...Yue's first and most serious opponent was of local origin; a commoner with little understanding of the refined ways of the magical arts such as Yue practiced, but exceptionally gifted. It was that extraordinary talent that allowed him to confront Yue in an extended and vicious battle...
...at the end of which the opponent's body and spirit were separated; the body allowed to move on and the spirit banned and contained. Contained, for though untrained, the magic that ran in the opponent's veins would have been enough to burn with sunfire whatever shoot dared suck it in. ...It took weeks after the victory for Yue to find the strength to actually write an account of what happened; even then he didn't bring himself to write his opponent's name and instead called him the 'Emperor's Murderer'. At first, it seemed a measure of safety not to identify the banned spirit under his guard, but later it became clear that it was the memory of his opponent's beauty that pained him... Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo, February 3, 2000 Subaru woke to the sun streaming through half-closed Venetian blinds, creating highlights in narrow stripes on the black wall-to-wall carpet and glittering dazzlingly bright on the chrome and glass of the desk. Birds were clamoring outside on the barely visible trees. He'd never thought that birds could be so obnoxiously loud. They almost managed to drown out the snore— Snore? Subaru shivered, remembering whose bed he was in, and... The snoring stopped. He cautiously glanced sideways and found himself looking into a pair of unreadable golden eyes. He needed a moment to come to terms with the presence of a large red tabby cat staring at him from the other side of the bed. This was Seishiro's house, wasn't it? The cat yawned, showing a set of needle-sharp teeth and curled up again. Seishiro's bed, right? The snoring resumed. The cat was in...? Outside, a cabinet door closed soundly. The clang of dishes came through the partially open bedroom door. More sounds became discernible, now that Subaru was actively listening. Water being poured. The ding of a toaster, and the steamy bubble of a coffee machine about to finish its business. A radio was playing faintly; someone hummed slightly off-key with the tune. Someone... Seishiro. Subaru struggled out of bed, earning himself a baleful stare from the cat when he forcefully disentangled himself from the twisted sheets. He found Seishiro indeed making breakfast, moving deftly around the kitchen. Toast slices and a bowl of steaming white rice stood already on the table. The scent of miso and yamasa rose from the pot Seishiro was stirring— "There you are. Splendid! I was about to get you. Breakfast will be done any minute." "I really should be going—" "Nonsense. First, you have to eat something." Subaru slipped tentatively onto one of the chairs. A mug of steaming coffee was placed in front of him, its strong scent reminding him of yesterday's nausea. "May I have tea instead, please?" he asked uncomfortably. "I'm not—" Seishiro unceremoniously snatched the mug back, drank from it and set it down on the other place mat before he fetched a cup and a tea box from his kitchen cabinet. "Here, help yourself." He claimed the second chair. "So... Do you feel better?" "Y—yes." Subaru frowned. "You... put me in your bed." "It's early February, Subaru-kun. It's too cold to sleep on the floor," Seishiro chided. "Don't worry." He ran two teasing fingertips along Subaru's jawline. "You can pay me later." Subaru jerked his head away, shooting Seishiro a dark glare. "Pay?" He demonstratively busied himself preparing his tea. "I ought to charge you for services rendered." Seishiro chuckled. "I'm sure we'll reach a desirable agreement." "I don't think so," Subaru corrected. "I have—" The cooking timer shrilled and Seishiro returned to the stove. "No, I will go home." "Not before you've eaten something," Seishiro declared while he filled the soup into two bowls, one of which he immediately shoved under Subaru's nose. It smelled surprisingly good. Seishiro retook his own seat. "Itadakimasu," he said, unfolding his napkin. Subaru swallowed and reached for the rice. "Itadakimasu," he mumbled. ~:~:~:~:~ Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo, 11:17 The garden gate closed with the usual distinctive clang. For a brief moment, the lean form remained framed in the archway, then faint footsteps sounded on the stones towards the alley mouth. Seishiro turned away from the window. His glance fell on Subaru's half-eaten dish. He hadn't been surprised when Subaru had insisted on leaving. After all, his prey had wanted to flee even yesterday night when he wouldn't have made it as far as the corner. Subaru hadn't yet grasped what the marks could do to him and that yesterday's treatment had been an emergency measure, not a remedy. He collected the dishes, emptied them of solid remains and rinsed them briefly. Subaru's experience in spiritual shielding should — with a few tips — allow him to maintain his sensory integrity by closing himself off from the marks completely. There would be no need to teach him how to distinguish his body's impulses from any coming through the marks, which inevitably led to the finer points of mark work: locating the mark bearer from afar or reading specific information about him. It had taken dozens of Sakurazukamori to reach the current state of the art and even with training under optimal conditions it took years to achieve a full grasp on the