More nameless fic
Sep. 21st, 2006 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sakon76Been a while since I've written on this, but today I decided to transfer the two scenes I had on my portable drive onto the main file, and then I just started writing....
As a note, the Kenshin in here is borrowed from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hoshikage's story "Brothers in Arms" which explains a few things about (1) Kenshin, and (2) his resemblance to a certain fox spirit, and brings the former reasonably and explainably into the modern period. Unfortunately since her site is down I can't link to said story at the moment. And I haven't actually got her permission yet... ah well, I'll ask when I pick her up in about an hour, and if she says no, I'll rewrite. That's what the backspace key is for, after all.
As he fell free through the sky, wind rushing past his face, Subaru thought for an instant of Kaoruko. Would it scare her, what he could do? What he was? Would she turn away in judgment or condemnation if he told her about Seishirou and about being the Sakurazukamori? She was a police detective and the aunt of Sakon, who believed in justice so purely that it was almost painful. But people were almost never as one-sided as they seemed.
If he asked her, knowing everything, what would she reply?
There would be few if any among the Sumeragi who would question Subaru’s choice if he did ask Kaoruko to be his wife. They would look at the union as a way of binding to the Sumeragi the clan that had produced a powerful wild talent. The Tachibanas were respectable, even if they were performers. And thank Amaterasu, some would say, that the head of the clan was finally settling down to marry and pass along his knowledge and power to another generation.
But would it be fair to Kaoruko, Subaru wondered, to bring her into a family where rivalries and jealousies and danger from the shadows stretched back nearly a thousand years? Would it be right to bring her to into an entire clan of people who saw, spoke with, and acted upon forces that were entirely invisible to her? To make her live among things that she might never understand? Perhaps it would be better to end things gently and marry back into the clan instead, to take as a wife a distant Sumeragi cousin.
But... she was like Hokuto, brightness and life and wit. And Subaru, by power and position and all the things he’d been shaped to become, lived in black and white and among the infinite grays of death. He needed color to balance him and remind him that not everything was as the Sumeragi and Sakurazukamori would have it be. It was perhaps why Hokuto had been the way she had, his balance, the yin to his yang: onmyoudou twins.
If Subaru asked Kaoruko, it would only be once she had full knowledge of the person he was and the forces that acted upon him. And if she agreed… then perhaps someday there might be another set of twins, dark-haired with odd eyes, skilled in magic and puppetry, knowing the world’s shadows but also its sources of light.
He could hope.
*
The old puppet turned its head to look Sakon in the eye. His own eyes widened as he realized that it was doing so independently of his control. “So, boy,” the samurai commented, “you toil here whilst thy master ventures into peril.” An accusing hand raised. “A poor prentice you are, and little thanks given to his effort.”
By now, Sakon noticed with the part of his self that wasn’t concentrating on the puppet, the second and third performer had backed away as the puppet moved without their control. Their eyes were wide and saying what they thought—Sakon might be a natural at puppetry, but it was physically impossible for him to be moving the puppet like this by himself. He wondered mildly why they never noticed that when it was Ukon he was channeling. “My master?” he asked to clarify, for he had several. His judo instructor he discarded; the puppet wasn’t likely to be interested in him, and in any case he couldn’t picture Tamura-sensei seeking trouble. And Sakon’s grandfather he could see sitting in the second row, watching him. That left.... “Sumeragi-sensei?”
“A poor pupil,” the puppet repeated, “to abandon a master into the hands of a murderer alone.”
Sakon’s breath caught for an instant before he reminded himself of Subaru’s power and mastery. He shouldn’t be worried, but as he sought at the back of his mind for that sense of the Sumeragi’s power, he found it cloaked and barely a whisper even to his seeking mind.
/Play the role,/ he reminded himself. The puppets only saw the world in such terms. He bowed. “Thank you for your warning and advice, noble sir,” he replied. “I go now to my master’s aid.” He beckoned his second forward and hastily disengaged from the puppet, handing it to the man.
Akihara stared at him. “Sakon-san,” he said.
“Later,” Sakon said, already opening Ukon’s box where it rested at the corner of the stage.
“What’s wrong?” Saemon asked, standing.
“Somethin’s wrong where Sumeragi-sensee is,” Ukon replied for the both of them.
“If the puppets think we should be there...” Sakon said, suddenly hesitating, realizing what this was looking like to his fellow performers, who were, to a man, all staring at him.
