardly in front of him to meet his Chairman's indolent gaze from where the blonde was dwarfed quite neatly by the marble monstrosity of his desk. He paused, sighing heavily as the older boy blinked large, purposely guileless eyes at him and leaned forward in his chair, restlessly twirling a pen. Nokoru looked particularly miserable half-slumping against his day planner, an unfinished stack of paperwork teetering dangerously at his side which, after Suoh had grudgingly allowed his senpai to run off yesterday, was now big enough to tower over his friend even when he stood. This was Imonoyama Nokoru, the youngest scion of Japan's largest zaibatsu and arguably the most ostentatious son in a family famed for its colorful personalities. Blue eyed, blonde, baby faced and nearly a head shorter than Suoh, the boy was as flamboyant in appearance as he was in mannerism and he did things with a flourish whether it was appropriate to the situation or not. Usually this involved any variation on a theme of avoiding his responsibilities as chairman of the student council, using the genius level intellect and sharp wit that had earned him the job to think up new and exciting (read: ridiculous) things that he and his fellow council members really needed to be doing in lieu of actually finishing the heaps of schedules, proposals and funding release forms that crossed their desks on a daily basis. It wasn't always a bad thing, and Suoh rather reluctantly admitted that Nokoru's little adventures at least kept the lot of them entertained, but the older boy's unending flightiness also made his job that much less about paperwork and that much more about babysitting his wayward superior in the hopes of turning the blonde's attention towards his responsibilities long enough to buckle down and get past the growing stack of paperwork threatening to drown them all. "I wouldn't bother," he answered mildly, "If I were you." Suoh watched, eyes narrowing suspiciously as Nokoru rolled his eyes and stretched his arms over his head, a certain amount of calculated negligence in the movement as he arched his back, cat-like, allowing the button-down of his uniform to ride up just enough to be distracting. "Really," Nokoru replied, "It's a wonder I have any free time at all. How I'm expected to not only outsmart but outrun someone of your caliber, a world class ninja no less, is beyond me. As much as I love your company, Suoh," he paused, throwing Suoh a particularly loaded glance, "Sometimes I think I might have picked someone a little less..." "Intelligent?" Suoh interjected, resting his chin against a fist, returning his chairman's gaze with an even stare of his own. He supposed he might have allowed himself some small resentment at even the passing mention of someone else in his place, but Suoh knew the blonde didn't mean it and was hardly willing to allow Nokoru the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him over some casual remark. The threads of fate connected them in far more important ways than their tenure in student government, and no amount of petulant teasing on the chairman's part would ever change that. Suoh was still a Takamura, after all, and the Takamura protected their chosen until death, whining or no. He had sworn to use his hard earned skills to protect this one years ago, when the blonde had still been an isolated boy too afraid to make a friend for fear that the wealth he represented would see them harmed by some miscreant with a grudge against the Imonoyama, and his faith in that decision had never once wavered, even in the middle of the chairman's most hair-brained schemes. He would always have a place at Nokoru's side -- as his first friend outside the insulating influence of his family, the first outsider to see the true face of the youngest Imonoyama, and the protector he knew Nokoru was terrified of bringing to harm. They had grown so inseparable in the intervening years together that Nokoru would no more countenance being rid of him than Suoh could manage anything beyond mild annoyance at his senpai's antics. The annoyance, however, was so constant it was almost comfortable. "I don't know what you're moaning about. You seem to manage being a pain in the butt just fine, even with me trailing after you." "Now Suoh, that's unfair." Nokoru pouted, looking suitably affronted, and there was nothing more disturbing than watching the chairman turn something so exaggerated into an honest expression. "You told me it didn't hurt at all last time!" Then there was the matter of the somewhat... unconventional turn their relationship had recently taken. Suoh still found himself blushing, face -- as well as more uncomfortable parts of his body -- suffused with heat at the merest mention of the newest aspect to their affair, even more than a month after those first whispered confessions and hesitant touches had led to... ah... consummation. And damn Nokoru if he hadn't found that lingering demureness hilarious. "That was not what I was talking about, and you know it." He grumbled, folding his arms over his chest defensively. "Stop trying to distract me and do your paperwork." He didn't like that hopeful glint in Nokoru's eyes, and today he was determined not to give in to it, no matter how horribly attractive the blonde managed to make even a pathetic moue. The fact of the matter was that they were in high school now, and a certain amount of decorum was expected, despite how much he might have wanted to just forget about work and call home with whatever excuse he could manage to give his mother so that he could follow Nokoru home for the night and... erm... play. Another full minute of staring, and Suoh decided to take another route. "You do realize that with twenty minutes of concentration you'd likely finish the stack, right? And then you'd have all the time in the world to fool around." He didn't realize what he'd said until Nokoru's smile widened, a grin as predatory as anything the Cheshire Cat might have worn smirking down at its hapless prey and Suoh almost flinched as the chairman rose from his seat, slinking out from behind his own desk to perch on the edge of Suoh's. "When you say fool around," Nokoru asked, "Do you mean it more in the literal sense or in the," He paused, flicking air quotation marks with his fingers, "figurative sense?" There were times when Suoh could have sworn Nokoru's eyes were actually bluer than normal, a deeper cerulean than the carefully crafted waterways of the botanical gardens, glinting hues of sea-green and shaded sapphire in sunlight, jewel-like and almost unnatural in a human face. Which was ridiculous, and Nokoru himself would have told him it was all a matter of perception filtered through infatuation, or whatever they were calling the feeling between them these days. There was just something about Nokoru when his interest was piqued, a sense of endless possibility opening beneath the weight of that infamous intellect, and it was hard not to be swept up in that enthusiasm with those eyes wide and wanting... things. Even if he was just after a bit of attention, Nokoru had always been impressively needy with those few he chose to hold close to his heart and it was hard to refuse him knowing how much he valued their companionship, a heady feeling for Suoh to know how badly he'd been needed, even long before either of them had ever imagined sharing any kind of physical intimacy. The kiss, when it came, was light. A brief touch of lips against his, just long enough to feel the tip of Nokoru's tongue flicker out, offering, and he reached out a hand to steady Nokoru's rather awkward position twisted across his desk. His head tipped back obligingly, lips parting and tongue darting out in acceptance and he felt more than heard Nokoru's satisfied hum as the older boy nearly fell against him, hands tangling insistently into the fabric of his shirt. It never ceased to amaze Suoh that something so awkward, the strangely comfortable slide of lips and tongue, managed to be quite this arousing, but he probably should not have been so surprised given their history together. It never really took much time at all for him to lose himself around his senpai and there was promise in this, a hinting of all those other things a little privacy would afford them later that lent enough intimacy to the act to make it impatient and heady. Nokoru was flushed nearly to his neckline, leaning farther forward as Suoh sat back out of reach, balancing on one arm as he darted his hand forward to grab at Suoh's collar and drag him back for another kiss. He never tired of kissing Nokoru. "Say you'll come home with me tonight?" Nokoru asked, hand sliding around to tickle the short hairs at the nape of Suoh's neck. "Say yes, and I'll..." He paused, pressing another kiss to the corner of Suoh's mouth. "I'll be a good boy for the afternoon and do my paperwork." Nokoru's fingers dipped beneath the high collar of his shirt, tracing tentatively across the jut of vertebra at the base of his neck and Suoh arched his head back, watching his lover through slitted eyes. "Promise me," he