Renegade Children [chapter six]
Rated: a light R
Pairings: SakitoxMiyabi, AkiyaxIsshi, some vague smudges of NaoxShin beginning to form.
Bands: Kagrra, Due'le Quartz, random cameos.
Summary:

Prequel, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5



Renegade Children [chapter six: Breaking the Habit]

***

How will I do this?

Isshi stood in front of the door biting his lip, wondering how to commence. He hadn’t even knocked yet. How could he possibly just demand time of someone for such a frivolous thing? Who was to say he was even at home?

“Tatsuya… with the green eyes can help you. Find him. Let him have a real good look at you and your necklace.”

Well, this is where he lives… Bet he’s just not home though. Part of him wished he weren’t home so he could forget all about this and walk away. He’d tried, and the detective hadn’t been at home, oh well, I guess that’s the end of it.

He raised his fist and rapped a few times against the painted wood. And waited.

What do I say? he wondered, “Hey, my boyfriend’s brother is a dream reader and told me you knew something about my necklace?” “Just thought I’d waste your time looking at my jewelry -hey, by any chance, would it have something to do with why I was adopted??”
Forget it, this was all a waste of time. Better just go home, forget any of it had happened-

“Uh, hey, are you looking for someone?”

Isshi turned around and blinked. The faintest thought flitted across his mind; Oh, he is here. Dammit. “Ah, yeah. You actually…” Sheepishly, he lowered his eyes, resisting the urge to put his hand to his throat where the silky silver links rested -a nervous habit. The other man smiled, “Hey there …Isshi, right?” Isshi nodded. “I was just next door,” the taller one explained, “You wanna come in? Lets go-” He brushed past Isshi and opened the unlocked door.

*

“So… Is this a social visit?”

They were seated on Tatsuya’s cream-colored leather couch. The coffee table in front of them was stacked with magazine and newspaper clippings to one side, and two very thick books to the other. Isshi made out the title on the spine of the bottommost book -a huge, leather-bound affair with gold leafing in the embossed letters; The complete works of W. Shakespeare.

“Well, I don’t know,” Isshi replied honestly, “I was told you could help me with something, and-”
“Sorry, do you mind?” Tatsuya was poised, about to light a cigarette, “I don’t usually smoke, but I’ve been dying for one all day.”
Isshi smiled faintly and shook his head, “No, go right ahead.”
“Sure?”
“Really, it’s ok.”
Metallic click of the lighter, pause, exhale. “Ok, go on.” Light smirk of self-satisfaction.

“Well, I was told you could help me with something-” I think it’s best to leave out Nao and Akiya, just in case. “Someone told me that you knew …something about my necklace? I’ll be honest, I don’t really know where it came from, but I’ve always had it.” He mentally slapped himself for the white lie he’d supplied upon first meeting Tatsuya. He shifted position, turning to face the other man and fished the chain out from under his collar. Tatsuya leaned closer to peer at it, and absently removed the cigarette from his lips. “I’ll be damned…” he murmured, grasping the pendant and bringing it closer to inspect the intricate swirls and facets of silver. Isshi had to lean closer because the chain wasn’t that long and, blushing a bit, turned his head slightly upwards to avoid colliding with the engrossed detective.

“How long have you had this?”
“As far back as I can remember. Probably since I was born, I guess.” Isshi blinked, “The chain got bigger as I grew up. Really weird… But I never took it off or wanted to take it off.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Huh?”
“So it what? Added new links to itself?”
“Well, yeah.”

Finally Tatsuya sat back. “It’s funny,” he said, giving Isshi a stare that made him feel almost self-conscious, “Because I’ll let you in on a little secret. The kid I’m looking for is about your age, and his momma gave him that necklace just before they lost contact.” He took a drag on the cigarette. “Now. One of the following things is occurring. Someone saw that necklace and decided to make copies of it, sell it, and your adoptive parents bought you one. But.” He motioned pointedly with the white stick, “That doesn’t explain why it invents new links for itself. Which brings me to the next point; maybe you’re lying to me.”