marks. Some of his predecessors had never made it that far. Seishiro sorted the dishes into the dishwasher and checked the detergent. His own training on marks had begun when he was merely three years old, with carefully tempered spells instead of real marks to mitigate the unavoidable beginners' mistakes. Spells that could easily be lifted in case the effects threatened his life. And even then his mark training hadn't been declared finished until he was thirteen and— A cold chill ran over his spine. He slammed the dishwasher shut, switched it on, and went to wash his hands. Subaru wouldn't have a decade to learn. And Seishiro wasn't going to teach him much anyway. Aside from the fact that he was reluctant to give up his advantages, certain people would want his head if he taught critical techniques to a Sumeragi, especially to the head of their clan. Something bumped energetically against his shin. Seishiro stared, annoyed, at the purring cat who was apparently determined to shove him into the kitchen sink. He pulled Yoshi up by the fur of his neck. "Just whose cat are you again?" he asked. His answer was a tenfold volume increase in purring that nearly drowned out the melodic ding from his bedroom telling him that a special mail had just arrived in his inbox. Annoyed, he dropped the cat and headed for his laptop. As if his life wasn't complicated enough at the moment. Sitting down at his desk, he called up the interface. The message was large and strongly encrypted; decryption accordingly took quite some time even on his sophisticated system. What then appeared on the screen looked like a formal business letter including letterhead and company logo. He snorted. Emails were supposed to be short. from: Sakura Enterprises Incorporated - COO Sakurazuka Romiro - to: Sakura Enterprises Incorporated - CEO Sakurazuka Seishiro - Subject: priority one case: final stage BoD meeting - COO, CFO, CAO, CIO, CRO, CPO – today. Appointment time? Sincerely, S. R. (COO) Seishiro frowned briefly. A full 'Board of Directors' meeting without previous consultation usually meant something out of the ordinary. The set of participants was also interesting: operations, finances, analytics, information, risk assessment, and politics. The potential target had to be rather influential to cause such a stir beforehand. He threw a glance at his watch, then replied: CONFIRMED. 1400. SKZM He encrypted the message, hit Send and closed the laptop. There were a couple of things to be taken care of before that appointment; one of them was properly hiding the scars on his hands, another one was returning that purring monster to its owner. He reached for the phone. If matters continued like this, he was going to put Yoshino's number on speed dial. ~:~:~:~:~ Kabuki-cho, Shinjuku, Tokyo 13:28 Subaru extracted his key from the lock and looked disconcerted at his apartment before he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. It was exactly as it had been when he'd left yesterday. And yet... He put his boots onto the shoe board and found the floor icy under his feet. The rooms themselves felt cold, almost uninhabited. With a start, he realized that he'd left the balcony door ajar, allowing the chilly February night to take possession of the apartment despite the central heating system running at full force. He hurried to close it and stopped in his tracks, startled, when the wards in his bedroom sizzled at him angrily. Then he remembered the key in his coat pocket. He closed his hand around it. The metal felt warm in his palm. Seishiro had given it to him, insisting that he keep it... "I don't intend to come back," he'd said, trying to give it back. "And I don't expect that intention to hold," had been the dry reply. "This is a quiet neighborhood. People will notice if you sit in front of my gate again." Subaru threw an uneasy look at the scars on his hands; pale silver lines, long healed since the Final Battle. He shuddered and finally pulled the balcony door shut. He turned his back to the outside. The light on his answering machine blinked rapidly. Several pages lay in the tray of the fax machine. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking worriedly about the pile of assignments on his desk. Recently, he hadn't been able to cope with them and the marks. Still wearing his coat for warmth, he rewound the tape of the answering machine. Listening to the recorded calls, he collected the old and new facsimiles and sat on his bed to sort them out. The topmost was from the clan's financial custodian in Kyoto who inquired if his credit card had been stolen because of the atypical amount of food and restaurant bills appearing on it since January. He put the fax aside and checked the next. A job. A reminder about an appointment he'd failed to meet. A— =Subaru-san, you of all people ought to be aware that Tenjin-kami is not to be slighted regarding his places of worship.= Subaru froze, the fax still in hand. The stern voice of his grandmother coming from the answering machine held clear disapproval. =The Tenman-shrine at Waseda university requested its annual purification six weeks ago. Since then you have failed to appear on two appointed dates without explanation or notification. The responsible ujiko is accordingly upset, considering that the ume blossom festival is in five days. Hundreds of students will flock to the shrine to pay their gratitude for passed exams. =We are aware that the Year of Decision put unusual strain on you, but the Final Battle was decided over a month ago. Your tardiness cannot continue. The next date for the Waseda Tenman purification is February 3, at 15:30. I expect you to be there.