015. (fic) SoulxSoul, Ch.3
title: SoulxSoul; Ch.3
rating/genre: PG-13 (for swears); au, romance, drama
pairing(s): ohmiya; some matsumiya; sakuraiba??
words: 4,070
summary: Nino doesn't think he's crazy, but he doesn't tell anyone about Satoshi anymore. Because how could you tell anyone that you have another person living in your body?
disclaimer: FICTION.
notes: long chapter is long :/ plot heavy. i say that like it's a bad thing XD;; anyway, sorry this took me so long to get out, hope you can enjoy (^^;)
Chapter 1| Chapter 2
Chapter 3
When Nino doesn’t respond quickly enough, Jun grates out an angry “Fine”, and stalks off to his room, slamming the door behind himself. Still caught up in post-coital euphoria, Nino lets his head fall limply onto the back of the couch.
We could just tell him, Satoshi says, slow and sleepy.
Yeah, right. Nino lets out a long sigh. Satoshi, what you just did…
You liked it.
Yes, but-
So did I.
Nino finds his fingers trailing lightly over his bare abdomen without a memory of putting them there.
We’re going to talk about this, he says firmly. But all he gets from Satoshi is an overwhelming sense of sated self-satisfaction.
Too tired to argue any more, the last thing Nino manages to do before completely passing out is to put his pants back on.
***
In the morning, he wakes stiff and cold to the sound of the front door slamming. He sits up with a jerk, wincing at the crick in his neck and lower back. After a moment of confusion, he realizes Jun must have just left.
“Drama queen,” he mutters viciously, rubbing sleep and crust out of his eyes. When his vision finally refocuses, his eyes find the VCR clock.
8:46.
He’s supposed to be at work in fourteen minutes.
Hissing a stream of curses, Nino leaps off the couch. He’s out the door five minutes later, his only concession to personal hygiene being a fresh T-shirt. He grabs a coffee and a pack of breath mints to wash it down as he dashes through the train station and is only ten minutes late when he arrives at his day job at the super market.
But it is the last day of the month, almost everything in the store is on sale, and all the housewives and grandmothers in a ten mile radius seem to be there to shop. There is a line at Nino’s register for the entire day, and he is far too busy to think about what happened at the restaurant, or with Jun, or anything else for that matter.
Satoshi, however, is not. Nino is acutely aware of how the other man’s thoughts keep wandering back to the business card that is still stuffed in Nino’s coat pocket. Last night, also, is still in the forefront of Satoshi’s mind, and all day long Nino keeps feeling those “touches”-curious, experimental-and it makes him shudder and gasp at odd moments. Several customers give him nervous looks, and one elderly woman asks him concernedly if he’s coming down with a cold. Nino plasters on a smile and tells her he’s fine.
Stop it!
Nino feels Satoshi retreat, only a little, grinning.
He leaves the super market at six, only to head straight to the game center. The arcade is just as packed as yesterday, and Ryo keeps asking if Nino is alright. Unable to keep laughing off his distraction, Nino decides to go with “coming down with a cold” after all. He must look at least that bad, because Ryo takes pity on him and tells him to go home early. Nino doesn’t have to be told twice.
But, once he’s off the clock, Satoshi is right there-with him, all around him. They don’t speak, but Nino can feel Satoshi’s impatience, his desire to be alone, just the two of them. Already high strung from two busy shifts, Nino feels ready to snap by the time he walks through his front door.
Any hope of a quiet retreat to his own room is quickly ruined by the sight of Jun, seated on the couch with his arms crossed, looking angry and expectant.
“Hi,” he says, and there seems to be an understood “and what do you have to say for yourself?” in his tone.
Nino just grunts a greeting, feigning obliviousness. He drops his things in a disorderly pile and wanders into the kitchen, if only for an excuse to prolong the inevitable. There’s hardly anything worth bothering with in the fridge, but Nino rummages around for as long as he can before coming away with a half-empty bottle of green tea. As he snaps the refrigerator door shut, he hears Jun speaking from the other room.
“So, what? You’re just not going to talk to me?”
Nino stops in the doorway with a sigh.
“What do you want me to say?” He keeps his voice monotone and unemotional.
Jun stares at him for a moment, anger and disbelief warring across his features. “I think I at least deserve an explanation!”
“Why?” Nino asks coldly. He walks into the living room, past Jun, to sit at his usual spot in front of the couch, leaning forward to turn on his PlayStation. “It’s not like we’re exclusive. We’re not anything-we’re fuck-buddies, Jun, friends with benefits. So I really don’t see how who I sleep with is any of your business.”
Jun is silent, and Nino doesn’t turn to look at him. Honestly, he’s expecting to be punched in the face, or maybe thrown out of the apartment. So he’s surprised by what happens next.
“Right,” Jun mutters quietly. Then he stands and walks calmly to his room. There is no door slamming this time, just the sound of a light switch clicking off, and a body hitting the bed.
Nino finds himself wishing Jun had just punched him.
He stays up until almost dawn, leveling frantically and refusing to think. Satoshi is still there, insistent, but Nino ignores him. Only when he is too tired to keep his eyes open anymore does he drag himself to his bedroom. Tomorrow is a rare and blessed day off and he plans to sleep through as much of it as possible.
Nino flops down onto the bed on his side, fully clothed and uncaring. Unconsciousness is only a few breaths away, but he doesn’t quite get there.