“N-no, I’m not.” Isshi interjected, “What I’ve said until now is all true.”
“A liar would say that. But then again, a truth-teller might say that also.” His emerald eyes lowered their gaze to the necklace again, and he paused before sucking on the cigarette again.

“You know,” he said, blowing the smoke out gently, “You smell like a vampire.”
The eyes glanced up at him so mockingly, so testingly, it was almost enraging. That faint smirk returned. He was waiting for Isshi to crack. He continued.
“Of course, no human can smell it. Humans are innocent like that. But you…” He waved the cigarette pointing at the younger man. “Hmmmnn… You don’t smell like you’re lying. That’s good. I don’t like liars.”

Isshi glared back, trying to not look too guilty or hostile. If the guy knew something, no matter how weird he was, he wanted to get that information. The hell is he talking about??

Tatsuya leaned over towards the coffee table and put out the stick in a glass ashtray that was previously empty. “You live with a vampire, yes? Sleep with him too?” He chuckled to himself, “Don’t get so pissed off. And I know you are, I can see it in your eyes. You’re seething by now. It’s that other guy from the bookstore, isn’t it? I’m not into that sort of thing, but he might change my mind if he wasn’t yours already.”

Isshi restrained a furious growl -who did this guy think he was, to say so much about his life as if he knew anything of it?! And then to assume what he felt? Good god, this asshole had nerve, didn’t he? This was getting him nowhere, a complete waste of time. He stood up. “Look, if you’re going to just babble about my private life-!”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Isshi paused.
“Be here by three. I’ll give you some answers.”

Tatsuya returned to his calm, serious face, neither mocking or jeering, nor telling him any bull. Isshi nodded. “Thanks.” And then he left, feeling more confused and unsure than when he’d arrived there half an hour ago.

*

Click, flap, swing.

Izumi stepped out into the rain, pocketing his cell phone into his jacket for safekeeping, and adjusted his umbrella to shield him from the pouring water. His hair was pulled back in a tail with a few bits framing his face. He shrugged the strap of the bag on his shoulder, keeping his eyes focused on nothing in particular; if he didn’t look at anyone, then no one would look at him.

Less than half a block away from the hospital from whence he came, a quiet sound reached his ears and he keened on it. Brown eyes looked around, searching for the origin of the soft whimpers. Sounds like someone crying… None of the other people walking past him could hear it, and if they did, they seemed to not care. So, persistently, he followed the sound until it gradually became louder and clearer.

Indeed there was someone crying, a little girl, crouched in the shadows of a stone stairwell where the fading daylight couldn’t find her. A tuft of hair stuck up on one side, held by an elastic with dangling cube baubles, and her bangs, once pinned away, had fallen loose their barrette and were just as soaked as the rest of her. Little bare knees peeked out from under the hem of her school frock and she hugged her backpack like a lifeline.

“Hey little miss, are you alright?” Izumi crouched close to her to hold the umbrella over her head. She looked up, puffy eyed from crying, like a poor little lost soul. “I went to school today, but no one came to get me, and I don’t know how to go h-home.” Her voice quivered dramatically and she scrunched herself a little tighter around her backpack. Izumi looked around, spying a restaurant across the street, and turned back to her. “How about we go inside and dry off first? Then we can call your mom and dad. Whattaya say?” She sniffled, pushed a bit of wet hair from her forehead, and murmured a meek “ok.”

With that, he took her hand and led her to the restaurant. The hostess looked baffledly at them, but obeyed Izumi’s request for a warm towel and a cup of hot chocolate for the girl. He sat her on a bar stool and dabbed her face dry with a few paper napkins, despite the curious onlookers at the far corner of the bar.

“Do you know your phone number?” he asked, taking out his cell. She blinked and shook her head, about to cry again. “Don’t cry, it’s ok. I’ll call someone who’ll know. You’ll be alright.” He called the cops with the simple information that he’d found a lost girl, please come to this address, thank you and goodbye. Last thing I need is my face in the papers or my voice on the news… he thought wryly. The towel and drink arrived and he bundled her up in the terrycloth still heated from the kitchen and smelling faintly of parsley. “There,” he said, rubbing her arms through the towel, “Feel better? At least you’re a bit drier now, hm?” She nodded and even dared to smile a little while playing with the marshmallows in her cup. “Thank you,” she said, ducking her head shyly. He smiled and patted her on the head.

