The rough bark of the blossomless branch holding him rasped his skin, put pain into the pleasure. He didn't like it gentle. He liked to be reminded of the force, the pain that was always involved...
...in love or death... ...and the combination of both. Sap and blood, the ultimate lubricant. Branches wound around his shoulders and arms, twigs caressed his chest; a shoot entered the salivating mouth that gasped in the shuddering silenced heat. It loved to subdue him, hold him, have his strong, predatory body convulsing hot around a sap-coated root curling deep inside him. Gasps, mindless moans. Sprouts milking the seed from the body, forcing him to spill on its roots, for once vulnerable despite his powers. The scents of old blood and new, seed and sap, sakura and sweat overwhelmed the blossoms. Gasps. Heat. The final convulsion — and sinking limp into the hold of the branches. The Tree dabbed spilled seed and saliva from the unresponsive body, used a blossom-cushioned twig to clean him. He was sleeping, spent and totally the Sakura's in his submission. Petals whispered of sensations long gone. Yue... The Tree swayed, absorbed in its memories. It would never take Sei-chan. She had made sure of that. For a while it had seemed otherwise, but the Tree knew that he would never submit — not after that night. Yue had been strong, and willing to be weak sometimes. Seishiro would die before allowing himself to be weak even once. The Tree had flirted, dared with Sei-chan, but there was a point beyond which he would fight in earnest, with all the means he had — and some he hadn't. The Tree's branches shook in annoyance. It should have stopped her, should have reined her in that night; instead it had been in her mind, watching, observing. It should have... It hadn't. Seishiro hadn't broken, but he retained scars that were able to break him. That was why the Tree would always push, but not force. Not him. It had had enough broken Sakurazukamori over the years, thanks to the organization, the Mori, and what they considered appropriate mental conditioning. It needed a wake one, an inquisitive one; one able to understand and explain this new, rapidly changing world in which he was to bring in the prey. It wanted Sei-chan. Whole. With his quick wit and open mind and strange notions and the ruthless curiosity all other Sakurazukamori had lacked since the organization had seized control after the fall of the Tokugawa. If that meant it could touch but not take, so be it. Ueno-Sakuragi-cho, Tokyo March 30, 2000 Wind mourned in the trees outside; twigs and branches brushed against each other, filling the air with the scent of crushed green. Faint creaks told of the house cooling down in the night, but Subaru lay awake in the dark, the rhythm of his pounding heart repeating itself in his aching temples and the throbbing pain in his lower body. Seishiro was a silent shadow beside him. A shadow he took pains not to touch, yet couldn't part from either; the marks made sure of that. There was barely a whisper of breath, not even the silken bedclothes rustled... as if Seishiro tried to disappear while sleeping, exhausted from too long a day, strong magic, sex... ...and something Subaru failed to grasp, except that the Sakura had saved him from dying for it. Dying at Seishiro's hand... ...a chill ran through his aching body. How would it feel to be killed by Seishiro? he'd asked himself only hours ago and had almost found out. The scene replayed itself in his mind, again and again. Seishiro taking him in cold blood, strangely light pale golden eyes burning through him without seeing him, seeing instead... what? Subaru shivered and stared at the ceiling, obscured in the night. If he hadn't been still slick from the sex before... Bars of pale light wandered down the wall, becoming wider and brighter on their way towards the bed. The last quarter moon rose outside; its light fell through unshuttered blinds, rendering the sleeping man beside him in silvery plains and black shadows. Seishiro had gone out of his way to keep the Final Battle from being decided, had told him "Continue." And left. But leaving was not an option any longer, for either of them; the tingle of the scars on his hands reminded him clearly. And staying... Subaru swallowed. They were the sources of the Dao. If they turned against each other, what would happen? A decision of the Final Battle? A return to the previous state of events? The end of existence? Or would it have no effect at all? He had no idea and neither