[Let the Games Begin] Chapter 4: "Not According to Plan"
Being the seventh part of Fifteen Mokona on a Dead Man's Chest, this is a sequel to:
I: Rum & Popcorn, II: Talk Like a Pirate Day, III: Slings and Arrows, IV: You Got It, V: Dark and Stormy, and VI: Dim Smitten Star.
This series is a broad "Pirates vs. Ninjas" alternate universe comprised of short, multi-chapter stories that can each be read on their own. They are, however, also coherent if you decide start at the beginning and some may prefer them that way.
TITLE: Let the Games Begin
CHAPTER: 4 of 12 - "Not According to Plan"
SERIES: X, Tokyo Babylon, xxxHoLic, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Magic Knight Rayearth, Card Captor Sakura, CLAMP School Detectives, Chobits, Suki Dakara Suki, Legend of Chun Hyang, Gate 7, Code Geass, WISH, RG Veda, Miyuki-chan in Wonderland, Shirahime-Syo, Angelic Layer, CLAMP in Wonderland, Nijuu Mensou ni Onegai!! (Man of Many Faces), Campus Defenders Duklyon (many drive-by cameos, other series may appear later)
PAIRINGS: Featured - Doumeki Shizuka x Watanuki Kimihiro, Takamura Suoh x Imonoyama Nokoru. Background or unrealized - Lantis x Shidou Hikaru x Eagle Vision, Kurogane x Fai D. Fluorite, Li Syaoran x Sakura, Li Meiling > Li Syaoran, Shirou Kamui pining for Fuuma and/or Kotori while angsting over his friendship with Sumeragi Subaru, Shirou Kamui & Shidou Hikaru (friendship), Daidouji Tomoyo > Sakura... Am I missing anything? Probably not anything significant. Chapters may vary.
DISCLAIMER: Everything in the CLAMP Megaverse was originally created by CLAMP. They are entirely to blame for creating a system of crossovers that do not easily disclaim. Characters have been adapted without authorization or approval, and I am making no profit from their use.
RATING: PG-13. The thing about pirates is, sometimes they swear like sailors. Ninja, too, although they won't admit it.
SUMMARY: Give Nokoru an excuse, and he'll give you a festival -- with the ninja elite from every corner of the globe. Which is, naturally, where Pirate King Fai D. Fluorite wants to send Kamui this week... Nothing can go wrong!
Previously...
: 1: Opening Ceremonies :: 2: Things Better Left Unsaid :: 3: Honesty is the Best Policy (Explicit) (Edited) :
[NOT ACCORDING TO PLAN]
Nagumo's purple-haired partner, Yudaiji Idomu, waited with his usual indecipherable glare at the cooking coliseum. "You're ten minutes behind schedule," his co-conspirator huffed. "What went wrong?"
"You could have warned me you planned to tamper with the eggs." Now his own perfectly constructed tower was disqualified for failing to get the egg safely down, and the prize for the egg drop would undoubtedly go to someone who hadn't understood physics well enough to account for a raw egg's fluid momentum in their construction. Or Eagle Vision might get it, that asshole. Who did he think he was fooling, claiming he was a ninja? But Nagumo hardly considered it his duty to tell Yuuko's people they had a pirate in their midst.
"Oh?" Yudaiji asked, inspecting their ingredients. "There's a problem with the eggs? I had no idea."
Nagumo bit his tongue on the rest of the tirade, all commentary on the importance of communication in a well-run conspiracy pushed aside when when he saw Yudaiji's face. He'd expected some coy remark about how Nagumo hadn't needed to know every detail of the plan to ruin Imonoyama's festival. Instead, his co-conspirator put on a carefully innocent expression -- trying too hard to pretend everything was proceeding as he had foreseen and that he simultaneously knew nothing about anything, which was almost indistinguishable from his normal priggish demeanor except for an edge that Nagumo could swear was panic. Moreover, Yudaiji had reached for the basket of eggs in their cooking supplies.
His act of ignorance should have been bullshit. Who but Yudaiji would take the trouble to interfere with Imonoyama in such a ridiculous way? Nagumo had worked with Yudaiji long enough to know his bullshit, though, and this wasn't quite right. Yudaiji might claim he knew nothing about the eggs, but he wouldn't pretend he'd misinterpreted what event Nagumo was talking about. He was too attached to looking smart. If Yudaiji thought he'd been talking about the eggs for the cooking contest, not the egg drop, maybe the tampering had been someone else after all.
Either way, Nagumo had no intention of calling Yudaiji's attention to his mistake. That could embarrass his ally, and an embarrassed Yudaiji was likely to turn on him like a sprung trap.
He coughed to cover the awkward silence and scanned their surroundings for a way to reassure his partner without telling him he'd been talking about entirely different eggs. Thankfully, the banner flying over their station with the white Civic pennant was marked with a boiling pot. "Well. Since we're making soup, we'll have plenty of options that don't involve eggs. Just in case these have been tampered with."
"My surveillance showed the proctors loading spinach onto the dais for today's secret ingredient. I'll be using a recipe for wedding soup that's been in my family for five hundred years, and the eggs are not negotiable unless you happen to have an irritated hagfish handy."
"I didn't think to pack one," Nagumo spat. Honestly. Did Yudaiji make it his life's goal to be a perfect asshole? He pulled an egg from the basket and spun it on the counter in lieu of continuing the argument. It slowed and wobbled, betraying the liquid center. "Well, I have every confidence that these eggs are untroubled."
"Or at least that we'll have time to demand new ones if trouble presents itself."
"If you're that worried, I can set up an egg-testing--"
"All you have to do is keep up your end of the plan. Don't let some distraction occupy your attention."
"My end of the plan is the last thing you have to--"
"Welcome, all!" the host cried from his podium. "I see all our competitors have arrived today. Is our lovely audience ready to see today's maestri and maestre chefs face off in the second heat of round one?!"
The crowds roared, "Yes!" as Nagumo saw Yudaiji grip an egg tight with his usual smirk.
"Then let's reveal our secret ingredient! Today, you'll be cooking with..." Tearing away the covering over the dais, the announcer yelled, "Spi--" then caught his tongue. Whatever the golden brown sauce and nuggets were on the stage, they definitely weren't spinach.
Their host jumped down to taste one of the nuggets. In Yudaiji's hand, the eggshell cracked, coating his fingers with runny, golden yolk.
"It's butterscotch! A~nd... begin!"
"Damn you, Nokoru-san," Yudaiji growled. "If it's a war you want, I'll give you a war."
Somehow, Nagumo didn't think Imonoyama was the type to indulge in retaliation quite this petty, not that he'd convince Yudaiji of that. But if it wasn't Imonoyama, and it wasn't them, then they were dealing with a third party who was both strong and sneaky enough to hide completely in front of the greatest ninja in the world.
That sounded like someone he wanted to challenge face to face.
~//~
As if today (and yesterday) hadn't been hard enough, Kamui had now learned the worst part about walking around a ninja festival without his proper boots and pirate hat: people kept talking to him. In the last hour, he'd gotten more pickup lines than Sorata threw his way in a month, and one of Sorata's hobbies was testing new lines on him before trying them on Arashi.
God, he hated mingling with crowds of ninja on the ground, and jumping clear of the occasional asshole dismounting from a roof (which the ninja seemed to use as the fast lane around the bustle). If only he could be back on his ship, living the life he'd always known. Since that wasn't happening, maybe he'd get a slushie before he had to go back to that hellhole "Icchan" called a laboratory. There wasn't much chance they'd have the peach-raspberry flavor that he got back in Kaizuka, but someone had to have lemon or lime.
"Excuse me," he asked the nearest benign-looking person, "Do you know if there's a slushie stand around here?"
The smile the man put on immediately made Kamui regret his choices. How could one little quirk of the lips transform "benign-looking" into "sketchy as fuck"?
"I can't say I know any slushie stands, but there's ice cream just around the corner. Why don't I walk you? My name's Hidetsugu, by the way. Toyotomi Hidetsugu. And you are?"
"Involved with someone," Kamui answered. "I have a sweetheart back home."
He'd realized the second time he'd gotten hit on today that he had no problem telling ninja he was taken, even if it was stretching the truth a little when he hadn't settled things with Kotori. Or Fuuma. Either way, he was pretty sure he'd eventually end up with one of them. So saying he was taken didn't actually reduce him to the level of sneaky, lying scum like the assassins and spies he was not technically lying to.
And giving his name'd be a ticket to the Imonoyama dungeons. He wasn't stupid.
Hidetsugu (that had to be a pseudonym... wasn't Toyotomi Hidetsugu long dead?) wrote something on a scrap of paper he'd pulled out of nowhere. "If you change your mind, this is where I'm staying tonight."
"...Right."
Kamui added the paper to the growing stack in his belt pouch and walked away before the man could say anything else. The ice cream place around the corner definitely wasn't going to get him the slushie he wanted, but ice cream was cold, and that was good enough. And hey, he'd found Doumeki again. Two booths down, his traveling companion was shooting target after target at a marksmanship game, amassing the world's largest pile of stuffed animals as the proprietor handed over his prizes. At least one of them was having a good time, even if Doumeki was just showing off by playing a bow and arrow game.