He stayed by her until the sound of a police siren sounded from outside in the parking lot, followed by silence, twin car doors slamming, and the crunch of footsteps on wet gravel. While she was preoccupied gulping down the last of her chocolate, he got up and made for the door, holding it politely for the two policemen that entered the building and then walked off without a word, flicking open his umbrella again.

*

The bar tender looked up and supplied a businesslike smile for the two officials that walked in. The little girl finished her drink and licked her lips before deciding to turn around and acknowledge the two behind her.

“Are you going to take me home?” she asked.
“Sure, honey. Your parents are on their way here.” said the younger, a man in his mid-twenties pretending to find her adorable. Really, she was keeping him from a soccer match between Italy and South Korea.
The woman in her late thirties asked, “Where’s the man that called the station? We’d like to speak to him.”
The girl shrugged. “He went out.”
“Did he buy you the drink? What did he look like?”
She smiled then and took her bag off the stool beside her.
“An angel.”

*

He didn’t go very far when a voice called out from under the overhang of a building. “That was really nice of you.”

Izumi stopped short and turned his head, looking for the person that had spoken. He found only a harmless punk-kid leaning on a wall toying with a cigarette, hoodie drawn up over his head and threads of bleached hair dangling limply in front of the shadowed face. He shrugged. “It was nothing. No one else seemed to hear her crying.” He was itching to get back home; he hated carrying the insulated bag on his shoulder that shifted with every tiny movement of the liquids within it.

“But you heard her.” pointed out the young man -he was older than Izumi had guessed at first. Flicker of blue under the blond shield; through the moist, heavy air, Izumi thought he could smell demon -just that peculiar scent that made one’s conscious feel weighted with a twinge of guilty sorrow. And under that, blood. Fresh blood. The lighter clicked, flickered, died, clicked again.

“Sorry, I have to go.”

With that, he turned sharply and continued briskly along his course home. Don’t look back. Do not look back. Leave it alone- But the thought that frightened him more kept repeating itself in his mind: “But you heard her.” When no one else had. He’s figured you out, just like that. You know that he knows, and he doesn’t care.

Shin was asleep on the couch, with his finch perched high up on the turned off ceiling lamp’s edge, chittering quietly to itself. He closed the door quietly and toed off his shoes, heading for the kitchen. The bag thumped mutedly on the countertop beside the fridge and he paused there. I can’t keep doing this. Milk-chocolate eyes glanced out the window at a swooping pigeon. The sunlight glinted off the green crest around its neck, and then it was gone. He unzipped the bag and opened the fridge. Reached into the bag, pulled out a plastic pouch filled with dark red, syrupy liquid, and placed it on the door shelf. Followed by another, and another, until the row was full of them and the bag was empty.

Izumi reached into the bag, feeling for any pouch he might have forgotten and found that one had split and leaked. The inside of the Mylar-coated lining was metallic red, and his fingers came away covered with the blood. He grimaced and shoved the bag into the sink, turning on the faucet with his clean hand and letting the water fill the bag to wash away the blood.

That’s what you smelled. This blood, not his. he tried to convince himself, No, he was bleeding, he was. He was! He let the water run soothing and lukewarm over his fingers, wash away the blood. It was him. Oh God, I can’t live like this anymore...

*

Tatsuya was waiting for him when he arrived the next day, at half-past two. Isshi had fought that morning with Akiya about going.

“How do you know he’s not just giving you a lot of stories? Next thing, he’ll be asking for money.”
“It won’t be your money. Who’s to say he’s not telling the truth?”
“The same way he suspected you?” The redhead’s tone became nastier with that statement.
“Well you’re being no better! Geez, why is it such a big deal to you if I go?”
“The same reason it’s a big deal to you! You don’t know the guy, yet you’re willing to take anything he says to you about your family?”
“If he knows anything, then I’m going to find out. Least you knew your mother.”

