D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Jaded Chain ❯ Chapter 3

Series: D.N.Angel

Pairing: Satoshi/Daisuke

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: AU. Very AU.

A/N : I hope this answers your e-mails about this story, because I intended for this arc to end, which explains why I'm not working on it anymore - I have new arcs to work on, yay, and I get to have fun with the guys! (So all this fuss is just so I can have END slapped on the end of the page, which may not mean a lot, but to me, who NEVER completes her story, uh, yeah. (is teh proud)

Lorraine, France

17th February 1793

The ramshackle cottage with the thatched roof came into view, hidden almost securely behind the overgrown masses of shrubs and looming pine trees. It had taken three days longer than expected to purchase a carriage to Lorraine, with the price unexpectedly higher than usual, but at these times, business was suffering and wary, so there wasn't much of a choice. Wary guards were on patrol everyday, stopping anyone who seemed out of place, interrogating their motives. Just yesterday, they had caught folks trying to sneak out of France's borders, hidden in baskets with piles of vegetables on them. The horrid smell alone was enough for the guards to wave them out quickly. They would've succeeded if the guards had not spotted a telltale lock of hair peeping out from those baskets. This little episode had alerted security everywhere, and France's citizens had begun to aid the guards in search for anyone suspicious. It had became increasingly hard to find someone willing to hire a scrawny boy of seventeen, but in the end, a bakery lady had taken pity on him and brought him under her wing, making him work unrelentingly but with fair-enough wages.

The skies darkened, and a slow rain began to fall. Sauntering to the trash bin on a street corner, he dug out a copy of yesterday's newspaper, sheltering his head under it and keeping a low profile. Security was less tight in Lorraine, since the only way out of France was through Paris' gateways. Still, guards were stationed at their posts, reticent and exchanging conversations about today's weather and the latest news. A few people were ambling by, drunks were either sprawled on the corner of the streets out cold, or hassling passers by insistently. The guards took no notice of these happenings, although a guard had noticed his odd posture, briefly chitchatted with his partner on station, and made his way towards him.

Thinking fast, he doubled over and clutched his stomach, wheezing and croaking while fanning his face with his grimy hat. Sure enough, the guard stopped dead in his tracks, obviously wary of an infectious gaunt boy but still cautious enough not to take his eyes off him. Clutching his newspaper readily, he ran away, but vigilantly on the grounds that he didn't want to attract more unnecessary attention. Already, the dye from his hair was starting to dissolve; the actual color was enough to contradict the color of the dye that he would most undoubtedly attract attention within a ten-mile radius.

Sheltered by wired fences, the cottage rested on a rectangular Eden-like garden, carpeted with roughly-trimmed green grass and weeds like an overgrown mantle. The outlandish assortment of flora and trees, scrappily arranged in the lawn had more or less enhanced the entire vicinity. On the left side of the lawn, was a modest marbled fountain made of various cracked rocks, the water dribbled over them gently. And on the very top, stood a small granite figure, a depiction of a transparently veiled woman, cleverly sculptured to bring out the wistful, childlike _expression. It had withered, due to time, and now, all that remained were reminiscences of the real thing. The outer edges of the garden were wrinkled with a mixture of exotic - and wilted - flowers such as morning glories, hibiscuses - all sheared and created to a colorful ring fence. The cottage resided at a convenient place, away from the prying eyes of snooping citizens and guards, and most advantageously, the enduring legacy of a lingering ghost haunting its provinces to alienate any outsiders. The cottage was said to have belonged to an old woman who had the misfortune to plummet to her death from the balcony, and as of now, not one had stepped forward to purchase its domains. But he knew that sooner or later, the government will have to put his foot forward.

Exhausted, he shut the doors behind him and made his way to the dining room. During his stay here, he had done little to furnish the house, excluding weekly trips to the market to stock up the food supply with what was left of his money. The breakfronts and cabinets had left nothing to the imagination, as he had discovered in repugnance, odd green mold and dust that had grown excessively due to months of neglect.

A silver plate of cherry pie - with a fork indignantly stabbed upwards - sat in the middle of the long coffee table, half-eaten. Its owner had rested his head on the table and was fast asleep, breathing hard. A brown and tattered waistcoat was discarded on the tiled floors. He picked it up and hung it over one of the chairs. Outside, raindrops poured down the rooftops, offering its humbly soothing resonance.

He walked behind the chair and leaned forward. "Resorting to stealing pies again, are we?"

The boy, who had been catching up lost hours of sleep, was roused enough to reply," Madame Louisa was selling them at outrageous prices... I had to go and snatch it away... did you see the look on her pudgy face..."

"Wish I'd been there to beat some sense into you... not that I would, of course, but I'd like to see how it is."

That was certainly enough to stir the boy up. Feeling under the weather, but still fully awake, he mumbled out," Satoshi...? You're back..."

