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Equivocal	By : Meirav Category: +S to Z > X/1999 Views: 4874 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer 1: I do not own X, Clamp do

Disclaimer 1: I do not own X, Clamp do. I do not
own the lyrics of the song, Depeche Mode do.

Author�s Thanks: many many
thanks for Lani Reaper who chatted with me on MSN
messenger, if it weren�t for that �most outrageous non-canon same-sex X
pairing� chat I wouldn�t have come up with this story.

Many thanks also go to Kathy (Beta) and WhiteSakura for co-writing. also
many thanks to Elizabeth Benedict, author of The Joy of Writing Sex who�s book
helped me map out guidelines to some of the future scenes in this fic.

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 Notes: This is the second adition, 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 it�s purposes and is NOT
written out of the believe that this is how the characters are really or should
really be.

Warnings: this fic will plunge deep into the
dark realms of lemon in future chapters. Other then that,
there�s non-canon pairing warning.

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

Chapter
One: Perspectives

One Track Mind

Fuma stood perched on a lamppost overlooking a small
green park on the edge of Tokyo�s
bustling heart.

He observed the humans in the park as they went about
their ways under him. He observed them, collecting information and storing it
for future analysis.

There were lone walkers, taking a stroll in the lovely
park to enjoy the first days of winter melting into spring, allowing the sun to
shine brightly upon them.

These walkers were absent minded, the void in their
mind caused by the simplicity of the beautiful sunshine, the smell of freshly
cut grass and the sight of little flowers planted in carefully planned
flowerbeds.

The walkers didn�t have to be alone; sometimes there
were two of them or three, or a whole group. All were the same; all tranquil
and silent shutting off every other distraction in order to completely observe
the park around them.

Fuma liked these walkers (as much as he can like
humans, being the Dragons of Earth�s Kamui) for they seemed to be the only ones
who could completely fathom the glory this park presented.

There were couples walking the park�s paths holding
hands and stopping for a quick kiss and a hug.

There were couples having a picnic on the large lawn
stretches, crushing the delicate leafs under their bodies, their tablecloths
and food containers, crushing the ants that tried to prosper on their food.

There were couples taking a romantic boat ride in the
small artificial lake. They sailed harmlessly across the water�s cool surface,
enjoying the silky smooth heat rising from the lake.

From time to time the female of the couple would shriek
and point at the water, marking the existence of a passing fish. They�d pretend
to be afraid of nature�s creatures�..well, Fuma too often found himself in
slight discontent at the existence of these beings. Bred by humans, these poor creatures lost most
of their natural features until they became the image of humans� twisted likes.
The fish in that particular lake were even put there by humans in order to give
the lake a more natural appearance. Ridiculous.

There were quick passersby, rushing from one end of
the park to the other as a shortcut from wherever they came from to wherever
they want to reach.

These were businessmen or women, hell bound on their
corporate giri so bad they were blind to everything
around them.

Some of these mad runners spoke into their cellular
phones as they raced around, spreading the poisonous radiation from the
machines into their surrounding.

Fuma could find little comfort in the fact that the
first to be harmed by the radiation would be those who took it into their hand in
the first time.

Then there were the hoards of children. Herds of them,
screaming, shrieking, yelping, giggling, laughing, fighting, begging, falling,
crying to mommy�.so much noise!

They stomped on the grass like a maddened stampede,
crushing and killing anything in their way. They ate useless, unneeded candied
snacks and threw their un-recyclable packages on the grass or just outside the
waste bin. They smacked the water surface of the lake, scaring the fish. They
caught some of the fish and tore them out of the water where they lay,
twitching as they fought uselessly against suffocation.

They scared the little creatures who lived in the
forested part of the park; the little squirrels, the feral cats, the birds and
the insects. If they caught any of those they�d abuse it or cuddle it, scaring
the poor animal. Only a few would care for an animal they�d find wounded or
hungry.

Fuma despised children so much.

He despised humans, but then again, that was an essential
part of his character as Kamui for the Seven Harbingers.

These humans underneath him, their ignorance shone out
the strongest in this park. Shone out because most of them saw this as their
image of nature for they never stepped out of the stifling maze of stone and
iron to know any better. Shone out because the humans who built this park
thought it was under their authority to trap nature inside a square of concrete
and asphalt. Shone out because no one in this park knew of the chemical harmony
the trees and bushes created amongst them, of the feast the insects made of the
little flowerbeds, of the intricate relationships and connections between the
three clans of feral cats in the park. Shone out because the humans once knew
of these thing�s existence, knew they could never
possibly grasp it all at once, and gave up on their honor and awe for that
existence.