The green-eyed man welcomed him in, behaving as if what had been said the day before had never come to pass. Isshi said little, still faintly angry from the argument with his lover, and also the detective’s mockery the day before.

“Would you like to take a guess as to what I found out?” Tatsuya began diplomatically. Isshi shrugged. “I can’t guess; there are too many possibilities.” Tatsuya chuckled at that, earning an irked glance from Isshi. “That’s very true,” he said, “How philosophical of you.” Isshi mentally rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, what did you find?”

The detective cracked his knuckles. “To start small, the necklace is a particular kind of silver; faerie silver - stuff that’s stronger and far more resilient than diamonds, worth more than platinum, and laced with enough magic that it will tailor-fit its wearer. Some people would like to think it’s ‘alive’ but it’s not. It’s handmade, of course, and the rock is actually silver-encased quartz that was shaped beforehand. The whole thing is about twenty years old, took thirteen weeks to make.”

Isshi blinked. What Tatsuya had said registered with him, but what didn’t fit was that this was real life. “Faerie silver?” he questioned. Oh sure, he’d read all of Tolkein’s books, casually re-read passages of Laurel Hamilton and Terry Brooks; he lived with a vampire, had even met a half-angel, yet he didn’t believe what Tatsuya had just said. “You’re making this up,” he added, “A lot of things are real, but everyone knows if the fey really ever existed, they died out already.” He only realized the statement sounded foolish after he’d already said it.

Tatsuya looked like he was trying to suppress a bursting peal of laughter at that, but sufficed his humor with a small snort and continued. “Sure, if you buy what everyone says.” Isshi wisely became quiet again. “Look, you wanna know or not? Decide after I tell you if you want to believe it, but you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to find what you know is already waiting for you.”

Isshi sighed; “Continue.”

“Your mother lost you when you were still quite young, and she’s been looking for you for over a decade. I can’t give you the exact details as to why she misplaced you in the first place. I told her I’d found a perfect replica of her son last night, and she’d like to meet you.”
“…What can you tell me about her?”
“I can tell you to not fool yourself with human appearances. Your mother is not young at all by human standards, but she may look to you like a very young woman.” Tatsuya paused for a moment, waiting for a reaction, or an outburst, but nothing came. He continued.

“Since you seem to have an inkling of information about the fey, you should know we don’t age once we’re grown. She will never have white hair and loose skin, she will never stoop with wear, or have a failing body. Her hair is blonde, her eyes are brown. You would not understand the full concept of any Sidhe’s appearance until you see one with your own eyes, but I’m not criticizing you. Rarely have any of us ventured out into the human world for very long, let alone have we been raised among them.”

Isshi glanced him over, still feeling skeptical. He was well aware that Tatsuya was deliberately being vague. “And I’m supposed to believe you with what proof, exactly?” After all, he did have the right to ask, didn’t he? For all he knew, Tatsuya could be clean out of his mind…

Tatsuya rolled his green, green eyes as if Isshi were a child asking too many questions. “What, pray tell, would you accept as proof?” He wasn’t about to give this kid a glance at something that had been revered and mythed over for millennia; he still wanted to keep his guard up, just the way Isshi was. Why is it that he doesn’t know who he is, and yet he looks so mortal anyway??
“Don’t elves… you know, have magic or something?” Isshi asked timidly.
“First tell me something,” the detective said in a sudden streak of fair-trade, “Who told you to see me? How did you know it was about your necklace?”
“I… It was a dream reader that told me. He said you would know something about my necklace was connected to my family.” If Tatsuya could be vague, so could he. “I had a dream once, a very long time ago,” Isshi said quietly, “I think it was of my real parents. I want to meet them…” I want to believe him… I want to hear what he says…
A sweet-faced young woman with long blonde hair stroking his face, brown eyes warm with compassion. She sweetly cooed his name; “Isshi… Isshi, my baby…” A young man, blonde as well, touched her waist, put his arm around her and bent to kiss the baby’s head. His eyes were very dark.
“Fair enough.” Isshi looked up, wondering what he meant.

