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rallamajoopThe end of the Tower/Diet/Complex sub arc, leading into a little scene which most people should recognise. And I think I must be past the halfway point by now.
Other parts so far: The original ficlets, Plot notes, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12
The Complex first appeared as a mass of distant, bubble-like shapes on the plains far ahead, the terrain being flat enough that it was visible long before they got close. Doumeki had been near the Complexes only a handful of times in his life – they’d loomed out of Fye’s stories in his mind as something only half-understood. He’d never done anything like this before.
“Well, Doumeki,” said Yuuto, passing a pair of binoculars to Kusanagi, “you’re the one with the information. What do we do from here?”
“Look for something that looks like an entrance,” Doumeki replied. “We stop at least a few dozen metres away, so we look less threatening. They’ll know we’re here for a reason once they see us.”
Yuuto exchanged a quick glance with the others. “Alright. At this pace, we should be there by tomorrow sometime.”
As instructed, they made their next camp an easy stroll from the greatest outer dome of the Complex, and settled down to wait.
Outsiders wouldn’t often approach a Complex without a reason. The legendary wealth held within made them an obvious target for desperate gangs, but the equally legendary security of the places made executing a successful raid on a Complex like squeezing blood from a stone – possibly even a large boulder sort of stone which was tumbling towards you at high speed. Raids were rare these days, but the Complex security was still notoriously distrustful of outsiders. It was in the best interests of everyone from the trading mission that they look as friendly as possible. If stories were to believed, a Complex of this power would have the means to kill them where they stood.
“I fell a bit like we should be raising a white flag or something,” said Yuuto, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced at Doumeki, who shrugged.
“Do you think they’d know the emblems for the Tower and the Diet Building here?” Yuzuriha wondered.
“Quite possible,” said Kusanagi, stroking his chin, “though a long way from home.”
The small group which emerged from a sealed entrance to see what they wanted certainly looked cautious. It consisted of four men, all well armed and armoured in synthetic suits and helmets which left only a littleof their faces visible. But for the odd scratch or dent, none of the uniforms looked well used, nor was there anything to distinguish one man from the next. You could get armour like it in the deadlands – strong enough to stop a bullet (at least in theory), though in practice one bullet would probably be the least of your worries if you needed armour like that. However, even the best armour only survived so much serious use, so when complete suits were seen at all, they tended to have been thrown together from whatever assorted pieces had been available. The sight of so many matching sets together underlined the alien world of the Complexes quite drastically.
They were serious looking men, and the weapons they were carrying looked like they were meant for serious use as well. Doumeki and Kusanagi had stowed their own weapons away out of sight – they wouldn’t be good for anything but aggravating a Complex of this kind of size.
Oblivious to the mood, Yuzuriha waved to the men cheerfully as they approached. “Aren’t they strange? They all look the same! Is everyone who lives in the Complexes like that?” she asked, before Arashi shushed her up.
When they got close, the men fanned out, guns pointed at the outsiders.
“Hello there!” Yuuto called, waving to them with his biggest smile. “No need to worry too much on our account. We came by the information we might have some supplies to trade.”
“State your identity and purpose,” said the nearest of the men, apparently the leader. In addition to the helmet, a dark visor covered his eyes.
“Time for introductions?” said Kusanagi. “Certainly, but I’m afraid our names won’t mean much to you. Obviously, we’re here to trade some goods. Didn’t we have a list of everything we’ve got around here somewhere?”
Since they’d neglected to put the compiled list somewhere accessible before arriving, Yuuto had to go back to his vehicle to find it – activity which all those men pointing guns at them did not much seem to appreciate. Inuki gave a low growl.
“Can’t you point all those guns somewhere else?” Yuzuriha begged. “You’re making Inuki nervous.”
“Yuzuriha, Inuki is making them nervous,” said Arashi.
“He’s not going to hurt anyone!”
“They don’t know that yet. Bear with it a little longer.”
The list was accepted and examined at length by one of the men, leading to a huddled discussion between a couple while the rest kept their guns trained on the outsiders.
“You haven’t come from another Complex.”
