100 Fubaru Themes (001-010, repost with new 010)
A repost of the first ten themes, the tenth one being completely new!
100 Fubaru Themes (001-010)
puppe; 10/01/05 - 11/22/05
100 themes dealing mostly with X17+ Fuuma and Subaru.
001: Savings box
When Subaru cradled the jar containing the last remains of his opposing star, it felt like the wind picked up and the camellias and cherry flowers rustled, spreading their intoxicating scents throughout the air. It was dizzying to be overpowered by scent and the weight of the world. Subaru trembled.
"It's a little chilly. You should probably go inside," Fuuma said softly as camellia and cherry flowers blooming out of time rained down from the sudden gust of wind, but he was still audible as if the wind didn't even dare to carry his words away.
Subaru blinked remembered something taken from him long ago.
"Sumeragi...did you hear me? You should go inside before you catch something."
He hugged the jar tightly and murmured, "I'm fine." The wind erased his words, though, and Fuuma eventually escorted him inside, where the scent of camellia and cherry entwined was just as strong as in the garden.
002: Lip creme
Rummaging through Seishirou's apartment drawers, Subaru was surprised to find lip creme. At first he thought it was lipstick he had found, but upon reading the label he learned that it was actually moisturizing lip creme with uruku pigment and annatto oil.
A dozen thoughts crossed his mind: why did Seishirou-san have lip creme? was it for the spiritual aspects that uruku was thought to provide? did he just have chapped lips? was it even his? His heart sped up slightly as he held it between his fingers and stared at the thin, slightly feminine tube, as if the very act could set him into the mind of the cherry blossom assassin or the man himself; but no such enlightenment came. He sighed with the lip creme in hand and crossed from the apartment's decently-sized bathroom to its living room where Fuuma lounged in an oversized chair.
"Well?" Fuuma asked as soon as he noticed Subaru's presence in the room. "Do you need anything from the store?"
Subaru shook his head and murmured, "No...but thank you...for helping me move in and everything."
Fuuma shrugged and said, "It's no problem. Think of it as me extending Seishirou's Wish. He never liked that you were staying with the Seals, anyway."
"Makes it easier, I guess. Now that I'm..." Subaru began as he stood beside his new Kamui, trying to gesticulate what it was that he wanted to say.
"Yeah," Fuuma agreed, then he noticed something. "Hey, is that...?"
"What?"
To Subaru's surprise and sudden flash of anger, Fuuma's hand darted out and stole the tube from his fingers. "Yeah it is! Hey, I've been looking for this for a while. Where did you find it?"
"It was in one of the drawers," Subaru said, slightly bewildered as his mind went in several directions at once. "The uruku, did it actually help in his spiritual abilities? Or was it - I mean, is there a connection with it? The uruku?"
"Uruku? I don't know what you're talking about," Fuuma said simply as he applied the tube's contents to his lips. "This is my lip creme. It makes my lips moist and smooth."
A strange expression slowly crossed Subaru's face and he eventually kicked Fuuma out of the apartment.
003: Photograph
Grandmother always told him it was dangerous for onmyouji to be photographed (just like your birthday, she explained to him once, your picture can be used in an attack against you), but it was just another in a long line of constructive advice from her that he ignored. It was impossible to follow the no-photography rule in this day and age with technology becoming ever-present in society. There was simply no possible way to avoid being photographed, though he took as many precautions as an onmyouji could against the possibility of photography and psychic attack. He never even owned a camera, and back in school he and his sister would be purposefully absent on picture day and even the retake day on their grandmother's orders.
But a few months before his sister died, he came into contact with the first photograph he ever had - ever had taken of him, actually. It was a photo of his sister, himself, and their beloved friend; he kept that picture a secret and cherished it, even after their friend betrayed them and his sister died. He knew that since he owned a picture of him, he could easily cast a spell on his treacherous and murderous friend...but he never did. He stuffed the photo in a box and hid it in the back of his closet.
He never thought about photos and cameras and imprinting memories onto film (or digitally if he ever felt like getting that advanced) until after his sister's last spell kicked in and he found his hand through an old friend's chest. The night that happened, he dug the hidden box out of his closet and burned the photo; there was no point in keeping it because everyone in it was dead. He came into contact with a new secret photo, accidentally, a few months later.
The charming ladies man for the other side held a welcoming party for the "new guy" in a thinly veiled excuse to get drunk and snapped a shot of him and their leader. Though the leader for their side used to remind him of an old, lost friend, and he still thought of himself as that awkward, young kid inside, he found that the new photo presented the two of them in a very different light than what had always been in his mind. He looked a great deal older than he remembered, and thinner as well, but in his image was a stark beauty that even he couldn't ignore; in contrast, the other man in the photo looked considerably younger than he had originally remembered, and it was almost as if it was a different person he was looking at than the one he knew.
From then on, he made a point to see his leader as the person in the photo, and he continued this until the day he saw him in a completely different manner.
004: Plaster (Bandaid)
"You know, you surprise me," Fuuma said softly one night, nearly accosting Subaru in the hallway of the Angels' headquarters. He had just seen Kanoe about something, but what it was Fuuma didn't know.
"Oh...?" Subaru murmured.
"Yeah. It was like...Seishirou always had you in mind in everything he did for us. Wanting to see you, harass you a little, make sure your memory of him hadn't faded..." Fuuma went on as Subaru looked at the wall in discomfort with the potential subject. "I guess my image of you, based on what I saw at the time combined with everything he said and did...I guess it was a little distorted. And I don't admit to this sort of thing lightly."
Subaru toyed with the edge of his shirt. "...Sorry. I mean, I don't know what you thought I'd be like, but..."
Fuuma shook his head. "No, no, it's... I knew you couldn't refuse fulfilling Seishirou's Wish, but...I thought you'd be depressed, obsessive and fawning over his memory, just...useless to us in general."
Offense crept into the onmyouji's mind, but he kept quiet.
"You don't seem to be, though. You're quiet, yes, but...it's more of an observational silence than a withdrawn, depressive state. I don't know you well enough yet to tell, but as a fairly good judge of character and behavior...it just seems like you're not all that upset by his death. ...After obsessing for nearly nine years, you're just going to give it up like that?"
Subaru had to check his emotions, reminding himself of Fuuma's position in the Apocalypse. "...I'm sorry, Kamui," he said civily, "but...I don't see what gives you the right to assume what I'm thinking and feeling like that. I mean, you're right: you don't know me well enough...."
In an almost languid manner, Fuuma leaned against the wall casually. "So you're saying you really are depressed, obsessing over his memory, and generally useless?"
"No."
