[ Watashi ]

[ Tomodachi ]

[ Saint Seiya ]

[ Clamp ]

[ Fanfiction ]

"Don't you just love Golden Week?" Spreading his arms wide as if to embrace our surroundings, Sho twirled once. A grin was splitting his face, which made him look as comically happy as he sounded. "All this space, all this silence, just for us!"

Smiling despite myself, I gave him a nod. It was hard to resist such lively enthusiasm, and the weather wasn't helping: the sun was at its zenith, sole ruler of a sky free from even the smallest cloud. Besides, Sho was right: Golden Week was a time of reprieve from Tokyo's insanity. People left the city to go on much-needed holidays, and a hush came over the megalopolis. It was as if silence rediscovered itself all of a sudden and groped about, barely able to remember its name. It was a time to enjoy every moment of, for it was way too short. It had prompted Sho to decree we'd have lunch outside, and that I'd have to manage to get myself to the university before noon. There had been no gainsaying him.

On our left, several claps rang clearly in the air and I pivoted, hoping to catch a sight of the sparkling arches made by some koi winning free of the waters' cold embrace. All I saw were ripples in the great ponds: I had been too slow, and the rotten fishes had dived back to the murky depths that were their home. Releasing my breath in a small sigh, I resisted the temptation to lean my arms upon the bridge's railing and stop there for a while. The sun's warmth was a gentle one, and it would have lulled me into a deep sense of well-being in a matter of minutes--but Sho had almost reached the other side, never mind pausing--hungry and intent on gobbling up his lunch, most likely. So I pushed away from the railing, and made to follow him.

Shadow.

A shadow was waiting, twenty steps from me.

A protective shadow, which shielded human beings from the rays of the sun and had already enveloped Sho. Its edges were so finely drawn on the bridge's wood that it seemed to have been chiseled in it. Looking up, I stared at the grove of great trees that had given birth to the beautiful shadow, and felt cold spread inside my stomach.

"Na-kun?" It was Sho, and gods he had already been swallowed by the shadow--he had stepped beneath the great sakuras' canopy of leaves and branches. The trees were in full bloom still, magnificent, and-- "Na-kun?" Somehow, the sound of Sho's voice won through the frantic beatings of my heart, and the hint of anxiety tainting it registered in my brain.

"Not there," I managed in what was little more than a croak. My throat was dry, and talking was surprisingly difficult. Focusing on words, I added, "Come back, and let's have lunch by the gingkos if you would." For a moment he just stood there, cloaked in shadow and his back to the grove of trees, and I thought I'd have to go get him before the not-quite human assassin who claimed to have the right of life and death on that ground turned his bored, lifeless gaze on him. "Come back," I murmured, "please."

At last, Inoguchi Shousuke did move, and retraced his steps. "Is it a westerner thing, this unseemly habit for last minute changes?" he asked me as he reached my side. There was a sigh in the question, and a faint trace of irritation as well. "Or are you just more whimsical than most reasonable folks have a right to be?"

"Neither." I took hold of his left sleeve, and dragged him along. "Let's go," I told him between clenched teeth, while behind us the shadow started swinging gently, mimicking the lazy swaying of the sakuras' leaves and branches as they rustled with a light breeze that might have been laughter.

On my right, Sho gave me a look, then he shrugged and allowed me to pull him away from Ueno Park.

It took us less than twenty minutes to cross over Shinobazu Pond, walk past the Yokoyama Taikan Memorial Gallery and eventually reach the Yasuda Auditorium. During the whole time, Sho held his peace, perhaps unwilling to start an argument, or simply fed up with gaijin weirdness. It was unimportant. We had come away from Ueno Park. He had come away. I'd find a way to apologize to him later. Right now, what mattered was that he was safe, and that the cold sensation churning my guts was almost gone.

Drawing in a shaking breath, I lifted up my head and focused on the feeling of heat splashing over my skin. The sun was fire, and fire burnt, but that was all right with me. Stretching the fingers of both hands, I opened my eyes and walked down the alley guarded by Hongo University's famous gingkos. While I denied the dark spots dancing before my eyes, I thought to myself that their fame was well deserved. At the third of the way, I came to a halt and pointed to one of the oldest trees. "What do you think of that one?" I asked Sho.

At first, the only answer I got was a noncommittal shrug. Then my friend hissed out a sigh, and said in a grudging voice, "It'll do, I guess." Glancing at me, he added, "And I suppose we won't be bothered in the middle of our lunch, since academic and security personnel will recognize me and shy away from addressing reproaches to a young professor who happens to be the son of a faculty dean--no matter that university rules should apply to everyone without exception." Irony was dripping from his words. Unwilling to confront him, I bowed my head and bit my lower lip. "All right." A powerful slap on my right shoulder made me stumble forward. "Let's break some rules and embarrass my father, since you must have lunch under a gingko!"

The grass was soft beneath the palm of my right hand. As I sat down, I stared up at the tree's high branches. Its shade was safe--felt safe, felt like it belonged to the day and to the world of the living. There was no darkness to it, no secret ghost hiding within its folds. "A peine le temps de croire en moi," I sang softly, "pas le temps de croire en Dieu." I blinked as a weight started lifting from my heart and slid its slow, slow way down into oblivion. "Et me lasser de cette vie-là, je sais pas si je peux." Unbidden, the lyrics had risen from a cupboard in my mind and had demanded I release them into sounds, using the poor, crude pitch of my voice. "Je sais pas si je peux."

"Another song from this singer you mentioned once?" Sho was looking at me, his face lined with concern.

"'J'arrive'," I nodded, and bowed my head. "It tells of taking leave of all the little things that shape our lives, and of arriving on the other shore--of dying, and of the deep love for life that burns in all of us." I had managed to make Sho worry about me, and I didn't want that. I had no need for that. What I wanted was for him to be safe, and the grove of sakura trees in Ueno Park--was the cold, impossibly cold river that marked the border of the world of the dead.

"A difficult theme," Sho said softly beside me. "She must be brave, this singer of yours, to dare pour her heart into the shaping of such a song." For a while there was silence, which Sho broke with a faint snort. "Enough with gloom and anger, and western irrationality." When I lifted up my head to face him, I saw he was smiling. "At least your brining up this singer again served to remind me I had something to tell you. I looked up the other song, and you had the lyrics wrong. They say: 'tous les espoirs sont permis,' not 'tous les coups sont permis.' It's not about tricks and trickery at all, but about hope and keeping on hoping. An amusing mistake to make," he chuckled.

"Heh." I blinked, and then gave a shrug. "A slip of the tongue, but fortunately not one of the Freudian kind," I replied with a smile tugging at my lips.

"Yeah, well, maybe." He pursed his lips. "There must be times when a slip of the tongue is nothing more than a slip of the tongue, even for westerners I guess. But Freudian ones tend to be funnier. You should apply yourself to make more of those." There was a mischievous glint in Sho's dark eyes, and it seemed the heaviness in the atmosphere was gone at last. "Let's eat," my friend said, proceeding to open a rather cute lunch box which was more than likely to contain a delicious bento.