murmured, tumbling the smaller boy forward to perch on his outstretched legs, wrapping his arms around his senpai as Nokoru leaned forward to kiss him again. "Look me in the eye and swear you'll have it done in an hour and I'll call my mother to inform her that you've graciously offered to tutor me for a test I forgot I had tomorrow." Suoh often felt that the major perk of his often... atypical relationship with his family was the added benefit of being able to inform his mother of his intentions rather than being dependant on wheedling her into acquiescence like so many of his classmates were forced to do with their own parents. He was expected to be autonomous and responsible at all times despite his age, and regardless of his often strained annoyance at his mother for running him through training exercises in the middle of dinner, he appreciated his upbringing for the independence it offered. He couldn't imagine conducting himself any other way. The smile that lit Nokoru's face was blinding, a moment of quicksilver flashing behind blue eyes narrowed in satisfaction before the blonde leaned forward, teeth latching onto the lobe of Suoh's ear and tugging gently. "Alright," he murmured, breath puffing against the side of Suoh's neck, "I promise." "Look me in the eye." Nokoru sat back, feet swinging merrily as he stretched his legs on either side of the chair and grinned. "I have an hour, right?" Suoh nodded. "Good then!" They were kissing again, and Suoh wasn't really sure how that happened, ducking his head back and away for a moment before he gave up and let the older boy have his way. Nokoru broke away, nuzzling into the crook of Suoh's neck and pulling back to tip his head and stare thoughtfully. "The thought of having my way with you later is more than enough incentive to get me through a few stacks of correspondence. It's a promise." "Who said anything about me letting you have your way with me?" said Suoh, blinking in confusion as the blonde slid off his lap, sauntering back towards his own desk to grab a jacket off the back of his chair. "Is that how it is?" Nokoru grinned, throwing Suoh a glance over his shoulder as he dug around a drawer in his desk. "That's even more fun!" Suoh watched with increasing alarm as Nokoru liberated his wallet, stowing it inside his uniform jacket as he donned it, snatching up his ubiquitous fan as he turned and fairly skipped down the platform stairs from his desk before stopping to give Suoh a peck on the cheek. "Well, then! Since Akira had to run off to help his mothers for a bit, it's up to me to find snacks! I think I'll take a run down to the Duklyon Bakery for some nice, freshly baked bread." Nokoru danced out of his reach, hand on the doorknob before Suoh had even roused himself to stand. "Doesn't that sound nice right about now?" "But... you just said..." "Well yes, yes I did. But before that, you very clearly stated that it would take me all of about twenty minutes to finish that stack if I put my mind to it, and I rather think you're right. Which means..." Nokoru paused, Cheshire grin expanding. "I've got forty whole minutes to waste!" With that he was out the door, laughter echoing in the hallway as Suoh hastily grabbed his own jacket and vaulted his desk, feet hitting the marble floor with a hollow slap as he gave chase, making it out beyond the door just in time to watch his lover round the corner. At this rate they were liable to miss their afternoon appointments while Suoh chased Nokoru across the expanse of CLAMP Campus and given that their entire calendar for the day involved a single special assignment Rijichou herself had handed down that morning there was no way that kind of neglect could be overlooked. So much for decorum. He took comfort in the fact that it was now well within his power now to make Nokoru pay dearly for these little chases when they were alone at night. ------- "There's something strange about this place." Sumeragi Subaru tilted his head back just far enough to glance at the low lying branches loosing lazy drifts of flower petals onto the tram platform without knocking his hat off, precariously balanced as it was. There really was something odd about CLAMP Campus, this mix of separatist cityscape and carefully planned, artificial idyll in the middle of downtown Tokyo, an entire self-contained city said to be locked in a state of perpetual spring by the mysterious workings of quasi-scientific climate controls. He hadn't believed the rumors, not until he was actually stepping off one of the many causeways connecting Campus to the greater city beyond, the icy drifts of a Tokyo winter replaced by a sudden, startlingly tepid warmth, sun streaming bright and clear over rows of neatly planted greenery. It was all he could do to shuck the heavy woolen overcoat he'd worn all the way from Kyoto without dropping his and Hokuto-chan's bags, his sister's delighted burbles and less-than-subtle jostling the only thing keeping him from freezing stock still on the path to the tram station and gaping dumbly. He suddenly regretted that he hadn't found the time to collect more information on the history of CLAMP Academy. He hadn't had much time to prepare, Obaachan's sudden proclamation that their upcoming trip to Tokyo City would be all but restricted to the confines of CLAMP Campus in the name of their continued safety coming barely a week before final preparations were set in motion. The family had worked hard to keep him busy in the intervening time, barely an hour after one task was completed before another was thrust into his keeping, his own and his sister's questions falling on deaf ears as they struggled to keep up with this sudden insistence on security. He'd wondered more than once if something had happened -- if the Sakurazukamori had resurfaced and taken another relative after so long and if they would honestly seek to keep such information from him if it had. It was a guilty sort of disloyalty, doubting his family's attentions even knowing that Obaachan was far more experience than he. Really there was no comparison between them with the entire breadth of a life dedicated to the art bolstering her wisdom, but he wondered sometimes if he would ever make much of a family head when no one would tell him anything unless it was filtered and edited until the family elders deemed it 'safe' for his delicate constitution. They'd always insisted that he was too fragile for the outside world, despite a lifetime of training and the grave responsibility of his role as head of the Sumeragi clan. He counted himself lucky that they'd allowed him to come to Tokyo at all, even knowing that Hokuto-chan would be there to look after him. "What tipped you off?" his twin said, breaking his concentration with a playful pinch. "Because for me the whole adventure took a sharp left off the beaten path of normalcy right after our little helper there took off with our luggage." Hokuto-chan waved a hand towards the young man ambling along a few paces ahead of them, whistling a quiet, off-key tune and waving jovially at several passersby, weighted down by four of the five suitcases Subaru and his sister carried with them, overcoat thrown haphazardly over a dark, tousled head for lack of anything else to do with it as they made their way towards the station. It would have been one thing if they'd known him -- the charmingly awkward, too-lanky boy with messy dark hair and a ready smile for the twins as they clamored away from the onrush of businessmen and students coming back to campus after lunch -- but he'd barely stopped long enough for pleasantries and insistences that it "really was no trouble at all" to take on the unenviable task of balancing the bulk of their luggage, pausing awkwardly in the middle of shucking his coat as he stepped into the artificial spring, throwing them a grin and an "Oh! It's you." As if they'd had any idea what that meant. "Well yes," said Subaru, wincing a little as the boy's overcoat conspired against him, an arm falling into his eyes and nearly tumbling him to the artfully arranged cobblestones beneath, "But at least people seem friendly here. I think he thinks he's helping." "I'm alright!" the boy cried, popping up and throwing another grin over his shoulder before motioning as best he could for them to follow. "I think he needs to help himself first," Hokuto-chan snorted, shaking her head, the ostentatious rabbit ears adorning her winter hat bobbing with the motion. Subaru wondered for a moment what they looked like to these people, to this boy, decked out as they were. Their outfits weren't anything special for either of them, Hokuto-chan's little rebellion against the strict conformity of family tradition involved sewing together the most outrageous fashions she could imagine and turning herself and Subaru into human guinea pigs to test her creations. It was just one more quiet victory in her ever-constant quest for autonomy from their prescribed traditional roles that Subaru had readily agreed to the experiment. He'd never been one to openly disobey his grandmother, but he'd also