= There was a pause, filled with the faint hum of the tape and the rustle of cloth, before his grandmother added much more softly, =...and Subaru-san, please, look after yourself...= If only he knew how. If only anything had been decided. If only— Subaru froze. February 3 was today and he'd spent the night in Seishiro's house, in Seishiro's bed, most likely in Seishiro's arms — though he had no recollection of that — at any rate he was in dire need of purification himself. For him to perform a purification ceremony was questionable at best. Fifteen-thirty. He leaped to his feet. There were less than two hours left for him to cleanse himself and get out there. But still... Tenjin-kami, he begged fervently as he ran to the bathroom for the briefest ritual washing possible. Please forgive my insufficient preparation... ~:~:~:~:~ Kasumigaseki-1, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo 13:56 Seishiro pulled from the Sakurada-dori onto the small parking lot opposite the Sakuradamon to the Imperial Palace grounds. He stopped on one of the three lots marked with 'Sakura Enterprises', collected his briefcase from the backseat — the automatic belt check produced obnoxious reminders if he put it on the second front seat — and left the car. After a long, contemplative glance at the Metropolitan Police Department on the other side of the street, he activated the central lock and the alarm system before he headed in a brisk pace for the two storey limestone building next to the Ministry of Justice. He eschewed the elevator and took the stairs to the second level. It was mostly habit these days; even when the nearby Yamanote line had been destroyed last year, the place hadn't suffered more than a paper mug tumbling off a desk. Romiro hadn't even found ceiling plaster in his coffee cup; a shame in Seishiro's eyes. He pushed through the glass entrance doors with the stylized sakura flower with five swords between its petals pointing at the edges of an imagined pentagram, and tossed his coat onto the coatrack next to the reception desk. With a dazzling smile for the startled receptionist, he crossed over into the conference room. As usual, the talking inside died the moment he opened the door. The six people present tensed and immediately claimed their seats. Identical files lay in front of each place. Glasses and a carafe with lemon water stood in the center of the oval conference table. Its ancient coloboro wood gleamed like fresh blood shot with old in the sunlight streaming through the open blinds. The projector was on, displaying their logo barely visible in the light. An employee closed the blinds. 'Sakura Enterprises Board of Directors meetings' were always meticulously prepared. An obvious benefit of the 'employees' living in fear of their unpredictable CEO. But then, he'd worked hard to keep them on their toes ever since he'd thinned out their lot and made the rest work for their money. Seishiro smiled inwardly, thinking of the uproar it had caused when he'd listed them in the Yellow Pages: "Sakura Enterprises – state-approved compostings". "Sakurazuka-san," his chief operating officer, Sakurazuka Romiro, greeted him coolly, a touch of irony in his voice. "How nice of you to join us." They shared the family name but the relation was distant at best — and not distant enough for Seishiro's taste. "May we beg—" Seishiro, his hand lying on the file he'd been given, signaled the office lady, Namane, to pour him a cup of black coffee. The strong, slightly metallic aroma of African Blend filled the room. She added his usual three pieces of sugar, stirred briefly and set the cup down next to his right hand. He felt the faint tingle of an expertly performed tracer spell in the coffee. Comparatively imaginative. He nodded his thanks and pointedly turned his attention to Romiro without touching the cup. "So, what do we have?" A muscle in Romiro's cheek twitched as he called up the first slide on the screen, showing front and profile images of a middle-aged man. "Sawada Takeshi. Forty-six. Conservative politician. Widower. One child, a son, born 1984, of no further importance for our business since he does not live with his father." Two smaller images at the bottom of the slide showed a cute youth — all legs and eyes — and an elegant woman, possibly in her thirties. "There are rumors of a female acquaintance and business contact, but no information about deeper attachment." The slide changed and Motohiro, responsible for business and financial information, took the word. Two slides later Seishiro knew that Sawada was well-situated though not exceedingly rich by comparison and that — despite his apparent influence — the tax office had probed his books more than once. The usual followed: the remaining speakers, according to their departments, informed him about everything they had dug up of Sawada's life since his birth certificate was issued in Nakano, forty-six years ago. Roughly one and a half hours later, Seishiro knew details like Sawada's school results, his first successes in industry and marketing, and his switch to the political theater relatively late in his career followed by an astonishingly swift rise in power. Romiro presented the last slide with a diagram summarizing Sawada's connections to politicians, business people, and organized crime. The lines between the names