did Seishiro, or he wouldn't be here any more. But if Seishiro went after him again and nobody intervened... No, staying wasn't an option, either; not as long as he didn't know what had made Seishiro strike at him like that. And Seishiro was unlikely to answer any inquiries about it, at least not truthfully. If only he could just go and look— Go Within and look— Subaru froze. It wouldn't be consensual. It would be— His left hand closed into a tightly balled fist on the black silk cover of the bed. He had to know. His grandmother would be appalled by his violation of one of their most fundamental laws, but... she'd be horrified at his current condition anyway, lacking entirely the purity she considered essential for his work. Purity, chastity, cleanliness; spiritual, and otherwise. It should be impossible for him to work now, soiled and penetrated by Death — in the most literal sense. It wasn't. His nails dug into the skin of his palm. If Seishiro caught him, he would kill him... It didn't matter. He forced himself to sit up despite the pain that had made him suspect fresh blood between his legs. The coverlet pooled around his naked form as he slowly reached over, ran trembling fingertips along Seishiro's slightly stubbled jaw in the mere ghost of a touch. Concentrating, he closed his eyes... °°°Nobo. Akyasha. Kyarabaya. Onarikya. Maribori. Sowaka...°°° He felt the familiar thrill, the hush when he delved into another self, and yet it was different, more structured and warm. Was it because Seishiro was a master of the arts himself or because he was... Seishiro? Subaru opened his eyes. A forest surrounded him, thick and dark, with giant black trees piercing a sky obscured by the fog wavering among them. Cascades of color poured over their leaves. A single leaf — colored purple, silver, and midnight blue — fluttered down to him. It cut through his skin, lining its edge with crimson. More leaves fell and Subaru leaped back, soon found himself dancing to avoid them. The fog lowered, became thicker, hiding ever more of the falling leaves before they made contact... He was already covered in shallow cuts. Blood beaded on his skin in a vibrant red. Illusion. Protection. Brilliant. Sparkling. Seemingly infinite — and deadly. As deadly as— He threw his arm up barely in time to protect his eyes, earning himself a deep bleeding cut across the forearm. Heavy wings beat the air over his head. A raptor screeched, black talons settling across the gash in his arm. Subaru staggered under the weight of the bird. A second scream almost deafened him and he found himself looking into unreadable golden eyes disconcertingly close to his face. Seishiro's shikigami. Watching him, assessing, judging... Just how much independence did Seishiro grant his helper spirit here? Subaru swallowed, knowing he could bring down the raptor, also knowing that he'd cripple Seishiro's abilities forever if— The fall of the deadly leaves had stopped. With a piercing scream the large predator leaped free from his arm, sailed in a wide circle around him and vanished between the trees. Subaru chased after it. He was out of breath when the shikigami finally settled on a tree overhanging a steep valley. Cautiously, Subaru came closer. The hawk paid him no heed as it stared down into the shadows. Wind ruffled its feathers and the sharp leaves of the tree it perched on. The black bark of the tree was rough under Subaru's palm when he peered over the edge... ...and found himself face to face with a boy in a featureless dark space. Wide, golden eyes over a snub nose looking at him as assessingly as the shikigami. The child was probably three years old, the face under the unruly, slightly wavy hair still childishly round. A plaster stuck on his scraped left knee. The boy stretched an arm out, pointed wordlessly on into the darkness... ...where torches stuck in the snow-covered ground, drawing a wide circle of silent, dark-clad figures out of the night. Shikigami perched on their shoulders: some large, others small, round, or skinny with leathery or sharp-feathered wings; all of them predators. A woman stood in their center. She was dainty, of a classical Japanese beauty, wearing a plain black silk kimono with only a single blood-red pentagram embroidered over her heart. Red shadows ran over the cloth and her smooth black hair that fell down to her hips, scandalously open for the night wind to play in. An owl perched on her shoulder. With its large eyes closed against the glare of the torches, it was