...Heat and Obsession...
...Power and Play...
...Control and Lust...
It had found lust the most intriguing: so very different from any of its experiences as a cherry tree, and so contrary in itself. Men spent so much of their strength and effort on it — just to fade in the afterglow. The concept didn't make sense, until it learned from Yue that it was about seeding. And desire. And — most of all — power.
The Tree's branches quivered, releasing a torrent of crimson-lined petals into the ever dark maboroshi night. Power was a concept it understood.
Power. And Play.
Ueno Park, Tokyo
March 28, 2000
The yellow warning tape crackled in the fresh breeze that chased the spring clouds out of the sky. The morning sun glittered on the white lacquered metal sign bearing the official symbol of the Tokyo Garden and Park Department above a warning: Disinfestation in progress — Do not pass. Seishiro planted it firmly in the dark soil and allowed himself a smile.
The annual disinfestation of the notorious species 'hanami enthusiast'.
Though in the year of his entrance exams to university, when the cherries had blossomed exceptionally early, Seishiro had learned the hard way that the only way to keep the Tree out of mischief in a park clogged with people was to sit under it day and night.
Two-thousand-six-hundred-and-something years old, and it didn't know better than to snack on two drunken salarymen sleeping it off on its roots. Not the wisest choice of diet for an entity sensitive to alcohol but immune to aspirin, and possessing the metabolic speed of any ordinary tree. Seishiro sighed and settled comfortably against the trunk for a brief rest before a very busy day. A twig brushed the skin under his ear.
...stop nagging me... the Tree whispered with myriads of blossoms moving in the spirit wind. ...It wasn't that big a deal...
"Three weeks." Seishiro reached up and ran his hand leisurely through the thick tuft of flowers. "Three weeks of hangover aren't negligible."
...You're petty... the Tree complained, brushing the cushioned twig along his jaw while another wound slowly around his waist. And stopped. ...You've lost weight... the Tree scolded earnestly. ...You must look after yourself...
"Can't be helped," Seishiro sighed. "Two jobs at once and a new pet will do that to you."
The Tree tipped his head back, forced him to look up into its glowing, ever-moving crown while countless petals rained down around him.
...He isn't a pet to you anymore, and you know it...
~:~:~:~:~
Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo
09:17
Breakfast was a quiet affair with Seishiro already gone. Subaru had another sip of his tea, then put the cup aside and read through the fax again. Its paper had a tea stain and one of its corners was soaked in milk that had spilled over from his cereal, the result of Yoshi unexpectedly venturing across the table onto his current place: Subaru's lap.
The case description was precise and surprisingly detailed. Instead of an appointment date, a contact phone number was given. Apparently, where the government was concerned, the main house considered it wiser to let him make his own appointments than to run the risk that he'd cancel theirs.
There had been several sightings. The descriptions by numerous witnesses indicated apparitions that looked similar but differed in size and behavior, ranging from the height of a Barbie doll to that of a human being, from silent tears to maniacal laughter. The sites where the apparition had been spotted were scattered unusually wide, covering the National Diet Building, its side wings holding the House of Councilors and the House of Representatives, and even the Diet Library on the other side of a busy street.
Absentmindedly, Subaru ran his fingers through Yoshi's fur, which was no longer scruffy and torn since he'd begun to fetch the paper in the morning, secretly letting the cat in. A faint, contented purring arose, reverberating through him, and for a few breaths he just sat there, enjoying the quiet peace, before he determinedly pushed the resistant Yoshi off his lap and went to call the Diet secretary for a first inspection of the site.
Subaru left the house twenty minutes later with a wriggling Yoshi in his arms. He hadn't felt comfortable leaving the cat on its own. Locking the door behind him, he threw a brief look across the small lane beyond the garden gate. There were only two houses here: Seishiro's, and Yoshino's next to it at the corner. On the other side, the Yanaka cemetery stretched down to the street, hidden behind a high, rough-stoned wall. Now, at the end of March, greenery sprouted at the wall's foot and crown, giving the place a rustic, almost idyllic touch.