In that warm, dizzy place between sleeping and waking, Nino finds Satoshi waiting for him. He has the impression of the other man lying down facing him, and one of Satoshi’s hands is on his cheek, then his forehead, tracing the contours of his face thoughtfully. Nino watches him, but can’t really see him. But that’s the way it’s always been-the Satoshi he meets here, or in dreams, is an idea of a person, the hint of a smile and the feeling that you’ve seen him before without really knowing what he looks like. Except for his eyes. Nino has always known Satoshi’s soft brown eyes, right down to the darker rim of color around the outside of the iris.
You didn’t need to be so mean to Jun, Satoshi says finally. Please, let’s just tell him the truth.
I can’t, Nino breathes, barely awake at all. He’ll think I’m lying, or crazy. At least this way he’ll stop asking.
You don’t give him enough credit. I think Jun would believe you. He’s different.
I can’t, Nino insists again. Then, What are we going to do?
Without needing to ask, Satoshi knows what Nino’s talking about.
I want to try it, he says, moving his arm down to Nino’s waist and sliding closer. Don’t you?
I…yes, but…
But?
Aren’t you scared? How do we even know we can trust them?
Satoshi is quiet for a little while, thinking.
I guess we don’t, but…I do. There’s something almost…familiar about them.
Nino can’t help but agree, without knowing why. When he is silent for several long moments, Satoshi moves forward to wrap him in warmth.
No one’s going to take me away from you, he says to Nino’s unspoken fears. We won’t let them. Right?
Nino lets out a slow, comfortable sigh. Right.
And then he is asleep, dreaming of the softest kisses and gentle fingertips dancing over his skin.
***
“Hello? This is Sakurai.”
“It’s me. Ninomiya.”
“Ah, Ninomiya-kun, I was hoping-”
“We’ll try it. The transfer or…or whatever it is. Where do we meet you?”
“Let me get you the address.”
***
On Thursday morning, Nino finds himself in front of an unassuming three-story building with the words Kitagawa Clinic in neat lettering over the sliding double doors.
Suddenly, Satoshi is having second thoughts.
They said they weren’t doctors…
Nino twists his lips ruefully, but refrains from any “I told you so”s.
Well, we’re already here. Let’s just get this over with.
The automatic doors swoosh smoothly open when Nino enters. The reception area is a standard white and beige themed room with a few pastel-toned watercolor paintings on the wall. Aside from the receptionist, there is no one there but Sakurai, who is waiting by the front desk. Today he’s traded in his trench coat for a neatly pressed suit in dark blue.
“Ninomiya-kun,” he says with a polite bow.
“What is this place?” Nino asks, skipping the formalities.
Sakurai’s smile strains just a little. “The hospital exterior is just a disguise,” he says reassuringly. “We can’t exactly advertise what we do here.”
“What do you do here?” Nino asks as the other man leads him through a doorway in the back of the room.
Through the door there is a short hallway ending in another door. It reminds Nino oddly of an airlock, something out of a science-fiction movie, especially when he sees the high-tech looking keypad next to the far door,
“I’d need a lot more time then we have to explain that,” Sakurai replies. He punches a few numbers on the keypad, there is a faint buzz, a click, and he pushes open the door.
Nino’s not sure what he’s expecting. More white walls and hospital rooms, maybe. But beyond the threshold, the “clinic” looks like nothing more than a rather run-down office building. They are walking down a long hallway with open doors all along either side. There is faded, tacky wallpaper peeling off the walls; several bulletin boards covered in papers; over-filled filing cabinets spilling out of the offices and into the hallway.
Nino steals a glance at a stack of paper on top of one of the cabinets, but the uppermost sheet is covered in nothing but long, incomprehensible strings of numbers and roman characters. The bulletin boards, too, are a mystery. There are sheets that look like graphs with no data on them, a few other semi-official looking documents, but the rest is just junk. Movie posters from the 80s, a flyer from the pizza place down the block, and even an old candy wrapper. Nino sees other people-“employees” seems the wrong word, but he doesn’t know what to call them-moving in and out of the offices and looking preoccupied.
“Of course,” Sakurai continues, “I will be explaining a little more about the transmigration process before we actually start the transfer. We’ve got everything set up right over-oh, Ikuta-kun!”
Sakurai is addressing a young man in shirtsleeves and a tie who just bounded out of a stairway up ahead, but Ikuta seems oblivious and dashes past them without a pause.
“Ikuta-kun!” Sakurai tries again, and when the young man turns into one of the offices without a backwards glance: “TOHMA!”
The young man’s head pops back into the hallway. “What? I mean, yes? Sir?”
“Is Aiba still in his office?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, sir. He’s still working on that file you gave him.”
“Good. If anyone needs me, I’ll be upstairs in Room 4. But page the phone first, please.”
“Yessir.”
And then Ikuta disappears again. Sakurai gives Nino an apologetic smile, and then leads him up the staircase Ikuta just descended. One floor up the hallway is a little neater and all the doors are shut, but Nino is hard pressed to find anything about the building that’s threatening. Confusing, yes, but not threatening or suspicious. Satoshi is still puzzling over the heart-shaped stickers he spotted on a wall downstairs when Sakurai leads them into a room on the right-hand side of the hallway.
It looks almost like a study, with a few bookshelves against the walls, a small desk in the corner, and a pair of low-backed leather armchairs facing each other across the room. And against the back wall, another door. Sakurai takes one of the chairs, and motions for Nino to take the other.
“I don’t get it,” Nino complains as he drops into his chair. The leather lets out an undignified squeak.