The other pirate met his eye, a question obvious in his stare.
Are we done here?
Shaking his head no, Kamui signaled Doumeki to ignore him, and the string of bullseyes started again. He dropped a coin on the ice cream counter. "Two scoops of pistachio with caramel sauce."
"Sure thing."
Now to find somewhere to eat it where nobody would bother him. Seats were strictly "bring your own camp chair by stuffing it into your personal nowhere space, or find a rock," but as long as there were no people, he didn't care if--
A red braid flew out of the crowd half a second before a familiar voice called, "Quick! Let's get to the fighting tournament before reg closes! I promised Takamura-san I'd--"
Hikaru screeched to a halt, looking straight at Kamui with excitement inflating her eyes to inhumanly shining balls of joy. The only time he'd ever seen a ninja that happy to find him before, he'd been waist-deep in quicksand, with no back-up, and the ninja (may his pieces rest in peace) had been armed with enough explosives to level a small continent. Before Kamui could blink, let alone think about what he was doing, he'd leapt up on the nearest roof to run for the highest ground he could find. He was halfway to the clocktower at the center of town before he noticed he was ditching Hikaru. Hikaru, who was kind of like a friend.
But maybe he wasn't the kind of friend she needed in a place like this. Surely even one of Hundhammeren's most trusted operatives couldn't declare in front of a crowd of the international elite that she was friends with a Pirate Lord, and not pay any consequences. Although it was Hikaru. If anyone could be too cute to shun, it'd be her. He could vouch for that.
At least she was a pro, so she'd understand if he apologized next time he saw her. He consoled himself with that thought as he jumped from roof to roof to coliseum ledge and finally to the spire of the clocktower where he could look down over Kragero in lonely silence at last. Perfect for eating two scoops of pistachio ice cream that'd managed not to melt, and for studying the pile of room numbers he'd been handed to see if he could get something useful out of them, like some idea which ninja countries were friendly enough to be quartered near each other. Just because Fai had him here on a bullshit training mission, didn't mean he had to avoid learning useful information.
It was kind of depressing that the most useful thing he saw was that Civic preferred to quarter its people in its own airship. With a sigh, he gathered enough energy in his hand to render his stack of invitations to dust, then did the same to the remains of his ice cream cup. The winds whistling toward the northwest took the specks off in a wild dance towards the setting sun that was just beginning to paint the sky in flashes of pink and gold. The last time he'd seen a sky like that, with a wind like this, he'd been sitting on a beach at the edges of Kaizuka with his mother, and it'd been sand that the wind had stolen falling through his fingers.
That was the day he'd told her he'd been picked for a midshipman on the Togakushi, the flagship of Lord Monou's navy. Instead of saying, "Congratulations," or "I'm proud of you," or "Keep your head out there, the seas don't take prisoners," she'd just smiled her distant smile and said, "You've taken the first step toward your destiny, Kamui. You'll have a long road, but I know you'll make the right choice when the time comes."
"What destiny?" he'd asked, just like the kid he'd been.
Then, and every time he'd asked since, she'd done nothing but smile again, like she was going to cry, saying, "Destiny is something that has to happen, so you'll see soon enough."
"But how can I make a choice if I don't know what I'm choosing?"
"Is there anyone you love, who you'd want to protect?"
"Fuuma and Kotori... and you. I'll always protect you." Even now, he didn't know why he'd said it, when his mother had never needed protecting from anything.
"Then I have faith that you can do what you'll be called to do."
Her quiet gravity as she sat silhouetted in the sunset, her hair blowing wild like a black storm, had stilled the thousand questions on his tongue. He'd hugged her goodbye, and that'd been all. Since then, whenever he went home, he'd never pressed after his mother had told him he'd see when the time came. Maybe next time he put into Kaizuka, he'd try again to ask. Maybe if he told her what he'd learned in the past few weeks, about Clow Reed and how the world almost ended thousands of years ago, she'd finally tell him more.
Maybe he wouldn't wait until he got home. Tonight, once he finished with his training with Icchan, he could write her a letter with Clow Reed's magic orb. If he'd gotten through to Fuuma--
His training with Icchan.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon, and he was supposed to be back before dark. God only knew what that asshole defined as "dark". No way was he going to risk doing the rest of his training stuffed in a frog suit like Ogata, with or without the vanilla pudding. Kamui launched off the clock tower towards the row of pavilions where he'd first appeared, landing on the rooftops running. Enough people had turned to watch him rush that he admitted with a silent curse, he should've turned invisible. The less attention he attracted, the less likely he was to die here, but if he acted like he was hiding now, people would wonder why. So he landed like he didn't give a shit, hitting the ground with enough force to leave a crater, and bolted for the alley.
The crowds parted like butter. This was what he liked best about being a pirate. No need to sneak. People got the fuck out of your way.
He sensed someone coming just before the figure faded into real-space in front of him, and froze before they entered his threat zone. Someone else had pulled up behind him, but he didn't sense them making a move, so he kept his eyes on the one in front. It had only been a matter of time before somebody realized who he was. Better to go down fighting.
"Let's make this quick," Kamui growled. "I'm running late."
"I can see that!" The man who'd stopped him had glasses and a friendly smile, holding his hands up as if to say he wasn't trying to attack, but anyone who'd met Lord Aoki knew a guy like that could still be dangerous. Kamui wasn't dropping his guard for anything. "I just need you to meet the committee before the final decision. We'll explain to your team--"
"For what?!"
"Oh, I guess you don't know." He held out his hand as if he expected Kamui to shake it. Which, Kamui decided, it was safest to do. If he hadn't been made, best not to escalate. "Akechi Shigetaka, on behalf of the Pageant Selection Committee. Nice to meet you. Your name is...? We can't seem to find you in the records for some reason."
"I... err..."
This guy didn't seem to be hitting on him, but Kamui still couldn't give his name.
Just then, the person standing behind him stepped around to Akechi's shoulder. She whispered something in the man's ear, something like, "Special mission for the Chairman," that widened Akechi's eyes, but the exact words drifted right out of Kamui's head.
That woman...
The shape of her face, of her eyes... The way her hair caught the breeze.
The knowing smile that curled her mouth when she looked at him.
It wasn't that she looked like his mother's twin, or could pass for her double, although there was a likeness to them beyond a doubt. It was more that all the little mannerisms of posture and expression he'd thought were unique to his mother were suddenly right in front of him, on another person. This woman must have been close to his mother, closer than his mother had ever been with anyone in Kaizuka or on any of the ships where she served. That certainty hit Kamui like a storm wave washing over decks. He couldn't even breathe.
The pair of them stepped out of his way. Akechi opened his arm toward the wall where Kamui was headed. "My apologies. Magami-kun says you're in quite a rush indeed. We won't keep you any longer, if you don't mind me just taking a picture..." Akechi pulled out a contraption with a glass lens like a telescope, and tugged on a cord that set off a flash like flare bomb. As it clicked and whirred, a piece of paper came out with his face painted on it. "The Chairman invented this specifically for situations like these. Handy, isn't it?"
"You need my portrait?"
"Well, yes..." The man looked as confused as Kamui felt.
Then the woman moved, and Kamui had to clench every muscle to keep from jumping a mile in the air. "Oh dear, oh dear, you'll be too late!" she gasped, nudging him towards the wall. Once they were past the woman's partner, she whispered, "You won't want to keep Icchan waiting, now, Kamui."
He looked her over, from her unbudged smirk to the turn-out of her toes. "Who are you?"
"My name is Magami Tokiko. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."
Another second and he might have chased the two figures walking away. He had too many questions to ask, and no idea where to start. Unfortunately, before he could make up his mind, a giant cane hooked him around the stomach and pulled him back through the passage in the wall. Instead of looking at a woman with an uncanny resemblance to his mother, he was two inches from Icchan's menacing grin inside a giant oyster shell costume.
"Are you ready for Round Two?"
"I will personally tear your whole lab to shreds if you don't get the fuck out of my face."
"I'll take that as a yes."
~//~
"Watanuki!" Mistress Yuuko peeked around the kitchen door, dangling a sake bottle between her fingers. "We need a few more bottles, ple~ase! Oh, and we're out of gyoza."
"Already?! Even the spare plates I put on the brazier?"
His employer threw her hands over her head like she was celebrating. "All gone!" she cheered. Over by the sink, Maru and Moro sang, "All gone! All gone!" as they tossed suds-covered tartare molds and crème brûlée ramekins back and forth, juggling the dinner dishes more than washing them.
"Hey! Those are not toys! Honestly..." Watanuki dropped the fried tofu he'd been steeping in broth onto a prep plate so he could save his tools from the twins' disastrous clutches. As he swirled them in the rinse water and set them out to dry next to the colander, he called over his shoulder at Mistress Yuuko. "I'll have you know, I only made you enough gyoza for a small army, half of which I have already served! If I fry up the rest of them now, I'll need to shop for a new side dish for Thursday, and I will not answer for the shops here. Nevermind that I only have five minutes left before I have to leave, of which you're well aware."
