Disclaimer: We don't own X. If we did, it possibly would be even weirder. CLAMP owns X.
Authors' Notes: By request, here is the sequel, at last. I figured out a way to put the footnotes in there, so you get the complete version this time. Aren't you happy? I thought you would be. Okay, I'm done now.
X: The Lost Scene Series
Part II
Fuuma and Seishirou Go for Malts
Kuroi Kaze and Midorino Mizu
Chapter I: In Which Seishirou Receives a Deceptively Normal Message on His Pager
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–
"All right, all right…" Seishirou slammed his hand down violently on his pager and stretched, knocking his bedside alarm clock onto the floor.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeee-
A well-placed foot dispatched it neatly. He yawned again and tried to make his eye focus on the message on the screen.
"Meet at north gate of Ueno Park in 15 minutes to discuss upcoming activities." He shrugged and dropped the annoying device onto the ruins of his clock. "Not now…too early…"
As he dropped his back onto his pillow, he heard a very annoyed, as well as annoying, voice in his head.
"Goddamned soul-sucking vegetation," he grumbled as he very reluctantly slid out from between his black cotton sheets. "No consideration whatsoever."
He had the distinct impression that the Tree couldn’t care less about his opinion.
Chapter II: In Which Fuuma Goes to an Appointment
One of the perks of living in the fairly large basement of the Tokyo Metropolitan Building was the massive amount of closet space available, especially if you were rather pushy and, let’s face it, really intimidating when you wanted to be. Or even when you weren’t really trying.
At the moment, Fuuma, who had awakened at his customary early hour, (1) was now checking out his closet devoted to his various coats. Hmm. He rather thought he’d go with the cherry red one today. It was quite festive, and Seishirou had mentioned that it was one of his favorite colors.
It never hurt to try and impress a date. Even if he didn’t know he was going on a date.
Having made his major wardrobe decision of the day, Fuuma breezed out of his spacious bedroom, and smiled down at Nataku (3).
"Daddy’s going out now. Be good for Baby-sitter Satsuki (4)."
At this, the cyber-girl scowled, and BEAST stirred uneasily. Fuuma was angering their Satsuki, but they knew from experience that messing with the /Kamui/ was Not A Good Idea, and would probably result in getting their virtual asses kicked. Both in a virtual and painfully real sense.
Fuuma smiled and waved cheerily at Satsuki. "Thanks for the Sakurazukamori’s pager number." Satsuki smirked. She had not missed the fact that Seishirou was less than fully functional in the early mornings. It had been a source of amusement in the past, and it continued to be: BEAST had recordings. (5)
Fuuma walked out into the crisp Tokyo air. It was such a shame that he had no kekkai to destroy today. But, he decided, ruining Seishirou’s entire day was very nearly as much fun.
As he wandered towards Ueno Park, he contemplated how many cigarettes he should steal from Sakurazuka-san.
Chapter III: In Which One of Our Anti-Heroes is Quite Annoyed
Having somehow managed to shower, and find a fairly unwrinkled suit, Seishirou was now waiting. He disliked waiting.
With an impatient huff, he slid a cigarette out of his brand-new pack. He lit it, and was about to take a long, relaxing drag, when suddenly, it wasn’t there any longer. He narrowed his eyes, (6) a nagging suspicion rearing its strikingly attractive head.
"Ohayo, Seishirou-san." Seishirou closed his eye(s); the pain was building behind his right eye again. Fuuma grinned behind his Sunglasses and knocked some virgin ash off the as-yet unsmoked cigarette. "Beautiful day."
"Yes," stated Seishirou with deceptive calm. Or, at least, what he thought was deceptive calm.
"Oh, don’t be like that, you know you’re glad to see me."
Seishirou cast a sidelong glance at the younger man and groaned inwardly. He just knew he’d worn red on purpose. Fuuma, not missing a thing, turned a little to the side to show it off a bit more.
At that moment Seishirou decided he was buying Subaru a red coat for his birthday. And not Subaru’s birthday.
Chapter IV: In Which Our Anti-Heroes’ Ultimate Destination is Discussed
Fuuma shook off a few more precious millimeters of wasted, useless ash. Seishirou watched them flake off into the wind. Fuuma grinned. "Malts?"
Seishirou let out a barely noticeable twitch.
Chapter V: In Which Our Anti-Heroes Begin Their Journey
"I’m feeling lazy today, Seishirou. Let’s take the subway."
Chapter VI: In Which We Meet the Anti-Anti-Heroes
Sumeragi Subaru was indulging in his weekly dose of non-angst. It was the only way he could maintain a thin patina of sanity.
Perhaps, he thought, he could make it through the day without running into either Seishirou or…
"Subaru-san!"
Kamui.
Subaru surreptitiously rubbed his temples before turning and giving Kamui his customary sad-but-infinitely-understanding-semi-smile (7). He was thinking of patenting it.