Feigning to focus on unfolding the paper around the stuffed piece of bread I had gotten from one of the university's automatic vending machines, I spied Sho from the corner of an eye. Sure enough, the box once opened revealed a bento whose sight made my mouth water in envy. "Shinju's?" I asked in my most innocent voice.

Sho's chopsticks, which had been greedily diving toward a wonderful bit of fried prawn, froze while their owner coughed and then cleared his throat. "Yes." A faint blush had colored his cheeks.

Swallowing back the laughter bubbling up my throat, I stared at him. "Why," I said, surprise seeping in my tone, "couldn't this be considered as a piece of evidence in a matter of pupil seduction? I thought the university frowned upon such matters, even when the pupil is a PHD candidate in her last year of research."

Unstoppable, laughter burst from me even as his eyes widened and as the blush on his cheeks started looking like a very bad case of sunburn. "All right, you bastard," he growled, "what's your silence worth?"

I made a show of thinking it over, then pointed to the bento's royal piece. "A simple fried prawn will do nicely." I grinned at him.

"You--" he exclaimed, then his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Okay, take it and be done, swindler!"

At once, I bent down over his meal and complied. "Fantastic," I commented once I was done, licking at my fingertips. "I had no idea Shinju was such a talented cook."

"Well, she is," Sho retorted tartly. "And you're nothing but a gluttonous gaijin. A stomach that walks on two legs!" With that, he started eating his lunch, stealing a glance toward me every once in a while to make sure I intended no other foray into his bento box. I could have told him he had nothing more to fear from me, but he wouldn't have believed me. So I busied myself with my own, much less appetizing lunch, and left him to ponder the price you paid when you came parading with a bento box under the nose of someone who had only junk food for a meal.

"Na-kun," Sho said as he set his lunch box on the grass, then he paused. Swinging my body back from its previous bent-over-sandwich position, I looked at him while crushing the wrapping paper of my meal into a small ball I stuffed into a pocket of my jeans. With luck, I wouldn't forget all about it and would remember to throw it in a waste basket as soon as I stepped past one. On my left, Sho was studying the grass spreading before him with intense fascination. Focusing on him, I wondered what was going on. Was he about to tell me Shinju and he were engaged? At last, he heaved out a faint sigh, and stared up at me. "What's wrong?"

My heart skipped a beat, and for a fraction of a second I thought I had misheard him--but the light in his eyes was a very earnest one, and the lines that meant concern were again creasing his brow. Before I could tell him everything was okay, he made a brisk, halting gesture of the right hand. "Don't try to deny it, please," he shook his head. "You've changed, ever since you went to retrieve the books from Ran--since you went to the Sumeragi mansion. Did something happen there?"

He meant for me to answer yes. Instead, I shrugged one shoulder. "She was late. She gave me the books and told me how she had decided to give up on attempting to exorcise the Sunshine 60 building, as you know. I thought the Sumeragi mansion was a wonderful place, a haven away from the craziness of this megalopolis we live in."

An unhappy chuckle met my quiet reply. "And yet, for all the peace and beauty of Ran's place, you came back different," he said softly. "And it has grown with the passing of time. Darker. More somber. Spooked, that's how you feel to me, and I can't help but worry. I know you, I know your thick-headedness and the strength of your will, and I can't believe a visit to the Sumeragi mansion could ever upset you so."

"Sho, it didn't," I began.

"The grove of sakura trees in Ueno Park was no danger to us," Sho interrupted me, his eyes set on me. Knowing. "Is no danger to us or anyone in daylight. It's only in the dead of night, when a hush comes over it, that it can be dangerous, and then only for those who bear the assassin's mark."

My jaw set, I tried not to react. I tried not to tense, I tried to let the sensation of the grass beneath me and of the great gingko behind me fill my being--and failed. The muscles in my shoulders and back were so taut that they hurt. "This," Sho went on in a quiet whisper, "I know because I am the head of the research department in Japanese ethnology. Because Sumeragi Ran is one of my dearest friends, and because she spent a whole night of the year 1999 weeping in my arms, her heart shattered by grief. It was the night she became the new head of the Sumeragi clan, and she was so drunk, so..." Sho bowed his head while adding, "so unmade--snuffed out, that she blurted out one of the Sumeragi's most closely guarded secrets. I'm her friend; she knew I had researched her family, and thus that I was likely aware of many things. But you...." A loud sigh escaped him. "You seem to share this secret, even though your grasp of it is flawed."

There was no time to consider Sho's stunning revelation, no time to weigh his words against the reality of the nameless assassin I had met in the night--no time to wonder what this frightful shadow's ties with the Sumeragi clan might be. There was time only to shape words and tell Sho as much of the truth as I could. "I don't share any secret of the Sumeragi." With a faint snort and a shake of the head, I went on, "What I might perhaps share with them is a curse named intuition--and I wandered in Ueno Park late at night once. Much too late." I shivered in remembrance.

After a long, uncomfortable moment of silence, Sho nodded. "That at least has the ring of truth."

"It's the truth, Sho!" I retorted at once, and I wondered if he could hear the plea in my voice. "I swear. I wish--" In a sharp, brusque motion I turned away from him and stared at the gingkos on the other side of the alley. Almost, I had told my friend I wished with all my heart that I could go back to the Sumeragi mansion, back to the gardens. Back to the hidden pavilion at their heart, shielded by high, invincible walls of morning dew.

Back to Sumeragi Shuusuke, to the strange, fey lord of a domain that seemed to be balanced on the edge of the world, bridging the impossible abyss between reality and fantasy--myth, or the Japanese equivalent of Faerie.

"Hush." Sho's voice seemed to come from the other end of the universe, as did the light touch of his hand on my right shoulder. "I believe you. There's no need to say anything else. I breached a difficult subject, I'm sorry."

Wordlessly I nodded, eyes still set on the trees in front of us. The lump in my throat was unbearable--that and the weight crushing my chest. Yet, there was nothing other to do than to deal with them.

To deal with the seeds of madness within.

To deal with the blurred shapes of the gingkos which my eyes couldn't bring into focus, and then wipe the wetness on my cheeks with the back of my left hand.

"Oh, stop that!" Benedict snapped from his desk on my left. It took me a moment to realize I was the one the angry words had been aimed at. For a few seconds I sustained his baleful glare, then I blinked. Light taps was resounding in the lab room, weak vibrations coursing through the grain of my wooden desk, and-- Lifting up my left hand, I gave it a look. "Yeah," Benedict grunted, "that. Shit, stop fidgeting like an adolescent before his first date, man!"

With a shrug, I nodded at him. "Sorry. I hadn't realized." Which was the truth, for once. There was nothing I enjoyed more than pissing off Benedict, but this time there hadn't been anything behind my maddening, mindless gesture.

"Obviously!" the German snorted. Sitting back in his chair, he reached up and pressed thumb and middle finger against his brow, right above the eyebrows. For a few seconds he closed his eyes, then he let out a sigh. "Working with a flaky server and an even flakier network is hard enough without you starting a drums solo next to me. Damn you, Ayné, when will you learn to deal with deadlines?"