Tatsuya got up and walked to the other side of the room where upon the bookshelf was a potted, withered stem that looked as if it had lost all will to grow again. He carefully picked up the ceramic container and brought it to the table, set it down before Isshi. “This is, or was, rather, an orchid. It’s pretty much almost dead as you can see.”

Isshi nodded, looking at the dried, semi-brownish stem and crackled leaves, the damp earth and the ring of river pebbles around the edge of the pot. He watched as Tatsuya put his hand out, touched the base of the stem. He didn’t know what to expect, but something about what the self-proclaimed elf in front of him was doing struck a bell in him. A sparrow, he realized, That poor little bird… I remember doing this. And right before his eyes, he saw the color draining into the stem from the fingertips and the root up, the liquids filling the tissues and making them green and firm again. The stem came back to life and stood erect, the old leaves fallen off were now budding, unfurling, spreading open in fresh leafy-green palates. The pinnacle of the stem formed short green branches, buds. The buds changed color as they matured at hyper speed and then suddenly burst open in a flash of pale pink and yellow and fuscia.

“If this is a parlor trick to you…” Tatsuya looked up. His eyes were different, multiple shades of green and they flashed for an instant so quickly, Isshi almost thought they were glowing. Then they returned to their lesser emerald green.

Isshi shook his head. “That’s ok… I think I’ll believe you now.” His heart felt like it had ceased beating, though it was fine. “It’s true, then, that you still exist…” Dark eyes lowered and he smirked humorlessly to himself. “And all I knew was fiction. Don’t I feel dumb.”

“The majority of our race was… well, not quite banished from Europe,” Tatsuya began, “But it was made clear we weren’t that welcome there either. That was nearly a thousand years ago, and most humans remember us as legend at best. The western European side eventually made it to the New World, or went into hiding in smaller countries that would have them, but the eastern Europeans and most of the Asian side managed to survive. We passed into legend, myth, religion.

He smiled roguishly, “We were the stars of the Nihon no Kojiki.”

Isshi couldn’t help laughing at his childish pride for such an ancient story. Suddenly, some things were slowly starting to make sense.
“Humans like to call us fairy tales, just like vampires, angels and the like. That’s only because when they have seen us, it’s such a shock that they don’t want to believe it. Occasionally someone will form a relationship with one of us, and learn a bit and write about it, but no one ever takes it seriously.” His tone became drier, “Thank god humans are so blind, or we really would be extinct.”

The dark-eyed man sat in deep thought, allowing what the detective had said to register, sink in, and possibly try to connect with it. Tatsuya was solemn, watching him, ever studious of Isshi’s every movement, and listening to him speak. Why can I not sense his magic? I feel the necklace, and her spell on it, but… why not his? Has he lived here for so long that his magic has completely died??
“Then… I am not human?” he asked, barely making it a question.
“If you are your mother’s child, then you are not.”
“And you know I’m her child?”
“She is the mother. She will know for certain.”

Questions began buzzing in Isshi’s mind, and he was afraid to open his mouth to speak even one. “How long… have you been looking for me?” he asked, and was faintly astounded with himself for asking, but wasn’t sure why. He was thoughtfully looking at the orchid, blooming beautifully as if entirely pleased to exist. Tatsuya sat on the floor, gazing out of the window at the streaks of blue and white sky.

“Ten years. Your mother wasn’t able to relocate you for several years after you’d been exchanged, but she knew you were alive. Once again, that’s another tie to your necklace.”
Vibrant eyes slid back over to Isshi. Piercing. They knew too much and weren’t sharing.
“What do you mean exchanged?” The younger man asked suspiciously.
“One taken for another,” Tatsuya replied, almost evading the question altogether, “She tried for a few years… but the human world is not for her. I was asked to resume in her stead.”
Black eyes turned away, arms crossed. The fantastical truth and giddiness was beginning to shift back to distrust. Human ideals were turning him away from what he inwardly felt himself wanting to believe.