"Where are you going, Subaru-san?" Kamui was breathless, and had probably been running after him for several blocks.
Subaru didn’t think he was going to go to the amusement park today to do tarot readings after all, so he just shrugged. "A walk," he stated in his usual monotone.
Kamui, having stopped running, was still trying to catch his breath, as he still hadn’t recovered from his last bout of "Playtime with Fuuma." His breath, therefore, would not allow him to use it for anything as silly as speech. He fell into step beside Subaru, trying to appear like he wasn’t trying to catch his breath, which as we all know, just makes it all the more obvious.
Subaru cast a faintly amused look at the fifteen-year-old. "Would you like to sit down somewhere, Kamui-kun?" he asked solicitously. He was, after all, endlessly polite. His sister had always told him it was his downfall.
Which wasn’t quite the case.
Kamui shook his head. "No, I’m fi--" A short bout of coughing interrupted him, but he managed to convey through arm motions that he was perfectly capable of continuing on, though present circumstances didn’t indicate so.
Subaru contemplated his options. Kamui was not going to be able to make it very far in this state. He could carry him, he supposed, but, really, he was trying to avoid giving the violet-eyed boy any encouragement. Besides, he reasoned that given his luck, carrying Kamui would lead directly to his encountering Seishirou. Or Fuuma. Or both.
He didn’t realize that no actions of his, or lack thereof, would prevent that particular eventuality.
There was a nice-looking malt shop up ahead. That should be safe enough.
Chapter VII: In Which Our Anti-Heroes Reach the End of Their Journey
There was one thing in Tokyo that was eviler than either Fuuma or himself, Seishirou thought. And that was the public transportation system.
"Will it make you feel better if I let you destroy this kekkai?"
"No."
As enthralled as they’d been, Seishirou did not appreciate clouds of giddy schoolgirls clustering around him. Damn estrogen. He surreptitiously examined his coat; he hoped it hadn’t been stained. Or ripped. (8)
Fuuma, who hadn’t been bothered by clouds of giddy schoolgirls, as his Evil Sunglasses of SexinessÔ had merely slain any that approached him, smiled. "Here we are."
Seishirou looked up to perceive the most stereotypical 1950s malt shop imaginable. All that was missing were cars with wings and greasy teenagers. "Excuse me?"
Fuuma didn’t seem to hear as he strode in. Muttering very uncomplimentary things under his breath about Fuuma, the Tree, his pager, and the world in general, Seishirou followed.
Fuuma walked up to the counter and smiled lazily at the girl behind the counter, dressed as a pink lady. She was unfazed. This confused Fuuma, visibly.
"I’m a lesbian. I don’t do guys."
"Oh," said Fuuma. "Well, that’s okay, I don’t do girls. Can I get a hot fudge malt, with two straws please?"
The girl eyed Seishirou, who was standing in the middle of the floor, trying to look inconspicuous. "Want extra whipped cream with that?"
Fuuma grinned. "You read my mind." She grinned back.
"I’ll throw in a few cherries too."
"Excellent."
Seishirou eyed the conspiring looks they were giving each other and decided that he really wanted to die. But he wasn’t going to until he’d chopped down that damn snickering Tree.
/You think you’ll be the first to try that one, Sakurazukamori?/
Which just made Seishirou scowl a bit more.
Chapter VIII: In Which Our Anti-Anti-Heroes Arrive a Remarkably Similar Destination
Fuuma accepted the malt from his new friend and went to sit down. It being a stereotypical malt shop from the 1950s, the bar stools were sparkly blue and edged in silver tubing, around a table perhaps a foot and a half in diameter. There were also some very typical and comfortable booths, which went unnoticed as Fuuma perched on one of the stools and beckoned at Seishirou.
Seishirou hated being beckoned.
Nonetheless, he followed Fuuma, rather sullenly, and sat down on a matching stool across from the Antichrist. He eyed the chocolate malt askance. He didn’t really expect him to…
"Yes, Seishirou. Now are you going to ruin this date?"
Seishirou really wanted to answer yes. But he decided that might not be the wisest of ideas. So he just accepted a ridiculously long spoon from Fuuma and looked at the malt. There was nearly as much whipped cream as glass. And…was that five cherry stems poking through at intervals through the white?
Yes, he decided, it was. Well, at least at this point things couldn’t get much worse.
Glingleglingleglingle.
Seishirou glanced up and met a pair of rather shocked bright green eyes. Then again…
Fuuma turned to see what Seishirou was staring at, and his Sunglasses glinted as he spotted his twin star and favorite playmate. This had the potential to be much fun.
