Momento Mori
An'X/1999' story
Sephy

"We cling to what is gone. Is there anything in this life but grief?"

"There's love. There's hope...for some. There's hope that you'll find something worthy...that your life will lead you to some joy...that after everything...you can still be surprised. "
--Amy Acker and Alexis Densiof, Angel the Series (5.16)

When Kamui opened his eyes, it was rain he tasted on his tongue.

Sharp and heavy, the taste was an old one, lingering tartly in his nose and mouth as he breathed in, the steady drip-drip of water against his face somehow less irritating than it should have been. The branches above his head shook, the rolling low of thunder in the distance causing him to blink against the wash of rain, splattering against bare skin and down his forehead, damp tendrils of hair threatening to blind him. The ground was deep here, his back against the rough of bark, one arm almost hugging a massive root, blanketed in clover and dew, a sea of green stretching out as far as he could see as he lifted his head.

He shifted, registering no surprise when there should have been some, no fear where there should have been some of that, too. Instead he felt dully curious, as though pulled from a long sleep, his eyes encrusted with sand and tears, naked and feeling no shame at that. It was all ... natural, as if it were entirely normal for him to be lying against a tree without a stitch on, and nothing save trees and sky above and around him.

Anyone else might have been disturbed, but for him, there was some relief in this. Relief in not having a dream filled with the stench of death and blood, blond curls flying in many directions as a head bounced against the ground, delicate limbs flying apart as if all the springs that had held them together had broken, wedged apart by the lever of a sword. Relief too, at being spared the sight of her murderer dogging Kamui in his dreams as he did in real life, his ever present shadow self made flesh and given form. No, not given. Taken. Stolen. The Dark Kamui had stolen the skin he wore now, treating it as if it were nothing so much as a shell for his own amusement, the spirit animating it containing all the mannerisms and memories of his friend but without the spark that had made him Fuuma. His friend wasn't a person anymore -- he was a monster, a thing that didn't care about life, that had no respect for human feeling nor any other boundary that had to be abided instead living only for destruction and chaos.

And still Kamui clung to hope, wanting nothing more than to save that last scrap of his childhood. To save the boy who had climbed trees with him and played in the mud, the boy who had given Kotori to his care and promised to watch over him. He had to believe there was something of that Fuuma left, sleeping deep within, awaiting the day when he could return to them. So many people had given their lives so that he would make his choice and in the end he hadn't been able to save one life, a helpless bystander as his destiny was decided with careless, if not heartfelt, words.

How many nights since had he regretted speaking so, wondering if he could have staved things off a little longer, if perhaps Kotori might have lived had he not been so certain he knew best, trusting no one until the end, not even Sorata? Too damned impulsive and hotheaded to slow down, to take his time and find out the truth behind the lies of his life. It had taken the shattering of Kotori's sanity and then her life along with Fuuma's before those rash fires had ebbed, leaving him only with smoldering regret.

But there was no regret here, no sense of anything save rest and tranquility, the ground beneath him moist without being muddy, his foot sliding in the damp earth as he drew his knee up, one elbow resting off of it. He glanced at his hands, free of bandages and without blemish and knew he was dreaming, vividly but dreaming nonetheless. This in itself was nothing new, his mind slipping in and out of consciousness since he'd awoken that day, pulled from his self-imposed exile by strong white hands and eyes the color of emeralds and glass, eyes that should have been clear but were instead shaded, a palpable echo of his own regret. Kamui wondered if one day, if he lived long enough, his own eyes would harden so, until they glinted, perfect jewels hiding the human being behind them.

He hoped not.

It was the green that reminded him, the lush outgrowth of vines and bushes, leafy plants on elongated stalks brushing his ankles as he hoisted himself up, unsteady and fearing he would slip, his hands clutching the trunk of the tree behind him. He lifted his face, filled with a quiet awe at seeing something so large and perfect, certain that even if there were ten of him, he would not even make a dint at surrounding this massive being. The rain was slackening up, even as it continued to trickle steadily through the foliage, the pitter-pattering of water against leaves and the echo of their fall. He wasn't sure why but he opened his mouth, arms spreading outward as if to catch those wayward drops, cool bitter landing on his tongue and lips, leaving him cold but it was a good sort of chill that he felt all the way to his toes, those appendages flexing in the dirt experimentally, digging in. His fingers roved over the uneven ridge of white-brown bark, coarse and brittle, flaking off as his nails skimmed the edges. It made him think of the trees at the Monou shrine but not even those giants of his childhood had a patch on this mammoth.

He was seized with the brief, almost crazed urge to climb it, those knotting branches making his fingers itch and he found himself almost capering at the base, one foot on the root he'd been resting against, half rising when --

The rain stopped.