In front of me, the prompt of the transfer application I used to retrieve data for my simulations kept blinking, as if perpetually bothered by flies or tiny wasps, but the hourglass shape of the mouse pointer belied the apparent readiness of the program to behave itself. Silence followed Benedict's ludicrous question. Silence, which the other two researchers present in the lab room draped around themselves, knowing better than to meddle in the constant bickering between us. A humorless smile tugged at my lips, reflected in the monitor before me. "When I agree with them, Benedict. When my opinion is taken into consideration." A short burst of laughter echoed on my left before I could continue.

"Not likely to happen." There was a hint of bitterness in Benedict's voice. "So, get over it, why don't you?"

"As if it was that easy! I--" I clamped my jaw shut and slumped in my chair, staring at my thighs without seeing them. It was a mistake to continue this pointless discussion. I knew it, and Benedict knew it as well. But we were both working on too few hours of sleep and our tempers were short--the more so since the air conditioning system had decided to function on random mode on our floor of the Institute. Summer had come, and with it stuffy heat as well as rain. It had started at the end of June, somewhat late, but it was making up for the delay with extra heat and humidity.

And the air conditioning system suffered from fits of hiccups.

Long, big hiccups.

"It's that easy," Benedict countered, unwilling to let the matter rest. "There's nothing you can do, is there? The model's hindcasting side works, doesn't it? You've given them all the warnings and cautionary notices you could think of, haven't you?" The smile of my reflection in the monitor widened, twisted with sarcasm. "Well, haven't you?"

"Yeah," I replied, focusing on the hourglass flickering over the window of my data transfer application. "Yeah," I hissed air out of my lungs, "I have. I told them the only use it could perhaps have was to predict blurry areas and windows of time during which there'd be a higher probability of freak wave occurrence--never that this or that region would be safe. I told them the model needed at least another two years of testing, so we can observe what happens when we run it against a real El Nino." I gave a shrug. "But still--"

"They'll do what they want with it," Benedict cut me off with a shrug of his own, a much bigger one than mine had been. "That's life," he added. "Grow up and cope with it."

For the time of a heartbeat, an image flashed inside my mind, of my stomping down upon a bloodied Benedict, but I no longer was a fifteen years old with the convenient excuse they called adolescence. So, instead of standing up and getting ready for a good brawl, I stared at my computer monitor, opened a chat window and joined #occult. Perhaps Sho would be there, and Shinju, and I could take my mind off Benedict and the UNO administration's unrealistic deadlines for a while.

Nanashi!

Where were you all morning?

Unable to help myself, I grinned at the chat window. They were there indeed. Working, I typed back, unlike lucky bastards employed by a section of the university whose name I shall keep a secret out of compassion.

I wish you'd tell us. I'd make sure to apply, because here future PHDs are used as slave labor! That was Shinju, hoping to trigger a response from Sho, who of course held his peace and waited. Spoilsport! Shinju sent at last, with a very much weeping smiley.

That's me, Sho replied at once, then: Na-kun, did you get the package? Sunday is a mere three days away...

Sigh, I typed while heaving out a real one. I got the notice yesterday evening. I'll drop by the EMS office after work today. It's there, never fear. Two pounds of Marcolini pralines straight from Belgium, a royal gift for your Sumeragi-sama.

All three of us had been invited to spend the afternoon and evening of the coming Sunday at the Sumeragi mansion. Some kind of payment for Sho's help in matters given in the care of the Sumeragi clan head. Neither Shinju nor I knew what it was about, but Sho did and was very much smug about the whole thing, taunting Shinju all the time and dangling the phrase "fascinating case, one that you'd die to be involved in" before her with every opportunity he got. Just why the price for his help had turned out to be an invitation to the Sumeragi mansion was a mystery to me, even though I suspected it might have something to do with our discussion about the grove of sakura trees during Golden Week. True, Sho had never again mentioned it, but--

Phone, I sent even as the damn thing started ringing beside me, sorry. I'll get back to you laetr.

Cursing under my breath when I noticed the horrible typo I had made, I picked up the phone. "Yes?"

"Ayné-sensei," came the all too perfectly pitched voice of Sato Minami in my left ear. So, it came from the central desk. Who could call from the New York bureau at this time? "Your mother is on line and would--"

"No." The flat, cold word silenced the secretary on the other end of the line. "No." Drawing air into my lungs, I willed the bullet of ice that had just exploded in my guts to disappear. "It's not my mother," I went on calmly. Reasonably. "It's a stalker, Minami-san. Did I not mention I never wanted any private calls forwarded to me in this office?"

There was a short moment of embarrassed silence. Then: "My apologies, sensei. The call came through our office in Paris, so I thought--"

Shit.

Again.

"You thought wrong." Somehow, I managed to keep my voice toneless. Deep inside my mind, a small voice was rising in alarm, telling me I was pushing and making Sato Minami an enemy. That was a mistake, but right now I couldn't bring myself to care. "I do not want any calls forwarded here, unless they come from someone within the UNO administration. No matter who they're from. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sensei. Perfectly clear. Again, my humblest apologies." With that, she ended the conversation. For a moment, I kept the receiver in my hand. Then, once I was sure I'd manage to set it back in place without trembling or smashing it, I did so.

"Wow! You're angry!" Benedict drolled on my left. Even as I turned to tell him to mind his fucking business, another phone rang. Thanks to a desperate effort of will, I didn't jump up from my chair. Behind me, Kikuchi Kazuo picked up his phone while I sat back in my chair, staring at the ceiling and heaving out a deep, loud sigh.

Gods, how had she managed it?

Why wouldn't she stop?

Why wouldn't she let me be?

I wanted nothing to do with her ever again. Shrinks had told me numerous times how it wasn't her fault, how she couldn't help herself. They had told me that no matter what she did, she was my mother, and that in her own twisted, warped way, she was only trying to protect me with all she had.

Protect me.

She was a hole in my soul.

A void.

An emptiness such as the monster children feared was crawling under their beds come night and darkness.

"Tell me it's a joke!" The loud, furious exclamation intruded into my gloomy reminiscence, and I grabbed at the chain of sounds, holding on to them to win free of the decaying swamp they called memories. Benedict had whirled around, and he was busy challenging Kikuchi Kazuo. The smaller, frail Japanese man bowed his head. That wouldn't save him from the German's wrath, but at least he'd be spared the sight of Benedict's tall and bulky frame towering over him.

"Unfortunately it's not," Kikuchi Kazuo replied in a faint whisper, apparently fascinated by the sight of his shoes. "The MIT won't receive the latest batch of data before tomorrow earliest. It seems there's been a problem with satellite communications."

"A problem with the satellites, my ass!" Benedict spat, even more furious. "What do they want to erase from the data this time? Is it the pictures? Do they show one of their nuclear submarines surfacing in the Bering Straits? Do they reveal stains in the ocean, close to an atoll they use for nuclear testing?" With a sharp shake of the head, he sat back in his chair, and again faced his desk. "Shit," a lopsided smile twisted the corners of his mouth, "you'd think they'd learn and stop. You'd think they'd end up eventually realizing that the cold war has been over for more than three decades!"

