FicWad

Absit Omen
Chapter Two
by Rhea Logan


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As the time went by, Watari assumed he had been cut off. Lack of information and the fact that hardly anybody ever stayed around him longer than absolutely necessary had made that more than clear. He wondered, not without a bitter aftertaste, why Enma had not yet disposed of him altogether; even though his living after the completion of the Project had been guaranteed. But as the days rolled past, there was only one conclusion that left him with a much better sense of understanding, for a change. He realized that the Project was still as far from completed as it could have been.

There had been only one who came, at times he assumed had to be after hours. Kasaya Akane, one of his former assistants; the good soul she was, she had often sneaked in after everyone else had left, and seated herself in a chair next to him. She would stay there, silent, for a longer while. Always the same - her presence unobtrusive, gentle, hardly there. Watari had not bothered to open his eyes. She must have thought he slept whenever she came, and so each time she kept herself quiet, so as not to wake him. He probably couldn't have told she was there at all, if not for an occasional deep sigh she allowed herself to breathe.

The girl must have been the only one who had never seemed as cold about what they were engaged in as was everybody else. He had always liked that in her; the passion, the fine balance between emotion and reason, between logic and intuition. He had once thought that if there was anyone who had what it took to succeed him, should it come to that, she would be his choice.

Not that they'd let her, he knew. Still, it was a nice thought.

Eventually, he could tell the time by the frequency of her visits. Many times, tired of being alone, he tried to force himself to open his eyes, to let her know he was awake, perhaps to talk to her. But each time he failed; for the first time since he remembered, he found that he had nothing to say. Nothing save the dreaded small talk you got going before the incongruity of the situation got out of control.

He remembered waking up, just once, to someone holding his hand. He couldn't keep from twitching, but the stream of soft whispers he realized must have been going on for a while had not broken off.

"...had to. I mean... I'm sure you'd understand. I wish they'd informed me. So much went wrong. I'm so ashamed of myself. I've always thought of all those things I'd give up to trade places with you. Many of us did - not that it makes me feel better, really, but still. And now... I'm not sure I can do this anymore." She sniffled. A feather-soft touch of a finger smoothed the cool skin of his hand. "So silly of me to say that, I know. Of course I can. And I will. I'm just hoping you'll come back to us soon. Then it will be like before, right? Chief?"

Watari sighed inwardly, a bitter response catching in his throat. Akane had been dead longer than him; by almost ten years, if he remembered right. It made them almost the same age. Yet for all the genius of her mind, she still possessed a fair share of what Watari had lost. The naivety of the otherwise brilliant youth she had been when she died.

Or maybe, he had mused, that was just what made her human. Hope, however foolish. Wishing. Denial. Blindness, even. She had it all. No, he wanted to tell her. It would never be like before. A part of him wanted to rise, look straight into those naïve brown eyes and cut her innocence with the blade of truth. It would not be alright. Not everything is fair. Not everything ends well.

...we have gone too far, myself the farthest of us all. Pushed or not. Tricked or not. No excuse. No going back. No nothing, really. I'm sorry. So very sorry, Akane, I really am. I can't come back. To anything. Not to my old self. Not to my old work. Not to my friends, who turned out never to have been friends at all. There's still that good part of me that hasn't gone sour yet and it wishes I could do that. But, no. No.

I can't.

I hate them. On some level, I hate even you, the least guilty of us all. I'm beginning to hate myself, too. But it doesn't matter, does it? We will prevail. I will prevail.

Run, while you can. I'm not done here. It's not over yet.

Soon Akane fell silent; she left not long after. Watari had to wonder whether she had been discouraged or relieved by his lack of response. He knew she would not have liked what he'd wished to say. And for once, he had spared her. Then second thoughts came, and he wondered if perhaps she had somehow picked up on his thoughts, and fled.

-

They had left him to his own devices altogether, but Watari knew he was being watched. He knew them all too well, but so did they know him. It had been expected of him to turn down their help. He did not disappoint. Slowly, day after day, he had pulled himself together on his own.