It was that sudden stop, the total lack of sound that disoriented him, and he glanced down then upward once more with a sort of wistful yearning before hopping to the ground again, the earth sinking around his feet, covering them with a layer of proto-mud. Sunlight streamed gray through the dense cover from above, but it was enough to light the way, the echo of raindrops unnaturally loud, the only discernable sound he could make out. Rubbing his arms, he wandered out, feet pulled onward without his consent, walking without knowing why or where he was going or where he should be and for once not caring, not having to focus or wonder if this step would be the one where he lost all. Once Kamui would not have cared but now … now every decision seemed to settle on his shoulders, heavier than the one before. Even the decision to breathe, to open his eyes, and do those things that should come so naturally took on a new significance, a new sense of duty and responsibility, crushing him under the heft of 'what ifs' his mind could so readily supply. He no longer had the option of letting go, of sleeping his life away, or choosing to give in. There were too many people and too many promises depending on his wish and how best he could bring that about, if at all.

It was enough to make him feel tired again. He trudged further along, watching the filter of light create changing patterns, almost reflections of leaves and fog, an opaque water cloud shimmering as it rose, smelling of ozone and earth, stirred up by the tread of his feet, the arch caked with a thin layer of soil. His hands brushed his bare calves, reveling in the sensation of being able to walk without pain or weakness, the phantom echo of a spike being pushed through his leg sending a tremor though him and he paused, fingers smoothing over that area of skin, the sudden overlay of scarlet-soaked bandages nearly enough to shock him into waking. But it passed and he clung a little tighter to the edges of this dream, fearing the loss of one perfect moment granted to him, an eye in the storm of his being. He wondered if he were to wake now, would he ever be able to come back here or would here, wherever here was, be subsumed in dreams drenched in blood and the clang of a sword, a clarion call that seduced as much as it repelled him? There was no peace in those dreams, only the rise of his spirit to war, the knowledge he had been Chosen, that Destiny or Fate or whatever power there was, had decided that he, Shirou Kamui, would be the decider of how things should be. Of whether human beings would get another chance or if they would fade away, swallowed by the earth they had raped and abused for their own purposes.

He was the Kamui. He had the power to level buildings on a whim, with some of the most powerful beings on earth at his command, but he was also just a regular kid, one who had loved his friends very much and having loved his friends, had watched them sacrificed on the altar of his destiny. A destiny he wanted nothing to do with at all.

But then when had anyone ever thought to offer him that choice?

Was it all already decided? Tokiko had said this was not so but he wondered. Every choice he made seemed to take him one step further to a fight he did not want, to those trumpets and battles he glimpsed in his dreams, broken lives and destroyed hope left in its wake. His spirits sunk lower at the thought, startled when something slick and wet touched his skin, blood smearing through a hole in hand. Lifting it, he glanced at the other, still free of any wound but the skin where there should been a wound had darkened, a shadowy overlay of what should be.

'Here you have only what you carry with you.'

Kamui's head rose sharply, hearing and not hearing, the rustle of the wind in the trees unnaturally loud and for all he could swear he heard words, the voice was sucked dry of emotion in a way nothing human could be, filled with little tremblings and pauses. For the first time, it dawned on him that he might not be so alone as he thought.

'What I carry with me,' he looked at his hand again, rubbing the back of it gingerly. It didn't hurt so much now, as if by the shift of his attention the damage had somehow been lessened. He glanced around, seeing nothing beyond an ever tightening ring of trees, the light here vying outright with the dark as it tried to find ground. What did he carry with him besides memories? Most of those were painful but there were some happy ones, too. Like the memory of Kotori's sweet smile, holding out her hand to him, blond curls gleaming like a sun of their own making. The solid comfort of Fuuma's hand against his shoulder and the knowledge that there would always been someone there to watch his back, to care when no one else would. Or strong arms pulling him close, the sympathy between them so powerful that though he had never met Sumeragi Subaru beyond the walls of his own thought, Kamui knew him, felt so tied to him that feeling had carried over to the waking world even though he hadn't seen the man since he'd collapsed in Kamui's arms.

The thought of Subaru quickened something in him, a sense of wonder at having met someone who could so completely understand him, understand his pain and loss and whom he thought he could understand in return. Not even Fuuma had been able to do that and the thing masquerading as Monou Fuuma while understanding all too well, could only mock him for caring at all. He shivered at the memory of phantom touches, hurtful but no more so than the voice that went along with it, one of a trusted friend turned enemy, slicing through the fabric of his sanity and leaving only tears in his wake.

Somehow, someway, he would make things right away. Or die trying.

"You really should pay attention to where you're going."

