(no subject)
ONE FUCKING MORE STORY AND SPRINGKINK IS DONE. Why the fuck do I always get myself to do this?
Because I'm crazy, that's why.
Meanwhile, it's time to clean the "Never Going To Be Finished" Fic Folder:
I can't quite remember why I was writing this one, which is why it's still unfinished. Spazzing about with either reversedhymnal or telrunya, most likely? Anyway, I totally forgot what I wanted to do with this story, so.
"I feel ridiculous," Ritsuka mutters, shifting uncomfortable on his brand new suit. Soubi smiles, doing the knot on his tie before he turns towards him.
"You look very handsome, though," he smiles at the dusting of a blush that covers Ritsuka's cheekbones, even as he falls to his knees to fix a few of the buttons of Ritsuka's vest, to tie the last buttons of his sleeves, taking advantage to sweep long fingers over the fabric.
"Soubi," Ritsuka says, a warning in his voice that Soubi decides not to follow as he fixes the suit in deft, slow movements.
Ritsuka's tail moves slowly from side to side, betraying that he's not really annoyed. Soubi manages not to take Ritsuka's hand and kiss his fingers, but only barely. He does, however, tut a little when he notices the length doesn't quite fit, almost dragging by the heel. Ritsuka shrugs.
"I _told you_ that Youji's taller than me," the boy mutters.
Soubi humms softly before he moves a knee up, offering it to Ritsuka with a smile.
Leaning against the desk for balance, Ritsuka puts his foot on his thigh, the shoes new enough that they won't even dirty his own trousers and Soubi resists, barely, the urge to move his fingers down the length of Ritsuka's leg, simply folding the pantleg and folding it inside to use some pins for it, then doing the same with the other leg. Ritsuka's breathing, however, is a little faster than before and, when he looks at him, hands curled over his ankle, he seems a bit flushed. Curious - and perhaps a little amused - Soubi letts his fingers touch a little inside Ritsuka's calf, just on top of where his sock has pooled, feeling the way Ritsuka shivers, his gasp _almost_ unheard.
Then, because he can, Soubi bends forward, enough that he can brush his lips against the still new leather of Ritsuka's shoes.
**
So, on my long 'Ritsuka in the madhouse'-verse fic? I had this scene started. And then Kouga Yun ruined it because she reads my journal or something. So now, if I decide to actually write the fic, I'll have to rewrite that, lest it seem I'm copying fom her.
This is part of the scene.
Ritsuka is the first one to break free from the Illusion. He takes a deep breath and shudders, feels as if he was about to throw up, to crumble up and die right then and there. But more important--
"Soubi," he calls, turns around, feels the way the spell still wants to keep him wrapped around shadows and mist, wants to show him Seimei dying or Seimei killing him, wants to show Soubi betraying him.
But there is something to say about not having his whole past, about not remembering: it makes it easier, in a way, to break free instead of having shadows upon shadow feast upon his despair.
Soubi, however, is on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs, his eyes wide but unseeing, shaking.
"Soubi, listen to me!" Ritsuka begs, kneeling in front of him, touching his arms. "You're okay, it's not real! Soubi!"
Ritsuka keeps repeating his name, tries to fight the whispers that tell him that he's going to lose him, that he can't win against the shadows Soubi holds inside. Soubi's eyes remain hunted, half hidden, but slowly he glances at him, focuses on him instead of the nightmares his brain is showing him. Ritsuka takes advantage of that, presses closer and tries to make Soubi cling to him instead than to his legs.
"Come back," he tells Soubi, half ordered and half begging, trying to crawl his way into Soubi's embrace. "Soubi, come back. I'm here, okay? Come back!"
**
I. Have no idea? I think I might have been reading reversedhymnal's stuff and I wrote a few things and then I didn't finish them.
So Touya and Yue and Yukito being devious when it mattered. IDK.
The sudden breath of magic awoke Touya more than the startled hiss of breath the new occupant of his bed made. Thankful of the darkness and also thankful that Yuki was devious if he thought it was important, Touya moved an arm over Yue's body, cuddling as close as he could.
Yue was barely breathing and Touya did have to hide a sigh at that, instead moving so that one of his legs pressed between Yue's gently, still trying to keep his body as relaxed as if he was still sleeping, almost glad that his lack of magic meant that Yue couldn't read into that. It was only natural, after all, that when he tried to move, Touya's hold on him tightened.
Yue sighed, body relaxing slowly, as if he was doing it against his will (and, if he knew Yuki, that was probably the case).
***
"Yue..."
The body in his arms froze and Touya did the same, lips still against the nape of his neck. It only lasted a moment before Yue was shifting back into Yuki, hiding back inside his heart.
Touya sighed, even as he gathered Yuki into his arms again.
**
Considering that I have some notes of the 'WHY DO I HAVE TO FAIL AT PORN WHY' on the file, I think this might have been for either SPK or a kinkmeme.
Yuuri and Wolfram lock themselves in a closet. I love closet jokes in KKM.
Yuuri felt a small moment of panic when Wolfram opened the door and found him inside the closet. Luckily enough, Wolfram looked over his shoulder and dropped his voice a notch, which assured Yuuri that he wouldn't be castrated in the next five minutes or so at least.
"Anissina?" Wolfram asked, and Yuuri finally took notice of how sweaty Wolram seemed, even his usually pristine uniform informing him that he must have run for a while to lose the chase.
"YES."
With that said, Yuuri moved what little he could to the side and Wolfram closed the door. It wasn't a very big closet, which was the reason why Yuuri had chosen it: he was pretty sure that if Anissina chose to search for them, she'd start through the more spacious ones first, and luckily the castle would have a wormhole or something to delay her so that he could run away again.
But a friend in need was a friend in need. And Anissina's newest invention was a combo of potion and chair with wires and straps.
Still, it was kind of awkward to be pressed so close to Wolfram, and who knew for how long it'd be until Anissina found a subject for her experiment. The scream of terror could take a while to come, and meanwhile, so that the two of them could fit among the boxes without making them topple over, they were barely a breath apart.
"What would you have done if it was someone else?" Wolfram asked, sudden enough that Yuuri jumped a little out of his thoughts about the lunch they were missing.
Thankfully, his survival instincts had gotten better, so instead of his knee gut reaction to say 'move over' he shrugged a little, going for answer number two:
"I don't think anyone else would've fit in here!" which was true enough.
Before Wolfram could say a thing about that, though, they heard something breaking and footsteps.
"You think..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Wolfram's hand was against his mouth suddenly, Wolfram pressing him against the boxes completely. For a moment, all Yuuri could do was listen to his heartbeat. And then his body did the thing of, well. Reminding him that he was, indeed, a sixteen years old boy and noticed just how warm Wolfram's body was.
He couldn't see Wolfram, but he knew his stance was ready to grab him and run if the door was opened, ready to yell at him for being slow but that he wouldn't let go because that was the kind of person Wolfram was.
All in all, it made him a little weak on the knees, and all much more aware of just how Wolfram was pressing so close to him and Yuuri had to start thinking on the mating habits of the demon goala to try and hope to control his libido.
Then, the footsteps stopped just outside the closet and neither of them dared to draw a breath for the moment. They couldn't be sure if it was another person searching for room to hide or if it was Anissina or one of the maids, and sadly, in this kind of situation, it was first come first served.