Chapter IX: In Which Our Two Parties Remain Where They Are
Neither Subaru nor Kamui had managed to speak a word yet. Fuuma eyed the whipped cream speculatively. He wondered if it would be possible to make all three of them even more speechless. Delicately scooping some cream up, he managed to eat it in such a provocative manner, the ancient spirits of innocence that resided in the malt shop were offended. Swallowing and licking the spoon, he grinned. "Konnichiwa, Kamui-kun. Subaru-san."
"Nice spoon work," his new friend called from across the room. He winked at her. She winked back. Always nice to meet a kindred spirit. He’d kill her last.
Subaru blushed furiously, but attempted to remain calm and collected. (9) "G-Good Afternoon, Seishirou-san. Fuuma-san." At the very evil glare he received from the latter, he gulped and quickly corrected himself. "/Kamui/-san." Kamui pouted reflexively, as he always did when Fuuma was referred to as /Kamui/. It was his name, dammit.
Seishirou smiled slightly. A stammering, blushing Subaru put him on much more familiar territory. "Subaru-kun." As always, managing to make it sound much more provocative than it really had any right to be.
There was no escape, Kamui and Subaru realized simultaneously. The question, however, was how best to deal with the situation. They simply stood in the doorway, befuddled, until Kamui got a distinctly evil look in his purple eyes. He leaned up (painfully) and whispered in Subaru’s ear.
The Sumeragi’s eyes widened to close to the size they had been when he was sixteen, and he initially shook his head "no" at Kamui’s suggestion. Then again, it was past time Seishirou got some of his own back.
"We’ll have what they’re having, miss," called Subaru. Then he turned back to Seishirou, who was eyeing him with definite suspicion.
"I’m hurt, really, Seishirou-san." Subaru wiped away an imaginary tear. "You swore you’d never share an ice cream product with anyone but me." Judging from the look Seishirou was giving him, he would pay very very big for this later, but to hell with it. It was going to be worth it.
Kamui pondered what he was going to do. He certainly wasn’t going to be able to faze Fuuma. He was actually fairly intelligent, and he knew when someone had the better of him. Maybe…
"F-Fuuma?" asked Kamui timidly. The older boy lifted a single black eyebrow. "Can I try your malt?"
This was unexpected, which Fuuma didn’t particularly care for. But he wanted to see what Kamui had in mind.
"Certainly, Kamui. Here." Fuuma lifted his own spoon to feed the younger boy.
He was not expecting the sudden flood of cold ice cream into his lap. Stunned into temporary silence, Fuuma stared at him. Kamui smiled sweetly at him.
"Yummy." And backed toward the relative safety of Subaru.
Fuuma wiped the ice cream off his lap with a napkin. "You can stop now."
Seishirou wiped his eyes. "I’m not…sure I can, actually," he replied before laughing hysterically once again. "I just…the way he…" He was beyond words. Fuuma glared silently at him before looking over at his new friend. She wasn’t faring any better.
"Maybe I won’t kill her last," he muttered before throwing the ice-cream soaked napkin at Seishirou.
Subaru eyed the two Angels. "I think we’ll be going now." As he hustled Kamui out the door, Seishirou and Fuuma could both hear the question he posed to the Dragon of Heaven.
"Just what kind of drugs do they have you on, anyway? And where can I get some?"
Chapter X: In Which One of Our Anti-Heroes is Annoyed and the Other Cannot Stop Laughing
Fuuma sat back on his stool, arms folded. "Are you finished yet?"
Seishirou had managed to stumble over to the counter, where he and Fuuma’s formerly new friend were reminiscing over what had just happened in bursts of speech between bouts of teary laughter. From their lack of response, Fuuma deduced they weren’t. He sighed and plucked a cherry out of the front of his jacket, idly twisting the cherry stem into new and strange shapes with his tongue.
Managing to gain some measure of control over himself, Seishirou cast his gaze up and down Fuuma’s now chocolate stained red trench. "You might want to get that to a dry cleaners. Chocolate is notoriously difficult to get out of wool."
"Is it." Seishirou cleared his throat and walked back over to the table. Remarkably, by the time he got there all traces of his previous hysterics had vanished.
"Yes. It is."
Fuuma stared at him for a moment before removing the cherry stem from his mouth. It was pentagram-shaped. With the circle included. Seishirou blinked.
"That’s…nice."
"I know."
Seishirou contemplated the rather steely look in Fuuma’s eyes. It was, he decided, time to get very far away.
Fuuma picked up another cherry and started sucking on it. Very. Slowly.
Yes. It was definitely time to go. Now.
Seishirou got up and dusted off his coat. It had blue glitter on it. "Thank you for the very…entertaining afternoon–date," he forced himself to say, though he did wince at the word. Fuuma just stared. And sucked. Seishirou cleared his throat and departed as quickly as possible.
Fuuma continued to stare after him.
Maybe Subaru would let him stay at his apartment tonight.
Footnotes: