The breeze in the eternal night of the Spirit world increased, ruffling first petals, then whole tufts of flowers, and finally shaking twigs, even branches. By then, whole blossoms were torn off their stalks to disappear in the infinite darkness.
In this unruly night the Sakura kept a tight watch over its guardian. Yue's manifestation, in the main fork of its physical crown, sharpened the spirit blade while staring out into the quiet night of the living and listening to the whispers of the Lady Ginkgo. The spirit wind announced change and Sei-chan's fever had yet to fall. Sei-chan wasn't replaceable yet; his eldest was only fifteen and the Tree wanted succession as it was meant to be, not as it had been enforced these last hundred and thirty years. Years in which it had seen Tokyo engulfed in flames twice. The first time had been an earthquake, striking at midday at the end of summer — and if the Sakura hadn't used Yue's skills to throw up protection from the sakura trees of the park to the ginkgoes in Yanaka, its foothold in the world of the living would have ceased to exist. The second time, fire had rained from the sky. Its Sakurazukamori had been lost in the flames, but the spiritual protections built twenty years earlier had held. Afterwards, there had been two shocks in the distance, of ancient kekkai crumbling forever and scattering in a wind that still felt poisonous when it flowed through its physical branches days later. It had taken Sei-chan's terse descriptions forty years later for the Tree to understand what had happened, and his acidic comments for it to see what had gone wrong after the Battle of Ueno had left it blind to changes in the world of Amaterasu's children. The sword in the shadows was meant to keep the emperor merciful. Under the Mori it had done the opposite. Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo April 9, 2000 Light was seeping in thin stripes through almost closed Venetian blinds, hinting at late morning, when Subaru finally opened his eyes. He hadn't slept much after he felt Seishiro, feverish, reacting to a touch that wasn't his. Seishiro, who was still curled around him now, still sound asleep. Subaru felt slow, even breaths touching the side of his throat. The wool of Seishiro's slacks lay rough against the bare skin of his legs. The scent of sakura stuck heavily to their sheets; underneath he smelled sweat. And blood. Seishiro's own blood, or—? Subaru nudged him, but didn't get as much as a groan in reply. Seishiro was still too warm to the touch. The bandage around his right wrist had come loose. The skin underneath was reddened. Two deep scratches across the pulse were scabbed over, the rest were superficial abrasions. It wasn't a dangerous injury, but it looked painful. Given the fever, Seishiro was probably better off sleeping, but Subaru himself didn't want to spend all day in bed. Escaping it — or more precisely, Seishiro's stubborn hold — turned out to be a time-consuming task, which he finally solved by gradually replacing himself with his pillow. He winced when putting his bare feet to the floor; the scab on his sole had hardened overnight. He tucked the comforter around Seishiro, who buried his face with a contended murmur in the pillow, hugging it even tighter as he slept on while Subaru limped to the bathroom for some soft gauze pads. The kitchen was chilly, almost cold and Subaru hurried to turn on the radiator before searching for his tea set. He found it in the dish washer, still dirty; the machine hadn't been set to run yesterday. The water was also cold and the odor coming from the garbage pail under the sink didn't bode well, either. Normally, when he got up the kitchen was already comfortably warm and often miso soup simmered on the stove. The pail would be empty and outside; the coffee machine bubbling and the water for his tea hot. By the time Seishiro sat down with the morning paper or a paperback novel and his coffee, he'd have done all that — and probably more. Subaru had never seen the room in a condition like this, with haphazardly swept tiles and coffee-speckled cabinets. There was no time to clean just now, but the least he could do was make breakfast. A swift check of the fridge returned a whole cucumber, three tomatoes and a small lime. He placed everything on a chopping board and searched for a knife. Peeling the cucumber and slicing it thinly without cutting himself proved less difficult than he'd expected. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that this time he didn't wear slippery gloves and there weren't two people swarming around him, chatting, laughing, teasing, distracting him from the task. Or maybe it was just that it was quiet and nobody watched the first clumsy cuts until he got a feeling for the procedure. The glass bowl was half filled with cucumber slices when he finished. Cutting the tomatoes in eighths, adding them to the slices and squeezing lime juice over everything before mixing it all was a matter of minutes. Tasting the salad, he decided against additional spices and just threw a wet kitchen towel over the bowl to keep it fresh for a while. It also wouldn't hurt to make coffee for Seishiro together with his tea water... Five minutes later, he switched on the rice cooker and went to get the newspaper from the gate. Yoshi sat on the other side, looking expectantly at him through the bars. "You're spending more time with us than with your mistress," Subaru told him while unlocking the gate. "Don't you think she feels lonely?" The cat pointedly ignored the lecture and added a seam of hair to his pants before vanishing, tail high above its back, into the house. Subaru pulled the morning paper out of the bars of the gate and followed the cat slowly. ~:~:~:~:~ Hair brushed over Seishiro's cheek, tickling his nose. He sneezed and blinked sleepily. ...Subaru should have gotten a haircut instead of a dye-job. Red-blond isn't his col— A purr had him jerk away. Rolling, frustrated, onto his back, Seishiro seriously wondered if the additional layer of tracer protection for his daily mail was worth putting up with... ...that! He glared at the happily purring cat and his head made a serious attempt to kill him. Groaning, he laid an arm across his eyes to shield himself from the light. His open cuff flapped against his cheek. He froze. Open. Cuff. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. He remembered kicking off his shoes, but the rest... His jacket was unbuttoned; collar and cuffs of the shirt opened. He spotted his glasses — neatly folded — on the nightstand. And he was pretty sure he hadn't done that himself. His collar pin and the cufflinks lay next to them. And he was absolutely sure, he hadn't done that! Which left Subaru. Also for tie and belt being hung over the back of the desk chair. But... why? His head wouldn't stop throbbing, and it had taken strength to sit up. Not good. His pulse was too fast and too weak; his skin was clammy, yet he felt uncomfortably warm, indicating at least a light fever. Given the unpleasant condition of his clothes, it had been higher overnight — which also explained his thirst and the effort each movement took right now. It didn't explain the cat. He gave Yoshi another annoyed glare and forced himself to get up, putting a hand against the wall until he felt steady. Fresh clothes were a must. A drink and an extended shower were also required. He sniffed. Very extended. Bath. Water. Shower. Running his free hand over his cheek, he completed his list: Shave. And then he'd probably be awake enough to face whatever Subaru had done to his kitchen. ~:~:~:~:~ Seishiro arrived at breakfast about twenty minutes after Subaru had heard him showering. "I'm sorry. I seem to have overslept. I'll tackle the dirt later." In his black slacks and partially buttoned shirt he appeared relaxed, even at ease, as he went to pour himself a coffee. "We'll have to content ourselves with toast." "I've made a salad." Subaru indicated the still covered bowl, earning himself a sharp, instantly wary look. "And there's hot rice." He decided to overlook the cautious scanning of the room while Seishiro put his coffee down on the table and took a seat opposite him. He also ignored the brief query for spells that tingled in his marks when Seishiro uncovered the salad to serve himself, but when he reached over for the rice bowl and the sleeve riding up his arm revealed nothing of the injuries underneath, Subaru had enough. He banged his cup onto its saucer. "You don't need your illusions." Seishiro froze for the briefest of instants, then continued heaping rice into his dish. "I know your wrists and throat are slashed and you're running a temperature — or at least you did last night — so please stop wasting your strength. You're hiding nothing I haven't seen already." "Are you sure about that?" Seishiro returned, picking up his chopsticks and choosing an eighth of a tomato to eat. "This is delicious." "Are you afraid I'll spot your grey hairs?" Subaru