“Pardon?”
“This place. It sounded so official and important when you talked about it before. But this is so…” he’s momentarily at a loss for words, and Satoshi finishes the sentence for him.
“Unreal.”
Sakurai’s brows crease for a moment, then he gives a little shrug. “I’ll admit, the first floor is a bit of a mess,” he chuckles. “We’re working on getting it cleaned up.”
Nino gets the feeling that Sakurai is being purposefully obtuse. Before he can say anything more on the subject, the other man is clearing his throat and preparing to speak again.
“Anyway, as I told you the other night, the ASD is mainly concerned with the study of transmigration of the soul, or what is commonly called re-”
“Reincarnation, yeah,” Nino says impatiently.
Sakurai, apparently a master of being interrupted, barely blinks. “Reincarnation, yes. What we’re doing today is part of a long-term project dealing with controlled migration.”
“So…picking which body a soul goes into next?”
“Basically, that’s the idea.”
“That seems kind of…wrong,” Nino says skeptically.
“It was something that was started to help people, not unlike yourself, with special circumstances. As I’m sure you can tell, we’re not exactly an evil organization bent on world domination or anything.”
Nino just makes a noncommittal noise in his throat. “So how does this work? Do I get plugged up to something? Do I have to meditate for several hours?”
“Follow me,” Sakurai replies simply, standing and moving towards the far door.
On the other side is another nondescript little room that looks like it might have once been a bedroom. A set of drawers stands in the corner. There is a window but whatever view it might offer is hidden by thick curtains. Inexplicably, there is a painting of a lake hung by the door. In the middle of the room there is another pair of chairs facing each other, but these are simple ladder-backed wooden chairs, and next to them is a strange kind of low table.
After closer inspection, Nino realizes it’s not really a table but some kind of machine, about two feet by four, plain white and sleek. It almost looks like an enormous computer tower. It even has the same low hum. On top of the device at opposite ends there are two faintly glowing blue circles, a few buttons and a keypad.
But what makes Nino jump when Sakurai first opens the door is the presence of another person in the room.
“This is just the Host,” Sakurai says, motioning to the still form in the chair facing the door. “The manufactured body for the transfer.”
Nino feels his skin crawl. Now that Sakurai has said so, Nino realizes that the “person” is not really a person-just something that has the shape of one. It’s wearing dark pants and a plain white dress shirt. It has a short, generic haircut. But the face is too smooth, too symmetrical to be real, like the face of a doll. When Sakurai motions for Nino to take the chair opposite the Host, he almost can’t do it.
“This,” Sakurai says, fiddling with the purring device, “is a Soul Transfer System. Most of us just call it ‘The Palm Reader’.” He smiles wryly at this, then continues at Nino’s look of confusion.
“Your hand goes here, on this ring,” he taps the glowing circle closest to Nino, “and the Host’s goes on the other. Now, something I have to explain here is that all souls have what we call a ‘Code’, kind of like the DNA we have in our bodies. It’s the blueprint for the soul, and it’s what stores their personality and memories, as well as how they will appear in each cycle of rebirth. If we program Satoshi’s Code into the Reader, we’ll be able to transfer him to the Host.”
“And how exactly do we do that?” Nino snaps. This whole situation is making him edgy, and the presence of the unmoving Host body isn’t helping.
“I’ll need you to let Satoshi take over for a moment,” Sakurai murmurs distractedly while he punches buttons, like this whole conversation-this whole situation-isn’t completely bizarre. When Nino doesn’t reply, he glances up. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” Nino says, tearing his eyes away from the Host. “Just…hang on a second.”
Nino lets his eyes slide shut, brushes up against Satoshi in his mind.
It’s okay. Go ahead. Satoshi is strangely quiet. Satoshi?
…What if I can’t get back?
What?
From that other body. What if I’m stuck?
Though Nino finds himself mildly annoyed at Satoshi’s hesitance-he was the one who wanted to do this so badly in the first place-he is understanding.
We can leave. Right now. We don’t have to do this.
Satoshi contemplates this for a few moments, and Nino feels his fear battling with his curiosity. Eventually, he makes up his mind.
No. No, I’ll stay. I’ll try.
And then, without any more warning, Satoshi pushes Nino’s consciousness back and away. It’s a little startling how easily and quickly he does this.
“Alright,” Satoshi says aloud, “I’m here.”
Sakurai nods, punches a few more buttons, and the Reader begins to hum at a slightly higher frequency. Nino is aware, from a distance, of a faint tingling in his hand where it touches the machine.
“Good,” Sakurai says, only a moment later. “I think we’re ready to proceed.”
Satoshi retreats again as Sakurai lifts the Host’s hand and places it on the opposite ring.
“I’m programming it for the transfer now,” Sakurai says. “It will take about a minute for the whole process to finish. I’m going to step out of the room, and give you some privacy. Just shout or knock on the door if you need anything.”
“You’re leaving?” Nino asks, surprised.
Sakurai gives him an awkward kind of a smile. “I imagine this will be something of an…intimate moment. However,” and he pauses here, uncertainly. “I don’t…well, the Host body is different from a normal human body, so I recommend that you don’t try to touch it.”
Nino feels a faint blush starting in his cheeks, and wonders just how much Sakurai knows or has guessed. Too embarrassed to speak, he just nods. Pushing a final sequence of numbers, Sakurai leaves the room, shutting the door quietly.