Whoever it was, however, moved away from the closet after a few moments and both Yuuri and Wolfram could dare to breathe again. Wolfram gave a relieved sigh and leaned against his shoulder, his hand still against his mouth and Yuuri had a few seconds of 'shouldn't' versus 'wanna' and, well. 'Wanna' won.
Carefully, he moved his hands from his side to Wolfram's hips, thinking that hey, he could still back down and push him a little away, he still could.
"Yuuri? What are you doing?" Wolfram asked, and he could still feel him close to him, Wolfram moving his hand from his mouth.
And before Yuuri could decide if Wolfram would kill him, he leaned forward, searching blindly for Wolfram's mouth. Their noses bumped, and he heard Wolfram's inhaled breath of surprise before Wolfram moved, too, his mouth finding his.
That should have been more than enough, and Yuuri really did consider running out and drowning himself until his
**
I love the Constantine movie. That might involve the fact that I love Keanu Reeves despite it all, but also with the fact that a movie that makes me laugh like that with its black sense of humor is amazing in my book.
And then we have one of my Top Three Satans in fiction EVER, and Satan, when hearing that his son was with Gabriel, saying 'well, can't account for taste'.
So this was supposed to be dirty degrading filthy mindfucking Mammon/Gabriel.
"The Lord is my shepherd," Gabriel mutters faithfully, eyes raised to the cross over his bed. He's shaking, still cold, still hungry, still human, so weak and frail and dirty. He licks his lips and does his best not to think of spit and the fluids inside him.
He needs to be pure and he needs not to think of that. God will answer him soon, he knows, and realize he meant well, that he never meant to defy His will.
"I shall not want;"
"I should hope not," a smokey voice says. Gabriel shivers and turns, thinks for a moment that it's John that came just to mock him, to see in which state one of God's most faithful servants is. The hair is the same, the clothes, even the sharp red-light his smoke brings into the semi darkness of his room, but his grin is too wide for him to be Constantine. The stranger walks in, drops his cigarette and steps on it as he gets closer, with smoke coming out from his mouth as he speaks. "Considering I'm here to pick you up and all."
He hasn't seen him and he doesn't know him but still Gabriel shivers and cluthes to the crucify around his neck as if it had the power most humans believe it has, the power he wants it to have.
"Mammon," he murmurs, hating that his voice trembles, the way his body shivers.
The demon laughs and it's a sound tha Gabriel would have liked never to hear in this body, never to hear as a human who can and will have nightmares of this laugh that promises blood and murder. The demon leans close and breathes in against the stench of his humanity and Gabriel shudders, closing his eyes. He can almost smell the sulfor of his body as Mammon presses close to him, a hand clenched over the nape of his neck, the other one over his waist.
"Just thought that I'd come and say 'hi'."
**
Kurogane/Fai is something that I still have to completely warm up to. I love them as friends, I realize how important they are to each other, but I'm not quite sold to the couple. I am becoming more invested since I play Sakura in Mansión, and Danly's wonderful Fai and Vi's amazing Kurogane make me stalk their threads and ship _them_, which might make me ship their canon versions yet, but well. As I said, it's hard for me to actually get ideas for them.
Which is why this is finished. Between the CLAMP!Twists and all, I just lost the inspiration for this about four, five months ago. Maybe I'll get to finish it eventually, but it's unlikely, I think.
Sometimes, it almost feels like a dream for Kurogane. He'll be between a dream and reality, and then, nothing will be real except for everything else. In those brief moments of nothing-and-yet-everything, sometimes he thinks he's still the same ninja he was before he left, still trying to find true strength. And then sometimes he is almost awake with the sound of the princess' laughter, the boy's voice, the manjuu's chirp, the damn wizard's sass. Perhaps they are still traveling or perhaps the travel was just something else.
But then he wakes up and his metallic arm is heavy and the futon where he rests is of better quality than the ones the inns they rested when they traveled had. The manjuu exists no more, the second princess, the one he didn't know but who knew of them due to her dreams is on her country, and the second boy with the fate of several worlds on his hand is with her. The wizard is gone as well, moving through dimensions for who knows how long, and he is where he should be.
Those dreams exist only for him now, Kurogane thinks, and he's not a dreamgazer, he has never wanted to be one, so he knows that those dreams he has means that he's just mourning, missing what will never be again.
*
The damn wizard comes back again on April 1st. Kurogane is called from his guard, and when he reaches Tomoyo's tea room he hears laughter and--
“Kuro-sama!” he's laughing and it's not a fake laughter, his smile true. There's something more posed on him, almost calm. “Surprise!”
“You could have told me,” he says, and he's not sure who's the one he's accusing about this. “What the hell are you doing here?”
However, his luck has it that both Tomoyo and the wizard feign identical expressions of surprise. Tomoyo's hand covers her lips faintly, and Fay just smiles.
“But it was meant as a surprise, Kurogane,” Tomoyo says gently, as if he was a kid. “I simply couldn't ruin it.”
“Meanie Kuro-sama asking Tomoyo-hime for such a thing,” Fay sniffs. “And acting as if it wasn't a complete and absolute joy to have me back.”
“He'll certainly have to make amends for that,” Tomoyo agrees with Fay. “And he'll have the time for that, as well!”
“You're staying?” Kurogane asks. After it all ended, when the other kid, the witch's assistant had granted them one last wish, he had asked Fay if he wanted to go to Nipon with him. But Fay had said he still wanted to travel, not to worry about him, he wasn't going to just die. But there were things that he had to do, first, and that had been it for years.
Fay smiles. “For a while, at least.”
“Just long enough to tell me about the worlds he has been, at the very least,” Tomoyo says. She smiles as she stands up, bowing her head. “And he's welcome to stay for as long as he may want to.”
Fay stands up as well and he's not taller, Kurogane doesn't think, but he doesn't slouch so much now. He's not trying to hide as much. He bows towards the princess, blond hair falling on his mismatched eyes.
After the princess goes, Souma behind her back, Fay's eyes don't turn towards him, but towards the tree that is still in bloom. Kurogane had come early in the morning, resting his hand against the rough bark of the tree a moment as he thought of the princess that had traveled with them, about the kid they had known, the kid that had come later, and then he had left.
If he was someone else, he would have thought it a coincidence for Fay to come back this day of all days, but he knows better than to think that. So instead he looks up as well, towards the pink-white blossoms that won't last for much more.
The pink blossoms drifting around and Kurogane says (says, it's not a question): “You were in love with her.”
Fay is smiling as he looks at the way the blossoms fall and he cocks his head to the side to look at him He doesn't have to say her name. His hair curls on his shoulders, and his blue-and-gold eyes look wistful and sad.
“Mmm, I was.”
Kurogane nods, because sometimes it's good to put things out in the air, make them real, even though you knew them already. He thinks about the Sakura that they saved, with her sweet eyes and the sorrow in her voice as she said that no, she wasn't the Sakura they knew despite the fact that she cared for them as well, and the ache behind his ribs is terrible and familiar.
**
I think that once, niconeko and I were talking about how much Kamui and Subaru's life sucked and one of us said 'Can you imagine what would've happened if Subaru had had to take care of Kamui since he was little?'
And obviously I had to write a few things, except that I also kind of lost the idea of it.
"Crying won't fix anything," Subaru tells the boy. He knows he is, perhaps, being too cruel. Kamui is barely ten years old and he has already had to let go of his mother and beloved friends, but sometimes Subaru thinks that's for the best. That way, even if he'll miss them, they won't become as dear to him that they'll be his world.
Kamui looks at him, eyes still full of tears and looking so sad and broken that something inside Subaru aches, something that he thought long gone. He looks away, and he ignores the way his hand trembles as he lights up a cigarette. He hears Kamui shuffle and stand up, and a few sniffles. He doesn't look up.
"I'm sorry," the boy mutters, getting close to him.
Subaru sighs, blows away some smoke. "You don't need to apologize."
"But I made you sad, Subaru," the boy tells him, shifting until he's kneeling by his side, touching a small hand to his face. Subaru almost flinches as Kamui seems to pet him, as if to sooth any ache he could have. "I'm sorry about whatever I said that made you sad."
"Can I see Fuuma and Kotori?" Kamui asks, a week after he has started living with him. He's quiet most of the times, and if he cries, Subaru hasn't seen him nor has he heard him.
The boy is looking down, and Subaru can almost tell where the shadows under his eyes will apear.
He searches for his lighter. "Do you want them to die?"
"No!" Kamui gasps and then he looks at him, anger in his eyes and fear, simple, painful fear. Fear about losing his precious people. Subaru makes himself look at him straight back, despite his sudden urge to just get out of his own house.
"Then no, you can't."
Kamui winces as if he had been struck before he looks back to his food.
Neither of them finishes lunch.
**
My favorite page in Loveless is the one with Ritsuka tied up over a chair, when Soubi comes and he just sort of... crumbles against Ritsuka's legs and asks him to run away and take Soubi with him. It KILLS ME and for me it translates everything their relationship is.
So of course once I wanted to write a fic where Ritsuka says 'OKAY, LET'S RUN AWAY'. Except that my flash of LET'S DO IT lasted that. A flash.
Soubi says, his voice soft, broken, almost lost, as if he was saying these words against his will: 'I beg you, Ritsuka... run away and take me with you' and Ritsuka feels as if he had been shot.
Soubi's words hurt, even Soubi's slouch hurts, the way Soubi is leaning against his legs, not sobbing but not okay, really not okay, looking more hurt than when the Zero girls attacked him, and this is a pain he can almost, almost understand.
"Soubi..." he starts, moving bound hands to touch the silken spill of Soubi's hair on his lap, caressing his head. I can't, he thinks. I can't leave mother. I can't just go and leave everything. I need to find out who killed Seimei, why did they hurt him. I can't just go. And even if I could, you're not mine to take you with me. There's just so much that we can't erase. It'd be impossible for us to run away. There is no way you'd stay with me if we ran away.
But what if he could? Ritsuka tries to think about it for a moment, just a second to ignore every reason why they can't. If they could... Ritsuka takes a slow deep breath. If they could go away, then perhaps... perhaps he would exist. Perhaps Soubi wouldn't look so haunted, and perhaps he'd stay. Soubi had said he'd stay by his side forever. Perhaps it would be true
Soubi hasn't lifted his head yet, and Ritsuka bites his lip, feels his ears pressed to his head.
“... okay.”
**
Back before we learned about the 14th, I was happily running away with the 'Mana is a Noah' theory. I was writing a fic where Mana, Maria and Cross were BFFs. This is the last scene that sort of doesn't work now.
The fight was already over by the time Cross managed o get there. There were two akuma level 3 left, broken rumble everywhere and silence, everlasting silence.
And in the middle of it all, a man in a suit with a top hat, holding Maria's bloodied, broken body, her uniform torn, her head completely backwards, betraying a broken neck, and the Noah had his arm around her waist, a vile parody of a hug. His other hand was reaching towards her neck, where her innocence rested.
Cross shoot Judgement almost before he could think about it, but the Noah - those marks and hose clothes, god, so similar to Mana! - jumped away, letting Maria's body fall down. His bullets still searched for him, but it didn't seem to matter with the way he avoided them.
“I wasn't expecting to kill two exorcists the same night,” the Noah said. He was young, fuck, so fucking young and in his mind there was Mana's laugh, telling him and Maria about his new brother, a few months ago. He was in his early twenties, tops, with a beauty mark and a sinuous smile and there was a cadence similar to Maria's voice in his accent.
Cross snorted, feeling the harsh edges of Judgment cutting his hands through his gloves.
But before he could do that there was a whirlwind of card he knew, and a door opening right behind the Noah. Everything happened so fast that as it happened, Cross wasn't sure what was it: but even today, after so many years gone from the Bookmen clan, his eye still didn't let him forget anything he had seen and he had seen it; he had seen the way the other Noah had knocked out Maria's assassin, the way he had cradled the kid with the butterflies in his arms, letting the door take them away and, worse than anything else, he had caught a glimpse of the Mana's pained expression before they disappeared.
“We'll be the ones to kill you instead of lord Noah, exorcist!” chanted both Akuma.
Cross didn't even feign to answer them.
It was over far too fast and he didn't hurt enough once it was done. Sure, he had bruises and his left hand was broken, but he could barely feel it. He had been betrayed twice in one night: Maria had broken her promise to outlive him and dance on his grave, and Mana had broken his to never interfere in a fight between him and another Noah.
Cross knelt by Maria's corpse, gathering her remains close. Half of her face was gone, eaten so that there remained nothing f her green eyes, her empty sockets almost staring at him. The scars of her Innocence remained as if activated, though, the red of it a stark contrast against the gray ash color of her cold body.
He didn't dare speak, not yet. Cross focused only on breathing because he knew that if he spoke, he would call her name over and over, and then that damned Earl would show up, and Cross just didn't trust himself right then, and then... then she would never forgive him.
Besides, he was still waiting.
Cross lost count on how many waves he heard, or how many hours he stayed there. He only knew that the day was breaking its pinks and reds when Mana appeared carrying a bouquet of white roses, the color of death. He was wearing his civilian clothes, no crosses marring his forehead and his eyes were rimmed red .
Cross tried, for a second, to remember if he had ever seen Mana cry and he drew a blank.
But then he moved, keeping Maria's corpse as close as possible, ignoring how fucking much his broken hand hurt and he reached with his left one to lift Judgment, getting ready to shoot.
And yet Mana walked forward up to them, kneeling by his side, putting the flowers down. He looked at him even when he drew the safety back, his finger in the trigger.
“I'm sorry,” Mana said, and Cross felt the questions in his mouth, just about to be spilled.
But he already knew the answers to them and all the important reasons, and he didn't care for excuses anymore.
“Don't be sorry,” Cross said instead, putting Maria's body down, by the flowers. “Make it better.”
“What?”
Cross had read the books and notes and he knew enough alchemy by now to know how this should work, what arrays to draw upon her body. He opened her uniform, willing himself not to pay attention to the body he had known so well, or the fact that just a few days ago, the three of them had been together, sharing the same air. Instead he bit his finger so that he could write on her body with his blood, and he had barely started with the first array when Mana understood.
His hand grabbed Cross' wrist and Cross snarled, furious and more hurt than he ever cared to admit.
“You fucking owe me, Noah. Bring her back.”
“Nothing can bring the dead back to live,” Mana said, his eyes sad but his expression set. “As an exorcist, you know this.”
“You can't maker her live again but you can make it so that she's not dead.”
“That's forbidden.”
“And I don't give a fucking damn!” Cross yelled again. “I won't have her die like this!”
“Cross, she already did. Maria would have never wanted this,” Mana answered, and his expression was such a perfect mockery of grief that Cross punched him hard, watching Mana stagger.