"Oh yes, we wouldn't want you to be late for your date with your sweetie," Yuuko snickered, failing to hide her grin behind her hand.
Maru bounced by his left ear. "With your sweetie!"
"With your sweetie!" Moro echoed by his right ear.
"Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Stop calling him that!" He took a freshly cleaned skillet from the drying rack and filled it with the last of his pre-prepped gyoza to warm on the stove. "His name is Doumeki -- preferably 'that damned Doumeki' or 'that smelly, no-good pirate of a Doumeki' -- and he is not my sweetie! Neither is he my boyfriend, beau, kochanek, flame, honey, valentine, suitor, gentleman caller, paramour, swain, gallant, intimate friend, nor any other kind of romantic anything! Stop calling him things! This is not -- I repeat, not -- a date! Now if you'll excuse me, I have some inarizushi to fill!"
"Well, I'll just leave you to making your pirate's favorite foods, then."
He slammed down the board that used to have Thursday's gyoza on them.
"That's it! Everybody out! Maru, Moro..." Watanuki flickered to the sink to push the two children out the door along with their mistress. "You can do the dishes after I'm gone. No one comes into the kitchen until I leave, and no one talks to me until tomorrow!"
Ignoring accusations of, "Watanuki, you meanie!" he returned to his cooking, which had been enough of a juggle when it was just folding an omelet while stuffing rice into fried tofu pockets, before Yuuko had demanded more gyoza. At least the gyoza only had to be flipped in the pan occasionally. An elite ninja such as himself was more than capable of cooking three simple dishes in five minutes! Soon enough, he'd placed the perfectly turned, appropriately triangular inarizushi onto their pad of garnish, in the corner between the meatballs he'd made earlier and the pickled daikon salad he'd thrown together, then he only had to lay out slices of omelet next to the mousse-filled macaroons and arrange fresh tomato and lettuce for color, and he had an entire minute left to plate the gyoza in an aesthetically pleasing fashion.
Complete and total victory.
Watanuki swept into the sitting room with a tray of bottles in one hand, a plate in the other, and Doumeki's boxed-up dinner stored safely on the warmer he kept in nowhere space specifically for transporting hot dishes. "Here is your gyoza, here is your sake, and there is my exit. I will see you tomorrow."
"Let Doumeki know he's invited to drink with us again tonight!" Mistress Yuuko called after him with a wave. "Everybody will be so disappointed if he's not there!"
"Get over it!" He slammed the door for proper emphasis. "What has the world come to?! Inviting pirates to drink at ninja functions..." It was a good thing no one tried to get in his way between Mistress Yuuko's quarters and the festival games. He was in half a mind to stuff the hands of anyone who gave him guff into their shoes and tell them to walk in headstands.
And wouldn't you know, when he showed up by the target practice booth, the proprietor had hung up a sign that said, "Test your skill against the infamous pirate, Deadeye Doumeki!" A sign! Advertising the chance to win a plush animal if you beat Doumeki in a marksmanship contest! How shameless could you get?! Watanuki marched right up to the pirate, who was shouldering his crossbow, and shoved the boxed dinner into his unreasonably trimly muscled chest (thankfully covered by a shirt, or the crowd of rubbernecking idiots might be counted by the score instead of by the dozen).
"You don't deserve this," Watanuki declared.
"Did you make croquettes?"
"I don't take your orders! These are... these are leftovers!" A lie, but what else was he supposed to do? Admit that he'd cooked a second meal? "Content yourself with the scraps from Mistress Yuuko's table, and be glad I'm feeding you at all!"
Of course Doumeki opened the box right there and started gobbling it down -- while they walked, like a cretin. "Mmm," he grunted between bites. "This's good. Still warm, too."
"Hmph. At least you appreciate--"
Watanuki's breath left him. Graceless eating had turned to sacrilege.
"What do you think you're doing?!" He plucked a tiny cup from Doumeki's hand before more damage could be done. "You can't pour that! It's for dipping! I didn't hand-grind mustard seeds so that you could pour a dipping sauce!"
"This works, too. Besides, didn't you say they were leftovers?"
"That's not the point! For the love of all that's reasonable in this world, you haven't even told me why you're here! Let alone why you're pouring a dipping sauce, although I don't know what I ever expected from you, or can expect for that matter."
After Doumeki popped another macaroon in his mouth, the miscreant finally slowed his spree of consumption (Oh, correction! He'd run out of food! It simply could not be possible while eating at that rate that Doumeki had properly appreciated the delicate interplay of flavors over which certain persons had slaved.) to focus all his attention on Watanuki.
"Is there a reason why you're staring at me?" Watanuki asked.
Then the asshole dropped the empty dinner box on Watanuki's head, and used his now free un-hook-encumbered hand to grab Watanuki's collar. And Watanuki had no choice but to allow Doumeki to kiss him, or if he scuffled he risked the embarrassment of letting fall an object balanced on his head while in front of legions of his colleagues. He'd never live that down. Not that he was likely to live down the flush in his cheeks or the race of his breath when Doumeki and his clove-scented closeness slid an overly bold tongue inside his mouth.
It was a talented tongue.
Deep down, Doumeki tasted savory, the flavor of meatballs and hand-ground mustard overpowering the initial sweetness on contact of mango mousse and macaroons.
And the cat calls from Eagle Fucking Vision weren't helping even a little.
But worst of all, it was over too soon, and Doumeki pulled back just as Watanuki had started to feel lightheaded. Naturally, he grunted his disapproval.
"You know what to expect from me," Doumeki answered.
"Which is why it's so confusing that you've been doing so little of that!"
"Well, I know it's what I want. What I have to know is what you want."
"What I want...!" Watanuki dropped abruptly into simmering silence as no retort formed on his tongue. He'd thought he'd known exactly what he wanted out of Doumeki, right up to the moment he'd been asked, but now all he was sure of was that he didn't know well enough to say. Rustling his dignity as best he could, he whipped away from the pirate and crossed his arms. "What I want will have to wait, because right now I need to get to the ghost story contest. Kohane-chan is competing tonight. I need to support her."
Doumeki shrugged. "Can I sit with you, or do I still have to hide?"
"I suppose, since Mistress Yuuko took it upon herself to invite you, she ought to have to deal with the consequences. I'll find you a footstool to sit on."
~//~
Doumeki knew sitting next to the Dimension Witch would get him a reputation among the ninja here -- and not the kind of reputation most pirates would relish -- but people could say what they liked about him. The view at the ghost story bonfire was much better from the platform reserved for world leaders, and the personal marshmallow-roasting fires weren't as blistering hot as below. Not to mention, he was pretty sure there was some kind of audio-clarity spell up here.
"The halcyon on the wind and the nighttime you must fear," sang the bespectacled kid playing the organ he'd summoned to the stage. "...For the ancient queen could not save what she held dear." The announcer had called him Fujimoto Kiyokazu, and the pink armband meant he was from Impala. The niceness Doumeki usually associated with Impala's ninja hadn't stopped him from pulling out a ballad about one of the least nice demons in all of legend. "If you meet the girl with lips like blood, and skin as white as snow, ask not who feeds her cherry tree for the grave will be your own..."
He told it well, though -- nice and clear, varying the speed and volume of his delivery like a pro. Of course, if Doumeki had to guess from the crowd of Impalan children at Fujimoto's feet, hanging rapt on every word and singing along to a verse about Carthage's Judges ordering Snow White's death, the ninja probably was a pro, and this was one of his top hits.
"To hold the ghost as he was bid, he cast cold iron bars... tempered in the ocean salt beneath the midnight stars. A silver scythe with razor edge he forged beneath the moon. Hamilcar knew his people's doom would come on all too soon. And for a rope of sunlight wove with which to bind her hands, stripped he the sunburned skin o' the very dead she'd left across the land..."
Watanuki clucked his tongue over another run through the chorus. "I never liked 'Snow White and the Cherry Tree'. The gore is a little gratuitous, don't you think?"
"Hmm," Doumeki answered.
"At least nod or shrug clearly when you grunt. I can't tell if you agree with me."
"I know someone like that, is all, so I can't be sure it's an exaggeration."
Pulling his mouth to one side in a frown, Watanuki murmured, "I guess you have a point."
Up on stage, the storyteller had gotten to the big confrontation, and to the children's delight, he was used a coy falsetto when he sang for Snow White. "Hamilcar, oh Hamilcar, know you what foolishness you do? You'd need no dark spell to kill me if I'd ever loved you true!" Switching to his normal voice, Fujimoto answered for General Hamilcar, "I hold my scythe to your cherry tree, the source of all your power. Snow White, I'll build your barrow here where once you made your bower." Two kids mimed the scene, but the crowd was fixed on the man at the organ, all holding their breath -- one of the benefits of telling a story everyone knew. They all knew when to listen.
"'Kill me thus, your own flesh dies, too. Damnation you'll have won. Woken by your kiss, shared I your body and your bed, and now I bear your son.' ...His hand fell still, his heart grew chill, for Carthage had no higher sin than for woman or man, by deed or plan, to murder their own kin. ...'Then rot inside these iron walls. I've built them true and strong. You nor your child shall walk this land though you live forever long.' So he said as he left her grove, but could not tell a soul that he'd let the monster live that day, or why he'd left her chained but whole."