One minute. Nino hears the hum of the Reader change again, and the tingles begin in his hand, but it seems like hours before anything really starts to happen. He glances around the room nervously, trying to keep his breathing even.
And then he feels it. The tingles start to spread, up his arm and across his chest, freezing him in place like an electrical current. And then it pulls. He feels something being drawn out of him, away, and he squeezes his eyes closed, fighting it while knowing he shouldn’t. Satoshi gives him a last reassuring embrace, and then…
Gone.
The sensation of loss is immediate and terrible. The space that housed Satoshi’s presence is empty, vast, and Nino lets out a small choked gasp.
“Kazu?”
The sound of that too familiar voice coming from outside his own head makes his heart stop. Nino’s eyes fly open.
Somehow, the body in the chair across from him has changed. The Host is no longer a lifeless doll. Its skin-his skin-is a gently tanned brown, his face is round and soft, full lips, and those dark hazel eyes. His hair is straight and a little shaggy, hanging down around his ears. He has raised his hands to look at them wonderingly, and his fingers are long and elegant, artistic.
“Satoshi.” Nino barely whispers the name, because it’s happening, he’s seeing Satoshi for the first time and he has no words for how it feels.
They just stare at each other for several long moments. Nino is thoroughly entranced by Satoshi’s face, the line of his brows, the way his mouth hangs open just a little.
“You look…like you,” he manages eventually, still a bit breathless.
“What’s ‘like me’?” Satoshi asks. And then Nino sees his smile, and can’t help smiling back.
“Kind of dumb,” he teases, “but cute.”
“Ah. I’m glad Kazu thinks I’m cute.”
Satoshi’s full-fledged, brilliant smile is just too much, and Nino forgets Sakurai’s previous cautions and throws his arms around the other man-to finally, really, touch him.
But he pulls away almost immediately, stumbling back into his own chair and knocking it over with a clatter. Satoshi is looking equally stricken, arms still held out for an embrace.
Because when he put his arms around Satoshi, Nino couldn’t feel a thing. There was no warmth, or soft skin, just nothingness. He could see his arms around Satoshi’s neck, knew he was pressed against Satoshi’s chest, but there was only a lack of sensation, no sense of meeting resistance. It was as if his muscles simply refused to contract any further. Like he was holding empty air.
“Kazu…what…?”
Nino is just shaking his head, feeling suddenly panicked, frantic.
“I can’t touch you. Why can’t I touch you?” He steps forward and places a hand against Satoshi’s face, but the result is the same. As if his hand has just stopped where he knows Satoshi should be.
“No,” he whispers. And then he is shouting.
“NO!”
***
Sho closes the door behind himself gently. After a pause, he moves to the left and presses a cleverly concealed panel on the top of a low bookshelf. A section of wall next to the door, roughly window-sized, slides open to reveal a slightly darkened view into the room where Nino is seated. The painting of the lake on the other side of the hidden opening makes everything an odd blue color.
He crosses his arms to wait for the first sixty seconds of the transfer to pass, but is interrupted by the door to the hallway opening.
“I asked you to page-” he begins, but trails away when he sees Aiba coming through the door, looking sheepish.
“Sorry, Sho-kun, I just asked Tohma where you were and he said you were up here, so…” Aiba peers around the older man curiously, and his eyes light up as he crosses the room. “Oh, it’s Ninomiya-kun! Why didn’t you tell me he was coming today?”
“Did you finish that paperwork I gave you?” Sho says weakly. Aiba really shouldn’t be here. He’s going to kill Tohma when he finds him.
“Well-no, not exactly. It was really boring!” he complains, seeing the look on Sho’s face. “I’ll do it later, I promise.” He looks back towards the hidden window. “Oh! Look! That must be Satoshi!”
Sho glances back and sees that the Host has taken on Satoshi’s Code, and seems to be speaking to Ninomiya.
“It really is kind of important, though, that file” he tries desperately. “I can handle this on my own, it’s just a preliminary-”
“Wait,” Aiba cuts him off. He’s staring into the other room now with wide, almost frightened eyes. “Something’s…”
Sho can hear Ninomiya’s voice dimly through the glass, Why can’t I touch you? He needs to get Aiba out of here, this is too similar, too much of a trigger-but he knows it’s already too late when Aiba turns to face him. Aiba’s eyes search his face, flickering back and forth across his features.
“Sho-chan,” he says, and it is a hesitant question. Then, something clicks, Aiba’s eyes widen again. “Sho-chan!”
Before Sho can move away, Aiba’s hand darts out to grab him by the wrist. His reaction is just like Nino’s-he drops Sho’s arm again almost immediately, hissing like he’s been burned.
“Why?” Aiba asks. He looks so lost and scared, but Sho can do nothing but stand and stare at him sadly. “This isn’t how-I can’t-I don’t understand-”
“Masaki, please,” Sho begins, but Aiba is backing away towards the far door. “I can explain, just-”
Before he can finish, Aiba runs.
chapter 4
Author's Note: ......cliff-hanger omgee XD;;
1) had to throw the Tohma camio in there, sorry if he's completely OOC. bonus points for anyone who caught the other JE reference :P
2) Jun really gets the shit end of the stick in this fic :( and he's such a GIRL when i write him, gosh. i'll have to work on that.