“Go,” Saemon instructed with a wave of his cane.
“Yessir!” Ukon replied, and then they were running to the nearest train station.
Behind them, Sakon could hear his grandfather clear his throat and start critiquing the practice thus far.
*
The door to the chapel sent echoes through the small building as it was slammed open. Hisoka winced at the lack of subtlety, but admitted there was no point to it. Muraki knew they were coming. “Muraki!” Tsuzuki yelled, stepping forward. “Come out and face us!”
A girlish giggle answered him, echoing through the darkening building as well. Hisoka looked wildly around—had Muraki taken a child after all, as a shield or a weapon? But then he remembered to center himself, to search for the source of the emotion-ripples, their center....
A doll stepped out from between two of the pews into the center aisle. “You’re looking for Kazutaka-san?” she asked sweetly. Hisoka stared. A doll...?
She smiled. “Then one of you would be the one he wants.” And Hisoka had just enough time to cognitize her intent and /move/, tackling Tsuzuki to the ground as a hail of razor-sharp black feathers sliced through where they’d both been standing.
They rolled almost automatically in separate directions, Hisoka taking cover behind the baptismal font and Tsuzuki behind a pew as another sheaf of feathers cut into the ground where they’d been, the doll hovering in mid-air, a look of dire concentration on her face. “Byakko!” Tsuzuki called, summoning his shikigami. Byakko appeared just in time, his thick fur blocking the next tirade of black feathers. The white tiger turned and glared at the doll as Tsuzuki’s hand threaded through his fur.
“So you’re the one,” the doll said quietly. “And he is insignificant.” Her gaze sharpened. “You won’t find me easy to get past.” She held up her left hand and there was a ring on her ring finger. She smiled as though it was significant. “You won’t get past me at all,” she said quietly.
*
Jun shivered and sneezed. The wind in this place wasn’t a lot, but it was going right through him. He held Shinku a little closer and wished he had a jacket to wrap around them both. She was dressed in heavy velvet, but she was so small that she had to be even colder than he was. He rubbed at his nose and wished again for Holie to hurry back because he wanted out of here.
Shinku placed a hand on his cheek. “Are you all right, Jun?” she asked, her expression concerned.
“Fine. Just wondering why we’re going after her if her heart’s this cold,” he replied.
Shinku’s face turned sad and she looked down. “She’s not cold,” she responded. “Look around, Jun. More than anything else, this place is empty. Suigintou has never felt loved.”
Jun looked around again, reassessing. Broken dolls, broken buildings, nothing green and growing. Suiseiseki and Soiseiseki would have been appalled. Hinaichigo would have been frightened, clinging to his leg.
If no one had ever loved Shinku, he suddenly realized, her inner landscape might have been just the same. She and Suigintou might have been reversed.
The thought made something in his chest hurt, stealing his breath away.
“Jun?” Shinku asked. She sounded concerned.
“It’s nothing,” he managed. “Look, it’s Holie.”
The sprite returned to its mistress’ hands. She consulted wordlessly with it, then looked up. “She’s found Suigintou’s exit point,” she said. “She’ll lead us there.” And then the sprite flew back out of her hands and led the way. Jun followed, picking a careful path as the broken dolls crunched underfoot.
*
Yuusuke loved the sunset, the way it caught Tokyo’s sky on fire and the way it made for his busiest time of day, salarymen lined up three to five deep, eating a quick dinner before going out on rounds of drinking and karaoke or packing into trains like sardines in order to commute home. He kept up a cheerful smile and if his hands were just a bit faster than a normal ramen stall owner’s would be, well, no one noticed or at least they didn’t comment since they got their food that much faster. He kind of thought ‘Baa-chan would be amused at what he was doing with what she’d taught him anyway. She’d liked a good bowl of ramen once in a while. Usually after pounding him into the ground in Street Fighter.
Tucked into the corner of his booth, having grabbed the last two seats before the crowd really hit, Kuwabara and Kenshin huddled over a map, the latter holding a carved jade pendant above it. “Dowsing?” Yuusuke asked between handing out piping hot bowls of noodles and broth.
Kenshin nodded, not looking up in concentration.
“Fireworks,” Kuwabara explained instead. “Southwest of here, close as we can figure.”