a plump ball of fluffed feathers half-hidden in her hair. Subaru slowly went closer, watching carefully. The snow crunched under his feet. Tiny ice crystals danced in the air, glittering in the cold silver light of a full moon. A child, older than the boy before, stood in front of the woman, stripped down to a loin cloth despite the icy wind that blew his wavy hair into his face and called sparks from the torches. The dark stares of the group rested on his lean form. The shikigami on their shoulders moved restlessly, anticipating, hungry... The boy's skin looked golden in the unsteady light of the flickering torches: golden and wet. "Call your shikigami," the woman ordered. Her voice rang out into the night, the flames of the torches rippling from it. "Call your own or become prey for the others!" The feathers of countless wings rustled; the call of a crow echoed through the winter night, hastily silenced by its master — a youth Subaru judged to be sixteen, tall like Seishiro had been under the Sakura all those years ago, but lacking his lithe elegance; there was no mistake about the distaste with which his grey eyes looked on... Seishiro's inauguration. Seishiro, whose golden eyes rested unwaveringly on the woman, his mistress of ceremony, his— "Okaa-san." Seishiro's three-year-old self said next to Subaru, beaming up at him with a happy smile. "She told me, when I'll be nine." Subaru involuntarily returned the smile. A fierce flash of raw power washed over them. Instinctively, he moved to protect the child and the boy hopped away from him into the glare, laughing at him in childish mockery for forgetting that this was Within, where the boy belonged and he didn't. Subaru turned his attention back to the memory, found the eyes of the assembly resting on the tall raptor that flapped its wings in front of Seishiro, waiting to be acknowledged. Seishiro, who looked at his mother. For guidance? Or approval? Instead, he got— "Inappropriate!" A flash of her power scattered the essence of the hawk-shikigami. "You cannot keep what you can't hold!" The child in front of her trembled. The assembly surrounding him shuffled restlessly. The dark predatory shadows of their birds of war focused on his small form. If he stumbled, if he failed, they'd tear him to pieces. "Try anew!" she commanded. "Make it right!" The full moon reflected in Seishiro's eyes, turning their deep gold to pale silver for a breath, while he gathered himself up, forced shaky legs to straighten, focused, stretched out his hand— The flash of power nearly blinded Subaru. This shikigami spread even taller wings; its call was deeper, fiercer. The boy who'd called it was hardly a match for it. "No, don't—" Subaru warned, but this was a memory, impossible to be changed. Worried, he saw young Seishiro raising his arm, making a fist and calling the bird to his blood. The shikigami settled immediately on his skinny wrist, driving black talons down to his bones, tying a lifelong bond as it fed. Subaru saw nine-year-old Seishiro suddenly stumbling, falling into churned, blood-splattered snow. Nobody caught him, but the shikigami's strong wings broke the fall in the last moment. Nobody averted the sakanagi that resulted from calling two powerful shikigami to his side and binding the second one to himself. Shocked, Subaru realized that surviving was another test. If Seishiro failed he wasn't worth the effort of help; if he prevailed, he didn't need it. The world went dark.... ...dark. Darkness, filled with the beating of strong wings, the swishing of countless feathers. Voices arose out of the flutter. Male voices. There were no faces connected to the memory of them... "What kind of bird is it, anyway?" "A hawk. Rather large for the species and vicious." There was a brief pause. "He's by far the most promising of the aspirants, if he survives the backlash." "Romiro won't like that." A wry snort. "The hawk and the crow don't get along well?" "No. We might have to make a choice early." "Difficult. If he makes it, he'll be the most powerful Sakurazukamori we've had in ages." "And probably impossible to control. Romiro's a safer choice." "Safe, yes. But will he suffice?" "He's older. He will win their fight." "Now. But not in a few years." "And he knows that. At least after today." "True. We have to separate them. I'll take Seishiro with me to Tokyo. She can take care of him. You'll keep Romiro here in Kanazawa." "For the time being. If Seishiro stays as unruly as he is—" "—we will eliminate him in time. In