3) have no idea what will be happening in Ch.4, so your patience is appreciated m(__)m i'm also hoping to do some nice, fluffy one-shots in the meantime, as this fic is just so DRAMATIC!!1! it kind of gets to me after a while.
thanks for reading, everyone!
rating/genre: PG-13 (for swears); au, romance, drama
pairing(s): ohmiya; some matsumiya; sakuraiba??
words: 4,070
summary: Nino doesn't think he's crazy, but he doesn't tell anyone about Satoshi anymore. Because how could you tell anyone that you have another person living in your body?
disclaimer: FICTION.
notes: long chapter is long :/ plot heavy. i say that like it's a bad thing XD;; anyway, sorry this took me so long to get out, hope you can enjoy (^^;)
Chapter 1| Chapter 2
Chapter 3
When Nino doesn’t respond quickly enough, Jun grates out an angry “Fine”, and stalks off to his room, slamming the door behind himself. Still caught up in post-coital euphoria, Nino lets his head fall limply onto the back of the couch.
We could just tell him, Satoshi says, slow and sleepy.
Yeah, right. Nino lets out a long sigh. Satoshi, what you just did…
You liked it.
Yes, but-
So did I.
Nino finds his fingers trailing lightly over his bare abdomen without a memory of putting them there.
We’re going to talk about this, he says firmly. But all he gets from Satoshi is an overwhelming sense of sated self-satisfaction.
Too tired to argue any more, the last thing Nino manages to do before completely passing out is to put his pants back on.
***
In the morning, he wakes stiff and cold to the sound of the front door slamming. He sits up with a jerk, wincing at the crick in his neck and lower back. After a moment of confusion, he realizes Jun must have just left.
“Drama queen,” he mutters viciously, rubbing sleep and crust out of his eyes. When his vision finally refocuses, his eyes find the VCR clock.
8:46.
He’s supposed to be at work in fourteen minutes.
Hissing a stream of curses, Nino leaps off the couch. He’s out the door five minutes later, his only concession to personal hygiene being a fresh T-shirt. He grabs a coffee and a pack of breath mints to wash it down as he dashes through the train station and is only ten minutes late when he arrives at his day job at the super market.
But it is the last day of the month, almost everything in the store is on sale, and all the housewives and grandmothers in a ten mile radius seem to be there to shop. There is a line at Nino’s register for the entire day, and he is far too busy to think about what happened at the restaurant, or with Jun, or anything else for that matter.
Satoshi, however, is not. Nino is acutely aware of how the other man’s thoughts keep wandering back to the business card that is still stuffed in Nino’s coat pocket. Last night, also, is still in the forefront of Satoshi’s mind, and all day long Nino keeps feeling those “touches”-curious, experimental-and it makes him shudder and gasp at odd moments. Several customers give him nervous looks, and one elderly woman asks him concernedly if he’s coming down with a cold. Nino plasters on a smile and tells her he’s fine.
Stop it!
Nino feels Satoshi retreat, only a little, grinning.
He leaves the super market at six, only to head straight to the game center. The arcade is just as packed as yesterday, and Ryo keeps asking if Nino is alright. Unable to keep laughing off his distraction, Nino decides to go with “coming down with a cold” after all. He must look at least that bad, because Ryo takes pity on him and tells him to go home early. Nino doesn’t have to be told twice.
But, once he’s off the clock, Satoshi is right there-with him, all around him. They don’t speak, but Nino can feel Satoshi’s impatience, his desire to be alone, just the two of them. Already high strung from two busy shifts, Nino feels ready to snap by the time he walks through his front door.
Any hope of a quiet retreat to his own room is quickly ruined by the sight of Jun, seated on the couch with his arms crossed, looking angry and expectant.
“Hi,” he says, and there seems to be an understood “and what do you have to say for yourself?” in his tone.
Nino just grunts a greeting, feigning obliviousness. He drops his things in a disorderly pile and wanders into the kitchen, if only for an excuse to prolong the inevitable. There’s hardly anything worth bothering with in the fridge, but Nino rummages around for as long as he can before coming away with a half-empty bottle of green tea. As he snaps the refrigerator door shut, he hears Jun speaking from the other room.
“So, what? You’re just not going to talk to me?”
Nino stops in the doorway with a sigh.
“What do you want me to say?” He keeps his voice monotone and unemotional.
Jun stares at him for a moment, anger and disbelief warring across his features. “I think I at least deserve an explanation!”
“Why?” Nino asks coldly. He walks into the living room, past Jun, to sit at his usual spot in front of the couch, leaning forward to turn on his PlayStation. “It’s not like we’re exclusive. We’re not anything-we’re fuck-buddies, Jun, friends with benefits. So I really don’t see how who I sleep with is any of your business.”
Jun is silent, and Nino doesn’t turn to look at him. Honestly, he’s expecting to be punched in the face, or maybe thrown out of the apartment. So he’s surprised by what happens next.
“Right,” Jun mutters quietly. Then he stands and walks calmly to his room. There is no door slamming this time, just the sound of a light switch clicking off, and a body hitting the bed.
Nino finds himself wishing Jun had just punched him.
He stays up until almost dawn, leveling frantically and refusing to think. Satoshi is still there, insistent, but Nino ignores him. Only when he is too tired to keep his eyes open anymore does he drag himself to his bedroom. Tomorrow is a rare and blessed day off and he plans to sleep through as much of it as possible.
Nino flops down onto the bed on his side, fully clothed and uncaring. Unconsciousness is only a few breaths away, but he doesn’t quite get there.
