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Equivocal	By : Meirav Category: +S to Z > X/1999 Views: 4876 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X/1999, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: I do not own X. I own Sei-Sei�s cat.

Author�s Thanks 1: to Whitesakura
the co-writer who wrote most of this chapter and to Irresistibly
Cruel the wise advisor.

Other many thanks, not a bit fewer then the those of the above, go to Trench Kamen
for advising me about this story.

Author�s Thanks 2: To Nancy
from AFF.net (again, thank you! This fic is aimed directly at those horrid X badfics), LadyYeinKhan from AFF.net (yes you
reviewed it but it doesn�t matter, you can review more and more to your heart�s
content, tee hee. And ah! You get to go to japan! I want to go to japan!
Take me with you!!!), Slover Pink from FF.net (will
Kamui and Fuma meet? Well�.it�s up for me to find out and you to guess, just
kidding. There will be some F/K action in future chapters, don�t worry), Fin Mafient from FF.net (batshit
insane�uh�thanks? No, kidding, thank you and I hope you�ll enjoy the rest of
the fic!) and to Feather-chan from FF.net (smut is
this fic�s middle name baby! Waiting for the climax
huh? Have I not provided you with enough?).

Author�s Notes: This is the second
addition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I�ve been feeling that the way
the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers
and get the right result from you.

Disclaimer 2: This story is a non-humor satire,
aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid
behavior by the character has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief
that this is how the characters are really or should really be.

************************************************************

Chapter 5
� The Hanged Man

Late Night Stroll

He's not sure when he lit the cigarette, but in a sudden rush of clarity, he
feels the smoke burn down his trachea, curl like an electric eel into his
lungs, caressing the rasped length between his mouth and his lungs.

He looks at the nearly empty carton in his hand. Only two cigarettes left. He's
already finished a pack, he really shouldn't think about getting another one,
but there's no real reason not to.

For
a moment, he thinks of purple eyes, a face full of concern, but Kamui

isn't here.

Subaru
thinks of gentle smiles and hands and a sly, sly mouth, soft and curving and
full of flirtations. Seishiro isn't here either. Seishiro Sakurazuka, the
veterinarian, never existed.

Subaru throws the carton down on the asphalt in a sudden flash of rage.

He stares at the crinkled carton lying at his feet. The wind shifts and it
suddenly rocks, back and forth, but without enough energy to actually get it
anywhere.

Subaru's lungs exhale worn, poisonous, grey fumes, inhales a new, deadlier
batch.

His
eyes water, watching his cigarette bloom red in sudden brilliance. The smoke
got in his eye and it stings. No matter how many times it happened it will
always burn the same.

Subaru's
not sure when he started smoking years ago, or how he ended up on this street
right now, in a neighbourhood full of bars and X-rated neon signs flashing
filthy seduction like a whore parting her legs.

Subaru sweeps low, grabs his misplaced box of cigarettes and pulls out the
remaining cancer sticks before tossing the carton away for good this time.

His
sweaty fingers leave faint grimy marks on the box's glossy surface. He doesn't
remember the last time he had a bath. Too many onmyouji duties; too many fights

as a Dragon of Heaven, mundane tutoring sessions with Kamui in the day,
painful, illicit dreams about Seishiro at night.

The
dreams leave him retching with want, burning with self-loathing and calling out

piteous whimpers. After Subaru wakes from those dreams, the brands on Subaru's
hands always flicker on in an explosion of light and injury and Subaru clutches
at them, wondering if Seishiro feels what his prey dreams of.

On the street, Subaru kicks aside the limp carcass of a dead rat.

Subaru remembers the smoke not only helps him to concentrate, but also to wipe
the dry, nauseous taste from his mouth congealed from the nightmares that

alternately cut and lick at his control. The smoke now stops him from biting
his own tongue. He's suddenly very afraid that Seishiro knows about the dreams,
about how he wants them almost as much as he wants the Wish.

Subaru's feet still.

A part of Subaru is excited. Maybe if Seishiro knows, he will come back to him.
Come back to hurt Subaru in some new twisted way.

Subaru
is so willing to hurt, so willing if Seishiro would only look at him again,

touches him again with possessive, murderous fingers. They're never gentle;
never like balm or medicine or warm bath water that soaks into the marrow of
one's bones.