But the Noah just sighed, shaking his head. He sat down again, wiping his bloodied lip with his hand, looking at him again and that was fine, because Cross didn't dare to look down at what remained of the woman he loved, not when he could feel his love for her beating desperately inside him, breaking him, and his love for Mana doing the same.
“She wanted to keep on fighting,” Cross answered finally. “She wanted to help. And she wanted to keep on singing. ”
Mana closed his eyes and Cross saw the tears that rolled down Mana's face with a sense of finality.
Mana didn't say yes, but with his face still stricken, he leaned down, kissing Maria's torn, broken lips gently; Cross heard him mutter a 'please, forgive me' and he saw then Mana write in that language of his, all over Maria's body. His eyes had gone white, crosses upon his forehead and he caught Cross caught a bit of Egptina before Mana grabbed his hand.
He didn't ask if he was sure, for what Cross was bitterly thankful. Still muttering his prayers, Mana put Cross' hands on top of Maria's chest, where her heart would have been beating and, eyes locked with his, Mana stabbed through his hand and Maria's heart with a dagger that seemed like a feather.
Cross couldn't stop himself from screaming.: it felt as f his soul was melting away, his body burning and his blood pouring inside of Maria.
He saw light and he thought he could feel her for a moment, right there besides him. Cross gasped and the world focused again. Mana was still whispering his prayers, the knife - when had he taken it out? - in his hand.
Maria's body floated, then, a gold-red chaing wrapping around her like a cocoon. Her uniform fell of her body, a dark gown covering her instead. Bandages wrapped themselves around her throat and her face, and a red and black butterfly covered half of her face, like a mask. He roses Mana had brought were upon her dress, and Cross was a little surprised to find the end of her chain wrapped around his wrist and he wrote, without Mana's help, the rest of the spell.
“Maria's grave,” he called. A coffin appeared out of nowhere, and Cross could stiil feel it, even as Maria's corspe when inside it, even as it disappeared.
“She's still dead,” Mana said finaly, still kneeling by his side. Now both of his hands hurt like a bitch and the distant part of Cross brain that hadn't gone completely crazy in the lapse of a night had started to wonder just how the hell he was going to explain this in Head Quarters, if it was even worthy to try.
“Your life will run through her body, when you summon her, but other than that...”
“Will her Innocence still work?”
“If it's your command, yes.”
Cross smirked, thinking just how much she would've hated to know that. Mana made as if to touch him again, but before he could, Cross had Judgment in his hold and pressing against Mana's forehead, the pain be damned.
“The name of your brother.”
“Cross...” Mana's eyes were still sad and sweet, broken despite the crosses upon his forehead. Had they ever been like that, in the last five year since he had known him? Had Mana ever seemed so human?
“The name, Mana.”
“I'm not going to betray my brother, Exorcist,” Mana answered. “He is my brother and I love him as much as I love you.”
It was surprising, a little, how much those words hurt and how little they changed. Cross didn't let go of Judgment and Mana remained where he was, eyes golden and crosses upon his skin.
“My brother...”
“Is as good as dead,” Cross told Mana, not looking away from him. “Because next time I see him, I will kill him.”
Mana bristled. “Cross.”
“The only thing I'm going to do for you is not to chase him,” Cross added. “But I don't want to see you ever again, or I'll do what I should have done years ago.”
Mana kept on looking at him for long, long minutes before he sighed, bowing his head.
When he looked up his eyes were brown and his forehead was clean, and Cross did nothing when he leaned forward, brushing his lips against his.
“For what its worthy,” Mana said softly, speaking against his lips. “I loved her as well.”
Cross counted the steps Mana took before he disappeared, and it was only when he had counted that number ten times that he stood up.
He had to get new clothes, burn this uniform, give his report. He needed to get himself as drunk as possible.
He needed to disappear.
**
And this was a Nabari no Ou, Yukimi bit that I wrote right after the chapter 53 came out, before the translation and before we found out that Miharu had actually managed to erase Yoite's memory of everyone else, so it doesn't quite work.
His first thought is not about his lack of arm, perhaps because it's still too soon and the phantom pain of the arm that is no longer there distracts him. But Yukimi's first thought is 'Yoite's gone'.
That's what really bothers him, enough that he moves his left arm to cover his eyes for a moment. The kid's gone, and there won't be even ashes to be able to pray for his soul. No more lemon tea and the silent presence at their apartment, no more Yoite's sad, careful eyes when they looked at him.
Yukimi takes a slow, deep breath to try and ease the sudden pang of regret that hits him, something fierce that aches inside his chest. Just sixteen years old, and less than two years later, there's no more Yoite.
His throat closes up and he makes himself cough, rubs at his eyes, curses softly and for a moment, he tries not to think, but he fails at that as well.
Miharu, Yoite had said. And protect him, and he had smiled, and he looked alive the the way that Yukimi had never in two years he had seen him alive. His side aches and Yukimi's careful as he sits down, hissing a little at how the stitches pull, and then he has the moment of discomfort and surprise when he tries to move his right arm and it's not there.
He's still trying to get over that when the door slides open, and Amatatsu is there, her eyes rimmed red, but relief washes over her expression the moment she sees his up.
“You know, you shouldn't stand up,” she says, and she gets closet to him and hugs him. Yukimi moves his one arm to touch her hair as he allows her a moment like this, wondering if Yoite realized that there were going to be people that would have cried for him. “How are you feeling?”
“Beaten and half drugged,” Yukimi says, shrugging. There's nausea as well, and perhaps he should lay down again, but there's things that need to be done. “How's the kid?”
“... Miharu-kun is sleeping. He has been sleeping the same time you have been asleep.”
“How long?”
“Three days. Um, what are you doing?” Amatatsu asks as Yukimi tries to dress. It's going to take time that he doesn't have to learn how to do things with just one arm, but hell: he's a ninja, and if he can't improvise, then he deserves to die.
And he won't die, because he has something to do, a promise to be kept.
“You really shouldn't be moving. You lost way too much blood and--”
He ignores her. Later there'll be time to rest. “The brat is fine, then? Why is he sleeping?”
“Apparently he used the Shiranbashou and it exhausted him.”
Yukimi nods, curses when buttoning his jeans proves harder to do with just one hand, but then he grins when he manages to do it. He decides against trying his luck when changing the shirt he has on, picking up just his jacket. “C'mon then.”
“Brother! Are you even listening to me?! You're hurt, you almost died and--”
“And Yoite's dead and the kid's gonna be broken-hearted when he wakes up,” Yukimi interrupts her, and he hates the way his throat closes, the way his eyes prickle again. He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath because he doesn't have time yet to break down. He has to make sure that things will be ready for Miharu when he wakes up, and this is only one chance in a million for his idea to work, for his idea to, perhaps, save Miharu from thinking that he's all alone now.
He couldn't help Yoite. He tried too late, perhaps, thought too little, didn't do enough until it was too late to stop it. These are the regrets that he's going to carry with him from now on, and Yukimi's ready to shoulder them, because it's the least he can do for the kid he wasn't able to help.
“... I promised Yoite I was gonna take care of the kid, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do,” he answers finally, leaning against the wall. “I can't drive like this and there's something I have to do before Miharu wakes up.”
He hears Amatatsu sniffle, and he wonders if Yoite ever thought that people might miss him, even though Yukimi knows that he probably never did.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaand that's it for now. The rest of the stories I think I'm still going to finish them. But, for now, I should try and finish the last SPK story.