Headaches were the worst. There were days when they tore him apart, threatened to crack his skull in half. He managed to overcome the lack of coordination over time. The perpetual cold he slowly learned to ignore. They had brought his clothes from that apartment Watari knew he would never go back to again. Wearing layers helped. Only his hands were always so cold that his fingers refused to be nearly as quick as they had been once. But he would keep frustration well hidden. He wouldn't let them have it. Like with all else, one day he would get past that, too.

One morning he found a pair of thin, black gloves on top of his pile of clothes beside the bed. Akane's smile seemed somewhat warmer that day, too.

At some point, he started to entertain himself with guesses when they would come to him. From the scraps of information overheard from the assistants, he had gathered that his position had not been handed over to anybody else. Officially, anyway. It was now only a matter of time before he would be approached about his upcoming return. He knew well there was no one capable of immediately taking over after him, and it seemed unlikely they had found someone during those three months. It had taken him longer than that to fully jump into the job, five years prior. Compared to the Project's stage last time he had checked, the state of it when he had joined was a childish joke.

He miscalculated only by two days. First thing in the morning, by his estimation five weeks and a day after he'd returned, Hinote came in for what he had called a 'checkup' and what, Watari knew, was the big talk he must have been assigned to do.

Hinote acted proper and polite ad nauseum. That fake half-smile on his face felt almost offensive. Watari guessed it must have been him who had overseen the part of the Project he had not been let in on. So much for trust inside the team they were supposed to have been. So much for the deal. So much for sincerity. All those words had somehow lost their meaning to him in the past few weeks.

He put up his oblivious front, as he had each time someone came to check up on him. He knew that his reaction to those people, who no doubt were supposed to still be his co-workers, had to be part of what interested them. Watari endured the endless tests with stoic calm and responses as minimal as he could spare.

He had decided it would be no different, this time.

"Looking good. You should be up and about sooner than I thought."

Watari kept his eyes closed as he inclined his head in a silent agreement. Calm and steady, his only movement was slow, measured intake of air. Inside, though, he couldn't help but feel some impious sort of excitement. Hinote's pose of politeness and his cool exterior would soon burn to ash.

"You are expected back at work by the end of next week."

Watari's inner voice laughed. His face betrayed nothing. "No."

Fabric whispered around him. He could almost feel the man's eyes grow large as they pierced through him, but he would not be hurt by this. He would not be affected. Not anymore.

"Do you reckon you need more time?"

Watari shook his head. His voice was soft, face expressionless. "No."

Hinote took another step, leaning over him, closer still. "What is the meaning of this?"

He wondered briefly what infuriated his second-in-command more; his monosyllabic answers, or the illusion of perfect calm he was being served with. Still not looking up, he offered a smooth explanation he had been waiting to deliver for weeks.

"I'm not coming back."

"I beg your pardon?"

Golden eyes snapped open, meeting a pair of gray ones, clearly shock-stricken. Watari regarded the middle-aged looking man with a long, cold stare.

"I think I haven't made myself clear enough," he said in a slow, deliberate voice, "so allow me to reiterate. You suck. I quit."

Large hands grabbed him by his robe, lifting him slightly from the bed, but Watari's eyes never left the other's face. Challenge burned with amber fire; a clear-cut message that his was the decision to be reckoned with. Inside his head, Watari was laughing like he hadn't laughed for years. He found it almost too hard to contain. Outside, he studied that rising fury in the older man, felt his hands tremble as Hinote held him, saw the reflection of failure flash in his gray eyes and savored that moment, the one he had been waiting for.

"Let him go."

Released at once, Watari fell back against the bed. Figures. He thought briefly that he should have known that visit had also been in order. Yet he had to give credit where it was due - the timing took him unawares.

Hinote took a sharp turn and bent himself in half in an excessively respectful bow. "Enma DaiOh-sama," he said, voice betraying emotion. "I beg forgiveness. This--"

"Silence." Enma's silky voice held a note of contempt. He walked past the man, shoving him aside, and stood by the edge of Watari's bed.

"It is not always that the golden cage is best for the golden bird, or so the tale says. It could bring misfortune and hindrance to the prince's plans."