Satoshi sighed and shrugged out of his coat, tossed it over a chair, and sat down. Swallowing, Daisuke ran to fetch a towel, and tossed it over to the taller boy, who caught it easily and rubbed his wet hair. The towel was laced with auburn color from his hair, now exposing fair prism-like strands. For a long moment, there was silence, with only the thundering of raindrops above them to provide any source of sounds at all. Guilt was still latched onto Daisuke's face, and Satoshi finally took pity on him by grabbing the fork and sticking it into the pie. Quite surprised, Daisuke watched as Satoshi chewed, and made a face.

"Cherry? Couldn't you have settled for something less sweet?" Despite himself, Satoshi went for another round. The pie tasted far too sweet for Satoshi's liking, but he had learned the hard way that beggars can't be choosers.

Daisuke, who suddenly remembered why he was so enraged before, ignored him and instead, attacked. "Couldn't you've told me that you're going out, instead of letting me worry about where you were? I was so worried sick about you; I even chewed my shirt to bits!" He held out his shirt, where the edges were suspiciously frayed. "See? You'll be paying for that, by the way. But... I've never been so scared... maybe I should stop worrying... I'm gonna die before I reach twenty... no doubt about it..." Daisuke was now moaning to himself, burying his face in his hands. "What if something happened again?"

"Oh? You mean when I was nearly caught by those guards?" Satoshi's stomach growled. He stuck his fork into the pie for another bite, made another face, and forced himself to swallow. "That was merely a case of pure rashness. Rest assured, nothing like that will ever happen again."

"You nearly beat a man to death!" Daisuke was frozen on the spot, nearly paralyzed with fear by the awful memory of that incident just a week ago. "It wasn't just rashness; it was blasphemy!"

"Utterly quaint, that word, especially when it came from you," Satoshi remarked, more interested in studying Daisuke's face than Daisuke himself. "There is no discrimination in protecting yourself from a man with more brawns than brains who thinks he could swipe valuables from a helpless teenage lad. I'd say he's learnt not to mess with me anymore... shall our paths ever cross once more."

Daisuke raised his eyebrows incredulously at the word 'helpless'. "...It's overkill."

"How strange of you to worry so much, Niwa. It's not... like you," Satoshi remarked, clinking the fork stridently against the edges of the platter to emphasize his point. Daisuke blushed, most likely at Satoshi's indifferent manner; the frustration the boy felt earlier was too strong for it to simply bypass, he ignored his friend and resumed pouring out his worries to his heart's content.

Satoshi couldn't help but feel a spark of amusement ignite; the idea of Daisuke playing the mother hen was simply too much. Unfortunately, Daisuke chose that precise moment to notice, which resulted in an obvious demonstration of an enraged tantrum. He let Daisuke have his choice of words for a while - how the boy must've been bursting with all these outrageous remarks - before clamping his hands down on the table, pushed his chair back with a loud screech, trailed over to Daisuke who had wisely shut his mouth up, and sprawled a slim arm around the boy's slender shoulders. The abandoned fork clattered to the floor with a loud clink, the cherry pie now transiently forgotten.

"The pie upsets you?" Daisuke gulped, trying to edge away as much as possible without being too blatant.

Satoshi shook his head, smiling. "Hardly," he replied, seizing Daisuke in a throttle hold. Daisuke's eyes bulged and he choked, but Satoshi didn't seem to notice. Or rather, chose not to notice. "I find your concern a little... touching. Stifling, true, but... strangely touching." Satoshi tested the word out with his tongue, and found it highly intriguing. "I like this feeling - quite unusual, but somehow... familiar... oh yes." Satoshi snapped his fingers, as if he suddenly remembered something. "Lady Pauline used to worry about me like this. Well, not as much as you, but I did give her little frights when I did something out of hand."

"Something out of hand?" Daisuke squeaked incredulously. "You abandoned me for nearly three whole days... I was out of my mind with worry...!"

"Come now," scoffed Satoshi, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "I wouldn't do that to you - and you know it. And while we're at it, what made you into this pathetic, sniveling little brat?" He smirked lopsidedly. "Don't be shy, fess up."

Again, Daisuke blushed. Sometimes, he didn't like how Satoshi had a way of driving it home. "Don't call me a brat. So I'm worried about you," he defended himself, not willing to admit that he had been around the company of Joan Lambert, a kindly old woman and his fellow neighbor. Encountering various reactions in France - mostly negative - had made Daisuke more appreciative of her gentle nature. Satoshi wouldn't like it if he knew that Daisuke was hanging around strangers. "Just once, I'd like to know when you're going out, so I don't have to die of panic!"

"You? Panic? Never."

Daisuke briefly glared at the other boy. "You didn't expect me to roll around playing dress-up and smear the walls with blobs from the fridge, did you?"