Kamui nearly tripped over himself, the sound of a voice, of any voice, startling though this one was airy and mischievous, teasing him with a familiarity that made his throat catch as he steadied himself, turning towards the source of that disturbance.

Kotori. Only--

-- it wasn't. It looked like Kotori, the same spiral of cork screw curls spilling like yellow waves down her back, bright blue eyes twinkling at him but the face -- the face kept shifting, imperceptible changes of light and shadow, shining through her skin as if she were made of glass.

She was also about the size of the width of space between his forefinger and thumb, iridescent wings almost glittering as they beat rapidly, hovering just in front of his nose.

"Ah--"

There was a giggle, tinkling like wind chimes in a summer breeze. "So silly," she -- it -- sobered. "You really should be careful where you stray. Not all paths are safe and if you get off of it, you never can tell what will happen."

"I--I don't understand--" He stammered, while mentally wondering just how many painkillers and sundry drugs it had taken to create this delusion.

"Not yet, you don't. But this is the place where all dreams meet, where the threads join for the briefest of instants. This is a dreaming place, a way place."

"But it's just a dream."

The Kotori thing smiled at him rather sadly, disappointment suffusing her body in pale blues. "Dreams are reflections of wishes and will. Their echo goes on long after the dreamer has done. What is your wish?"

The question was so abrupt he was left speechless for a second. "I -- want to save Fuuma."

Wings fluttering, she lifted above his face, jerking back and to, "That is one wish, yes. When you know your true wish though, then you'll be able to achieve all the others but not until then. Until then stay on the path."

The creature buzzed around his head for a moment or two more, soft gossamer and moonlight in her smile, as if she knew the fate of all things and it pained her but somehow was still able to find some joy. It was not an easy expression and Kamui dropped his eyes, glancing away and needing to reorient himself. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts before speaking again, "But how do I know which path I'm on?"

Silence. He cracked his lids, finding himself alone again, his companion as gone as suddenly as she'd appeared and Kamui wondered if it had even happened at all or if his overtired mind was simply throwing out random images. It would not have surprised him despite the tug of discomfited nostalgia, tiny wings making him think of the birds Kotori had loved so much and he resolved that if he got the chance, he would go visit them for her. It wasn't much but he thought that maybe Kotori would like that.

It wasn't as if he could do anything else for her now.

He continued moving, his eyes raking over the changing surroundings, half-hoping she would return, feeling his loneliness more keenly now and lamenting it for the first time, the wood around him less welcoming than it had been. The trees seemed more desolate here, turning in on themselves in a protective embrace, branches shrinking from the open skies above, tighter and tighter until he found himself having to climb over their roots, shimmying between the spaces and hollows between their bodies, thickets of dried, starving grass almost crunching beneath his toes. The air was humid here, stifling and threatening to steal his breath, leaving a stale taste in his mouth. Kamui felt sluggish, wanting nothing so much as to sink down and rest, but he walked on, pulled by something else, some nagging sense of something undone, something unseen.

The air grew still more brackish, that sour taste tempered with decay, the pungent scent of dying plants and dead earth, wincing as he narrowly avoided a thicket of brambles, rewarded with a set of scratches down his leg for his efforts. He clung to the trunk of a pine, the clean scent of evergreen needles the only breath of freshness here, feeling almost dizzy as he pushed himself forward, stopping short as the path before him widened, revealing a clearing mostly submerged, the dapple of sunlight playing off greenish-clear waters. There were lights hovering above it, fireflies of differing hues -- periwinkle and rose and the deepest silver. Flitting about as they were, he couldn't make out any sort of shape, only the lights themselves, agitated and obviously unhappy, trying to skim the surface of the water but jerking back before they got too close, as if pushed backward by an invisible force. Curious now, if not exercising a little more caution, Kamui approached the shoreline, those lights seeming to notice him for the first time and swirling around uncertainly but not flying away as he had expected. The pond was seething with growth, so much so that he was certain that nothing could live there, dropping to his knees and wondering what it was that had caused such agitation.

What he saw wrung a tiny cry of surprise from him, leading him to hunch forward on both hands.

There was a clearing of water, free of the greenery so prevalent elsewhere, a window to the world below and the water there was so pristine it seemed unreal. Clear straight down to the bottom, Kamui could see the boy, short dark hair floating around his face like sea kelp, his expression serene though there was a tightening around closed eyes that suggested some ancient hurt. He was quite possibly the prettiest boy Kamui had ever seen, mouth a cupid's bow and thick dark lashes resting against fair skin, beautiful long hands suspended above his head, the dark outline of some symbol, something he couldn't quite make out, there. He looked like he was sleeping but he was too still for it to be anything natural and Kamui cried out, surging forward to grasp those upraised hands, his head breaking the placid stillness of the water --

And that was when he woke up.

