Darkness Bind Them:
Chapter One: In Which Conversations are Uncomfortable
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem to find myself again
My walls are closing in
Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced
That there's just too much pressure to take
-Linkin Park: Crawling
******
Anubisu was dreaming.
He recognized the sensation. There was a peculiar sense to it, one which
always returned no matter how often he slipped into this trancelike state. It was neither
welcome nor reviled. At least, not while he was still sleeping. While dreaming, though,
he was passive. He couldn't touch or change anything which he saw.
After all, it was impossible to change the events of another person's dream.
There was a soft wind on his face and Anubisu opened his eyes to see a
familiar corridor. Dark green light lit the paper walls. The floor was some hardwood,
dark as sin in the bad lighting. Nothing unusual. He'd seen this particular walkway
many, many times. It seemed to be a traditional dojo, wooden floors and sliding paper
walls making him feel vaguely self conscious about his sandal clad feet. He repressed
the desire to shuck them, and concentrated instead on the sudden start of sound.
There were voices in the next room, a multitude of them in varying shades and
pitches. Each sounded smug. It didn't take much for Anubisu to decide that he rather
disliked those voices.
Frowning, he made his way towards the nearest sliding panel. His feet made
no sound, another disconcerting change from reality. They should have thumped loudly
with each step. He was not walking carefully.
When he reached the door he paused, listening. The voices were still
speaking, but the words were yet indistinct; he couldn't make them out. The tone of
them was more wheedling now, threatening and begging in the same breath. He could
almost hear another voice, different from the multitude, shouting something that
drowned beneath the myriad voices that rose against it.
That other voice sounded familiar, but it was distorted and he couldn't tell who
it belonged to. One hand crept up of its own violation, catching at the door frame. It
was rough under his fingers, an odd contrast to the smooth look of the wood grain. He
pushed against it, but it didn't open. Instead his fingers slipped through it, and he
stepped through the closed door. It was no more substantial than smoke, but he didn't
think about this.
The voices had stopped.
Anubisu peered in, eyes automatically adjusting to the even greater darkness
of that room. It was the same wooden floor, same dark shadows, but the entirety of the
place was covered with grime and ichor, blood and entrails covering the walls and
staining the white paper. There was no scent to the bloody destruction, but the sight
was more than enough to turn his stomach. It felt somehow colder in that room as well,
the temperature dropping several degrees as he walked out of the plain room he had
arrived in.
/I am somewhere within the mansion. Please come and save me. /
Anubisu blinked at the sound. There was no one else in the room, of that he
was entirely certain, and that voice hadn't sounded particularly desperate. If anything it
was smug, as though it knew his decision had already been made. Anubisu didn't like it.
/Don the armor and save me. /
He started. The hell was that about? The yoroi? How did they even know
about it, and who was this anyway?
His frown growing deeper, Anubisu stalked forward, determined to find the
source of the voice and to shake some answers out of it.
There was a gasp but it didn't come from him. He stilled a moment, listening
for the source. It came again, louder, with the clang that announced metal cracking
against metal, followed by a dull thump that could only be flesh striking - or being
struck. It was coming from the next room. He shot towards it, ran through the paper
paneling, to see-
A figure stood in the middle of the room, the shadows draining all color and
features. He was clutching a long sword in both hands, hair slicked back with sweat or
blood, Anubisu couldn't tell which. Anubisu started and stared harder at the figure. Was
that undergear?
It was, though the color of it was impossible to tell with deep fog that seemed
to surround the place. The boy, for it was a boy, seemingly young if the shape of his
body was any indication, looked dreadfully familiar, but whether this was Rekka or Doku
or one of the others, he couldn't tell. Anubisu couldn't see face or features. They were
shrouded somehow, fogged from his sight, and his hair fell forward over them, further
helping to disguise his face. The grey-green light turned skin and hair and shadow the
same dingy color. Only the paleness of the yoroi stood out, white in the darkness.
Something about the way he moved, however, shot a tingle of recognition through
Anubisu, and without even thinking the name, he found his subconscious thought
confirmed. He knew this boy, knew him far too well-
"Hwoa!"
The figure hefted his sword and raced towards an eight legged monstrosity
which clicked mandibles at them both and skittered along the far wall, up it, and leaped
off in a perfect jump that seemed to allow it to land straight on the boy. He would have
none of that, it seemed. He turned easily, wielding a blade longer than he was tall and
making it appear as light as a bokken in his hands. He swung upwards, the sword the
same silver glitter as fish scales underwater. It sang through the air, slicing the creature
in two, both parts turning to a swirling dark smoke as Anubisu watched. He took a step
forward, determined to confirm or deny his suspicions, only to have that featureless face
turn towards the movement.
The boy seemed surprised to see him, but his resolve was soon gained back.
His armor clad feet were silent as he ran forward, and Anubisu wondered just how the
boy had seen him, given that he'd not been able to affect anything else in this strange
dream. Then there wasn't time to think because the boy had reached him, had leapt
upwards, high above, and the sword swung down in a breathtaking arc, two handed over
his head and down again. Unable to move, Anubisu watched wide-eyed as it fell straight
through him, cleaving this dream self in half.
The grey vision fractured, splintering into shards of broken glass. As they fell
away into darkness, the featureless face fell into place, and a pair of horrified violet eyes
met his own. Anubisu thought that he might have shouted, straining towards that face,
but it swirled away and then was gone.
****
"He'll be upset when he wakes up."
"He can deal."
There was a sharp poke to the top of his head.
"Maybe you should be more careful. You know how grumpy he is first thing in
the morning."
It was followed by a pull on his hair.
"It's not morning." The voice sounded perfectly reasonable and justified.
"Besides, he should know better than to fall asleep during a meeting."
"Still," The first tone was still somewhat worried.
"Besides," Another sharp yank, a feeling of hair being twisted, and then
another section lifted from his scalp. "You can't not think it's funny."
"That's only because it is."
"Kayura-chan thinks so, ne?"
"Hai!" Entirely too perky, the third voice was. Anubisu had the sudden desire
to smack the source of it, but a vague suspicion of that being an extremely lousy idea
held him back.
"Too bad we don't have a mortal whassitcalled, picture taker, you know-"
"Camera?"
Another pull and twist. Anubisu raised a hand to smack at the offending hair
snatcher.
"Exactly. Oi, he's waking up!"
Eyes still tightly screwed shut, Anubisu groaned. His head hurt entirely too
much to deal with this at the moment.
"Rather wishing that I'm not," he muttered, pushing his face further into his
folded arms.
"You might be, especially after you look in a mirror." The first voice melted
into a recognizable tone. Naaza. A snicker answered him from somewhere to Anubisu's
right.
"What?" He lifted his head enough to peer upwards over his hands. The
headache which had previously retreated for a nice, enjoyable rest, returned to action
and, seemingly feeling guilty for having abandoned him for the past while, set up
clanging cymbals between his ears and poking at his eyes from the inside out. Anubisu
moaned and let his head fall back again, clutching his fingers through his hair. They
brushed against a smoothly twisted bit, and he tactically examined it, confused
somewhat at its presence.
"The hell...?" he murmured, fingering it. There was a sputter of laughter from
Rajura.