“Oh, no, no, we’re just representing a few groups of outsiders who happened to come across some useful information,” said Yuuto. “We’ve come a very long way to get here.”
“We need to show this to Administration,” the leader concluded shortly, sending two of his men back to the Complex with the list.
The minutes after the Complex entryway closed once more stretched out without either of the two remaining men lowering their weapons. Doumeki quickly found himself itching for the familiar weight of his own gun, despite all reasonable logic which said it would only have put him in worse danger.
“How long do you think they’ll be?” Yuuto asked the men conversationally.
“However long Administration decides to take,” the leader replied humourlessly. “It could be a while.”
“It does involve border security,” said his companion thoughtfully, “that should cut out some of the bureaucracy.” He wore glasses under his own helmet, which startled Doumeki for a moment when he first saw them – personally too used to glasses as something only Watanuki wore.
“Ah,” said Yuuto. “We could talk about the weather, perhaps?”
“Conversing with suspects isn’t part of our job.”
“Suspects?” said Yuzuriha. “What are we suspected of?”
“Being suspicious,” Doumeki supplied.
“Are we that suspicious?”
“I know I am,” said Kusanagi ruefully. “I wouldn’t have been sent on this mission if I wasn’t dangerous.”
“To the Complexes, anyone from outside would be suspicious, correct?” asked Arashi.
The guards exchanged a flicker of a glance with each other.
Doumeki had had ample time to develop the impression that Yuuto could negotiate his way out of the middle of a gunfight, but the psychological effect of sending two young women such as they Tower had chosen was something he couldn’t deny.
“You don’t mind if we converse between ourselves a bit, I hope?” Yuuto asked. “Just to pass the time.”
Eventually, the glasses-guard gave in, sat down and pulled off his helmet to reveal a middle-aged face and a head of neatly cropped dark hair. He introduced himself as Kazuhiko, and proved to be friendly only be comparison to his commanding officer – Gingestu, who was about as open as a stone wall, but who eventually followed his subordinate’s example by removing his own helmet and lowering his gun. They both reminded Doumeki of Kurogane in some small way he couldn’t quite put words to. They were more interested in listening than offering much contribution to the conversation of their own, but at least the wait was more relaxed than it would have been at continued gunpoint.
“They’re going to be unhappy with us if we let you take us hostage,” Kazuhiko admitted as he set his gun aside.
“We’ll keep it in mind,” said Yuuto, conversationally.
After a little under an hour, the Complex entry opened once more to admit a party of seven people, prompting the two guards to hurry back to their feet. Four more guards emerged from the Complex, framing a small part of three figures in less defensive dress. The outermost clothes of those three still resembled armour of some kind, although it was much thinner and clearly not designed to support the same sort of use. At their centre was a slim woman. She wore no helmet – it would be difficult to imagine how the wavy halo of dark hair that surrounded her head could ever be styled to fit inside one. She was quite stunningly beautiful.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” she said, once she and her escort had reached them, her voice pleasantly melodious. “I am Oruha. I have been sent on behalf of the Complex to examine and negotiate for the goods you have offered us.”
“Kigai Yuuto,” Yuuto introduced himself, holding out a hand with a broad smile. “A great pleasure to meet you.” Unseen, his behaviour got him a glare from Kazuhiko, though Oruha herself beamed back at him, taking his hand in her own.
“Naturally, we would wish to begin by inspecting what you have brought,” Oruha said.
“By all means,” Yuuto replied, nodding to Arashi and Kusanagi, who moved out behind him to open compartments and remove covers as necessary. Permission duely granted, Oruha’s two attendants stepped forward, the guards fanning out to cover the vehicles from all sides, leaving Kazuhiko and Gingestu with Oruha.
“You have sparked a great amount of curiousity regarding what you have brought us,” said Oruha as her attendants carried out their task. “The similarity between the list you supplied and a request recently sent to a neighbouring Complex is too great to be coincidental.”