Only
Kamui is a little bit like that. Kamui reminds Subaru of himself a little, when
he was a teenager and naive, but innocent. Underneath everything Kamui is kind.

Subaru
used to be kind; he no longer believes he is.

He�s
kind when Kamui comes over with bags of food and Sorata in toe. Karen comes
over too, when she�s not working. They cook something for him, making up an
excuse that they�re testing a new recipe on him.

Subaru
sees right through the lie and eat anyway, pretending to be a good boy now and
be a human being. He�s kind when he lets them think they�ve reached him and
made a change. If they saw through the lie they�d be heartbroken, they�d
realize how pathetic they are for trying to help him.

After
they leave the extra food they buy stays in his tiny fridge undisturbed. Often Subaru�ll open his fridge�s door to see what brand new
colours the food in it turned into, how furry it became with fungi and rot.

Subaru knows he hasn't been eating very well. He hasn't been sleeping well or
taking care of himself lately.

Hokuto-chan used to do that for him. It used to be that
Subaru simply forgot to do it himself, because he was so worried about others,
but now, it's because Subaru doesn't think he's worth taking care of
himself.

It's very late but the pubs are still open and, with his keen hearing, Subaru
can still perceive people bickering, laughing, and singing together.

He
ducks into an alleyway where no one will hear him and slumps against the stone
wall of one of the numerous taverns that populate this area of Tokyo.

Everything
that weighs on him is heavy, so heavy.

People
drink to forget their sorrows, but Subaru's are etched in his skin.

They'll
never go away.

Subaru sinks down, into rancid refuse mixed with stale water, and finally lets himself cry.

Nascent

Is there such a thing as fate, as destiny?

Since
he was small, he has been taught of his lineage. The blood that runs through
his veins is that of the Sumeragi, containing years of memories, of power, of
burden and responsibility. Subaru is the 13th clan head, one who was assigned
the role of a Dragon of Heaven, and one who is inexplicably bound to another,
his enemy, his family's nemesis.

What�s
the use of lineage anyway? It�s not like Subaru can pull the spirits of his
great fathers and talk to them. Maybe they�d help the side of him that wants to
kill the Sakurazukamori more then anything. Maybe they�d beat some sense into
the side of him that wants to screw with the Sakurazukamori more then anything.

Subaru�s
absolutely certain that, in a sense, onmyoujis work so hard to make spirits
calm down and be happy for the sole purpose of preserving themselves good spots
in the next world.

Why
else won�t they come and fucking help him?!

Is there such a thing as fate? When two opposites are destined to feud, how can
one wish for something else, when that something else is only an illusion?

Kamui was destined to fight his twin, but he was not fated to love him.

Subaru
understands the heart. It makes its own choice against lines and wills and

kismet. Sometimes, it makes a choice that can only hurt. Sometimes, it makes
even a pebble beautiful.

Subaru has wished for that moment, slick and warm and red. To stare into Seishirou's eyes and for a moment become more than just a
plaything. To bleed. For his heart
to finally have the words. The last confession, when an answer isn't
needed, only the sense of connection of that moment, when the world is bright
like glass, shattering into a million pieces. A moment like
falling out of love run in reverse. When what is broken is swept away
and whatever had lingered can

finally find peace.

Subaru knows the heart.

He
has never truly understood other people, because they often do not listen to
their own. He knows why. The day he learned that was the day his youth ended
and Hokuto had walked away, dressed in white shikifuku,
with such sad, sad green eyes.

Kamui is standing by the window. The morning bathes his pale skin with soft
brightness and the harsh lines of his slim outline are made into gentle curves.

There's turmoil in the boy's eyes and a guilt that even Subaru isn't too blind
to see.

The
cigarette is dark in Subaru's mouth and even though he has not lit

it, for Kamui's sake, the smell of smoke permanently
lingers on Subaru's skin like the possessive brands etched into it years ago.

Is there such a thing as destiny?

When
he looks at the boy he sees a young man shining like someone who breaks
destiny, who laughs in it�s face and does as he
wishes. Was it because he was given two destinies? Or is it something else Kamui�s doing?

Subaru only knows that when Kamui finally turns to look at him, Subaru still
wishes to touch tenderness even though his hands are blemished.

And
he still wishes for blemished hands to touch his tenderness.