"Ano, Anubisu," Kayura said. She sounded like she was smothering laughter
with each word. "I think that you should get some rest. You don't look like you are
feeling all that well at the moment."
He chose not to dignify that with a response. His headache chose to abandon
the cymbals and move on to firing canons.
"Yare, yare," he said, managing somehow to push up from the low table and
regain his feet. He had the sudden embarrassing thought that there was quite likely a
large red print on his cheek from the rough fabric of his shirt. He rubbed at it, felt the
impression of linen, frowned, and forgot about it. The others could deal.
Naaza, Rajura, and Kayura watched him, the later two somewhat expectantly,
the former somewhat nervously. He glared at them. Kayura giggled, which caused
Anubisu to scowl. Giggles were not the proper response to a Yami glare. Ignoring this,
he stepped carefully away from his seat and moved on to the door, stepping through and
slowly making his way back to his chambers. Somehow he didn't have the energy to
teleport at the moment.
He yawned as he meandered away from their war room, Arago's former
chamber. There had been a meeting, he remembered that much but damned if he knew
any of the details from it. No, he'd been dreaming again. The same dreams which had
haunted him for over three weeks now, much as he disliked thinking about it.
The trip back to his rooms was rather unremarkable. Several of the underlings
skittered out of his way as he trod, heavy footed, down the several halls and flights of
stairs back to his quarters. They received several venomous looks as well, but most
seemed somewhat dumbstruck and not adequately cowed as they should have been. He
hoped rather that his face wasn't still red.
The answer to this was discovered not long after he'd reached his quarters.
Staring in the body length mirror that Kayura had discovered in the mortal world,
Anubisu groaned. He tentatively reached a hand up to pull at one of the many /many/
little twists and braids that decorated his scalp, each tied off with a pretty ribbon of
varying colors and hues.
Death, he decided, wrenching out one after another of the ties. Death to
Rajura. And to Kayura too, those ribbons had to have come from somewhere. Painful,
horrible death, probably involving Yamiken stuck in various painful, horrible places.
He paused a moment as a thought occurred to him. The youjai had been
staring as he made his way back from the conference room...
"Fuck," he muttered. Death was too good for them. He would have to think of
some suitable revenge, terrible and complete and agonizing. But not just at that
moment. Not with his head hurting this much, more so now that he'd been tugging at
his hair.
Finally managing to get the last of the bows out, he collapsed onto his bed, not
even bothering to shuck his clothes. Sleep. That was what was needed. He closed his
eyes, relaxing back into the darkness of the room.
A pale face stared at him, eyes dark and accusing and horrified.
Anubisu snapped his eyes open, breathing hard.
There was no one in the room of course, but damn if that _feeling_ wasn't
staying with him, that sense of fright and pain and grim determination which he'd felt
before, all too clearly. A distant feeling coursed over him, as though someone had
turned his own Koku rou Ken Ankoku Cho Uhigiri against him. It was faint, but his limbs
ached as it passed. For a moment, his heart beat in the rhythm of another, and his lungs
gasped, trying to follow that other's erratic pattern. The dark room blurred and became
a hazy forest, trees black slashes against a grey sky.
Then it was over. The forest vanished, the pain disappeared with the same
accelerity as it had overtaken him, the sense that another was in control regretfully
faded, lingering for a moment in his mind.
More unnerved then he would like to admit, Anubisu stared up at his dark
ceiling.
Groaning, he thrust a hand over his own eyes, blocking the dim room with a
self imposed darkness that somehow made it easier to think. At least when the feelings
had vanished, his headache had gone with them.
He knew that face. He knew those eyes. And as much as he hated to
remember, he knew the feel of that mind. The bond was supposed to be dormant, if not
dead. He'd tried as hard as he could to close it after their parting and it had been over a
year since last active, but he still remembered.
Shaking his head slightly, he wondered aloud:
"Kourin, what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?"
There was no answer, but he hadn't particularly expected one. He was not
used to having them gift wrapped and handed to him, particularly in regards to the
bearer of his yoroi's twin.
Anubisu groaned and rolled onto a side. He twined the fingers of one hand
through his newly freed hair and pulled on it.
Weeks now, this had been happening. Weeks of closing his eyes and opening
them to see that damned dojo or the dark forest, weeks of subdued lighting flickering
through his body, weeks of feeling secondhand what he shouldn't be feeling at all.
It was getting worse. Anubisu pressed his face into his free arm. It had been
the merest of sensations to start off with, and had only progressed into full visions
recently. He hadn't even been certain where he was getting them from at first. Now the
knowledge seemed to beat at him, and he pushed himself onto his back once more,
throwing an arm over his face.
/Fine, / he thought irritably. / Fine. I _get it_. /
Not for the first time, he cursed the bond that bound his spirit to Kourin no
Seiji's. It was an impossible task to close it completely, a fact which he should know
given how hard he'd tried to kill it.
Still mentally grumbling, Anubisu let his mind sink again. It was entirely too
easy to locate the thread that connected them, and easier still to follow it back again. He
waited a moment, felt his surroundings shift and alter as his mind entered into that of
the other.
When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at trees.
****
Pain. It snaked upwards from his calves, striking through his body like
lightning.
The forest seemed to call out to him, whispering his name as he ran through
it. Monsters crept along the pine needle strewn ground, slithering and sneaking, their
claws and mandibles clicking audibly. He swallowed listening to it, hearing them and /
that voice/ still calling out for his aid.
It was twilight, or so he thought. Twilight, because the light was grey and
pale, a weak thing that shuddered and failed as night approached. It was never dawn
here. He would not be granted the hope inspiring aid of coming light.
His feet slapped the ground and sent jarring thuds up his legs. They ached
from it, not yet numb, but he didn't stop. There were creatures in the shadow which he
did not want to face; he didn't think he had the strength to do so again. Not here. Not
like this.
Easier to run. Easier to forget honor for the moment, taking flight and comfort
in the better part of valor. He hated himself for it. He should be fighting these
creatures, should be forcing _them_ to flee, but he'd already fought for so long and he
was so tired... He didn't think he could manage it just then. And if they found him ... and
if he couldn't fight them off...
He shuddered to think about it.
He'd been lucky this far. He'd have to be lucky a bit longer if he wanted to
survive this. Oh god, oh god, he had to survive this. The others needed him to. He
wasn't exactly certain what would happen if he didn't escape the monsters, but he knew
that the effects of it would be devastating. Something inside him whispered this,
breaking the spell _that voice_ tried to weave, splintering its control and allowing him to
continue moving.
He blinked and found himself on the ground, hands pressed into the loam and
his no datchi shining dully at his right. The rasping sound of his own breathing filled his
ears. How long had he been kneeling there? He didn't know. An open target, he
thought with disgust, reaching with a hand that shook ever so lightly for his sword. For
just a moment he continued to sit, shifting his position so that he was kneeling.
He tilted the no datchi so that he could lean on it. The long edge was covered
in dirt and ichor, and had he been in his usual state of mind he would have been
disgusted at his own lack of respect for the blade. It bore his weight silently. Had he
expected otherwise?
His mind scattered at the thought, and he wondered uneasily what he had just
been doing. It was impossible to tell. All he could remember of this place was the
battle, then running.