Once upon a time humans were nature�s woeful servants
and faithful worshipers. They respected nature�s needs, understood it�s cycles and various phenomenon. They lived their lives
tip-toeing around nature�s Thou Shall Nots with
complete acceptation.

Now humans are selfish, ignorant, abusive, and
careless. Mother Nature�s children turned against her, abusing her ruthlessly.

And she?

Mother Nature created Fuma, begging this child of her
to rid her of her parasites, filling his mind with words of hate and plans of
destruction.

Fuma nodded and agreed with her pleas.

He will destroy these treacherous humans. He will tear
down every building they�ve erected upon the face of the earth and underneath
it. He will rip the human out of nature�s ecological system like a rotten
tooth. He will unchain nature and set it free again.

He might die in the process but that was not a notion
ever thought of by him. He was, by his definition, a human and as one he should
perish just like rest of them. When he died, he would die with the honor and joy
of a mission well executed. He would willingly fall upon his sword, erasing the
last of nature�s most destructive race.

The Seven Seals were nothing but ticks born and made a
little plumper then the rest of their race, and were now thrown against him by
a force opposite to his Mother Nature. Like ticks, he would pluck them one by
one and squash them under his heel without a qualm.

Those were and always will be the thoughts of Monou
Fuma as the fully awakened Kamui of the Dragons of Earth.

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

Obsessed

Kamui sat on his bed in his little room inside the apartment
give to the Dragons of Heaven who studied at Clamp Campus.

His knees were drawn to his chest, his left arm circling
his legs in a tight embrace. He gnawed violently at the nail of his right
hand�s thumb, as violently as his mind raved between his ears.

Downstairs Sorata and Yuzuriha worked on dinner,
making an awful racket of rattling kitchen utilities, shrieks and giggles. Both
had such high pitched voices when they were in a good mood that if it weren�t
for Kamui�s feverish mind blocking the real world
from him he would have winced at the noise.

Fuma was on Kamui�s mind or,
to be more precise, the obsession Fuma had grown to become.

Kamui wanted Fuma.

More then ever, in more ways then before, with more
force then before and with much, much more obsessive then before.

Kamui would obsess over Fuma�s
looks, debating which part of the older teen he liked and lusted
the most.

He�d often ponder the change in the older teen�s
outfit and wondered if all this lay hidden in the Fuma he knew or came along
with the change he�s had since his �awakening�. When the time for them to meet
in battle came Kamui often found that he is getting more and more distracted by
�the other Kamui�s appearance to focus on the task in
hand properly. This had led to Tojo pharmacies� chief
to almost die the last time Kamui and Fuma met. So powerful were the love and
lust Kamui felt for Fuma .

Kamui, at this point, was way past the point where he
wondered why he lusted over Fuma at all.

Kamui would obsess over the many memories he had of
Fuma. He�d obsess over every word the young man ever told him. He�d obsess (and
this he would delight in obsessing the most) over each minute and second of his
reunion with Fuma, their first meeting in the schoolyard, the first time Fuma
spoke to him directly, the first time Kamui felt the grown Fuma�s
hand on his body.

He would lie on his back and think about definitions
for how much he loved Fuma. Childish, foolish, overly romantic silly notions
like �I love Fuma so much that if it was water it�d be enough to put out the
sun�s fire!�.

He�d look back on the years gone by and compare his
love for Fuma then to the love for Fuma he feels now, noting how it grew like a
farmer over his field.

Fuma would not leave Kamui for one second. His twin
star became a ghost repeatedly called to appear before his eyes.

Kamui would see �Fuma� written in his textbooks
instead of the names really written there which happened to begin with �F�.

Then he�d see �Fuma� written instead of every
word beginning with an �F�. It had gotten to a point where Kamui would open a
textbook, his own notebooks, a newspaper, manga, a newspaper, and see �Fuma,
Fuma, Fuma, Fuma, Fuma� all over the pages.

When Kamui would brush his teeth in the bathroom, Fuma�s face would appear before him instead of his own
reflection. The youth would glare at him with evil fiery eyes bent on
destroying him or smile at him, soft and brotherly as once upon a time.

Kamui would toss and turn in his bed at night,
debating which one of Fuma�s versions he liked best.