"Knowing you? I don't know what to say." Satoshi buried his face into Daisuke's shoulder. His back was killing him, and he made a mental note to ask Daisuke about a massage somewhat later in the afternoon - the boy could really do wonders with those hands. "Where were we...? Oh yes. We were talking about frights..."

"Not we. You!"

"Us," he stubbornly countered, squinting. "I gave you a hell of a fright, which I suppose I must apologize for..."

The other boy squirmed; he could see that the subject was venturing into a field he would much like to stay out of.

"But of course, that was nothing compared to the fright you gave me."

An eye for an eye, which was what they said. In this case, it was driven mercilessly home.

Daisuke, in his moment of panic, caught Satoshi in a time of susceptibility and promptly stomped on his foot as hard as he could, causing the taller boy to release his hold on Daisuke, stumbling back and cringing in pain. A second later had Daisuke scampering away from the dining room and into the den, Satoshi following closely by the tail, scowling as he nearly stumbled on irksome obstructions such as overthrown books and fluorescent lamps on the potholed carpeted floor. Daisuke was, by far, the more agile of the two, having spent two months perfecting his litheness by evading pesky guards on the hunt for more nobles. But even that could not save him, as he had the misfortune of missing a huge poker obscuring his way, which resulted in him tripping over it and falling flat-face on the ground. Pain flaring up his knees and ankles, his anxiety all but elapsed.

Satoshi took this to his advantage and dove at Daisuke, who yelped when both his arms were slammed down by the force of Satoshi's arms. "All right, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whined, grimacing when Satoshi's knee brushed against his and caused unwarranted pain to streak up his thigh. "I should've never done that to you to begin with, and now that that's over with, can you please let me go?"

Satoshi was not impressed. "Why won't you speak of it?" he demanded, more curious than dismayed.

"The pie?"

Satoshi bristled, but remained still and quiet. "I wasn't talking about that." The subtle warning tone rang alarm bells in Daisuke's mind, and he all but crawled on his knees in surrender.

"What am I supposed to say, that I have this eerie demon inside of me?" Daisuke wailed, futilely attempting to push Satoshi's weight off him. "No matter what you say, it's not normal, and will never be normal, and most of all, that I have black wings is solid proof that I will never be normal." Daisuke's voice was small. "...Why couldn't I have white wings instead? Then everyone might think me an angel..."

Rolling his eyes, Satoshi moved off from Daisuke's frame and settled beside him. The living room was in worse shape than the kitchenette, and certainly in much worse shape than even the servants' quarters at Reginald Hall, his former residence before moving into the Ducette household. The wallpaper was creased and yellowed over the months, the furniture that was noticeably once sumptuous and lavish, looked like a mere bump would cause them to fall apart. A strong smell of dusty old books and oil lamps still lingered, mantelpieces looked like they might fall apart at the slightest touch, and half of the glass transoms had little cracks on them. Still, the house provided shelter and a roof; therefore, it was adequate, for the moment.

Satoshi listened attentively as the seventeen-year-old boy continued his muses. "I knew they were dragging you to the Salle de la Dernière Toilette... I couldn't stop crying," he blushed, but continued, his voice wobbly. "I was thinking, 'Isn't there someway I could rescue him?' I couldn't stand being... totally useless, but I knew I was useless. I couldn't even cry on Risa's shoulders - she's not even there anymore - all I know is that I blacked out at the front of the porch... and you know what happened next."

Telling Daisuke the events that occurred during his blackout phase was probably not the best choice, but he owed it to his childhood friend, who deserved nothing more than the truth. Daisuke had been cowed with incredulous shock at realizing the utter obliteration of the Salle de la Dernière Toilette, where the carcasses of various people slumped on the grounds, the walls smothered dark red, and feathers as black as night swirled in the room with the sheer force of a vast gale. At that time, Satoshi truly felt the first stirrings of the foreign sensation of fear and perplexity; a still figure in the heart of the storm with arms spread, seemingly willing the dark feathers around the space of the room. Satoshi had been flung backwards hard from the impact from the astonishingly strong gust of wind and even after he regained consciousness - outside the entrance of the Conciergerie of all places - he still couldn't shake off the dark wariness that a person had caused the disaster, especially after he found that he woke up with Daisuke's arms around him.

Daisuke bore the glitters of hard purple eyes and enclosed the both of them with wings as black as sin. Purely on impulse, Satoshi had struggled against his friend, pushing him with all his might, but at the same time, stark aware of the horrified stares the few citizens on the streets were throwing their way. They flew in the skies as swiftly as possible, away from the prying eyes and the hysterical screams of the Devil himself, until those black wings exhausted themselves and they crashed painfully into a forest in the outskirts of France, with only the branches and ominous trees to break their fall. The Devil in front of him was a hastily and madly scrawled painting - large, majestically spread wings and none other than Niwa Daisuke's features horribly joined with an entirely different someone - the outcome was astonishing...