Fuuma shrugged almost smugly and said, "You're right, it's not in my position to assume how you are based on your current and past actions, or what someone who knew you well said. I'm not sure what I was thinking since this is none of my business. I'm terribly sorry."
"A-apology accepted," Subaru murmured uncomfortably, and the perceived sarcasm in Fuuma's tone stung for some reason.
"But, I have to admit," Fuuma continued as he moved to leave, "it really does seem like you're useful after all."
Subaru stood in the hallway long after Fuuma left until the sting was gone.
005: Oil, Sex/One's Nature Magic
It was strange to him, but the only way he really knew it was a dream - his memory had proven fatally faulty before - was because in it he was happy. And strangest of all was that he was happy in a surreal dreamworld, bound by animate cherry branches to a large tree trunk he knew all too well. And that was no stranger smiling at him in that smug, leering way, caressing the side of his face gently, murmuring how beautiful an object he was.
He was going to have a really good dream.
Seishirou's tongue flickered across Subaru's lips almost tauntingly as his hands wandered to his throat and chest, watching the other strain against the naturally unnatural bindings. Subaru wanted him to do something - anything - and as a sense of urgency crept into his mind, he wanted things to happen. Things to happen to him. And he wanted to happen to Seishirou.
His thoughts carried across in the dream, and Seishirou's hands cupped at Subaru's groin; a faint moan that increased with his ministrations echoed. He didn't even try to struggle against the branches to touch back and instead leaned further against the trunk, enjoying the dream.
The only hands that had ever physically touched him were his own, and he hadn't done that since long before he had accepted the position as the cherry blossom assassin; so long that it might have been even before Seishirou died.
So the former assassin's hands on him, cupping, stroking, pulling, even in a dream, were a much welcomed release.
Subaru's head rolled back in response, and as his eyes closed shut, his mouth parted slightly and his breath came slow. He felt Seishirou's mouth close upon his suddenly exposed cock, and almost at once he moaned as a deepening flush swept across his cheeks. "Don't stop," he whispered, though he knew that in his dream he never would until it was all over and he woke up.
It felt as if everything was building rapidly in intensity, like a small flame into a large bonfire. It kept growing and growing, and Subaru knew that soon it would burst, it had to; it had been so long that it didn't have any other choice.
Then all of a sudden it was as if the roaring fire before was immediately doused with more than enough water. "I thought you said you weren't useless and obsessing over his memory."
At once Seishirou, the cherry tree, everything disappeared, and he was transported to somewhere unfamiliar, some place he had never seen before. Subaru stood, gaping, as the reality of the new, surreal twist in his dream that had never experienced rushed to him along with the intricate details of the new surroundings in such a way that he couldn't comprehend a single bit of it. The only thing that he could comprehend he verbalized: "Fuuma...?"
Subaru wasn't sure how much time had passed, if any at all, when he found himself staring at the ceiling above his (formerly his) bed. Immediately he sat up and cupped his head, remembering the dream vividly.
No.
He laid back down and rolled over, lifting up the sheets to cover him entirely, determined not to remember what he had dreamed. He didn't want to think about the end, of what it felt like in contrast with the earlier portion of the dream, who was in it... It just wasn't something he wanted to deal with.
After a few minutes spent tossing and turning and thinking and trying to repress that which he was thinking about, he got up from the bed in search of baby oil or something of the like to help him get back to sleep, reluctantly wondering when the last time he had ever seen the ocean was.
006: Traveling abroad
He didn't even know how it worked, or how the government knew to address it to him instead of the departed Seishirou Sakurazuka, but he received his first contract for a kill by fax only a few weeks after accepting the power of the Cherry. The job was a wealthy woman in Hong Kong who, in the memory of her curiously late husband, was sticking her nose where it didn't belong as far as the Japanese government was concerned; the job must be done very discretely, the fax noted.
Subaru threw up for twenty minutes after receiving it and then booked a flight for Hong Kong, trying to calm down by reminding himself that it technically wasn't his first kill. It didn't help any and he threw up for another five minutes before calling the Dragons of Earth and leaving a vague message about not being in town for a few days.
The job itself went smoothly, and it wasn't until Subaru was back in his apartment half a week later that he burst into tears and nervous convulsions because it had gone so smoothly. He was so nice and polite to her that she never suspected him of anything until his hand was through her chest; and he had done the job so quickly and efficiently, only faltering to wonder what to do with body. In his intuition he knew that the Cherry tree would take care of it. The Cherry tree would take care of everything, and why didn't he just go back to the hotel, clean himself up, and go to sleep after a job well done? It had been so easy to just take her life, so easy.
He hated himself after that, and it certainly didn't help when Fuuma called with insinuating questions about his mentality.
007: A group of shooting stars/falling stars
"You wanted to meet me up here?" Subaru asked, slightly annoyed at the fact that Fuuma had requested for him to meet him on the roof of the Tokyo Metropolitan building; since it was after normal office hours, in the middle of the night actually, he had to jump using all his physical and spiritual onmyoujitsu abilities. Granted, they were the Angels and it wasn't so hard to jump that great length so long as there were several smaller buildings nearby, but it was still a pain.
Lounging as he looked up at the stars invisible due to light pollution, Fuuma shrugged good-naturedly and replied, "It's as good a place as any."
Subaru just sighed and anxiously took a seat next to him. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"
Fuuma took his time in answering. "Oh...stuff. Like how are you doing? Are you adjusting well to your new responsibilities and such?"
"As adjusted as I could get, in any case," Subaru murmured, not really wanting to discuss it.
"I'm surprised you're adjusting at all. You seemed too kind to be able to do that sort of work."
"I guess."
"And it's all for him?" Fuuma asked intentionally.
Subaru didn't respond.
A taxi horn blared through the night. "Well, we all have someone we act for."
"Oh, and who is it that you act for? The Earth?" and Subaru couldn't tell if his tone was genuinely interested or mocking.
Fuuma simply looked at him and smirked. "As Kamui, that'll be my little secret."
For some reason, Subaru felt agitated by this and toyed with a pebble near where he sat. He took a chance. "Kamui? You hardly act like it."
"Oh?" Fuuma asked, interested without any sign of offense.
Subaru saw the go-ahead. "When I was a Seal...we were all intimidated by you."
"Were you now? I do try to come off as rather scary to the enemy, you know. It wouldn't do for me to call them up and cheerfully invite them to lunch, now would it?"
"No, I'm serious," Subaru muttered shortly, and then continued as if it were an effort to do so, "You were so powerful and frightening with what you did that...that...and the fact that you could see our inner Wishes didn't help. But then when you came with Seishirou's eye... It was like you were a different person than what I had initially thought. I, you know, when I was a Seal, thought you were actually evil at first, so...well..."
Fuuma held up a hand to stop him. "You were no longer a Seal and a threat, and if I wanted you to grant Seishirou's Wish and join my side, why would I act as I had before? And who's to say I'm actually not evil? What if I'm just acting like this for you?"
Subaru swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly dry. "Well, if you were acting, and you really were evil, then why treat me differently than, say, Kusanagi or Kanoe? I've noticed you're very authoritative with them."
"Maybe I want something from you and know that if I act like I do to the rest of the Angels, I could never get it?" Fuuma asked and almost smiled.
"Well then, I don't understand what you could possibly want with me now."
"Do you have to understand?"
"I'd like to."
Fuuma considered this briefly and then regressed, "It was just a hypothesis, anyway. I may not even exactly want anything from you. You never know."
"Then why treat me differently?"
"People like Kusanagi and Kanoe expect me to be a certain person, like the powerful dark Kamui, and they see me that way. You used to expect me to this horrible person who'd rip the head off a comrade just for fun, and you saw me as Seishirou, a man who'd make a fatal bet with an unsuspecting kid just for amusement. Maybe you see me as someone else now. Did you ever think that who you see me as might be who I become?"
Subaru thought about this for a few moments before asking, "Is that the case, then? If I thought of you as Seishirou again, would you become him?"
"Is that what you want?"
"...No," he finally said.
"...It was just another hypothesis, anyway," Fuuma smiled as he looked back to the starless sky. "We can live without understanding things, can't we? Like how a city could allow itself to smother away potential dreams and wishes by never sleeping."
Looking up as if he could gain enlightenment from the dark blanket above, Subaru admitted, "I'm not sure that I know what you mean now."
"Kids and hopeless romantics traditionally wish upon falling stars, but, as you can see, there are no stars in the sky because the city won't rest at night. The sun has gone down, to sleep perhaps, but this city never will, and it continues to persist with all its lights, drowning out the stars that come out at night. The stars don't fall anymore, so people don't make wishes."
Subaru gave him a strange look. "Just because we don't see it doesn't mean that it doesn't happen."
Fuuma turned to look at him, almost delicately, with only a faded smile. "Exactly."
The expression that crossed Subaru's face was almost of someone looking at a painting of a pointless scribble that the rest of the world deemed a masterpiece. In the end, instead of a sarcastic or confused retort, he simply settled for minutely shaking his head and lapsing into silence; several minutes passed before he spoke again.
"...So was it fun?"
"Was what fun?"
"Killing Saiki," Subaru clarified, his voice airy yet grave.
Fuuma took a few moments to answer. "Everyone's allowed to have a few secrets, aren't they? So let that be one of mine."
"You certainly have your share of secrets, then."
"Just keeping up with you, Sumeragi," Fuuma replied with an odd smirk.
For a reason he didn't care to acknowledge, Subaru seemed decidedly uncomfortable by that and left shortly thereafter.
008: Ball game
The street light near the court hummed and flickered overhead as the repetitive sound of a basketball bouncing off the pavement reverberated through the empty lot and streets. It pierced through the stillness that the late hour created in such a way that Subaru was almost afraid of it.
When he spoke, he was almost relieved that his own voice wasn't as devastating to the silence as the sound of the basketball Fuuma dribbled. "I...don't know how to play."
"Nonsense," Fuuma said as he stopped to make a basket; it went through perfectly and dropped down to the pavement a few times before rolling a little. "I'll teach you." He picked up the ball and immediately threw a chest pass to Subaru.
Though quick reflexes stopped the ball from crashing into him entirely, it still hit into his chest hard enough to ache afterwards. Subaru looked to Fuuma and the ball awkwardly. "Er...what am I supposed to do with it?"
Fuuma's eyebrow slightly rose. "Well, for starters, try dribbling - bouncing the ball, you know - to get a feel for it. Not so much with your palm, though...try and splay your fingers a little..."
"Oh...okay," Subaru replied softly and nodded with total obedience like the good student he had always tried to be in school. He bounced the ball once at waist-level, again near his near his knees, and then once more a little lower before the ball bounced rapidly against the pavement and rolled off. His cheeks flushed and he stood straight up in embarassment.
"It's okay," Fuuma said simply with his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the chain-link fence surrounding the court. "Pick it up and try again."
Subaru sighed and fetched the ball. Weakly, he tried to get out of the experience, "...I'm really not good with things like this. I mean, I never was, not even when I was younger, so --"
"Pick it up and try again, Subaru," Fuuma interrupted in a soft but stern command.
Once more Subaru sighed - a little less audibly this time - and obeyed reluctantly. This time he kept the ball bouncing a little longer before it rolled off again.
"You're doing better," Fuuma remarked, as if he was his calm and collected coach from years before. "Now, again."
For the third time, Subaru tried dribbling the ball, but instead of eventually bouncing to a stop, it caught on his shoe and shot halfway across the court. Red-faced, he began to show outward signs of frustration.
"That's okay. Try again."
"Fuuma--"
"Again," Fuuma repeated sternly, but Subaru was too frustrated to obey.
He fidgeted slightly. "Look, Fuuma, I know I said that I'd play with you, but this is just embarassing - to both of us, I'm sure."
Something imperceptible flashed across Fuuma's eyes, but after a moment he nodded. "You'll get it eventually. Now, let's work on your shooting. Try to make a basket on your own this first time."
Relieved at trying something else, Subaru nodded and retreived the ball, positioning himself near the basket. Awkwardly he threw it in a little jump, and the ball sailed a few feet in front of him, hitting the pavement woefully. He was beginning to regret trying this and murmured, "I don't think I can play this game, Fuuma..."
"No, no, it was a good try," he reassured as he moved from his spot against the fence. "But let me show you how to make a throw..." Fuuma gathered the ball and approached Subaru from behind, handing it to him before explaining. "Now, what you want to do is sort of aim. Let your dominant hand push and guide the ball." His hands crept alongside Subaru's and rested on them, moving Subaru and the ball into position.
Subaru's mouth went dry.
Fuuma murmured, his lips against Subaru's ear, "Now...like I said...use your arms and let your dominant hand guide..." With the two of them pushing the ball through, it sailed forward and bounced off the basket's rim. "See?" Fuuma asked, more relaxed, "Granted we didn't make it because it's a little difficult with two separate forces, but do you get it now?"
It took Subaru a little while to answer. "...Can you show me again?"
009: King
Kanoe had told him sarcastically that the "King" was in his "throne" room with his little pet and didn't wish to be disturbed, but Subaru somehow felt confident enough to go at it despite her bitchiness that evening. Besides, he knew she was just angry at their Kamui because he insulted her on a whim in addition to refusing to do anything she artfully suggested. He wondered if she knew she wasn't secretly in charge after all.