were either drawn black solid or red dashed, indicating confirmed or suspected connections. There were many suspicions but very few confirmed links. "Politically, Sawada is surprisingly influential, considering that he holds only a seat in the Lower House where he has kept a relatively low profile so far." Romiro indicated one of the dashed lines on the slide. "I might add that there is actually evidence for his involvement in the real estate speculation scandal last year, but it wasn't followed up. Apparently, it paid that he took pains not to inconvenience the government." Seishiro chuckled and poured himself a glass of lemon water. "Looks like he's inconvenienced them now." He had a sip and put the glass down again. "Any information how?" "My guess?" Romiro snorted. "The extent of his foreign political contacts and connections established without the Cabinet's blessing is suspicious. I wouldn't be surprised if he used them in a way not sanctioned by official government policy." Seishiro finally opened his copy of the case file and skimmed the first page. "There's nothing conclusive so far to mark Sawada as a target." He looked over the edge of his glasses at Romiro. "In fact, there's very little conclusive at all. So why are you wasting my time?" "Because the same can be said about Sawada's spiritual abilities. I've been investigating him since the order came in two weeks ago and—" Romiro threw him a dark look. "—he's almost as elusive as you." "I see..." Seishiro nodded. Romiro was six years his senior and his abilities ranked second to Seishiro's own within the organization, a fact which led Seishiro to believe that he'd cut in line before Romiro when he'd accepted the Tree's offer at fifteen. A fact he was sure Romiro was very aware of. Still, two weeks and inconclusive results from Romiro suggested that Sawada's abilities exceeded Romiro's, which would make him a perfect — as in very nutritious — but also dangerous target. "I might add," Romiro continued, "that our client explicitly demanded a traditional execution. Apparently, it is imperative to send a message to Sawada's connections that his actions are not tolerated." "So basically they want him put out of commission in a public place with my business card through his chest." Seishiro flipped to another sheet. "Yes, that about sums it up." Romiro nodded. "A natural death won't do this time. However, the number of unmonitored places which Sawada visits regularly is quite small. You may have—" Burning heat seared through Seishiro's hands. He felt the illusions covering the scars on the backs wavering, destabilizing rapidly under the pressure of the fiery red glow underneath. He knocked his half-emptied glass over, splashing the lemon water onto his pants and leaped to his feet, cursing. Namane rushed forward to dab at the soaked documents. "Excuse me." Seishiro rushed off to the lavatory. After turning the lock, Seishiro leaned against the lavatory door for a moment, gathering his wits before he examined the flaring pentacles on his hands closely. Damn it. That had been close. He queried his own marks, found Subaru on his knees in what appeared to be a small shrine, struggling to sort through the mess of sensations: his own, Seishiro's, Seishiro feeling his sensations... For a brief moment, Seishiro had the disconcerting impression of feeling himself leaning against the bathroom door watching Subaru feeling him leaning against... Subaru feeling him feeling Subaru feeling him feeling... He shook his head, dizzy. No! Slamming his shields shut, he broke the feedback loop. The pentacles on his hands burned almost white. He put all his power into the shields until their painful glare slowly subsided, now that Subaru had to sort out only two sensations: his and Subaru's own. With his heartbeat throbbing behind his eyes and hard breaths calming slowly, Seishiro, his back still against the door for support, admitted that their problem was bigger than expected. "Sakurazuka-san?" Someone knocked persistently against the lavatory door. "Is everything alright?" Much bigger. Seishiro tried to rebuild the concealment spells on his hands; when that failed he drew on the Tree's resources, aware that it wouldn't go unnoticed for long. The knocking rhythm changed. "Sakurazuka?" Romiro. Dabbing his still-wet pants with a paper towel, he exited the bathroom, brushing past Romiro and the disquieted office lady with a frown. "Can't a man even dry his pants in peace in this house?" Returning to the conference room, he immediately stubbed the now damp and slightly wavy file sheets into some semblance of order and tossed them into his briefcase. He had to get out of here before any of the executives present — especially Romiro — noticed he was working illusions on them. "I'll look into it." He snapped the case shut and turned for the door. Romiro blocked his path. "Sakurazuka-san, surely you—" He met the grey gaze calmly, contemplating getting a new COO. Romiro backed off and Seishiro pushed past him, taking his coat with a smile from a flustered receptionist. Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo 23:48 Seishiro eased the house door shut and locked it, blinking briefly when the hallway lights came on. The pain in the marks had gradually subsided to the distracting itch of healing burns. Leaving his coat on the rack, he slipped off his shoes and went up the stairs in search of his not quite unexpected 'guest'. The Tree had told him around eight in the evening that somebody had passed his wards and Subaru's was the only other key beside his own. He found him on the couch, out like a light. After administering a weak sleeping spell to make sure Subaru stayed that way, he headed into his bedroom, put the briefcase next to his desk and shrugged out of his jacket. Yawning, he fumbled with unsteady fingers on the collar clip. It had grown late; Romiro's shikigami had followed him for over six hours after he'd left Kasumigaseki and spending six hours straight holding onto his shields for dear life had taken its toll. He noted the faint pain in his shoulder and back when he finally stretched after getting his tie loose. Damn, he was getting old. Running his fingers wearily through his hair, he brushed the unruly strands out of his face and looked back towards the living room. He had yet to find out what to do about the problem still lying fast asleep on his couch. He couldn't risk something like today again, and with a case like Sawada's on his hands, he couldn't delay things indefinitely, either. He would have to teach Subaru a better grip on the marks, no matter the consequences. But mark work was intimate. If Subaru lost control like he had in their tryst at Imonoyama's while they were working the marks... that would do more than just scratch the skin off Seishiro's back. And if things went badly wrong, how would either of their deaths affect the Dao? He had to take precautions against that, but the prey he'd come to know years ago had grown into a man whose reactions didn't quite make sense to him. He couldn't afford such ignorance any longer. Pushing his weariness back, Seishiro went to get his paraphernalia. After washing his hands, Seishiro placed the daggers and a set of fuda next to the couch, then dipped his fingers briefly into the thinned sandalwood oil, spreading it over his palms to sensitize them. If everything went well, he would need neither daggers nor fuda. If. Concentrating, he first checked the sleeping spell, then began to test Subaru's energy centers. Touching three fingertips to Subaru's forehead, he felt for the upper tanden and the five secondary tan tien it was comprised of. He found them all well; the spiritual center was impeccable. Not really a surprise considering the extensive meditations the Sumeragi expected of their clan head. The emotional information of the middle tanden should be more interesting. He laid his hand solidly against Subaru's abdomen. Deep, even breaths moved the surprisingly hard muscles separated from his palm merely by a thin shirt. The heart pulsed steadily beneath the tip of his middle finger, but there was no unbalance – Subaru's yin and yang complemented each other exactly. Given a choice he'd never start a fight but he would fight if he had to and there was enough yang to make him a formidable opponent in that case. Seishiro spread his fingers, searched deeper and frowned. He had expected an unbalance if not a malfunction here, given the heated rage with which Subaru had bloodied his back at Imonoyama's, but he felt nothing untoward in this tanden. The reason had to be elsewhere, in the remaining lower tanden. But not much in the carnal center could account for such a frenzy. What was it? Sliding his hand beneath Subaru's lower back, Seishiro applied just enough pressure to feel the lower tanden through the cloth. As expected, there was no yin in Subaru's sex; his element wasn't Earth. But there was also no yang, no Heaven. He wasn't grounded, but would never be the one to take the initiative, either. It just wasn't in him. But what was? Seishiro sensed further, reaching for the secondary centers indicating the less likely elements — and froze. Water and Fire. Both were ambivalent in their properties, being yin and yang at the same time. Liquid Fire. He ran his hand slowly across the tanden, searched for other components and found none. Pure liquid fire — yielding passion — heaven on earth for a strong partner. With an unconscious, frightened whimper Subaru arched away from the continuing touch. Seishiro frowned at the sudden disquiet. In front of him Subaru moaned in a restless, dream-disturbed sleep. Seishiro swiftly brushed across a higher tanden, calming him, soothing the arousal and the fright. Subaru was afraid. For whatever reason he feared the passion and tried to suppress it. Because of his experience in meditation he was successful, until someone pushed past his mental barriers. Seishiro had seen at Imonoyama's what happened then. He propped an elbow on the edge of the couch and wearily rested his forehead in his hand. At least that wouldn't affect the marks in the beginning. Still... He felt Subaru's body touching his arm in the slow, steady rhythm of breathing. He closed his eyes. Just a moment, a respite, now that the scars had stopped burning... His head slid off his palm. The pillow underneath his cheek was warm... moving...
Notes: Tenjin, Tenman-gu, and ume trees. Tenjin started as a vengeful spirit at the beginning of the tenth century, bringing natural disasters over the capital of Heian until he was properly enshrined and worshipped as Tenjin-kami. Originally worshipped to placate his devastating ire, he was later recognized as the patron of scholarship. Tenjin's beloved ume trees blossom in February when exam results are announced. Sawada is a shady character of Leeza Sei's manga series "Combination". tanden, tan tien. Energy centers in Taoism, comparable to the chakras in tantra. The details vary a lot depending on the system of belief.