"So melodramatic!" Watanuki grumbled.
"Shh," Doumeki, Yuuko, and Princess Tomoyo all told him together.
"--meet the girl with lips like blood, and skin as white as snow, ask not who feeds her cherry tree, for the grave will be your own! ...Fifteen years and fifteen days wore on Hamilcar without respite... waging war for glory all his days, never knowing sleep at night. Until at last, riding to his men, he found them slain up on the ground. There stood a lad late of tender years with scythe of silver bloodied round... The youth's face was like his own, he saw, and though his eyes were burnished gold, Snow White's coldness filled their depths. Hamilcar laughed, 'My son, you come to scold.' ...A hawk dove screaming to the youth's hand as he smiled a familiar smile. 'Think not I bear you any grudge, nor would I count myself your child. Your blood inside my veins was key to that cage where you'd've let us rot, but there is nothing else I share with you -- I who did what you could not. The cherry thrives, Snow White's barrow now, and I will guard it well. Waste not your last precious breath on regrets with me. You'll tell my mother in Hell.' ...The hawk upon the wind and the nighttime you must fear, for the noble general could not kill what he held dear. If you meet the man with eyes like gold, and heart as cold as snow, ask not who feeds his cherry tree... for the grave will be your own!"
The gathered audience broke into a standing ovation. The ninja at Doumeki's side was less enthusiastic, muttering a mile a minute through his perfunctory golf claps. "... still don't see how anyone can call that a proper ending. Does everyone just forget that Snow White's curse on Dido never gets resolved? The entire driving motivation for the Queen to put her to sleep! Never mentioned once in the conclusion!"
"Well, Carthage did get destroyed," Doumeki countered. "And the Barrows-guard might count as a curse. It's amazing, how somewhere that turned into as nice a place as Impala once gave birth to him. Like the world is trying to balance out how much of a jackass he turned out to be." For once, a topic where he and Lord Shirou were in perfect agreement.
Watanuki's back arched into a screech. "Do not make excuses for lazy storytelling!"
As his ninja lover stomped off to pour Yuuko another cup of sake, the Witch Queen leaned over to whisper -- loud enough for everyone to hear -- in Doumeki's direction, "Don't mind Watanuki. He gets a little testy when people act like the Barrows-guard is a real person."
"And why shouldn't I?! It's superstitious mania, talking about some... some demon avatar of Death who's made of incarnate evil! So many otherwise rational people talk as if this being has been wandering the world for thousands of years, and I simply cannot fathom how they reconcile his existence with--"
"Hey," Kurogane broke in from behind Princess Tomoyo.
Swiping his feathered hat, Watanuki yelled in Doumeki's face, "My name is not--!"
Doumeki pointed to the person who'd actually been talking, and suddenly his hat was back on his head while Watanuki turned sheet-pale.
"Oh. Kurogane-sempai. ...You were saying?"
"Just thought I'd mention -- more things in Heaven and Earth and all that. I ran into the asshole last month. Got close enough to see how he rolled his cigarettes, and how the people who know him look at him. That was enough to believe any story I'd heard. Damned if his eyes weren't gold, too. The one he had left anyway."
"... Oh. Well then." Watanuki's always emotive face quivered through the dawning realization that Kurogane wasn't joking, and nobody in their right mind would accuse him of lying. The shock that hit next was probably Watanuki remembering where Kurogane had been last month since he turned his wide eyes straight on Doumeki.
Doumeki shrugged. "I told you I know someone like that."
He expected his ninja to explode over some sudden injustice in Doumeki never mentioning that the Barrows-guard sailed with the Pirate King (like anybody would want to claim him as an ally). Instead, that lanky frame seemed to be shivering while he poured Yuuko's next cup of sake -- not that Watanuki spilled a drop. When his lover sat back down, Doumeki flicked Watanuki's nose with his finger. Sure enough, righteous ire displaced all his quaking. With a, "Hmph!" the ninja shoved a smore into Doumeki's mouth. His turned-up nose was the very picture of a man thinking, "That'll show you!" Then he settled close enough for Doumeki to drape an arm around his shoulder. Better on all counts.
"Not that you deserve it, but if you insist on sleeping on my couch again--"
"I haven't got a better offer."
"-- you will at least use the pillow and blanket I procured for you. I won't have you catching a cold and then claiming you need to share body heat to recover as an excuse to get into my bed later."
"I don't plan to need an excuse to get into your bed."
"You're insufferable."
"Yup."
"Just watch the show. It's Kohane-chan's turn to tell a real ghost story."
Watanuki's sous-chef had walked onto the stage, staring down the audience one at a time, apparently scaring them into silence. "What's she telling?" Doumeki asked. "I didn't hear the announcer say."
"That's because he couldn't have known!" Watanuki had his nose about a mile in the air now. "No one can, not even Kohane-chan. She always tells the story of a ghost who's-- shush, now, she's starting. You'll see."
The girl's slow glances around the audience had left all eyes trained on her, like a magnet pulling them in. The stage presence it took to do that when she hadn't moved a muscle or said a word was nothing to scoff at. She acted as much like a pro as the organist before her had. At last, she walked up to a Kragero University student with glasses and a dazed look in her eyes.
Reaching toward an empty seat next to the Kragero girl, Kohane spoke in a voice that seemed small and personal, but at the same time carried clearly to every corner of the gathering. "There's a spirit of a cat who came here with you tonight. A pretty gray tabby with white socks on his feet..."
"Jenkins?!" the girl gasped.
"He says that's his name."
Watanuki whispered over the surprised murmurs of the crowd, "The cat's actually there, you know. I can see him stretching his back now. Kohane-chan is the real thing."
"He says," the little psychic went on, "that once you became a ghost to save his life. Would you mind if I told your story?"
"My... no, of course not! Please go ahead!"
"Very well. It all began one dark night years ago, in the art gallery here on this very campus just a few weeks before student exhibition. A lone girl walking back to her dormitory saw a flash of white in the shape of a woman and heard the echo of cats crying in the night..."
5) Exactly What It Seems (16+)
(edited version: PG-13)
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AUTHOR'S NOTES
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Thank you, thank you, thank you for waiting so patiently for this chapter. My best as always to the lovely beltenebra for whom this universe is written, and tremendous thanks to my incomparable beta reader
sumeria for always finding time in her busy schedule to give her input.
While I don't intend to run around identifying every single cameo in this story (where's the fun in spotting characters if I just tell you who they are?!) I must grant that our identified antagonists so far, Yudaiji and Nagumo, are not the most widely known characters CLAMP ever created.
Yudaiji Idomu is an anime only CLAMP School Detectives villain. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any dialogue clips for him, but he spends several episodes ingratiating himself with the Detectives only to take the entire campus hostage, forcing Nokoru to rescue everyone with his big beautiful brain. Yudaiji's only desire is to deprive Nokoru of the things he loves so he can exact his revenge for the horrible wrong Nokoru did to him years ago. As stated above, the wrong was in fact that Yudaiji's mother smiled at Nokoru once before she died. This meant revenge involving bombs and computer hacks and high speed monorail chases. Drama out the wazoo. You maybe had to be there.
Nagumo Shinji, on the other hand, was a villain invented for the Tokyo Babylon OVA: an ambitious architect born with metaphysically incredible luck who has a habit of killing his competition to rise in the ranks. Considers himself to be "the city's chosen one". About as stable as nitroglycerin. He eventually takes control of a raging inugami and attempts to kill Subaru. Far be it for Subaru to defend himself from lethal attacks, of course (young Subaru that is), so Nagumo thinks he has the upper hand. Little does he realize that, if you attack Subaru when Seishirou is around, there isn't enough luck in the world to save your life. Unless you're Fuuma. And Fuuma he is not.
Apologies for how long this chapter took to write. Not only are these chapters longer and more complicated than in previous fics, and there've been the ever-present Real Life problems, but the story of 'Snow White and the Cherry Tree' presented me with an extreme difficulty: namely that the narrative I attempted to include as a small aside overwhelmed its space, turning into a multi-chapter story in its own right, and I had to break it off halfway through to replace the original 'Snow White and the Cherry Tree' narrative with a folk song version. Let me tell you, when it takes less time to rewrite your story as a rhyming ballad, you have wildly underestimated how much story you have to tell. The good news that comes from this delay: 1) the ballad as written above can be sung to the tune of The Horse-Tamer's Daughter by Leslie Fish (with the chorus sung after every second verse, not just three times as in the linked Julia Ecklar performance), and 2) once it's finished and polished up, the full version of 'Snow White and the Cherry Tree' will be published as a multi-chapter sidestory. Because the AO3 really needs a Hamilcar Barca\Sakurazuka Setsuka relationship tag. And I promise that if I ever get enough full-length songs finished for an album, I'll consider recording them.
Now, off to work on Chapter 5! My current plan is to publish through Chapter 7, then take a break to finish my Naruto AU "The Butterfly Effect" as promised (which may end up being my NaNo project for the year). I'll be working on Chapters 8 through 12 for the holiday season.
Also: If anyone reading this will be at Otakon, please stop by the Impetuosity Productions table in the Artist Alley and say hello!