In that warm, dizzy place between sleeping and waking, Nino finds Satoshi waiting for him. He has the impression of the other man lying down facing him, and one of Satoshi’s hands is on his cheek, then his forehead, tracing the contours of his face thoughtfully. Nino watches him, but can’t really see him. But that’s the way it’s always been-the Satoshi he meets here, or in dreams, is an idea of a person, the hint of a smile and the feeling that you’ve seen him before without really knowing what he looks like. Except for his eyes. Nino has always known Satoshi’s soft brown eyes, right down to the darker rim of color around the outside of the iris.
You didn’t need to be so mean to Jun, Satoshi says finally. Please, let’s just tell him the truth.
I can’t, Nino breathes, barely awake at all. He’ll think I’m lying, or crazy. At least this way he’ll stop asking.
You don’t give him enough credit. I think Jun would believe you. He’s different.
I can’t, Nino insists again. Then, What are we going to do?
Without needing to ask, Satoshi knows what Nino’s talking about.
I want to try it, he says, moving his arm down to Nino’s waist and sliding closer. Don’t you?
I…yes, but…
But?
Aren’t you scared? How do we even know we can trust them?
Satoshi is quiet for a little while, thinking.
I guess we don’t, but…I do. There’s something almost…familiar about them.
Nino can’t help but agree, without knowing why. When he is silent for several long moments, Satoshi moves forward to wrap him in warmth.
No one’s going to take me away from you, he says to Nino’s unspoken fears. We won’t let them. Right?
Nino lets out a slow, comfortable sigh. Right.
And then he is asleep, dreaming of the softest kisses and gentle fingertips dancing over his skin.
***
“Hello? This is Sakurai.”
“It’s me. Ninomiya.”
“Ah, Ninomiya-kun, I was hoping-”
“We’ll try it. The transfer or…or whatever it is. Where do we meet you?”
“Let me get you the address.”
***
On Thursday morning, Nino finds himself in front of an unassuming three-story building with the words Kitagawa Clinic in neat lettering over the sliding double doors.
Suddenly, Satoshi is having second thoughts.
They said they weren’t doctors…
Nino twists his lips ruefully, but refrains from any “I told you so”s.
Well, we’re already here. Let’s just get this over with.
The automatic doors swoosh smoothly open when Nino enters. The reception area is a standard white and beige themed room with a few pastel-toned watercolor paintings on the wall. Aside from the receptionist, there is no one there but Sakurai, who is waiting by the front desk. Today he’s traded in his trench coat for a neatly pressed suit in dark blue.
“Ninomiya-kun,” he says with a polite bow.
“What is this place?” Nino asks, skipping the formalities.
Sakurai’s smile strains just a little. “The hospital exterior is just a disguise,” he says reassuringly. “We can’t exactly advertise what we do here.”
“What do you do here?” Nino asks as the other man leads him through a doorway in the back of the room.
Through the door there is a short hallway ending in another door. It reminds Nino oddly of an airlock, something out of a science-fiction movie, especially when he sees the high-tech looking keypad next to the far door,
“I’d need a lot more time then we have to explain that,” Sakurai replies. He punches a few numbers on the keypad, there is a faint buzz, a click, and he pushes open the door.
Nino’s not sure what he’s expecting. More white walls and hospital rooms, maybe. But beyond the threshold, the “clinic” looks like nothing more than a rather run-down office building. They are walking down a long hallway with open doors all along either side. There is faded, tacky wallpaper peeling off the walls; several bulletin boards covered in papers; over-filled filing cabinets spilling out of the offices and into the hallway.
Nino steals a glance at a stack of paper on top of one of the cabinets, but the uppermost sheet is covered in nothing but long, incomprehensible strings of numbers and roman characters. The bulletin boards, too, are a mystery. There are sheets that look like graphs with no data on them, a few other semi-official looking documents, but the rest is just junk. Movie posters from the 80s, a flyer from the pizza place down the block, and even an old candy wrapper. Nino sees other people-“employees” seems the wrong word, but he doesn’t know what to call them-moving in and out of the offices and looking preoccupied.
“Of course,” Sakurai continues, “I will be explaining a little more about the transmigration process before we actually start the transfer. We’ve got everything set up right over-oh, Ikuta-kun!”
Sakurai is addressing a young man in shirtsleeves and a tie who just bounded out of a stairway up ahead, but Ikuta seems oblivious and dashes past them without a pause.
“Ikuta-kun!” Sakurai tries again, and when the young man turns into one of the offices without a backwards glance: “TOHMA!”
The young man’s head pops back into the hallway. “What? I mean, yes? Sir?”
“Is Aiba still in his office?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, sir. He’s still working on that file you gave him.”
“Good. If anyone needs me, I’ll be upstairs in Room 4. But page the phone first, please.”
“Yessir.”
And then Ikuta disappears again. Sakurai gives Nino an apologetic smile, and then leads him up the staircase Ikuta just descended. One floor up the hallway is a little neater and all the doors are shut, but Nino is hard pressed to find anything about the building that’s threatening. Confusing, yes, but not threatening or suspicious. Satoshi is still puzzling over the heart-shaped stickers he spotted on a wall downstairs when Sakurai leads them into a room on the right-hand side of the hallway.
It looks almost like a study, with a few bookshelves against the walls, a small desk in the corner, and a pair of low-backed leather armchairs facing each other across the room. And against the back wall, another door. Sakurai takes one of the chairs, and motions for Nino to take the other.
“I don’t get it,” Nino complains as he drops into his chair. The leather lets out an undignified squeak.