It didn't matter anyway, he supposed, because in the end the world would end or it wouldn't end, and it would either be the both, one, or none of them that did it.
He didn't really know, though he somewhat fancied a particular option.
As he fast approached the "throne" room, he could vaguely make out the sound of laughter - Nataku's laughter, he assumed - and at once it felt out of place, as if it shouldn't belong in a place dedicated to the destruction of humanity. Nataku laughed again, and at what he didn't know, but it followed by a playfully rue-sounding, Daddy!, which fell apart into giggles again. The door to the room was ajar only slightly, but it still gave Subaru a glimpse at what was happening.
Nataku held his ear with his hand and smiled at "Daddy," the King, as he said something softly to Nataku that made him giggle tiredly like a young child. Then he rest the ear his hand held on the King's open lap and looked up at him adoringly as Fuuma stroked his head delicately.
For some reason, Subaru oddly had difficulty swallowing.
"Do you still have an earache, Kazuki?"
Subaru saw Nataku nod and then heard their Kamui sigh.
"Just a little bit and I'm sure the medicine Satsuki found for you will make it go away."
A few moments of silence and inactivity passed before Nataku asked, "Daddy, does this earache make me human?"
Daddy chose his words carefully. "I don't know, Kazuki, but...even if it didn't, that wouldn't matter. I don't care what you are, so you shouldn't, either, because I'd love you either way."
"I love you, too, Daddy," Nataku murmured, and it was obvious he was nearing his version of sleep. "Thank you for...taking care of me..."
As the King closed his eyes and rest his head against the back of his "throne," Subaru drew back from the door, the surrealistic scene still very fresh in his mind, and he wondered how much of Fuuma's words were truth.
010: Burn
The night Nataku died, Subaru found Fuuma alone up on the roof of the Metropolitan building, watching the dark and starless sky. It took Fuuma a few moments to notice his presence, but when he did, he greeted icily, "Oh, out for a stroll?"
Subaru didn't answer immediately and instead sat down un-invited near his 'Kamui.' "Kanoe was wondering where you were..."
"Did she send you to fetch me?"
"No, I came on my own," Subaru responded, "and I figured you would be here."
Fuuma seemed to take this into consideration and stared back up at the sky.
In the silence that followed, Subaru fidgeted with the gloves he wore, pulling the tip of his ring finger every so often. "So," he began eventually, "...are you alright?"
"Of course," was Fuuma's immediate response. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, Nataku died today..."
Fuuma's voice came on like a heavy, acidic burn. "I know Kazuki died today, I killed him didn't I?"
Subaru's cheeks flushed in frustration. "Yes, that happened, and...are you okay? That's what I want to know. ...If you're alright. How you're feeling."
"It was his wish, so what I feel is unimportant."
"That's not true," Subaru murmured, drawing his knees up and resting his chin on them. "Just because someone chooses to die for some reason...or someone...does not mean that your feelings are unimportant."
Fuuma sighed as he stretched out against the concrete, Subaru's eyes following all his motions, and asked, "And I suppose you're the expert on that, right? The effect of death is more important than death itself for you, I suppose? Is that why you gave up your dreams and personality to pursue an unhealthy wish? And why you're allowed to make those around you suffer just because it's how you were feeling after she died? After he died?"
At once Subaru's breath caught, his Kamui's words almost like a blanket of suffocation. "That was," he managed with obvious strain in his voice as his eyes cast downwards, "hardly...necessary."
"Just because you didn't like what I had to say, right? Well, you're hardly the person I want to receive comfort from, anyway." A short and uncomfortable moment passed before Fuuma rose up to leave, remarking, "Our feelings are unimportant against our duties. ...I'll come to you if I want to talk."
Subaru closed his eyes and buried his face into his knees, feeling the lump build in his throat. He knew that he had acted at the expense of his grandmother after Hokuto died, losing his innocence as he tried to become more like Seishirou to keep him close and understand why he did what he did. It was a fruitless exercise as it seemed that he never quite succeeded in knowing the man, and the only things he gained were a terrible addiction and jaded outlook on life.
And he knew he had acted very selfishly after Seishirou died, as well, abandoning Kamui and the rest of the Seals in favor of the destruction of humanity simply because he wanted to be closer to Seishirou and didn't see the point in a world where his loved ones weren't around existing. The awareness of his own self-driven behavior didn't help how he felt about himself. He hated himself for burning all his bridges to become an Angel, and he hated himself for being that as well.
Yet, in the face of all his actions, the thing he realized he hated himself most for was the fact that despite all this, he was happier than he was before. He had friendly and affectionate comrades while he was a Seal, but his fellow Angels were just as self-serving as himself and fiercely individual so the community atmosphere that he secretly enjoyed was lost, yet there was something else.
Someone else.
The lump in his throat grew as he remembered Fuuma's words then, his previous words somewhere else, all of his words everywhere. His new Kamui seemed to vary between unusual kindness and closeness and almost deliberate cruelty and distance. He didn't understand it, or why it burned so much, because, after all, Satsuki and Kanoe would act similarly towards him, yet it never hurt though his mood may have soured briefly.
No matter how cruel his words became or how distant he was, Subaru still looked forward to seeing Fuuma again. He didn't understand it at first, and he even entertained the thought that he still considered him as Seishirou, though he couldn't truly believe that for himself. He had begun to see Fuuma in a fashion all on his own, after all, and that fashion definitely wasn't of a dead assassin.
He couldn't deny the similarities in the two, however, or the similarities in his heart rate in reaction to them: an increase upon sight and a skip upon burn.
Subaru rubbed his throat and relaxed more on the concrete, watching the ledge of the roof without interest as he thought how silly it was to get worked up over a single person. Why should he care what his Kamui thought of him, or what he said to him? The vague inflections in his voice, the minute gestures of his body? Why did it matter whether or not he said good morning or good afternoon, evening, night, or even hello to him first?
The truth of it was, he realized dully, was that he didn't give a damn about his Kamui.
He cared about Fuuma.
There didn't seem to be a clear reason or thought why, but it just seemed to be a fact that Fuuma was more special than anyone else at the moment in Subaru's eyes despite the fact that he didn't quite understand any of it. He suppose he just knew Fuuma was special as he knew Seishirou was special, even as an innocent and awkward teenager.
And that was why it hurt. Had he still been sixteen, that would have been all he knew, but Subaru was an older man of twenty-five, and from experience and observance he knew a great deal more, though his understanding had hardly increased.