Fireworks? Well, it was nothing Koenma’d felt the need to call them in for, so Yuusuke wasn’t too worried. The brat almost certainly had someone else on it. “Anyone we know?” he asked, ladling more noodles into another bowl, slicing mushrooms quickly to go in.
“Kurosaki-san and Tsuzuki-san,” Kuwabara answered.
“And Sumeragi-san,” Kenshin answered, still not looking up. “Ah. The hospital.” He tucked the map and pendant away in his kimono sleeve and picked up his bowl again, slurping at the broth.
“Wait, that’s it?” Kuwabara demanded.
Large purple eyes blinked at him. “There should be anything else?”
Kuwabara’s fist pounded on the counter, startling the salarymen nearest him. “Hell, yes! Like who they’re fighting!”
Kenshin looked wide-eyed and surprised at the salarymen now looking at the two of them. “Ano... it’s a LARP?” he suggested.
The salarymen returned to their eating.
“So?” Yuusuke asked, handing out another bowl of yasai ramen with a murmured “Here you go.”
“The white snake,” Kenshin said calmly. “A poisonous doctor.”
“Aw, fuckety,” Yuusuke muttered, having an idea about the shinigamis’ history with the man in question. Kurama’d “borrowed” some of Koenma’s files after the two started frequenting Yuusuke’s booth, and dropped some tidbits here and there in conversation. He spared a glance to the southwest. “Well, here’s to hoping they can handle it.”
“Fireworks,” Kuwabara muttered again, shook his head, and reapplied himself to his ramen. Like it was a tournament, this wasn’t their time in the ring. The shinigami and the onmyouji would handle it themselves. Koenma wouldn’t have sent them in if he thought they couldn’t.
“Yo, anybody need seconds?” Yuusuke called out instead, applying himself to his job. “Anyone want a beer?”
*
Suigintou laughed. The beast the undead man had summoned was reduced to defense. She felt Kazutaka’s power flowing through her, sweet and rich, deep and strong. She wondered if this might not be the feeling of wine or brandy, intoxicating, invigorating. She wondered if she was drunk on the power and laughed again, casually sending another wave of feathers at the partner, keeping him pinned in the corner. She could feel his fury trying to eat away at her, but Kazutaka had warned her about the empath and listed his weaknesses. And somewhere behind her, she could feel Kazutaka’s smile of approval, a fresh wave of power surging to her to use.
And then... a shimmer.
She whirled to look as two forms faded in before the sunset-lit stained glass window, gently floating down until the feet of the larger touched the ground.
Jun Sakurada, and in his arms, Shinku.
The blonde doll looked at Suigintou from within the hold of her medium and said quietly, “Suigintou. Stop this.”
Suigintou’s surprise turned easily to rage. She needed Meg back, and Shinku was not going to stand in the way. With a scream, she turned her attack onto her sister. Shinku responded with a shielding flurry of rose petals, and her medium hurridly positioned the both of them behind the altar.
*
“She’s not very good at protecting herself on all fronts, is she?” Subaru asked quietly from behind Tsuzuki, having come in the side door.
The shinigami didn’t even twitch, though his shikigami, of a different type than Subaru’s, did look the onmyouji up and down once before deciding they were on the same side. “No. Do you think she’s covering for Muraki’s escape?”
“Muraki’s still here,” Hisoka said, walking over. He favored his right arm and Subaru could see where a black feather must have caught him in the shoulder. He’d pulled it out, though, and beneath the bloodstained shirt undead flesh knitted itself back together.
“He hasn’t left,” Subaru confirmed. “My wards haven’t been set off.” He’d spent a few minutes setting a perimeter, both to keep Muraki from leaving until the mission was settled, and to keep the damage to a minimum. He knew the doctor was good, but he’d had to be beyond good to get past Subaru’s spell without alerting him. Even Seishirou couldn’t have done it these days.
Subaru stifled the ache that thought briefly kindled in him. It was gone, it was past, let it go. Forgive, though never, ever forget.
“So where is he hiding?” the tiger rumbled.
“You find him,” Subaru said, his eyes on the doll hovering in mid-air, and on the boy and the other doll cowering behind the altar. “I’ll help them.”
Tsuzuki looked at him for a minute, then nodded. “Right,” he said. “Hisoka? Byakko?”
Subaru blinked. Tsuzuki’s shinigami was one of the four...?
A smile caught the corner of his mouth. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.
