In the clear evening light a lone sakura petal drifted over the trees of the CLAMP Campus. The lazy warmth of the afternoon sun transformed its pale pink; darkening the color to the deeper red of dried blood. Gently it settled in the outstretched hand of a man leaning against the tree from which it fell. After examining the it for a moment through the dim light, he clenched his fist, crushing the delicate petal his fingers enclosed. After a moment, unclenching his fist, he let it fall from his palm; illusion spoiled, and it’s soft flesh bruised, the petal drifted down to rest on the grass beside the man. With a sigh, he turned to leave, further crushing the abused symbol of his past with the retreating heel of his tennis shoe. As he turned to make his way back to the high walls and imposing windows of the Imonoyama mansion, the petal remained: bruised and broken, torn and crushed into the ground. “Ironic,” muttered Subaru to himself, squinting against the failing light.

Lost in his thoughts, Subaru was unaware that he was being watched. Kamui stayed carefully out of view until he was sure the object of his attention was gone. The Sumaragi was always withdrawn, but in the last few days his isolation and uncommunicativeness had been almost extreme. Though he always treated the other seals with the utmost respect, his presence was that of a ghost. Washed out, and pale, Subaru seemed to have become even more consumed by his past, and inwardly focused since his dive into Kamui’s subconscious. Kamui slowly walked to the tree where Subaru had been leaning. He crouched down on his heels, balancing between exposed roots, and lifted the petal to examine it. When Subaru had come into his mind, to coax Kamui out of his catatonic state, he had shared some of his own pain with the younger seal. Staring at the petal in his hand, Kamui was aware of the significance it heald for Subaru. In his thoughts he could still see the drift of the sakura petals . . . their beauty contrasting with the violence of the scene under the tree; a handsome man cradling the body of a young girl, hand buried deeply in her bloody chest.

Despite the weight of his own sorrow and guilt, Kamui now felt the Sumaragi’s pain as keenly as his own. Subaru had given him so much, shared so much of himself, and yet Kamui could not even find the courage to thank him. He was afraid that thanking him would only bring the events of that day back more clearly to the older man. The pain he saw etched unalterably behind the once bright eyes was a constant reproach. He was the cause of everyone’s problems. It was his fault that Katori had died, it was his fault that Subaru had been forced to re-experience the Hokuto’s death. And though Kamui knew that he could never make a difference in that sad man’s life, he felt touched by the pain they shared.

Kamui dropped the petal and rose in frustration. Hands on narrow hips, he stood, staring towards the mansion, purple eyes blazing in the sun. He was so ineffectual. He was Kamui, he of all people should have the power to do something. But yet, every time he was called upon to act, he was immobilized, useless. He had thought he didn’t care about the fate of the earth. He didn’t ask to be involved in the “final day”. And yet, here he was, trapped into a role he couldn’t even begin to know how to fill.

“Fuck,” thought Kamui as he scuffed the petal further into the ground and started to trace Subaru’s footsteps back in the now quite dim light. He was sick of it. Sick of being forced to care about things he would rather ignore, sick of all the expectations the others held for him. Sick of the disappointment he knew they felt. He wished he had never come to Tokyo. Katori would still be alive, Fuuma would still be the star of the Basket Ball team, and Subaru… Subaru… would still be in pain. But at least Kamui wouldn’t have to know about it.

“But I am glad that I know.” Kamui was almost startled by his thought’s interjection. It wasn’t something he had realized before, but the realization was true. He was glad that he knew. He resolved that he would try to do something to thank the Sumaragi for his help. At the very least, Kamui should be able to manage that, after all Subaru had done for him.

The opportunity refused to present itself. All that evening Kamui waited to find Subaru alone. At dinner most of the seals were present. Karen and Aoki Seiichiro were out, of course, but Yuzuriha, Sorata, and Arashi were all there, adding their incessantly jarring loudness to the scene, making any sort of serious thought impossible. Several times, across the wide table, Kamui tried to catch the Sumaragi’s eye, but Subaru somehow managed to avoid the contact. “A whole meal without once glancing at the person across from you,”,Kamui thought in disgust. Leave it to Subaru to manage that. After picking at his food for the bare minimum of time dictated by courtesy, Subaru excused himself from the table, gathered his white coat from the hall, and left the building all together. In his frustration Kamui didn’t even have the presence of mind to follow the older man out. He slumped in his chair, jabbing almost violently at the remaining food on his plate, lost in thought.

He was startled out of his reflections some time later by an unwelcome hand on his arm and the high pitched though well-meaning voice of Yuziriha.

“Are you done with that already, Shiro-kun?”

He stared at her for a moment startled.

“ . . .”

“Cuz if you are, I could take it, and bring you some pie, OK? It’s really good and everybody else is done with their dinners now. By the way is something wrong with you? Because you haven’t really been saying much today. Are you still hurt? Because I thought you were all better now, but maybe we should get you looked at again, cuz I don’t think you’re looking so good…”

The last thing Kamui wanted was to extend his dinner with the other Dragons of Heaven to a pie fest around the coffee table so he decided he’d better escape to his bedroom for the time being, and re-think his plans for approaching Subaru.

“Uh. No thanks. I’m fine. Really. I’m going upstairs.”

“Well at least come in and get some pie, Akira-kun made it and you know how good everything he makes is, especially his sweets, and you didn’t eat much of your dinner anyways and you really should eat more, Shiro-kun!”

And grabbing his arm with one hand, she snatched up his plate with the other and propelled him into the brightly lit kitchen. The kitchen was surprisingly cozy and intimate for such a large residence, thought Kamui. Though he was relatively sure there must be other cooking facilities on the premises somewhere, (as the Imonoyama mansion routinely entertained hundreds of guests at a time,) he had only been inside the one, small, almost family like kitchen.

Sorata looked up and smiled brightly at Kamui’s entrance through a mouthful of pie, waving his fork enthusiastically through the air, crust crumbs flying. Kamui glanced around the warm room at the welcoming faces of his companions, and it just made him want to get away, up to his private room all the more. He wished he could share in their cheer and lighthearted jokes about Sorata’s unwelcome advances on Arashi, but in his current mood he felt estranged from the other seals. It seemed like their very presence was accusing him, pointing out all his inadequacies and shortcomings. He felt like they ought to be out doing something, instead of leaning on granite counters and flirting. Flirting…why did that monk even bother? Even if his attention was well received, (which it wasn’t) there certainly wasn’t time before “the end” for either party to enjoy a romance. What was the point of caring about anyone when each day brought further risk, and the likelihood of violent deaths loomed over them all? Any close attachments only brought the probability of more pain.

These thoughts dried up any remaining desire Kamui had to chum it up with the other seals, and he started to edge his way to the door.

“Hey, Kamui! Where’re ya goin’?”

Caught.

“I’m not feeling very well, Sorata. I’m going up to bed.”

The other seals gave him concerned looks, but he assured them that he was just tired, and that he would feel fine in the morning. Suspicious, but apparently satisfied, they let him go, but not before Yuzuriha pushed a large slice of banana cream pie on him, “For a midnight snack, Okay? In case you get the munchies! You really should eat more!”

Kamui finally managed to extricate himself from the company of the others into the relative calm of the hall. He really wasn’t feeling like dealing with anyone right now, and he figured his best bet would be to retire to his bedroom, as he had indicated he would. If they thought he was sleeping at least they wouldn’t disturb him again tonight.

Part 2

pitas