Nobody said anything. For a long, awkward while, silence claimed the research lab. There was more Benedict would have said, I knew, about how the priorities of the American government were madness in his eyes--about how the vaults of money lavished on the military should be given instead to environmental programs and to last hope projects that might perhaps save the natural balance of the world. Perhaps. I couldn't say I disagreed with him, on the opposite, but anger served no purpose except fuel a debilitating feeling of frustration and impotence.

"So," I said at last, "basically it means we're stuck until tomorrow. We might as well go home."

"Yeah," Benedict chuckled, an unhappy sound that quickly sank into the walls around us. "It must be your day, what with the deadline and all!" he added, glancing at me. "Maybe you should try your luck at the lottery."

"Maybe," I gave a noncommittal shrug, then I turned off my computer. The transfer program died on my third attempt to kill it, its connection to the Massachusetts frozen somewhere in a chaotic flow of electrons. It wasn't noon yet, and--luck.

Luck.

After all, why not?

"Benedict, I looked at him while standing up, "did you ever manage to get your lazy ass to the Kannonsama as I told you to do when I arrived here?"

"Huh?" the other gave me a blank stare, then his eyes registered understanding. "No, but what's that got to do with our current situation?"

"Nothing. Everything." I smirked. "Coming?"

"What?" The dumbfounded expression on his face was priceless. "All the way to Asakusa? Now?"

"Can you think of a better time?" I retorted with an easy smile.

He blinked at that. "You're crazy." But, as human randomness goes, he followed me when I exited the room. Bored, or perhaps even curious.

Red, white and brown and black and blue. Yellow and grey, bright or dark, collided inside my mind even as a draught of humidity-filled air flapped my sleeves, carrying with it a low concert of voices emanating from the crowd surrounding us. Moving through so many people was rather unpleasant, but there wasn't much help for that. Benedict and I were walking down Nakamise, and the ever popular shopping street leading to our destination was always packed with people. Taking a quick glance to my right, I froze in my steps when I realized that Benedict had vanished.

"Excuse me." I gave the woman who had just bumped into me an absentminded bow, scanning the rolling tide of men and women for a sight of the blighted German.

A crown of red hair, a good head above the crowd.

There.

Drawing in a breath, I dived down the flow of people and made my way upstream, delivering empty words of apology each time my knee knocked a shopping bag or I shouldered a busy man who hadn't noticed a fool was attempting to go counter the crowd's current.

"Hell, you could at least tell me you're stopping," I mumbled under my breath as I joined Benedict's side in front of a souvenir shop. "What's gotten into you?"

Lifting his right hand, the German pointed a forefinger toward one among scores of small cat statues with their left paw raised toward the sky, as if to salute the customers. "That," he replied, a quirk on his lips.

For about five seconds I stared at the white cat statue, unblinking, then I pivoted toward my companion. "And? Don't tell me you want to buy one!"

A wide, guileless smile came to his lips, belied by the shrewd light in his eyes. "Why not? Aren't they supposed to bring good luck?"

"They are," I heaved out a sigh, eyeing the shopkeeper who seemed to have decided to wait until the towering gaijin was done choosing before intervening. Wise man. "Since when do you go with superstitions?"

A loud guffaw of laughter shook Benedict's massive shoulders. "I don't! It's not for me. I thought," he added with a sly glance my way, "that you could do with a boost of good luck today."

I took a step forward and reached up, taking one of the cat statues in my hand. "Buy this," I told Benedict in a quiet, pleasant voice, "and I'll break it over your thick German skull on the spot."

"Jeez, lighten up, man!" Benedict rolled his eyes heavenward. "No need to be so tense; a deadline isn't the end of the world."

With a careful gesture, I put the cat back on its spot. The shopkeeper still hadn't decided to worry about his two weird customers. Good. "Are you telling me I'm wrong to take the matter seriously?" Scorn and contempt had twisted the lines of my mouth. Silence was my only answer. Puzzled, I turned around in time to see Benedict reach out and reclaim the statue.

"I'm saying it shouldn't put such stress on you," he said at last while staring into the cat's yellow slanted eyes. "Not to the point where you make up stalker stories in order to vent your anger on Sato-san."

A croak of laughter rose between us. Benedict gave me a look, but I ignored him. "Gods!" I hissed. Then, facing Benedict, I held his gaze with mine and smiled. "It was a stalker, Benedict. A real, honest to god stalker, complete with a court order forbidding her to attempt to contact me or to come within a full mile of me. Of course," I shrugged, "it's only valid in the EU. The stalker is my mother, if you must know." Something flickered in the German's eyes and he took a step back, but I went on, "She's quite mad. What time she doesn't spend locked away in a mental institution, she spends trying to reach me with every one of the considerable means at her disposal. The last time I saw her, I was thirteen, and she broke my right hip while attempting to kill me."

To his credit, Benedict didn't flinch, he didn't try to wrench his gaze from mine. "I'm sorry." The faint whisper hang between us for a while, then I retrieved the cat from his hands and put it back in its proper place.

"Let's go," I nodded at him. "We don't have all day, and besides you didn't bring an umbrella along, did you?" With a sharp motion, Benedict jerked his head up and took one good, long look at the dark grey sky above us.

Low.

Threatening.

"I'd offer you a spot under mine," I told him sweetly, "but." Laughter, unbidden, crept up my throat when I saw the big man shudder in disgust. "My sentiment exactly," I finished. "So, let's get going." From the look of them, those heavy clouds might perhaps wait another hour before spilling their share of rain over this part of Tokyo, but not much more.

While we waded through the crowd, I noticed Benedict's eyes darting left and right. Just as I was about to wonder aloud about what could spook him so, a derisive snort escaped him. "Temple merchants." The expression on his face had nothing nice or good-humored about it. "If I had known you'd be dragging me to the local equivalent of Lourdes--" he gave a shake of the head.

"You're being unfair," I smiled at him while avoiding a collision with a group of highschool students in full uniform--most likely a field trip. "This isn't Catholicism we're talking about, it's not a religion whose dogma include the rejection of idols and good luck charms--or embracing poverty. We're talking about Shinto and the Japanese version of Buddhism. Spirits, charms, godlings and animism...I'd say Nakamise is a much truer place than any spot close to a Catholic location of worship, the Vatican and Jerusalem included."

"Yeah, maybe," Benedict conceded in a gruff voice. Then: "Since when do you defend Buddhism and Shintoism as if you were a follower of those belief systems?"

"Hey!" Hands grasped my right shoulder and shoved me aside when I stumbled and hit a nasty-looking highschool student. "Watch your step, moron!"

"Sorry." I blinked, realizing the word had left my mouth on instinct. Whirling around, I stared at the flow of people, but the adolescent had already disappeared into the crowd.

"Ah," Benedict sniggered. "Bad-ass teenagers. My favorite thing in Tokyo!"

"You read too many shounen manga in your youth," I told him.

"Still read them." The grin splitting Benedict's face was a very wide one. Then, in the blink of an eye, he sobered up and looked once again at our surroundings. "This year is the seventy-fifth anniversary of Hiroshima," he murmured, barely audible above the crowd's rumble, "we intend to stage a march starting from here and linking all the great shrines of Tokyo together."