Because I'm crazy, that's why.
Meanwhile, it's time to clean the "Never Going To Be Finished" Fic Folder:
I can't quite remember why I was writing this one, which is why it's still unfinished. Spazzing about with either reversedhymnal or telrunya, most likely? Anyway, I totally forgot what I wanted to do with this story, so.
"I feel ridiculous," Ritsuka mutters, shifting uncomfortable on his brand new suit. Soubi smiles, doing the knot on his tie before he turns towards him.
"You look very handsome, though," he smiles at the dusting of a blush that covers Ritsuka's cheekbones, even as he falls to his knees to fix a few of the buttons of Ritsuka's vest, to tie the last buttons of his sleeves, taking advantage to sweep long fingers over the fabric.
"Soubi," Ritsuka says, a warning in his voice that Soubi decides not to follow as he fixes the suit in deft, slow movements.
Ritsuka's tail moves slowly from side to side, betraying that he's not really annoyed. Soubi manages not to take Ritsuka's hand and kiss his fingers, but only barely. He does, however, tut a little when he notices the length doesn't quite fit, almost dragging by the heel. Ritsuka shrugs.
"I _told you_ that Youji's taller than me," the boy mutters.
Soubi humms softly before he moves a knee up, offering it to Ritsuka with a smile.
Leaning against the desk for balance, Ritsuka puts his foot on his thigh, the shoes new enough that they won't even dirty his own trousers and Soubi resists, barely, the urge to move his fingers down the length of Ritsuka's leg, simply folding the pantleg and folding it inside to use some pins for it, then doing the same with the other leg. Ritsuka's breathing, however, is a little faster than before and, when he looks at him, hands curled over his ankle, he seems a bit flushed. Curious - and perhaps a little amused - Soubi letts his fingers touch a little inside Ritsuka's calf, just on top of where his sock has pooled, feeling the way Ritsuka shivers, his gasp _almost_ unheard.
Then, because he can, Soubi bends forward, enough that he can brush his lips against the still new leather of Ritsuka's shoes.
**
So, on my long 'Ritsuka in the madhouse'-verse fic? I had this scene started. And then Kouga Yun ruined it because she reads my journal or something. So now, if I decide to actually write the fic, I'll have to rewrite that, lest it seem I'm copying fom her.
This is part of the scene.
Ritsuka is the first one to break free from the Illusion. He takes a deep breath and shudders, feels as if he was about to throw up, to crumble up and die right then and there. But more important--
"Soubi," he calls, turns around, feels the way the spell still wants to keep him wrapped around shadows and mist, wants to show him Seimei dying or Seimei killing him, wants to show Soubi betraying him.
But there is something to say about not having his whole past, about not remembering: it makes it easier, in a way, to break free instead of having shadows upon shadow feast upon his despair.
Soubi, however, is on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs, his eyes wide but unseeing, shaking.
"Soubi, listen to me!" Ritsuka begs, kneeling in front of him, touching his arms. "You're okay, it's not real! Soubi!"
Ritsuka keeps repeating his name, tries to fight the whispers that tell him that he's going to lose him, that he can't win against the shadows Soubi holds inside. Soubi's eyes remain hunted, half hidden, but slowly he glances at him, focuses on him instead of the nightmares his brain is showing him. Ritsuka takes advantage of that, presses closer and tries to make Soubi cling to him instead than to his legs.
"Come back," he tells Soubi, half ordered and half begging, trying to crawl his way into Soubi's embrace. "Soubi, come back. I'm here, okay? Come back!"
**
I. Have no idea? I think I might have been reading reversedhymnal's stuff and I wrote a few things and then I didn't finish them.
So Touya and Yue and Yukito being devious when it mattered. IDK.
The sudden breath of magic awoke Touya more than the startled hiss of breath the new occupant of his bed made. Thankful of the darkness and also thankful that Yuki was devious if he thought it was important, Touya moved an arm over Yue's body, cuddling as close as he could.
Yue was barely breathing and Touya did have to hide a sigh at that, instead moving so that one of his legs pressed between Yue's gently, still trying to keep his body as relaxed as if he was still sleeping, almost glad that his lack of magic meant that Yue couldn't read into that. It was only natural, after all, that when he tried to move, Touya's hold on him tightened.
Yue sighed, body relaxing slowly, as if he was doing it against his will (and, if he knew Yuki, that was probably the case).
***
"Yue..."
The body in his arms froze and Touya did the same, lips still against the nape of his neck. It only lasted a moment before Yue was shifting back into Yuki, hiding back inside his heart.
Touya sighed, even as he gathered Yuki into his arms again.
**
Considering that I have some notes of the 'WHY DO I HAVE TO FAIL AT PORN WHY' on the file, I think this might have been for either SPK or a kinkmeme.
Yuuri and Wolfram lock themselves in a closet. I love closet jokes in KKM.
Yuuri felt a small moment of panic when Wolfram opened the door and found him inside the closet. Luckily enough, Wolfram looked over his shoulder and dropped his voice a notch, which assured Yuuri that he wouldn't be castrated in the next five minutes or so at least.
"Anissina?" Wolfram asked, and Yuuri finally took notice of how sweaty Wolram seemed, even his usually pristine uniform informing him that he must have run for a while to lose the chase.
"YES."
With that said, Yuuri moved what little he could to the side and Wolfram closed the door. It wasn't a very big closet, which was the reason why Yuuri had chosen it: he was pretty sure that if Anissina chose to search for them, she'd start through the more spacious ones first, and luckily the castle would have a wormhole or something to delay her so that he could run away again.
But a friend in need was a friend in need. And Anissina's newest invention was a combo of potion and chair with wires and straps.
Still, it was kind of awkward to be pressed so close to Wolfram, and who knew for how long it'd be until Anissina found a subject for her experiment. The scream of terror could take a while to come, and meanwhile, so that the two of them could fit among the boxes without making them topple over, they were barely a breath apart.
"What would you have done if it was someone else?" Wolfram asked, sudden enough that Yuuri jumped a little out of his thoughts about the lunch they were missing.
Thankfully, his survival instincts had gotten better, so instead of his knee gut reaction to say 'move over' he shrugged a little, going for answer number two:
"I don't think anyone else would've fit in here!" which was true enough.
Before Wolfram could say a thing about that, though, they heard something breaking and footsteps.
"You think..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Wolfram's hand was against his mouth suddenly, Wolfram pressing him against the boxes completely. For a moment, all Yuuri could do was listen to his heartbeat. And then his body did the thing of, well. Reminding him that he was, indeed, a sixteen years old boy and noticed just how warm Wolfram's body was.
He couldn't see Wolfram, but he knew his stance was ready to grab him and run if the door was opened, ready to yell at him for being slow but that he wouldn't let go because that was the kind of person Wolfram was.
All in all, it made him a little weak on the knees, and all much more aware of just how Wolfram was pressing so close to him and Yuuri had to start thinking on the mating habits of the demon goala to try and hope to control his libido.
Then, the footsteps stopped just outside the closet and neither of them dared to draw a breath for the moment. They couldn't be sure if it was another person searching for room to hide or if it was Anissina or one of the maids, and sadly, in this kind of situation, it was first come first served.
Whoever it was, however, moved away from the closet after a few moments and both Yuuri and Wolfram could dare to breathe again. Wolfram gave a relieved sigh and leaned against his shoulder, his hand still against his mouth and Yuuri had a few seconds of 'shouldn't' versus 'wanna' and, well. 'Wanna' won.