A Pair of Sinners

Watching smoke curl its way in faint blue transparent
scarves became something for Kamui to set his mind on when guilt spoils his
afterglow.

That and watching whatever he has splattered on his
body slowly congeal. Only fluids watching soon became too much of a foothold
for his guilt so he stopped it after the tenth time he met Seishiro in private.

He punched the pillow under his head into better
supporting shape and snuggled closer under the silk covers to observe the smoke
in silence.

The day was hot. Their acts made them even hotter and
now as they lay on their king sized crime scene the heat reflected back to them
from the thick mattress. So Seishiro set the air conditioner to more power.

When got up to fish for the machine�s remote control
Kamui scanned the man�s naked body and found that he was smiling contently at
the sight.

And his guilt burst out like a maddened storm. So he
concentrated on the smoke Seishiro now produced with his second after-sex
cigarette.

Exhaled smoke is no fun, not the type Seishiro
produced anyway. It shoots into the air in a single gush when Seishiro exhales, then it crushes in midair as if hitting an
invisible wall, and slowly disappears ungracefully.

Ungracefully compared to how elegantly smoke rising
from the burning cigarette dances in the air.

Kamui observes it trying to find words poetic enough
to match the smoke�s beauty.

But his eyes choose to wander from the smoke�s point
of complete disappearance, down the curving ever changing pillar of smoke, over
to the burning cylinder, then to the powerful fingers (where the physical
memory of their acts not less then five or ten minutes ago sends shudders into
each fiber of his body), over to the long and wide palm, to the muscular arm
where he lazily traces bobbing biceps, then the broad shoulder, the neck, and
finally the face.

Often this journey was cut short as the cigarette
hovered to Seishiro�s lips.

Usually that would snap Kamui back to himself; he
would not let himself start watching Seishiro with such a manner after sex,
never ever, ever!

But he did and the guilt started flowing back into his
head.

He turned his eyes desperately elsewhere, looking for
anything to watch but that man. He gazes out the window behind him.

A black spot moving quicker then what�s humanly
possible caught his eyes; it was sneaking across the balcony�s bar, as swift as
an animal.

The curtains were drawn lower and Kamui was only able
to see a slit of the outside world through the window. The black spot moving so
fast, what was it?

Was it Fuma landing on Seishiro�s
roof to spy on them?! Or maybe he�s here to claim Kamui back? Oh please let it
be that!

He didn�t care if Fuma here means a lecture of fire
and brimstone about how Kamui is his, or maybe of how this is not the way to
fight against the DoE; Kamui wanted to finally
confront Fuma.

He wouldn�t mind running off towards the man in his
current state, all naked and wet and dirty; he just wanted to see Fuma
already!

Flapping the curtain up madly, Kamui�s
heart almost snapped in half when he saw the black patch on the wide stone
banister was nothing but Seishiro�s cat stalking an
innocent pigeon perched a few meters from it.

Kamui sighed, exasperated, and turned to the careless
man sat besides him.

Despite the fact that when he raised the curtains
forcefully he almost hit the back of the assassin�s neck with it, Seishiro
remained as he is; silent and ignoring Kamui like he always does after sex.

Seishiro would wonder off to do whatever he did (even
going out to hunt some if the time was right) or just stayed in bed and
occupied himself with the room�s television set, a book on the nightstand or
the faxes he got that day (even if Kamui could have easily read them and go off
to warn whomever it was about to lose their life).

Ignoring Kamui until the boy would leave on his own
was just another sadistic trick Seishiro played on him to make him feel
horrible and cheap and used and beg for more.

The black cat took a series of smooth short steps
towards the ignorant bird, it�s tail�s very tip
shaking madly as a sign of what it�s owner plotted.

The cat�s eyes remained focused on the bird, it�s whiskers drawn forward, it�s ears completely turned
forward, even the little fur around it�s eyes and on it�s cheeks stood on end.

From time to time the cat stopped to sniff at the
ground as if pretending he was not interested in the bird at all but when his
charade was over it homed in on the bird again.

The bird took a few waddling steps towards a curve in
the banister so that if the cat jumped it now it�ll hurl itself to the
twenty-six floors abyss below.

�You�re cat�s trying to commit suicide.� Kamui tried
to make his tone as careless and cynical as possible.

Seishiro put down the batch of faxes he was reviewing
and turned around to scan the cat and the bird outside the window.