What busied him the most was trying to analyze the new
emotions and sensations the new Fuma stirred inside him.

Kamui liked the new Fuma. In fact, the new Fuma drew
more love, lust, want and obsession out of Kamui then the old, brotherly one
ever did.

Was it always so that Kamui enjoyed a little (or more)
pain in his encounters with Fuma?

Kamui raked his mind in search for past memories of
such sort.

When they�d play �catch� in the Monou�s
backyard and Fuma would tackle him to the ground, did he feel the same
lightning bolt of excitement and arousal as he did when Fuma pressed against
him just before he slew Kotori, or when Fuma leaned over him talking about cutting
his heart out and eating it?

When they were young and Fuma would playfully wrap his
arm around his neck and ruffle his hair just a little too violently, did he
feel the same longing for more of this rough touch as when Fuma bent his arm
around his back to a point it almost broke and drew their faces so close?

There was no doubt, in Kamui�s
mind, that Fuma was slowly handing him more and more of this aphrodisiac, of
this drug to lure him towards him, to have him completely.

�Have him completely�. It sent shivers through Kamui�s body, wrecking through his mind like a typhoon, blinding
him, deafening him, twisting his common sense, making him hot and needy at
night.

Kamui had had enough of this far off longing. He
wished to move past fantasies and Fuma�s little
groping hints. Kamui wanted action!

But how will he bring action about?! Every time he and
Fuma met it ended in violence, the wrong kind of violence that is. Sure, Fuma
would leave hot trails over his body wherever his fingers touched in maliciousness
(or was it seduction?), but Kamui preferred it to be without all the damage to
their surrounding buildings.

How will they meet? How would Kamui explain his needs
to Fuma? How will he behave? How will he dress?�such
pressing question limiting him while the raging need to meet Fuma almost
exploded in him.

As he sat gnawing at fingernail and flash, his mind
became such a roaring storm Kamui reached out to his nightstand and grabbed the
bottle of painkillers he had permanently stationed there since Fuma�s awakening.

As if the sudden distraction of doing something that
isn�t thinking was all Kamui needed to clear his thoughts and straighten his
mind, suddenly, in the crystal clear silence of his mind, an idea shone out.

A letter. He will send Fuma a letter
in which he will invite him to a meeting. There they will talk, or fuck,
whatever Fuma preferred. Kamui preferred the second,
it�ll clear his mind from some of its distractions.

Kamui leaped off his bed and shot to his desk, swiping
off any textbook, notebook, old coffee cups and other objects. He ripped a page
from his loose-leave notebook and grabbed his pen fiercely as if it were a
weapon of destruction.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his foggy
fixated mind, and began to write.

By then Kotori became a vague shadow somewhere at the
back of Kamui�s mind, a ghost desperately reaching
out its arms to help her friend save himself from madness.

It was only Kamui and Fuma for the leader of the Seven
Seals now, and nothing of the outside world could crush down those obsessive
walls around his mind.

He sat on the chair by his desk, surrounded by open
notebooks and textbooks laying on the ground like dead
moths in the morning, broken bits of coffee cups and papers scattered.

He did not notice the mess he had done and he will not
notice he had forgotten to do homework for the past week when he will pick up
the cast away school things to prepare for another day of time wasting tomorrow
morning.

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

Reciprocity

It was early morning. In the dark room, black was slowly giving way to grey.
The light crept softly thorough the veiled curtains of a window and touched the
edge of Kamui's bed.

Subaru
reached out similarly when the dark head suddenly tossed in the throws of a

nightmare, or perhaps remembered pain from the boy's last encounter with the
person who was once known as Fuma.

But
unlike the sunlight, which advanced slowly and dreamily - Subaru recoiled his
hand sharply. Subaru hadn't been
thinking.

The
onmyouji cradled his betraying hand to his stomach bewildered. Subaru had been
by Kamui's bedside a number of times and the chair he
sat in to watch over the boy had become a well-known friend.

Its
red velvet armrest bore the imprint of Subaru's elbows, the dig of Subaru's
fingernails when the onmyouji heard Kamui's harsh
breaths and saw Kamui's restless turning grow
desperate -- When
Subaru ached to soothe with gentle hands over Kamui's
fevered brows, or linger comforting fingers over a mouth that twisted and that
often cried "Fuma" or less frequently, but never a less
heart-rendering "Kotori" in a moan of grief.

But
Subaru must not touch. Caught in the sheets of an over-sized bed, bound in dreams,
Kamui was a boy torn apart by his own demons. Damaged.
Fragile like glass that may break.

Subaru understood.

++++

Early morning.

Black is slowly giving way to Gray.

In the silence, Subaru flees from the approaching light. He presses deeply
against the back of the chair, moving to embrace what was left of the lingering
shadows in the room, comforted by a darkness he is closely intimate with in one
man's absorbing amber
eyes - twin stars drowning in the night.

Beloved.

Hated.

But then, the sun suddenly breaks from the clouds through the window. The
star's true colour, summer gold, washes over the boy's pale form.

Kamui
makes a small noise and flings out his hand from underneath the sheets like a
reach, like a plea.

Kamui's forehead frowns in discontent. Subaru automatically
leans over, to tuck the sheet over that outstretched limb - Subaru is startled by lucent indigo
eyes. Vaguely, Subaru feels his hand slip over something far smoother and far
warmer than cotton bed sheets.

Subaru leaves his hand there.

Kamui blinks sleep away and the onmyouji smiles. Subaru clasps the warmth
underneath his fingers to let Kamui know the boy is not alone, but even when
Kamui

squeezes back, Subaru's heart, hidden in the dark cavern of his chest where
light can never reach, wonders:

Could its touch have pleased another?

Caught In a Storm

Seishirou-san had been careful. For that one year the blossom
assassin had cradled his possession jealously. Then he had dashed Subaru upon
cold pavement, trampled

over the shards of Subaru's heart like one would over a fallen leaf that had
lost all its novel colours and was nothing more than a dried withered shadow in
late autumn.

Seishirou-san can touch.

Sieshirou-san can take and let go, unchanged.

Subaru holds on, even when something sweet has become bitter, even when the
shards cut, even when they tattoo his skin in blood.

Even when the memory of kindness is all Subaru has.

Yes
kindness. The loving smile, the soft eyes, and all those warm
words.

Lies. The smile was a mask, the eyes were sharp and ever-noting
behind their appearance, and the words were outrageous lies.

Outrageous to his grandmother, outrageous to his then-still-alive
sister.
These women called out for war against their blood relative�s kidnapper when he
couldn�t.

Seishiro�s cruel scythe reached them both. It reached Subaru
as well. It merely grazed him, intentionally failing to kill him or rip
Seishiro out of his heart forever.

For
Subaru was caught in a storm with two wind directions, constantly blowing him
here and there, violently, mercilessly.

He
loved Seishiro with all his heart and hated him equally. His mind, just like Kamui�s, mulled over every bit of knowledge about Seishiro
for longer time then Kamui could�ve imagined doing with Fuma.

Kamui
was a glitter of light in the darkness of his life, a rope dangled at him to
help yank him out of the storm.

Only
Subaru was unsure as of his willing to take the rope. Nine years in the storm
cannot be denied or miniaturized by the fleeting hours, days and weeks he�s
spent in Kamui�s presence.

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

The Ever Observing predator

The
large leather sofa was most pleasing. Seishiro decided upon this as he tested its
softness and depth, sinking his back and rear in to the furniture�s limit. His
fingers gently caressed the smooth surface to judge the leather�s quality. Yes,
most pleasing.

He
noted, with great delight, a little silver ashtray placed upon the whitened
glass little coffee table at the left of the sofa.

When
they designed this little living room they surely thought of every need of
every Harbinger, whomever it was who did the designs. Seishiro thought he
remembered the blond one in the ridiculous pink suit babble something about the
living room as his doings. Seishiro was far too busy studying his Kamui to note
such petty little details at the time.

Yes.
His Kamui fascinated him, more then any human, other the Subaru, ever did.

Never
in his life did Seishiro encounter another predator who is his equal in cold
ruthlessness and carelessness. Never in his life did he observe another man in
his kill and found himself taking notes of what he should improve in his own
techniques.

Never
in his life did darkness allure him in such a sexual way.

Seishiro,
like a deep night insect, was mostly attracted to light during his life. He delighted
in taking delicate light in his hand and slowly crushing it like so many little
bulbs.

Subaru
was such a light; his pureness, his goodness, his heartfelt willingness to
sacrifice any part of him for another�s good. Since the younger one was nine
years old and the older one was an assassin beginner, this light and darkness
dance drew the onmyoujis together.