challenged, ignoring the compliment. "Are you so eager to see me injured?" "No, but I'd like to see you and not an illusion of you." "Me?" Seishiro arched a brow. His eyes looked grey behind the cognac-colored glasses he wore indoors, but the slightly feverish gleam in them was still unmistakable. "Maybe I'm just another illusion and there's no one at all." But he appeared paler now; and Subaru could see that he had rebandaged his wrists, though not his throat. The skin there looked raw, reddened, and sore. A few small cuts, covered in scab, criss-crossed near the pulse beneath his jaw, but Subaru knew better than to ask about them. He watched Seishiro slowly, methodically emptying his dish. Seishiro wasn't going to "tackle the dirt" today, Subaru decided silently for himself. No way. Two hours later, Subaru dunked a cloth into the bright red plastic bowl he'd filled with warm water and detergent. The dried coffee stains came off easily enough, but the smears they left were still all too visible on the cabinets. The room was filled with lemon scent oddly matching the color of the furniture. Who would have thought of the Sakurazukamori having a lime green kitchen? Subaru stubbornly rubbed away at a particularly thick smudge. Seishiro had left the cleaning to him without much resistance, which said all Subaru needed to know about his real condition. He sighed, running the cloth a final time over the surface before he got off his knees. The floor needed a wipe, too. There were prominent paw prints across the tiles, the reason why he'd returned a reluctant Yoshi to his real owner earlier, despite the fifteen minutes small talk about kittens being in love with their vets which were usually involved. He glanced at the clock. The floor would have to wait, or he'd be late for his appointment with Omi. Wiping his hands with the dishtowel, he went in search of Seishiro, and found him in the living room. "I'm meeting a relative at Inamura's. I won't be—" Seishiro had dozed off with his feet stuck under the kotatsu and an open book in his lap. With the blinds closed against the early afternoon light, only thinnest strips of sunlight reached the black carpet. The comfortable dimness gave the room a dreamy, almost surreal quality. The diffuse lighting drew attention to the acrylic painting of the Sakura above the couch, erasing the red of the blood and accentuating the blues and the white of the moonlight... "Maybe I'm just another illusion." Subaru studied him thoughtfully. Seishiro had stuffed two of the blood-red silk cushions against the couch in his back. He seemed to be comfortable enough as he was. His chin rested on his chest; his left hand lay relaxed on the carpet. The white bandage around his wrist almost gleamed where the sunlight touched it. Subaru made sure that the kotatsu was warm, before he closed the living room door silently behind him. He'd leave a note for Seishiro on the kitchen table. Ueno-cho, Tokyo 14:57 It was a warm day for the 9th of April, feeling more like early summer than mid-spring. Subaru rounded the last corner towards the cafe. The afternoon sun was shining brightly, hot on his shoulders; he had forgone his coat. A few tables stood outside, shielded from the sun by the cafe's awning and from the passers-by by a row of potted palms. A group of middle-school girls in their white-and-blue uniforms occupied the largest of them, chattering, laughing, flashing cell phones. A couple of overweight tourists in screaming shirts had pushed their table out into the sun. Omi was nowhere to be seen. The door jingled as Subaru went inside. After the sun's glare on the stone paving outside, the interior of the cafe was dim. "Welcome to Inamura's." The waitress bowed to him, indicating a single table near the door. "If you would wish to be seated—" "I've arranged to meet a friend here. I believe he might already—" He spotted Omi in the back of the room. "There he is." "I'll bring you a menu immediately." The waitress smiled. Omi got up when he spotted him. Subaru was still the head of his clan... the fallen head... the... whatever he officially was now. Or would be. "Good afternoon, Omi-san. There's no need to be standing up. I apologize to have kept you waiting." "You didn't," Omi hurried to say, actually pulling out a chair for him. "In fact, I was early." Subaru sat down. The waitress offered the menu with a deeper bow than before, apparently judging him by Omi's politeness. Embarrassed, Subaru took the card and studied