But believe why? he demanded. Almost immediately, his skin prickled and the minute hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end. He shivered, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Somehow it makes sense… I can’t figure out just how, but it rings a bell… The next shiver was cut short and the air felt light, clean and fresh and scentless, and warmer, though at first it seemed otherwise. He turned back to Tatsuya with a sharp turn of his head. “What are you doing to me?”

The detective smiled innocently. “Doing? What would I be doing? I’m sitting here, waiting for you to come to a decision.”
Isshi didn’t buy it. “What would I be deciding on? And you are doing something. I don’t know what.”
“Am I?” The elder man sat up, as if shocked to be accused of any such thing. “Do tell me what I’ve done wrong, and I’ll do my best to appease you.”

Isshi seemed confused for a moment and closed his eyes, passing a hand over their lids. He felt that shivery feeling again, creeping up on him like a fictional nightmare from a horror movie. “I don’t know,” he stated firmly, “There’s just a weird feeling in the air, and it feels like it should be your fault.” You don’t believe that… Stop trying to put the blame on someone else for your mistakes! You’re wasting his time and your own. Go home. Go back to your usual life. There’s nothing for you here but tall tales and a wack-job.

“Are you sure you’re not just doubting yourself?” supplied the one on the floor, “You want to believe what I’m saying, don’t you?? It’s fifty-fifty, and you can’t decide, isn’t it-?”
“Stop!”

Isshi’s head snapped up and he glared at the Sidhe. “You’re doing this. Quit showing off, or whatever it is that you’re trying to do! You’re trying to fuck around with my head, and I just want to sort things out, I’m confused, my boyfriend thinks you’re a nut job, I’m tired, and would you quit working your goddamn magic on me!!”

Tatsuya burst out laughing -honest to goodness, belly-shaking laughter. Isshi just stared at him, wide-eyed in shock both from the laughter, as well as his own outburst. Realization was beginning to settle upon him. What did I just say?! His thoughts didn’t rattle along that path for long, because Tatsuya was quickly recovering from his laughter.

“Oh my Lord,” he giggled, and this too began to fade, “You are good!” He took a moment to sober himself, and then looked at his watch and it seemed he would burst into peals of laughter again. Isshi tuned into reality again and began to feel quite self-conscious, wondering what could have possibly been so funny. Although, granted, the feeling had gone away, and he almost wanted to laugh with Tatsuya, just because. Almost.

“Twelve and a half minutes,” the green-eyed man informed him.
“Until…?” Isshi felt like he’d completely lost track of everything.
“That’s how long it took for you to come right out and say it!” The detective grinned. “Humans are funny if you do that to ‘em. They get paranoid, or start yammering about stuff they think they’ve forgotten to do. One guy kept swatting the air, thought it was a bug bothering him.”
“Say…?? That you were working magic?”
Emphatic nod.
“You were?” The younger looked equal parts intrigued and puzzled. “What were you doing?”
“Mostly just bugging you. Making it hard for you to concentrate, swaying your thoughts here and there.”
“Oh… Bloody thanks. I still feel addled.”
“It’ll go away soon, give it a few minutes.”

Tatsuya grinned. “Y’know… Normal humans,” he began, “They don’t ever realize what’s going on.”
“Ever?” Tiny particle of hope.
“Say you’d actually been mortal… You might be writing down a list of pros and cons based on what we were just talking about. And you’d excuse yourself to me, probably because your lack of concentration was ‘due to lack of sleep’.”
“Then it means something? That I figured you out?” Isshi enquired, then added, “Were you testing me?”
“Yes… and yes you did, and yes I was.”

The Sidhe stood and picked up the orchid’s pottery base. A flower petal fluttered back onto the table, pretty pinky-violet hues. Isshi reached for it without thinking, but was halted by Tatsuya’s voice. “I’ll contact your mother and see what she has to say regarding this. If it’s to her satisfaction, you’ll be allowed to meet her. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s nearly dinner time and I’ve got a hot date, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

Isshi nodded, even though the elder man couldn’t see the gesture, and got up, pausing to pull out his keitai to check the time. He turned to Tatsuya on his way to the door. “Um… Thanks. For what you’ve done so far.”

***

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For more information, check out Sinless Prototype.