“Ah? Well, I’m afraid I’m unable to do much to satisfy your curiousity on that account. The list was provided to us by a third party for a reasonable price – by what means they might have obtained it they didn’t reveal.” Not the slightest glance was directed towards Doumeki as this was reported. “But it’s not unheard of for the Complexes to trade with outsiders.”
“Nonetheless, the practice has faded much in recent years,” said Oruha. “Trade will preferentially go between Complexes, provided the right goods are available. We have a vested interest in encouraging trade with our neighbours. With that in mind, I fear you may have been mislead to expect a greater rate of compensation than we will be willing to provide you.”
“I suppose some negotiations are going to be in order then,” said Yuuto, smile never dimming.
“Once we have determined the quality of the goods you have brought us, I am sure some beneficial arrangement may be reached.”
Doumeki decided it would be best to leave them to it.
***
Examining their luggage and settling on an exchanging rate turned into a longer process than Doumeki had any patience for. People went back and forth between their temporary camp and the Complex in streams, measuring, weighing, examining everything, and eventually bringing great, mechanised trolleys out to their vehicles. Goods were loaded and unloaded, as Oruha and Yuuto made minor adjustments to the price of what must have been nearly every item, one or the other of them pausing now and then to send an attendant back to the Complex with a message or to check some detail with Doumeki or the Tower’s party. The armed guards relaxed slightly as the day wore on, but never gave up their vigil. By the time the winter sun was beginning to sink low in the sky, however, the process was over at last, leaving them a good few useful hours of travelling time before sunset in which to relocate their camp to somewhere that would make the Complex Administration less nervous.
The food they’d come so far to get did not look like much, coming in the form of tightly packed, brownish pellets wrapped in some kind of synthetic wrapping, the contents processed and reprocessed for storage until its original form was indistinguishable. It didn’t taste of much when Doumeki was invited to try a sample, but against a lot of the outsiders’ usual diet that was something of a mercy. It was unusually filling too, which Oruha assured them wasn’t the least misleading – there was a lot packed into even a small amount. Storage space was as important to the Complex as it was on the vehicles.
Yuuto and Oruha conveyed their goodbyes with vocal assurances of the pleasure of doing business with one another. The possibility that they would ever have the chance to do so again was left undiscussed.
“After we came all that way they never even invited us in,” Yuzuriha complained to Arashi as the cart pulled away. “Doesn’t that seem a little rude?”
“Would we have invited an envoy from the Diet Building into the Tower?” Arashi asked her.
“I would if it was Kusanagi-san,” Yuzuriha pouted. Arashi simply sighed.
“Didn’t you want to see the inside of a real Complex?” she asked Doumeki, who considered the question briefly.
“No,” he concluded. “I wouldn’t.”
From there, all that remained was the long trip home.
***
The rest of the return journey was pleasantly uneventful, however, when Doumeki got back at last, it was to discover that an aura of gloom had descended over his home camp. Syaoran was the one who pulled him aside to explain why. Watanuki had lead them on two supply missions while Doumeki had been away – both of them busts. In the months since Watanuki had first joined their camp he’d lead them on eleven missions for which Doumeki had been present, and only one had ever failed to reward them with something they could use. This new trend had everyone uncomfortable. Kurogane might have told Watanuki officially that no-one was counting on his ability, but they’d all had just enough time to get used to it working reliably to really feel the blow of it being gone, and talents like Watanuki’s made everyone that little bit superstitious. Whether this meant Watanuki’s lucky streak was over, or whether this was all just some immature form of protest over Doumeki’s extended absence, or whatever other reason, it wasn’t looking good.
At least no-one here would ever have hit him for it, which was more relieving to both him and Watanuki than even the room full of bodies where the boy had been found could entirely explain.
Watanuki looked relieved to see him back, but only for a moment.
“It’s easier when you’re around,” he said angrily. Angry at having to justify himself all the time, angry at having to explain all this to someone he knew only halfway believed him, probably angrier still at having to give Doumeki credit for something he was blatantly unaware he was doing at all. “All the angriest ghosts – the big ugly ones and the ones that only want to make trouble – they won’t go near you. Don’t ask me why, I’ve never seen that happen around anyone before,” he added, with a certain amount of grudging awe. “And as soon as you left they came back again.”