Greenpeace, he meant, or at least the organization's Japanese section. With a small nod to myself, I focused on the approaching Kaminarimon. "That's why you went along with my whim and followed me here," I remarked, not expecting an answer. It was both obvious and logical enough.

"Will you come?"

Benedict's blue eyes were set on me, unreadable. The anniversary of Hiroshima was on August 6th, less than a month from now. "No," I replied, and drew in a breath. "I'm sorry but I'll be very busy that day. Something that's been scheduled for months." The Hiroshima anniversary was a powerful symbol that drew attention from every part of the Japanese society, despite recent attempts by politicians to lure Japan out of the vow of pacifism it had sworn to follow after the end of the war. It was an opportunity too good to let pass.

"Ah well," Benedict shrugged beside me, apparently no longer in the mood to argue, or perhaps perceptive enough to understand that I'd have attended if I had been able to. "Looks like we're here," he pointed toward the gigantic lantern hanging under the main entry gate of the Sensoji temple. "My god, this is huge!"

"Indeed," I chuckled. "Welcome to one of Japan's most famous spots, Kannonsama as the people of Asakusa call it."

Benedict took his time climbing up the stairs leading to the entry gate and beyond, gaping at the sight set before his eyes. I could hardly blame him: the place was impressive, and it exuded a feeling of ancient power and majesty. Focusing on the kanji written in the lantern and engraved in the gate itself, I almost missed the fact that Benedict had stepped past me and was making his way toward the temple proper.

"Whoa!" I called out. "Stop!" Thank to some kind whim of fate, he heard me and I didn't have to shout through the crowd of people. Raising my voice as I had just done had already been enough of a disturbance if I was to go by the reproachful glances thrown my way.

"What's going on?" Benedict raised an eyebrow at me, even as he retraced his steps. "Aren't we entering the place?"

Laughter spilled from me, undeniable. "Not unless you intend to purify yourself first," I indicated a group of wooden basins set aside on the temple's right, each of them flanked by a cup people used to wash their hands before going in to worship, "and then go pray for a while."

"Ah, no," Benedict cleared his throat. "I don't think so."

Of course not. Atheist Benedict Schwarzenschloss would die before praying to anything or anyone--not that I was less of a miscreant in good, righteous people's eyes. Atheists and agnostics were an anomaly where most of humanity was concerned, an oddity at best, and a threat at worst.

After all, what could be more frightening than people who cultivated doubt and constant questioning of the universe they lived in?

"This way," I waved at the German, and led him toward the left side of the shrine. Within less than a minute of walking in the shadow of the great temple, we reached our destination.

"And what's that supposed to be?" Benedict was observing the wall of wooden drawers set before us with wary suspicion. It was set against one of the walls encircling the main temple, below a roof of old grey blue tiles, and a man was waiting next to it, standing behind a counter as if he'd been another seller of souvenirs.

It took me a moment to find some change in my purse. Once I had given the money to the balding priest assigned to the place, I answered, "The oracle. Might as well make sure now is the most auspicious time to play the lottery, right?" I beamed at him.

The only retort I got was a blank stare from Benedict, who watched with his arms folded over his chest while the priest behind the counter made a rather short show of concentrating on invisible things only he was supposedly able to see, and then indicated one of the drawers. Obediently I stepped to the one he had designated, and opened it before taking out the folded sheet of paper that had been waiting inside. "Right." The sound that won past my lips was more a sigh than a word. I lifted my eyes from the symbol painted on the paper and closed my fingers upon the prediction, crumpling it in the process. "So," I waved at Benedict, "what are you waiting for?"

For a moment the tall man just stood there, a dubious look in his eyes, then at last he shrugged and dug some coins out of his pockets. There was the slightest of shifts in the priest's shoulders when Benedict stepped toward him. East, meet West. A smirk twisted my lips. West, this is East. Now, please, behave. As if oblivious to the fact that a gaijin had just requested an augury he most likely would laugh at, the priest again indicated another drawer.

"Well?" Benedict handed me the paper once he had gotten it out of its box.

"Pfeh!" I tossed it back to him after a quick look at it. "Much too good for you," I grunted. "This is actually an auspicious moment for you. So I guess you should really enter the lottery this week."

That triggered a rather loud snicker from him. "I might. Is there a refund in the event I don't win?" That didn't even deserve an answer. "How about yours?" Benedict asked all of a sudden.

"Bad." I gave a shrug while my fingers squeezed the worthless sheet of paper. "As bad as it can get," I added, and stepped over to the great lattice of wood set to our right. Picking a free spot, I tied the augury to it in a careful knot. "There," I nodded once I was done, then I shook my head. "I wish they had a tree instead of this." Benedict gave me a look and, remembering the weary words I had just uttered, I heaved out another sigh. Of course. He had no way to know that bad predictions should be tied to the branches of a tree, and I didn't have the courage to start a lecture on Japanese customs--not that he'd have had the patience to listen. Once he understood I wouldn't elaborate, Benedict gave a shrug and I discarded him from my mind, refocusing on the prediction I had just rejected.

"Don't tell me this oracle of yours comes with an insurance against bad luck foretellings!"

I started. Benedict had joined me, somehow managing to do so in quiet steps that hadn't registered in my brain. He was staring at the wooden lattice upon which were tied scores of sheets of paper like my own.

"But it does." I glanced at him with the beginnings of a real smile tugging at my lips. "We leave them here, and the strands of bad luck are washed away by the gods." Before Benedict could start detailing how ludicrous such superstitions were, a low rumble echoed around us, coming from the North. Wrinkling my nose, I lifted up my head toward the sky. "I smell rain and a truly nice thunderstorm coming." My smile widened to reveal my teeth. "Fast."

"Shit, you're right!" Benedict was also watching the very much clogged heavens, a grimace of disgust twisting the lines of his mouth. "We'd better make our way to a subway station before it starts. I really don't feel like starting this so-called auspicious period of mine soaked through by the rain."

I had to laugh. "Right! Let's go, then." Quickly I checked my watch, and added, "Besides, it's getting late. I need to get to the Ueno offices of EMS and retrieve a packet there before their closing time."

Marcolini chocolate, a delicacy from the other end of the world.

Maybe I'd eat a praline or two before handing it to Sho--payment for my services, it was only fair.

Maybe.

The rhythm of the rain's melody had slowed into a gentle lullaby. It would have sent me straight into a deep slumber, had I been back in my room. Sleep wasn't exactly an option however, not while I was sitting at Sumeragi Ran's table. Sho, Shinju and I had reached the mansion in the Saitama prefecture by the middle of the afternoon, and the rain had started shortly thereafter. Sumeragi Ran had revealed herself to be a more than courteous hostess, if somewhat taciturn. The only moment when cracks had appeared in her finely composed facade had been when Sho had held out to her the box of Marcolini pralines.

A Pitch black box, tied with a single, purple silk thread.

Light had rushed to her eyes like laughter and delight, and there had been no missing the broad smile on her face. Being surprisingly knowledgeable in chocolate matters, she had profusely thanked Sho before turning toward me and bowing lower than I had thought possible. There had been no way to make her stop; none of my flustered reassurances that procuring the Belgian delicacies had been as easy as writing a three lines long e-mail had been enough to convince her it had been no inconvenience at all. Of course, both Shinju and Sho had watched the whole scene with barely suppressed chuckles--giggles even, where Shinju was concerned. Somehow, I had managed to refrain from strangling on the spot the two fools who found my utter embarrassment hilarious.