No sweat-drenched lurch or gasp heralded his awakening, just the fluttering of his lids and the faint paralysis of fear lingering in his muscles, heart beating a touch faster than it should have. The pause between one breath and the next was a little more uneven than it should have been, cool air slicing his lungs as he breathed deeply, reaching up and resting his hand against his eyes, the bandages rough and scratchy against his skin. Everything hurt though through the wonder of painkillers, he felt it only distantly, careful not to shift his leg for fear of jarring it and clearing away some of that gauze separating him from the rest of the world. Opening his eyes, he held his hands up, staring at the crisscross of tape and cloth covering the knuckle, his palms itching if not actually hurting, ignoring the dull ache of his wounded shoulder and elbow. It didn't take much to recall just how agonizing it had been, wrenching his palms against the shards pinning them, yanking himself free in a maddened attempt to reach Kotori, far too late to do anything except cradle her remains.

Story of his life really, always off by a few seconds, never there, never quite doing what he was needed to. These wounds were just the most tangible reminder of that.

And Kotori's absence was the most immediate.

Kamui found his gaze dropping to his side, where Kotori's head had been cradled in the crook of one arm for so long that when they finally removed her, he found himself checking at odd times, expecting to see her face, slack and beautiful, just under his fingertips. And try as he might, he couldn't remember anything but that nightmarish image, the feel of a head and stump cradled against him, skin unnaturally cold and gray. Couldn't remember what it had been like to see her smile or feel her warm and laughing as she threw her arms around him. There was only the emptiness now, the place where she should have been and wasn't. The place where she never would be again.

With some difficulty, he edged away from that thought, mindful of the void he'd slipped into, a vortex of grief and madness, a fall he couldn't afford to take again. Subaru had recovered him the first time but if he were to let go like that again, Kamui couldn't guarantee he could be led out again.

Rubbing at the corner of his eye, he glanced blearily around the room, wondering what time it was, much less what day. His last coherent memory was of Sorata sitting next to him, trying to keep him awake while Yuzuriha shoveled food into his half-open mouth, a warm, salty soup that had burned as it tore down his throat while he hadn't been able to do more than note that sensation. If he remembered rightly, Sorata had said it was Monday then. The space between then and now was more choppy, broken up into fragments of images and voices, the feel of soft fur against his fingers just before a wet nose nuzzled him or a mild voice reading to him, adjusting his glasses as he turned the page. He remembered feeling hot and sick, his head against a soft lap, long black hair floating in and out of his vision as he wretched, insides clenched up so painfully he thought he might die, spewing both vomit and apologies with every heave of his stomach.

He'd have to apologize to Arashi for that later.

But he was alone now, uncertain of whether to be relieved or unhappy at the prospect. While it was nice to not have the others hovering, they were all so full of good intentions it was hard to be angry, even when he wanted nothing more than for them to back off and give him some space. Then again it also meant he had more time to think, to dwell on the memories of what had been and the prospect of what would be stretching out before him. Reminded once again that he was alone and seemed destined to remain that way no matter how many people tried to intervene and change that.

Turning his face towards the curtained window, Kamui let his eyes unfocus until all he saw was a white-gold corona, his mind replaying the conversation he'd had with Subaru about the future and consequences, about making his dreams a reality. He found himself sick again, in a way that had nothing to do with physical nausea, realizing that he could save Fuuma, that maybe he could even win this battle if he chose to but in the end, if he survived, he would lose him all the same. If Fuuma thought he killed Kotori -- His eyes prickled in discomfort and Kamui blinked, a watery film blurring his sight and he drew in a shaky breath. He wouldn't mourn. Not for Fuuma, not yet. He was already doing that for Kotori and if he were do to that for an undecided future, for a friendship not yet lost then maybe he wouldn't have the will to fight. Maybe he would be content to just let himself slip back into that welcoming oblivion.

And maybe he wouldn't even care that everything else would end.

There was a knock at the door, jarring him from his thoughts, and he rolled his head against his pillow just in time to see it crack, a sliver of green visible before the door swung wider, Kamui wishing he could sit up as Sumeragi Subaru inched inside, an expression of polite inquiry on his face as he pressed one hand against the door frame.

"I thought I would check on you -- may I come in?"

Kamui nodded, not trusting his voice just yet, using the time to study the other man, seeing him clearly for the first time. He was younger at first glance than he remembered, his face seeming almost boyish in this light. Taller too, certainly more so than Kamui and he had the vague memory of coming to the other man's shoulder in his mind, at just the right height to rest his head comfortably there. Slender, almost sylph-thin with skin the color of skim milk and brilliant eyes, the same ones he recalled so readily, not quite as stony but still remote and ... 'Unfathomable,' his mind supplied and Kamui made a face, wondering just what sort of books had been read to him while he was sleeping. Standing at the foot of his bed, his hands jammed in his trench coat pockets, Subaru seemed less forbidding now, though no less stern.