This entry was originally posted at http://psiten.dreamwidth.org/117923.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
I: Rum & Popcorn, II: Talk Like a Pirate Day, III: Slings and Arrows, IV: You Got It, V: Dark and Stormy, and VI: Dim Smitten Star.
This series is a broad "Pirates vs. Ninjas" alternate universe comprised of short, multi-chapter stories that can each be read on their own. They are, however, also coherent if you decide start at the beginning and some may prefer them that way.
TITLE: Let the Games Begin
CHAPTER: 4 of 12 - "Not According to Plan"
SERIES: X, Tokyo Babylon, xxxHoLic, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Magic Knight Rayearth, Card Captor Sakura, CLAMP School Detectives, Chobits, Suki Dakara Suki, Legend of Chun Hyang, Gate 7, Code Geass, WISH, RG Veda, Miyuki-chan in Wonderland, Shirahime-Syo, Angelic Layer, CLAMP in Wonderland, Nijuu Mensou ni Onegai!! (Man of Many Faces), Campus Defenders Duklyon (many drive-by cameos, other series may appear later)
PAIRINGS: Featured - Doumeki Shizuka x Watanuki Kimihiro, Takamura Suoh x Imonoyama Nokoru. Background or unrealized - Lantis x Shidou Hikaru x Eagle Vision, Kurogane x Fai D. Fluorite, Li Syaoran x Sakura, Li Meiling > Li Syaoran, Shirou Kamui pining for Fuuma and/or Kotori while angsting over his friendship with Sumeragi Subaru, Shirou Kamui & Shidou Hikaru (friendship), Daidouji Tomoyo > Sakura... Am I missing anything? Probably not anything significant. Chapters may vary.
DISCLAIMER: Everything in the CLAMP Megaverse was originally created by CLAMP. They are entirely to blame for creating a system of crossovers that do not easily disclaim. Characters have been adapted without authorization or approval, and I am making no profit from their use.
RATING: PG-13. The thing about pirates is, sometimes they swear like sailors. Ninja, too, although they won't admit it.
SUMMARY: Give Nokoru an excuse, and he'll give you a festival -- with the ninja elite from every corner of the globe. Which is, naturally, where Pirate King Fai D. Fluorite wants to send Kamui this week... Nothing can go wrong!
Previously...
: 1: Opening Ceremonies :: 2: Things Better Left Unsaid :: 3: Honesty is the Best Policy (Explicit) (Edited) :
[NOT ACCORDING TO PLAN]
Nagumo's purple-haired partner, Yudaiji Idomu, waited with his usual indecipherable glare at the cooking coliseum. "You're ten minutes behind schedule," his co-conspirator huffed. "What went wrong?"
"You could have warned me you planned to tamper with the eggs." Now his own perfectly constructed tower was disqualified for failing to get the egg safely down, and the prize for the egg drop would undoubtedly go to someone who hadn't understood physics well enough to account for a raw egg's fluid momentum in their construction. Or Eagle Vision might get it, that asshole. Who did he think he was fooling, claiming he was a ninja? But Nagumo hardly considered it his duty to tell Yuuko's people they had a pirate in their midst.
"Oh?" Yudaiji asked, inspecting their ingredients. "There's a problem with the eggs? I had no idea."
Nagumo bit his tongue on the rest of the tirade, all commentary on the importance of communication in a well-run conspiracy pushed aside when when he saw Yudaiji's face. He'd expected some coy remark about how Nagumo hadn't needed to know every detail of the plan to ruin Imonoyama's festival. Instead, his co-conspirator put on a carefully innocent expression -- trying too hard to pretend everything was proceeding as he had foreseen and that he simultaneously knew nothing about anything, which was almost indistinguishable from his normal priggish demeanor except for an edge that Nagumo could swear was panic. Moreover, Yudaiji had reached for the basket of eggs in their cooking supplies.
His act of ignorance should have been bullshit. Who but Yudaiji would take the trouble to interfere with Imonoyama in such a ridiculous way? Nagumo had worked with Yudaiji long enough to know his bullshit, though, and this wasn't quite right. Yudaiji might claim he knew nothing about the eggs, but he wouldn't pretend he'd misinterpreted what event Nagumo was talking about. He was too attached to looking smart. If Yudaiji thought he'd been talking about the eggs for the cooking contest, not the egg drop, maybe the tampering had been someone else after all.
Either way, Nagumo had no intention of calling Yudaiji's attention to his mistake. That could embarrass his ally, and an embarrassed Yudaiji was likely to turn on him like a sprung trap.
He coughed to cover the awkward silence and scanned their surroundings for a way to reassure his partner without telling him he'd been talking about entirely different eggs. Thankfully, the banner flying over their station with the white Civic pennant was marked with a boiling pot. "Well. Since we're making soup, we'll have plenty of options that don't involve eggs. Just in case these have been tampered with."
"My surveillance showed the proctors loading spinach onto the dais for today's secret ingredient. I'll be using a recipe for wedding soup that's been in my family for five hundred years, and the eggs are not negotiable unless you happen to have an irritated hagfish handy."
"I didn't think to pack one," Nagumo spat. Honestly. Did Yudaiji make it his life's goal to be a perfect asshole? He pulled an egg from the basket and spun it on the counter in lieu of continuing the argument. It slowed and wobbled, betraying the liquid center. "Well, I have every confidence that these eggs are untroubled."
"Or at least that we'll have time to demand new ones if trouble presents itself."
"If you're that worried, I can set up an egg-testing--"
"All you have to do is keep up your end of the plan. Don't let some distraction occupy your attention."
"My end of the plan is the last thing you have to--"
"Welcome, all!" the host cried from his podium. "I see all our competitors have arrived today. Is our lovely audience ready to see today's maestri and maestre chefs face off in the second heat of round one?!"
The crowds roared, "Yes!" as Nagumo saw Yudaiji grip an egg tight with his usual smirk.
"Then let's reveal our secret ingredient! Today, you'll be cooking with..." Tearing away the covering over the dais, the announcer yelled, "Spi--" then caught his tongue. Whatever the golden brown sauce and nuggets were on the stage, they definitely weren't spinach.
Their host jumped down to taste one of the nuggets. In Yudaiji's hand, the eggshell cracked, coating his fingers with runny, golden yolk.
"It's butterscotch! A~nd... begin!"
"Damn you, Nokoru-san," Yudaiji growled. "If it's a war you want, I'll give you a war."
Somehow, Nagumo didn't think Imonoyama was the type to indulge in retaliation quite this petty, not that he'd convince Yudaiji of that. But if it wasn't Imonoyama, and it wasn't them, then they were dealing with a third party who was both strong and sneaky enough to hide completely in front of the greatest ninja in the world.
That sounded like someone he wanted to challenge face to face.
~//~
As if today (and yesterday) hadn't been hard enough, Kamui had now learned the worst part about walking around a ninja festival without his proper boots and pirate hat: people kept talking to him. In the last hour, he'd gotten more pickup lines than Sorata threw his way in a month, and one of Sorata's hobbies was testing new lines on him before trying them on Arashi.
God, he hated mingling with crowds of ninja on the ground, and jumping clear of the occasional asshole dismounting from a roof (which the ninja seemed to use as the fast lane around the bustle). If only he could be back on his ship, living the life he'd always known. Since that wasn't happening, maybe he'd get a slushie before he had to go back to that hellhole "Icchan" called a laboratory. There wasn't much chance they'd have the peach-raspberry flavor that he got back in Kaizuka, but someone had to have lemon or lime.
"Excuse me," he asked the nearest benign-looking person, "Do you know if there's a slushie stand around here?"
The smile the man put on immediately made Kamui regret his choices. How could one little quirk of the lips transform "benign-looking" into "sketchy as fuck"?
"I can't say I know any slushie stands, but there's ice cream just around the corner. Why don't I walk you? My name's Hidetsugu, by the way. Toyotomi Hidetsugu. And you are?"
"Involved with someone," Kamui answered. "I have a sweetheart back home."
He'd realized the second time he'd gotten hit on today that he had no problem telling ninja he was taken, even if it was stretching the truth a little when he hadn't settled things with Kotori. Or Fuuma. Either way, he was pretty sure he'd eventually end up with one of them. So saying he was taken didn't actually reduce him to the level of sneaky, lying scum like the assassins and spies he was not technically lying to.
And giving his name'd be a ticket to the Imonoyama dungeons. He wasn't stupid.
Hidetsugu (that had to be a pseudonym... wasn't Toyotomi Hidetsugu long dead?) wrote something on a scrap of paper he'd pulled out of nowhere. "If you change your mind, this is where I'm staying tonight."
"...Right."
Kamui added the paper to the growing stack in his belt pouch and walked away before the man could say anything else. The ice cream place around the corner definitely wasn't going to get him the slushie he wanted, but ice cream was cold, and that was good enough. And hey, he'd found Doumeki again. Two booths down, his traveling companion was shooting target after target at a marksmanship game, amassing the world's largest pile of stuffed animals as the proprietor handed over his prizes. At least one of them was having a good time, even if Doumeki was just showing off by playing a bow and arrow game.