Soft pale pink fell across his face and he blinked upwards. Sakura rained down
and he flinched from it. Not a good sign, it was never a good sign-
A clattering behind him. Something thick and bloated and slimy moved
towards him, amazingly fast for something of its bulk, and he barely managed to get
himself up and the no datchi in position in time for it to impale itself on Kourinken's long
blade. It howled at him, trying to move up towards him despite the sword sticking
through its midsection and Seiji yelled, spinning so that it was thrown off before it
managed to squirm up the blade to touch him.
Not the best of moves. It wasn't dead and the gaping wound merely began to
close off, leaving no trace of it, and worse, no trace of weakness. It twitched forward
even as it healed, and Seiji turned to run again, not certain if he could defeat it at the
moment.
He bounced back, falling to the ground as a previously unseen tan wall made
its presence known.
Seiji blinked up at it. Not a wall at all, but a yoroi. He gasped at the sight of it,
and more specifically, at it's bearer.
The dark haired man currently frowning at him was not exactly a figure Seiji
would have thought of as a savior. Quite the opposite, really, especially given their last
encounter. He tried to shove that thought away, not wanting to deal with it at the best of
all times, least of all now, when he was tired and lost in this nightmare world. The sickly
sense of panic which he had felt then was trilling at his nerves, seeking to take over his
mind, and as hard as he tried, Seiji could not quite displace it. It made his breathing
light and fast. There seemed to be an icy ball in the pit of his chest, which spread
through out his body and left cold tingles in its wake.
"Anubisu!"
His longtime enemy wasn't attacking, why wasn't he attacking? Couldn't he see
that Seiji was helpless? /Not helpless, / he corrected, his mind automatically shuddering
away from that idea. Vulnerable, perhaps. Never helpless. That would mean they had
won, and he couldn't -wouldn't- believe that. Smart of Shikaisen, to use this most hated
of memories against him. He'd known of Arago, after all. It was a favorite nightmare to
send after him. Why not drag out that face and those eyes to terrorize him as well?
Anubisu continued to watch him, face still. Anubisu knelt slowly, eyes
shadowed and face expressionless. Despite the eerily calm visage, Seiji knew Anubisu,
knew him and his cruelty far too well, and he pressed back from him. His fist tightened,
fingers questing for his sword. He'd lost his grip on Kourinken - where was it? He
couldn't fight without it, not without using Kourin to its full extent, and something
crossed his mind, a feeling from _outside_ him, sadistic glee and a thrill of victory, and
he pushed the feeling away, unable to deal with his misfiring empathic abilities.
/I can't use the yoroi, can't call it-/ Oh, but the _want_ to call the yoroi was a
strong one, fueled by a desperate need for something, anything to use as further
protection. Only the grim knowledge that people would die if he did kept him from it.
With that thought came something resembling calm; no matter what this shadow which
had been conjured up did to him. It had always been easier to be strong for others
rather than for himself, and he clung to that realization.
"Are you all right?" The voice was deeper than he remembered, warped
somehow in this place of twilight.
A shrill cry from behind him. He looked over one shoulder, staring back. The
creature had finally managed to get up, wound completely healed now, and it screamed
towards them both. Seiji cast a hand out again for Kourinken, but again his fingers
missed it.
He barely managed to dive out of the way. The creature landed where he'd
been sitting moments before, and spun to face him, forest debris flying. It hissed,
revealing double rows of sharp, pointed teeth and a long slender tongue which whipped
out as though tasting the air.
A crunching of leaves demanded his attention. Anubisu stood, ignoring Seiji
momentarily, reaching behind to swing down his own weapon. The long blade sent a
cool wind against Seiji's face as it sang through the air. Anubisu stepped forward, and
this time when the creature jumped towards them, he called his own attack. It fried in
the dark lightning, wailing in pain, before it vanished in a cloud of dark violet smoke.
Anubisu turned back to look at Seiji.
"You don't look all right," he said, blinking down at him. Seiji stared back up
with wide eyes. _This_ certainly wasn't the way he had envisioned their reunion being.
Certainly not if this wasn't the real Anubisu, but a dream fragment used by his captors in
an attempt to destroy him. This raised the possibility that this wasn't a false Anubisu at
all, but the true Yami bearer.
Seiji wasn't entirely certain which would be worse.
"Shit," Anubisu muttered, removing his helmet to run a hand through his hair.
"What did they do to you, Kourin?"
Seiji watched him mutely. Definitely not the way he'd thought their reunion
would be. Not that he'd ever particularly wanted said reunion, but the thought
remained. Obviously Shikaisen didn't have as good a grip on Seiji's memories as he
thought. Unless, of course, it wasn't a false Anubisu at all, he reminded himself. His
head was starting to hurt from thinking about it.
"Never mind," Anubisu said, looking frustrated at Seiji's lack of response.
"Where are you?"
"I don't know," Seiji answered. His voice remained even, a fact which he was
rather proud of. It wasn't a lie either. Where was he? The forest, he thought, except for
when he was at the dojo.
"Not _here_," Anubisu waved a hand at their surroundings. "When you _aren't_
all fucked up. Where are you then?"
"I don't know," Seiji repeated, more earnestly this time. A slight current of
anger was starting to make its way through his dulled emotions. He _really_ didn't like
Anubisu.
"You're not being much help, you realize." The dark haired man scowled at
Seiji, as though the entire mess was his fault. Which it might have been; Seiji certainly
didn't know how it had happened.
"You don't remember anything else?" Anubisu pressed the point and Seiji
reacted to the underlying tone. There was only one reason that Anubisu had ever
spoken to him in that tone of voice before, and his mind jumped to it. Anubisu and what
he represented must merely be a new tactic of Seiji's captor. It figured really; just
another way to trick him into donning Kourin and having its abilities memorized by the
computers. His eyes narrowed.
"I'm not giving you the yoroi," Seiji hissed, and gathered his legs under him.
He was ready to spring up if need be, exhausted as he was or not.
Extreme irritation passed over Anubisu's face at that.
"For the gods' sake, Kourin, I'm not after the damn yoroi!" He yelled, eyes
flashing. Seiji blinked at that. It was certainly not a phrase he had ever expected out of
his one time enemy. He said as much and Anubisu looked vaguely ashamed.
"Things are different now," he muttered, and stretched a hand out to help Seiji
to his feet.
"I'm still dreaming," Seiji said flatly, watching the offered extension warily.
"That's the only explanation for this."
He pushed the hand aside and stood on his own. A quick look located
Kourinken, and he grasped it quickly. Seiji didn't like the sensation of being weaponless
around his darker companion.
"Dreaming?"
Seiji nodded and pushed the heavy stands of hair out of his face.
"The forest, the dojo," he explained shortly, waving a hand at their
surroundings. "They created them, based on my memories."
Anubisu gave a long look at the dark trees and the rather foreboding green
lights.
"Some memories," he muttered. Seiji glared at him.
"It doesn't look like this, not in real life," Seiji said, feeling vaguely defensive.
"I know," Anubisu responded, but that was a reminder of something which Seiji
didn't want to think of, and he pushed the memory away quickly. Anubisu, as if sensing
that he had gone somewhere which had not needed going, paused and looked back at
Seiji.