Suddenly, Kamui found himself nervous, uncertain of how he was supposed to act or what he should say, at this true meeting, face to face for the first time since Subaru's collapse with the man who had saved him. 'Thank you' was probably a good one while 'What the hell were you thinking?' probably less so.

"Well, this is awkward." Subaru commented at last, his green eyes drifting over Kamui, studying him just as intensely as he himself had been studied.

'That's for damn sure,' Kamui agreed silently, his fingers curling just a little, ignoring the stab of pain that sent through his system. He swallowed, his throat feeling dry, as if it had rusted over after not being used for so long, conscious of how loud each gulp sounded to his ears, "Are--are you better? Have you recovered?"

Subaru nodded, expression seeming to soften just a touch, "Yes, thank you. And you?"

It was all so polite and restrained, he couldn't help but feel off-kilter, missing that sense of closeness and kindred he'd felt when Subaru had been in his mind, the two of them bonded in a second of glorious understanding. Now that connection was ... not lost but neither was it so obviously shared. 'Maybe -- maybe he just said whatever he needed to get me back here again.' The thought was a mean one and Kamui felt ashamed of it, not sure if he was more annoyed at himself for having it or that he felt ashamed he would have it in the first place. 'And I think I just confused myself there,' he breathed in.

"I--" How did one answer that? 'Well, Kotori's dead and her brother's now a mass murdering bastard who'd like nothing better than to lop my head off but I'm just peachy keen swell, don't you know and thank you for asking.' "I'll live. I guess," Kamui half-lifted his lips, a simple twist that felt more like his face was crumbling than smiling, "Right now it seems to be the only thing I can do aside from staying in this damn bed."

There it was again, that careful, measuring look, as if those green eyes were, like the glass they so resembled, cutting him up into tiny pieces and shifting through what was left, judging whether or not it was worthy. He fought hard not to squirm and left torn between wanting desperately to measure up and being furious all over again at that perceived judgement.

Whatever it was, he must have passed inspection because Subaru nodded again, almost to himself, gesturing towards the chair at his bedside, "May I sit?"

That startled him, "Please."

It amazed him how anyone could make something as simple as pulling back a plastic chair look graceful, not so much dropping into the seat of it as engaging in some sort of controlled fall, his coat almost floating around him. Never in a million years could he be so carelessly elegant. It made him feel gauche, coltish and self-conscious, recalling what Subaru had said about being the head of the Sumeragi Clan, the leader of all the onmyouji in Japan. Maybe impeccable manners and self-contained poise had been drummed into him along with all that mystical and occult shit. 'Stuff,' he found himself unconsciously correcting, grateful he hadn't spoken aloud. Still, there was something amusing and fascinating about watching Subaru try and settle himself in the right position, frowning as the chair, some ancient wreck of plastic and metal, looking for all the world as if it had been snatched from a classroom (and for all he knew, it probably had), creaked in protest. Once that was done, Kamui found himself experiencing the full brunt of those unsettling eyes, his smile catching at the corners and he inhaled silently, cursing himself and hoping that Subaru wasn't going to take offense at that.

"I think perhaps we should start again," Subaru spoke, his voice steady, almost lilting. "I'm Sumeragi Subaru, the 13th Head of the Sumeragi Clan and Dragon of Heaven."

It was quite possibly the most singular introduction he'd ever gotten, stated with such seriousness that he couldn't help but feel flustered in response, blushing to the roots. "I-I'm K-kamui," he stuttered, wanting to smack his forehead at how ridiculous he sounded, strengthening his voice, "Shirou Kamui. Also a Dragon of Heaven."

Maybe Fuuma would decide to come for his head now so he wouldn't open his mouth and make himself sound like an even bigger idiot. Maybe, but not likely. Damn it. 'It's not my fault I don't have a spiffy ass title like 13th Head of such and such,' he thought sullenly, 'Although maybe if I ask nicely, Sorata will get me one for Christmas.' No, being the Kamui was a title in and of itself and while it sounded nice, it wasn't terribly impressive in comparison.

Someone like Subaru would probably make a better leader for the Seals, Kamui thought mournfully. He didn't seem like the type to crack under pressure and he certainly gave off a more authoritative air than a jittery sixteen year old boy could ever hope to.

Meanwhile, Subaru had either not noticed his little stutterfest or had chosen to ignore it out of courtesy. He was willing to wager it was the latter rather than the former. "I'm sorry I haven't been to visit you further. I've been ... indisposed."