"Je ne l'ai pas fait...!" Daisuke, the creature had sobbed brokenly. "It wasn't me...! I didn't do it..."

Satoshi had hugged him tightly. Purely a moment of impulse, he convinced himself.

"Je ne l'ai pas fait," Satoshi stated out loud, drawing Daisuke's surprised eyes towards him. "I didn't do it, you said. You seemed so sure of that... why?"

Daisuke fiddled uncomfortably with his hands. How much he wanted to drop the subject! But in a way, he supposed it would be good to get it over and done with. "It's like watching through windows - I was watching myself, yet it wasn't me. I could only remember bits and pieces of it... like black feathers, flying in the skies, carrying you, and falling down... and also thinking I won't look myself in the mirror the next time this happened, because I could feel my face - or parts of it!" His eyes immediately brimmed with angry tears, and he brushed them away. "Having no control over myself made me scared. I wanted to run away from you, but I couldn't, of course. I'm sharing my body with someone else - that much, I know!"

Satoshi, who couldn't think of any soothing words to calm his friend down, reluctantly hugged his friend. The small feat made Daisuke momentarily forget himself and smiled winningly, appreciating the moment. Those long years of friendship, Daisuke knowing Satoshi's ups and downs, and Satoshi knowing his, and everything that they had experienced - Daisuke knew doing something like this took a lot out of the boy, and what an uncharacteristic move too, he couldn't help but smile. Satoshi did have his moments...

"Don't go around thinking this'll happen again, you hear?" Daisuke heard Satoshi warn close to his ear, and he made a face.

Warning notices and instructions were issued all over Paris, gathering the interests of neighboring police forces and headquarters, but Satoshi was unaware of it. The salacious news of a young boy single-handedly breaking out of prison, leaving behind a staggering phenomenon that was the now abolished Salle de la Dernière Toilette had left officials in shock, was much too tempting not to be investigated; a healthy reward was to be given to those who disclosed the personal information of the escapee. Witnesses of the jailbreak instantaneously came forward with the confounding news of someone - or something - soaring in the skies that day, and some even claimed they had seen black feathers. Implausible, yes, but judging by the mounts of placid black feathers that subjugated the mess of the room, officials were forced to think otherwise.

Further inspection proved that during the whole time Hiwatari Satoshi had stayed in prison, only one had appealed for a visit - the night before the prisoner was to be sentenced to execution, which encouraged the belief that the visitor might in fact, be the cause of the disaster. Sergeant Nicolas Martinez, supervisor of the Conciergerie, was condemned to death for aiding the mess by allowing an intruder in past visiting hours.

Rather than letting Satoshi run around to his heart's content and forcing Daisuke to stay home nursing himself like a sickly housewife, he vowed to help contribute to the recuperation of their now threatened lives, voicing his thoughts out to his friend and remained stubborn, still refusing to take no for an answer. It took a lot of cajoling and whining to let Daisuke have what he wanted, but in the end, sweet justice prevailed, so now, Daisuke finally had something to do in his hands! Satoshi didn't like it, but what could he do, other than browbeat Daisuke for coming to such a hazard decision?

If it wasn't enough that they had to cope with dodging the attentions of alert guards on their tails, a new crisis emerged, mainly the lack of finances. What was left of the money Satoshi had worked for was exhausted at an alarming rate, having gone through basic utilities in the space of a few weeks. The prices were much too steep to be met, even for something as minimal as loaves of bread, where it cost ten times the original price. To make things worse, Daisuke had already garnered attention to himself; having spent the last few days pilfering pies from the second window of Madame Louisa's building and accidentally revealed his profile to the portly, grumpy baker caused a dramatic change to their agenda.

Money matters aside, there were also clothes and attires to take care of - they hadn't been noticed yet, but Satoshi figured a change of clothing might be recommendable in case needless suspicions arose when two young boys were walking together with the same clothing worn for over a month. With a sense of reluctance and dread, they went ahead and purchased some new clothes, for ambiguity's sake. Pray that their decisions won't come to haunt them, for now they faced their next little problem on the list: starvation.

The next few days, they spent in Lorraine, and if mandatory, Paris itself. Both of them agreed to part for the time being, to reduce the risk of their arrests. Satoshi had made up his mind to return to the Ducette household, knowing full well that he hadn't settled things - yet. That was, to settle with the demons haunting him from day one: his guardian's untimely death.

He had no knowledge of Lady Pauline's murder, only that it had somehow triggered his arrest: stab the woman several times, hastily shipshape evidence lingering around, and instigate a well-timed execution to turn tables around. Satoshi was now the quarry in the vicious circle. The murder bothered him more than he would have liked to admit, Lady Pauline being one of the few people he actually came to be fond of, but ever since his arrest and imprisonment in the Conciergerie, he was more concerned with his condition than hers.