As a note, the Kenshin in here is borrowed from
hoshikage's story "Brothers in Arms" which explains a few things about (1) Kenshin, and (2) his resemblance to a certain fox spirit, and brings the former reasonably and explainably into the modern period. Unfortunately since her site is down I can't link to said story at the moment. And I haven't actually got her permission yet... ah well, I'll ask when I pick her up in about an hour, and if she says no, I'll rewrite. That's what the backspace key is for, after all.As he fell free through the sky, wind rushing past his face, Subaru thought for an instant of Kaoruko. Would it scare her, what he could do? What he was? Would she turn away in judgment or condemnation if he told her about Seishirou and about being the Sakurazukamori? She was a police detective and the aunt of Sakon, who believed in justice so purely that it was almost painful. But people were almost never as one-sided as they seemed.
If he asked her, knowing everything, what would she reply?
There would be few if any among the Sumeragi who would question Subaru’s choice if he did ask Kaoruko to be his wife. They would look at the union as a way of binding to the Sumeragi the clan that had produced a powerful wild talent. The Tachibanas were respectable, even if they were performers. And thank Amaterasu, some would say, that the head of the clan was finally settling down to marry and pass along his knowledge and power to another generation.
But would it be fair to Kaoruko, Subaru wondered, to bring her into a family where rivalries and jealousies and danger from the shadows stretched back nearly a thousand years? Would it be right to bring her to into an entire clan of people who saw, spoke with, and acted upon forces that were entirely invisible to her? To make her live among things that she might never understand? Perhaps it would be better to end things gently and marry back into the clan instead, to take as a wife a distant Sumeragi cousin.
But... she was like Hokuto, brightness and life and wit. And Subaru, by power and position and all the things he’d been shaped to become, lived in black and white and among the infinite grays of death. He needed color to balance him and remind him that not everything was as the Sumeragi and Sakurazukamori would have it be. It was perhaps why Hokuto had been the way she had, his balance, the yin to his yang: onmyoudou twins.
If Subaru asked Kaoruko, it would only be once she had full knowledge of the person he was and the forces that acted upon him. And if she agreed… then perhaps someday there might be another set of twins, dark-haired with odd eyes, skilled in magic and puppetry, knowing the world’s shadows but also its sources of light.
He could hope.
The old puppet turned its head to look Sakon in the eye. His own eyes widened as he realized that it was doing so independently of his control. “So, boy,” the samurai commented, “you toil here whilst thy master ventures into peril.” An accusing hand raised. “A poor prentice you are, and little thanks given to his effort.”
By now, Sakon noticed with the part of his self that wasn’t concentrating on the puppet, the second and third performer had backed away as the puppet moved without their control. Their eyes were wide and saying what they thought—Sakon might be a natural at puppetry, but it was physically impossible for him to be moving the puppet like this by himself. He wondered mildly why they never noticed that when it was Ukon he was channeling. “My master?” he asked to clarify, for he had several. His judo instructor he discarded; the puppet wasn’t likely to be interested in him, and in any case he couldn’t picture Tamura-sensei seeking trouble. And Sakon’s grandfather he could see sitting in the second row, watching him. That left.... “Sumeragi-sensei?”
“A poor pupil,” the puppet repeated, “to abandon a master into the hands of a murderer alone.”
Sakon’s breath caught for an instant before he reminded himself of Subaru’s power and mastery. He shouldn’t be worried, but as he sought at the back of his mind for that sense of the Sumeragi’s power, he found it cloaked and barely a whisper even to his seeking mind.
/Play the role,/ he reminded himself. The puppets only saw the world in such terms. He bowed. “Thank you for your warning and advice, noble sir,” he replied. “I go now to my master’s aid.” He beckoned his second forward and hastily disengaged from the puppet, handing it to the man.
Akihara stared at him. “Sakon-san,” he said.
“Later,” Sakon said, already opening Ukon’s box where it rested at the corner of the stage.
“What’s wrong?” Saemon asked, standing.
“Somethin’s wrong where Sumeragi-sensee is,” Ukon replied for the both of them.
“If the puppets think we should be there...” Sakon said, suddenly hesitating, realizing what this was looking like to his fellow performers, who were, to a man, all staring at him.
“Go,” Saemon instructed with a wave of his cane.
“Yessir!” Ukon replied, and then they were running to the nearest train station.
Behind them, Sakon could hear his grandfather clear his throat and start critiquing the practice thus far.