"I am sorry about that," he said and raked his fingers through his hair again.
"Drop it," Seiji's words were clipped. "I don't want to hear it."
"Right then." He sighed. "It's how I'm here is all. This is me, you know, not
one of your warped memories."
That answered the question on whether or not this was a false shade. Those
memories were ones which Shikaisen had never managed to breech, thank all the gods.
Seiji looked closer, stretching out with his mind to get a better sense of his companion.
Anubisu didn't have the surreal tinge to him that the rest of the creatures in this shadow
world did, and his presence seemed more solid, somehow, now that the panic had
resided and Seiji could take note of such things.
He flipped Kourinken to his back, feeling odd just holding it if he wasn't about
to use it. It was within reach, though, and that was all that he needed.
"I should have guessed," Seiji said sourly. "They would never have been able to
quite match your true personality. You're too annoying in person."
"See, I would have gone for dead sexy and debonair, personally-"
"Not in this life, Yami."
"Well, damn. Who's 'they'?"
Seiji blinked, not prepared for the abrupt change in subject.
"Why do you want to know?" he queried suspiciously.
Anubisu looked offended. "Because, you idiot, something is happening to you
and I'm getting the after effects of it through the bond. I'm sick of it, it's been
happening for weeks, and since your 'friends'-" he said that bit maliciously and made
those annoying finger quotes with it, "-haven't seen fit to put a stop to it, _I am_. That
answer enough for you?"
"Weeks?" Seiji said slowly. He'd never really thought about how long he'd
been kept there. More than days, he would have thought, but weeks?
"Trust me. _Weeks._"
Seiji half felt an urge to laugh at that. Trust Anubisu? He wasn't such a fool as
to do that.
"So?" Anubisu went on, looking decidedly miffed at this point. He crossed his
arms and leaned back against a tree. "I don't want to spend anymore time in this
nightmare than I have to."
That made two of them. It was perhaps the first thing that they had ever
agreed on.
"I don't know who they are," Seiji said finally. "Not all of them, anyway.
There's a man, a scientist, who seems to be in charge of the humans, but I've never
heard his name."
"You said 'humans'," Anubisu's gaze was intent. "Which means that there were
other creatures?"
"Just the one. At least, as far as I know. There are a lot of times when I don't
know anything, because I'm not really there." Seiji said that last in a whisper. He shook
himself to get his attention back.
"Shikaisen. That's the demon. Even the scientist seems to answer to him."
Anubisu pursed his lips, staring at the twilight dimmed foliage.
"Not a name I recognize," he confessed, his brow furrowed. "But there are a
lot of places he could be from, not just the Youjaikai. Or it might not be the name he
commonly goes by. What does he look like?"
"He looks like a mutated raisin," Seiji said grimly. "But with a beard."
"Interesting description. Doesn't ring any bells though."
Seiji shrugged at that, not looking at his reluctant companion. It was easier to
concentrate on the trees, or the bracken. Dark as it was, it was prudent to keep an eye
on their surroundings. It was unusual that the attacks would let off for as long as they
had, and Seiji wondered suddenly if they had a way to see what he was dreaming and if
they knew Anubisu was there.
"As for location," he went on, thinking back to Anubisu's prior question. He
kept his tone modulated. It was much easier to exchange banter than it was to
remember just where his body was, and who had taken it there. "I don't really know. I
was in New York when they took me, but I think I was unconscious for some time. I could
be anywhere, though I'm fairly certain that I am still in America. Shikaisen and the
scientist speak Japanese well, but their minions don't."
"America is a damn big place, Kourin. Can't you narrow it down any?"
Seiji shrugged again. His hair fell back into face with the movement and he
irritably pushed it aside once more. It almost hurt to remember these things; his mind
wanted to let go of them and stay in the here and now. He had to force it back onto task.
The paid footmen spoke English, a language he wasn't fluent at and he
certainly didn't recognize the differences in dialect. In any event, he hadn't had much
experience with them. They usually ran from the room when he was awake, because
Shikaisen was there and none of them seemed overly comfortable with the demon in
their midst.
But they hadn't all spoken English, Seiji realized, and frowned in concentration.
Some of them, he remembered, had spoken Chinese, because-
"It's right under Chinatown," he said, surprised at the memory. "Los Angeles.
Some of the soldiers were talking about it. I'd forgotten." Dismay at that thought. He
prided himself on his memory. He hated not being able to rely on it.
Anubisu frowned. Evidently modern cities weren't a key point of his.
"Fine." The blue haired man pushed away from the tree and knelt to recover
Yamiken. "Give me a bit; I'll have to ask Naaza where that is."
"Take your time," Seiji muttered. He didn't particularly care for the idea of
Anubisu coming to his aid, but it had to be better than waiting for his will to break and
Shikaisen to gain full access to Kourin.
Anubisu made a face at him which he pretended to ignore.
"I'm leaving now," he said needlessly, and then paused and frowned again.
"Ah, are you going to be all right?"
There was something resembling concern in his eyes when he said that, which
Seiji found to be bitterly ironic given their relationship. It brought the anger back to
him, which had been temporarily placed aside during their surrealistic conversation.
"I'll be fine," he spat and glared at the taller man. "Trust me; they aren't nearly
as imaginative as _you_ were."
"Then I'll be sure to give them some pointers when I find them," Anubisu said
savagely. The two locked gazes and scowled at each other.
Nice to know that some things don't change, Seiji thought vaguely, as Anubisu
flipped him off and then faded into the shadows. Anubisu and I, we'll always hate each
other.
The fact that he'd just told his onetime nemesis exactly where to find him,
when he himself was defenseless, was not a comfortable one. It was almost a relief
when he heard a slight rustle through the undergrowth and slitted golden eyes opened
and glared menacingly at him.
Easy enough to swing Kourinken from his back and prepare to fight once more.
At least he'd had a bit of a respite, unwelcome company aside. The drugs made it
frighteningly easy to put the conversation out of conscious thought.
The golden eyed creature leapt at him, mandibles clacking and
multisegmented legs skittering with impossible speed across the leaf strewn ground.
He rejoined the battle with a shout.
TBC.
****
Author's Notes
So. Er. It's been two months. Almost three, really, since the last time I updated this.
It's sort of pathetic, I suppose. I apologize for it. I hit a dry spell and couldn't write
anything for over a month and a half. When you write as much as I do, it's a very
depressing place to be. I loath writer's block with a fiery passion.
Fortunately, an infusion of Irish rebel music and time spent working on my online comic
managed to get me back on track. Anyway, I do hope that you enjoy this chapter. The
next one shouldn't take two and a half months to get out. I rather hope not, anyway!
I'd give you some details from the next chapter, but remarkably few of the ones I
promised last time actually happened. Thus, I can state with all a complete lack o truth
that there will be pink bunnies, a romance between Arago's twin sister and Ryou, and
the discovery of the tenth armor worn by Jun, bishonen no yoroi, the Armor of the Pretty
Boy, which, after a quick vote, is infused with Kourin because, really, no one is prettier
on that show than Seiji anyway. Jun will be most disappointed. Yamato may make a
guest appearance, simply so that he can declare that he's not a Seiji clone. Heh. We
all know the truth anyway.