never been one to dwell on his appearance and if it made Hokuto-chan happy -- his sister who had languished those long years tucked away with him at the family compound, after Obaachan had so carelessly declared her unfit for further onmyoujitsu training and left her to her own devices -- he could endure a little neon, or velvet, or even the horribly unmanly sequins she liked to threaten him with whenever he allowed too much of his time to be eaten up by his familial duties. Hokuto-chan said it was her sacred sisterly duty to teach him how to say "no" once in a while, even if it pained her to punish him so. This of course completely ignored the fact that he was very clearly saying no to her. Today Hokuto-chan insisted on something stark -- a simple black bodice over a crisp white shirt, a black satin skirt that flounced just so over three layers of petticoats and a multitude of ribbons attached in various places, flitting about wildly in the breeze kicked up by an arriving tram. Sharp heels clicked across the pavement as she clung to the black and white striped hatbox in her hands, holding it up in front of her as though to ward off evil and Subaru nearly laughed at that image, given that what she had pronounced her "very special accessories" to their would be helper was actually an overly decorated box of supplies for Subaru's work. It very well would protect her from several forms of curse and probably a stray ghost or two if she held it right. The suit she'd thrust at him that morning was similar -- a three piece affair that was mostly somber black except around the accents -- a white ribbon around the brim of his fedora, white stripes on his vest, a simple white tie. There was an overcoat as well; a long, fitted affair bleached white about the lapels, but what had seemed so necessary on the wintry trip from Kyoto was pointless inside the confines of Campus itself, the heavy woolen garment thrown over one arm as he shouldered his pack and tried not to overturn the last of their suitcases. Wheels clacked ominously against the cobblestones underfoot and he winced, wrist twisting at an unnatural angle as the striped, beribboned monstrosity wobbled beneath his hand. On second thought, he probably looked exactly like what he was, well dressed by someone else's accord and completely hopeless in new surroundings. "Um, excuse me?" he called, raising his voice as their "guide" nearly collided with a businesswoman heading for an open tram car, slowing his progress long enough to babble apologies and bat at the garment hanging over his eyes, "Where exactly are you taking... er... us?" Their instructions from Obaachan on the matter were very specific -- to head directly from the ostentatiously decorated campus gates to the offices of the high school division's student council where they would be given living and classroom assignments for their stay by the Chairman. Something in Subaru had balked at the knowledge that this entire behemoth institution was essentially run by its student representatives, self-sustained councils set up all the way from university level down to the kindergarten, offering the student body almost total autonomy within their budgetary restraints. It allowed unprecedented opportunity for freedom of movement that had been unheard of for Subaru and his sister back in Kyoto, knowing that everything from rules of conduct to curriculum and social events were both generated and approved by student body representatives. He hoped that some of that autonomy would help sooth the restlessness Hokuto-chan had been cultivating since she had been dismissed from spiritual training, languishing in obscurity back at the family estate, his twin's continued listlessness the driving factor in his acceptance of this sudden change, their grandmother's sudden insistence that as much as she didn't like it, he would have to go to Tokyo to ply his trade and prove his worthiness as the thirteenth family head as generations of Sumeragi had done before. He had no idea if he was ready to strike out on his own, almost entirely sure that Obaachan herself did not think so, but he was already of age and the way Hokuto-chan's eyes lit up at the merest suggestion of that kind of freedom steeled his courage. He would be what he had to, for her, for himself and for the good of the family. Even if he didn't feel particularly confident about any of it. "He wants to know where you're running off to with our luggage," Hokuto-chan helpfully clarified, "Not that we don't appreciate the help and all, it's just that normally when someone marches up, demands other people's luggage and runs off with it, it's not a good sign." She smiled pleasantly as their companion pivoted to gape at them, somehow managing to maintain some semblance of backwards shuffling even as he sputtered helplessly-- And slammed into a taller figure behind. "Ijyuin," the figure said, arms crossing over the distinct jacket of a CLAMP Academy uniform, amber eyes narrowing suspiciously at the smaller boy, "Why do the nice people think you're trying to steal their luggage?" "But I..." the so-called Ijyuin sputtered, "I mean... I wouldn't! I couldn't! I was just running late and I ran into them and I thought maybe I could help them out before they got to the tram station cause it's really hard to find your way around here if you're new and I would never because stealing is wrong!" A third figure popped up from behind the taller boy, eyes glinting behind the mask of an open fan. "Akira? Did you forget to introduce yourself again?" The boy froze, arms stuck out at awkward angles, mid-pinwheel. "Oh. Um... maybe?" The tallest boy actually twitched at that, one large hand moving to rub at the space between his eyes and Subaru stifled a giggle as Hokuto-chan forgot propriety entirely and burst into laughter. The three boys together were a study in contrasts -- from the dark haired, lanky lines of their 'helper' to the more exuberant posture of the shorter blonde still half-tucked behind his companion, blue eyes wide with amusement as he waggled his fan, slapping it against the tallest boy as though daring a reaction. The tallest of the three was more imposing, broad shouldered and thin lipped, body tense with agitation at his companions' seeming unconcern for their faux pas, remote and rigid from the perfect creases of an impeccably neat CLAMP Academy uniform to the blue-black hair flipping ever-so-neatly upward in the back. "Ijyuin," the tallest repeated, studiously ignoring the fan still tapping questioningly against his upper arm, "We are supposed to make them feel welcome, not frighten them half to death demonstrating our ample skills at petty larceny." "I don't think any real harm was done," Subaru interjected, before their helper could launch into another round of denials, fingering the brim of his hat nervously as the tallest boy's eyes fell on him, steely for a moment before they softened. The boy bowed curtly, "I hope you can excuse the sudden degradation in our manners. Ijyuin has a tendency to be forgetful at the worst times and he's coming back from a small family emergency--" "Which is a bit beside the point," said the blonde boy, straightening and stepping out from behind his companion with an amiable squeeze to the taller boy's arm, "We really are very sorry about this, normally we're a bit better organized. My name is Imonoyama Nokoru, I am Chairman of the High School Division's Student Council. This is my secretary, Takamura Suoh, and your impromptu porter here is our treasurer, Ijyuin Akira." He paused, smiling winsomely, "He really was trying to help. We were asked to meet you when you arrived on campus." "You had a family emergency?" said Subaru, turning to Ijyuin-kun, "I hope everything's alright." "Oh yeah," Ijyuin-kun waved a dismissive hand, teetering dangerously as Takamura-kun bent to relieve him of some of his burden and nearly unbalanced him, tucking the wayward coat arm that had hampered his vision over his ear with an affectionate pat. "My Moms just set the kitchen on fire again, is all. I keep telling them not to cook without me, but they get hungry while I'm at school, you know?" "On fire is nothing?" Subaru repeated, numbly. "I'm still stuck on the part where he has 'Moms'," Hokuto-chan whispered, bending close as she hoisted her own burden into a more comfortable position against her chest. "What was that you were saying about this place being strange, again?" Which was about the point that Imonoyama-kun sort of... exploded. "We have been remiss!" he declared, stalking forward, eyes flashing dangerously, brandishing his fan. "I know, Kaicho, and I'm really sorry," Ijyuin-kun replied, ducking his head mournfully, "I promise next time I will totally pay more attention. Introductions first, running off with the luggage after. I'll even ask if it's okay so they know I'm not stealing!" "Not that, Akira," said Imonoyama-kun, eyeing Hokuto-chan's hatbox and for a moment Subaru feared that he knew what was in it. It wasn't that Subaru was afraid of some outward retaliation for his craft, most people in Japan