The door to the chapel sent echoes through the small building as it was slammed open. Hisoka winced at the lack of subtlety, but admitted there was no point to it. Muraki knew they were coming. “Muraki!” Tsuzuki yelled, stepping forward. “Come out and face us!”
A girlish giggle answered him, echoing through the darkening building as well. Hisoka looked wildly around—had Muraki taken a child after all, as a shield or a weapon? But then he remembered to center himself, to search for the source of the emotion-ripples, their center....
A doll stepped out from between two of the pews into the center aisle. “You’re looking for Kazutaka-san?” she asked sweetly. Hisoka stared. A doll...?
She smiled. “Then one of you would be the one he wants.” And Hisoka had just enough time to cognitize her intent and /move/, tackling Tsuzuki to the ground as a hail of razor-sharp black feathers sliced through where they’d both been standing.
They rolled almost automatically in separate directions, Hisoka taking cover behind the baptismal font and Tsuzuki behind a pew as another sheaf of feathers cut into the ground where they’d been, the doll hovering in mid-air, a look of dire concentration on her face. “Byakko!” Tsuzuki called, summoning his shikigami. Byakko appeared just in time, his thick fur blocking the next tirade of black feathers. The white tiger turned and glared at the doll as Tsuzuki’s hand threaded through his fur.
“So you’re the one,” the doll said quietly. “And he is insignificant.” Her gaze sharpened. “You won’t find me easy to get past.” She held up her left hand and there was a ring on her ring finger. She smiled as though it was significant. “You won’t get past me at all,” she said quietly.
Jun shivered and sneezed. The wind in this place wasn’t a lot, but it was going right through him. He held Shinku a little closer and wished he had a jacket to wrap around them both. She was dressed in heavy velvet, but she was so small that she had to be even colder than he was. He rubbed at his nose and wished again for Holie to hurry back because he wanted out of here.
Shinku placed a hand on his cheek. “Are you all right, Jun?” she asked, her expression concerned.
“Fine. Just wondering why we’re going after her if her heart’s this cold,” he replied.
Shinku’s face turned sad and she looked down. “She’s not cold,” she responded. “Look around, Jun. More than anything else, this place is empty. Suigintou has never felt loved.”
Jun looked around again, reassessing. Broken dolls, broken buildings, nothing green and growing. Suiseiseki and Soiseiseki would have been appalled. Hinaichigo would have been frightened, clinging to his leg.
If no one had ever loved Shinku, he suddenly realized, her inner landscape might have been just the same. She and Suigintou might have been reversed.
The thought made something in his chest hurt, stealing his breath away.
“Jun?” Shinku asked. She sounded concerned.
“It’s nothing,” he managed. “Look, it’s Holie.”
The sprite returned to its mistress’ hands. She consulted wordlessly with it, then looked up. “She’s found Suigintou’s exit point,” she said. “She’ll lead us there.” And then the sprite flew back out of her hands and led the way. Jun followed, picking a careful path as the broken dolls crunched underfoot.
Yuusuke loved the sunset, the way it caught Tokyo’s sky on fire and the way it made for his busiest time of day, salarymen lined up three to five deep, eating a quick dinner before going out on rounds of drinking and karaoke or packing into trains like sardines in order to commute home. He kept up a cheerful smile and if his hands were just a bit faster than a normal ramen stall owner’s would be, well, no one noticed or at least they didn’t comment since they got their food that much faster. He kind of thought ‘Baa-chan would be amused at what he was doing with what she’d taught him anyway. She’d liked a good bowl of ramen once in a while. Usually after pounding him into the ground in Street Fighter.
Tucked into the corner of his booth, having grabbed the last two seats before the crowd really hit, Kuwabara and Kenshin huddled over a map, the latter holding a carved jade pendant above it. “Dowsing?” Yuusuke asked between handing out piping hot bowls of noodles and broth.
Kenshin nodded, not looking up in concentration.
“Fireworks,” Kuwabara explained instead. “Southwest of here, close as we can figure.”
Fireworks? Well, it was nothing Koenma’d felt the need to call them in for, so Yuusuke wasn’t too worried. The brat almost certainly had someone else on it. “Anyone we know?” he asked, ladling more noodles into another bowl, slicing mushrooms quickly to go in.
“Kurosaki-san and Tsuzuki-san,” Kuwabara answered.