So unlike anything he'd always associated with Seishiro, with the Sakurazukamori. On the other hand... the lane had clearly at some time been a side entrance to the cemetery. Once past Seishiro's house it turned into a narrow, seldom-used dirt path, skirting the wall of Seishiro's garden after running through a rusted gate hidden under old trees and tall shrubs. A birch had wound itself through the corroded bars, holding it open for eternity, and the massive trunks and branches of the sakura lining the cemetery paths beyond were full of thick, plump buds, ready to burst into flower. So maybe it wasn't that odd...
Holding an unhappy Yoshi closer, Subaru crossed Seishiro's plain, almost bare garden, closed the gate with his foot, and headed towards the street corner.
Unlike Seishiro's, Yoshino's gate always stood open. Tidily pruned beds of spring flowers lined the white-stone path to the house door. A round ceramic fortune cat, looking suspiciously like Yoshi wearing a kappogi, raised its paw on the small terrace in front of it.
Subaru climbed the three steps that led up to the door and tried to ring without dropping the squirming cat.
"Can I help you?"
Subaru turned and saw a small, elderly woman in gardening clothes looking across a hedge at him. "Maybe; I'm looking for Yoshino-san."
"Then you've found her." She left her thick gardening gloves on the stones and came over to him. "You're the one living with Sakurazuka-sensei, aren't you?"
"Yes; my name's Sumeragi." He stepped down from the terrace. "I've got to leave early today and I didn't want to lock Yoshi in."
"Thank you for bringing him." She took the big cat out of his arms with practiced ease and casually stroked it under the chin, provoking a loud purring. "I'm glad that Yoshi didn't inconvenience you or the sensei. Few people are as accommodating as Sakurazuka-sensei with a nosy kitten practically moving into their house."
Subaru nodded and turned to leave.
"By the way, would it be convenient for you to take his mail, please? He's got quite a few letters today and I'll be off visiting my sister later."
Subaru stopped, turning back. "Of course I can take his mail."
"Thank you." She sat Yoshi down and went inside. A few moments later, she reappeared with a stack of eight or nine letters.
"Do you always collect his mail?" Subaru asked, surprised.
"Yes, it's easier for the mailman and the sensei tends to work late."
So that's why Yoshi hasn't suffered from sakanagi yet. You're— Subaru almost dropped the letters when he felt the spell spilling over his hands. He drew the protective symbol almost in reflex, scattering the tracer before it could embed itself. A tracer spell on Seishiro's mail...
"Is something the matter?" Yoshino asked, concerned. "Don't you feel well?"
"All's fine, Yoshino-san. Please, don't worry," Subaru reassured her quickly. But I have to worry... and Seishiro, too.
Nagata-cho, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo
National Diet Library
4th floor
It was well into the afternoon when Subaru, guided by deputy minister Ishido, crossed the large entrance lobby of the National Diet Library and took the lift to the upper floors. He was worried. There was an unusually large number of spiritual signatures scattered all over the place, all too weak for proper identification; he'd found dozens apart from the spots where the apparition had been sighted. The area itself felt strange, too, ringing with spiritual energy that had nothing to do with apparitions. The last time he'd been here had been the night before the fight on Rainbow Bridge. Now the revitalized kekkai underneath the Diet Building vibrated against him, calling out to one of its sources, stirring up memories he wished to forget. He'd never felt any kekkai that strongly before, except those he'd created himself.
He had probably created this one; at least partially. He wondered if the kekkai around Tokyo called out to Seishiro as well. Or was the Dragon of Earth repelled by them while he was attracted? They were Yin and Yang forming the Dao; equal but opposite sources of it. What was the crux, equality or opposition? And—?
"Sumeragi-san. We have reached the fourth floor." The deputy minister interrupted his thoughts, looking concerned. "Are you well?"
The second one to ask him that today! "I'm fine, thank you. I just feel... the importance of this place weighing on me." Subaru left the elevator and found himself in a sterile looking lobby with a reception desk and two armed guards left and right of it. A sign above the desk read: ~Contemporary Documents. Application form and special clearance required. No camera or pens beyond this point.~
Subaru looked back at the deputy, who flashed his ID at the desk clerk. There was an unlit corridor to the right that somehow drew him in. Several doors went off it left and right; at the end was a window framed with a few green plants and a small set of chairs. Above the last door to the right glowed an emergency exit sign. The place looked unspectacular, except for the armed guards who hurried to block his path when he moved towards it.