But darkness? Darkness was him, and Seishiro
always thought he sought out what was different to amuse him.

Yes.
His Kamui amused him, gave him hours on end of observation and admiring. The
more Seishiro observed his �Kamui�s kills was the
more he wished to be one (physically, Seishiro was no prey for cheap romantic
definitions) with this other top predator. He wished to have the younger man�s
body under his, to crush it a little and extract a look of total surprise, of
total submission.

Yes.
Seishiro was jealous of his �Kamui�s abilities. All
his sexual notions, his little trapping plans were, at their core, nothing but a
plan to make the youth submit to him and recognise him as the top predator.
Seishiro will yield to no one, especially not to some piece of cute ass who
could blast things more powerfully then him and walked straight into his
maboroshi once, countering his spell with such ease.

Seishiro
moved somewhat uncomfortably on the exquisite leather, itching for a cigarette.

Ah,
a cigarette. Cigarettes reminded Seishiro of Subaru. His
Subaru, his toy, his subordinate, his pet, his beautiful follower.
Subaru�s sudden choice to start smoking made Seishiro laugh for many long
nights, proud at this powerful imprint he carved into his prey.

That
is all Subaru was and all he will ever be to Seishiro, no matter what Seishiro
said or how he acted, didn�t change even at the face of random birthday gifts
and flower arrangements (always with a wild cherry branch at bloom dominating
the complicated ikebana mound) he sent his pet from time to time to watch
Subaru squirm. He indulged in these gestured only to reassure himself that no
one treaded the territory of Subaru�s heart, only to re-open the deep wound
that bound Subaru�s soul to him.

And
lately, much to Seishiro�s resentment, someone set
foot in his territory, someone was reaching out a helping hand to mend his toy
and bring him over into another�s love.

Shiro
Kamui. There was not one person on earth, other then Subaru in his appropriate
time, that Seishiro wanted to kill more.

If
only the little brat wasn�t the DoH�s Kamui, if only
he wouldn�t be surrounded by his fellow riff-ruffs, if he hadn�t spent most of
his days within the much protected walls of Clamp campus, Seishiro would have
caught the boy and ended his life easily.

That boy holding his Subaru�s hand. That
boy listening to Subaru�s troubles and comforting him. That boy making himself into the waif in need of protection for
Subaru to fuss around all the time.

Thinking
about it made Seishiro�s right hand fingertips ache
to feel skin break, giving way for the chest bone to crush, the heart to twitch
and stop, the blood to rush.

Seishiro
clutched his right fist, gritting his teeth before he took control over his
body again.

Not
even the brief conversation his Subaru had with Kamui over him made Seishiro
sure his pet was still holding him within his heart. He shouldn�t be talking to
the boy in the first place, shouldn�t listen to the brat when he told him to
put his cigarette out. So what if Subaru lit another cigarette right after
Kamui left? He put the first one out and that was quite enough to rouse Seishiro�s displeasure with Kamui.

As
if she heard his thoughts, Kanoe made a sound as she entered the large room. �Ah,
now that is interesting� she said.

Seishiro
ignored her. Like everybody else around him (with the slight distinction for
his �Kamui�), Kanoe was nothing but another waste of air, water and food on
legs.

Kanoe�s physically impossible high heeled shoes made tiny
clicks on the hard marble floor as she stepped deeper into the �living room�, shuffling
the small pile of incoming post in her hand. She held out a single envelope
which she, with a deep puzzled frown, scrutinized thoroughly under the nearest
elegant table lamp. �This is from Kamui,� she said in a low murmur �the DoH�s Kamui�

Seishiro
sharpened his hearing, as if to better note what she said might she say it
again.

�It�s
for our Kamui�.� She mumbled, flipping the envelope as
if it�s content might show through the white paper on its other side.

Seishiro
leaped off the sofa with speed he never knew he had for such mundane
situations. He walked up to the hardly dressed woman (she had the horrible habit
of unbuttoning her work suit whenever she came down here as if the more skin
she showed was the more evil she became) and carefully (as to not show too much
interest and care) took the envelope from her hand.

�To
Monou Fuma� was clearly written above the address sending the letter to Kanoe�s office.

�Well�
Seishiro shrugged the most careless and laid back way he could muster �I�ll
give this to �Kamui�. He�s out somewhere, chasing Kusanagi I think.� And before
she could object, Seishiro turned around and walked away from Kanoe, shooting a
single �Don�t worry about it� look at her.