Carefully, he moved his hands from his side to Wolfram's hips, thinking that hey, he could still back down and push him a little away, he still could.
"Yuuri? What are you doing?" Wolfram asked, and he could still feel him close to him, Wolfram moving his hand from his mouth.
And before Yuuri could decide if Wolfram would kill him, he leaned forward, searching blindly for Wolfram's mouth. Their noses bumped, and he heard Wolfram's inhaled breath of surprise before Wolfram moved, too, his mouth finding his.
That should have been more than enough, and Yuuri really did consider running out and drowning himself until his
**
I love the Constantine movie. That might involve the fact that I love Keanu Reeves despite it all, but also with the fact that a movie that makes me laugh like that with its black sense of humor is amazing in my book.
And then we have one of my Top Three Satans in fiction EVER, and Satan, when hearing that his son was with Gabriel, saying 'well, can't account for taste'.
So this was supposed to be dirty degrading filthy mindfucking Mammon/Gabriel.
"The Lord is my shepherd," Gabriel mutters faithfully, eyes raised to the cross over his bed. He's shaking, still cold, still hungry, still human, so weak and frail and dirty. He licks his lips and does his best not to think of spit and the fluids inside him.
He needs to be pure and he needs not to think of that. God will answer him soon, he knows, and realize he meant well, that he never meant to defy His will.
"I shall not want;"
"I should hope not," a smokey voice says. Gabriel shivers and turns, thinks for a moment that it's John that came just to mock him, to see in which state one of God's most faithful servants is. The hair is the same, the clothes, even the sharp red-light his smoke brings into the semi darkness of his room, but his grin is too wide for him to be Constantine. The stranger walks in, drops his cigarette and steps on it as he gets closer, with smoke coming out from his mouth as he speaks. "Considering I'm here to pick you up and all."
He hasn't seen him and he doesn't know him but still Gabriel shivers and cluthes to the crucify around his neck as if it had the power most humans believe it has, the power he wants it to have.
"Mammon," he murmurs, hating that his voice trembles, the way his body shivers.
The demon laughs and it's a sound tha Gabriel would have liked never to hear in this body, never to hear as a human who can and will have nightmares of this laugh that promises blood and murder. The demon leans close and breathes in against the stench of his humanity and Gabriel shudders, closing his eyes. He can almost smell the sulfor of his body as Mammon presses close to him, a hand clenched over the nape of his neck, the other one over his waist.
"Just thought that I'd come and say 'hi'."
**
Kurogane/Fai is something that I still have to completely warm up to. I love them as friends, I realize how important they are to each other, but I'm not quite sold to the couple. I am becoming more invested since I play Sakura in Mansión, and Danly's wonderful Fai and Vi's amazing Kurogane make me stalk their threads and ship _them_, which might make me ship their canon versions yet, but well. As I said, it's hard for me to actually get ideas for them.
Which is why this is finished. Between the CLAMP!Twists and all, I just lost the inspiration for this about four, five months ago. Maybe I'll get to finish it eventually, but it's unlikely, I think.
Sometimes, it almost feels like a dream for Kurogane. He'll be between a dream and reality, and then, nothing will be real except for everything else. In those brief moments of nothing-and-yet-everything, sometimes he thinks he's still the same ninja he was before he left, still trying to find true strength. And then sometimes he is almost awake with the sound of the princess' laughter, the boy's voice, the manjuu's chirp, the damn wizard's sass. Perhaps they are still traveling or perhaps the travel was just something else.
But then he wakes up and his metallic arm is heavy and the futon where he rests is of better quality than the ones the inns they rested when they traveled had. The manjuu exists no more, the second princess, the one he didn't know but who knew of them due to her dreams is on her country, and the second boy with the fate of several worlds on his hand is with her. The wizard is gone as well, moving through dimensions for who knows how long, and he is where he should be.
Those dreams exist only for him now, Kurogane thinks, and he's not a dreamgazer, he has never wanted to be one, so he knows that those dreams he has means that he's just mourning, missing what will never be again.
*
The damn wizard comes back again on April 1st. Kurogane is called from his guard, and when he reaches Tomoyo's tea room he hears laughter and--
“Kuro-sama!” he's laughing and it's not a fake laughter, his smile true. There's something more posed on him, almost calm. “Surprise!”
“You could have told me,” he says, and he's not sure who's the one he's accusing about this. “What the hell are you doing here?”
However, his luck has it that both Tomoyo and the wizard feign identical expressions of surprise. Tomoyo's hand covers her lips faintly, and Fay just smiles.
“But it was meant as a surprise, Kurogane,” Tomoyo says gently, as if he was a kid. “I simply couldn't ruin it.”
“Meanie Kuro-sama asking Tomoyo-hime for such a thing,” Fay sniffs. “And acting as if it wasn't a complete and absolute joy to have me back.”
“He'll certainly have to make amends for that,” Tomoyo agrees with Fay. “And he'll have the time for that, as well!”
“You're staying?” Kurogane asks. After it all ended, when the other kid, the witch's assistant had granted them one last wish, he had asked Fay if he wanted to go to Nipon with him. But Fay had said he still wanted to travel, not to worry about him, he wasn't going to just die. But there were things that he had to do, first, and that had been it for years.
Fay smiles. “For a while, at least.”
“Just long enough to tell me about the worlds he has been, at the very least,” Tomoyo says. She smiles as she stands up, bowing her head. “And he's welcome to stay for as long as he may want to.”
Fay stands up as well and he's not taller, Kurogane doesn't think, but he doesn't slouch so much now. He's not trying to hide as much. He bows towards the princess, blond hair falling on his mismatched eyes.
After the princess goes, Souma behind her back, Fay's eyes don't turn towards him, but towards the tree that is still in bloom. Kurogane had come early in the morning, resting his hand against the rough bark of the tree a moment as he thought of the princess that had traveled with them, about the kid they had known, the kid that had come later, and then he had left.
If he was someone else, he would have thought it a coincidence for Fay to come back this day of all days, but he knows better than to think that. So instead he looks up as well, towards the pink-white blossoms that won't last for much more.
The pink blossoms drifting around and Kurogane says (says, it's not a question): “You were in love with her.”
Fay is smiling as he looks at the way the blossoms fall and he cocks his head to the side to look at him He doesn't have to say her name. His hair curls on his shoulders, and his blue-and-gold eyes look wistful and sad.
“Mmm, I was.”
Kurogane nods, because sometimes it's good to put things out in the air, make them real, even though you knew them already. He thinks about the Sakura that they saved, with her sweet eyes and the sorrow in her voice as she said that no, she wasn't the Sakura they knew despite the fact that she cared for them as well, and the ache behind his ribs is terrible and familiar.
**
I think that once, niconeko and I were talking about how much Kamui and Subaru's life sucked and one of us said 'Can you imagine what would've happened if Subaru had had to take care of Kamui since he was little?'
And obviously I had to write a few things, except that I also kind of lost the idea of it.
"Crying won't fix anything," Subaru tells the boy. He knows he is, perhaps, being too cruel. Kamui is barely ten years old and he has already had to let go of his mother and beloved friends, but sometimes Subaru thinks that's for the best. That way, even if he'll miss them, they won't become as dear to him that they'll be his world.