Standing in front of the Ducette manor now brought a wave of unpleasant memories, the image of Lady Pauline the fiercest. This was where they manhandled him in such a way that even now, he could feel a tiny spark of the thirst for blood; the humiliation he had to put up with...! The memory of Lady Pauline's crumpled body smoldered into his mind, and he wondered, just who on Earth would cause the demise of such a motherly and benign person - probably those filthy and lewd peasants, who think they owned France with their sullied rags. After all, only they could achieve the result of something as incredulous and astounding as that...! She had been generous, taking Satoshi in from the winter's night when no one would, fed him and clothed him - that alone, Satoshi was evermore indebted to, and to have the chance of repaying her back utterly destroyed unsettled him a great deal.

Satoshi didn't realize he had been standing on the pavement until an hour later. With his mind made up, he stepped forwards into the portentous ambiance that the manor offered, deliberately stepping on the placard that said "GOVERNMENT'S PROPERTY" encompassing the boundaries of the structure. It provided little sense of satisfaction, but there were more vital things that demanded his attention.

The living room was in shambles. Wide-eyed, Satoshi glanced around, surveying the room. Furniture was overturned, glorious paintings that hung on the walls were either ripped apart or purposely scribbled with vulgar words. Even the couch Satoshi had spent winter nights on was frayed, the lining clawed apart, obviously done by the work of a sharp dagger. He hurriedly scampered to the library, his heart in his throat. The door was locked, so he hurled his shoulder against the door, forcing the bolt to detach and threw the door open. The state that the library was in, however, remained intact, much to his surprise. Everything was in place; in fact, it looked almost exactly the same as it did prior to his arrest.

//How strange.//

//I would've thought they'd do something to it.//

"What are you doing here?"

Satoshi whirled around, narrowing his eyes. An intruder? No... To his amazement, a round and flabby man leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms in a pathetic attempt to look as unyielding as possible. The familiar waistcoat, worn-out by excessive use, registered in Satoshi's sharp mind. Oh yes. How silly of him not to remember the other occupant of the household.

"Louis Ducette," Satoshi acknowledged, nodding. "I didn't expect you to be here-"

"Murderer," he instantly shrieked, his small eyes blazing great fury. "You dare to stand here in this very room! You dare!"

Satoshi's eyebrow twitched. Just as he'd briefly forgotten the Ducette household and the facts that came along with it, he'd also forgotten how much he had to put up with Louis' one tracked mind. Rise up, totter to the tavern, drink to oblivion, come back, exchange interesting conversations with Satoshi, and promptly pass out on his bed. A riveting schedule the man had led. Not to mention that this man happened to be Lady Pauline's husband.

"Straight to the subject, are we? Fine," Satoshi nodded again, studying Louis Ducette. "As appalling as this looked, I assure you that I didn't-"

"Stop with your damn lies, I said," he raged on. "Will there ever be a day when you even come clean with half-truths? No, I think, because I saw your corruption the day you moved in."

Satoshi kept a lid on his temper. "I said I didn't kill her."

"A bunch of lies, I said!" The man's voice suddenly lowered, his bulging belly heaving in and out. "I still haven't forgotten your dastardly ways, I tell you, the way you pulled the wool over Pauline's eyes, enticing her like the depraved little brat that you are, I said. Tell me, my boy, with the way you fawned over her, how was she?"

Satoshi's shoulders stiffened at Louis' crude tone. "How was she what?"

"Don't play innocent with me, you little monster." Louis was now marching across the room, making his way directly to Satoshi. As livid as the man was, he kept his distance carefully from Satoshi, although he still kept up his harangue. "Always near her, I noticed, cuddling her, even when I'm around...! Talking like you're the only ones in this God-forsaken world, I saw..." He was now mumbling. "Yes, how I've wanted to beat your ears till they turned red, I said... this chance to settle things with you finally here, I tell myself, there is a God!" Louis threw back his head and guffawed sardonically. "And now you're here, I noticed, even though I hoped I wouldn't see the likes of ya ever again!" Satoshi noted his accent changed. "Yea, that's what I'll do; I'll beat ya till you cry, and even then, I'll still beat ya for seducin' my Pauline to yer bed!" His voice grew to a pitch. "I hafta beat ya for killin' her too... I saw ya standin' over her holdin' that blade of yers...!"

Satoshi's gaze to the ranting, contemptible man could only be categorized as a death glare that grew deeper by the minute. Soiling his name just like that... Nonetheless, he calmly left the man in the library, only stopping at the doorway when Louis Ducette raged at him, and said over his shoulder," I don't have time for your blubbering nonsense, you realize." Satoshi smiled a cruel smile. "Think what you will - I really don't have the time now, but rest assured, I'll make you pay for that remark." He bowed his head a little, mockingly. "Good day, Sir Ducette." He left the man staring dazedly after him.