April 23, 2003
Chapter One: In Which Conversations are Uncomfortable
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem to find myself again
My walls are closing in
Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced
That there's just too much pressure to take
-Linkin Park: Crawling
******
Anubisu was dreaming.
He recognized the sensation. There was a peculiar sense to it, one which
always returned no matter how often he slipped into this trancelike state. It was neither
welcome nor reviled. At least, not while he was still sleeping. While dreaming, though,
he was passive. He couldn't touch or change anything which he saw.
After all, it was impossible to change the events of another person's dream.
There was a soft wind on his face and Anubisu opened his eyes to see a
familiar corridor. Dark green light lit the paper walls. The floor was some hardwood,
dark as sin in the bad lighting. Nothing unusual. He'd seen this particular walkway
many, many times. It seemed to be a traditional dojo, wooden floors and sliding paper
walls making him feel vaguely self conscious about his sandal clad feet. He repressed
the desire to shuck them, and concentrated instead on the sudden start of sound.
There were voices in the next room, a multitude of them in varying shades and
pitches. Each sounded smug. It didn't take much for Anubisu to decide that he rather
disliked those voices.
Frowning, he made his way towards the nearest sliding panel. His feet made
no sound, another disconcerting change from reality. They should have thumped loudly
with each step. He was not walking carefully.
When he reached the door he paused, listening. The voices were still
speaking, but the words were yet indistinct; he couldn't make them out. The tone of
them was more wheedling now, threatening and begging in the same breath. He could
almost hear another voice, different from the multitude, shouting something that
drowned beneath the myriad voices that rose against it.
That other voice sounded familiar, but it was distorted and he couldn't tell who
it belonged to. One hand crept up of its own violation, catching at the door frame. It
was rough under his fingers, an odd contrast to the smooth look of the wood grain. He
pushed against it, but it didn't open. Instead his fingers slipped through it, and he
stepped through the closed door. It was no more substantial than smoke, but he didn't
think about this.
The voices had stopped.
Anubisu peered in, eyes automatically adjusting to the even greater darkness
of that room. It was the same wooden floor, same dark shadows, but the entirety of the
place was covered with grime and ichor, blood and entrails covering the walls and
staining the white paper. There was no scent to the bloody destruction, but the sight
was more than enough to turn his stomach. It felt somehow colder in that room as well,
the temperature dropping several degrees as he walked out of the plain room he had
arrived in.
/I am somewhere within the mansion. Please come and save me. /
Anubisu blinked at the sound. There was no one else in the room, of that he
was entirely certain, and that voice hadn't sounded particularly desperate. If anything it
was smug, as though it knew his decision had already been made. Anubisu didn't like it.
/Don the armor and save me. /
He started. The hell was that about? The yoroi? How did they even know
about it, and who was this anyway?
His frown growing deeper, Anubisu stalked forward, determined to find the
source of the voice and to shake some answers out of it.
There was a gasp but it didn't come from him. He stilled a moment, listening
for the source. It came again, louder, with the clang that announced metal cracking
against metal, followed by a dull thump that could only be flesh striking - or being
struck. It was coming from the next room. He shot towards it, ran through the paper
paneling, to see-
A figure stood in the middle of the room, the shadows draining all color and
features. He was clutching a long sword in both hands, hair slicked back with sweat or
blood, Anubisu couldn't tell which. Anubisu started and stared harder at the figure. Was
that undergear?
It was, though the color of it was impossible to tell with deep fog that seemed
to surround the place. The boy, for it was a boy, seemingly young if the shape of his
body was any indication, looked dreadfully familiar, but whether this was Rekka or Doku
or one of the others, he couldn't tell. Anubisu couldn't see face or features. They were
shrouded somehow, fogged from his sight, and his hair fell forward over them, further
helping to disguise his face. The grey-green light turned skin and hair and shadow the
same dingy color. Only the paleness of the yoroi stood out, white in the darkness.
Something about the way he moved, however, shot a tingle of recognition through
Anubisu, and without even thinking the name, he found his subconscious thought
confirmed. He knew this boy, knew him far too well-
"Hwoa!"
The figure hefted his sword and raced towards an eight legged monstrosity
which clicked mandibles at them both and skittered along the far wall, up it, and leaped
off in a perfect jump that seemed to allow it to land straight on the boy. He would have
none of that, it seemed. He turned easily, wielding a blade longer than he was tall and
making it appear as light as a bokken in his hands. He swung upwards, the sword the
same silver glitter as fish scales underwater. It sang through the air, slicing the creature
in two, both parts turning to a swirling dark smoke as Anubisu watched. He took a step
forward, determined to confirm or deny his suspicions, only to have that featureless face
turn towards the movement.
The boy seemed surprised to see him, but his resolve was soon gained back.
His armor clad feet were silent as he ran forward, and Anubisu wondered just how the
boy had seen him, given that he'd not been able to affect anything else in this strange
dream. Then there wasn't time to think because the boy had reached him, had leapt
upwards, high above, and the sword swung down in a breathtaking arc, two handed over
his head and down again. Unable to move, Anubisu watched wide-eyed as it fell straight
through him, cleaving this dream self in half.
The grey vision fractured, splintering into shards of broken glass. As they fell
away into darkness, the featureless face fell into place, and a pair of horrified violet eyes
met his own. Anubisu thought that he might have shouted, straining towards that face,
but it swirled away and then was gone.
****
"He'll be upset when he wakes up."
"He can deal."
There was a sharp poke to the top of his head.
"Maybe you should be more careful. You know how grumpy he is first thing in
the morning."
It was followed by a pull on his hair.
"It's not morning." The voice sounded perfectly reasonable and justified.
"Besides, he should know better than to fall asleep during a meeting."
"Still," The first tone was still somewhat worried.
"Besides," Another sharp yank, a feeling of hair being twisted, and then
another section lifted from his scalp. "You can't not think it's funny."
"That's only because it is."
"Kayura-chan thinks so, ne?"
"Hai!" Entirely too perky, the third voice was. Anubisu had the sudden desire
to smack the source of it, but a vague suspicion of that being an extremely lousy idea
held him back.
"Too bad we don't have a mortal whassitcalled, picture taker, you know-"
"Camera?"
Another pull and twist. Anubisu raised a hand to smack at the offending hair
snatcher.
"Exactly. Oi, he's waking up!"
Eyes still tightly screwed shut, Anubisu groaned. His head hurt entirely too
much to deal with this at the moment.
"Rather wishing that I'm not," he muttered, pushing his face further into his
folded arms.
"You might be, especially after you look in a mirror." The first voice melted
into a recognizable tone. Naaza. A snicker answered him from somewhere to Anubisu's
right.
"What?" He lifted his head enough to peer upwards over his hands. The
headache which had previously retreated for a nice, enjoyable rest, returned to action
and, seemingly feeling guilty for having abandoned him for the past while, set up
clanging cymbals between his ears and poking at his eyes from the inside out. Anubisu
moaned and let his head fall back again, clutching his fingers through his hair. They
brushed against a smoothly twisted bit, and he tactically examined it, confused
somewhat at its presence.
"The hell...?" he murmured, fingering it. There was a sputter of laughter from
Rajura.