Subaru was glad Fuuma had left as he put his hand to his forehead, consciously realizing for the first time that he was falling for him.
100 Fubaru Themes (001-010)
puppe; 10/01/05 - 11/22/05
100 themes dealing mostly with X17+ Fuuma and Subaru.
001: Savings box
When Subaru cradled the jar containing the last remains of his opposing star, it felt like the wind picked up and the camellias and cherry flowers rustled, spreading their intoxicating scents throughout the air. It was dizzying to be overpowered by scent and the weight of the world. Subaru trembled.
"It's a little chilly. You should probably go inside," Fuuma said softly as camellia and cherry flowers blooming out of time rained down from the sudden gust of wind, but he was still audible as if the wind didn't even dare to carry his words away.
Subaru blinked remembered something taken from him long ago.
"Sumeragi...did you hear me? You should go inside before you catch something."
He hugged the jar tightly and murmured, "I'm fine." The wind erased his words, though, and Fuuma eventually escorted him inside, where the scent of camellia and cherry entwined was just as strong as in the garden.
002: Lip creme
Rummaging through Seishirou's apartment drawers, Subaru was surprised to find lip creme. At first he thought it was lipstick he had found, but upon reading the label he learned that it was actually moisturizing lip creme with uruku pigment and annatto oil.
A dozen thoughts crossed his mind: why did Seishirou-san have lip creme? was it for the spiritual aspects that uruku was thought to provide? did he just have chapped lips? was it even his? His heart sped up slightly as he held it between his fingers and stared at the thin, slightly feminine tube, as if the very act could set him into the mind of the cherry blossom assassin or the man himself; but no such enlightenment came. He sighed with the lip creme in hand and crossed from the apartment's decently-sized bathroom to its living room where Fuuma lounged in an oversized chair.
"Well?" Fuuma asked as soon as he noticed Subaru's presence in the room. "Do you need anything from the store?"
Subaru shook his head and murmured, "No...but thank you...for helping me move in and everything."
Fuuma shrugged and said, "It's no problem. Think of it as me extending Seishirou's Wish. He never liked that you were staying with the Seals, anyway."
"Makes it easier, I guess. Now that I'm..." Subaru began as he stood beside his new Kamui, trying to gesticulate what it was that he wanted to say.
"Yeah," Fuuma agreed, then he noticed something. "Hey, is that...?"
"What?"
To Subaru's surprise and sudden flash of anger, Fuuma's hand darted out and stole the tube from his fingers. "Yeah it is! Hey, I've been looking for this for a while. Where did you find it?"
"It was in one of the drawers," Subaru said, slightly bewildered as his mind went in several directions at once. "The uruku, did it actually help in his spiritual abilities? Or was it - I mean, is there a connection with it? The uruku?"
"Uruku? I don't know what you're talking about," Fuuma said simply as he applied the tube's contents to his lips. "This is my lip creme. It makes my lips moist and smooth."
A strange expression slowly crossed Subaru's face and he eventually kicked Fuuma out of the apartment.
003: Photograph
Grandmother always told him it was dangerous for onmyouji to be photographed (just like your birthday, she explained to him once, your picture can be used in an attack against you), but it was just another in a long line of constructive advice from her that he ignored. It was impossible to follow the no-photography rule in this day and age with technology becoming ever-present in society. There was simply no possible way to avoid being photographed, though he took as many precautions as an onmyouji could against the possibility of photography and psychic attack. He never even owned a camera, and back in school he and his sister would be purposefully absent on picture day and even the retake day on their grandmother's orders.
But a few months before his sister died, he came into contact with the first photograph he ever had - ever had taken of him, actually. It was a photo of his sister, himself, and their beloved friend; he kept that picture a secret and cherished it, even after their friend betrayed them and his sister died. He knew that since he owned a picture of him, he could easily cast a spell on his treacherous and murderous friend...but he never did. He stuffed the photo in a box and hid it in the back of his closet.
He never thought about photos and cameras and imprinting memories onto film (or digitally if he ever felt like getting that advanced) until after his sister's last spell kicked in and he found his hand through an old friend's chest. The night that happened, he dug the hidden box out of his closet and burned the photo; there was no point in keeping it because everyone in it was dead. He came into contact with a new secret photo, accidentally, a few months later.
The charming ladies man for the other side held a welcoming party for the "new guy" in a thinly veiled excuse to get drunk and snapped a shot of him and their leader. Though the leader for their side used to remind him of an old, lost friend, and he still thought of himself as that awkward, young kid inside, he found that the new photo presented the two of them in a very different light than what had always been in his mind. He looked a great deal older than he remembered, and thinner as well, but in his image was a stark beauty that even he couldn't ignore; in contrast, the other man in the photo looked considerably younger than he had originally remembered, and it was almost as if it was a different person he was looking at than the one he knew.
From then on, he made a point to see his leader as the person in the photo, and he continued this until the day he saw him in a completely different manner.
004: Plaster (Bandaid)
"You know, you surprise me," Fuuma said softly one night, nearly accosting Subaru in the hallway of the Angels' headquarters. He had just seen Kanoe about something, but what it was Fuuma didn't know.
"Oh...?" Subaru murmured.
"Yeah. It was like...Seishirou always had you in mind in everything he did for us. Wanting to see you, harass you a little, make sure your memory of him hadn't faded..." Fuuma went on as Subaru looked at the wall in discomfort with the potential subject. "I guess my image of you, based on what I saw at the time combined with everything he said and did...I guess it was a little distorted. And I don't admit to this sort of thing lightly."
Subaru toyed with the edge of his shirt. "...Sorry. I mean, I don't know what you thought I'd be like, but..."
Fuuma shook his head. "No, no, it's... I knew you couldn't refuse fulfilling Seishirou's Wish, but...I thought you'd be depressed, obsessive and fawning over his memory, just...useless to us in general."
Offense crept into the onmyouji's mind, but he kept quiet.
"You don't seem to be, though. You're quiet, yes, but...it's more of an observational silence than a withdrawn, depressive state. I don't know you well enough yet to tell, but as a fairly good judge of character and behavior...it just seems like you're not all that upset by his death. ...After obsessing for nearly nine years, you're just going to give it up like that?"
Subaru had to check his emotions, reminding himself of Fuuma's position in the Apocalypse. "...I'm sorry, Kamui," he said civily, "but...I don't see what gives you the right to assume what I'm thinking and feeling like that. I mean, you're right: you don't know me well enough...."
In an almost languid manner, Fuuma leaned against the wall casually. "So you're saying you really are depressed, obsessing over his memory, and generally useless?"
"No."
Fuuma shrugged almost smugly and said, "You're right, it's not in my position to assume how you are based on your current and past actions, or what someone who knew you well said. I'm not sure what I was thinking since this is none of my business. I'm terribly sorry."