//Yes... will I ever make you pay...//

The cottage was still empty by the time Daisuke let himself in, exhausted. He went straight into the den, collapsed on the shabby couch, and closed his eyes. Today was an exhausting day, having spent the entire afternoon and evening banging on doors in hopes of a job. Even a small one would suffice; unfortunately, one look at his skinny arms, and the door was slammed in front of his face. Normally, his temper would've exploded at that point, but the burdens of money and food were weighing heavily on his shoulders and he trudged on dejectedly to other doors, only to have the same result ensued.

The room was shadowed in darkness, but as soon as Daisuke's eyes adjusted, he very much preferred it, rather than forcing himself to get up and scurry around for some sticks and wood to throw into the fireplace. There was money to be plundered, food to be devoured, priceless antiques to be sold... maybe he really should've gone back home. Even though the government had confiscated his family's land for almost three years already, there was still bound to be some treasures: heirlooms, for example. His memory was a little fuzzy, but he was willing to bet that there were some family jewels the government hadn't noticed before, all hidden in places only Daisuke himself knew. Pray that they were still left intact, even after he was taken in by Satoshi's family. With those thoughts in mind, Daisuke prepared himself for a moment of needed sleep...

Much to Daisuke's unawareness, police officials had encircled Old Women Lambert's cottage, ready to pounce upon given orders. Receiving a call earlier that said there were some occupants seen entering the cottage in Lorraine, they didn't think too much of it, but given the majority of the Hiwatari case, they would even jump at a small thread. Now that they had spotted someone - a young boy, to be exact - who seemed to fit the exact description given by the deputy, backup was repetitively requested. The atmosphere was positively crackling with electricity, each and every one of them alert on their toes.

With specific commands, they prowled quietly to the door of the cottage - and smashed the doors open, meeting the darkness of the rooms.

Daisuke twitched, mumbled something incoherent under his breath, twitched again and stifled a yawn. His body, for some strange, reason, felt sore all over; that much he could comprehend within the limits of his sleep-hazed mind. Though he instinctively knew he had lain on the cozy however decrepit couch, his thighs felt as if they were on fire, his muscles straining. Daisuke rearranged himself in a more snug position, still half-asleep. The ache didn't end there though. Now, it spread to his back; this time, the pain was enough to render him alert instantly.

"What's going on?" Daisuke groaned, rubbing his eyes. He blinked, rubbed his eyes again, this time harder, and then blinked again.

He was being forwarded up the spiraling stairs of the house. Why was that? Or more importantly, Daisuke began to realize with growing shock, why was he moving? Alarmed, Daisuke quickly fondled his fingers. They were cold, he realized, though he could move them.

//No... wait...!//

//I'm moving my fingers again... I can feel them too... so why...//

Daisuke tried to wriggle his hands. He felt the movements, and yet... yet...!

//Why the hell aren't my fingers actually moving?//

"What a boy you are - you should've realized it by now," someone commented in his ear, a tint of amusement laced in that deep voice. "No wait... sources tell me you're very well aware of what's going on - you just refused to face it!" Frantic, Daisuke swung around. It was not a feeling he rather liked, being trapped in some form or another and having someone playing mind games with him. No... Daisuke had more important things to do.

His heart flew in his throat, when suddenly, a looming stone wall neared him just around the corner. He tried to twist his limbs to avoid a potentially dangerous encounter with it, and when his legs absolutely refused to budge and continued forwards, Daisuke quickly shut his eyes, hoping that the impact wouldn't be as horrific as he'd imagined.

And suddenly, he was being yanked to the side, much to his disbelief, and just in time to avoid the wall although it left a barely perceptible cut on his cheek.

"Heh. Scared you, didn't I?" that masculine voice suddenly murmured in his ear, the amusement now unmistakable.

Daisuke stiffened, but he didn't turn around. He didn't need a mirror to know that his face had gone deathly white, the sallow fear like a slippery eel trailing down his spine, the shock that trapped his breath. "If running like this be the cure to this predicament, then let's run, to the ends of time, to the face of the earth."

"Run?" Daisuke echoed.

What was he talking about?

"Yes, we will run." His head - or rather, that someone who was controlling his head - turned around to an angle, just accurate enough to let Daisuke gradually become aware of the thundering footsteps and hurried noises that trailed along after them. "Run - not because of the thrilling dangers that it offers, mind you - but run, because I really don't have time to deal with all of... this."

Daisuke finally found his voice. "I don't know who you are, but would you be so kind as to agree to get out of my body if I told you to?" he asked, trying not to sound too frantic. "If you're the devil himself, then I don't have anything to offer you, really, I don't, I'm just a normal boy trying to survive in his country-"

"Devil?" that someone snorted, the sound utterly uncomfortable to Daisuke's ears. "You flatter me too much - and before I fall over laughing, I really want to say that we're one of a kind. You saw me before, you met me before - and you say you have no idea who I am? That's funny."