"Ano, Anubisu," Kayura said. She sounded like she was smothering laughter
with each word. "I think that you should get some rest. You don't look like you are
feeling all that well at the moment."
He chose not to dignify that with a response. His headache chose to abandon
the cymbals and move on to firing canons.
"Yare, yare," he said, managing somehow to push up from the low table and
regain his feet. He had the sudden embarrassing thought that there was quite likely a
large red print on his cheek from the rough fabric of his shirt. He rubbed at it, felt the
impression of linen, frowned, and forgot about it. The others could deal.
Naaza, Rajura, and Kayura watched him, the later two somewhat expectantly,
the former somewhat nervously. He glared at them. Kayura giggled, which caused
Anubisu to scowl. Giggles were not the proper response to a Yami glare. Ignoring this,
he stepped carefully away from his seat and moved on to the door, stepping through and
slowly making his way back to his chambers. Somehow he didn't have the energy to
teleport at the moment.
He yawned as he meandered away from their war room, Arago's former
chamber. There had been a meeting, he remembered that much but damned if he knew
any of the details from it. No, he'd been dreaming again. The same dreams which had
haunted him for over three weeks now, much as he disliked thinking about it.
The trip back to his rooms was rather unremarkable. Several of the underlings
skittered out of his way as he trod, heavy footed, down the several halls and flights of
stairs back to his quarters. They received several venomous looks as well, but most
seemed somewhat dumbstruck and not adequately cowed as they should have been. He
hoped rather that his face wasn't still red.
The answer to this was discovered not long after he'd reached his quarters.
Staring in the body length mirror that Kayura had discovered in the mortal world,
Anubisu groaned. He tentatively reached a hand up to pull at one of the many /many/
little twists and braids that decorated his scalp, each tied off with a pretty ribbon of
varying colors and hues.
Death, he decided, wrenching out one after another of the ties. Death to
Rajura. And to Kayura too, those ribbons had to have come from somewhere. Painful,
horrible death, probably involving Yamiken stuck in various painful, horrible places.
He paused a moment as a thought occurred to him. The youjai had been
staring as he made his way back from the conference room...
"Fuck," he muttered. Death was too good for them. He would have to think of
some suitable revenge, terrible and complete and agonizing. But not just at that
moment. Not with his head hurting this much, more so now that he'd been tugging at
his hair.
Finally managing to get the last of the bows out, he collapsed onto his bed, not
even bothering to shuck his clothes. Sleep. That was what was needed. He closed his
eyes, relaxing back into the darkness of the room.
A pale face stared at him, eyes dark and accusing and horrified.
Anubisu snapped his eyes open, breathing hard.
There was no one in the room of course, but damn if that _feeling_ wasn't
staying with him, that sense of fright and pain and grim determination which he'd felt
before, all too clearly. A distant feeling coursed over him, as though someone had
turned his own Koku rou Ken Ankoku Cho Uhigiri against him. It was faint, but his limbs
ached as it passed. For a moment, his heart beat in the rhythm of another, and his lungs
gasped, trying to follow that other's erratic pattern. The dark room blurred and became
a hazy forest, trees black slashes against a grey sky.
Then it was over. The forest vanished, the pain disappeared with the same
accelerity as it had overtaken him, the sense that another was in control regretfully
faded, lingering for a moment in his mind.
More unnerved then he would like to admit, Anubisu stared up at his dark
ceiling.
Groaning, he thrust a hand over his own eyes, blocking the dim room with a
self imposed darkness that somehow made it easier to think. At least when the feelings
had vanished, his headache had gone with them.
He knew that face. He knew those eyes. And as much as he hated to
remember, he knew the feel of that mind. The bond was supposed to be dormant, if not
dead. He'd tried as hard as he could to close it after their parting and it had been over a
year since last active, but he still remembered.
Shaking his head slightly, he wondered aloud:
"Kourin, what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?"
There was no answer, but he hadn't particularly expected one. He was not
used to having them gift wrapped and handed to him, particularly in regards to the
bearer of his yoroi's twin.
Anubisu groaned and rolled onto a side. He twined the fingers of one hand
through his newly freed hair and pulled on it.
Weeks now, this had been happening. Weeks of closing his eyes and opening
them to see that damned dojo or the dark forest, weeks of subdued lighting flickering
through his body, weeks of feeling secondhand what he shouldn't be feeling at all.
It was getting worse. Anubisu pressed his face into his free arm. It had been
the merest of sensations to start off with, and had only progressed into full visions
recently. He hadn't even been certain where he was getting them from at first. Now the
knowledge seemed to beat at him, and he pushed himself onto his back once more,
throwing an arm over his face.
/Fine, / he thought irritably. / Fine. I _get it_. /
Not for the first time, he cursed the bond that bound his spirit to Kourin no
Seiji's. It was an impossible task to close it completely, a fact which he should know
given how hard he'd tried to kill it.
Still mentally grumbling, Anubisu let his mind sink again. It was entirely too
easy to locate the thread that connected them, and easier still to follow it back again. He
waited a moment, felt his surroundings shift and alter as his mind entered into that of
the other.
When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at trees.
****
Pain. It snaked upwards from his calves, striking through his body like
lightning.
The forest seemed to call out to him, whispering his name as he ran through
it. Monsters crept along the pine needle strewn ground, slithering and sneaking, their
claws and mandibles clicking audibly. He swallowed listening to it, hearing them and /
that voice/ still calling out for his aid.
It was twilight, or so he thought. Twilight, because the light was grey and
pale, a weak thing that shuddered and failed as night approached. It was never dawn
here. He would not be granted the hope inspiring aid of coming light.
His feet slapped the ground and sent jarring thuds up his legs. They ached
from it, not yet numb, but he didn't stop. There were creatures in the shadow which he
did not want to face; he didn't think he had the strength to do so again. Not here. Not
like this.
Easier to run. Easier to forget honor for the moment, taking flight and comfort
in the better part of valor. He hated himself for it. He should be fighting these
creatures, should be forcing _them_ to flee, but he'd already fought for so long and he
was so tired... He didn't think he could manage it just then. And if they found him ... and
if he couldn't fight them off...
He shuddered to think about it.
He'd been lucky this far. He'd have to be lucky a bit longer if he wanted to
survive this. Oh god, oh god, he had to survive this. The others needed him to. He
wasn't exactly certain what would happen if he didn't escape the monsters, but he knew
that the effects of it would be devastating. Something inside him whispered this,
breaking the spell _that voice_ tried to weave, splintering its control and allowing him to
continue moving.
He blinked and found himself on the ground, hands pressed into the loam and
his no datchi shining dully at his right. The rasping sound of his own breathing filled his
ears. How long had he been kneeling there? He didn't know. An open target, he
thought with disgust, reaching with a hand that shook ever so lightly for his sword. For
just a moment he continued to sit, shifting his position so that he was kneeling.
He tilted the no datchi so that he could lean on it. The long edge was covered
in dirt and ichor, and had he been in his usual state of mind he would have been
disgusted at his own lack of respect for the blade. It bore his weight silently. Had he
expected otherwise?
His mind scattered at the thought, and he wondered uneasily what he had just
been doing. It was impossible to tell. All he could remember of this place was the
battle, then running.