had all the respect tradition dictated for onmyouji, even as most these days maintained a sort of skeptical distance from the spiritual, slating his family's work as something of a necessary evil in the name of preserving the old customs. Aside from one notable incident with a classmate way back when he'd still been allowed outside the family compound for school (and that had been so long ago he barely remembered the girl's face now), he'd never been targeted for the uniqueness that made him so good at his job -- the visions, the strange, often frightening psychometric connection to ghostly residue, the power that ripped up through his body and out his hands through ofuda during an exorcism, that the family said was more than they had seen in a single Sumeragi in a hundred years or more. He was never called a freak for the power he wielded. He was merely gifted, or unique, or worst of all indispensable, as though he were a commodity to be bought and traded, each new praising epithet dropping like a heavy stone onto his already weighted heart, sinking beneath a sea of apathy. But there was always that sense of other, that he was something apart from even the members of his own family, watching them slide and skitter away with practiced apologies and platitudes from a very young age, since the day his father had set out on some hushed errand for Obaachan and failed to come home. He didn't want it to be like that here, that sense that despite what the people around him said, he was an abomination. The elephant in the room that went unnoticed not out of ignorance but some misguided desire to preserve the illusion in case his talents might one day be needed, left to fritter away the passing time as he waited until he would suddenly be worthy of their full attention, as he waited for the day that they would really look at him for what he was without turning away almost as quickly. Subaru didn't think he could stand leaving one cage for another, bracing himself for the icy calm sure to follow, as Imonoyama-kun attempted to pretend that he hadn't noticed a thing, why did he ask? "The lady is carrying a bag!" Imonoyama-kun huffed, vibrating with agitation. Subaru blinked. "What?" "Here we go," said Takamura-kun, the heel of his free hand back to massaging his forehead. "I am so sorry, Miss," Imonoyama-kun continued, turning large, placating eyes on Hokuto-chan, "I don't know where my manners are today. Will you allow me to take that for you?" "No," said Hokuto-chan, and Subaru swore she was doing it just to see Imonoyama-kun's reaction. "But you can't carry it yourself," Imonoyama-kun protested. "Oho really?" Hokuto-chan warbled, leaning towards him conspiratorially, "You know," she said, voice low and conversational, "There is a very special circle of hell reserved for men who try to weasel their way into a woman's affections with petty favors." "Ah," Imonoyama-kun replied, grin widening, "But a woman's comfort is never petty. And a lady so delicate as yourself should not be forced to trouble herself with such trivialities as transporting luggage," he wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Still, I do apologize if I've offended you. I'll never forgive myself if I've made such a charming woman unhappy." Takamura-kun groaned. Hokuto-chan giggled. "Delicate!" she crowed, smacking the hatbox with her free hand, "That's rich!" she turned to Subaru, "Brother, we have to keep him. He's perfect!" She thrust the hatbox into Imonoyama-kun's hands, grinning profusely as he began to steer her towards the station entrance, launching into a steady stream of chatter about the trams, the brickwork, the history of the campus' transportation authority, anything that seemed to come to mind. Ijyuin-kun turned in their wake, "I should really get a cart for all this," he said, nodding sagely, "And don't worry, Sumeragi-kun, I'll be right back with your luggage because stealing is wrong." He sauntered off towards a small baggage area, whistling a jaunty tune as the other arm of his jacket slipped forward to obscure his vision again. "It's a thing," Takamura-kun clarified once the dark haired boy was safely out of earshot, "With him, it's... the subject of thievery makes him nervous. We don't ask." Subaru nodded, then shook his head. "What just happened?" he asked, following Takamura-kun in his own slow progress towards the entrance to the station. Imonoyama-kun had paused in front of it, eyes flickering back every so often to check the progress of the rest of the group as he leaned forward towards Hokuto-chan conspiratorially, rapid-fire commentary punctuated at random intervals by staccato bursts of her accompanying chortling. He looked like the kind of boy with every bit the mischievous streak Subaru's twin was so famous for... if that was even possible. "I think," Takamura-kun answered, in all sincerity, "That we just witnessed the beginning of a very frightening friendship." Somewhere fate was having a good, hard laugh at their expense. ----- Paperback gripped tenuously in his teeth, Shirou Kamui struggled the last few inches and half-pulled, half tossed himself at the white and gray striped branched he was aiming for, wincing as his fingers found purchase, a small jolt echoing through with unpleasant swiftness from his arms down to the rest of his body. He hung there for a moment, mouth aching and the taste of old paper thick in his mouth as he struggled not to move his face too much, knowing that if he took the time to ease the ache in his jaw, he'd lose the book and then he'd have to climb all the way back down to retrieve it -- all that effort wasted in one careless gesture. So he stayed still, body rocking back and to ever so slightly, a smooth pendulum motion that picked up speed and force with each circuit until that one breathless instant where he kicked upward and hoisted himself just above the branch he was holding onto, settling with a rough bounce onto a larger branch, the width of which was thicker than both his arms could hold. If Nokoru were around, no doubt he'd be torn between applauding him and reaming him for being so stupidly reckless, Suoh glowering over his shoulder as if he'd like nothing more than to yank Kamui down from those branches and give him a spanking for getting his senpai so riled. Not a spanking, Kamui hastily corrected himself, that giving him images he didn't need thanks to Nokoru's close … connection to his bodyguard. It never failed to amuse him that the most eligible bachelor on campus, the cause for a flowering of fan clubs from the elementary to University level from the time they were both barely able to fit into their short-shorts, was not only taken but by a boy no less and if the moaning he'd had the misfortune to hear through the walls at night told him anything, it was more than anyone had the right to be. God help them when the female student population got wind of that development. In so far as he could see there were two possible outcomes, one involved his cousin being beaten with sticks in a way he wouldn't like or and he wasn't sure if this was better or worse, a sudden swing in the fangirl population for yaoi manga and fan fiction about their glorious idols. And Nokoru would, of course, eat it all up like he did everything else that involved the so-called fairer sex. Hell, he'd probably endorse it and offer to pose for a few sketches if only to watch Suoh sputter helplessly. Situating himself into a comfortable position, Kamui took the book out of his mouth, smirking then wincing as the muscles in his cheeks protested that, rubbing at the offended area as he sat back. Fortunately he didn't have to worry about Nokoru or Suoh or their hordes of insane fan club girls right now, his cousin having made some cryptic remarks about having to meet someone this morning at the tram. While he didn't dislike Nokoru or his friends, Kamui couldn't help but feel on the outside somehow, uncomfortable both with the amount of attention just walking from the mansion to the campus proper with them garnered him and by the amount of sexual tension ricocheting off Nokoru and Suoh now that Akira had taken to spending more time with Utako. It was unsettling and frankly damn embarrassing, making him feel like the proverbial third wheel where once he had felt almost welcome. None of it was intentional and his cousin would probably feel terrible were he to realize what was going on but there was really nothing he could do to fix things. And Kamui was not so petty as to begrudge them their time together. He just wished they'd move Nokoru's damn headboard away from the side of the wall nearest his room. This though, this was something he could do, better than anyone except maybe Suoh and while he didn't have the ninja's lightening fast reflexes, he did know trees and how to climb them. He'd been in and out of the branches of such giants since he was old enough to crawl, each year bringing him a little closer to the blue he caught glimpses of through thick green leaves and flowering sakura. It was the one remnant of his childhood he had left to him