“Pardon?”
“This place. It sounded so official and important when you talked about it before. But this is so…” he’s momentarily at a loss for words, and Satoshi finishes the sentence for him.
“Unreal.”
Sakurai’s brows crease for a moment, then he gives a little shrug. “I’ll admit, the first floor is a bit of a mess,” he chuckles. “We’re working on getting it cleaned up.”
Nino gets the feeling that Sakurai is being purposefully obtuse. Before he can say anything more on the subject, the other man is clearing his throat and preparing to speak again.
“Anyway, as I told you the other night, the ASD is mainly concerned with the study of transmigration of the soul, or what is commonly called re-”
“Reincarnation, yeah,” Nino says impatiently.
Sakurai, apparently a master of being interrupted, barely blinks. “Reincarnation, yes. What we’re doing today is part of a long-term project dealing with controlled migration.”
“So…picking which body a soul goes into next?”
“Basically, that’s the idea.”
“That seems kind of…wrong,” Nino says skeptically.
“It was something that was started to help people, not unlike yourself, with special circumstances. As I’m sure you can tell, we’re not exactly an evil organization bent on world domination or anything.”
Nino just makes a noncommittal noise in his throat. “So how does this work? Do I get plugged up to something? Do I have to meditate for several hours?”
“Follow me,” Sakurai replies simply, standing and moving towards the far door.
On the other side is another nondescript little room that looks like it might have once been a bedroom. A set of drawers stands in the corner. There is a window but whatever view it might offer is hidden by thick curtains. Inexplicably, there is a painting of a lake hung by the door. In the middle of the room there is another pair of chairs facing each other, but these are simple ladder-backed wooden chairs, and next to them is a strange kind of low table.
After closer inspection, Nino realizes it’s not really a table but some kind of machine, about two feet by four, plain white and sleek. It almost looks like an enormous computer tower. It even has the same low hum. On top of the device at opposite ends there are two faintly glowing blue circles, a few buttons and a keypad.
But what makes Nino jump when Sakurai first opens the door is the presence of another person in the room.
“This is just the Host,” Sakurai says, motioning to the still form in the chair facing the door. “The manufactured body for the transfer.”
Nino feels his skin crawl. Now that Sakurai has said so, Nino realizes that the “person” is not really a person-just something that has the shape of one. It’s wearing dark pants and a plain white dress shirt. It has a short, generic haircut. But the face is too smooth, too symmetrical to be real, like the face of a doll. When Sakurai motions for Nino to take the chair opposite the Host, he almost can’t do it.
“This,” Sakurai says, fiddling with the purring device, “is a Soul Transfer System. Most of us just call it ‘The Palm Reader’.” He smiles wryly at this, then continues at Nino’s look of confusion.
“Your hand goes here, on this ring,” he taps the glowing circle closest to Nino, “and the Host’s goes on the other. Now, something I have to explain here is that all souls have what we call a ‘Code’, kind of like the DNA we have in our bodies. It’s the blueprint for the soul, and it’s what stores their personality and memories, as well as how they will appear in each cycle of rebirth. If we program Satoshi’s Code into the Reader, we’ll be able to transfer him to the Host.”
“And how exactly do we do that?” Nino snaps. This whole situation is making him edgy, and the presence of the unmoving Host body isn’t helping.
“I’ll need you to let Satoshi take over for a moment,” Sakurai murmurs distractedly while he punches buttons, like this whole conversation-this whole situation-isn’t completely bizarre. When Nino doesn’t reply, he glances up. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” Nino says, tearing his eyes away from the Host. “Just…hang on a second.”
Nino lets his eyes slide shut, brushes up against Satoshi in his mind.
It’s okay. Go ahead. Satoshi is strangely quiet. Satoshi?
…What if I can’t get back?
What?
From that other body. What if I’m stuck?
Though Nino finds himself mildly annoyed at Satoshi’s hesitance-he was the one who wanted to do this so badly in the first place-he is understanding.
We can leave. Right now. We don’t have to do this.
Satoshi contemplates this for a few moments, and Nino feels his fear battling with his curiosity. Eventually, he makes up his mind.
No. No, I’ll stay. I’ll try.
And then, without any more warning, Satoshi pushes Nino’s consciousness back and away. It’s a little startling how easily and quickly he does this.
“Alright,” Satoshi says aloud, “I’m here.”
Sakurai nods, punches a few more buttons, and the Reader begins to hum at a slightly higher frequency. Nino is aware, from a distance, of a faint tingling in his hand where it touches the machine.
“Good,” Sakurai says, only a moment later. “I think we’re ready to proceed.”
Satoshi retreats again as Sakurai lifts the Host’s hand and places it on the opposite ring.
“I’m programming it for the transfer now,” Sakurai says. “It will take about a minute for the whole process to finish. I’m going to step out of the room, and give you some privacy. Just shout or knock on the door if you need anything.”
“You’re leaving?” Nino asks, surprised.
Sakurai gives him an awkward kind of a smile. “I imagine this will be something of an…intimate moment. However,” and he pauses here, uncertainly. “I don’t…well, the Host body is different from a normal human body, so I recommend that you don’t try to touch it.”
Nino feels a faint blush starting in his cheeks, and wonders just how much Sakurai knows or has guessed. Too embarrassed to speak, he just nods. Pushing a final sequence of numbers, Sakurai leaves the room, shutting the door quietly.