The other pirate met his eye, a question obvious in his stare.
Are we done here?
Shaking his head no, Kamui signaled Doumeki to ignore him, and the string of bullseyes started again. He dropped a coin on the ice cream counter. "Two scoops of pistachio with caramel sauce."
"Sure thing."
Now to find somewhere to eat it where nobody would bother him. Seats were strictly "bring your own camp chair by stuffing it into your personal nowhere space, or find a rock," but as long as there were no people, he didn't care if--
A red braid flew out of the crowd half a second before a familiar voice called, "Quick! Let's get to the fighting tournament before reg closes! I promised Takamura-san I'd--"
Hikaru screeched to a halt, looking straight at Kamui with excitement inflating her eyes to inhumanly shining balls of joy. The only time he'd ever seen a ninja that happy to find him before, he'd been waist-deep in quicksand, with no back-up, and the ninja (may his pieces rest in peace) had been armed with enough explosives to level a small continent. Before Kamui could blink, let alone think about what he was doing, he'd leapt up on the nearest roof to run for the highest ground he could find. He was halfway to the clocktower at the center of town before he noticed he was ditching Hikaru. Hikaru, who was kind of like a friend.
But maybe he wasn't the kind of friend she needed in a place like this. Surely even one of Hundhammeren's most trusted operatives couldn't declare in front of a crowd of the international elite that she was friends with a Pirate Lord, and not pay any consequences. Although it was Hikaru. If anyone could be too cute to shun, it'd be her. He could vouch for that.
At least she was a pro, so she'd understand if he apologized next time he saw her. He consoled himself with that thought as he jumped from roof to roof to coliseum ledge and finally to the spire of the clocktower where he could look down over Kragero in lonely silence at last. Perfect for eating two scoops of pistachio ice cream that'd managed not to melt, and for studying the pile of room numbers he'd been handed to see if he could get something useful out of them, like some idea which ninja countries were friendly enough to be quartered near each other. Just because Fai had him here on a bullshit training mission, didn't mean he had to avoid learning useful information.
It was kind of depressing that the most useful thing he saw was that Civic preferred to quarter its people in its own airship. With a sigh, he gathered enough energy in his hand to render his stack of invitations to dust, then did the same to the remains of his ice cream cup. The winds whistling toward the northwest took the specks off in a wild dance towards the setting sun that was just beginning to paint the sky in flashes of pink and gold. The last time he'd seen a sky like that, with a wind like this, he'd been sitting on a beach at the edges of Kaizuka with his mother, and it'd been sand that the wind had stolen falling through his fingers.
That was the day he'd told her he'd been picked for a midshipman on the Togakushi, the flagship of Lord Monou's navy. Instead of saying, "Congratulations," or "I'm proud of you," or "Keep your head out there, the seas don't take prisoners," she'd just smiled her distant smile and said, "You've taken the first step toward your destiny, Kamui. You'll have a long road, but I know you'll make the right choice when the time comes."
"What destiny?" he'd asked, just like the kid he'd been.
Then, and every time he'd asked since, she'd done nothing but smile again, like she was going to cry, saying, "Destiny is something that has to happen, so you'll see soon enough."
"But how can I make a choice if I don't know what I'm choosing?"
"Is there anyone you love, who you'd want to protect?"
"Fuuma and Kotori... and you. I'll always protect you." Even now, he didn't know why he'd said it, when his mother had never needed protecting from anything.
"Then I have faith that you can do what you'll be called to do."
Her quiet gravity as she sat silhouetted in the sunset, her hair blowing wild like a black storm, had stilled the thousand questions on his tongue. He'd hugged her goodbye, and that'd been all. Since then, whenever he went home, he'd never pressed after his mother had told him he'd see when the time came. Maybe next time he put into Kaizuka, he'd try again to ask. Maybe if he told her what he'd learned in the past few weeks, about Clow Reed and how the world almost ended thousands of years ago, she'd finally tell him more.
Maybe he wouldn't wait until he got home. Tonight, once he finished with his training with Icchan, he could write her a letter with Clow Reed's magic orb. If he'd gotten through to Fuuma--
His training with Icchan.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon, and he was supposed to be back before dark. God only knew what that asshole defined as "dark". No way was he going to risk doing the rest of his training stuffed in a frog suit like Ogata, with or without the vanilla pudding. Kamui launched off the clock tower towards the row of pavilions where he'd first appeared, landing on the rooftops running. Enough people had turned to watch him rush that he admitted with a silent curse, he should've turned invisible. The less attention he attracted, the less likely he was to die here, but if he acted like he was hiding now, people would wonder why. So he landed like he didn't give a shit, hitting the ground with enough force to leave a crater, and bolted for the alley.
The crowds parted like butter. This was what he liked best about being a pirate. No need to sneak. People got the fuck out of your way.
He sensed someone coming just before the figure faded into real-space in front of him, and froze before they entered his threat zone. Someone else had pulled up behind him, but he didn't sense them making a move, so he kept his eyes on the one in front. It had only been a matter of time before somebody realized who he was. Better to go down fighting.
"Let's make this quick," Kamui growled. "I'm running late."
"I can see that!" The man who'd stopped him had glasses and a friendly smile, holding his hands up as if to say he wasn't trying to attack, but anyone who'd met Lord Aoki knew a guy like that could still be dangerous. Kamui wasn't dropping his guard for anything. "I just need you to meet the committee before the final decision. We'll explain to your team--"
"For what?!"
"Oh, I guess you don't know." He held out his hand as if he expected Kamui to shake it. Which, Kamui decided, it was safest to do. If he hadn't been made, best not to escalate. "Akechi Shigetaka, on behalf of the Pageant Selection Committee. Nice to meet you. Your name is...? We can't seem to find you in the records for some reason."
"I... err..."
This guy didn't seem to be hitting on him, but Kamui still couldn't give his name.
Just then, the person standing behind him stepped around to Akechi's shoulder. She whispered something in the man's ear, something like, "Special mission for the Chairman," that widened Akechi's eyes, but the exact words drifted right out of Kamui's head.
That woman...
The shape of her face, of her eyes... The way her hair caught the breeze.
The knowing smile that curled her mouth when she looked at him.
It wasn't that she looked like his mother's twin, or could pass for her double, although there was a likeness to them beyond a doubt. It was more that all the little mannerisms of posture and expression he'd thought were unique to his mother were suddenly right in front of him, on another person. This woman must have been close to his mother, closer than his mother had ever been with anyone in Kaizuka or on any of the ships where she served. That certainty hit Kamui like a storm wave washing over decks. He couldn't even breathe.
The pair of them stepped out of his way. Akechi opened his arm toward the wall where Kamui was headed. "My apologies. Magami-kun says you're in quite a rush indeed. We won't keep you any longer, if you don't mind me just taking a picture..." Akechi pulled out a contraption with a glass lens like a telescope, and tugged on a cord that set off a flash like flare bomb. As it clicked and whirred, a piece of paper came out with his face painted on it. "The Chairman invented this specifically for situations like these. Handy, isn't it?"
"You need my portrait?"
"Well, yes..." The man looked as confused as Kamui felt.
Then the woman moved, and Kamui had to clench every muscle to keep from jumping a mile in the air. "Oh dear, oh dear, you'll be too late!" she gasped, nudging him towards the wall. Once they were past the woman's partner, she whispered, "You won't want to keep Icchan waiting, now, Kamui."
He looked her over, from her unbudged smirk to the turn-out of her toes. "Who are you?"
"My name is Magami Tokiko. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."
Another second and he might have chased the two figures walking away. He had too many questions to ask, and no idea where to start. Unfortunately, before he could make up his mind, a giant cane hooked him around the stomach and pulled him back through the passage in the wall. Instead of looking at a woman with an uncanny resemblance to his mother, he was two inches from Icchan's menacing grin inside a giant oyster shell costume.
"Are you ready for Round Two?"
"I will personally tear your whole lab to shreds if you don't get the fuck out of my face."
"I'll take that as a yes."
~//~
"Watanuki!" Mistress Yuuko peeked around the kitchen door, dangling a sake bottle between her fingers. "We need a few more bottles, ple~ase! Oh, and we're out of gyoza."
"Already?! Even the spare plates I put on the brazier?"
His employer threw her hands over her head like she was celebrating. "All gone!" she cheered. Over by the sink, Maru and Moro sang, "All gone! All gone!" as they tossed suds-covered tartare molds and crème brûlée ramekins back and forth, juggling the dinner dishes more than washing them.
"Hey! Those are not toys! Honestly..." Watanuki dropped the fried tofu he'd been steeping in broth onto a prep plate so he could save his tools from the twins' disastrous clutches. As he swirled them in the rinse water and set them out to dry next to the colander, he called over his shoulder at Mistress Yuuko. "I'll have you know, I only made you enough gyoza for a small army, half of which I have already served! If I fry up the rest of them now, I'll need to shop for a new side dish for Thursday, and I will not answer for the shops here. Nevermind that I only have five minutes left before I have to leave, of which you're well aware."
"Oh yes, we wouldn't want you to be late for your date with your sweetie," Yuuko snickered, failing to hide her grin behind her hand.