his case, we have thirteen years left until he reaches the age of succession..." Darkness. The hush of feathers now felt comforting... ...another night, years later. The room was unlit, but the garden outside was bathed in moonlight. A soft breeze moved the leaves and flowers on countless plants, artfully arranged and meticulously maintained. The faint tapping of a deerchaser gave rhythm to the whispers of the night. The disk of another full moon reflected in its small pond. Tatami mats rustled faintly under Subaru's feet as he stepped closer. Silvery moonlight fell through the open shoji onto a futon rolled out on the floor. The youth sleeping there with his hair tousled by the headrest was barely a teen. Cicadas chirped outside; a few fireflies danced around the deerchaser... A choked sniff had Subaru turn. Seishiro's three-year-old-self was hiding behind him, wiping angrily at his running nose with the back of his hand. His tiny fist cramped in the cloth of Subaru's pants and he tugged viciously. Tears ran over his cheeks as he tried to muffle a frightened sob. "I'm afraid," the child whispered, scared. "I can't—" A sob. "Onii-chan, don't allow her to— to—" Helpless, Subaru saw the child vanishing, dissolving in a whirl of dust motes quickly scattering in the pale light. The overwhelming scent of camellia filled the room. Behind him the futon rustled. A quiet voice whispered endearments. The woman — "okaa-san" — knelt on the futon and removed the thin layer of cotton, touching the startled youth, preventing his escape with deceptively soft caresses... "Keep yourself shielded..." she purred. "Or you'll—" He struck, swift, hard, as he'd doubtlessly been taught. And she dipped her finger into the blood trickling over her cheek, licking at it, painting his lips with it. Seishiro's tongue involuntarily flicked across the wetness. "And, is my blood as sweet as yours?" she asked, her blood-stained hand going to his groin. A faint whimper. A protest. "Stopping?" she whispered as she touched him, straddled him, forced his inexperienced body to obey, using magic to hold him down, to subdue him. A magic strengthened by years of practice the youth under her couldn't possibly match. "But you like it—" Subaru, caught in the memory, froze. His wanted to avert his eyes, to give privacy where he couldn't help, but he was bound, unable to look away, to— He witnessed Seishiro's shock and his troubled uncertainty the next morning, when at waking-up he found himself nude and his mother smiling at him in amusement, her face unharmed, unmarked... Subaru's nails dug into his palm. He just knew that no comfort had come. Seishiro had been alone with it. And managed. Somehow. Other encounters followed in seemingly quick succession. Subaru watched Seishiro learn to accommodate, to reduce the hurt by taking the initiative and becoming the perpetrator, dominating the situation he couldn't avoid, until at fifteen he embraced his mother and took her last breath into his mouth... ...with a lover's kiss, covering himself with her blood. Subaru trembled. The following years were a tumble of events: struggling for scholarships as a ward of the state, to avoid becoming dependent on the Mori again. Finding his path in a society he'd been merely allowed to watch and imitate before. His enthusiasm for trying new things, meeting new challenges — like acrylic painting, resulting in a familiar picture and trouble in school for blue hair — and the curiosity that took him through high school and into university— Subaru's head hurt. Dimly, he realized that he should have extricated himself from Seishiro's mind hours ago. He felt dizzy, disoriented; his knees buckled; the ache in his physical body now reached him even Within. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the mantra... ...and blinked in the first light of dawn. Hours... he'd spent hours Within. His head was incredibly heavy. His eyes were closing. No, he mustn't... Seishiro's cheek was warm against his palm, solid. Subaru blinked, saw the child's face in the man's, the tormented teen and the cheeky little boy... Seishiro turned in his sleep and trapped Subaru's hand, pressing his stubbled cheek deeper into his palm with a contented sigh. Subaru's heart was racing. He was so tired... Seishiro was so warm against his skin... It hurt... ~:~:~:~:~ 08:32 Seishiro woke suddenly, from one moment to the next. Somebody was lying behind him, an arm draped across his chest, fingertips tingling against his collarbone. Someone... was