"That's a lie!"

"Believe in what you will, Daisuke, it certainly isn't my job to change your mind of what it is or what it isn't. To inflict pain onto you is to inflict pain onto myself. I'll leave it at that, since I'll take the assumption that you have enough brains to figure it out all by your own."

Daisuke, in the midst of his panic, couldn't help but feel indignant. But whatever he had to say at the moment was vanquished when they reached the highest floor of the house, an attic that reeked of dust and time. Drapes of cloth covered everything in the attic, with little hints sticking out from them that suggested old and possibly worn furniture. Only the windows were spectacular enough, made of premium multihued glass, that it transformed the moonlight that shone through into various colors that magnificently highlighted the room.

Daisuke found himself standing in front of the windows.

"W-What are you doing?"

Whoever was controlling him, had a decidedly strange twist of humor, one that Daisuke found he didn't appreciate. "Doing whatever it is you're thinking I'm about to do."

"You CANNOT be serious!"

The current host of his body laughed, the sound causing Daisuke to cringe, and at the same time, he was paralyzed.

Please no, no, no, no...

"To life and its everlasting grandeur. Let there be no casualties from what I'm about to do," Daisuke heard, the blood still rushing to his ears. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Daisuke."

Daisuke tried to twist his arms away, but predictably, they were spread wide, his chin unwillingly raised. Then, without any warning, his back tore open, his skin left unmarked and smooth as a baby's, but the pain as scorching and black as would a thousand needles pierced straight through his skin. Daisuke saw black feathers flutter down on him through welled-up eyes. A strange sensation burst within him, a hand that clawed and wrenched out the deepest core of his being, his strength zapped in that one instant. His hand was held high in the air.

Daisuke's heart jumped at his throat. Was he about to commit something drastic?

"...my name is associated with the blackest of nights, they say."

Edna Blight was hungry, wet and horny. Hungry, because she had stupidly forgotten to grab a few bites to eat along the way - wet, because her home was miles away and the rain didn't look as though it'll let up anytime soon - and horny, because her day didn't go well as much as the other hags. Either they didn't find her as attractive as her earlier days - which she highly doubted - or they must've wanted to get a feel of 'new' faces. She decided to settle for the latter. She'd have to settle for the sorry excuse of a husband with about as much libido as a frail baby's. A mold of clay, he was, that she must've slammed her head unknowingly when she agreed to marry him. A big, fat, blank, mold of clay - not even good enough to be considered a consolation prize.

Few wandering lurkers threw open and curious stares her way, obviously thrown off with her disheveled appearance - and with good reason too, with her hair frizzed wildly and her skirt hiked up a few good inches than appropriate, but when did she ever give a good damn about society and its protocol? Not now, not ever. Thrusting her chest forwards and giving an eyeful, she marched discordantly ahead with her chin lifted upwards, her heels clacking away on the pavement raucously, elbowing people out of her way.

A long and painful walk rewarded her with a deep silence and the twittering of crickets in the dark shadows of the avenue. Taking off her heels and walking bare-footed, she walked away from the roaming crowd, humming a song and attempting to sort out her hair. //Ah, this is dark... the night is dark, the moon glowing high... what mysteries lurk in the shadows while everyone drink themselves pitifully to oblivion tonight?//

There was a deep and muffled rumble, which she thought was thunder that struck in the skies and picked up her pace faster. Thunder didn't aggravate her so much as the neighborhood she was in now, where old crinkly ladies point and mock girls like her with disapproval, calling out names and, occasionally, hurling shoes at them. Besides that, there was that haunted cottage...

"Looks like trouble in Old Women Lambert's house tonight," someone called out. An elderly man was watering his plants, seemingly undisturbed about her guise. One point for the old guy.

"Do ya think so?" She didn't like old men. Thought they smelt like dried fish.

"Seems like it," he cackled. "Did you know how the house is mighty haunted? Thought it was just a load of nonsense from my wife, but with all that thumping noises," he made a gesture with his hands," when the house is supposed to be vacant, you sometimes gotta wonder."

She squinted. "Have yer eyes checked; if I didn't know any better, I'd say those are officers surrounding the house." Her interest was now piqued. She loved mysteries. "I'm taking a closer look at it."