He sighed. Sliding the window open slowly, he popped
his head out and hollered out to his pet. �Oi! Are you stupid or what?�

Kamui sniggered and covered his mouth.

He noted his heart skipped a beat when Seishiro�s head turned just a little towards him as if to
acknowledge his reaction.

Seishiro smiled as well when he withdrew himself back
into the room, and even shared an amused stare with Kamui for
a-fragment-of-a-fragment-of-a-fragment-of-a-second. Then he resumed his fax
reading and ignored Kamui again.

The cat cringed at the sound of his master�s voice
obviously speaking ill of him (Kamui learnt cats can detect what you talk about
them in the hard way when he laughed at the cat and got a foot full of claws a
few minutes later).

It turned its head to them, its ears flat to his head.
Its eyes were irritated, its wounded ego obvious through its sneaky low profile
behavior, as it leaped down from the banister and walked to the still open
window Kamui left for it to enter through.

As it climbed through the open window and down to the
bed with moves as soft and sleek as the silk covers, Kamui tried to run his
hand on its back in comfort.

The cat ducked from under him.

Kamui tried to pet him once more and was answered by a
sharp snap of the feline�s head towards him, ears still irritated and pinprick
angry pupils glaring, ready to bite.

Having learnt a few things about feline behavior, and
this particular cat�s behavior, Kamui quickly withdrew his hand and avoided
being hurt.

The cat blinked at him, even more irritated at this
second degrading miss. He growled.

Seishiro looked up from the fax and observed this
battle of wills and fangs between his two toys. This would be interesting.

Suddenly filled with confidence, Kamui ran his hand
from the cat�s ears to its nose, lingering his palm on the cat�s face.

He could feel the cat trembling with anger under his
hand. He knew he was going to be hurt but he didn�t mind.

He felt the same tremble of anger whenever he�d talk
to Subaru lately; he knew he might be spotted by Seishiro and knew he will be
hurt as punishment later but the idea only thrilled him.

The cat�s vengeance was not late; he sent his front
paws to draw Kamui�s palm over and dragged it to his
belly where its rear legs kicked at the palm.

Kamui suddenly realized that though the cat�s front
claws were drawn and scuffed his skin, they were half sheathed and not in
complete battle mode. The rear legs kicking at him were not with their claws
pulled out at all and the cat�s bite was not as blood draining as they once
were.

Was it possible?! Could the cat have grown to like
him? To do this as a game and not as real hateful fighting?

Suddenly dizzy with this surprise breaking of ice,
Kamui withdrew his hand and placed it on the cat�s face to fluster it once
more.

This time vengeance was swift and angry; the cat
lashed out it�s front paw and carved four lines of
blood into Kamui�s palm.

Kamui giggled and drew his wounded palm to his mouth.
Licking the wounds, he smiled at the cat maliciously.

The cat glared up at the boy, its tail pounding the
mattress so hard it made an overused spring deep in it creak.

Seishiro bettered his sitting on the bed and placed
the faxes away from him completely. The boy was plotting something, which was
worth watching, and the cat he so far considered as a lazy spoiled lump of fur
and fat showed its war colors in full.

Kamui waved his hand before the cat that tried to lash
out and slap some more lines into the palm. But Kamui was quick and his
instincts just as sharp as the animal�s; whenever the cat lashed out at him
he�d draw his hand away and deal a soft harmless slap to the silky paw. Soon
the cat began hissing and growling most unceremoniously at the insolent brat
before him.

Kamui sniggered scornfully at the infuriated beast.
�You�re angry eh? Angry are we? Well come and get me why won�t you?� He threw
his palm forward to place it on the cat�s face once more, snapping the feline�s
patience and composure completely.

He withdrew his hand in time and avoided the cat�s
retaliation.

The cat drew back a bit, bristling and mad. Then he
leaped forward at the tormenting hand.

Kamui drew his hand back once more but this time he
committed the sin of vanity; thinking of a new way to annoy the cat and prove
his dominance over the so far condescending animal, he grabbed the cat by the
nape of it�s neck.

For a moment, as the boy grabbed his cat and
picked it off the mattress so smoothly Seishiro was
about to clap the boy for his brave success.