Doumeki didn’t know what to begin to make of this and didn’t try. “The others think you were sulking about me being away.” Well, Kurogane and Syoaran did, or suspected it at least. Sakura didn’t think things like that about anyone, and he never knew what Fye was thinking about anything.
“You still don’t believe me, do you?” said Watanuki, hotly.
“I don’t know what to believe,” said Doumeki. All he knew for sure was that Watanuki was far too good at finding them what they needed for it to matter how he did it.
Watanuki glared at him, then gave up. “I had a dream while you were away,” he said, looking back towards the camp. “About this guy who looked just like you.”
“I’m not dead,” said Doumeki firmly.
“Of course not,” Watanuki snorted, “He couldn’t have been you. He smiled far too much. All the time.” Behind him, Doumeki went very still. Watanuki went on oblivious. “He said his name was Haruka.”
“Stop there,” said Doumeki.
Watanuki gave him one of his flickering glances. “He was your grandfather, wasn’t he?”
Doumeki had Watanuki by the collar of his shirt before he knew what he was doing. “I told you to shut. Up,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
Watanuki’s eyes widened with shock, then settled quickly back into their usual angry defiance. It didn’t matter now what Doumeki might or might not admit, Watanuki knew he’d scored a point. Fortunately, he was still wise enough to stay silent on the subject after that.
Doumeki spent the rest of the day trying to remember whether he’d ever mentioned Doumeki Haruka to anyone in the camp – anyone Watanuki might have spoken to. It wouldn’t be like him to have said anything, would have been even less like him to forget it if he had, but it wasn’t impossible and it was still easier to believe than the alternative.
Other parts so far: The original ficlets, Plot notes, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12
The Complex first appeared as a mass of distant, bubble-like shapes on the plains far ahead, the terrain being flat enough that it was visible long before they got close. Doumeki had been near the Complexes only a handful of times in his life – they’d loomed out of Fye’s stories in his mind as something only half-understood. He’d never done anything like this before.
“Well, Doumeki,” said Yuuto, passing a pair of binoculars to Kusanagi, “you’re the one with the information. What do we do from here?”
“Look for something that looks like an entrance,” Doumeki replied. “We stop at least a few dozen metres away, so we look less threatening. They’ll know we’re here for a reason once they see us.”
Yuuto exchanged a quick glance with the others. “Alright. At this pace, we should be there by tomorrow sometime.”
As instructed, they made their next camp an easy stroll from the greatest outer dome of the Complex, and settled down to wait.
Outsiders wouldn’t often approach a Complex without a reason. The legendary wealth held within made them an obvious target for desperate gangs, but the equally legendary security of the places made executing a successful raid on a Complex like squeezing blood from a stone – possibly even a large boulder sort of stone which was tumbling towards you at high speed. Raids were rare these days, but the Complex security was still notoriously distrustful of outsiders. It was in the best interests of everyone from the trading mission that they look as friendly as possible. If stories were to believed, a Complex of this power would have the means to kill them where they stood.
“I fell a bit like we should be raising a white flag or something,” said Yuuto, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced at Doumeki, who shrugged.
“Do you think they’d know the emblems for the Tower and the Diet Building here?” Yuzuriha wondered.
“Quite possible,” said Kusanagi, stroking his chin, “though a long way from home.”
The small group which emerged from a sealed entrance to see what they wanted certainly looked cautious. It consisted of four men, all well armed and armoured in synthetic suits and helmets which left only a littleof their faces visible. But for the odd scratch or dent, none of the uniforms looked well used, nor was there anything to distinguish one man from the next. You could get armour like it in the deadlands – strong enough to stop a bullet (at least in theory), though in practice one bullet would probably be the least of your worries if you needed armour like that. However, even the best armour only survived so much serious use, so when complete suits were seen at all, they tended to have been thrown together from whatever assorted pieces had been available. The sight of so many matching sets together underlined the alien world of the Complexes quite drastically.
They were serious looking men, and the weapons they were carrying looked like they were meant for serious use as well. Doumeki and Kusanagi had stowed their own weapons away out of sight – they wouldn’t be good for anything but aggravating a Complex of this kind of size.
Oblivious to the mood, Yuzuriha waved to the men cheerfully as they approached. “Aren’t they strange? They all look the same! Is everyone who lives in the Complexes like that?” she asked, before Arashi shushed her up.
When they got close, the men fanned out, guns pointed at the outsiders.
“Hello there!” Yuuto called, waving to them with his biggest smile. “No need to worry too much on our account. We came by the information we might have some supplies to trade.”
“State your identity and purpose,” said the nearest of the men, apparently the leader. In addition to the helmet, a dark visor covered his eyes.
“Time for introductions?” said Kusanagi. “Certainly, but I’m afraid our names won’t mean much to you. Obviously, we’re here to trade some goods. Didn’t we have a list of everything we’ve got around here somewhere?”
Since they’d neglected to put the compiled list somewhere accessible before arriving, Yuuto had to go back to his vehicle to find it – activity which all those men pointing guns at them did not much seem to appreciate. Inuki gave a low growl.
“Can’t you point all those guns somewhere else?” Yuzuriha begged. “You’re making Inuki nervous.”
“Yuzuriha, Inuki is making them nervous,” said Arashi.
“He’s not going to hurt anyone!”
“They don’t know that yet. Bear with it a little longer.”
The list was accepted and examined at length by one of the men, leading to a huddled discussion between a couple while the rest kept their guns trained on the outsiders.
“You haven’t come from another Complex.”
“Oh, no, no, we’re just representing a few groups of outsiders who happened to come across some useful information,” said Yuuto. “We’ve come a very long way to get here.”
“We need to show this to Administration,” the leader concluded shortly, sending two of his men back to the Complex with the list.
The minutes after the Complex entryway closed once more stretched out without either of the two remaining men lowering their weapons. Doumeki quickly found himself itching for the familiar weight of his own gun, despite all reasonable logic which said it would only have put him in worse danger.
“How long do you think they’ll be?” Yuuto asked the men conversationally.
“However long Administration decides to take,” the leader replied humourlessly. “It could be a while.”
“It does involve border security,” said his companion thoughtfully, “that should cut out some of the bureaucracy.” He wore glasses under his own helmet, which startled Doumeki for a moment when he first saw them – personally too used to glasses as something only Watanuki wore.
“Ah,” said Yuuto. “We could talk about the weather, perhaps?”
“Conversing with suspects isn’t part of our job.”
“Suspects?” said Yuzuriha. “What are we suspected of?”
“Being suspicious,” Doumeki supplied.
“Are we that suspicious?”
“I know I am,” said Kusanagi ruefully. “I wouldn’t have been sent on this mission if I wasn’t dangerous.”
“To the Complexes, anyone from outside would be suspicious, correct?” asked Arashi.
The guards exchanged a flicker of a glance with each other.
Doumeki had had ample time to develop the impression that Yuuto could negotiate his way out of the middle of a gunfight, but the psychological effect of sending two young women such as they Tower had chosen was something he couldn’t deny.
“You don’t mind if we converse between ourselves a bit, I hope?” Yuuto asked. “Just to pass the time.”
Eventually, the glasses-guard gave in, sat down and pulled off his helmet to reveal a middle-aged face and a head of neatly cropped dark hair. He introduced himself as Kazuhiko, and proved to be friendly only be comparison to his commanding officer – Gingestu, who was about as open as a stone wall, but who eventually followed his subordinate’s example by removing his own helmet and lowering his gun. They both reminded Doumeki of Kurogane in some small way he couldn’t quite put words to. They were more interested in listening than offering much contribution to the conversation of their own, but at least the wait was more relaxed than it would have been at continued gunpoint.
“They’re going to be unhappy with us if we let you take us hostage,” Kazuhiko admitted as he set his gun aside.
“We’ll keep it in mind,” said Yuuto, conversationally.
After a little under an hour, the Complex entry opened once more to admit a party of seven people, prompting the two guards to hurry back to their feet. Four more guards emerged from the Complex, framing a small part of three figures in less defensive dress. The outermost clothes of those three still resembled armour of some kind, although it was much thinner and clearly not designed to support the same sort of use. At their centre was a slim woman. She wore no helmet – it would be difficult to imagine how the wavy halo of dark hair that surrounded her head could ever be styled to fit inside one. She was quite stunningly beautiful.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” she said, once she and her escort had reached them, her voice pleasantly melodious. “I am Oruha. I have been sent on behalf of the Complex to examine and negotiate for the goods you have offered us.”
“Kigai Yuuto,” Yuuto introduced himself, holding out a hand with a broad smile. “A great pleasure to meet you.” Unseen, his behaviour got him a glare from Kazuhiko, though Oruha herself beamed back at him, taking his hand in her own.
“Naturally, we would wish to begin by inspecting what you have brought,” Oruha said.
“By all means,” Yuuto replied, nodding to Arashi and Kusanagi, who moved out behind him to open compartments and remove covers as necessary. Permission duely granted, Oruha’s two attendants stepped forward, the guards fanning out to cover the vehicles from all sides, leaving Kazuhiko and Gingestu with Oruha.
“You have sparked a great amount of curiousity regarding what you have brought us,” said Oruha as her attendants carried out their task. “The similarity between the list you supplied and a request recently sent to a neighbouring Complex is too great to be coincidental.”
“Ah? Well, I’m afraid I’m unable to do much to satisfy your curiousity on that account. The list was provided to us by a third party for a reasonable price – by what means they might have obtained it they didn’t reveal.” Not the slightest glance was directed towards Doumeki as this was reported. “But it’s not unheard of for the Complexes to trade with outsiders.”
“Nonetheless, the practice has faded much in recent years,” said Oruha. “Trade will preferentially go between Complexes, provided the right goods are available. We have a vested interest in encouraging trade with our neighbours. With that in mind, I fear you may have been mislead to expect a greater rate of compensation than we will be willing to provide you.”
“I suppose some negotiations are going to be in order then,” said Yuuto, smile never dimming.
“Once we have determined the quality of the goods you have brought us, I am sure some beneficial arrangement may be reached.”
Doumeki decided it would be best to leave them to it.
***
Examining their luggage and settling on an exchanging rate turned into a longer process than Doumeki had any patience for. People went back and forth between their temporary camp and the Complex in streams, measuring, weighing, examining everything, and eventually bringing great, mechanised trolleys out to their vehicles. Goods were loaded and unloaded, as Oruha and Yuuto made minor adjustments to the price of what must have been nearly every item, one or the other of them pausing now and then to send an attendant back to the Complex with a message or to check some detail with Doumeki or the Tower’s party. The armed guards relaxed slightly as the day wore on, but never gave up their vigil. By the time the winter sun was beginning to sink low in the sky, however, the process was over at last, leaving them a good few useful hours of travelling time before sunset in which to relocate their camp to somewhere that would make the Complex Administration less nervous.
The food they’d come so far to get did not look like much, coming in the form of tightly packed, brownish pellets wrapped in some kind of synthetic wrapping, the contents processed and reprocessed for storage until its original form was indistinguishable. It didn’t taste of much when Doumeki was invited to try a sample, but against a lot of the outsiders’ usual diet that was something of a mercy. It was unusually filling too, which Oruha assured them wasn’t the least misleading – there was a lot packed into even a small amount. Storage space was as important to the Complex as it was on the vehicles.
Yuuto and Oruha conveyed their goodbyes with vocal assurances of the pleasure of doing business with one another. The possibility that they would ever have the chance to do so again was left undiscussed.
“After we came all that way they never even invited us in,” Yuzuriha complained to Arashi as the cart pulled away. “Doesn’t that seem a little rude?”
“Would we have invited an envoy from the Diet Building into the Tower?” Arashi asked her.
“I would if it was Kusanagi-san,” Yuzuriha pouted. Arashi simply sighed.
“Didn’t you want to see the inside of a real Complex?” she asked Doumeki, who considered the question briefly.