"Let him pass. The prime minister is glad to have Sumeragi-san look into the—"
A door further down the corridor opened. "Moshinoto, I need a second notepad and the Hashiba family registry back to 1965 and—" Seishiro stopped in the doorway and looked at them questioningly.
The desk clerk hurried past Subaru. "Excuse us, Sakurazuka-san, may I introduce you to Su—"
"That won't be necessary. We're already acquainted." Seishiro's eyes met Subaru's in silent, amused challenge. "This is quite a surprise, Subaru-kun. It's been a while."
"Yes." About five hours. "What are you doing here?"
"I think I should be the one asking that," Seishiro smiled, tapping on the ID card with his photo and the logo of the National Public Safety Commission clipped to his lapel.
"I'm not free to talk about that." Subaru shrugged. "You know what that means." There was no spiritual signature here, except Seishiro's in front of him. He wondered if that was what had drawn him, or if the kekkai calling them had something to do with it as well. The signatures at the other spots had also been vague, indicating either a very weak spirit, or a very focused one who'd had some sort of spiritual training in life. Considering the number of manifestations, he was sure he was dealing with the latter.
Subaru walked past Seishiro to trail his hand over the chairs near the window, making sure that Seishiro's was really the only signature here. He returned slowly.
"There was a tracer on your mail," he said in a low voice on his way back. "You—"
"Let's discuss that in a more private setting." Seishiro indicated the room behind him.
"Sakurazuka-san!" The clerk rushed forward. "That isn't permitted! You're accessing highly sensitive information. You can't possibly—"
"I can't?" Seishiro turned in the doorway, arching a brow at the man.
"Sumeragi-san doesn't have the necessary clearance," the clerk protested sternly, "and—"
"Use mine!" Seishiro closed the door into his face. With a faint click the electronic lock sealed the room. "Moshinoto's such a bore — like these papers."
"I could get in trouble for this," Subaru remarked quietly. "I really—"
Seishiro's fingers traced his jaw. "Don't worry. You'll look properly ravished when leaving. Nobody will believe you'd have had time to study sensitive documents." The golden eyes looked almost grey behind his cognac colored glasses. Grey and—
Subaru's collar button came undone under Seishiro's nimble fingers; Subaru caught the offending hand. "No." He glared at Seishiro. "Neither of us has the time for your games!"
"Not? How disappointing." Laughing faintly, Seishiro shoved aside a disorderly stack of documents covered with ID photos and stamps of +confidential+ and +eyes only+ to half-sit on the edge of the table. "So, what is it?"
"There was a tracer on one of the letters Yoshino-san gave me for you this morning. I dispelled it immediately, but it might have made contact." Noting that Seishiro's mirth was completely gone, Subaru brushed his right thumb over the scars on the back of his hand. "You should probably check your marks."
Seishiro nodded. "Tonight. If it has connected, it's subtle. Something stronger I'd have already noticed. That's nothing I'd address in passing on a pile of files. Speaking of which—" He pushed himself off his perch, running his key card over the scanner to unlock the door. "You had better get going. Or I'll have to do more than ruffle your hair to reassure them."
"Don't you dare—" Subaru began. A firm hand suddenly pressed against the small of his back.
"Wait for me, love," Seishiro, pushing him out the open door, said huskily next to his ear. "I'll be home at eighteen-thirty."
"You—!" Subaru began and found himself in front of a closed door.
"Uhm... Sumeragi-san? May I ask—" Ishido stuttered, clearly uncomfortable.
Subaru ignored him. "There's nothing here. If there are no other buildings where sightings occurred, we're done for today." He took brisk strides towards the lift. "I will plan the exorcism for tomorrow and contact you to set the time."
"But the security—"
"Good day, Ishido-san."