hugging him. He remained utterly still. Quiet breaths fanned against his shoulder blade. Someone... alive. He tensed, rolled out of bed, turned and found— Subaru, shivering, lying naked next to where Seishiro had been just a moment before, the second cover a tangled mass around his feet. The bruises and scrapes along his spine had become a colorful display overnight. Subaru had taken the brunt of yesterday's storm — in more ways than one. There was blood, smeared and dried between his legs, and a broad stripe of already black bruises across his throat, just below the finger marks remaining from the Vamachara. Gradually, Seishiro's pulse slowed. A sharp pain burned around his right wrist; a thin line of scab circled it where the Sakura had broken his strike. The scars on the back of his hands itched; Subaru must have lost control over his marks last night. Though the red shades around the pentagram scars on Subaru's hands worried him more: his own shielding had been lacking as well. A disconcerting thought. With an annoyed sigh he pulled the cover up over Subaru and headed straight for the bath to scrub the stale odor of sex, sweat and blood off his skin. He knew he'd notice the smell for hours. The soap burned in the deep scratches on his arm. This time, Subaru had fought for his life. He ground his teeth, working the foam into his hair. Damn. It had been years since he felt like this. ~:~:~:~:~ 10:01 Subaru was lying on his belly, his face buried comfortably in the smooth cloth of a pillow when he woke. It was warm, smelling of... Seishiro. Right now, nothing hurt, but he had a strong feeling that might change when he tried to move. The marks tingled faintly. Seishiro wasn't beside him. Subaru turned onto his back, stubbornly ignoring the pain, and stared at the ceiling. Seishiro. Seishiro's mother. He shuddered. He'd been prepared for her death by her son's hand. He hadn't been prepared for his urge to kill her himself. He raised his hands in front of his eyes, saw dried blood under his nails... Her son's, not hers. He buried his face in his hands. Hands smelling of blood again, blood not his own, and Seishiro. Seishiro had snuggled his cheek into his palm, craving touch, comfort, taking control. Running his hands up into his hair, Subaru stared at the ceiling. This turmoil was the reason why he wasn't supposed to have a special person. His back ached where he'd hit the wall yesterday. And lower... He drew a deep breath and sat up to get out of bed. There was a little blood on the sheet where he'd lain, and his body protested at moving. He ignored it. A note was pinned to the other pillow: "Soak." It seemed to be reasonable advice. Subaru rinsed himself a second time with warm water before he poured shampoo into his palm and began working the dark amber gel into his hair. A faint scent of sandalwood filled the room. Involuntarily, he breathed deeper. He closed the tap when the scent weakened and the last suds had found the drain. The glass lid of the tub was closed and steamed up. He removed it and winced at the pain between his legs when he climbed in. Easing himself into the hot water, he allowed his sore muscles to relax in the heat and his thoughts to wander... "Onii-chan, don't allow her to—" Frustrated, Subaru rested his head on the edge of the tub. He couldn't stop her... it was much too late... and again he saw Seishiro's innocent three-year-old self dissolving into dust. "Onii-chan, don't allow her—" "But you like it..." There had been no tears, no crying. "She can take care of him." "If Seishiro stays as unruly as he is—" "—we will eliminate him in time." Yet, it had been Seishiro who held him, Seishiro who told him that it was all right to cry over lost innocence. Now he wondered how much that comment had cost Seishiro even as one of his lies during the bet. Come to think of it... Why had Seishiro made the bet in the first place? And what about that little game he'd witnessed between Seishiro and Imonoyama back at the mansion? Imonoyama wasn't stupid — he was one of the most intelligent people Subaru knew. Seishiro had to know that it was impossible for Imonoyama not to have concluded who and what Seishiro was. And yet... If he had understood Imonoyama right, they'd been playing their game of hypothetical truths and faked lies since they were in school. A game that could turn deadly if they made a mistake that forced Seishiro to abandon pretense. But as long as they were playing, they could keep their friendship. By playing friendship