The end of the afternoon had worn on in inconsequential chatter, considerations on the rain season and on the madness of Tokyo life. Sho had been very careful not to breach the subject of our reason for having been invited here, and Sumeragi Ran had been more than willing to humor him and go along with his little game. On more than a few occasions, I had spied Shinju glaring at Sho in a very threatening fashion, which had had the sole result of pushing the insufferable young man to continue with his charade.

Other than Sumeragi Ran, we hadn't met anyone from the Onmyouji clan. She hadn't mentioned anyone of her family, not even her strange, fey half-brother--even though I doubted she had forgotten how I had stumbled into his domain. Along with an old man and woman whom she had introduced as household servants, she was the only other human being we had seen since our arrival. The weather had made it impossible for us to step outside and admire the mansion's luscious gardens. That had come as a relief, as the lifting of a weight from my shoulders I hadn't even realized was there--a relief mixed with a heaviness deep within, a constriction upon my ribcage.

Opposite sensations.

Opposite polarities.

Absurd.

The constant effort of will required not to prevent my eyes from darting every now and then toward the closed panel behind which lied the gardens had been a strain at first, and then swiftly it had been drowned by the rain's hypnotic music. Evening had come, and with it a fantastic meal of delicate Japanese dishes, most of which I have never tasted, even in pricey restaurants in Tokyo.

As one of the old servants left the room to fetch some tea, Sumeragi Ran stood up in a lithe motion and stepped over to the panel separating us from the outside. Reaching out, she slid it ajar, and I saw a smile curl up the right corner of her mouth. "As I thought, the rain has abated. Come," she turned toward us and gestured for us to join her while sliding the panel fully open, "I think you'll like this."

At once, Shinju and Sho did as she requested, but I took the time to reach for my cup of sake and empty it in a long swallow. Liquid warmth, gentle and sweet, spread inside me but couldn't eclipse the faint, almost unreal blanket of cold that had enfolded my spine. Releasing my breath in a slightly shaking sigh, I stood up, and walked to the edge of the room.

To the threshold of night.

For a fraction of a second, all I saw was blackness, then a gust of wind twirled past us, rustling the trees' leaves and waltzing with their branches. Then I saw them.

Shapes clearly outlined, darker than dark. Trees, and hills, and mountains in the distance. Lightning flashed above us, revealing an ocean of fast swirling clouds, and thunder rumbled. Low. Far away. Close. Woven with something inside me. Echoing within.

Shadows.

There wasn't the smallest trace of the sake's warmth left in me. What was laid before my eyes was a realm of shadows, alive and aware of the pitiful beings standing upon their shore. On instinct, I reached out to the fragile panel that had shielded the room until Sumeragi Ran had decided to offer it and us to the shadows waiting outside.

"The storm has moved to the mountains." Whirling around, I found the head of the Sumeragi clan watching me. "It won't come back here, even if the feeling of its power lingers in the night. It's a frightening, alien thing to feel inside one's bones. But," she nodded, "it cannot harm anyone or anything in this house."

She hadn't joined Sho and Shinju to the very edge of the terrace. I had thought she'd accompany them, but she had remained behind, perhaps to offer them a bit of privacy, or-- Hissing air through clenched teeth, I clutched my right arm with the left hand and squeezed it hard, willing the abrupt tension in my shoulder to vanish. The strange ring of her words, their echo of the insane sensations roving inside me were just a manifestation of my overactive imagination. A way for my mind to materialize the stress of the recent days. Nothing more.

"Ayné-san." Almost imperceptibly I started, then I focused on our hostess for the evening. Sumeragi Ran's dark eyes was staring at me steadily. "There is..." she heaved out a sigh and looked out into the night for a moment. Then she bowed her head, and looked straight at me once more. "There is no easy or elegant way to say this." With a dismissive wave of the left hand, she added, "Two days ago, I was contacted by the ministry of Foreign Affairs. They received an urgent request concerning the protection of a citizen in mortal danger, but somehow they found it a very embarrassing burden they wanted to get rid of as fast as they could. The Sumeragi don't meddle in matters tied to the mundane world; our duty is to the spiritual balance of Japan, nothing else. Still, here...." She let her voice fade into silence, and again turned her gaze toward the realm of shadows lying beyond the terrace. A bitter smile twisted her lips when she resumed, "Ichinomiya isn't a name I can ignore."

Again.

Oh gods, again.

The pressure of my fingers upon my right arm became so brutal the pain tumbled down to my fingertips and engulfed my shoulder. There would be bruises, but that was unimportant. What mattered was for my heart to stop its frantic hammering inside my chest, and for air to reach my lungs, even if the sensation of each breath crawling up and down my throat churned my stomach and was well on its way to force it to heave up its contents.

"The last heir to the once powerful Ichinomiya family apparently believes her only son is in mortal peril. Someone inside the ministry seems to have remembered the sounds of that name, which is why they tossed the burden my way." She gave a shake of the head, then went on, "Anyway, the reason why I'm disturbing you with this is that it seems the woman's son is named Nanashi. That name...well, you understand, I--"

"I do," I cut her off in a voice devoid of emotion. The trembling of my body wasn't visible yet, but it would soon be if I was to go by the weak feeling in my knees and the emptiness devouring my guts. "I understand perfectly, Sumeragi-san." Ignoring the drums of my heartbeats, I made myself sustain her steady gaze. "It's an amusing coincidence. I never thought another family would be gifted with the same bad sense of humor as my parents when they named me this way." The smile frozen on my lips might not be enough to fool Sumeragi Ran, but it was all I could manage right now. "I'm sorry, but I'm not the Nanashi they told you about. You see," with a furious effort of will, I refrained from reaching out to the shadows washing out on the terrace in black, silent waves, and went on, "there's no way my mother could have contacted anyone in the ministry of Foreign Affairs. It's been more than fifteen years since her only stable place of residence has been a semi-closed psychiatric hospital in the vicinity of Grenoble, at the foot of the French Alps."

The pitch black darkness which had felt sickeningly dangerous mere moments before now held an alluring quality, an overwhelming attraction, but somehow my feet stayed rooted to the wooden floor and I didn't walk out into the night. It wasn't so much the retelling of the truth about Ichinomiya Masami that was tearing at me inside, no. It was the realization that she had again attempted to reach me. That she would keep trying, no matter what.

Until she made it.

Until she again managed to touch me.

Until-- "Forgive me." Sumeragi Ran stepped between me and the domain of shadows beckoning beyond the terrace of her house. The woman's dark brown eyes, patched with spots of green I had never noticed before, were regarding me gravely. "In my blundering around, I have reopened painful wounds."

During a long minute, I just stared back at her, my mind a blank. There was no hidden meaning in her words, they were just a perfectly normal, expected expression of regret considering what I had told her. She didn't suspect anything--anything at all. "Past," I willed my shoulders to lift and then slump into a shrug. "It all happened long ago." I didn't try to mask the sigh in my voice when I said that. "Past, done and gone. Don't worry, Sumeragi-san, there was no way you could have guessed. Besides," I summoned a smile to my lips, "it's old history now."