~:~:~:~:~
Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo
It was well into the night, much later than he'd planned, when Seishiro finally closed his door behind him and slipped off his shoes, leaving them haphazardly under the coat rack. He was tired. It hadn't been easy to locate Sawada's son Toshiro; the fact that he was hiding with a former Metropolitan police detective had been an additional challenge.
Seishiro suppressed a yawn and turned his attention to the neat stack of letters on the small hallway table next to the warded steps. A white fuda gleamed on top of them — just in case.
Subaru was careful, but his caution wouldn't help much. The letter in question had been in the normal daily mail, otherwise it wouldn't have ended up in Yoshino's hands, and the tracer attached to it had still been active. There were only three options: the tracer was precisely set and the only reason it hadn't connected with Yoshino was Subaru's unlucky timing — Seishiro judged the chance for that to be negligible. It was more likely that they were dealing with a personalized tracer specifically designed to attach to his brand of magic, or with a multi-layered tracer that reported everybody it encountered. In both cases, Subaru's warning was justified; the marks had to be contaminated.
A small thread of smoke arose from the stack of mail under Seishiro's dark look. He knew of only a handful of onmyoji capable of a personalized or a multi-layered tracer, discounting himself and Subaru — that left Romiro, because Subaru's grandmother wouldn't peel strips of skin off a living child just to inconvenience him.
It was possible that Romiro expected him to be careless, considering the amount of work on his hands and the mounting pressure from the client. Seishiro ground his teeth. Now, they would see who of them was more ruthless. The small stack of letters burst into flames, staining the table underneath.
~:~:~:~:~
"Uh?" Subaru blinked sleepily in the dark. The only light was the red glow from the LED display of the alarm clock: 03:48. The blinds were closed. He reached for the bedside lamp—
A hard hand gripped his neck, pressed him face down into the sheet. "No! I—" He tried to kick, but a heavy weight came down onto his lower back. He couldn't bring his hands under him.
"If you believe you've got a say in this, you're mistaken," Seishiro's voice said just next to his ear. "Keep yourself shielded or you'll regret it."
Subaru squirmed as teeth grazed his pulse. Metal glided over his skin, cutting away his underwear. "Don't you da—" His legs were spread apart, exposing him. "Don't—" A knee pinned his left thigh painfully to the bed. "Seish—" Something slick was dripped onto him, followed by— "—ah." Fingers traced over his entrance, massaging, tantalizing. His breaths were short angry bursts into the rumpled sheet, when his body betrayed him, opening readily, aroused against his will.
"Relax or you'll bleed."
Subaru was entered, spread. He gasped. Pain mingled with pleasure when Seishiro pulled him up, framing him with his legs. Subaru nearly panicked; a firm hand on his abdomen pressed him down, keeping him completely speared; the other held him upright, caressing his chest, moving up to his face. Fingers forced his mouth open, dipped into it. He tried to bite, but a firm grip blocked his jaw. He moaned. The hand clasped his face, two fingers on his tongue. He couldn't swallow, couldn't— Saliva dripped over his chin.
Heat. Helplessness. The world defined by the contact, the hand on his skin, in his mouth, being held, taken...
Delirious, he pressed himself down, impaled himself deeper, begging for more...
"Touch yourself," Seishiro's voice ordered dispassionately in the dark.
He obeyed, finding himself unable to resist, his swollen flesh hot against his palm. His wrist trembled against the arm still holding his lower body firm while Seishiro moved slowly, sensually inside him. His head spun. He—
"Harder."
He struggled to follow the cold command. Seishiro's wet hand abandoned his mouth, gripped his throat, forcing his body into a faster, stronger rhythm. Subaru gasped; his body tightened, strained—
The arm stopped pressing him down; Seishiro's hand closed over his tip. With a strangled sound Subaru came into the hot palm; the tremor of his release had Seishiro spilling inside him. His head fell back onto Seishiro's shoulder. Eyes closed in the dark; the world reduced to touch and scent, taste and sound...
Seishiro inside him. The musky odor of sweat and sex...
The sweat he licked, dazed, from Seishiro's throat. Racing heartbeats gradually slowing against his back...