Indeed, those were officers, from the looks of it. Oh, what incredible luck. Maybe her night wouldn't go so bad, after all. There was still time for a new catch, and that man with the tight uniform didn't look so bad... granted, his looks could do much better, but a further inspection at his body caused her to imagine how he'd look like in bed... instinctively, she ran her hands through her hair, suddenly sorely regretting she didn't take time to attend to her looks. She flipped her hair over her shoulders, wetted her lips and sauntered to the busy scene. //Sure looks like they're onto something. A thief, maybe? Unusually active, too... about time these bastards drag their sorry butts up and going.//

Then she heard the rumble again, louder, and this time, this was no thunder like she had previously thought. It actually originated from the cottage, Old Women Lambert's cottage, and, her attention momentarily caught, what seemed like a massive amount of footsteps, racing and zigzagging through the house before racing upwards once more... officers around her paid her no attention at all and was more sentient to the barking orders of their troops. //Just what the hell is going on?//

Just as she stepped backwards, a loud explosion resonated in her ears, a tremendous shattering of glass from every window of the two-storey cottage, the impact causing prickly glass to whiz sharply past her; the blast occurred so suddenly that she didn't have time to react, glued to her feet. As glass pelted her thin frame, she didn't register the dire pain nor that she was bleeding, her attention caught by the lingering dark shadow that hurled out of the window of the highest storey, plunging down with a speed unimaginable, and as she watched with amazed eyes, suddenly soared up to the skies just as it looked like it might pummel deep down into the earth, back and forth like a bird suddenly changing its direction... and it was a bird - a large bird, with the blackest of black feathers raining down the skies.

Then she realized it was too large to be a bird, as it flew in the skies, far away from the cottage and shrieking, outraged officers, its husky laughter echoed ceaselessly into the night. She sank to her knees. No, she didn't just see a person flying in the skies! That was ridiculous!

//But... my God, what in the world was that?//

Fortunately, there were no casualties, although some did receive quite a few critical injuries due to the loud explosion. While some were hastily contacting the medics, the others were already chasing after the criminal, even though there wasn't any sight of him anymore after he flew off in the skies. This was the startling bit: how in hell were they ever going to explain that their target had sprouted wings and flew off to God-knew-where, therefore, making them look like absurd fools? Even then, the mere idea of submitting their reports of the incident would've made them look like one. But while no one would believe them in a million years, save for some, what they saw tonight defied everything within the boundaries of common sense - but their eyes saw it. Wary and tired, they retired for the night, for a good night's sleep while they sought out the best way to handle this in the dawn of tomorrow's morning.

Despite the incident, there were no responses from nearby neighbors, most of them thinking that it was probably some break-in into the deserted cottage. Thieving was a common occurrence around the area, the wails and shouts from the French police becoming accustomed. There wasn't any need to go through the trouble of rising out of bed to peek out their windows and to see the episode happening. Why should they, when they already had their doors bolted up tightly and their windows shut and locked? Too many a time had exasperating sounds of windows being crashed in ensued; in the end, the thief would always be caught in the early morning.

Unfortunately for a lonesome boy who took one look at the cottage and dropped all his possessions, he had never been one to experience all these little happenings that most took for granted, having been sheltered far too long in the fragile case of an aristocratic world.

While it seemed customary to his neighbors, for him, it was when he knew that it was all over.

"Bad things keep happening, one after the other. A glaring cliché seemingly straight out of the books; how laughable. But it isn't - because this is truthfully reality. Disturbing, that word." A frustrated sigh. "There're some things that are out of the grasps of humans and unfortunately, I happen to be one of them."

Satoshi was mumbling to himself, hands clasped thoughtfully in front of him. After taking one look at the outside pavement of the cottage, where millions of shattered glass decorated the lawns like dead leaves shed in summer - even more startling, the sight of blood! - it didn't take him very long to pierce two and two together. He leaned against an overturned divan, staring upwards at the ceiling in interest as if it held the answers to all his questions. The living room wasn't much to look at either. Windows were smashed in, furniture was either destroyed or overturned, glass was everywhere... infuriating bastards; couldn't they've picked some other way to leave a message? Black feathers and upturned furnishings, leaving the house in a condition that was actually worse that it was previously, even destroying those little lamps Satoshi had grown fond of; the sight nearly made his temper rise, until the bleakness of the current situation forced logic in place of emotions.

However, judging by the startling amount of feathers around the room, it also didn't take much to figure out just who the captor and the quarry were.

//Black can be so emblematic//, he thought, rising with a sigh. //Looks like they didn't stand a chance, the poor fools.//

Picking up his discarded black waistcoat, he stepped out of the house. He slammed the door shut behind him with an echo of finality. What a shame too. //It was nice while it lasted//, Satoshi contemplated, his entire frame quivering from cold. He rubbed his hands together, trying to produce some warmth. //But eventually, all good things must come to an end.//

Bidding the abandoned cottage a silent goodbye, Satoshi buried his numb hands into the pockets of his coat and stepped away, the tail of his coat tagging swiftly behind him. The night seemed endless as he lumbered along, until he soon joined the faceless sea of roving citizens in the hectic avenue.

END