The Telling of One Billion Ghost Stories - Side Story
Still no new proper chapter on Ghost Stories this week, with CLAMP's inconvenient cliffhanger hanging over things. In fact, it looks like we'll only be getting one new holic chapter between now and the end of the year, which doesn't give me great faith that anything much will be resolved within the next month. :/ But, as I've mentioned before, I've got a good supply of ideas for side stories in this universe that won't fit into the main plotline - and one of them already written. So consider this a kind of filler, I guess.
The respect Syaoran developed for Kamui and Fuuma didn’t come from their reputations alone. In fact, his first meeting with Kamui was memorable mostly because he nearly sparked a diplomatic incident, the sort that could have gotten their whole camp killed.
Until that day, spreading the weather reports had been a job Doumeki and Kurogane had dealt with, but Kurogane had never had much patience for dealing with Fuuma in person, and it had worn thinner with every visit. In those days, Syaoran had hardly left the camp. Just going far beyond the border used to make him twitchy, but he calmed down gradually as the years passed, until inevitably, his reluctance to leave passed even Kurogane’s reluctance to go. They didn’t really need that reason, it was little more than a routine chore, and there was plenty of sense at trying different camp members at new tasks. However, Kamui himself did not automatically see it that way.
“Where is Kurogane? Is this a visit for reasons other than the ordinary?” he inquired, when the unusual messenger duo had arrived.
“Usual reason. Storm due in tomorrow. He sent us to take care of it,” Doumeki explained, keeping as brief as he could get away with.
“And this is?” prompted Kamui, eying Syaoran, who had looked just about ready to leap on anything that moved since they arrived.
“He’s called Syaoran,” said Doumeki. “He’s been with our camp for a few years.”
“So now Kurogane sends children to deal in his place?” Kamui suggested, unimpressed.
“Oi!” blurted Syaoran.
Doumeki glared at him, but it didn’t have much effect. “Kid needs the experience away from camp.”
“If that were the case, why wouldn’t he accompany the boy himself? Has keeping our goodwill lost value to him?”
“Oi!” said Syaoran again, not taking well to being ignored. “Just what are you trying to say about Kurogane?”
“If he leaves such tasks to his underlings, that he’s a schemer or a coward,” said Kamui.
Those were also the days when, in Syaoran’s limited world experience, Kurogane held a position of respect that not even Fye with all his incomprehensible technological wizardry shared. Syaoran didn’t understand that Kamui had a habit of bitching just for the sake of bitching, or that Doumeki would have been able to end the subject peacefully within a few more exchanges. Such a blatant insult to Kurogane’s reputation did not sit with him at all.
The exchange that followed was over almost as quickly as it happened. Syaoran leapt at Kamui, lightning fast, but the slim young man moved faster. With no more than two blurred motions of his hands, Syaoran had been thrown back again to land flat on his back several paces away.
Doumeki took the one action he could think of that wouldn’t result in them both getting killed - he turned away from Kamui and pointed his own gun at Syraoran’s head. “If you want either of us to leave here alive, don’t get up.”
The boy’s eyes were wide with shock - both at his enemy’s demonstration and his ally’s betrayal, and he didn’t move an inch. When fifteen seconds had passed without either of them collapsing in a spray of blood, Doumeki let himself turn around again, slowly.
Kamui looked angry, but not murderous, which was probably a damn sight better than they deserved after that display.
“Let me apologise for my companion’s behaviour,” said Doumeki, sincerely. “He’s too stupid to know better. We’ll waive the fee for this trip.”
“You’d do well to teach him better manners before he gets you into worse trouble,” said Kamui. His posture radiated danger.
“I’ll see to it personally,” Doumeki promised. “Get up,” he told Syaoran. “We’re going.”
For the first twenty minutes of the journey from there to the Tower, Syaoran was silent.
“Shizuka, I’m sorry,” he said at last, hesitantly. “I… nearly got us into a lot of trouble, didn’t I?”
“You nearly got us killed,” said Doumeki. “Kamui is known to kill people for less than what you did today. As soon as we got close to the building, there were sentinels watching us as well. They’re loyal enough to him to attack if they ever suspect he’s under any kind of threat.”
“But… what he said about Kurogane…”
“People like him can say what they like.”
“How does he move that fast?” asked Syaoran, nervously.
“He wasn’t made leader of the Diet Building without reason,” said Doumeki, knowing the answer ‘no-one has any idea’ wouldn’t satisfy Syaoran for a second.