"A-apology accepted," Subaru murmured uncomfortably, and the perceived sarcasm in Fuuma's tone stung for some reason.
"But, I have to admit," Fuuma continued as he moved to leave, "it really does seem like you're useful after all."
Subaru stood in the hallway long after Fuuma left until the sting was gone.
005: Oil, Sex/One's Nature Magic
It was strange to him, but the only way he really knew it was a dream - his memory had proven fatally faulty before - was because in it he was happy. And strangest of all was that he was happy in a surreal dreamworld, bound by animate cherry branches to a large tree trunk he knew all too well. And that was no stranger smiling at him in that smug, leering way, caressing the side of his face gently, murmuring how beautiful an object he was.
He was going to have a really good dream.
Seishirou's tongue flickered across Subaru's lips almost tauntingly as his hands wandered to his throat and chest, watching the other strain against the naturally unnatural bindings. Subaru wanted him to do something - anything - and as a sense of urgency crept into his mind, he wanted things to happen. Things to happen to him. And he wanted to happen to Seishirou.
His thoughts carried across in the dream, and Seishirou's hands cupped at Subaru's groin; a faint moan that increased with his ministrations echoed. He didn't even try to struggle against the branches to touch back and instead leaned further against the trunk, enjoying the dream.
The only hands that had ever physically touched him were his own, and he hadn't done that since long before he had accepted the position as the cherry blossom assassin; so long that it might have been even before Seishirou died.
So the former assassin's hands on him, cupping, stroking, pulling, even in a dream, were a much welcomed release.
Subaru's head rolled back in response, and as his eyes closed shut, his mouth parted slightly and his breath came slow. He felt Seishirou's mouth close upon his suddenly exposed cock, and almost at once he moaned as a deepening flush swept across his cheeks. "Don't stop," he whispered, though he knew that in his dream he never would until it was all over and he woke up.
It felt as if everything was building rapidly in intensity, like a small flame into a large bonfire. It kept growing and growing, and Subaru knew that soon it would burst, it had to; it had been so long that it didn't have any other choice.
Then all of a sudden it was as if the roaring fire before was immediately doused with more than enough water. "I thought you said you weren't useless and obsessing over his memory."
At once Seishirou, the cherry tree, everything disappeared, and he was transported to somewhere unfamiliar, some place he had never seen before. Subaru stood, gaping, as the reality of the new, surreal twist in his dream that had never experienced rushed to him along with the intricate details of the new surroundings in such a way that he couldn't comprehend a single bit of it. The only thing that he could comprehend he verbalized: "Fuuma...?"
Subaru wasn't sure how much time had passed, if any at all, when he found himself staring at the ceiling above his (formerly his) bed. Immediately he sat up and cupped his head, remembering the dream vividly.
No.
He laid back down and rolled over, lifting up the sheets to cover him entirely, determined not to remember what he had dreamed. He didn't want to think about the end, of what it felt like in contrast with the earlier portion of the dream, who was in it... It just wasn't something he wanted to deal with.
After a few minutes spent tossing and turning and thinking and trying to repress that which he was thinking about, he got up from the bed in search of baby oil or something of the like to help him get back to sleep, reluctantly wondering when the last time he had ever seen the ocean was.
006: Traveling abroad
He didn't even know how it worked, or how the government knew to address it to him instead of the departed Seishirou Sakurazuka, but he received his first contract for a kill by fax only a few weeks after accepting the power of the Cherry. The job was a wealthy woman in Hong Kong who, in the memory of her curiously late husband, was sticking her nose where it didn't belong as far as the Japanese government was concerned; the job must be done very discretely, the fax noted.
Subaru threw up for twenty minutes after receiving it and then booked a flight for Hong Kong, trying to calm down by reminding himself that it technically wasn't his first kill. It didn't help any and he threw up for another five minutes before calling the Dragons of Earth and leaving a vague message about not being in town for a few days.
The job itself went smoothly, and it wasn't until Subaru was back in his apartment half a week later that he burst into tears and nervous convulsions because it had gone so smoothly. He was so nice and polite to her that she never suspected him of anything until his hand was through her chest; and he had done the job so quickly and efficiently, only faltering to wonder what to do with body. In his intuition he knew that the Cherry tree would take care of it. The Cherry tree would take care of everything, and why didn't he just go back to the hotel, clean himself up, and go to sleep after a job well done? It had been so easy to just take her life, so easy.
He hated himself after that, and it certainly didn't help when Fuuma called with insinuating questions about his mentality.
007: A group of shooting stars/falling stars
"You wanted to meet me up here?" Subaru asked, slightly annoyed at the fact that Fuuma had requested for him to meet him on the roof of the Tokyo Metropolitan building; since it was after normal office hours, in the middle of the night actually, he had to jump using all his physical and spiritual onmyoujitsu abilities. Granted, they were the Angels and it wasn't so hard to jump that great length so long as there were several smaller buildings nearby, but it was still a pain.
Lounging as he looked up at the stars invisible due to light pollution, Fuuma shrugged good-naturedly and replied, "It's as good a place as any."
Subaru just sighed and anxiously took a seat next to him. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"
Fuuma took his time in answering. "Oh...stuff. Like how are you doing? Are you adjusting well to your new responsibilities and such?"
"As adjusted as I could get, in any case," Subaru murmured, not really wanting to discuss it.
"I'm surprised you're adjusting at all. You seemed too kind to be able to do that sort of work."
"I guess."
"And it's all for him?" Fuuma asked intentionally.
Subaru didn't respond.
A taxi horn blared through the night. "Well, we all have someone we act for."
"Oh, and who is it that you act for? The Earth?" and Subaru couldn't tell if his tone was genuinely interested or mocking.
Fuuma simply looked at him and smirked. "As Kamui, that'll be my little secret."
For some reason, Subaru felt agitated by this and toyed with a pebble near where he sat. He took a chance. "Kamui? You hardly act like it."
"Oh?" Fuuma asked, interested without any sign of offense.
Subaru saw the go-ahead. "When I was a Seal...we were all intimidated by you."
"Were you now? I do try to come off as rather scary to the enemy, you know. It wouldn't do for me to call them up and cheerfully invite them to lunch, now would it?"
"No, I'm serious," Subaru muttered shortly, and then continued as if it were an effort to do so, "You were so powerful and frightening with what you did that...that...and the fact that you could see our inner Wishes didn't help. But then when you came with Seishirou's eye... It was like you were a different person than what I had initially thought. I, you know, when I was a Seal, thought you were actually evil at first, so...well..."