Soft pale pink fell across his face and he blinked upwards. Sakura rained down
and he flinched from it. Not a good sign, it was never a good sign-
A clattering behind him. Something thick and bloated and slimy moved
towards him, amazingly fast for something of its bulk, and he barely managed to get
himself up and the no datchi in position in time for it to impale itself on Kourinken's long
blade. It howled at him, trying to move up towards him despite the sword sticking
through its midsection and Seiji yelled, spinning so that it was thrown off before it
managed to squirm up the blade to touch him.
Not the best of moves. It wasn't dead and the gaping wound merely began to
close off, leaving no trace of it, and worse, no trace of weakness. It twitched forward
even as it healed, and Seiji turned to run again, not certain if he could defeat it at the
moment.
He bounced back, falling to the ground as a previously unseen tan wall made
its presence known.
Seiji blinked up at it. Not a wall at all, but a yoroi. He gasped at the sight of it,
and more specifically, at it's bearer.
The dark haired man currently frowning at him was not exactly a figure Seiji
would have thought of as a savior. Quite the opposite, really, especially given their last
encounter. He tried to shove that thought away, not wanting to deal with it at the best of
all times, least of all now, when he was tired and lost in this nightmare world. The sickly
sense of panic which he had felt then was trilling at his nerves, seeking to take over his
mind, and as hard as he tried, Seiji could not quite displace it. It made his breathing
light and fast. There seemed to be an icy ball in the pit of his chest, which spread
through out his body and left cold tingles in its wake.
"Anubisu!"
His longtime enemy wasn't attacking, why wasn't he attacking? Couldn't he see
that Seiji was helpless? /Not helpless, / he corrected, his mind automatically shuddering
away from that idea. Vulnerable, perhaps. Never helpless. That would mean they had
won, and he couldn't -wouldn't- believe that. Smart of Shikaisen, to use this most hated
of memories against him. He'd known of Arago, after all. It was a favorite nightmare to
send after him. Why not drag out that face and those eyes to terrorize him as well?
Anubisu continued to watch him, face still. Anubisu knelt slowly, eyes
shadowed and face expressionless. Despite the eerily calm visage, Seiji knew Anubisu,
knew him and his cruelty far too well, and he pressed back from him. His fist tightened,
fingers questing for his sword. He'd lost his grip on Kourinken - where was it? He
couldn't fight without it, not without using Kourin to its full extent, and something
crossed his mind, a feeling from _outside_ him, sadistic glee and a thrill of victory, and
he pushed the feeling away, unable to deal with his misfiring empathic abilities.
/I can't use the yoroi, can't call it-/ Oh, but the _want_ to call the yoroi was a
strong one, fueled by a desperate need for something, anything to use as further
protection. Only the grim knowledge that people would die if he did kept him from it.
With that thought came something resembling calm; no matter what this shadow which
had been conjured up did to him. It had always been easier to be strong for others
rather than for himself, and he clung to that realization.
"Are you all right?" The voice was deeper than he remembered, warped
somehow in this place of twilight.
A shrill cry from behind him. He looked over one shoulder, staring back. The
creature had finally managed to get up, wound completely healed now, and it screamed
towards them both. Seiji cast a hand out again for Kourinken, but again his fingers
missed it.
He barely managed to dive out of the way. The creature landed where he'd
been sitting moments before, and spun to face him, forest debris flying. It hissed,
revealing double rows of sharp, pointed teeth and a long slender tongue which whipped
out as though tasting the air.
A crunching of leaves demanded his attention. Anubisu stood, ignoring Seiji
momentarily, reaching behind to swing down his own weapon. The long blade sent a
cool wind against Seiji's face as it sang through the air. Anubisu stepped forward, and
this time when the creature jumped towards them, he called his own attack. It fried in
the dark lightning, wailing in pain, before it vanished in a cloud of dark violet smoke.
Anubisu turned back to look at Seiji.
"You don't look all right," he said, blinking down at him. Seiji stared back up
with wide eyes. _This_ certainly wasn't the way he had envisioned their reunion being.
Certainly not if this wasn't the real Anubisu, but a dream fragment used by his captors in
an attempt to destroy him. This raised the possibility that this wasn't a false Anubisu at
all, but the true Yami bearer.
Seiji wasn't entirely certain which would be worse.
"Shit," Anubisu muttered, removing his helmet to run a hand through his hair.
"What did they do to you, Kourin?"
Seiji watched him mutely. Definitely not the way he'd thought their reunion
would be. Not that he'd ever particularly wanted said reunion, but the thought
remained. Obviously Shikaisen didn't have as good a grip on Seiji's memories as he
thought. Unless, of course, it wasn't a false Anubisu at all, he reminded himself. His
head was starting to hurt from thinking about it.
"Never mind," Anubisu said, looking frustrated at Seiji's lack of response.
"Where are you?"
"I don't know," Seiji answered. His voice remained even, a fact which he was
rather proud of. It wasn't a lie either. Where was he? The forest, he thought, except for
when he was at the dojo.
"Not _here_," Anubisu waved a hand at their surroundings. "When you _aren't_
all fucked up. Where are you then?"
"I don't know," Seiji repeated, more earnestly this time. A slight current of
anger was starting to make its way through his dulled emotions. He _really_ didn't like
Anubisu.
"You're not being much help, you realize." The dark haired man scowled at
Seiji, as though the entire mess was his fault. Which it might have been; Seiji certainly
didn't know how it had happened.
"You don't remember anything else?" Anubisu pressed the point and Seiji
reacted to the underlying tone. There was only one reason that Anubisu had ever
spoken to him in that tone of voice before, and his mind jumped to it. Anubisu and what
he represented must merely be a new tactic of Seiji's captor. It figured really; just
another way to trick him into donning Kourin and having its abilities memorized by the
computers. His eyes narrowed.
"I'm not giving you the yoroi," Seiji hissed, and gathered his legs under him.
He was ready to spring up if need be, exhausted as he was or not.
Extreme irritation passed over Anubisu's face at that.
"For the gods' sake, Kourin, I'm not after the damn yoroi!" He yelled, eyes
flashing. Seiji blinked at that. It was certainly not a phrase he had ever expected out of
his one time enemy. He said as much and Anubisu looked vaguely ashamed.
"Things are different now," he muttered, and stretched a hand out to help Seiji
to his feet.
"I'm still dreaming," Seiji said flatly, watching the offered extension warily.
"That's the only explanation for this."
He pushed the hand aside and stood on his own. A quick look located
Kourinken, and he grasped it quickly. Seiji didn't like the sensation of being weaponless
around his darker companion.
"Dreaming?"
Seiji nodded and pushed the heavy stands of hair out of his face.
"The forest, the dojo," he explained shortly, waving a hand at their
surroundings. "They created them, based on my memories."
Anubisu gave a long look at the dark trees and the rather foreboding green
lights.
"Some memories," he muttered. Seiji glared at him.
"It doesn't look like this, not in real life," Seiji said, feeling vaguely defensive.
"I know," Anubisu responded, but that was a reminder of something which Seiji
didn't want to think of, and he pushed the memory away quickly. Anubisu, as if sensing
that he had gone somewhere which had not needed going, paused and looked back at
Seiji.