A slender hand came up, wide sleeve of the god's black robe whispered behind his ear as Enma carded his long, cold fingers through Watari's hair. Holding his breath, he treated himself to a harsh reprimand for letting his mind liken that chilly touch to what his own felt like these days. That offending hand sneaking slowly towards the back of his neck in a mockery of caress made his skin crawl.

"Surely you have no wish to add a chapter of woe to the tale of our own? KinU."

Regarded with a smile that never reached Enma's jet-black eyes, Watari suppressed a shiver. Aiming straight for the core? You sure do have a knack for that.

"Like in the tales of old, all things must draw to an end, somewhere down the road. I wish for a happy end, as do you, I'm sure. For now, let the cage be that of your choice."

"You can't let him go just like that! The Project--"

Hinote's cascade of discourteous words broke off the instant Enma turned his head, the movement so swift Watari had to wonder why it couldn't have snapped his neck. Disappointing, that. A part of him grinned inwardly at that idea, but Enma's hand brushing against the back of his head brought him back down to earth. Shifting his position ever so slightly, no doubt to give Watari a better view of the mortified man, Enma narrowed his eyes.

"Surely you have not just denied me the right to do as I please?"

Hinote came down in a bow. "Enma DaiOh-sama, I beg forgiveness," he whispered.

The god waved him off with a small, dismissive movement of one pale, slender hand, the other one still tangled in Watari's hair. He pulled at the golden strands ever so lightly, as though by accident. Yet to him the message was crystal clear; Enma's words had been meant for them both, and the pull at his hair lent them an extra edge.

"Dispense with the charade, Hinote. Your opinion means nothing to me. Thus, unless you wish for me to take your little display of disobedience at face value, you will finish your tasks and spare us needless commentary."

Not daring to so much as look up at the god or move, Hinote bent himself even lower. Watari entertained a mental image of the man falling flat at Enma's feet if something snapped in his back, but it was too much to hope for. He harbored a loathing for them both. For Enma all the more; the god held the strings in his hand and pulled at them at will.

Enma turned his attention back to him and Watari made sure he looked as inscrutable and unmoved as he only could.

"Your request for transfer has been granted. You are free to relocate to the office of your choice at any given time. Your work here is done. For now." Enma leaned in, hovering above Watari's tense form spread on the bed. "But never forget," he added in a whisper so soft that he could have been the only one to hear, "You belong to me."

Watari fought nausea as the black eyes flickered ominously just inches away from his own. He had not let his breath out until Enma turned to leave. As soon as the door closed behind him, Hinote straightened himself and stormed across the room towards Watari's bed.

"You did not just do that," he breathed, rage seeping through every single deliberately uttered word. Flushed with anger, the man's face presented a perfect picture of the bitter dread that must have swarmed his thoughts.

Watari raised an eyebrow. "I believe I did."

Hinote cast a brief glance over his shoulder towards the door, no doubt half expecting Enma to return, should he lay a hand on his now-former chief again. He kept his distance, but if looks could kill, Watari would be far more dead than he already was.

"You can't," he seethed, his breath far too heavy. "All that work! You've already hindered the Project as it is. You can't just walk out on--"

"Why does it bother you so much?" Watari cut him off and frowned, cocking his head. "Don't tell me you're not drooling at the thought of taking over once I'm gone. It should be convenient to you."

"Don't play stupid, Watari, it doesn't suit you." Hinote snapped between deep breaths he drew to regain his control. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned slightly forward. "You're well aware none of us, at this point, can play substitute. You're wasting five years--"

"Of my own work," Watari finished calmly. He threw away the blanket he'd lain under and got up from the bed. "It's not my problem anymore. I'm done." /Almost/, his inner voice added.

Hinote's narrowed eyes fixed him with a glare. "You're going to regret this."

"Perhaps." Watari's lips twitched in a little smirk. "Then you won't be alone."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Watari walked past him, ignoring Hinote's suddenly stricken expression and the tone of his voice, bordering on panic. Bingo/, he thought to himself, /you have something to fear.

"Oh, nothing," he said lightly as he headed for the door. Make it me. And let's find out why.


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KinU (Jap.) - the kanji can be translated as 'golden bird'. Enma uses that name in reference to Watari in Yami no Matsuei chapter 57.