The answering quirk of her lips wasn't a smile. "I doubt such things can ever become 'old history' as you say. But," she gave me a deep bow, "thank you." At the moment, a slight noise interrupted her, and her gaze set on something behind me. "My thanks, Takashi!" she called after the old man, then she refocused on me. "It seems we've been brought some tea." Then, turning around, she faced the far corner of the terrace where Shinju and Sho were standing, watching the storm embrace the mountains in the distance. "Sho!" The two figures jumped when her clear voice reached them. "Get back here now! I've been more than generous with you in allowing you so much time alone. Poor Ayné-san is almost bored to tears, forced as he is to listen to me!"

Something that might have been laughter crowded my throat when I saw a very much flustered Sho step into the room's lights. Mirth was shining in Shinju's eyes, and relaxed contentment was radiating from her. "Ran," Sho started in a plaintive tone but, without a single word, the Sumeragi head of clan pointed toward the table where steaming cups of tea were waiting, and Sho's shoulders sagged, even as he moved to obey the silent command.

Barely audible slurps and puffs were the only sounds that disturbed the room during a few minutes, while we all drank, burnt our tongues and thus started blowing over the burning hot tea. Shinju glared at Sho every two seconds, until at last the object of her frustration relented. Setting his cup down on the table, Sho nodded. "I guess I can tell you now." In the same time, he threw a glance at Sumeragi Ran, who bobbed her head in ascent, smiling.

"About time," Shinju's irritated mutter glided through the room, and I found myself stifling a chuckle.

"The reason why we're here tonight is because Ran wanted to thank me for helping her out in a case dumped on her by the ministry of the Interior. You see," Sho turned toward Shinju, the smile stretching the lines of his mouth so wide his face must split in two at any moment, "the police is getting so desperate that they've requested the help of the Sumeragi clan in their investigation concerning the now famous Phantom Thief. The very same Phantom Thief who's been haunting Tokyo these last few months."

Shinju's squeal of delight and the loud clap of her hands barely registered in my brain. A clan of exorcists, of eastern magic practitioners, of charlatans requested to assist in a police investigation? Hell, that was laughable, even for traditionalist, respectful of seers, oracles and spirit-worshipping Japan. It didn't make sense. No matter what I thought of Sumeragi Ran, she could be nothing other than a fraud, an expert at sleight-of-hand. There was no such thing as magic, no such thing as spirits haunting every square inch of the Earth. And their Phantom Thief--

"At first," Sumeragi Ran's voice cut short to my chaotic reflections, "I wondered if someone in the police department had taken leave of their senses. But, when I visited some of the places where objects have been stolen, I found it." As if aiming for dramatic effect, she raised her cup of tea to her lips and took a slow, careful sip from it. On my left, Shinju was leaning over the table, her eyes glinting, oblivious to the smug expression on Sho's face in front of her.

"The faintest whiff of spiritual energy lingering in each of those places," Sumeragi Ran resumed, the faint beginnings of a smile on her lips at odds with the low, intent fire in her eyes. "Someone powerful has been at work," she stated in a quiet voice, "someone whose talents allowed him to accomplish all the impossible feats described all over the media." Watching her, I couldn't find anything to deny the feeling in my gut: beyond that smile, she was deadly serious, even though what she was saying was absurd. "So, I enlisted Sho's help, since he has access to the most extensive library on religious rites, occultism, and references to every onmyouji or Shinto-linked families in Tokyo, dating back to the Heian era. Our Phantom Thief is right there," her smile widened to reveal her teeth, "in those piles of books that Sho lent me, and the solution to the riddle he poses is a simple matter of time."

Yes, absurd. That was what it was--what she was. Spiritual energy lingering after the Phantom Thief's visits? Crazy. As crazy as holes in my memory or puddles of emptiness marring the flawless surface of Time.

"Na-kun?" It was Sho. Looking down at him, I realized I had stood up without meaning to.

"I'm feeling a bit hot. Sorry," I bowed at them, "I think I'm going to take a short walk on the terrace. A bit of cool night air will be welcome." That was true enough: it was stuffy hot in the room, all of a sudden.

"I fear my talking of spirits and power has upset the Cartesian mind of Ayné-san," Sumeragi Ran's look toward me was an inquisitive one.

A vague wave of the hand was the only answer I could think of while I strode out on the terrace, praying nobody would follow after me.

They didn't.

In slow, hesitating steps, I made my way to the other end of the terrace in the dark, as far away from the brightly lit room I had just left as I could. There was something irrational in my reaction, I was all too much aware of that. Perhaps it stemmed from being unable to tell Sumeragi Ran how sadly mistaken she was. Perhaps it came from the accumulation of attempts by Ichinomiya Masami to set her clutches on me again. Letting out a shuddering breath, I stared up at the night.

High above, lighting coursed the heavens, stark and cold, as if taken away by the stream of clouds. It was beautiful in its way, and savage. Raw fire swimming in the sky, a prisoner of the clouds, it zigzagged in its struggle to win free, to dive down to the ground and strike the land. On impulse, I walked off the terrace and strode in the direction in which the bolt of lightning had disappeared: toward the mountains which stood blacker than the night.

Toward the garden's heart.

Shit. I froze when another flash of lightning revealed an eerie wall of a thing that wasn't mist. Far above my head, the line of blindingly white light broke and then bounced back. Drawing a sharp, brutal angle, it scampered away in the sea of clouds, as if it had slammed against the barrier of unreal mist and had found it impossible to breach--as if that insubstantial wall of morning dew rose so high to touched the sky and could send lightning fleeing away from it in terror.

No.

Turning away, I brought back against my body the hand that had reached out of its own volition to the invisible boundary separating the heart of the Sumeragi's gardens from the rest of the world. No, I was in no mood for any more weirdness tonight. In truth, it was a mistake to have come here at all, no matter that I had been included in the invitation and that refusing would have embarrassed Sho.

"Tickling someone's wards is an unseemly display of bad manners, you know." A gust of cool wind enveloped me, even as my heart skidded to a halt and then struggled its painful way to resume a somewhat steady rhythm of beating. "Worse," the voice behind me continued, clear and strong, and warm as the sun, "even than that stubborn storm's constant rattling at my door." As if to underline that statement, thunder rumbled above us, faint.

Far away.

Closing my eyes and plugging my ears wouldn't magick him away or rewind Time so I could correct my mistake and prevent myself from stepping into the gardens. So I did the only thing I could do: in a slow motion, I pivoted to face the man whose domain I had unwittingly touched again.

Sumeragi Shuusuke was looking at me through half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile hovering on his lips. "Still," he chuckled, "I'm nowhere near as strict as the rest of my dear family. And besides, we're well-met, Ayné-san. You took your time coming back," he added with a small nod of the head.

In silence, I stared back at him. There was nothing I could tell him. He wasn't making sense. His very presence didn't make sense. The alienness of him, the wall of unreal mist he parted with a negligent gesture of the right hand to come to my side--no, the feeling of him, that tingling sensation sparking the slowly cooling night air around him, nothing of it made sense.