it, settling on plain coffee. "Would you like something, too?" he asked Omi. "A mocha, please." "Yes, sir." The waitress bowed when Subaru handed her the menu back. "Thank you." Omi's gaze followed her. The garden on the other side of the window was verdantly green. A small weeping sakura occupied its center in a circle of brushed white stones, surrounded by neatly cut grass and assorted flowering plants. A few of the sakura blossoms had already fallen, creating dark-pink spots on white stones and green grass. Dark-pink. Not crimson, not white. Subaru turned his attention back to the room and caught Omi craning his neck to peer into his collar. "Should I remove my shirt for a better view, Omi-san?" he asked calmly. Omi flushed a deep red. "I'm sorry, Subaru-san. I—" he stuttered and stopped with an embarrassed laugh. "Your grandmother was very insistent." "I quite believe that." Subaru sighed. "I assure you there's no reason for it." They fell silent. A carafe of iced water and two glasses were brought to their table, followed by their coffee. "You had a case yesterday?" Subaru started with a safe topic after the waitress was gone again. Omi nodded, relieved. "I was called to investigate a possible succubus down in Musashino-shi. The suspect was a young girl, three-years-old. Her father was very alarmed by the kind of sensations his daughter had begun to evoke in him." "Three years is young for an active succubus," Subaru commented, reaching for his coffee. "Yes, that's why I interviewed the father first, but his descriptions were conclusive. I was waiting with him for his wife and daughter to come home when we got a call around half past eight. They had been found dead near the cram school the girl attended." He poured a glass of iced water and sipped from it briefly; the icicles clicked faintly, revealing the tremor in his hand. "Please forgive me if I don't go into details; my Maya isn't much older. It's hard to see a young girl's chest being torn—" "What happened to the mother?" Subaru asked. The coffee in his cup was pitch black, its smell bitter; he stirred sugar and cream into it. A succubus could leave the stains he'd spotted on Seishiro's shirt yesterday... "Heart attack. The police believes it happened when she saw her daughter being killed." Omi put his water down and folded his hands neatly. "I'm not sure I believe that. I examined the location and there was no lingering spirit — in fact, not even a lingering sensation, as if the place had been deeply purified." "It probably was." Subaru put his spoon aside. "He had a job yesterday and he works neatly." Omi blanched. "You mean the Sakurazukamori—" "Yes." "I can't even begin to imagine how it is to be forced to stay with the— the antagonist." "Ant—?" Subaru couldn't help but laugh. "Sakurazuka Seishiro may be a lot of things, but he isn't the Anti-Christ." "But he is still our enemy. A murderer!" Subaru sobered. "I've come to the conclusion that the Sumeragi take that enmity a lot more seriously than the Sakurazuka. And do you know who gives him his orders? Do you even want to know who it is?" He took up his cup and had a first sip; the coffee was still bitter. "Omi-san. As things are right now, we — Sakurazuka and I — have no choice but to get along somehow. There is no escape from this. The marks don't force us to stay together all the time, but five hundred kilometers are just too much. We both have a tight schedule to keep up with and are tired enough just to want to rest in the evening." He shrugged. "It's not easy, but not as dreadful as you seem to believe." "Be careful to whom you speak like this," Omi said solemnly. "Your position within the clan isn't as secure as it once was. Right now, the elders are divided about what is more important: your honored position as a sacred source of the revitalized Dao or the shameful disgrace of your impurity from living with the Sakurazukamori." "Who is the other source of the Dao." Subaru laughed, humorless. "So what is your opinion? Am I beyond reason because I accept the things as they are?" Omi sipped from his mocha. "Did you really take him along on your jobs?" "Yes." Subaru sighed. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to work at all." "Aren't you worried about revealing our secrets to an enemy of the house? Who knows what he learned about our arts while following you around." Omi drew a deep breath and folded his hands in front of him on the place set. "In fact, that's probably the greatest concern of the elders, right along with the danger of you being unwittingly manipulated by him." Subaru reached for his cup. "They are probably more concerned about me being wittingly manipulated." Omi avoided his eyes. "Whatever the man is to you, he is a master of onmyojutsu. I'm uneasy about the Sakurazukamori discovering our techniques as well." Subaru took a large sip of his coffee, actually seeking the bitter tang before answering that. "Do you ever think of what I learn about him in return?" he asked, forcing himself to remain calm. "The Sumeragi aren't alone in having secrets. These—" He raised his scarred hand, reminding Omi of the marks. "—are at the very core of the Sakurazuka magic. And while I don't have to show him anything, he has to teach me about it." "Black magic isn't appropriate art for the head of the Sumeragi," Omi returned stiffly. Subaru snorted. "Magic is a tool. Yin and Yang are two sides of a whole. Which is white and which is black depends solely on how and for what it is used." He fixed Omi squarely, noticing clearly the uneasiness in his distant relative, and asked directly: "Are the elders accusing me of moral corruption? Has it come that far?" Omi avoided his eyes. "No, Subaru-san. Not... yet. But they are understandably worried." "As am I." Subaru leaned back in his seat. "About their apparent lack of knowledge regarding the basics of our art in a situation I can't end just like that." The silence lasted. Outside, the schoolgirls packed up their belongings and wandered off towards the park. The door chimed when an elderly woman entered. "Subaru-san," Omi asked finally. "Are you even looking for a way out?" Subaru was quiet for a moment longer, then he sought Omi's gaze again. "As much as Sakurazuka is." He signaled the waitress for the bill. "My train goes in forty minutes from Ueno Station." Omi glanced at his watch. "I think I'll go on foot instead of taking the Yamanote." "I'll accompany you." Subaru signed the bill presented discretely in a black leather folder and stood, pushing his chair back. "We won't have to hurry if we cross through the park." "Don't your... scars hinder you?" Omi asked cautiously, holding the door for him. "I don't want to inconvenience you." "You don't." Subaru stepped outside and blinked briefly in the late afternoon sun. "I wouldn't risk going to Odaiba or into Edogawa without a warning right now, but Ueno..." he shrugged. "I told you the marks don't force us to stick together all the time." "I see..." They crossed the Kototoi-dori and after a few hundred meters entered the half-shadows of the park. The young leaves were still thin, creating a colorful play of greenish shadows and orange-tinged sunlight. Subaru chose a safe path past the Tokyo National Museum and the fountains, avoiding the ancient trees in the park's depths. They kept a good pace. "Do you come here often?" Omi asked casually. "Occasionally. It's either Ueno Station or Uguisudani and if you arrive at Ueno Station, this is more convenient than heading up to the Yamanote tracks and getting into one of their crowded cars. It also allows for regular visits at Bentendo Hall." Omi nearly missed a step. "You worship Benzaiten?!" "I pay her respects," Subaru corrected; he stopped to look at the waterplays of the grand fountain, at the rainbows dancing among its jets when their height changed. Benzaiten was the goddess of all that flowed... water... words... knowledge... dreams... He shook himself free. "Last December, her power saved his Majesty the Emperor. Because she is knowledge, her word permeates everywhere. Trapped Within you can't call Amaterasu, but Benzaiten still hears you." He glanced briefly at Omi beside him. "She heard me." With a hoarse cry a white swan sailed past; wings spread wide as it landed on the green waters of the fountain pool. Subaru turned away from the hedge. The swan was Benzaiten's holy animal; it was also the shikigami of a Sakurazukamori who wasn't as gone as a fourteen-hundred-year-old spirit was supposed to be. "We better hurry. Or you'll miss your train in the end." Police sirens blared shortly after they'd taken the turn past the National Museum of Western Art towards the Koen exit of Ueno Station. Blue-uniformed personnel swarmed the area, stretching yellow warning tape across the path, ushering spectators away. "This area is closed to the public. Please use a different exit, pl—" "Sumeragi Subaru-san? Is that you?" A burly plain-clothed man was coming toward them. Subaru bowed politely as he