The first light of dawn trickled through the blinds. Seishiro released his throat, laid cool fingers against his brow, stroking his hair back, drawing something with saliva, whispering. His voice was a velvet caress against Subaru's sweat-damp brow: "I told you you'd pay me."
The black shadow of a hand covered his eyes.
Darkness.
When Subaru woke up he was alone in the large bed. Naked beneath the coverlet, his legs still spread. His seed had been cleaned off him, but a squishy feeling told him that nothing else had been removed. The house was silent, empty; the susurrant voices of the dead protecting it were no longer singing. Seishiro was gone. But he'd left no doubt about his power over Subaru.
Naked, Subaru studied himself in the mirror, laid cold fingertips onto the dark marks Seishiro had left on the pale skin of his throat and shivered again at the memory of long fingers invading his mouth, forcing him open, drawing on his skin...
Minuscule crystals glittered in the harsh light of the halogen lamp above the mirror. He craned his neck and tried to decipher the symbol drawn in dried saliva on his forehead.
~Shield~.
His mirror image frowned at him. A second character was outlined on his cheek, one he hadn't even realized had been drawn. This one was drawn with semen.
~Seclusion~
No wonder he couldn't feel Seishiro's presence any more. It wasn't the house that was silenced. It was him. The spell lay like rime ice on his skin and—
Something wet and sticky trickled down his legs. Avoiding his mirror image, Subaru used a towel to wipe himself clean and limped to the shower. Rinsing away the rest, he thought resignedly that expecting Seishiro to use a condom was probably asking too much.
Of course he hadn't used one, Subaru concluded grimly, standing under the streaming water. Vamachara. The invasive. The forbidden. The spell woven around him wouldn't have worked then. He turned the water as hot as he dared and harshly rubbed the characters off his face. The ice around him remained.
Something gleamed in the sunlight on the table when he came into the kitchen half an hour later to make himself tea. A note, handwritten and secured with the honey jar, waited for him:
~Change the sheets.~
~:~:~:~:~
Tatekawa-cho, Sumida-ku, Tokyo
11:12
1-8-7 Tatekawa turned out to be a sprawling, six-storey apartment complex of nondescript architecture uncompromisingly designed for functionality. Its white painted walls were decorated with a few spots of orange and blue-grey lining the windows and the storey levels. The only decoration of the entrance area was a slightly withered potted plant under the bill board.
Seishiro didn't need to study the twenty-odd names listed on it to know that his target lived on the fifth floor. The entrance door led to a narrow but clean corridor with two elevators on the left and a staircase on the right.
Seishiro took the stairs. The metal railing was lacquered in orange, gleaming in the light coming from the small windows on each turn. Somebody had put a cactus on the windowsill on the fourth floor, a label with a smiling flower dangling down from it. Childish characters proclaimed proudly, "Strawberry cactus-san belongs to Aika-chan". A little pink plastic watering can stood on the floor underneath.
The door to the fifth floor opened soundlessly. The building seemed deserted at this time of day. Seishiro crossed the hallway swiftly. Black gloves ensured that he wouldn't leave fingerprints anywhere in the building. Hashiba's door sported a modern lock, smooth and clearly well-maintained; a sophisticated system with an interesting set of internal specifications well above the overall standard of the house. Seishiro smiled. The opening mantra which was coming to life within the pentagram his fingertip drew around it didn't care about specifications.
~:~:~:~:~
Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo
11:24
Subaru sniffed the tea, sipped it, had it burn his tongue and put the cup back down onto the table. He'd tried to break the frost on his skin again and again, but it hugged him too tightly to allow for any leverage. Shivering, he slung his arms around himself, trying in vain to squeeze some of the warmth that his spirit missed into his body. His fingers dug into his skin, long, hard, until his nails drew blood, coloring the rime pink.
Like cherry blossoms.
He had participated in its construction, unknowing of course, unwitting, but that didn't count in Seishiro's brand of magic. The pentagram stood for Matter over Spirit. In other words: carnal reality over chaste intentions.
Subaru balled his fists. In truth, he'd been anything but unwilling, anything but chaste.