'Translation, laid up while dragging your ass back into the waking world.' Kamui tried not to grimace, horribly aware of how pathetic he must seem. "No, it's fine. Really. I should have come to visit you after everything you've done but ... Well, I'm kinda stuck here."

The last was said with no small amount of sheepishness coloring it and for some reason that made Subaru smile or come as close to it as he'd yet seen from the other man. Kamui found himself smiling back in response, relaxing just a fraction as he continued. "Anyway ... I'm sorry you were hurt helping me."

"It's not something you should concern yourself over," Subaru replied.

The words were mild, almost tranquil but there was something about them, about the offhanded manner in which they were offered that disturbed Kamui. Given the enormity of the risk Subaru had taken in coming to get him, they seemed almost cavalier, as if the man's own wellbeing was of no consequence at all. As if Subaru thought his own life didn't matter, Kamui realized.

"But I do," Kamui broke the silence, feeling his face flame as those words escaped, Subaru's eyes widening. "I mean, you shouldn't have to suffer or be hurt because of--of me. No one should."

His gaze shifted to the ceiling, staring at the mold of plaster there and wishing the bed would just sink around him and swallow him in the sheets, acutely aware of the other's scrutiny, silent as it was and he wondered when, if ever, he would learn to moderate what he said. It was something his mother had chided him for time and again, shaking her head whenever his 'special' brand of tact landed him in a fist fight or with detention after school. Then again, it had never really mattered then, not after being ripped away from Tokyo, from home and friends, always on the move, his mother keeping them one step ahead of the people and creatures dogging their steps. Because of him, because he was the Kamui, because of what he could do, and because he had a Destiny (spoken in all caps, of course). She'd done the best she could, his mother, but he couldn't help but wonder if in her heart of hearts, if she hadn't resented him, hated him for every disaster and cover blown, forcing them to move because he'd lost his temper, hurting a classmate or potential bully without truly meaning to.

Maybe bursting into flames had been something of a relief after all of that, finally able to stop and rest. After all, she'd done what was required, hadn't she? She'd raised him, given him some minimal control over his abilities and the pieces of his destiny. And maybe by that, she thought she had proven in some way she loved him, but he remembered other things, fearful glances, sharply worded reprimands without explanations. He had never really been allowed the chance to get close to anyone else, not even if he'd wanted to, always kept at arms length from everyone around him. It was her edict that had always forced him home from school early except on those days when he had to stay, never allowing him to go anywhere or speak to anyone they weren't familiar with for very long. She loved him but more than that, she had feared him, feared what he could do and might do, never telling him the entirety of the truth about anything. Some might have argued it was for his own protection, but if he had known ... Could he have saved Fuuma and Kotori? Could he have changed things?

It was useless to think of those things now, to pick apart every second of his life, searching for that one moment, that fatal flaw that had changed everything. Even if he found it, what good would it do? For all his power, he couldn't stop time nor make it work in reverse. If he could ... then maybe all this could be changed. Maybe Kotori would be alive and going to school this morning instead of moldering in the earth, her death hidden and kept quiet from the rest of the world, as if she'd never existed at all. Maybe Subaru would never have lost his sister and the Sakurazukamori would have loved him.

He was powerful, yes but those powers had limitations, restrictions placed upon what he could and couldn't do. The dead would stay dead and all the past could do was echo back into the present and future.

"No one should," he whispered again, turning his face so that his cheek rested against his pillow, looking at Subaru, as if he could give him some sort of answer, "But they do. And I can't do a damn thing to stop it at all."

The words slipped out, hot and miserable and he found himself mortified, turning his face again, wishing that Subaru would just go away. He didn't have it in him to be tactful tonight and he couldn't guard against those fears and hurts gnawing away at what was left of his heart. Raising his hand so that his fingers were resting against his mouth, he wished he could summon up enough strength to scream, to do whatever it would take to chase Subaru from him, fearing this closeness he felt, fearing this man and his silent sympathy. He had given out so much of himself already, Kamui wasn't sure he could stand handing out another piece, hoping that this time someone would take it and not abuse it, would not leave him behind.

When the chair creaked, he had a mixed moment of both relief and despair, thinking perhaps Subaru had taken his actions as an excuse to leave, no doubt pleased to make his escape. Kamui couldn't even blame him for that. In his position, he probably wouldn't have wanted to deal with a bratty sixteen year old kid either, certainly not one who had disappointed the hopes of everyone he'd ever met.

