Every Action Has A Reaction

"Hey! Auron! Hold up!" A loud voice carried across the courtyard to the young man leaving the Arrillaga Family Sports Center.

"Jecht!" Headed for the parking lot and still dressed in his gi, Auron had a red duffle bag with the Stanford University Logo stitched on it slung over his right shoulder. He turned his head toward the sound of the voice. Changing direction mid-stride to cross Campus Boulevard, Auron met the older man half way.

Jecht was dressed in a pair of gray shorts and a cardinal red sweatshirt that read "Stanford Water Polo." He grinned. "When are you gonna stop doing that pansy martial arts shit and come get in the water?"

Auron rolled his eyes. "Never. After three years of trying to get me to play, you should know that." He clapped a hand to Jecht's shoulder and the two men turned as one toward Auron's car. "What are you doing here? I thought the team had a game."

"I don't wanna talk about it." Jecht's face fell. He was clearly sulking. In the three years he had been coaching the Water Polo team this was the first season they hadn't been ranked. The fact that Indiana University was in the top ten and he couldn't get the squad on the top twenty list burned him. "We got our asses handed to us."

"Sorry to hear that." Swinging the duffle from his back to his chest, Auron unzipped a small compartment and dug around for his keys. "So, you still haven't said why you're here."

"Looking for you." Jecht had met Auron at a mixer three years ago sponsored by the Chemistry Department. His wife, a member of the faculty, had drug Jecht along kicking and screaming. Auron, fresh out of Berkeley, was doing a dual masters in Finance and Chemistry. He'd shown up at the party on a whim and looked rather out of his element. For some reason, Jecht had taken an instant liking to him. After a few chance run-ins on campus, the two went out for beer and became fast friends in spite of the ten-year age difference.

"What for?" An eyebrow arched up in interest and Auron put the key in the lock of his black Ford Mustang convertible.

"The wife is having one of her cocktail parties. You gotta save me." Jecht shrugged and added, "Besides, you're gonna graduate in a few weeks. You'll get some cushy job with a big company and you won't have time for an old jock like me anymore."

Auron laughed. "Jecht, I'll always have time for you." He opened the door and tossed the duffel in the back of the car. "Get in. I'll put the top down. I've got to go to Japantown and pick up some books for my father, but after that I'm free all night."

"No shit? Don't you have to work on your labs?"

Shaking his head, Auron put the keys in the ignition and pushed a button on the dash. The soft top of the car started to roll back and stow itself. "Nope. All done. I turned in my final analysis to your wife earlier today and I feel like celebrating. Drinks are on me."

Jecht clapped his hands together. "Yeah! The words I love ta hear!"

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It had been two months since Auron's return from Tokyo. The week he'd spent in Japan due to the funeral put him behind in his class work and it had taken quite a while to dig his way out from under the stack of mail, papers, and messages that had built up in his box while he was away. For a solid month, Auron was buried in paper and research. With the exception of the hours he spent teaching undergraduate labs, he spent all his time in a library, a professor's office, or in his own lab. Normally, he would have busted it out in a matter of a week but, for some reason, he just didn't feel right. He was often tired for no particular reason and would fall asleep at his desk. A trip to the doctor showed nothing but normal blood chemistry and a perfectly working body. It frustrated Auron that he couldn't seem to stay awake.

He managed to join his dissertation for the Finance MBA and his research for the Chemistry MS. Several companies were looking for new uses for titanium dioxide and one company in particular - one based in Japan - was also doing some amazing work with synthetic iron oxide. Auron had a few application ideas and thought he could prove out a theory or two while he was at it. Both departments gave him a go and he'd been working pretty closely with a representative from Titan Kogyo Kabushiki Kaisha for the last nine months as he brought his research to a close. Everyone was impressed and Auron was pretty pleased himself. Though TKKK didn't have offices outside of Japan, the fact that he was a first generation and spoke fluent Japanese got his foot in the door where any other American would have found it slammed in his face. When the results of his lab tests and the financial projections were released for publication, Auron was assured a place in the company if he wanted it. At this point, it was nothing but a waiting game - how much would the company offer and when.

Auron still hedged his bets though. He wasn't going to count on anything. He'd done several interviews with companies like 3M, Dow, and Mitsui over the last few weeks - looking for something a little closer to home. When his mother died a little over a year ago, he had moved out of student housing and back into his room at the house in San Jose to be with his father. Asahiko was still living in New York City and had gotten engaged to her boyfriend, Seymour, about a week after they returned from Japan. Though the pair hadn't set a date yet, it was only a matter of time. While Auron wasn't going to let his feelings of familial responsibility keep him from a fantastic opportunity, he felt that shopping around just in case might be a good idea.

Japan had been odd. When the Cathay Pacific flight touched down he'd had a strange feeling - like coming home. Meeting the family; the funeral; seeing where his father had been born, it was all a little surreal and overwhelming. The only person's name he remembered from the entire trip was a cousin that stopped by the hotel while his father was out at some "clan meeting." He called himself Kamui and said he hadn't been able to attend the funeral because he was looking after a friend of the family. He, Asahiko, and the tall young man went out for, of all things, ice cream. Kamui looked about nineteen and asked a lot of questions about San Francisco. Auron listened while the young man and Asahiko chattered. Working for a fashion magazine, Auron's sister was interested in where Kamui got his clothes. Finally, the group said goodbyes and went their separate ways. That night, Auron went to bed early saying he didn't feel too well. He had a terrible headache. Most of the last two days in Japan, he spent in his hotel room sleeping. He didn't recall much of it at all. What little he did remember was dark and rather hazy - full of strange dreams about the flowering Sakura.

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Fuuma has a sick sense of humor.