Frustrated, he scratched at the ice on his skin and the cold cut into him. He closed his eyes, forced the hurt back and searched for a crack in the shield...
There was none, just a spot where clear sensations whispered through the frosted ice obscuring everything else. He should shield himself. He didn't. He couldn't. He felt...
...whispered words spoken elsewhere. A young man, barely in his twenties yet, was looking up at him into a face that wasn't Subaru's, a face he just knew sported a kind smile, speaking words of damnation. "A metagenetic virus is encoded in your cerebral cortex. In a few years you will accidentally release it, causing more than five million deaths worldwide."
"So I have to die instead?" the youth asked quietly, too composed for his years. The reaction of someone who'd already seen too much.
"Yes."
"I can't escape?"
"No."
The youth lowered his gaze briefly. "Will it hurt?"
"Not this time."
There was no strike, no torn flesh that tightened around his wrist, no frantic flutter of a dying heart against his pulse about which Subaru still had nightmares. The spell wasn't even voiced. The youth's incredible wide eyes dilated further in the shadow Seishiro's body cast over him, almost cradling him. His last breath was a whisper, a name. "Hashiba..."
"Sayonara, Toshiro-kun."
Tears spilled down Subaru's cheeks. He rubbed them away angrily, but more followed, drawing glittering traces over the rime on his skin and reminding him of the cold he hadn't felt moments ago. Was that what Hokuto's death had been like?
Would it have been like that to be killed by Seishiro?
~:~:~:~:~
Tatekawa-cho, Sumida-ku, Tokyo
11:28
The boy in the living room of the small apartment looked peaceful, as if he was merely sleeping, when Seishiro turned and left the place. Outside, he slipped an unused sim card and the battery into the cell and called the office. "Target executed. I am continuing with the order. Place an emergency call for 1-8-7 Tatekawa, Apartment V-2, Hashiba. Tell the press that representative Sawada's only son has died unexpectedly of unknown causes. Make sure they learn the address." He flipped the cell closed and removed the battery. After a moment, the small phone on his palm dissolved in a gust of petals, and the Tree complained about the lack of nutrient in his diet.
Don't worry, Seishiro laughed faintly in his thoughts. You're going to get dessert. He pushed through the door of a small cafe, took a seat at a table near the window and ordered a latte. Outside, he heard the first sirens. Flashing police cars stopped in front of the house down the street. The waitress, setting the coffee down in front of him, threw a concerned look through the window.
"Do you have an idea what happened down there?" she asked.
"No," Seishiro shrugged. "But it seems to be something serious."
"You think so?"
"There are a lot of official vehicles," he nodded towards the commotion outside, where the usual chaos of policemen, detectives, medics, coroners, and curious neighbors took shape. Reporters swarmed the place. The news and television vans were already circling the house for the best views. Seishiro smiled, hidden behind his coffee cup. A quick response — but then, the crime scene was the apartment of a former detective, the victim the son of a Diet member. He took a sip of his coffee and found it surprisingly tasteful.
If not the death of his son, then the risk of the press not seeing him mourning said son would flush Sawada out here — into a neighborhood beyond the central surveillance ring. He didn't have to wait long. Outside, a police car raced past the shop window, followed by a black armored limousine forcing its way through the masses. Sawada. Face ashen, bodyguards positioned...
Seishiro emptied his cup slowly and signaled the waitress for the check. Time to go to work again.
He struck in midst of the crowd, right between Sawada's nervous bodyguards. Swift. Precise. A minor spell took care that the blood didn't stain his coat when he didn't pull out immediately. He watched the horror creep into Sawada's eyes as he realized his impending death, watched the pain of the heart being held by another's hand inside the chest register with the man. Sawada opened his mouth. Instead of words, dark blood flowed over his lips. The scream was nothing but a faint burble.
Seishiro straightened his arm, felt his hand breaking through the back; only then did he push himself free. He carefully maintained an illusion of Sawada first talking with him, then with somebody who had a vague similarity to himself, so that later, witnesses would confuse them. He slung his coat over his arm, hiding his bloodstained hand from the cameras, waving cell phone and notebook in the other — just another reporter who worked himself out of the din to call his editor about a news tidbit he'd just caught.