He was therefore surprised when cool fingers brushed left cheek, just below his left eye, as if to brush at nonexistent tears and his breath caught, Kamui turning his face into that gentle touch. Subaru's face was kind, almost compassionate as his fingers skimmed across Kamui's skin, an unexpectedly familiar gesture, more comforting than it should have been. He closed his eyes, swallowing again, half afraid because the last people who had touched him so easily, without fear or restraint, no longer existed. If it happened again, if the curse of his life extended outward to claim someone else ... Well, he wasn't sure what he would do.

"Kamui," Subaru's voice was low, lacking the formality of just minutes earlier, more personal and he realized for the first time since he'd been in his coma, Subaru had called him by name. "Not everything that happens is because of you. Nor is it your responsibility. Sometimes ... sometimes, things do just happen."

"For no reason?" He wanted to shake his head but didn't, instead letting Subaru tip his chin upward so that he had to look at the other man. "I can't believe that. I can't believe that things are just so -- random and --"

"Unfair?"

"Yes."

Subaru's eyes were distant for a moment, deep in thought before he removed his hand, gesturing towards the edge of the mattress. "May I?"

He just continued to surprise, Kamui thought, nodding after some hesitation, feeling the bed dip as Subaru sat down beside him. The Sumeragi was quiet as he reached out to take Kamui's hand, rubbing his thumb over bandaged knuckles "You are possessed of great powers, Kamui, and there are many things that you can and will do in your life, choices that you will have to make but there are times that no matter how hard we try, how much we give of ourselves, the outcome can't be changed. And that's no fault of yours, should that prove to be the case. The most we can do is try our very best and hope that in the end, it will count for something."

"And if it doesn't?" His voice was shaking, but Kamui found he didn't care, feeling small and childish and wanting desperately for -- not comfort but truth. Truths that had been hidden and sheltered from him all his life, the lies woven around him so thick that he couldn't even begin to guess how to untangle them.

"Then -- I don't know," Subaru confessed, squeezing his fingers with infinitesimal care, so lightly that Kamui almost didn't feel it. "But I would rather try to achieve what I want the most than give up because of mights or might nots. Wouldn't you?"

There wasn't really much he could say to that, nodding and feeling more of that comfortable numbness melting away, the world pressing in all too keenly and as much as he wanted to shy away from it, Kamui knew he couldn't. Life, like it or not, was moving on and he had no choice but to move with it, the chance to stop already passed. He'd surrendered that choice, that chance, the moment Subaru pulled him into his arms, glimpsing Fuuma across the dark midnight of his dreams. Destiny had a pattern and a weave and his thread was not yet done, not ready to be tied off, and from here on in, things were only going to get more complicated.

"I don't--don't know what to do," Kamui admitted, after some time, still clinging to Subaru's hand, the warmth of it grounding him in something besides the hurt. "I know -- I'm supposed to be some sort of leader but I don't know how. I've never led anyone and I wouldn’t even know how to start."

"You came back," Subaru pointed out, shifting, "You chose not to give up. That's as good a starting point as any. No one expects more of you than you can give, Kamui.

'But they do,' Kamui thought. It wasn't said so much in words but he could see it in their eyes, Arashi's and Sorata's and even Yuzuriha's -- they all expected something from him, something that he wasn't sure he could even begin to handle. He wasn't a war leader and his control over himself and his abilities was spotty at best. He'd never been trained to make tactical decisions and he wasn't sure he could be anywhere near as dispassionate and level as Subaru, not even if he tried. For the mythical Chosen One, he was a piss-poor candidate, stuck in a position he had neither sought nor wanted. And having it thrust upon him so, he couldn't help but feel that he was floundering, caught in quicksand that threatened to swallow him whole with each attempt at maneuvering.

"Besides," Subaru continued, his emerald eyes serious, "What others think shouldn't matter. In the end, it's your own conscience you have to answer to. There will be times when people, even the other Seals, may not understand your choices, Kamui. That doesn't make you wrong, it just means that you may have to go your own way, bear the responsibility for what you choose, and above all, understand that with every choice comes a price."

"Is that what you're doing with the Sakurazukamori?" Kamui bit his lip, instantly regretting he'd said anything at all, adding hurriedly, "It just seems ... like you're speaking from experience."

There was a flicker of -- some emotion, raw and dark, flickering across the Sumeragi's face, swallowed up again by that ocean of unending calm, verdant eyes so dark they appeared almost black as Subaru turned his head, staring at the lattice of curtain lace adorning the window, his grip on Kamui's hand tightening. "I suppose I am. My family ... they don't approve. They believe that I should suck it up and come home, carry on as befits the head of the family, and not chase after Seishirou-san. But I--" he paused, face tightening as if he'd forgotten Kamui was even there, speaking almost to himself. "Can't do that. I can't just forget what he did, that Hokuto died because of me. And I can't let him forget it either because if I do then what did it mean? What did any of it mean?

Subaru fell silent, so still that Kamui ached to move or say something, anything to alleviate this painful tension. And then Subaru spoke again, "I'm not even sure what it is I feel for him anymore. Not love -- not for the thing he is. For what he was ... We were children and we thought that the fun would never stop and we let him in. We let him in and all I can think is that I knew better, I did. But I let it happen anyway."

Kamui honestly didn't know what to say, a tight knot in his chest forming, but not for himself. No, this was not like the self-pity he'd been wallowing in for so long, but rather pity for another person, for someone else's suffering and it was infinitely more hurtful, unused to such an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Of wanting to do something and knowing there was nothing at all he could do, nothing that would ease Subaru's suffering and he reached down, covering Subaru's hand with his free hand, feeling the other tense up, stiffening as if by that simple touch he'd been recalled from where ever it was his thoughts had gone. Kamui's breath caught as Subaru's head inclined towards him, caught in profile, a gaping wound visible in his gaze, one that had never healed and maybe never would, gray shadows writhing against a canvas of white skin, making him appear as if he'd been sculpted, carved out of the finest marble, the only color in his face that of his eyes and the rose of his lips.

How odd that something so destroyed, so broken, could still be beautiful.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he instantly despised himself for it, for letting himself focus on anything other than the sorrow Subaru wore so close, hidden beneath a veneer of calm uncaring, a wall of ice that kept him separate from every living thing. That kept him frozen forever in a moment, not moving forward as he'd urged Kamui to do and instead of being angry at that little hypocrisy, he found himself drawn, wishing he could do something to help, to banish it and find some means of setting Subaru free, just as the Sumeragi had done for him.

"And now I fear I must apologize. I'm burdening you with things you don't need," Subaru sounded stiff, his grasp lax in Kamui's, and it didn't take a genius to realize he was embarrassed.

"No," The word was firm, spoken sharply enough that Subaru blinked. "No, you don't ever have to apologize. Not to me. Not about that," Kamui felt himself flushing all over again, but he bore it this time, needing to say this. "You--you helped me. And you've given me someone to talk to -- who understands and if I can do the same -- if I can do the same, then I hope you'll let me."

He thought before he had glimpsed a smile from Subaru but he realized he'd been wrong. So very wrong. What he had seen was nothing but a pale comparison in the rise of color crawling up Subaru's neck, a fierce flush that seemed an echo of his own, the Sumeragi's head turning towards him, a slow smile touching his lips, tugging them upward. It was a sweet expression, almost shy, and so at odds with everything he'd seen from the other man thus far that Kamui couldn't help but stare.

"Thank you," Subaru murmured, seeming as if he wanted to say more. "I'll keep that in mind."

It was a start at least.

"But for now," And something of the color began draining away from Subaru's face, the smile there still but more subdued, "I think you should probably rest. I've tired you out enough for one day."

Kamui wanted to protest, really he did but after being strung so tightly for the last few minutes, this sudden respite came with a wave of tiredness, feeling pleasantly limp and basking in the glow of having at least made someone happy, even if it was for a little while. "But you'll come back?" he asked, sleepily.

Fingers combed through his hair, pushing sweat-dampened locks back as Subaru nodded. "I'll come back. But later."

He got up to leave, the spot where he'd been suddenly cold as the bed rolled and then bounced upward. Kamui watched through slitted lids as Subaru tugged the covers up over him, enjoying the attention, wishing he felt bold enough to ask him to stay, to sit with him but he'd imposed enough for one day. Maybe another time, he thought.

Another time. That made his smile widen.

Subaru paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder, "Pleasant dreams, Kamui."

Kamui nodded in return then thought of something else, "Subaru?"

The Sumeragi paused, his hand on the door, watching him curiously, "Yes?"

"Do you dream?" The question was odd and he wasn't sure what prompted him to ask it, save some nagging impulse that seemed to have taken control of his mouth.

Surprise was quickly replaced by something almost sad, wistful and lost as Subaru shook his head. "No, Kamui. I never dream anymore. I can only remember."

His throat closed up and he found himself raising up on his good elbow as Subaru moved to leave again, "Then--I'll dream for you."

'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' he cursed himself. Oh why had he said that? What in the world had possessed him to --

But Subaru only blinked and inclined his head, a hint of bashful amusement returning, "Then I really will have to return, won't I? So you can tell me what my dreams are."

His discomfort evaporated and he let go of the bed sheets he'd been threading, nodding, lying back as the door shut, green eyes holding his for the briefest of instants and Kamui wondered, if he went to sleep, would he someday meet Subaru in a dream?

Kamui let out a slow breath, closing his eyes and hoped ... hoped that one day it would be so.

***End

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