and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel safe here like this. Scampering up one trunk or another, conscious of the echo of ghostly feet that only he could hear, the fragments of a memory he kept as close as he could without pain, he felt safer on a tree branch than he did anywhere else. And there were trees a plenty to climb on CLAMP Campus, the Imonoyama family having designed the Academy to have the perfect balance of woodland and modern buildings, trees and flowers blooming in every available space as eternal, climate-controlled spring reigned year round. Kamui had been here for so long that thought of actual seasons, though he had vague, hazy memories of such, seemed unreal, almost a fairytale. Here there were perfect skies, touched by rain only at set times, as much a program as the carefully controlled monorail that encircled the campus. Even the trees he climbed had been altered in someway, their branches sturdier, their blooms more vibrant and bark thicker. You could walk the entirety of the school and you'd never find a sick plant or tree, taken care of by hundreds of faceless staff, some students who gardened as a hobby and other, actual workers. Nothing grew old here except the students, all but the most historic of buildings replaced should they prove faulty or below standards, the campus in a continual state of update and change. Despite all of this, perfect days stretching out forever, miracles of technology being developed and unfurled here daily, he couldn’t help but feel a little … restless. Bored really. It wasn't that there wasn't enough to do. With his schoolwork, to say little of all the malls and multiplexes and parties, there was plenty to keep him occupied and otherwise entertained except -- Well, lately he found himself tired of those small things he'd once enjoyed so much. The arcade wasn't nearly as much fun to go to by yourself nor did anything playing at one of the cinemas make him want to jump up and cheer. And the parties… He snorted. Most of the time he ended up having to duck out of them before a coterie of giggling girls descended on him, trying to either ply him for details about Nokoru (or Suoh, though thankfully Utako was loud and bitchy enough they'd given up on Akira) or batting their lashes at him with unmistakable meaning. And he might have been able to deal with that had any of them bothered to really talk to him instead of simpering and squealing loudly in his ear. These days he found himself retreating more and more, walking in those places on campus where others didn't usually venture, sometimes so far he came to the barrier, invisible as it was with only the faint static of an electrical feeling giving him warning as he stared at the road beyond the moat, connected to the outside by airily thin bridges of wire and steel . There was an entire world beyond the bubble he was in so tantalizingly close it hurt to watch as the other students went on furloughs or home for visits. They went to all those places he could not though were he to put his hand to it, that bubble would burst and he could pass through with little difficulty to the other side. There were times when he itched to do it, just to see, to know what the air beyond the campus tasted like, if it tasted the same or it was different. It was winter outside the barrier, white drifts broken only by the passing of brightly colored vehicles, curving around the road that led away from the Academy and into Tokyo proper. What was snow like? It'd been so long he couldn't remember anything but an impression of white branches and wet cold. Did it crunch beneath your feet when you walked like his books said? Or was it different? Kamui thought that maybe everything was different out there. And infinitely more dangerous. His fingers tightened around the ragged cover of his book, watching as it crinkled, a fine line of paper wrinkles deepening under the light, branching outward like a lifeline, telling of rough treatment and students now long gone. It wasn't perfect or even new, the once glossy surface now faded, pages yellowed to a golden brown, softly rough as he ran his thumb along the edge, an end dog earring. Lifting it against his lips, he breathed in slowly, the must of old paper drying lingering, drawing his mind back to other things, to the memory of old paperbacks stacked neatly in odd corners while he hung off his mother's lap, trying to wriggle in closer, wanting desperately to know what had her so riveted. Kamui shivered, eyes unfocusing as he recalled fingers picking through his hair absently and the smell of warm clothes, sweat and an artificial summery smell of detergent, peering up through the circle of arms at his mother, strands of dark hair escaping even as she attempted to push them away from her lips, eyes never leaving the book in her hand. Until they did and then they would focus on him, as if she'd suddenly remembered he was even there at all, smiling down at him almost wistfully, her eyes always just a shade darker than they had been the moment before. She'd been so young then, probably not much older than he was now. Just a slip of a girl with a toddler in tow, holding him close to her at all times, his earliest memories that of her favorite pink sweater, plucking at near invisible strands of fuzz with his tiny fingers. His mother … she'd loved books so much, reading to him as often as she read for herself. Books had been an escape for her just as they were now for him, a way of shutting the outside world out, to see and deal only with those things he chose to. He'd picked up a lot of what some people might classify as useless information in those early years, his mother just as likely to read aloud to him while studying for a biology final as she was any of the works of Dr. Seuss. There had been lots of people coming in and out in those days, the two of them living on campus in student housing. Kamui had vague memories of watching the Imonoyama mansion pass by, staring at it with wide, hungry eyes as he sat in his mother's lap while they rode in the monorail, barely paying attention to the people around him. Things had been so different then, simpler -- just the two of them walking back and to, watching the world drift by from the safety of his mother's arms before Aunt Saya had come into their lives, before his mother had suddenly uprooted them from CLAMP campus, moving onto the grounds of Tokagushi Shrine at Saya's invitation. He'd never really understood what had compelled his mother to so abruptly quit her studies mid-stream and just leave like that, especially moving in with the Monous, themselves a young family with a son who was Kamui's age. At the time, he hadn't really cared, taken with the adventure and the prospect of moving, not dwelling on the lines that had suddenly started appearing around his mother's eyes, mouth tightening when she looked at him at odd moments as if worried he was going to up and vanish should she look the other way. And there was Fuuma. He could remember vaguely other children in the past but Fuuma was the one that lasted, that became a fixture in his life, and not some random figure on the playground to fight over sandcastles with. Fuuma had taken him by the hand the day he'd arrived, dragging him around the back of the Shrine, to a small breach in one of the floorboards where a stray had wandered in, the small yips of puppies greeting them as Fuuma lifted up the board keeping them hidden. He remembered the feel of downy fur against his fingers, a wriggling bundle of energy mewling in his arms, Fuuma hovering over him, instructing him on how he should hold the puppy just so Hitomi (or so Fuuma had named the mother) wouldn't get upset and try to bite him. They'd stayed out there a long time, until their mothers had come to collect them for dinner, scolding them for the dirt they'd somehow managed to get not only on their clothes but their faces. Dinner had been more than amusing as he had sat there sneaking bits of food into his clothing, mimicking Fuuma, taking it out to back for the dog later on when their mothers and Fuuma's father weren't looking, an amusing game that had lasted for about as long as it had taken Aunt Saya to figure out what they were doing. His butt still tingled in remembrance of the spanking that had earned him, having ruined several perfectly good shirts with brownish grease stains. It hadn't stopped them though, managing to get into more trouble together than they probably ever would have separately. Fuuma had taught him to climb trees and play Candy Land. They'd snuck around and watched scary movies late at night and held each other through the nightmares afterward. In short, he'd been the best friend Kamui could ever have hoped for, a willing companion and accomplice in every scrape they got into, comforting because Kamui knew, no matter what, that Fuuma was there, looking out for him and he always would be. Except that he wasn't. Kamui flinched away from the memory of red splattering against rice paper doors, riddled with hundreds of tiny holes as an awful silence