Kanoe
stared after him a little bit longer, trying to wonder if it was smart or not
until she came to the conclusion that it didn�t matter. If Seishiro delivered
it then, well, what harm could it really do? She trusted her �Kamui�s determination about his role in destiny. And if
Seishiro did not deliver the note, what does it matter? Nothing.

She
did wonder how on earth the other Kamui knew of her address until she
reached the theory that he must have asked her sister to divine her location
and, knowing who she is, asking her to deliver the letter to her �Kamui�.

It
didn�t matter did it? Nope. She shrugged and shuffled on with the letters as
she walked towards her bedroom, stopping to throw the huge electricity bill�s
envelope into Satsuki�s refrigerator of a room.

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

Seishiro
slipped the letter into his jacket�s inner pocket and left the huge basement
and its building, heading towards his home. He stopped at a little coffee shop to
grab a to-go cup of extra strong coffee.

Often
he found that high quantities of caffeine, with their extreme stimulating
effect, gave him such a buzz that it flipped and calmed him. If he is to read
anything by The Brat he will need to be relaxed.

Inside
his home, Seishiro hung his jacket (after taking the letter out of it�s inner
pocket), eased himself into a pair of soft slippers, placed the steaming coffee
mug on his living room table, laid himself comfortably on the sofa, lit a
cigarette, placed both the ashtray and the cup within a lazy arm�s reach, wore
his reading glasses (the relatively early need for those always surprised
Seishiro) and began reading.

His
cat leaped to the sofa by him (on the side of him with no cigarette in it�s
hand) and stared at it�s owner checking to see if there�s a chance of getting
his dinner time tuna delight earlier the usual, which is worth the bother of
acting social.

His
owner was not in any condition to notice anything other then himself, the cat
understood, and so it leaped off the sofa and resumed his earlier task of
monitoring a stray moth trapped in the assassin�s apartment and waiting for the
insect to grow weak enough to be caught and eaten.

By
the end of the letter Seishiro finished his coffee and cigarette and was
desperately itching for new ones of both.

The
letter, written by a sloppy, hasty hand that showed its writer could not shake
off some residue of childish writing, read:

�Fuma.

I don�t know what came upon you, why it happened or how I can fight it
(eraser
marks here) out of you.

I do know that somehow it�s good, what came upon you that is. (Traces
of several erasing fits here) do you know what I think about it? Can you tell?

I (more eraser marks, fiercer now) hope you can. I hope you know what
you make me feel wh (more
violent erasing, depriving Seishiro of the sentence�s end) �

Seishiro
put the letter away. He was getting a little irritated at the thought of this
little brat not only playing with someone else�s toy but now stretching out to
grab said someone else�s potential toy.

His
eyes shot to the letter again, as if to glare at its writer then at the actual
paper. The word �room� caught his eye.

He
snatched the letter again and resumed his reading.

�I want us to talk about it. I want you to end my misery and come see
me to resolve these feelings I have. But we don�t have to talk.

(The
handwriting began shaking here) I will be at the Four Seasons tomorrow at 3:ooPM, in room 498.(a little more shaken) I will be
bound physically as I am bound to you emotionally.

(Terribly
shaken) Do with me as you wish.

(Not
shaken at all) yours always,

Shiro Kamui.�

Seishiro�s mind was a thoughtless vacuum. All he could do was
stare at the letter and blink.

Rage
came quickly to fill the void. How dare The Brat?! He reached out for the light
plastic coffee cup and, as it�s light weight informed
him of it�s lack of coffee, crushed it into a small plastic ball.

It
pleases him how the faint baby blue of the plastic seemed so painful and
disappointed in it�s new and deformed shape.

It was so innocent this coffee cup, expecting
it�s user to drink from it and toss it away, not crush it so violently.

Then
it hit him. The coffee must have not been quite strong enough to send him into relaxation,
only to linger in his neurons and stimulate them into quicker and quicker
thoughts.

Kamui
was the coffee cup; thinking he�s so darn cute and wanted, thinking that every
hand reaching towards him will be a loving one.

He
will go to the Four Seasons hotel and meet Kamui, he and not his �Kamui�, cruel
and bloodthirsty he and not the (possibly) passionate lover Kamui expected.

And
he will hurt Kamui, he will crush Kamui in his palm
just like this little coffee cup.

Oh,
tomorrow will be a glorious day for Sakurazuka Seishiro!

(tbc)
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