“No,” he concluded. “I wouldn’t.”
From there, all that remained was the long trip home.
***
The rest of the return journey was pleasantly uneventful, however, when Doumeki got back at last, it was to discover that an aura of gloom had descended over his home camp. Syaoran was the one who pulled him aside to explain why. Watanuki had lead them on two supply missions while Doumeki had been away – both of them busts. In the months since Watanuki had first joined their camp he’d lead them on eleven missions for which Doumeki had been present, and only one had ever failed to reward them with something they could use. This new trend had everyone uncomfortable. Kurogane might have told Watanuki officially that no-one was counting on his ability, but they’d all had just enough time to get used to it working reliably to really feel the blow of it being gone, and talents like Watanuki’s made everyone that little bit superstitious. Whether this meant Watanuki’s lucky streak was over, or whether this was all just some immature form of protest over Doumeki’s extended absence, or whatever other reason, it wasn’t looking good.
At least no-one here would ever have hit him for it, which was more relieving to both him and Watanuki than even the room full of bodies where the boy had been found could entirely explain.
Watanuki looked relieved to see him back, but only for a moment.
“It’s easier when you’re around,” he said angrily. Angry at having to justify himself all the time, angry at having to explain all this to someone he knew only halfway believed him, probably angrier still at having to give Doumeki credit for something he was blatantly unaware he was doing at all. “All the angriest ghosts – the big ugly ones and the ones that only want to make trouble – they won’t go near you. Don’t ask me why, I’ve never seen that happen around anyone before,” he added, with a certain amount of grudging awe. “And as soon as you left they came back again.”
Doumeki didn’t know what to begin to make of this and didn’t try. “The others think you were sulking about me being away.” Well, Kurogane and Syoaran did, or suspected it at least. Sakura didn’t think things like that about anyone, and he never knew what Fye was thinking about anything.
“You still don’t believe me, do you?” said Watanuki, hotly.
“I don’t know what to believe,” said Doumeki. All he knew for sure was that Watanuki was far too good at finding them what they needed for it to matter how he did it.
Watanuki glared at him, then gave up. “I had a dream while you were away,” he said, looking back towards the camp. “About this guy who looked just like you.”
“I’m not dead,” said Doumeki firmly.
“Of course not,” Watanuki snorted, “He couldn’t have been you. He smiled far too much. All the time.” Behind him, Doumeki went very still. Watanuki went on oblivious. “He said his name was Haruka.”
“Stop there,” said Doumeki.
Watanuki gave him one of his flickering glances. “He was your grandfather, wasn’t he?”
Doumeki had Watanuki by the collar of his shirt before he knew what he was doing. “I told you to shut. Up,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
Watanuki’s eyes widened with shock, then settled quickly back into their usual angry defiance. It didn’t matter now what Doumeki might or might not admit, Watanuki knew he’d scored a point. Fortunately, he was still wise enough to stay silent on the subject after that.
Doumeki spent the rest of the day trying to remember whether he’d ever mentioned Doumeki Haruka to anyone in the camp – anyone Watanuki might have spoken to. It wouldn’t be like him to have said anything, would have been even less like him to forget it if he had, but it wasn’t impossible and it was still easier to believe than the alternative.
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Date: 2007-10-31 06:26 am (UTC)That's true, but we don't see much of the X characters besides Kamui, Fuuma, and perhaps Nataku in Acid Tokyo. I think all the characterisation credits go to you. :D But yeah. It's a nice dynamic. Simply survival above all else.
and with so much room for desperate last stands and uneasy alliances. Not to mention violence and unlikely friendships.iambickilometer = iambic as Shakespeare's form of writing, and kilometer as in the unit of measurement.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 12:15 am (UTC)Honestly, all the Acid Tokyo characters have been transplanted to my own post-apocalyptic AU so directly that I'm pretty much cheating by using them at all - but they fit in so well and they add so much to the dynamic of the area the main characters live in that I feel it's well enough justified.
Ah. I kept trying to read it as "I am.." something, which never did quite work. ^^;