descended, hunched behind an overturned table, trying to stay quiet and almost choking on tears as he peered around the rounding edges. He had to stop himself from reaching, from moving at all, trying to be so still he could taste his breathing, harsh and labored in the back of his throat, too afraid to be sick though his stomach churned as his eyes remained glued to those chubby fingers reaching for him from across the room, Fuuma's broad, kind features caught in a moment of agonized surprise. Bits of gray matter and reddish-pink fluid dripped down the portion of his face still intact, his skull shattered and scattered around him like so much broken porcelain. He had been smiling; Kamui had never seen Fuuma not smiling at him, but there was a hardness, a set to those features, to the dull glass of a hazel eye, striped with blood and amber that made him seem more a doll than a human boy. Life denied in one frantic, fearful instant, chased away with ruthless efficiency, Kamui scrabbling deeper in the hollow between the table and the wall, tears starting to slip down his face, having to listen and wait as footsteps drew closer, squeezing his eyes shut and just -- Maybe it wasn't real praying but it was as close as a six year old could get, crying over and over again in his head for his mother, for Fuuma, for someone to just come and not hurt him. He'd been lucky, the hand and face inserting themselves around the toppled table set belonging to his mother, her expression somewhere beyond afraid, grimly determined as she'd pulled him to her and somehow … he still wasn't sure how…gotten them out of the house and away, running back to the only other place of comfort he'd ever known. CLAMP campus. He'd always wondered, when he'd let himself think on it at all, why. Not why he'd survived though that was another question entirely but why the Monous, why the Shrine? What possible worth had there been in wiping out a priest and his entire family in one instant? In so far as he knew they'd never had any enemies and his attempts at surreptitious investigating had turned up nothing at all. Certainly the police reports Nokoru had manage to scrounge up for him hadn't mentioned a robbery or anything that might have been a motive. Of course that might have been because the entire shrine had gone up in flames not long after they'd escaped, enough chemicals soaked into the rubble for the police to rule it arson. His mother had known something or must have thought she had, frightened enough to run to the Imonoyama's doorstep with him in tow, both of them bloodied and looking as if they'd stepped out of a war zone, something that wasn't too far from the truth. Once he might have goggled at that, at being surrounded by so much opulence and so many beautiful and interesting things, but then he'd barely been aware of anything beyond the death hold he'd had around his mother's neck, face buried in her neck as he sobbed. For Fuuma and Aunt Saya and his uncle. For the new litter of puppies one of Hitomi's children had given birth to. For the baby Aunt Saya had been carrying, her belly jutting before her, giving them a pained smile as she told them not to run so fast through the house. He'd been looking forward to that, to seeing if Fuuma would have a brother or if it would be a girl, almost as excited as if it had been his own brother or sister being born. And then it was just gone. One minute the entire family had sat down for dinner and then the next -- Up in smoke. Quite literally. His memories of that night became rather piecemeal up to a point but he did recall being taken upstairs to the nursery and left there at some point, his mother plopping him down on one of the sofas, running her hands over his hair and giving him a long, unreadable look, squeezing his face between her fingers for the briefest of instants before she was gone, leaving him to stare numbly after her. He wasn't sure why he hadn't gotten up and run after her, except that maybe the shock of things had finally and completely hit him, leaving him unable to do little more than just sit and study his knees until another sound, softer and less harsh than the staccato rip of gunfire caught his attention, lifting his head just in time to see a small blond boy in dark blue pajamas wander in, tiny feet encased in huge yellow duck slippers, rubbing his eyes and seeming surprised to find Kamui there. Surprised or not, he'd introduced himself with more ease and grace than any adult Kamui had ever met, let alone a child, as Imonoyama Nokoru, almost bowing before he'd hopped up onto the sofa next to him, eyeing Kamui's stained and blood-splattered clothing with interest before chattering at him easily, asking questions, most of which Kamui didn't even remember now. But he'd stayed, when even Kamui's mother hadn't, and at the time that had meant so much, just not having to be alone with the lump in his throat and the memory of warm eyes now dead. Nokoru had stayed but Kamui's mother hadn't, the world he'd woken up to a very different one than the one he'd left, with only the comfort of the little blond boy wrapped protectively around him keeping him from screaming the walls down. And later, when it was explained to him that his mother had left him in the care of the Imonoyamas (under the pretense of being a distant relation) and that he could never leave the confines of the school's campus, Nokoru had stayed by his side, smiling brightly at him as if to offer some sort of hope. He wasn't Fuuma and Kamui had no delusion of replacing one with the other but Nokoru was … comfortable. Comforting and as badly in need of someone as Kamui had been. Kamui leaned back, crossing his legs and cradling his head, book balanced in his lap as he gazed upward. It was hard to believe there had been a time when he and Nokoru had been near inseparable, chasing each other around the Imonoyama mansion in much the same manner he and Fuuma had run around the shrine and yet, like his friendship with Fuuma, his relationship with Nokoru had come to an abrupt … well, not end but stall might be a good term. Their growing apart hadn't been quite so much a natural drift as a jolt delivered when one of the many attempts to kidnap Nokoru in those early years succeeded. He hadn't understood how commonplace such occurrences were for a family like the Imonoyama, learning that long tense night before they recovered Nokoru that the first kidnap attempt on his cousin had been when he was no more than six months old, a nanny simply bundling her charge up and walking off with him. No ransom had been paid despite the woman's attempts and though he wondered, Kamui had never gotten up the courage to ask just what Nokoru's family had done to get their son back, their faces stony enough whenever the subject was brought up to tell him that such inquiries would not only be rude but totally unwelcome. For a zaibatsu as powerful as the Imonoyama such things were to be expected, if not tolerated, and under no circumstances did they ever bargain or attempt to broker deals with kidnappers. In so far as Kamui knew, those hapless enough to make the attempt never went to trial. When such things happened, the family closed ranks around each other and Kamui had learned the hard way that at all times a certain public face had to be maintained, even by him, passed off as a distant relation and not even truly related at all. It was, he supposed, a compliment of sorts that he had been included at all, but it was a lonelier position than anyone should have to endure, maneuvering through an intricately structured world of careful words and watchful actions. Nokoru had grown up in that world and like it or not, that had always been something of a sticking point. He knew the steps to make, the smiles to fake or grace and Kamui … didn't. Kamui didn't understand how Nokoru could simply bounce out of a car after being retrieved, waving his fan about and suggesting they go upstairs and play after spending the night away from home, held hostage because of his family name. And it was that more than anything else that had put a strain on their relationship, causing Kamui to draw back, wondering how much of what Nokoru showed him was truth and what really lurked beneath that smiling face, if anyone could really be that happy or it was just one more masquerade. It had been enough to make him question everything he thought he knew about Imonoyama Nokoru and if Nokoru had been surprised by the slow distancing of their friendship, he never gave that away either, just accepting as he did everything else, the both of them contenting themselves with a superficial relationship that somehow made everything worse. Worse because he could remember a time when they were close, when they had played and run after each other, when Nokoru had stayed with him during the nightmares or when he had taught the other boy how to climb the trees outside his window. Sometimes…sometimes, he caught Nokoru watching him thoughtfully and he wondered if his cousin didn’t regret it, too. And for all Kamui found himself wanting to reach out, something