He was even going to expand today�s session for
another go or two (Kamui was, after all, naked before him and on all fours
which was not something Seishiro could ignore so easily) due to this sudden
burst of surprising behavior. Who would have thought the boy had such spunk?
How delightful it is to watch?

But the cat had one last deadly trick up its sleeve.
It was a fat cat, with skin layers so abundant it�d fold up like human fat.
Now, as Kamui pulled at its skin, it used those so far useless layers to his
advantage.

It curled up in the air and wrapped itself around
Kamui like a glove, his nape still held between Kamui�s
fingers. He sunk his teeth in, the claws of all four paws ripping through skin
and flesh. He kicked and he yanked and he scratched until Seishiro screamed at
him and he stopped.

Kamui was beyond pain at this point since shock was
the first thing such an injury gave him. He stared at his bloody shredded hand
and blinked.

Powerful hands yanked him off the bed, covered his
hand with a towel and dressed him. He blinked some more.

The powerful hands pushed him out of the apartment�s
door.

Kamui snapped out of his shock. �Hey! What are you
doing?�

�You need to go to a hospital with that hand,� the
assassin answered, about to shut the door on the boy.

�Wait! Aren�t you coming with me?�

Seishiro laughed so loud it echoed
off the hallway�s marble walls and hurt Kamui�s ears.

�It�s your cat that did this to me!�

Seishiro was closing the door.

�Maybe he�s rabid! �Maybe he gave me some infection!
You know those things, not me!� The door was shut and Kamui could clearly hear
the other man say �stupid boy� beyond the door.

Kamui kicked the door but it didn�t help.

His hand chose this moment to recover the shock and
start hurting.

Then, as he scanned the two other doors in the
hallway, it dawned on him.

He started screaming. Like crazy.
Half the screams were natural pain induced cries.

He added �Sakurazuka-saaaaan!�
to his yelps until he could hear people moving behind the two other doors
whenever he stopped to take a deep breath.

Finally, Seishiro�s door
swung open and a powerful arm lashed forward to yank him in by the hairs.

Seishiro bandaged him in silence, his anger at the boy
oozing through his skin. Kamui needed stitching and, since the ex-vet still had
surgery equipment in his apartment, he won a full treatment of that.

Seishiro did not give him
painkillers and �mistakenly� stabbed him too deep when Kamui suggested their
use.

But in the end Kamui was cared for, cleared and
cleaned, stitched and even on painkillers.

He sat before Seishiro, who was now packing up his
little first aid kit, and smirked. Forget the small black cat; he grabbed the
tiger by the nape of his neck and brought him to submission.

�Are you angry,� he asked with voice dripping of honey
and sarcasm.

Seishiro glared down at him. �You�ve been a very
naughty boy with that trick in the hallway.�

Kamui batted his eyelashes and pouted sweetly.

He received a powerful right hook, which knocked him
breathless to the floor. There was real fear making him tremble now when, through
the hairs obscuring his eyes, he watched Seishiro crouch towards him with drawn
fists.

For a while the Sakurazukamori held him above the
floor by his shirt�s collar, glaring at him coldly as he looked a way to punish
the boy.

Then he threw Kamui violently back to the floor and
calmly walked towards his phone.

He ordered three male escorts -�I�d like them big,
heavy, muscular please, thank you. Oh and make them
BDSM masters�- to come to his apartment -�for a bit of fun, tee hee�-.

The next morning Kamui limped into his residence�s
living room and nearly gave everyone a heart attack. He told them he saw a cat
standing bewildered on the road, about to be hit by a car so he jumped before
the vehicle and grabbed the cat up into his arms, which won him the shredded
right hand.

But the car was full of young yakuza brats and they
were very angry at him for spoiling their joyride. So they beat him up a bit.
But he beat them back and it was alright.

Sorata gave him an educating stare; Arashi wondered if
they should worry about grudges from the yakuza in their status, Yuzuriha asked
if the cat was alright.

Kamui spent the rest of the day sleeping, trying not
to think about anything. Was he completely corrupted to the core to enjoy last
night�s full events? Was there anything left in him of that innocent little boy
who wrote a hopeful letter to Fuma?

Inner Circles Speaking to Each Other

Karen�s old high school friend led the same career
life as her. When they were together in high school he was the first one to
teach her how to put makeup on and act seductive. Together they decided, since
both of them were such underdogs and banished souls, to become prostitutes in
order to survive in society.