"Shit!" My curse was little more than a hiss. As it rose into the night, I reached out to my jeans' back pocket with a jerking motion, and took out the fucking mobile that I had switched to silent mode upon entering the Sumeragi mansion. "Yeah, what?" I spat, recognizing Benedict's cell phone number and not about to give him the satisfaction of hearing any kind of shaking in my voice.

"You haven't heard," Benedict's words were crisp. Rushed. "Good," he sighed at the other end of the line, "I was hoping to get ahold of you before you did."

"Heard what, Benedict?" I snapped, refusing to acknowledge the sudden lurch in my heartbeats. When no answer came, I repeated, "Heard what, damn you?!"

"Listen," Benedict said at last, his voice awfully tense, "just listen, will you? They..." another, loud sigh reached me, then words collided against my ear. "Someone in the bureau leaked out your model to a luxury cruise company. A big international corporation, Northern Lights. Based on their readings of it, they organized a cruise up the Norwegian coast, as far North as they could. A big cruise, state of the art boat, twelve hundred passengers. It was reported missing last night. Satellite data just came in: freak waves are confirmed to have unexpectedly formed in the area, and--"

"Thanks," I told the mobile even as I lifted it up before my eyes.

"Ayné? Ayné?! Damn you, listen!" Benedict's voice echoed in the night, a faint, funny mixture of anger and worry. "It was leaked out! Leaked out, and misused! You're in no way--"

"Thanks," I repeated in a quiet whisper while I clapped the phone shut and pocketed it again.

Twelve hundred people.

"Bad news." Sumeragi Shuusuke's voice was soft as night.

Dead.

Dead.

"More than a thousand lives." The blanched words had come from me. "Winked out in an instant. Killed. Drowned because my forecasting model failed." There was no way he could understand what I was talking about, but I was beyond caring about such stupid details. "Because my fucking forecasting model failed again!" My voice was dangerously close to an inarticulate wail.

Fool that I was.

Weak.

"No forecasting is ever certain. No matter what we want to believe, fate eludes us, and there isn't a single human being whose shoulders are so wide that he can claim to bear the weight of destiny. There never has been," Sumeragi Shuusuke said beside me, "and there never will be."

The gentleness in his tone was unbearable. "What do you know?!" I snarled, rounding up on him. "What do you understand outside your fake gibberish that's just good for brain-addled bigots?! Freak waves' forecasting has nothing to do with superstition or chance, and everything to do with numbers! With math, and there's nothing more certain than that!" My hands were closed into tight fists at my sides, nails tearing at the tender flesh of my palms. The pain there was distant, so distant it was unreal. "The truth is I failed, and the consequences-- Fuck, there's no sugarcoating it, I'm responsible!" With that, I whirled around and made to leave.

Fingers grabbed my right shoulder and held me back. "Are you hard of hearing?" Sumeragi Shuusuke asked, his voice calm and unconcerned. "No human being can claim responsibility for fate's doings, it would be the same as claiming to be able to control it. You," the slightest hint of mockery seeped into his voice as he added, "are no different than the rest of humanity. No higher," the smile in his words was unmistakable. "No better."

Throwing my whole weight to the left, I tried to wrench myself free, but he held me in place with surprising ease. "Let go!" I shouted at him, twisting around in the hopes of unbalancing him and failing.

In the sky, lightning flowed through the clouds, followed by thunder. "The storm is coming back," Sumeragi Shuusuke said, still immobilizing me with a single hand set on my shoulder. "You'd never reach the station before it catches up with you--not that you'd find a train for Tokyo this late, if ever you managed to outrun it."

Once more, I tried to tear myself free from his grasp. No strain ever showed on his face while he thwarted the attempt. "Curse you!" I yelled. "Let go!" Reaching out, I closed a hand over his and yanked it away from my shoulder.

"No," he retorted softly. Somehow, he had managed to twist his hand so it would clasp mine in a firm grip. "Not before you've looked at the sky and registered what I just told you."

Thunder, booming and vibrating through the earth beneath our feet.

Close.

Glancing up, I saw it. I saw lightning streaming through great patches of clouds rolling back toward us, pushed away by the mountains' height. He was right, it would be upon the Sumeragi mansion in a matter of minutes, no matter that Sumeragi Ran had predicted it was gone for good.

"No forecasting is ever certain." I tensed when the words hit, when the gentleness in them wove itself to the pain crushing my ribcage and to the lump in my throat.

"Hell." I dragged in a breath, then stared at him. "Won't you get angry?" I could feel a smile trembling upon my lips.

Get angry, and let go of me.

Forget about me and let me drown in the coming storm.

"No." Sumeragi Shuusuke's hazel gaze was set on me, the light in his eyes unfathomable. "It would be a mistake to aim for that," he smiled back at me, and I shivered while the wind rose around us. "A very, very bad one," he added, his catlike eyes holding mine and forbidding me to look away.

"Shit!" I bit my lower lip, clutching my left arm with the right hand. Confronting the strange man standing before me was too hard. He was too strong, too alien, this noble figure who could have come straight from a book on ancient Japanese myths where spirits came down from the heavens to mingle with humanity, trick it and play with it before leaving again, their bounty of lives reaped.

A hand squeezed mine, its pressure both strong and careful. Gentle even. "All right," Sumeragi Shuusuke heaved out an almost inaudible sigh. "Come with me, I'll get you to the porch and find Takashi so he can drive you back to wherever you want to go." With that, he made to walk away, then stopped when I resisted his pull upon my arm. In silence, he watched me, the expression on his face unreadable. Lightning washed the gardens with light for the time of a heartbeat, painting a frightening reflection of clouds in a nearby pond.

Thunder roared.

The storm was coming.

The storm had come and gone, far to the North, beyond the Arctic Circle. It had swept away twelve hundred lives. Blindly.

Brutally.

It was reality, and it had to be faced. Confronted. Whistood.

Something wet and warm splashed the back of my left hand--a raindrop. Had I walked back to the train station, I might have been caught in a landslide or trapped by a sudden rise in the river that came down from the mountains. As it was-- In a brisk movement, I bowed my head. "You won't go away, will you?" I asked, broken laughter filling my voice. "You'd stay out here and get drenched if I didn't move." Looking up, I saw his gaze was still focused on me.

Waiting.

Around us, rain started falling and blurred my vision. "Fuck you." There was no banishing the trembling smile from my lips. "Let's go, then."

The truth was that, if he had stepped away, I'd have followed after him, unable to remain alone in the gardens that were his. Unable to remain and feel the absence of him as sharply as the bite of winter cold--in a domain that didn't wholly belong to the human world, where an impossible figure of Faerie could exist without threatening the sanity and reality of the world, and where fate wasn't a joking word.

End of Chapter 3.

Notes

Translation of the French lyrics of the song by Zazie quoted at the beginning of the chapter: "[I've] hardly [had] enough time to have faith in myself, [so I've had] no time to have faith in God. And to grow weary of this life, I don't know if I can. I don't know if I can."
The song's title translates as "I'm coming".

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