in him held back, whispering about water under a bridge and chances long gone and did he really want to take that chance? So he waited. For what, he was never sure, but it felt like there was supposed to be something or someone who would understand though lately Kamui found himself beginning to doubt even that. He supposed everyone felt that way every once in a while, like there was something they were supposed to be doing and weren't, aggravating and irritating as it was, nagging at the back of his mind. Fortunately, he knew exactly what it was and all this reminiscing wasn't going to get his book for Literature read any quicker, he reminded himself, settling in. There would be plenty of time later to mope, probably later on that night when he was trying to find just that right position with his pillow to drown out the squeaky-squeak of mattress springs and the steady bump-bump-bump from the room next door. One day he was so going to sneak into Nokoru's room and oil those damn springs and move the bed -- maybe right into another room. Preferably another wing over from his. He'd barely gotten a sentence read when his attention wandered yet again, thanks to a passing glint of bright cerulean below, amber eyes roaming over him frankly until Suoh was satisfied that yes, he was Kamui and no, he was not some dangerous assassin out to nail his boyfriend and wow, did thatt bring mental images Kamui wished he could banish. He twitched, wondering how it was that he had managed to become so entangled in his cousin's sex life and how he managed to keep a straight face at all these days whenever Suoh and Nokoru were in a room together, trying as they were right now, to pretend that of course they were nothing more than just good friends. Idly, he wondered just how fast they could run if someone were to let the cat out of the bag to the entire female population on campus that they weren't. As amusing as that thought might be, Kamui had no desire to die an untimely and agonizing death which Suoh would be more than happy to bring about should he have even the faintest idea Kamui was behind something like that. His gaze lingered long enough to watch Suoh turn away, openly dismissive, crossing his arms and waiting, most likely on Nokoru and Akira. Kamui shrugged, turning back to his book. There was something of a tacit agreement between he and Suoh that so long as Nokoru wasn't involved, they stayed the hell out of each other's way. He didn't approve, Suoh didn't, of the way Kamui acted or more importantly, the way he perceived that Kamui treated Nokoru and while Kamui could appreciate that, he also felt (and had pointed out to Suoh in one harrowing encounter) that it was really between he and Nokoru and the ninja could butt out. Occasionally, it crossed Kamui's mind that he really might have a death wish as often as he tempted Fate. Be that as it may, there was something comforting about being able to turn to his books, both escaping and re-finding that connection he'd had to long ago days, to his mother's arms and how good it felt to listen to her voice reading aloud to him. It was certainly more of comfort than anything else was these days, as alienated as he felt, that invisible barrier that separated the school from the rest of Tokyo somehow seeming to come down between him and the rest of humanity whenever he tried to interact with people. Somehow he inevitably fucked things up, usually by opening his mouth and shoving his foot so far down his throat he and everyone else around him choked. And while there were plenty of people -- girls mostly -- who seemed more than happy to give him several chances, he didn't feel comfortable with any of them, not able to share stories about a loving family or going on vacation or doing anything that didn't involve CLAMP campus or the Imonoyama in someway. As much as he loved Nokoru and as grateful as he was to the family that was fostering him, he didn't fit, in much the way a square peg couldn't slide in a round hole. He'd tried, reasoning that his brusque, almost aloof manner was a much a mask as Nokoru's smiles and fan waving but there was always some part of him that held back, afraid to chance things again, not after Fuuma and not after Nokoru. Maybe it didn't really matter anyway. It wasn't like he could make any lasting relationships outside of Nokoru and perhaps, oddly enough, Suoh, anyway. Even Akira was likely to leave CLAMP campus eventually, marry Utako, and have more kids than he could handle, all of whom would be doted on by their uncle Nokoru and would cook at a professional level by the time they were six. Any friends he made here, unless they opted to stay and take a job on the campus grounds, he would inevitably lose again once they returned to the outside, to those places he couldn't follow. And maybe things would be okay for a while, they'd exchange postcards or emails or even phone calls but after awhile, after having to turn down repeated invitations to visit, a strain would inevitably begin to tell. It was depressing but Kamui knew that ultimately there was truth in it. He could make friends with those people who stayed on campus, who worked and lived here but there would always be a distance there, not just because of his inability to move out but because of who he was. Shirou Kamui, "cousin" to one of the wealthiest families in Japan, an outsider both inside and out of the family, looked upon as a useful connection or tool for those people seeking to get closer to Nokoru or the other Imonoyama and as a burden perhaps, to the rest of the family. Perhaps that was why when Kamui tried to imagine the future, what his future would be like, all he could see was the here and now, a secession of days, one much like the one before it, surrounded by so much wonder and yet utterly alone. It seemed unfair somehow, to be given so much and to not be able to truly appreciate it, knowing the cost and having to pay it anyway because there was no other option. 'At least boredom won't kill me,' he tried to remind himself, 'I have a roof over my head and food to eat and I'm getting to go to one of the premier schools in Japan for free. Plenty of people have much less.' Plenty of people also had more of a choice than he did, an insidious little voice reminded him and a cage, no matter how gilded and comfortable, was still a cage. All he needed was a little collar with the named Imonoyama stamped on it around his neck and he'd be just one more acquisition in this garden of delights, carefully monitored and regulated. 'God, I'm becoming such a whiny little bitch,' Kamui grimaced. 'If this keeps up, I'll have to do something drastic and admit Suoh's right.' Which he would -- as soon as he cut his tongue out, put on a dress, and mimed his way across campus to "I'm a little teapot." 'And I think I hurt myself with that image. Okay, studying, really studying now,' Kamui all but shoved the book in front of his face, attempting to ignore Akira and Nokoru's voices as they passed underneath where he was sitting, seemingly oblivious to his presence though he'd lay odds that Nokoru was well aware of him sitting in the branch above him. There was very little that escaped the youngest Imonoyama's attention anyway and while whatever internal radar seemed to track Kamui wasn't anywhere near as sensitive as his so-called 'girl-dar,' Kamui knew better than to discount it. The reason, and probably the only reason, Nokoru wasn't yelling up to him from the bottom of the tree made herself heard loud and clear as she shrieked, "Oh my God, you have one of those here, too? Subaru, did you hear that?!" Kamui winced, suddenly grateful for the several feet separating him from the party down below, pained by the shrill, almost grating laugh that followed as snippets of conversation floating up to where he was, words like 'campus' and 'facilities' and 'the best in ..' causing him to roll his eyes. Nokoru was doing his glorified tour guide spiel again and seeing as their guest in question was female, he was probably laying it on extra thick. He suddenly understood why Suoh looked so … outdone. Unable to help himself, he glanced down over the top of his book, catching a glimpse of an outrageously flouncy black skirt and bunny ears -- actual bunny ears -- rushing after Nokoru and waving …it…her…arms, jingling punctuating every flail as a cascade of silver bracelets clanged against each other. Her face was turned away so he couldn't see her but there was enough curve under all that plastic and velvet to clearly reveal her gender. Kamui raised a knuckle to his lips, trying not to laugh outright at the aggravated, almost pained look on Suoh's face as she bounced after his boyfriend, calling after him familiarly in a tone that most people reserved for outright yelling. It was certainly loud enough that heads were turning and he could visibly see Suoh twitching, at the right vantage point to watch the ninja's hands clench and unclench behind his back, all but glaring at the ground. Nokoru, on the other hand, seemed to be eating the attention up, his fan swishing back