Kamui looks at him, eyes still full of tears and looking so sad and broken that something inside Subaru aches, something that he thought long gone. He looks away, and he ignores the way his hand trembles as he lights up a cigarette. He hears Kamui shuffle and stand up, and a few sniffles. He doesn't look up.
"I'm sorry," the boy mutters, getting close to him.
Subaru sighs, blows away some smoke. "You don't need to apologize."
"But I made you sad, Subaru," the boy tells him, shifting until he's kneeling by his side, touching a small hand to his face. Subaru almost flinches as Kamui seems to pet him, as if to sooth any ache he could have. "I'm sorry about whatever I said that made you sad."
"Can I see Fuuma and Kotori?" Kamui asks, a week after he has started living with him. He's quiet most of the times, and if he cries, Subaru hasn't seen him nor has he heard him.
The boy is looking down, and Subaru can almost tell where the shadows under his eyes will apear.
He searches for his lighter. "Do you want them to die?"
"No!" Kamui gasps and then he looks at him, anger in his eyes and fear, simple, painful fear. Fear about losing his precious people. Subaru makes himself look at him straight back, despite his sudden urge to just get out of his own house.
"Then no, you can't."
Kamui winces as if he had been struck before he looks back to his food.
Neither of them finishes lunch.
**
My favorite page in Loveless is the one with Ritsuka tied up over a chair, when Soubi comes and he just sort of... crumbles against Ritsuka's legs and asks him to run away and take Soubi with him. It KILLS ME and for me it translates everything their relationship is.
So of course once I wanted to write a fic where Ritsuka says 'OKAY, LET'S RUN AWAY'. Except that my flash of LET'S DO IT lasted that. A flash.
Soubi says, his voice soft, broken, almost lost, as if he was saying these words against his will: 'I beg you, Ritsuka... run away and take me with you' and Ritsuka feels as if he had been shot.
Soubi's words hurt, even Soubi's slouch hurts, the way Soubi is leaning against his legs, not sobbing but not okay, really not okay, looking more hurt than when the Zero girls attacked him, and this is a pain he can almost, almost understand.
"Soubi..." he starts, moving bound hands to touch the silken spill of Soubi's hair on his lap, caressing his head. I can't, he thinks. I can't leave mother. I can't just go and leave everything. I need to find out who killed Seimei, why did they hurt him. I can't just go. And even if I could, you're not mine to take you with me. There's just so much that we can't erase. It'd be impossible for us to run away. There is no way you'd stay with me if we ran away.
But what if he could? Ritsuka tries to think about it for a moment, just a second to ignore every reason why they can't. If they could... Ritsuka takes a slow deep breath. If they could go away, then perhaps... perhaps he would exist. Perhaps Soubi wouldn't look so haunted, and perhaps he'd stay. Soubi had said he'd stay by his side forever. Perhaps it would be true
Soubi hasn't lifted his head yet, and Ritsuka bites his lip, feels his ears pressed to his head.
“... okay.”
**
Back before we learned about the 14th, I was happily running away with the 'Mana is a Noah' theory. I was writing a fic where Mana, Maria and Cross were BFFs. This is the last scene that sort of doesn't work now.
The fight was already over by the time Cross managed o get there. There were two akuma level 3 left, broken rumble everywhere and silence, everlasting silence.
And in the middle of it all, a man in a suit with a top hat, holding Maria's bloodied, broken body, her uniform torn, her head completely backwards, betraying a broken neck, and the Noah had his arm around her waist, a vile parody of a hug. His other hand was reaching towards her neck, where her innocence rested.
Cross shoot Judgement almost before he could think about it, but the Noah - those marks and hose clothes, god, so similar to Mana! - jumped away, letting Maria's body fall down. His bullets still searched for him, but it didn't seem to matter with the way he avoided them.
“I wasn't expecting to kill two exorcists the same night,” the Noah said. He was young, fuck, so fucking young and in his mind there was Mana's laugh, telling him and Maria about his new brother, a few months ago. He was in his early twenties, tops, with a beauty mark and a sinuous smile and there was a cadence similar to Maria's voice in his accent.
Cross snorted, feeling the harsh edges of Judgment cutting his hands through his gloves.
But before he could do that there was a whirlwind of card he knew, and a door opening right behind the Noah. Everything happened so fast that as it happened, Cross wasn't sure what was it: but even today, after so many years gone from the Bookmen clan, his eye still didn't let him forget anything he had seen and he had seen it; he had seen the way the other Noah had knocked out Maria's assassin, the way he had cradled the kid with the butterflies in his arms, letting the door take them away and, worse than anything else, he had caught a glimpse of the Mana's pained expression before they disappeared.
“We'll be the ones to kill you instead of lord Noah, exorcist!” chanted both Akuma.
Cross didn't even feign to answer them.
It was over far too fast and he didn't hurt enough once it was done. Sure, he had bruises and his left hand was broken, but he could barely feel it. He had been betrayed twice in one night: Maria had broken her promise to outlive him and dance on his grave, and Mana had broken his to never interfere in a fight between him and another Noah.
Cross knelt by Maria's corpse, gathering her remains close. Half of her face was gone, eaten so that there remained nothing f her green eyes, her empty sockets almost staring at him. The scars of her Innocence remained as if activated, though, the red of it a stark contrast against the gray ash color of her cold body.
He didn't dare speak, not yet. Cross focused only on breathing because he knew that if he spoke, he would call her name over and over, and then that damned Earl would show up, and Cross just didn't trust himself right then, and then... then she would never forgive him.
Besides, he was still waiting.
Cross lost count on how many waves he heard, or how many hours he stayed there. He only knew that the day was breaking its pinks and reds when Mana appeared carrying a bouquet of white roses, the color of death. He was wearing his civilian clothes, no crosses marring his forehead and his eyes were rimmed red .
Cross tried, for a second, to remember if he had ever seen Mana cry and he drew a blank.
But then he moved, keeping Maria's corpse as close as possible, ignoring how fucking much his broken hand hurt and he reached with his left one to lift Judgment, getting ready to shoot.
And yet Mana walked forward up to them, kneeling by his side, putting the flowers down. He looked at him even when he drew the safety back, his finger in the trigger.
“I'm sorry,” Mana said, and Cross felt the questions in his mouth, just about to be spilled.
But he already knew the answers to them and all the important reasons, and he didn't care for excuses anymore.
“Don't be sorry,” Cross said instead, putting Maria's body down, by the flowers. “Make it better.”
“What?”
Cross had read the books and notes and he knew enough alchemy by now to know how this should work, what arrays to draw upon her body. He opened her uniform, willing himself not to pay attention to the body he had known so well, or the fact that just a few days ago, the three of them had been together, sharing the same air. Instead he bit his finger so that he could write on her body with his blood, and he had barely started with the first array when Mana understood.
His hand grabbed Cross' wrist and Cross snarled, furious and more hurt than he ever cared to admit.
“You fucking owe me, Noah. Bring her back.”
“Nothing can bring the dead back to live,” Mana said, his eyes sad but his expression set. “As an exorcist, you know this.”
“You can't maker her live again but you can make it so that she's not dead.”
“That's forbidden.”
“And I don't give a fucking damn!” Cross yelled again. “I won't have her die like this!”
“Cross, she already did. Maria would have never wanted this,” Mana answered, and his expression was such a perfect mockery of grief that Cross punched him hard, watching Mana stagger.