Maru bounced by his left ear. "With your sweetie!"
"With your sweetie!" Moro echoed by his right ear.
"Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Stop calling him that!" He took a freshly cleaned skillet from the drying rack and filled it with the last of his pre-prepped gyoza to warm on the stove. "His name is Doumeki -- preferably 'that damned Doumeki' or 'that smelly, no-good pirate of a Doumeki' -- and he is not my sweetie! Neither is he my boyfriend, beau, kochanek, flame, honey, valentine, suitor, gentleman caller, paramour, swain, gallant, intimate friend, nor any other kind of romantic anything! Stop calling him things! This is not -- I repeat, not -- a date! Now if you'll excuse me, I have some inarizushi to fill!"
"Well, I'll just leave you to making your pirate's favorite foods, then."
He slammed down the board that used to have Thursday's gyoza on them.
"That's it! Everybody out! Maru, Moro..." Watanuki flickered to the sink to push the two children out the door along with their mistress. "You can do the dishes after I'm gone. No one comes into the kitchen until I leave, and no one talks to me until tomorrow!"
Ignoring accusations of, "Watanuki, you meanie!" he returned to his cooking, which had been enough of a juggle when it was just folding an omelet while stuffing rice into fried tofu pockets, before Yuuko had demanded more gyoza. At least the gyoza only had to be flipped in the pan occasionally. An elite ninja such as himself was more than capable of cooking three simple dishes in five minutes! Soon enough, he'd placed the perfectly turned, appropriately triangular inarizushi onto their pad of garnish, in the corner between the meatballs he'd made earlier and the pickled daikon salad he'd thrown together, then he only had to lay out slices of omelet next to the mousse-filled macaroons and arrange fresh tomato and lettuce for color, and he had an entire minute left to plate the gyoza in an aesthetically pleasing fashion.
Complete and total victory.
Watanuki swept into the sitting room with a tray of bottles in one hand, a plate in the other, and Doumeki's boxed-up dinner stored safely on the warmer he kept in nowhere space specifically for transporting hot dishes. "Here is your gyoza, here is your sake, and there is my exit. I will see you tomorrow."
"Let Doumeki know he's invited to drink with us again tonight!" Mistress Yuuko called after him with a wave. "Everybody will be so disappointed if he's not there!"
"Get over it!" He slammed the door for proper emphasis. "What has the world come to?! Inviting pirates to drink at ninja functions..." It was a good thing no one tried to get in his way between Mistress Yuuko's quarters and the festival games. He was in half a mind to stuff the hands of anyone who gave him guff into their shoes and tell them to walk in headstands.
And wouldn't you know, when he showed up by the target practice booth, the proprietor had hung up a sign that said, "Test your skill against the infamous pirate, Deadeye Doumeki!" A sign! Advertising the chance to win a plush animal if you beat Doumeki in a marksmanship contest! How shameless could you get?! Watanuki marched right up to the pirate, who was shouldering his crossbow, and shoved the boxed dinner into his unreasonably trimly muscled chest (thankfully covered by a shirt, or the crowd of rubbernecking idiots might be counted by the score instead of by the dozen).
"You don't deserve this," Watanuki declared.
"Did you make croquettes?"
"I don't take your orders! These are... these are leftovers!" A lie, but what else was he supposed to do? Admit that he'd cooked a second meal? "Content yourself with the scraps from Mistress Yuuko's table, and be glad I'm feeding you at all!"
Of course Doumeki opened the box right there and started gobbling it down -- while they walked, like a cretin. "Mmm," he grunted between bites. "This's good. Still warm, too."
"Hmph. At least you appreciate--"
Watanuki's breath left him. Graceless eating had turned to sacrilege.
"What do you think you're doing?!" He plucked a tiny cup from Doumeki's hand before more damage could be done. "You can't pour that! It's for dipping! I didn't hand-grind mustard seeds so that you could pour a dipping sauce!"
"This works, too. Besides, didn't you say they were leftovers?"
"That's not the point! For the love of all that's reasonable in this world, you haven't even told me why you're here! Let alone why you're pouring a dipping sauce, although I don't know what I ever expected from you, or can expect for that matter."
After Doumeki popped another macaroon in his mouth, the miscreant finally slowed his spree of consumption (Oh, correction! He'd run out of food! It simply could not be possible while eating at that rate that Doumeki had properly appreciated the delicate interplay of flavors over which certain persons had slaved.) to focus all his attention on Watanuki.
"Is there a reason why you're staring at me?" Watanuki asked.
Then the asshole dropped the empty dinner box on Watanuki's head, and used his now free un-hook-encumbered hand to grab Watanuki's collar. And Watanuki had no choice but to allow Doumeki to kiss him, or if he scuffled he risked the embarrassment of letting fall an object balanced on his head while in front of legions of his colleagues. He'd never live that down. Not that he was likely to live down the flush in his cheeks or the race of his breath when Doumeki and his clove-scented closeness slid an overly bold tongue inside his mouth.
It was a talented tongue.
Deep down, Doumeki tasted savory, the flavor of meatballs and hand-ground mustard overpowering the initial sweetness on contact of mango mousse and macaroons.
And the cat calls from Eagle Fucking Vision weren't helping even a little.
But worst of all, it was over too soon, and Doumeki pulled back just as Watanuki had started to feel lightheaded. Naturally, he grunted his disapproval.
"You know what to expect from me," Doumeki answered.
"Which is why it's so confusing that you've been doing so little of that!"
"Well, I know it's what I want. What I have to know is what you want."
"What I want...!" Watanuki dropped abruptly into simmering silence as no retort formed on his tongue. He'd thought he'd known exactly what he wanted out of Doumeki, right up to the moment he'd been asked, but now all he was sure of was that he didn't know well enough to say. Rustling his dignity as best he could, he whipped away from the pirate and crossed his arms. "What I want will have to wait, because right now I need to get to the ghost story contest. Kohane-chan is competing tonight. I need to support her."
Doumeki shrugged. "Can I sit with you, or do I still have to hide?"
"I suppose, since Mistress Yuuko took it upon herself to invite you, she ought to have to deal with the consequences. I'll find you a footstool to sit on."
~//~
Doumeki knew sitting next to the Dimension Witch would get him a reputation among the ninja here -- and not the kind of reputation most pirates would relish -- but people could say what they liked about him. The view at the ghost story bonfire was much better from the platform reserved for world leaders, and the personal marshmallow-roasting fires weren't as blistering hot as below. Not to mention, he was pretty sure there was some kind of audio-clarity spell up here.
"The halcyon on the wind and the nighttime you must fear," sang the bespectacled kid playing the organ he'd summoned to the stage. "...For the ancient queen could not save what she held dear." The announcer had called him Fujimoto Kiyokazu, and the pink armband meant he was from Impala. The niceness Doumeki usually associated with Impala's ninja hadn't stopped him from pulling out a ballad about one of the least nice demons in all of legend. "If you meet the girl with lips like blood, and skin as white as snow, ask not who feeds her cherry tree for the grave will be your own..."
He told it well, though -- nice and clear, varying the speed and volume of his delivery like a pro. Of course, if Doumeki had to guess from the crowd of Impalan children at Fujimoto's feet, hanging rapt on every word and singing along to a verse about Carthage's Judges ordering Snow White's death, the ninja probably was a pro, and this was one of his top hits.
"To hold the ghost as he was bid, he cast cold iron bars... tempered in the ocean salt beneath the midnight stars. A silver scythe with razor edge he forged beneath the moon. Hamilcar knew his people's doom would come on all too soon. And for a rope of sunlight wove with which to bind her hands, stripped he the sunburned skin o' the very dead she'd left across the land..."
Watanuki clucked his tongue over another run through the chorus. "I never liked 'Snow White and the Cherry Tree'. The gore is a little gratuitous, don't you think?"
"Hmm," Doumeki answered.
"At least nod or shrug clearly when you grunt. I can't tell if you agree with me."
"I know someone like that, is all, so I can't be sure it's an exaggeration."
Pulling his mouth to one side in a frown, Watanuki murmured, "I guess you have a point."
Up on stage, the storyteller had gotten to the big confrontation, and to the children's delight, he was used a coy falsetto when he sang for Snow White. "Hamilcar, oh Hamilcar, know you what foolishness you do? You'd need no dark spell to kill me if I'd ever loved you true!" Switching to his normal voice, Fujimoto answered for General Hamilcar, "I hold my scythe to your cherry tree, the source of all your power. Snow White, I'll build your barrow here where once you made your bower." Two kids mimed the scene, but the crowd was fixed on the man at the organ, all holding their breath -- one of the benefits of telling a story everyone knew. They all knew when to listen.
"'Kill me thus, your own flesh dies, too. Damnation you'll have won. Woken by your kiss, shared I your body and your bed, and now I bear your son.' ...His hand fell still, his heart grew chill, for Carthage had no higher sin than for woman or man, by deed or plan, to murder their own kin. ...'Then rot inside these iron walls. I've built them true and strong. You nor your child shall walk this land though you live forever long.' So he said as he left her grove, but could not tell a soul that he'd let the monster live that day, or why he'd left her chained but whole."