Between those golden days and 1999 Karen�s friend
became a great big, heavy, muscular man who came to be well known for his
skills as a BDSM master.

The morning Kamui limped back to his home Karen met
her old friend over a cup of coffee. The friend told her about an interesting
night at a certain voyeuristic Sakurazuka-san and his pet toy.

Karen frowned when she heard the �Sakura� in Sakurazuka-san�s name.

She thought. She pondered. She poked every grey cell
in her brain to try and add another piece to a puzzle she didn�t even know she
had before her.

�Were you violent on the toy?�

�Of course we were darling! Oh I forgot, you�re a complete vanilla, tee hee.�
The old friend giggled, shattering whatever tough guy image the café
costumers around them had on him.

�Yes but�I mean, beyond what he wanted?�

�Ah sure we did hon, we had
a safety word or we wouldn�t agree to do it.�

�What was it?�

�The safety word? Darling
that�s a bit too private�I�m not even supposed to have this conversation with
you.�

Karen straightened fiery eyes at her old friend�s.
When Karen�s eyes are fiery, they�re fiery.

�Okay! Okay! Quit the death glares already will you?
It was �Subaru�.�

�Subaru was there?�

�Huh? Who�s Subaru? �Subaru� was the safety word.�

��I see�and the voyeur, was he a tall dark handsome
man with one real eye and the other a glass one?�

The old friend blinked. �Y-yeah�why?
Oh deary me, do you know this man?�

�NO! ...But I might know the toy�� Now she was
so worried the old friend felt compelled to tell her everything he remembered
of last night�s events.

Sadly the old friend�s memory of faces was never that
good and the only details he could give his anxious friend were that the toy
was a young man, slim, gorgeous and feminine.

Which would suit Subaru well.

But why was the safety word Subaru�s own name? It
doesn�t make sense.

Just to make sure, Karen paid Subaru a surprise visit.
She found him sleeping in his day clothes, at 3PM, surrounded by a heavy cloud
of trapped cigarette smoke.

�Subaru-san, I�m sorry to wake you up but I need to
know where you were last night.�

Which is a stupid question because Subaru would be
absolutely delighted to tell her he spent the night getting gang-banged
by a bunch of S&M male prostitutes while his Battle to the End of the World
opposite and his family�s arch enemy sits aside and watched.

�I was out on a call,� he whispered instead, begging
her to let go of his shoulder and allow him the sleep he so needed.

�Yeah, sure you were Subaru-san.� She placed her palm
on his head like he was a child. �Go back to sleep now, you must be exhausted
after last night��

Karen turned around and opened the door to leave.

She scared a petite young woman in typical Office Lady
attire, holding a basket of fruits and a bottle of fine wine, who was about to
knock on the door when Karen swung it open for her.

The two ladies blinked at each other, confused.

�Ah! So sorry to surprise you.�
The Office Lady bowed politely, flashing a perfect smile at her.

Karen hated Office Ladies.

�You must be Sumeragi-san�s
wife,� she chirped on.

The first thought to cross Karen�s mind was that her
age is hidden enough to make this woman think she�s in the age to be Subaru�s
wife, which flattered her greatly.

Then she realized the potential of this and struck a
pose.

�Yes I am his wife.� She gave it an extra �I don�t
like seeing chirpy young women on my husband�s doorstep� tone to perfect her
mask.

�Well then maybe you can give this to him for me, he
must be taking a rest after last night.�

Karen blinked.

�Our coffee machines completely stopped acting up now
thanks to what he�s done for us yesterday.�

Karen blinked again.

�Who would have thought a disappointed secretary could
make such a mess with stifled feelings alone�� The Office Lady was babbling
now. She realized it and stopped.

�Anyway, give him our heartfelt thanks and this humble
gift from my boss. Thank you once more.� She bowed lower and left.

Karen did not feel the weight of the gifts as she
stood at the doorstep, staring forward, blinking.

It really wasn�t Subaru at the Sakurazukamori�s
apartment last night. So who was it?

She�ll talk it over with Seiichiro as soon as she
manages to yank the man out of his work and his family long enough to have a
good long conversation.

She hated to yank the man away from his family but
this was not something to think lightly of; whom would the sadistic
Sakurazukamori torment by making �Subaru� the safety word?

(tbc)
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Equivocal