"I am sorry about that," he said and raked his fingers through his hair again.
"Drop it," Seiji's words were clipped. "I don't want to hear it."
"Right then." He sighed. "It's how I'm here is all. This is me, you know, not
one of your warped memories."
That answered the question on whether or not this was a false shade. Those
memories were ones which Shikaisen had never managed to breech, thank all the gods.
Seiji looked closer, stretching out with his mind to get a better sense of his companion.
Anubisu didn't have the surreal tinge to him that the rest of the creatures in this shadow
world did, and his presence seemed more solid, somehow, now that the panic had
resided and Seiji could take note of such things.
He flipped Kourinken to his back, feeling odd just holding it if he wasn't about
to use it. It was within reach, though, and that was all that he needed.
"I should have guessed," Seiji said sourly. "They would never have been able to
quite match your true personality. You're too annoying in person."
"See, I would have gone for dead sexy and debonair, personally-"
"Not in this life, Yami."
"Well, damn. Who's 'they'?"
Seiji blinked, not prepared for the abrupt change in subject.
"Why do you want to know?" he queried suspiciously.
Anubisu looked offended. "Because, you idiot, something is happening to you
and I'm getting the after effects of it through the bond. I'm sick of it, it's been
happening for weeks, and since your 'friends'-" he said that bit maliciously and made
those annoying finger quotes with it, "-haven't seen fit to put a stop to it, _I am_. That
answer enough for you?"
"Weeks?" Seiji said slowly. He'd never really thought about how long he'd
been kept there. More than days, he would have thought, but weeks?
"Trust me. _Weeks._"
Seiji half felt an urge to laugh at that. Trust Anubisu? He wasn't such a fool as
to do that.
"So?" Anubisu went on, looking decidedly miffed at this point. He crossed his
arms and leaned back against a tree. "I don't want to spend anymore time in this
nightmare than I have to."
That made two of them. It was perhaps the first thing that they had ever
agreed on.
"I don't know who they are," Seiji said finally. "Not all of them, anyway.
There's a man, a scientist, who seems to be in charge of the humans, but I've never
heard his name."
"You said 'humans'," Anubisu's gaze was intent. "Which means that there were
other creatures?"
"Just the one. At least, as far as I know. There are a lot of times when I don't
know anything, because I'm not really there." Seiji said that last in a whisper. He shook
himself to get his attention back.
"Shikaisen. That's the demon. Even the scientist seems to answer to him."
Anubisu pursed his lips, staring at the twilight dimmed foliage.
"Not a name I recognize," he confessed, his brow furrowed. "But there are a
lot of places he could be from, not just the Youjaikai. Or it might not be the name he
commonly goes by. What does he look like?"
"He looks like a mutated raisin," Seiji said grimly. "But with a beard."
"Interesting description. Doesn't ring any bells though."
Seiji shrugged at that, not looking at his reluctant companion. It was easier to
concentrate on the trees, or the bracken. Dark as it was, it was prudent to keep an eye
on their surroundings. It was unusual that the attacks would let off for as long as they
had, and Seiji wondered suddenly if they had a way to see what he was dreaming and if
they knew Anubisu was there.
"As for location," he went on, thinking back to Anubisu's prior question. He
kept his tone modulated. It was much easier to exchange banter than it was to
remember just where his body was, and who had taken it there. "I don't really know. I
was in New York when they took me, but I think I was unconscious for some time. I could
be anywhere, though I'm fairly certain that I am still in America. Shikaisen and the
scientist speak Japanese well, but their minions don't."
"America is a damn big place, Kourin. Can't you narrow it down any?"
Seiji shrugged again. His hair fell back into face with the movement and he
irritably pushed it aside once more. It almost hurt to remember these things; his mind
wanted to let go of them and stay in the here and now. He had to force it back onto task.
The paid footmen spoke English, a language he wasn't fluent at and he
certainly didn't recognize the differences in dialect. In any event, he hadn't had much
experience with them. They usually ran from the room when he was awake, because
Shikaisen was there and none of them seemed overly comfortable with the demon in
their midst.
But they hadn't all spoken English, Seiji realized, and frowned in concentration.
Some of them, he remembered, had spoken Chinese, because-
"It's right under Chinatown," he said, surprised at the memory. "Los Angeles.
Some of the soldiers were talking about it. I'd forgotten." Dismay at that thought. He
prided himself on his memory. He hated not being able to rely on it.
Anubisu frowned. Evidently modern cities weren't a key point of his.
"Fine." The blue haired man pushed away from the tree and knelt to recover
Yamiken. "Give me a bit; I'll have to ask Naaza where that is."
"Take your time," Seiji muttered. He didn't particularly care for the idea of
Anubisu coming to his aid, but it had to be better than waiting for his will to break and
Shikaisen to gain full access to Kourin.
Anubisu made a face at him which he pretended to ignore.
"I'm leaving now," he said needlessly, and then paused and frowned again.
"Ah, are you going to be all right?"
There was something resembling concern in his eyes when he said that, which
Seiji found to be bitterly ironic given their relationship. It brought the anger back to
him, which had been temporarily placed aside during their surrealistic conversation.
"I'll be fine," he spat and glared at the taller man. "Trust me; they aren't nearly
as imaginative as _you_ were."
"Then I'll be sure to give them some pointers when I find them," Anubisu said
savagely. The two locked gazes and scowled at each other.
Nice to know that some things don't change, Seiji thought vaguely, as Anubisu
flipped him off and then faded into the shadows. Anubisu and I, we'll always hate each
other.
The fact that he'd just told his onetime nemesis exactly where to find him,
when he himself was defenseless, was not a comfortable one. It was almost a relief
when he heard a slight rustle through the undergrowth and slitted golden eyes opened
and glared menacingly at him.
Easy enough to swing Kourinken from his back and prepare to fight once more.
At least he'd had a bit of a respite, unwelcome company aside. The drugs made it
frighteningly easy to put the conversation out of conscious thought.
The golden eyed creature leapt at him, mandibles clacking and
multisegmented legs skittering with impossible speed across the leaf strewn ground.
He rejoined the battle with a shout.
TBC.
****
Author's Notes
So. Er. It's been two months. Almost three, really, since the last time I updated this.
It's sort of pathetic, I suppose. I apologize for it. I hit a dry spell and couldn't write
anything for over a month and a half. When you write as much as I do, it's a very
depressing place to be. I loath writer's block with a fiery passion.
Fortunately, an infusion of Irish rebel music and time spent working on my online comic
managed to get me back on track. Anyway, I do hope that you enjoy this chapter. The
next one shouldn't take two and a half months to get out. I rather hope not, anyway!
I'd give you some details from the next chapter, but remarkably few of the ones I
promised last time actually happened. Thus, I can state with all a complete lack o truth
that there will be pink bunnies, a romance between Arago's twin sister and Ryou, and
the discovery of the tenth armor worn by Jun, bishonen no yoroi, the Armor of the Pretty
Boy, which, after a quick vote, is infused with Kourin because, really, no one is prettier
on that show than Seiji anyway. Jun will be most disappointed. Yamato may make a
guest appearance, simply so that he can declare that he's not a Seiji clone. Heh. We
all know the truth anyway.
April 23, 2003