“And Sumeragi-san,” Kenshin answered, still not looking up. “Ah. The hospital.” He tucked the map and pendant away in his kimono sleeve and picked up his bowl again, slurping at the broth.
“Wait, that’s it?” Kuwabara demanded.
Large purple eyes blinked at him. “There should be anything else?”
Kuwabara’s fist pounded on the counter, startling the salarymen nearest him. “Hell, yes! Like who they’re fighting!”
Kenshin looked wide-eyed and surprised at the salarymen now looking at the two of them. “Ano... it’s a LARP?” he suggested.
The salarymen returned to their eating.
“So?” Yuusuke asked, handing out another bowl of yasai ramen with a murmured “Here you go.”
“The white snake,” Kenshin said calmly. “A poisonous doctor.”
“Aw, fuckety,” Yuusuke muttered, having an idea about the shinigamis’ history with the man in question. Kurama’d “borrowed” some of Koenma’s files after the two started frequenting Yuusuke’s booth, and dropped some tidbits here and there in conversation. He spared a glance to the southwest. “Well, here’s to hoping they can handle it.”
“Fireworks,” Kuwabara muttered again, shook his head, and reapplied himself to his ramen. Like it was a tournament, this wasn’t their time in the ring. The shinigami and the onmyouji would handle it themselves. Koenma wouldn’t have sent them in if he thought they couldn’t.
“Yo, anybody need seconds?” Yuusuke called out instead, applying himself to his job. “Anyone want a beer?”
Suigintou laughed. The beast the undead man had summoned was reduced to defense. She felt Kazutaka’s power flowing through her, sweet and rich, deep and strong. She wondered if this might not be the feeling of wine or brandy, intoxicating, invigorating. She wondered if she was drunk on the power and laughed again, casually sending another wave of feathers at the partner, keeping him pinned in the corner. She could feel his fury trying to eat away at her, but Kazutaka had warned her about the empath and listed his weaknesses. And somewhere behind her, she could feel Kazutaka’s smile of approval, a fresh wave of power surging to her to use.
And then... a shimmer.
She whirled to look as two forms faded in before the sunset-lit stained glass window, gently floating down until the feet of the larger touched the ground.
Jun Sakurada, and in his arms, Shinku.
The blonde doll looked at Suigintou from within the hold of her medium and said quietly, “Suigintou. Stop this.”
Suigintou’s surprise turned easily to rage. She needed Meg back, and Shinku was not going to stand in the way. With a scream, she turned her attack onto her sister. Shinku responded with a shielding flurry of rose petals, and her medium hurridly positioned the both of them behind the altar.
“She’s not very good at protecting herself on all fronts, is she?” Subaru asked quietly from behind Tsuzuki, having come in the side door.
The shinigami didn’t even twitch, though his shikigami, of a different type than Subaru’s, did look the onmyouji up and down once before deciding they were on the same side. “No. Do you think she’s covering for Muraki’s escape?”
“Muraki’s still here,” Hisoka said, walking over. He favored his right arm and Subaru could see where a black feather must have caught him in the shoulder. He’d pulled it out, though, and beneath the bloodstained shirt undead flesh knitted itself back together.
“He hasn’t left,” Subaru confirmed. “My wards haven’t been set off.” He’d spent a few minutes setting a perimeter, both to keep Muraki from leaving until the mission was settled, and to keep the damage to a minimum. He knew the doctor was good, but he’d had to be beyond good to get past Subaru’s spell without alerting him. Even Seishirou couldn’t have done it these days.
Subaru stifled the ache that thought briefly kindled in him. It was gone, it was past, let it go. Forgive, though never, ever forget.
“So where is he hiding?” the tiger rumbled.
“You find him,” Subaru said, his eyes on the doll hovering in mid-air, and on the boy and the other doll cowering behind the altar. “I’ll help them.”
Tsuzuki looked at him for a minute, then nodded. “Right,” he said. “Hisoka? Byakko?”
Subaru blinked. Tsuzuki’s shinigami was one of the four...?
A smile caught the corner of his mouth. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.
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Date: 2006-09-22 04:05 pm (UTC)I loved the part with Subaru's dilemma in the beginning -- so nice to see him *getting on with life* and having found an almost perfect match, someone from a magical family who reminds him of Hokuto. The thing with her being a detective and him being the Sakurazukamori, though . . . that's almost worth expanding into a fic on its own.