One minute. Nino hears the hum of the Reader change again, and the tingles begin in his hand, but it seems like hours before anything really starts to happen. He glances around the room nervously, trying to keep his breathing even.
And then he feels it. The tingles start to spread, up his arm and across his chest, freezing him in place like an electrical current. And then it pulls. He feels something being drawn out of him, away, and he squeezes his eyes closed, fighting it while knowing he shouldn’t. Satoshi gives him a last reassuring embrace, and then…
Gone.
The sensation of loss is immediate and terrible. The space that housed Satoshi’s presence is empty, vast, and Nino lets out a small choked gasp.
“Kazu?”
The sound of that too familiar voice coming from outside his own head makes his heart stop. Nino’s eyes fly open.
Somehow, the body in the chair across from him has changed. The Host is no longer a lifeless doll. Its skin-his skin-is a gently tanned brown, his face is round and soft, full lips, and those dark hazel eyes. His hair is straight and a little shaggy, hanging down around his ears. He has raised his hands to look at them wonderingly, and his fingers are long and elegant, artistic.
“Satoshi.” Nino barely whispers the name, because it’s happening, he’s seeing Satoshi for the first time and he has no words for how it feels.
They just stare at each other for several long moments. Nino is thoroughly entranced by Satoshi’s face, the line of his brows, the way his mouth hangs open just a little.
“You look…like you,” he manages eventually, still a bit breathless.
“What’s ‘like me’?” Satoshi asks. And then Nino sees his smile, and can’t help smiling back.
“Kind of dumb,” he teases, “but cute.”
“Ah. I’m glad Kazu thinks I’m cute.”
Satoshi’s full-fledged, brilliant smile is just too much, and Nino forgets Sakurai’s previous cautions and throws his arms around the other man-to finally, really, touch him.
But he pulls away almost immediately, stumbling back into his own chair and knocking it over with a clatter. Satoshi is looking equally stricken, arms still held out for an embrace.
Because when he put his arms around Satoshi, Nino couldn’t feel a thing. There was no warmth, or soft skin, just nothingness. He could see his arms around Satoshi’s neck, knew he was pressed against Satoshi’s chest, but there was only a lack of sensation, no sense of meeting resistance. It was as if his muscles simply refused to contract any further. Like he was holding empty air.
“Kazu…what…?”
Nino is just shaking his head, feeling suddenly panicked, frantic.
“I can’t touch you. Why can’t I touch you?” He steps forward and places a hand against Satoshi’s face, but the result is the same. As if his hand has just stopped where he knows Satoshi should be.
“No,” he whispers. And then he is shouting.
“NO!”
***
Sho closes the door behind himself gently. After a pause, he moves to the left and presses a cleverly concealed panel on the top of a low bookshelf. A section of wall next to the door, roughly window-sized, slides open to reveal a slightly darkened view into the room where Nino is seated. The painting of the lake on the other side of the hidden opening makes everything an odd blue color.
He crosses his arms to wait for the first sixty seconds of the transfer to pass, but is interrupted by the door to the hallway opening.
“I asked you to page-” he begins, but trails away when he sees Aiba coming through the door, looking sheepish.
“Sorry, Sho-kun, I just asked Tohma where you were and he said you were up here, so…” Aiba peers around the older man curiously, and his eyes light up as he crosses the room. “Oh, it’s Ninomiya-kun! Why didn’t you tell me he was coming today?”
“Did you finish that paperwork I gave you?” Sho says weakly. Aiba really shouldn’t be here. He’s going to kill Tohma when he finds him.
“Well-no, not exactly. It was really boring!” he complains, seeing the look on Sho’s face. “I’ll do it later, I promise.” He looks back towards the hidden window. “Oh! Look! That must be Satoshi!”
Sho glances back and sees that the Host has taken on Satoshi’s Code, and seems to be speaking to Ninomiya.
“It really is kind of important, though, that file” he tries desperately. “I can handle this on my own, it’s just a preliminary-”
“Wait,” Aiba cuts him off. He’s staring into the other room now with wide, almost frightened eyes. “Something’s…”
Sho can hear Ninomiya’s voice dimly through the glass, Why can’t I touch you? He needs to get Aiba out of here, this is too similar, too much of a trigger-but he knows it’s already too late when Aiba turns to face him. Aiba’s eyes search his face, flickering back and forth across his features.
“Sho-chan,” he says, and it is a hesitant question. Then, something clicks, Aiba’s eyes widen again. “Sho-chan!”
Before Sho can move away, Aiba’s hand darts out to grab him by the wrist. His reaction is just like Nino’s-he drops Sho’s arm again almost immediately, hissing like he’s been burned.
“Why?” Aiba asks. He looks so lost and scared, but Sho can do nothing but stand and stare at him sadly. “This isn’t how-I can’t-I don’t understand-”
“Masaki, please,” Sho begins, but Aiba is backing away towards the far door. “I can explain, just-”
Before he can finish, Aiba runs.
chapter 4
Author's Note: ......cliff-hanger omgee XD;;
1) had to throw the Tohma camio in there, sorry if he's completely OOC. bonus points for anyone who caught the other JE reference :P
2) Jun really gets the shit end of the stick in this fic :( and he's such a GIRL when i write him, gosh. i'll have to work on that.
3) have no idea what will be happening in Ch.4, so your patience is appreciated m(__)m i'm also hoping to do some nice, fluffy one-shots in the meantime, as this fic is just so DRAMATIC!!1! it kind of gets to me after a while.
thanks for reading, everyone!