Fuuma held up a hand to stop him. "You were no longer a Seal and a threat, and if I wanted you to grant Seishirou's Wish and join my side, why would I act as I had before? And who's to say I'm actually not evil? What if I'm just acting like this for you?"
Subaru swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly dry. "Well, if you were acting, and you really were evil, then why treat me differently than, say, Kusanagi or Kanoe? I've noticed you're very authoritative with them."
"Maybe I want something from you and know that if I act like I do to the rest of the Angels, I could never get it?" Fuuma asked and almost smiled.
"Well then, I don't understand what you could possibly want with me now."
"Do you have to understand?"
"I'd like to."
Fuuma considered this briefly and then regressed, "It was just a hypothesis, anyway. I may not even exactly want anything from you. You never know."
"Then why treat me differently?"
"People like Kusanagi and Kanoe expect me to be a certain person, like the powerful dark Kamui, and they see me that way. You used to expect me to this horrible person who'd rip the head off a comrade just for fun, and you saw me as Seishirou, a man who'd make a fatal bet with an unsuspecting kid just for amusement. Maybe you see me as someone else now. Did you ever think that who you see me as might be who I become?"
Subaru thought about this for a few moments before asking, "Is that the case, then? If I thought of you as Seishirou again, would you become him?"
"Is that what you want?"
"...No," he finally said.
"...It was just another hypothesis, anyway," Fuuma smiled as he looked back to the starless sky. "We can live without understanding things, can't we? Like how a city could allow itself to smother away potential dreams and wishes by never sleeping."
Looking up as if he could gain enlightenment from the dark blanket above, Subaru admitted, "I'm not sure that I know what you mean now."
"Kids and hopeless romantics traditionally wish upon falling stars, but, as you can see, there are no stars in the sky because the city won't rest at night. The sun has gone down, to sleep perhaps, but this city never will, and it continues to persist with all its lights, drowning out the stars that come out at night. The stars don't fall anymore, so people don't make wishes."
Subaru gave him a strange look. "Just because we don't see it doesn't mean that it doesn't happen."
Fuuma turned to look at him, almost delicately, with only a faded smile. "Exactly."
The expression that crossed Subaru's face was almost of someone looking at a painting of a pointless scribble that the rest of the world deemed a masterpiece. In the end, instead of a sarcastic or confused retort, he simply settled for minutely shaking his head and lapsing into silence; several minutes passed before he spoke again.
"...So was it fun?"
"Was what fun?"
"Killing Saiki," Subaru clarified, his voice airy yet grave.
Fuuma took a few moments to answer. "Everyone's allowed to have a few secrets, aren't they? So let that be one of mine."
"You certainly have your share of secrets, then."
"Just keeping up with you, Sumeragi," Fuuma replied with an odd smirk.
For a reason he didn't care to acknowledge, Subaru seemed decidedly uncomfortable by that and left shortly thereafter.
008: Ball game
The street light near the court hummed and flickered overhead as the repetitive sound of a basketball bouncing off the pavement reverberated through the empty lot and streets. It pierced through the stillness that the late hour created in such a way that Subaru was almost afraid of it.
When he spoke, he was almost relieved that his own voice wasn't as devastating to the silence as the sound of the basketball Fuuma dribbled. "I...don't know how to play."
"Nonsense," Fuuma said as he stopped to make a basket; it went through perfectly and dropped down to the pavement a few times before rolling a little. "I'll teach you." He picked up the ball and immediately threw a chest pass to Subaru.
Though quick reflexes stopped the ball from crashing into him entirely, it still hit into his chest hard enough to ache afterwards. Subaru looked to Fuuma and the ball awkwardly. "Er...what am I supposed to do with it?"
Fuuma's eyebrow slightly rose. "Well, for starters, try dribbling - bouncing the ball, you know - to get a feel for it. Not so much with your palm, though...try and splay your fingers a little..."
"Oh...okay," Subaru replied softly and nodded with total obedience like the good student he had always tried to be in school. He bounced the ball once at waist-level, again near his near his knees, and then once more a little lower before the ball bounced rapidly against the pavement and rolled off. His cheeks flushed and he stood straight up in embarassment.
"It's okay," Fuuma said simply with his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the chain-link fence surrounding the court. "Pick it up and try again."
Subaru sighed and fetched the ball. Weakly, he tried to get out of the experience, "...I'm really not good with things like this. I mean, I never was, not even when I was younger, so --"
"Pick it up and try again, Subaru," Fuuma interrupted in a soft but stern command.
Once more Subaru sighed - a little less audibly this time - and obeyed reluctantly. This time he kept the ball bouncing a little longer before it rolled off again.
"You're doing better," Fuuma remarked, as if he was his calm and collected coach from years before. "Now, again."
For the third time, Subaru tried dribbling the ball, but instead of eventually bouncing to a stop, it caught on his shoe and shot halfway across the court. Red-faced, he began to show outward signs of frustration.
"That's okay. Try again."
"Fuuma--"
"Again," Fuuma repeated sternly, but Subaru was too frustrated to obey.
He fidgeted slightly. "Look, Fuuma, I know I said that I'd play with you, but this is just embarassing - to both of us, I'm sure."
Something imperceptible flashed across Fuuma's eyes, but after a moment he nodded. "You'll get it eventually. Now, let's work on your shooting. Try to make a basket on your own this first time."
Relieved at trying something else, Subaru nodded and retreived the ball, positioning himself near the basket. Awkwardly he threw it in a little jump, and the ball sailed a few feet in front of him, hitting the pavement woefully. He was beginning to regret trying this and murmured, "I don't think I can play this game, Fuuma..."
"No, no, it was a good try," he reassured as he moved from his spot against the fence. "But let me show you how to make a throw..." Fuuma gathered the ball and approached Subaru from behind, handing it to him before explaining. "Now, what you want to do is sort of aim. Let your dominant hand push and guide the ball." His hands crept alongside Subaru's and rested on them, moving Subaru and the ball into position.
Subaru's mouth went dry.
Fuuma murmured, his lips against Subaru's ear, "Now...like I said...use your arms and let your dominant hand guide..." With the two of them pushing the ball through, it sailed forward and bounced off the basket's rim. "See?" Fuuma asked, more relaxed, "Granted we didn't make it because it's a little difficult with two separate forces, but do you get it now?"
It took Subaru a little while to answer. "...Can you show me again?"
009: King
Kanoe had told him sarcastically that the "King" was in his "throne" room with his little pet and didn't wish to be disturbed, but Subaru somehow felt confident enough to go at it despite her bitchiness that evening. Besides, he knew she was just angry at their Kamui because he insulted her on a whim in addition to refusing to do anything she artfully suggested. He wondered if she knew she wasn't secretly in charge after all.