Subaru still wasn't used to the new eye. The return of his perspective and depth of field were only half of the issue. He stood before the sink in his apartment, rinsing the blood out of a black turtleneck. Looking at himself in the mirror, the Sumeragi gazed at his strange reflection. One eye, brilliant green, was a familiar sight. It was the other, the brown one, which always startled him. Sometimes, he would catch a glimpse of himself from the side - a profile view - in a store window on the street and come to a complete stop. His heart would skip a beat until he turned his head completely to erase the vision of Seishirou that the window conjured up. Certainly, Seishirou wouldn't have been caught dead in the turtleneck and slacks that Subaru always wore. The former Sakurazukamori had immaculate taste in clothing - one of the things that Hokuto had so enjoyed about him. Yet, the silhouette of the black trench coat, short black hair, and brown eye often made the Sumeragi jump out of his own skin.

I am a man torn down the middle. Half is Seishirou. The other half Subaru. I suppose this is the only way we could ever co-exist in peace.

It had been months since Seishirou's death and the Sumeragi still felt the sting of his loss every day. He felt it most when he was forced to feed the tree. The first night he had killed for the thing had been repulsive. He tried to justify it to himself by saying he would choose someone without redeeming qualities - someone evil. He'd gone hunting for someone to match the description in his mind and quickly realized how arbitrary such a designation was. What was evil anyway? Was a prostitute evil? Young men and women who sold their bodies in the night to another for pleasure were simply making a living. What about a thief? Subaru realized that to know if a thief was an evil person you would have to know why they stole. Perhaps the pickpocket was forced to a life of crime after losing a job. And a drug addict, was a drug addict evil? No. Not really. They were sad people with an addiction. Finally, he lit upon what he thought was a concrete example of evil. A murderer was evil. Yet, here he was, about to commit that very crime. He had laughed at the situation thinking that, perhaps, he should just try to kill himself.

In the end, it had been an act of opportunity. After admitting to himself that he found no justification for the taking of another life, but realizing it had to be done, he simply waited for someone to come to him. An old man, dressed in three layers of tattered clothing and carrying a trash bag of his belongings, had shambled into the dark alley where the Sumeragi waited. He had spun his first dark illusion then - an inviting blanket discarded in a corner to entice the vagrant to the end of the alley. When the old man reached it, Subaru extinguished the lights. Cloaked in inky darkness, he silently approached the frightened man. Steeling himself, he reached forward and clamped a hand over the drifter's mouth to squelch the death cry. He quickly made the necessary kill, plunging his other hand into the man's chest and snuffing out his life like a cigarette stub. Trembling, Subaru watched as the body slipped from his grasp - the watery blue eyes of his victim stared vacantly upward toward an unattainable heaven.

When it was over, he'd thrown up.

Sickened by the smell of the blood and the thrill that killing the man had caused, Subaru retched in the alley until his sides ached. He was disgusted with himself. A rush of power had accompanied the man's death as the soul joined with the tree. It created a feeling in Subaru that was almost akin to lust. He hadn't noticed Fuuma walk down the alley and into his illusion.

"Tsk. Tsk. What would Seishirou-san think?" The sound of the Dark Kamui's amused voice startled the Sumeragi and he jerked his head up. The young man was standing nearby, looking down at Subaru with a grin on his face. "Can't even make a kill without getting sick. How pitiful."

Dual color eyes glared in the darkness of the illusion that encased the alley. Subaru wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved left hand. The response was curt. "What do you want?"

"Now is that any way to speak to a colleague – a friend?" Crouching down, Fuuma leaned forward and put his face level with Subaru's. Reaching forward, the young man put a hand to the side of the Sumeragi's face in an almost comforting gesture. He brushed his thumb softly along the soft skin beneath Seishirou's eye. Subaru flinched. "Just thought I would see how the new job is working out for you, Sakurazukamori."

Grabbing Fuuma by the wrist, Subaru jerked the young man's hand away. Power crackled in the air and it brought with it the strong crisp smell of ozone. Both sets of eyes narrowed in the darkness. Finally, Fuuma ended the standoff. He laughed.

It was a laugh filled with contempt. Ringing against the buildings that lined the alleyway, the Dark Kamui's amusement and complete disdain echoed in the night. Standing, he looked down at Subaru and made a dismissive gesture. A camellia blossom fell from his hand to the pavement near Subaru. "Have it your way. But I think, in time, you will find I am the closest thing you will ever get to a friend."

That had been well over a month ago.

Since then, Subaru had killed many times. While he still felt conflicted when he chose his victims, it was becoming easier with each passing day. He didn't think he could ever be callous or calculating about it, as Seishirou-san had seemed, but the repetition of the act was numbing him to the gore. He no longer flinched at the fear in the eyes of his target before the kill. And, while he got no pleasure from stalking his prey, he was starting to crave the perverse gratification that accompanied every feeding.

He also had a few run-ins on the street with The Enemy. The Seals seemed to think the situation was some kind of mistake. They pleaded with Subaru to come back to the fold. Young Kamui was the most vocal and seemed to seek out his former friend. The younger man argued and pleaded with Subaru - as though there were some element of choice. When, at their last meeting, Subaru told Kamui he was not the only one with a twin star, the young man had flinched and stared at his feet. It was a cruel thing to do, and Subaru no longer cared if he was cruel. The time of decisions was long since past. It had passed, Subaru finally realized, the day of the bet. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he knew it was too late and, for him, there would be no redemption. He looked down into the sink at the turtleneck in his hands and turned off the water. Washing it was pointless. The blood would never really come out. The soaking piece of cotton was tossed unceremoniously into the trashcan with a wet thud as he switched off the light.

This was his fate; his destiny; his wish. He'd already sold his soul.