“I’ve never seen anyone move like that before,” Syaoran admitted, near breathlessly.
“Fuuma of the Tower is reputed to be an even match for him.”
“The Tower - where we’re going next?”
“Right.”
When they got there, both Fuuma and Syaoran were much better behaved.
The respect Syaoran developed for Kamui and Fuuma didn’t come from their reputations alone. In fact, his first meeting with Kamui was memorable mostly because he nearly sparked a diplomatic incident, the sort that could have gotten their whole camp killed.
Until that day, spreading the weather reports had been a job Doumeki and Kurogane had dealt with, but Kurogane had never had much patience for dealing with Fuuma in person, and it had worn thinner with every visit. In those days, Syaoran had hardly left the camp. Just going far beyond the border used to make him twitchy, but he calmed down gradually as the years passed, until inevitably, his reluctance to leave passed even Kurogane’s reluctance to go. They didn’t really need that reason, it was little more than a routine chore, and there was plenty of sense at trying different camp members at new tasks. However, Kamui himself did not automatically see it that way.
“Where is Kurogane? Is this a visit for reasons other than the ordinary?” he inquired, when the unusual messenger duo had arrived.
“Usual reason. Storm due in tomorrow. He sent us to take care of it,” Doumeki explained, keeping as brief as he could get away with.
“And this is?” prompted Kamui, eying Syaoran, who had looked just about ready to leap on anything that moved since they arrived.
“He’s called Syaoran,” said Doumeki. “He’s been with our camp for a few years.”
“So now Kurogane sends children to deal in his place?” Kamui suggested, unimpressed.
“Oi!” blurted Syaoran.
Doumeki glared at him, but it didn’t have much effect. “Kid needs the experience away from camp.”
“If that were the case, why wouldn’t he accompany the boy himself? Has keeping our goodwill lost value to him?”
“Oi!” said Syaoran again, not taking well to being ignored. “Just what are you trying to say about Kurogane?”
“If he leaves such tasks to his underlings, that he’s a schemer or a coward,” said Kamui.
Those were also the days when, in Syaoran’s limited world experience, Kurogane held a position of respect that not even Fye with all his incomprehensible technological wizardry shared. Syaoran didn’t understand that Kamui had a habit of bitching just for the sake of bitching, or that Doumeki would have been able to end the subject peacefully within a few more exchanges. Such a blatant insult to Kurogane’s reputation did not sit with him at all.
The exchange that followed was over almost as quickly as it happened. Syaoran leapt at Kamui, lightning fast, but the slim young man moved faster. With no more than two blurred motions of his hands, Syaoran had been thrown back again to land flat on his back several paces away.
Doumeki took the one action he could think of that wouldn’t result in them both getting killed - he turned away from Kamui and pointed his own gun at Syraoran’s head. “If you want either of us to leave here alive, don’t get up.”
The boy’s eyes were wide with shock - both at his enemy’s demonstration and his ally’s betrayal, and he didn’t move an inch. When fifteen seconds had passed without either of them collapsing in a spray of blood, Doumeki let himself turn around again, slowly.
Kamui looked angry, but not murderous, which was probably a damn sight better than they deserved after that display.
“Let me apologise for my companion’s behaviour,” said Doumeki, sincerely. “He’s too stupid to know better. We’ll waive the fee for this trip.”
“You’d do well to teach him better manners before he gets you into worse trouble,” said Kamui. His posture radiated danger.
“I’ll see to it personally,” Doumeki promised. “Get up,” he told Syaoran. “We’re going.”
For the first twenty minutes of the journey from there to the Tower, Syaoran was silent.
“Shizuka, I’m sorry,” he said at last, hesitantly. “I… nearly got us into a lot of trouble, didn’t I?”
“You nearly got us killed,” said Doumeki. “Kamui is known to kill people for less than what you did today. As soon as we got close to the building, there were sentinels watching us as well. They’re loyal enough to him to attack if they ever suspect he’s under any kind of threat.”
“But… what he said about Kurogane…”
“People like him can say what they like.”
“How does he move that fast?” asked Syaoran, nervously.
“He wasn’t made leader of the Diet Building without reason,” said Doumeki, knowing the answer ‘no-one has any idea’ wouldn’t satisfy Syaoran for a second.
“I’ve never seen anyone move like that before,” Syaoran admitted, near breathlessly.
“Fuuma of the Tower is reputed to be an even match for him.”
“The Tower - where we’re going next?”
“Right.”
When they got there, both Fuuma and Syaoran were much better behaved.