A faint ache throbbed in his temples. The spell around the illusion was complex, including reluctance to address, to touch, even to look towards its center. It covered a large area making sure every camera pointed elsewhere while the illusion of a seemingly heartbroken representative Sawada hid the truly heartbroken representative Sawada underneath. He allowed the illusion to spurt blood and crumble, finally matching the reality after he'd crossed around the corner onto the Shiohashi-dori.
The intense magical emanations of the Tree processing its prey surged against his shields; Sawada's spirit was already hopelessly entangled in the Sakura's powerful grasp. Toshiro wouldn't meet his father in the other world or in his next life.
Seishiro crossed the busy street swiftly, disregarding the marked pedestrian crossing some twenty meters away. On the other side, a small shrine was wedged between two high rises, and he needed a quiet place for what was to come next. He'd used the Tree's power for magical purification before; he knew it was potent enough to bring him to his knees once he got started. And because Romiro's magic was so closely related to his own that disentangling it would be complicated, he'd have to begin soon, while the Tree's magical signature was flaring at full strength.
He sat down on a small bench and finally checked on his marks, making sure Subaru's rime shield was still in place. Immediately, he felt the contamination in his marks spilling over to him. He clenched his teeth; made sure that the Tree's power was at its peak, and dropped his shields.
The noise of a city train rattling past the back fence covered his scream of agony.
~:~:~:~:~
Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo
19:34
Heat was assaulting the ice on his skin. Spiritual flames licked along the thick rime that sizzled and steamed, evaporating faster and faster. The shield was fraying, its dreaded cold giving way to whatever it had kept from him, and now he was drenched in sweat. Subaru heard the Tree humming, saw in his mind's eye a trapped spirit being torn apart by greedy shoots. Petals lined in blood seemed to rain down his skin in wicked, tantalizing caresses, streaming in the rhythm of the screams, licentiously calling on him to follow them into their eternal night of pleasure and blood, where lust and death were relatives...
...and the Sakurazukamori's coldness wasn't cruelty...
...it was mercy.
A key clicked in the front door lock and he tensed, feeling his body, his spirit throb against his confinement as he struggled for composure. The rustle of a coat being hung up, the faint thud with which the leather shoes ended up on the shoe board, followed by the soft padding of socked feet on the stairs — Seishiro usually forwent slippers at home. Keys were put on the table with a metallic jingle.
"Tadaima."
Subaru didn't answer, clasping himself as he kept staring out the window at trees he had ceased to see hours ago, blinded by tears for a boy who had died without pain.
"Subaru-kun?"
He heard Seishiro come closer across the living room and closed his eyes, clinging to his anger.
"Release me," he demanded. He spoke flatly, tonelessly, because otherwise he'd surely be yelling now, or worse. "Why did you do this to me?"
"It was necessary," Seishiro returned casually, entirely too close for Subaru's comfort in his weakened state. "You don't know what you would have faced."
"You. Killing two people," Subaru stated evenly, finally turning, looking at him, catching the quickly veiled surprise in those amber eyes. "Marks can't be blocked. Your own words." He clenched his hands tightly around his elbows to keep from lashing out; lashing meant touching, touching meant— He laughed. A bitter sound in his own ears. "If a nightmare is all you can see, you're glad to see it."
"That's not—"
"I know that your Tree's tearing the spirits apart!" Subaru spat. "I've seen it. I've been there!" He dug his nails through the cloth of his shirt into his skin. "I know what you are, Sakurazukamori. Release me!"
He didn't flinch when Seishiro put a bloodstained fingertip to his cheek...
...and the flames closed around him. Subaru choked, coughing in the heat that ate the last fragments of ice and burned into his skin, consuming him. There were hands on his body— He pushed them away, panicked—
"Stop fighting or it'll kill you."
Ice enclosed the flames that sizzled and died where Seishiro touched him, brushing, stroking, removing clothes that were no protection at all.
No words. The breath in his mouth wasn't his own. It tasted of sex and sakura, blood and tobacco...