like a game, Seishiro turned it into something he knew how to handle. By making a bet about— "Why don't you fight back?" Seishiro had asked. A seemingly innocuous question coming directly after a physical assault that had left Subaru with broken ribs and a shattered arm. Competitive, Imonoyama had called him. "I wonder how my powers compare to yours... It appears I have won this bet... Why don't you fight back?" Subaru sat up, almost splashing hot water over the edge of the tub. Without even recognizing it, Seishiro had offered to go further, in the only way he knew: competition. But Subaru had been a naive boy with an innocent concept of love back then, and unable to follow. "Why don't you fight back?" "But you like it..." Subaru wondered if he'd be able to follow now. If he was able to play this new game — probably deadly — which for once wasn't about what the boy wanted but what Seishiro... ...needed? ~:~:~:~:~ 11:39 Breakfast was a silent — and late — affair for Seishiro. The case he'd terminated yesterday called for an interest in today's news, but his headache was strong enough for him to decide against the radio. The two painkillers he'd had with his morning coffee hadn't done any good. He felt as he had in his youth after somebody had tried to read him by force. But he didn't feel sick... The Tree whispered in the back of his mind and he forcefully shut it out. He would not contact it about his headache. He snorted and touched the line of scab across his cheek. Definitely not. He turned his nearly empty coffee mug in his hands, trailing a finger around its two orange penguin feet. It should have an ice floe for a saucer, he thought distractedly, it could waddle across it. He emptied the last drops of cooled coffee into the sink and refilled his mug. Subaru came into the kitchen and eased himself onto one of the chairs without making his usual tea first. Seishiro judged his cautious, restrained movements carefully and put his mug down. It didn't look as if he could leave things as they were. He headed for his medicine cabinet. "Here." Seishiro placed a small tube of salve on the table in front of Subaru. "Reduces the risk of infection and numbs the area." "Why...?" "The Vamachara covered the first, but not the second. Be careful for a few days." "I can't." Subaru sighed, resting his elbows on the table without even looking at the breakfast set out for him. "I'm expected at the National Diet Building for an exorcism. Actually, I was supposed to do it yesterday." He leaned his face against his hands. "It would be irresponsible to postpone it for another day... or more." Seishiro pulled a chair over and sat down. "The specter's that aggressive?" "It's the government. The main house won't let me neglect this case." Subaru drew a deep breath and gathered himself up, taking the salve. "Excuse me. I've got to prepare myself." Seishiro watched him leave the room. He noted the slight limp and the untouched food on the table. He'd have to do something about that assignment. Subaru wouldn't like that, but then... Seishiro smiled, amused. Subaru had told him to excuse him, hadn't he? ~:~:~:~:~ 12:02 The water hit his shoulders and flowed down his back as he rinsed himself a second and third time. Subaru forced himself not to wince when his sore muscles contracted at the cold. For the first time, he seriously wished the ritual of harae allowed the use of warm water. Startled at the thought, he bowed low in apology and, ignoring his protesting back, rinsed himself a fourth time before reciting the norito. Finishing, he clapped his hands three times and stood, reaching for the towel he'd put on the shelf. His tumbler cluttered to the tiles. "Do you need help?" Seishiro called, obnoxiously cheerful, from outside. "No!" Subaru snapped, gritting his teeth as he collected the dropped tumbler from the floor. He hadn't locked the door. It wasn't as if locks could stop Seishiro anyway. So why bother? But he still kept a wary eye on the door while toweling himself. He sighed and looked thoughtfully at the small tube of salve. Seishiro's way of apologizing. Probably. Subaru tied the sash and studied his reflection in the mirror assessingly, running his fingertips over the black marks visible on his throat well above the yukata's collar. He'd better wear a high-necked sweater today or there would be questions he did not want to answer... "Yes, I'll be waiting." Seishiro was speaking on the phone when Subaru returned from the bathroom. The exorcism was likely going to