and forth almost in tandem with the rapid fire words dropping with such merry abandon from the girl's lips, the two of them leaning into each other as if they were old friends or at the very least, co-conspirators. All in all, Kamui concluded, Suoh was in for a very bad time of it and was half tempted to hop off his perch and follow just to see if someone's head could explode if given enough provocation. And then there was Akira who was toddling along, just behind Nokoru and the girl, having fallen behind, no doubt in part to the massive amount of luggage he was weighted down with, his winter coat partially draped over his head like a shawl, his good-natured features made younger, until he almost seemed like a child playing dress up. He'd gotten lanky of late, more limbs than actual boy, a good head taller than both Kamui and Nokoru, though not yet having reached Suoh's rather impressive height. He was still the same sweet, almost goofy boy who had run around after Suoh and Nokoru, offering Kamui chocolates or tea whenever they met up, brimming with good intentions and sometimes inhabiting a planet the rest of them could only see through a cloud of his sometimes off the wall actions. It was probably a good thing he was dating Utako who kept him from going too far off base and grounded him in a way the other two couldn't, actually knowing when to tell him to stop, rather than encouraging him towards potentially stupid actions simply because it was amusing to watch the results. Right now, Akira kept trying to glance over his shoulder, an impossible task given that his overcoat was effectively in his face and were he to try and reach up to push it out of the way, he'd completely upend himself and probably go crashing to the ground in a mass of luggage and hatboxes. Just slowing down as he was now doing was causing the black and white rolling suitcase trailing along after him to wobble threateningly, the frilly ribbon tied around the handle almost waving. Kamui's eyes followed it, tracking just a little further until they hit upon someone else, trudging along behind the group, seemingly too taken with his surroundings to really notice the fact he was being left behind despite Akira's near desperate attempts to both slow up and keep up, torn between not leaving the newcomer behind and not being left behind himself although that wasn't the first thing Kamui noticed. It was his hat. His large, flat black hat with an off-white ribbon around the brim, looking like a refugee from a Boy George video. Actually, it was more than the hat, it was the entire outfit, black and white from head to toe, with buckles and straps in just the right places on his striped vest and shirt, a long black coat slung over his shoulder, the effect rather that of an overexcited penguin on parade. Even his shoes were black and white, actually wearing ivory spats over black dress shoes. 'Who the hell under sixty wears something like that with their shoes?' Kamui blinked, leaning forward just a bit for a better look. And of course that would be the exact moment hat boy decided to look up, Kamui scrambling back into his sitting position as if nothing at all had happened. For a second, he was tempted to think maybe it was a girl and not a boy, the face lifting up towards where he was sitting almost too sweet and effeminate, wide green eyes drifting up to meet his gaze. Even his black hair was a little too androgynous, shaggy and longish as it feathered around his delicate features, a cut that would have worked just as well on a boy as a girl. It was only the slightly wider set to his shoulders that gave any visible hint at all of his masculinity. So unless what Kamui was looking at was a cross-dressing girl -- a very flat-chested, cross-dressing girl, he could only conclude it was another boy. Quite possibly the prettiest boy Kamui had ever seen but a boy nonetheless. 'Prettiest …' Kamui wondered where that thought had come from, becoming increasingly unnerved by the degree of attention the other boy was directing at him, clear emerald eyes never wavering once from his, almost openly gawking and for a moment, Kamui wondered if he had food hanging off his face or something else equally stupid. He was half tempted to inform the boy to close his mouth and point his eyes elsewhere but found himself returning that stare with a frank one of his own, perhaps not particularly friendly but then he wasn't used being so openly dissected, not even by the girls who dogged his cousin's steps. The other boy seemed to realize he was being rude, dropping his eyes and looking abashed, then lifting them again, as if he couldn't stop himself, a small apologetic smile tugging at his face. The odd thing …and it really wouldn't occur to him until later, until after the moment had passed, was how familiar this all seemed, the scene seeming to come together with an almost audible click, as if this were how things were supposed to be. Stupid and overly dramatic as that sounded, it was the closest he could get to describing how he felt, as if he were meant to be in this tree with the other boy smiling up at him tentatively and nervously touching the brim of his hat. Kamui opened his mouth and almost -- almost said something when Suoh marched over, coughing ever so meaningfully and saying something Kamui couldn't hear though he had no doubt it was probably uncomplimentary given the exasperated amber gaze thrown up at him. Kamui snorted, pulling his book up and tearing his gaze away, ignoring the sudden warming of his face and cursing himself for that. He could almost guess what Suoh was saying and the last thing he either needed or wanted was to get worked up about something like that, particularly over some boy, pretty or otherwise, that he wasn't likely to see again. And while that was all very well to acknowledge, it didn't quite make the strangely empty feeling that settled in his chest when the other boy turned go away, that tenuous thread of connection snapping, leaving Kamui with the unsettling feeling of having lost something important before he'd even known what that thing was. ------- Nearby, in a mysterious little shop nestled discreetly among the skyscrapers of downtown Tokyo, a particularly pale, rather statuesque woman threw a section of ridiculously long dark hair over one shoulder and sighed, looking up from her contemplation of dry tea leaves to meet her assistant's petulant bespectacled gaze. She smiled at the boy, her messy haired, thin lipped little runt of a high school student, from her position lounging (rather indecently, he would have added) in the arms of an antique divan, grinning as he threw down the scrub brush in his hand and sighed, kneeing the bucket of soapy water beside him awkwardly. "What now?" he asked, finally, crossing his arms over his chest, patently ignoring the frilly apron the woman absolutely insisted he wear while he was cleaning. Ichihara Yuuko sat up slowly, sharp features taking on an air of seriousness, straightening her shoulders haughtily before replying, "Hitsuzen. A naturally foreordained event. A state in which--" "Yeah, I know what it is," the boy cut her off. "You told me when we met. And yesterday. And the day before that. Cut the crap and get to the part where you might actually be making sense." Yuuko smiled, stepping down from the divan and crossing the floor to offer the boy a hand up, pulling him up to trail behind her as she made her way into the inner storage rooms of the shop. "Honestly, Watanuki, you have no sense of presentation. In this business it's half of what we sell." She glanced back long enough to see that he'd managed to screw his face up into an even fiercer pout. It was almost cute. "You remember my medium friend? The one I told you about?" "The one with the twin sister?" "That's the one." She rounded a corner, manicured fingers running negligently along the spines of ancient tomes filling the shelves that lined the walls beside them. Priceless things, but mostly they just collected dust until a customer gave her reason to pull them out and-- "Here we are." Yuuko pulled a particularly large tome from its place sandwiched between an antique urn and a pair of fluffy frog slippers someone had thrown in on a lark some time ago, handing it to the boy beside her with a little flourish -- just to annoy him. "My friend just had a date with destiny, so to speak." She watched Watanuki turn the book in his hands, lips moving as he read the title and frowned. "X? What the hell does that mean?" "It means," Yuuko said, tossing her hair melodramatically and stalking towards the door, "That It has begun." She laughed as she rounded the corner back towards the main room, footsteps scuttling in her wake as poor Watanuki Kimihiro, irrepressible thing that he was, hurried to catch up, stumbling awkwardly over his own feet and muttering in her wake. "Dammit, Yuuko-san! That wasn't an answer!" Ah well. He'd find out soon enough. She'd be seeing some familiar faces soon, she was sure of it. And then the real fun would begin. -----End of Chapter One return to splash page |