Running his hands, his arms under Seishiro's shirt, he chose the Sakurazukamori's chill against the heat, calming himself enough to finally sort through the magical chaos burning in him — his own, Seishiro's, the Sakura's — bound by the Vamachara relentlessly demanding its due.
A demand they couldn't deny. He kept his eyes closed, just feeling, smelling, tasting. His fingertips ghosted down Seishiro's skin, his abdomen, met the leather of his belt. He tugged at it. The buckle gave way; its pin pierced his thumb. Involuntarily, he raised it to his mouth, sucked at it. With a sharp motion, Seishiro completed the task below, raised him up, spreading him. Subaru slung his legs around him, gasping when his back hit the wall, and let Seishiro take him, slowly, methodically, the buckle of Seishiro's open belt cutting into his thighs.
He buried his face against Seishiro's neck when he climaxed seconds after Seishiro had come with a guttural sound of pain deep inside him.
They ended up on the floor when Seishiro couldn't support him any longer. Aching, Subaru leaned against the wall; Seishiro, framed by his legs, rested his head on his shoulder, breathing heavily. The unbuttoned shirt had slipped off. A deep, faintly red scar lay thick on the otherwise smooth, well-honed muscle; a dragon of torn flesh hissing across Seishiro's shoulder and down his back. Subaru shivered, tracing it. Seishiro would always be marked a Dragon of Earth. It had been an awful wound, inflicted not too long ago. And there were other scars — Subaru tugged at the sweat-soaked cloth of the shirt — flat, pale, barely more than silvery tint in the skin. He'd seen the Tree deal with Seishiro's injuries; these must be remnants of times when its power hadn't sufficed. How many more had there been? How often—?
Shaken, he pressed his lips to the marred flesh where the dragon scar curled over Seishiro's shoulder, slung his arms around him in the realization how often he'd been close to losing him, too, to—
"If you continue this, I give no guarantees for your health." Seishiro's calm voice sent a shiver down Subaru's spine. He tightened his grip involuntarily, holding him even closer, unwilling to let go. A tremor ran through the body in his arms; muscles, slick from sweat, tensed—
"But you like it—" Subaru whispered.
The next moment a hard arm across his larynx pinned him to the ground. A knee forced his legs apart. Pain tore through his body. Seishiro watched him out of impassive pale golden eyes as he drove into him with hard, deliberately grinding thrusts. Subaru choked, unable to scream. Suffocating, he clawed at the arm, the face—
He coughed violently, gasping for air, when the pressure was suddenly gone.
With cold precision Seishiro struck at his chest—
—and was stopped by a twig whose bark cut deep into his wrist. A second twig followed, pulling him back and up on his feet. A third lashed over his check with a sickening slap.
...No!...
Wide-eyed, panting, Subaru saw Seishiro stilling in the Sakura's grasp. Blood beaded from the streak on his cheek; his breaths were short, angry gasps as he stood utterly calm, waiting for the Sakura to release him.
Buds sprung from the twig holding Seishiro's wrist, burst into blossoms, greedily absorbing the blood it had drawn. A single tuft of flowers reached for his cheek, dabbing at the streak—
Seishiro's cold eyes stopped it. With a sharp twist, he freed his wrist from the suckling blossoms and left the room.
A rough, uncushioned twig curled sharply around Subaru's maltreated throat, pulling him halfway off the floor. A wave of disdain rushed over him, through him.
...Don't you dare do that again. Next time, I won't stop him, Second-source-of-the-Dao...
He fell hard against the wall when the Sakura was suddenly gone, leaving only its heavy scent and a few scattered petals. For a moment, Subaru just remained sitting where he was, trying to catch his breath, then he forced himself to stand. Wobbly, he clung to the wall as the room spun around him, fearing he would be sick. He felt raw. The hand he touched to the wetness between his legs came away bloody.
His marks were screaming at him. He couldn't raise his shields...
Seishiro was next door, on his bed, dead even to the flaring scars on his hands...
Aching and cold Subaru curled up beside him, not daring to touch him, but moving closer and closer until the glow on his hands faded in the dark.
to be continued in
Family Matters 07 - August Fires