recognized him. "Detective Kono-san." Kono sighed. "Please don't tell me there's a spiritual disturbance—" His cell phone shrilled; he glanced at the display. "The chief. Excuse me for a moment." He signaled his uniformed colleagues to let them be and turned away from them for the call. "Yes sir, the crime happened right in front of Ueno Station, opposite the Koen exit." Kono laid a beefy hand over his right ear. "No. Right outside the zone covered by the surveillance cams. Barely a meter outside their range." Omi leaned towards Subaru. "Shouldn't we be going?" But Subaru quietly shook his head. The detective's voice became louder, almost agitated. "I doubt that. Too controlled. Whoever did that knew exactly what he was doing. And where." He listened attentively to the caller. "No, I don't think—" Kono winced and held the phone briefly further away from his ear. "No sir, I won't rule that out without having a medium check out the scene. Yes, sir. Forensics is already waiting and—" Kono sighed as he looked at the phone, then pocketed it and returned his attention to Subaru. "So. Is there spiritual trouble about?" Subaru smiled inwardly at the blunt question. Kono-san hadn't changed much in the last eight years. "Do you expect any, detective?" he asked in return. "It's senior detective now." Kono scratched his head. "And actually, I wouldn't be surprised, given the circumstances of this case," he said gruffly. "And that you pop up in addition..." "I'm just passing by," Subaru assured him. "I live in Sakuragi now. Omi here was visiting me and I am bringing him to the station. His train goes in twenty minutes," he added. Omi bowed briefly. "Omi Tono. Onmyoji associated with the Sumeragi." Kono frowned. "Don't you assist our colleagues in the west?" "Yes, occasionally," Omi nodded. "I'm from Okutama." "Hm." Kono grunted. "We might solve both our problems at once." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "We have a body, obvious murder if you ask me, right in front of Ueno Station at the park entrance. If you two checked the scene and wrote me a clearance, I could send forensics to work and you just might catch that train of yours." "Of course we will assist you." Subaru glanced at Omi, then nodded. "Please show us the way." "I know that you've seen your fair share of bloodshed already, but I'd still like to warn you," Kono told Subaru, while leading them to the scene of crime. "This is one of the worst cases I've had in my career." "I understand." Subaru slowed a bit while he took one of his ofuda out of his shirt pocket. "Please don't be worried on my beh—" He stopped at the sight of the corpse. Omi at his side reflexively uttered a mantra to Amida Buddha. It was late and they had the sun at their backs. The first row of trees in Ueno Park threw long shadows towards the station. The body lay on the last meter of the pavement. Blood had pooled around it, trickled along the gaps between the stone slates. Blossoms stuck to the blood and the fist-sized hole gaping in the man's chest. Pale pink sakura blossoms, their petals almost as large as five-hundred yen coins. Seishiro had been in no condition to work today... Subaru took a step forward, blocking Omi's access. "I'd like to do this by myself. Omi-san, would you be so kind as to keep detective Kono from interfering?" Omi nodded silently and Subaru crossed the last meters to the corpse cautiously. Behind him, he heard Omi whispering, explaining the general procedure to an uneasy Kono. Subaru's ofuda glowed in the spirit world and in its light he found the three of them surrounded by rows upon rows of the ghosts of Samurai fallen in the Boshin war. Having spilled their blood for their honor and their Shogun, they respected strength, but they would kill him should he dare to threaten them. Not that he believed he could, given the handicap of the marks. Slowly, he knelt beside the corpse, studying the victim: a salaryman, comparatively young, wearing the usual dark suit and a shirt that had been a subtle shade of blue before most of it was soaked crimson. His face was distorted in a death mask of disbelief and pain; he had to have seen his killer. The spirit of a deceased lingered up to three days before it moved on, if it weren't persuaded to go on earlier. So where was that spirit? Subaru took a second ofuda, dipped it into the blood on the victim's chest. Kono protested, something about evidence, about contamination. Omi was talking frantically... The rows of ghosts opened in