But the Noah just sighed, shaking his head. He sat down again, wiping his bloodied lip with his hand, looking at him again and that was fine, because Cross didn't dare to look down at what remained of the woman he loved, not when he could feel his love for her beating desperately inside him, breaking him, and his love for Mana doing the same.
“She wanted to keep on fighting,” Cross answered finally. “She wanted to help. And she wanted to keep on singing. ”
Mana closed his eyes and Cross saw the tears that rolled down Mana's face with a sense of finality.
Mana didn't say yes, but with his face still stricken, he leaned down, kissing Maria's torn, broken lips gently; Cross heard him mutter a 'please, forgive me' and he saw then Mana write in that language of his, all over Maria's body. His eyes had gone white, crosses upon his forehead and he caught Cross caught a bit of Egptina before Mana grabbed his hand.
He didn't ask if he was sure, for what Cross was bitterly thankful. Still muttering his prayers, Mana put Cross' hands on top of Maria's chest, where her heart would have been beating and, eyes locked with his, Mana stabbed through his hand and Maria's heart with a dagger that seemed like a feather.
Cross couldn't stop himself from screaming.: it felt as f his soul was melting away, his body burning and his blood pouring inside of Maria.
He saw light and he thought he could feel her for a moment, right there besides him. Cross gasped and the world focused again. Mana was still whispering his prayers, the knife - when had he taken it out? - in his hand.
Maria's body floated, then, a gold-red chaing wrapping around her like a cocoon. Her uniform fell of her body, a dark gown covering her instead. Bandages wrapped themselves around her throat and her face, and a red and black butterfly covered half of her face, like a mask. He roses Mana had brought were upon her dress, and Cross was a little surprised to find the end of her chain wrapped around his wrist and he wrote, without Mana's help, the rest of the spell.
“Maria's grave,” he called. A coffin appeared out of nowhere, and Cross could stiil feel it, even as Maria's corspe when inside it, even as it disappeared.
“She's still dead,” Mana said finaly, still kneeling by his side. Now both of his hands hurt like a bitch and the distant part of Cross brain that hadn't gone completely crazy in the lapse of a night had started to wonder just how the hell he was going to explain this in Head Quarters, if it was even worthy to try.
“Your life will run through her body, when you summon her, but other than that...”
“Will her Innocence still work?”
“If it's your command, yes.”
Cross smirked, thinking just how much she would've hated to know that. Mana made as if to touch him again, but before he could, Cross had Judgment in his hold and pressing against Mana's forehead, the pain be damned.
“The name of your brother.”
“Cross...” Mana's eyes were still sad and sweet, broken despite the crosses upon his forehead. Had they ever been like that, in the last five year since he had known him? Had Mana ever seemed so human?
“The name, Mana.”
“I'm not going to betray my brother, Exorcist,” Mana answered. “He is my brother and I love him as much as I love you.”
It was surprising, a little, how much those words hurt and how little they changed. Cross didn't let go of Judgment and Mana remained where he was, eyes golden and crosses upon his skin.
“My brother...”
“Is as good as dead,” Cross told Mana, not looking away from him. “Because next time I see him, I will kill him.”
Mana bristled. “Cross.”
“The only thing I'm going to do for you is not to chase him,” Cross added. “But I don't want to see you ever again, or I'll do what I should have done years ago.”
Mana kept on looking at him for long, long minutes before he sighed, bowing his head.
When he looked up his eyes were brown and his forehead was clean, and Cross did nothing when he leaned forward, brushing his lips against his.
“For what its worthy,” Mana said softly, speaking against his lips. “I loved her as well.”
Cross counted the steps Mana took before he disappeared, and it was only when he had counted that number ten times that he stood up.
He had to get new clothes, burn this uniform, give his report. He needed to get himself as drunk as possible.
He needed to disappear.
**
And this was a Nabari no Ou, Yukimi bit that I wrote right after the chapter 53 came out, before the translation and before we found out that Miharu had actually managed to erase Yoite's memory of everyone else, so it doesn't quite work.
His first thought is not about his lack of arm, perhaps because it's still too soon and the phantom pain of the arm that is no longer there distracts him. But Yukimi's first thought is 'Yoite's gone'.
That's what really bothers him, enough that he moves his left arm to cover his eyes for a moment. The kid's gone, and there won't be even ashes to be able to pray for his soul. No more lemon tea and the silent presence at their apartment, no more Yoite's sad, careful eyes when they looked at him.
Yukimi takes a slow, deep breath to try and ease the sudden pang of regret that hits him, something fierce that aches inside his chest. Just sixteen years old, and less than two years later, there's no more Yoite.
His throat closes up and he makes himself cough, rubs at his eyes, curses softly and for a moment, he tries not to think, but he fails at that as well.
Miharu, Yoite had said. And protect him, and he had smiled, and he looked alive the the way that Yukimi had never in two years he had seen him alive. His side aches and Yukimi's careful as he sits down, hissing a little at how the stitches pull, and then he has the moment of discomfort and surprise when he tries to move his right arm and it's not there.
He's still trying to get over that when the door slides open, and Amatatsu is there, her eyes rimmed red, but relief washes over her expression the moment she sees his up.
“You know, you shouldn't stand up,” she says, and she gets closet to him and hugs him. Yukimi moves his one arm to touch her hair as he allows her a moment like this, wondering if Yoite realized that there were going to be people that would have cried for him. “How are you feeling?”
“Beaten and half drugged,” Yukimi says, shrugging. There's nausea as well, and perhaps he should lay down again, but there's things that need to be done. “How's the kid?”
“... Miharu-kun is sleeping. He has been sleeping the same time you have been asleep.”
“How long?”
“Three days. Um, what are you doing?” Amatatsu asks as Yukimi tries to dress. It's going to take time that he doesn't have to learn how to do things with just one arm, but hell: he's a ninja, and if he can't improvise, then he deserves to die.
And he won't die, because he has something to do, a promise to be kept.
“You really shouldn't be moving. You lost way too much blood and--”
He ignores her. Later there'll be time to rest. “The brat is fine, then? Why is he sleeping?”
“Apparently he used the Shiranbashou and it exhausted him.”
Yukimi nods, curses when buttoning his jeans proves harder to do with just one hand, but then he grins when he manages to do it. He decides against trying his luck when changing the shirt he has on, picking up just his jacket. “C'mon then.”
“Brother! Are you even listening to me?! You're hurt, you almost died and--”
“And Yoite's dead and the kid's gonna be broken-hearted when he wakes up,” Yukimi interrupts her, and he hates the way his throat closes, the way his eyes prickle again. He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath because he doesn't have time yet to break down. He has to make sure that things will be ready for Miharu when he wakes up, and this is only one chance in a million for his idea to work, for his idea to, perhaps, save Miharu from thinking that he's all alone now.
He couldn't help Yoite. He tried too late, perhaps, thought too little, didn't do enough until it was too late to stop it. These are the regrets that he's going to carry with him from now on, and Yukimi's ready to shoulder them, because it's the least he can do for the kid he wasn't able to help.
“... I promised Yoite I was gonna take care of the kid, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do,” he answers finally, leaning against the wall. “I can't drive like this and there's something I have to do before Miharu wakes up.”
He hears Amatatsu sniffle, and he wonders if Yoite ever thought that people might miss him, even though Yukimi knows that he probably never did.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaand that's it for now. The rest of the stories I think I'm still going to finish them. But, for now, I should try and finish the last SPK story.