"So melodramatic!" Watanuki grumbled.
"Shh," Doumeki, Yuuko, and Princess Tomoyo all told him together.
"--meet the girl with lips like blood, and skin as white as snow, ask not who feeds her cherry tree, for the grave will be your own! ...Fifteen years and fifteen days wore on Hamilcar without respite... waging war for glory all his days, never knowing sleep at night. Until at last, riding to his men, he found them slain up on the ground. There stood a lad late of tender years with scythe of silver bloodied round... The youth's face was like his own, he saw, and though his eyes were burnished gold, Snow White's coldness filled their depths. Hamilcar laughed, 'My son, you come to scold.' ...A hawk dove screaming to the youth's hand as he smiled a familiar smile. 'Think not I bear you any grudge, nor would I count myself your child. Your blood inside my veins was key to that cage where you'd've let us rot, but there is nothing else I share with you -- I who did what you could not. The cherry thrives, Snow White's barrow now, and I will guard it well. Waste not your last precious breath on regrets with me. You'll tell my mother in Hell.' ...The hawk upon the wind and the nighttime you must fear, for the noble general could not kill what he held dear. If you meet the man with eyes like gold, and heart as cold as snow, ask not who feeds his cherry tree... for the grave will be your own!"
The gathered audience broke into a standing ovation. The ninja at Doumeki's side was less enthusiastic, muttering a mile a minute through his perfunctory golf claps. "... still don't see how anyone can call that a proper ending. Does everyone just forget that Snow White's curse on Dido never gets resolved? The entire driving motivation for the Queen to put her to sleep! Never mentioned once in the conclusion!"
"Well, Carthage did get destroyed," Doumeki countered. "And the Barrows-guard might count as a curse. It's amazing, how somewhere that turned into as nice a place as Impala once gave birth to him. Like the world is trying to balance out how much of a jackass he turned out to be." For once, a topic where he and Lord Shirou were in perfect agreement.
Watanuki's back arched into a screech. "Do not make excuses for lazy storytelling!"
As his ninja lover stomped off to pour Yuuko another cup of sake, the Witch Queen leaned over to whisper -- loud enough for everyone to hear -- in Doumeki's direction, "Don't mind Watanuki. He gets a little testy when people act like the Barrows-guard is a real person."
"And why shouldn't I?! It's superstitious mania, talking about some... some demon avatar of Death who's made of incarnate evil! So many otherwise rational people talk as if this being has been wandering the world for thousands of years, and I simply cannot fathom how they reconcile his existence with--"
"Hey," Kurogane broke in from behind Princess Tomoyo.
Swiping his feathered hat, Watanuki yelled in Doumeki's face, "My name is not--!"
Doumeki pointed to the person who'd actually been talking, and suddenly his hat was back on his head while Watanuki turned sheet-pale.
"Oh. Kurogane-sempai. ...You were saying?"
"Just thought I'd mention -- more things in Heaven and Earth and all that. I ran into the asshole last month. Got close enough to see how he rolled his cigarettes, and how the people who know him look at him. That was enough to believe any story I'd heard. Damned if his eyes weren't gold, too. The one he had left anyway."
"... Oh. Well then." Watanuki's always emotive face quivered through the dawning realization that Kurogane wasn't joking, and nobody in their right mind would accuse him of lying. The shock that hit next was probably Watanuki remembering where Kurogane had been last month since he turned his wide eyes straight on Doumeki.
Doumeki shrugged. "I told you I know someone like that."
He expected his ninja to explode over some sudden injustice in Doumeki never mentioning that the Barrows-guard sailed with the Pirate King (like anybody would want to claim him as an ally). Instead, that lanky frame seemed to be shivering while he poured Yuuko's next cup of sake -- not that Watanuki spilled a drop. When his lover sat back down, Doumeki flicked Watanuki's nose with his finger. Sure enough, righteous ire displaced all his quaking. With a, "Hmph!" the ninja shoved a smore into Doumeki's mouth. His turned-up nose was the very picture of a man thinking, "That'll show you!" Then he settled close enough for Doumeki to drape an arm around his shoulder. Better on all counts.
"Not that you deserve it, but if you insist on sleeping on my couch again--"
"I haven't got a better offer."
"-- you will at least use the pillow and blanket I procured for you. I won't have you catching a cold and then claiming you need to share body heat to recover as an excuse to get into my bed later."
"I don't plan to need an excuse to get into your bed."
"You're insufferable."
"Yup."
"Just watch the show. It's Kohane-chan's turn to tell a real ghost story."
Watanuki's sous-chef had walked onto the stage, staring down the audience one at a time, apparently scaring them into silence. "What's she telling?" Doumeki asked. "I didn't hear the announcer say."
"That's because he couldn't have known!" Watanuki had his nose about a mile in the air now. "No one can, not even Kohane-chan. She always tells the story of a ghost who's-- shush, now, she's starting. You'll see."
The girl's slow glances around the audience had left all eyes trained on her, like a magnet pulling them in. The stage presence it took to do that when she hadn't moved a muscle or said a word was nothing to scoff at. She acted as much like a pro as the organist before her had. At last, she walked up to a Kragero University student with glasses and a dazed look in her eyes.
Reaching toward an empty seat next to the Kragero girl, Kohane spoke in a voice that seemed small and personal, but at the same time carried clearly to every corner of the gathering. "There's a spirit of a cat who came here with you tonight. A pretty gray tabby with white socks on his feet..."
"Jenkins?!" the girl gasped.
"He says that's his name."
Watanuki whispered over the surprised murmurs of the crowd, "The cat's actually there, you know. I can see him stretching his back now. Kohane-chan is the real thing."
"He says," the little psychic went on, "that once you became a ghost to save his life. Would you mind if I told your story?"
"My... no, of course not! Please go ahead!"
"Very well. It all began one dark night years ago, in the art gallery here on this very campus just a few weeks before student exhibition. A lone girl walking back to her dormitory saw a flash of white in the shape of a woman and heard the echo of cats crying in the night..."
5) Exactly What It Seems (16+)
(edited version: PG-13)
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AUTHOR'S NOTES
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Thank you, thank you, thank you for waiting so patiently for this chapter. My best as always to the lovely beltenebra for whom this universe is written, and tremendous thanks to my incomparable beta reader
sumeria for always finding time in her busy schedule to give her input.
While I don't intend to run around identifying every single cameo in this story (where's the fun in spotting characters if I just tell you who they are?!) I must grant that our identified antagonists so far, Yudaiji and Nagumo, are not the most widely known characters CLAMP ever created.
Yudaiji Idomu is an anime only CLAMP School Detectives villain. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any dialogue clips for him, but he spends several episodes ingratiating himself with the Detectives only to take the entire campus hostage, forcing Nokoru to rescue everyone with his big beautiful brain. Yudaiji's only desire is to deprive Nokoru of the things he loves so he can exact his revenge for the horrible wrong Nokoru did to him years ago. As stated above, the wrong was in fact that Yudaiji's mother smiled at Nokoru once before she died. This meant revenge involving bombs and computer hacks and high speed monorail chases. Drama out the wazoo. You maybe had to be there.
Nagumo Shinji, on the other hand, was a villain invented for the Tokyo Babylon OVA: an ambitious architect born with metaphysically incredible luck who has a habit of killing his competition to rise in the ranks. Considers himself to be "the city's chosen one". About as stable as nitroglycerin. He eventually takes control of a raging inugami and attempts to kill Subaru. Far be it for Subaru to defend himself from lethal attacks, of course (young Subaru that is), so Nagumo thinks he has the upper hand. Little does he realize that, if you attack Subaru when Seishirou is around, there isn't enough luck in the world to save your life. Unless you're Fuuma. And Fuuma he is not.
Apologies for how long this chapter took to write. Not only are these chapters longer and more complicated than in previous fics, and there've been the ever-present Real Life problems, but the story of 'Snow White and the Cherry Tree' presented me with an extreme difficulty: namely that the narrative I attempted to include as a small aside overwhelmed its space, turning into a multi-chapter story in its own right, and I had to break it off halfway through to replace the original 'Snow White and the Cherry Tree' narrative with a folk song version. Let me tell you, when it takes less time to rewrite your story as a rhyming ballad, you have wildly underestimated how much story you have to tell. The good news that comes from this delay: 1) the ballad as written above can be sung to the tune of The Horse-Tamer's Daughter by Leslie Fish (with the chorus sung after every second verse, not just three times as in the linked Julia Ecklar performance), and 2) once it's finished and polished up, the full version of 'Snow White and the Cherry Tree' will be published as a multi-chapter sidestory. Because the AO3 really needs a Hamilcar Barca\Sakurazuka Setsuka relationship tag. And I promise that if I ever get enough full-length songs finished for an album, I'll consider recording them.
Now, off to work on Chapter 5! My current plan is to publish through Chapter 7, then take a break to finish my Naruto AU "The Butterfly Effect" as promised (which may end up being my NaNo project for the year). I'll be working on Chapters 8 through 12 for the holiday season.
Also: If anyone reading this will be at Otakon, please stop by the Impetuosity Productions table in the Artist Alley and say hello!
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