It didn't matter anyway, he supposed, because in the end the world would end or it wouldn't end, and it would either be the both, one, or none of them that did it.
He didn't really know, though he somewhat fancied a particular option.
As he fast approached the "throne" room, he could vaguely make out the sound of laughter - Nataku's laughter, he assumed - and at once it felt out of place, as if it shouldn't belong in a place dedicated to the destruction of humanity. Nataku laughed again, and at what he didn't know, but it followed by a playfully rue-sounding, Daddy!, which fell apart into giggles again. The door to the room was ajar only slightly, but it still gave Subaru a glimpse at what was happening.
Nataku held his ear with his hand and smiled at "Daddy," the King, as he said something softly to Nataku that made him giggle tiredly like a young child. Then he rest the ear his hand held on the King's open lap and looked up at him adoringly as Fuuma stroked his head delicately.
For some reason, Subaru oddly had difficulty swallowing.
"Do you still have an earache, Kazuki?"
Subaru saw Nataku nod and then heard their Kamui sigh.
"Just a little bit and I'm sure the medicine Satsuki found for you will make it go away."
A few moments of silence and inactivity passed before Nataku asked, "Daddy, does this earache make me human?"
Daddy chose his words carefully. "I don't know, Kazuki, but...even if it didn't, that wouldn't matter. I don't care what you are, so you shouldn't, either, because I'd love you either way."
"I love you, too, Daddy," Nataku murmured, and it was obvious he was nearing his version of sleep. "Thank you for...taking care of me..."
As the King closed his eyes and rest his head against the back of his "throne," Subaru drew back from the door, the surrealistic scene still very fresh in his mind, and he wondered how much of Fuuma's words were truth.
010: Burn
The night Nataku died, Subaru found Fuuma alone up on the roof of the Metropolitan building, watching the dark and starless sky. It took Fuuma a few moments to notice his presence, but when he did, he greeted icily, "Oh, out for a stroll?"
Subaru didn't answer immediately and instead sat down un-invited near his 'Kamui.' "Kanoe was wondering where you were..."
"Did she send you to fetch me?"
"No, I came on my own," Subaru responded, "and I figured you would be here."
Fuuma seemed to take this into consideration and stared back up at the sky.
In the silence that followed, Subaru fidgeted with the gloves he wore, pulling the tip of his ring finger every so often. "So," he began eventually, "...are you alright?"
"Of course," was Fuuma's immediate response. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, Nataku died today..."
Fuuma's voice came on like a heavy, acidic burn. "I know Kazuki died today, I killed him didn't I?"
Subaru's cheeks flushed in frustration. "Yes, that happened, and...are you okay? That's what I want to know. ...If you're alright. How you're feeling."
"It was his wish, so what I feel is unimportant."
"That's not true," Subaru murmured, drawing his knees up and resting his chin on them. "Just because someone chooses to die for some reason...or someone...does not mean that your feelings are unimportant."
Fuuma sighed as he stretched out against the concrete, Subaru's eyes following all his motions, and asked, "And I suppose you're the expert on that, right? The effect of death is more important than death itself for you, I suppose? Is that why you gave up your dreams and personality to pursue an unhealthy wish? And why you're allowed to make those around you suffer just because it's how you were feeling after she died? After he died?"
At once Subaru's breath caught, his Kamui's words almost like a blanket of suffocation. "That was," he managed with obvious strain in his voice as his eyes cast downwards, "hardly...necessary."
"Just because you didn't like what I had to say, right? Well, you're hardly the person I want to receive comfort from, anyway." A short and uncomfortable moment passed before Fuuma rose up to leave, remarking, "Our feelings are unimportant against our duties. ...I'll come to you if I want to talk."
Subaru closed his eyes and buried his face into his knees, feeling the lump build in his throat. He knew that he had acted at the expense of his grandmother after Hokuto died, losing his innocence as he tried to become more like Seishirou to keep him close and understand why he did what he did. It was a fruitless exercise as it seemed that he never quite succeeded in knowing the man, and the only things he gained were a terrible addiction and jaded outlook on life.
And he knew he had acted very selfishly after Seishirou died, as well, abandoning Kamui and the rest of the Seals in favor of the destruction of humanity simply because he wanted to be closer to Seishirou and didn't see the point in a world where his loved ones weren't around existing. The awareness of his own self-driven behavior didn't help how he felt about himself. He hated himself for burning all his bridges to become an Angel, and he hated himself for being that as well.
Yet, in the face of all his actions, the thing he realized he hated himself most for was the fact that despite all this, he was happier than he was before. He had friendly and affectionate comrades while he was a Seal, but his fellow Angels were just as self-serving as himself and fiercely individual so the community atmosphere that he secretly enjoyed was lost, yet there was something else.
Someone else.
The lump in his throat grew as he remembered Fuuma's words then, his previous words somewhere else, all of his words everywhere. His new Kamui seemed to vary between unusual kindness and closeness and almost deliberate cruelty and distance. He didn't understand it, or why it burned so much, because, after all, Satsuki and Kanoe would act similarly towards him, yet it never hurt though his mood may have soured briefly.
No matter how cruel his words became or how distant he was, Subaru still looked forward to seeing Fuuma again. He didn't understand it at first, and he even entertained the thought that he still considered him as Seishirou, though he couldn't truly believe that for himself. He had begun to see Fuuma in a fashion all on his own, after all, and that fashion definitely wasn't of a dead assassin.
He couldn't deny the similarities in the two, however, or the similarities in his heart rate in reaction to them: an increase upon sight and a skip upon burn.
Subaru rubbed his throat and relaxed more on the concrete, watching the ledge of the roof without interest as he thought how silly it was to get worked up over a single person. Why should he care what his Kamui thought of him, or what he said to him? The vague inflections in his voice, the minute gestures of his body? Why did it matter whether or not he said good morning or good afternoon, evening, night, or even hello to him first?
The truth of it was, he realized dully, was that he didn't give a damn about his Kamui.
He cared about Fuuma.
There didn't seem to be a clear reason or thought why, but it just seemed to be a fact that Fuuma was more special than anyone else at the moment in Subaru's eyes despite the fact that he didn't quite understand any of it. He suppose he just knew Fuuma was special as he knew Seishirou was special, even as an innocent and awkward teenager.
And that was why it hurt. Had he still been sixteen, that would have been all he knew, but Subaru was an older man of twenty-five, and from experience and observance he knew a great deal more, though his understanding had hardly increased.
Subaru was glad Fuuma had left as he put his hand to his forehead, consciously realizing for the first time that he was falling for him.