front of him, freeing his view to what they had come to guard here. And at once, Subaru knew he wouldn't learn the killer's identity, wouldn't even persuade this spirit to move on. For that a spirit needed to listen, needed to think, to answer... ...and somebody had made sure that it wouldn't. Subaru felt sick as the ghost staggered towards him, ephemeral hands stretched out blindly in front of a quivering, slowly fading body. Long threads of spiritual essence trailed behind it, flowing from the ragged stump of its throat where the head had been ripped off. Whatever the victim had seen, it was lost. Its blinded spirit would dissipate over the years in the spirit world, never to be reborn. Subaru bowed his head in acceptance. All he could do was end the suffering. The mantra was swift, sung in hard, biting cadences. His ofuda glowed an icy white in his hand before he tossed it at the spot it had touched on the body left behind. There was no scream, no outcry as the spiritual essence was torn, scattered, its fragments bleeding to nothing in a couple of heartbeats. One of the ghost warriors took a step towards him, laying his hand on the hilt of the katana he still wore even in death. He nodded. Once. And the whole army... ...was gone. Subaru drew a deep breath and whispered a prayer of compassion, before he folded his remaining ofuda neatly back into his pocket. "The area is clean. It is safe to send the examiners in," he said quietly, as he returned to Kono and Omi. "I don't have the official forms with me, but if you have pen and paper..." He accepted the small notebook and wrote a brief note, which he signed before handing everything back. "I'll send the documents to the MPD first thing tomorrow. And Kono-san—" He chose his words carefully. "Somebody powerful was involved in this. Somebody ruthless." Kono narrowed his eyes. "Somebody like you?" Subaru nodded. "But Omi and I were at the Inamura Shouzo cafe from three o'clock this afternoon until about thirty minutes ago." "Can you prove that?" "I think so." He fingered a small slip of blue-printed paper from his wallet. "The receipt should show the time. I'm sure the waitress remembers us as well." Kono nodded, gruffly. "We'll check that. Until then, keep yourselves available for us. How can we reach you?" "Via the main estate's number. It's the fastest way, really." He gave the detective one of his business cards. Kono frowned at it. "You said you moved close-by. What's your address now?" Subaru sighed, took the card and scribbled it on the back. "Please keep this confidential," he asked, returning it. "People like me tend to get unwelcome attention." "I understand." Kono pocketed the card. "But please remember that for the time being you two are suspects. Make sure we can reach you." He looked at Omi. "I'll need your address as well." "Of course." Omi handed him a business card. "No recent changes. You may also reach me on my cell phone." "Good. We'll call you." "Your... cohabitant's work?" Omi asked in a low voice after they'd left the hearing range of the cops. Subaru shook his head. "Definitely not." "Are you sure? The blood was still fresh; there certainly was enough time while we were at the cafe and..." Subaru raised his hand, indicating the pentagram. "I'd know." He threw a brief glance back at the park, thinking of a young man's spirit now gone forever. "And that..." He shook his head. "It's just not his style." Omi looked at him thoughtfully. "You asked for my opinion about you earlier. I'd like to answer that question now." He turned his back to the crowded Koen entrance of Ueno station. "You have changed, Subaru-san. I'm happy for you." "Happy?" Subaru asked, disbelieving. "Allow me to phrase it like this: Until recently, the thirteenth head of my clan was somebody who worked hard, who functioned, but if you looked closer at him, he just wasn't there. He didn't care about himself, but you can't care about the whole without caring for yourself. Now you do care and you're cautious about it, wary even, like you have something you don't want to lose. Like you know what losing it means." He bowed briefly at Subaru. "I'll contact your grandmother and tell her accordingly. But be aware of the elders. They will call on you soon." Subaru stood dead-still. Omi was gone, probably already on his train home, but his carefully chosen words seemed to reverberate in the din of the people going in and out of the station in front of him, passing him on both sides. "Like you have something you don't want to lose." "Like you know what losing it means." Was that true? Did he really not want to lose Seishiro? Seishiro and their weird not-quite-stated truce of sorts? "Maybe I'm just another illusion." But what if he wasn't? What— "Do you need help?" A station official in the typical blue uniform addressed him, looking concerned. Subaru blinked. "No, sir." He shook his head. Again. "I'm fine." And beyond help already. Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo 20:46 Subaru sat down with the forms at the kitchen table after Seishiro had retreated to the living room again. Earlier, they'd had rice with chicken broth for dinner. Nothing fancy, but it was easy to make with instant stock. Subaru had cleared the table afterwards and the dishwasher was running now. A spiritual clearance certification was a standard form; Subaru had issued thousands already. He swiftly filled in his name and the date, time and place of the incident: ~Sumeragi Subaru — April 9, 2000, ca. 15:30 — Ueno Station exit of Ueno Park, Ueno-cho, Taito-ku, Tokyo~ Reason for clearance being required: ~Violent homicide on location~ The police would have precise descriptions anyway. He re-read the form, added his personal seal, and put his contact address and phone number underneath. Yes, that should do, except... He added a brief warning about a powerful practitioner being involved in the crime, before he folded the form neatly and sealed it in the envelope. He'd drop it off at the nearest police box tomorrow. He stretched and went to put the envelope in his coat pocket. A bluish flicker and faint music coming from the half-closed living room door told him that Seishiro had found something on tv. "...time flows on endlessly, while whispering that everything is illusion..." Time was running out, and nothing was an illusion. Subaru entered the living room just in time to see the show's title displayed on the screen: ~Salaryman Kintaro~. Wasn't that the flick Sorata had talked endlessly about? Surely, Seishiro wouldn't—? "The pilot of season two," Seishiro told him from his place on the couch behind him. "And you aren't transparent." He pulled his legs closer, freeing an end of the couch. Feet in smooth dark grey socks nudged against Subaru's thigh after he sat down, seeking the warmth between him and the cushion. One of the legs of Seishiro's burgundy cotton pants had ridden up his ankle a little. The actor on the screen played a salaryman with a small son and apparently some yakuza background, reminding Subaru of this afternoon's victim, of the mutilated spirit he'd scattered into nothingness... Someone powerful. And ruthless. He felt cold; the toes pressing under his thigh were warm, solid. After a moment, he leaned against Seishiro's legs, resting his shoulder against Seishiro's knees. 22:21 Seishiro had dozed on and off during the program already, so Subaru feigned a yawn and went to bed over an hour before their usual time. Fifteen minutes later, he lay curled up on his side of the bed, resting his cheek on his hand, and pretended to be asleep while Seishiro slipped under the cover on the other side; his slightly irregular breathing became deeper and slower quickly, mixing with the faint humming of the dead protecting the house. For a moment Subaru thought he recognized some of the voices from the park. Their song was strong, melodious. But who could employ the dead for a task like—? Subaru started when the phone shrilled suddenly. He sat up just in time to see Seishiro groping across the nightstand for the phone, snatching it off the hold and— "What?!" A brief pause and— "Yours." Seishiro tossed the cordless over to his side of the bed. Subaru barely managed to catch the receiver before it slipped over the edge. "Hello? This is Sumeragi Subaru speaking." =Subaru-san? Is that really you?= "Grandmother?" he inquired, surprised. Seishiro pulled the cover up over his ears and grumbled something like "Tell her office hours are nine to five." "What happened?" Subaru asked, covering the receiver with his hand and turning his back to him. =It's the ninth of the month. I just questioned the fires about your future again.= There was a faint quiver in her voice that could mean only— "What did you see that upset you so, grandmother?" =I am not upset, Subaru-san. I am quite joyful. You will take the Sakura into the light!= to be continued in Family Matters - Interregnum 5 Notes: Detective Kono and the Nakano Subway murders are featured in Tokyo Babylon OVA 2.