be tough, since the specter seemed to change shape at will. Subaru wished he could go for ceremonial robes. At least, it would spare him the tight pants. Unfortunately, a shikifuku wouldn't cover his throat and with a turtleneck underneath... his grandmother would have the rest of his hide if he appeared in such an attire at the National Diet. He opened the closet where his clothes had found a place. "Yes, put him on the line please." Unfolding the sweater, Subaru wondered if it weren't better to change elsewhere. He didn't want to disturb Seishiro's call — or show off his bruises. "Deputy Ishido?" The turtleneck fell from Subaru's hand. "I'm calling on behalf of Sumeragi Subaru. We'd like to conduct the planned exorcism today at—" Seishiro smoothly blocked his desperate reach for the phone. "A mourning ceremony? No, I'm sorry. Our schedule didn't allow us to catch the morning news today." Subaru straightened defiantly under the hard stare with which Seishiro assessed his condition, obviously not pleased with what he saw. "Representative Sawada? Oh my... Yes. Yes, I see. In that case an exorcism is out of the question within the next three days, because the soul might still be lingering around his favorite places." Subaru tried to reach for the phone again. Seishiro ignored him. "No, I fear that's not possible. There's the matsuri and the purification ritual..." He mumbled something even Subaru next to him couldn't understand. "How about next week? Yes... Splendid! I'll book you for Monday, April 3rd, 10:15.... Sayonara, Ishido-san." Seishiro threw the receiver onto the hold. "How did you end up in a condition like this!?" "You should know all about it, " Subaru returned angrily. "How dare you interfere with my work!?" "We both know that you aren't up to it. What on earth were you doing in the bath?" "Purification. You know I require it before a job," Subaru shot back. "And I'm sure even you know how it's properly done!" "The rites date back to the 8th century. Don't you think there have been certain innovations since then — like warm water for example?" "I won't take risks when I know I haven't abstained from impurity!" "There's a fine line between religious austerity and self-torture!" "Yes. And I draw it somewhere else than you!" Seeing Seishiro narrow his eyes at his outburst, Subaru clamped down on his temper. "I accept impurity," he explained with forced calm. "I embrace it. Sometimes I even seek it. I shouldn't, but I do—" —with you. "But I cannot ignore it when it puts others in danger." Seishiro snorted. "Impurity doesn't connect with you. Accept it." And Subaru understood. They'd been both blinded. "Kind and pure and honest..." Seishiro had called him when making the bet. "You're too kind," were his words at Rainbow Bridge. "Why don't you fight back?" Now. Or never. "I'm as pure or impure as any other human being prior purification," he said. "Don't you see that?" He reached up, touched the scratch the Sakura had left on Seishiro's cheek the night before. Seishiro immediately broke the contact. "Can't you see?" Subaru pressed quietly. "You never saw me. You were like me, you saw the boy like I saw the veterinarian, who never existed..." No, that wasn't quite right... "—who never existed alone." "It's dangerous to delude yourself, Subaru-kun." There was a distinct warning in Seishiro's tone. Subaru ignored it. "There is something of him in you," he insisted. "Your education, your curiosity—" He raised his hand to keep Seishiro from cutting in. "But you're much more, much darker than that — just like me. I'm not the innocent boy I was when you marked me as your prey, Sakurazukamori." Seishiro arched a brow towards the still rumpled bed. "Innocent is not a word I would use for you anymore." The familiar play for control was easy to handle. "That's part of it," Subaru concurred, cupping Seishiro's cheek, careful not to restrict his ability to move. Seishiro immediately caught his wrist in a tight grasp, but Subaru had expected as much. He brushed his thumb slowly over Seishiro's sensuous lips. "And that's good." ~:~:~:~:~ 17:46 Seishiro studied the small slip of paper warily, but found no spell attached to it. It was really just what it looked like: a small, yellow sheet stuck under the honey jar on the kitchen table. In Subaru's overly neat handwriting it said: ~I changed the sheets. You do the laundry.~ to be continued in Family Matters - Interregnum 3 Notes: °°°Nobo. Akyasha. Kyarabaya. Onarikya. Maribori. Sowaka...°°° taken from X-9 p 50-51