The second story of the Decagram: Family Matters a Tokyo Babylon/X fanfic by Ann-Kathrin Kniggendorf 1/209 Disclaimer "Tokyo Babylon" and all characters, institutions, locations and/or situations therefrom are copyright 2000 CLAMP, SHINSHOKAN Co., Tokyo. "X" and all characters, institutions, locations and/or situations therefrom are copyright 1992 CLAMP, Kadokawa Shoten Publishing Co., Ltd., Tokyo. "CLAMP Campus Detectives" and all characters, institutions, locations and/or situations therefrom are copyright 1997 CLAMP, Kadokawa Shoten Publishing Co., Ltd., Tokyo. No infringement is intended by their inclusion in this work. The author makes no claim of ownership to any of the characters, institutions, locations, and/or situations associated with "Tokyo Babylon", "X" and/or "CLAMP Campus Detectives". This is a piece of non-profit fan fiction. The real persons included in this chapter are used strictly in context of their public position at the time of this fiction. Characterizations are entirely fictitious. No insult of any kind is intended by their inclusion in this work. Credits Special thanks to Solo [http://solo.dreamwidth.org] my beta, who showed great patience and enthusiasm. The presentation of this story in its current state would not have been possible without her! Warnings, Spoilers, and Summary "Family Matters" as a whole is rated NC-17 for violence, crime, occultism, sexual connotations, alternative lifestyles, and a vocal tree having issues. Single chapters may be less restricted. As a direct sequel it may not make sense unless you know "36°". My stories are based solely on the German translation of the CLAMP manga books, therefore there might be differences in names and details from the English or Japanese editions. The second main story of the Decagram (Sequel to 36°) — Preventing the End of the World caused some side- effects Subaru is ill-prepared to deal with on his own. Story Codes and explicit Spoilers drama, Sei/Su, Fu/Ka, So/Ara, (Tree/Sei) Character Death, Infanticide, Incest, Minor(13), Lemon Tree (not 'Citrus aurantifolia' or 'Tilia'!), Necrophilia, Non- Con, T(h)reesome Tokyo Babylon Vols. 1, 2, 7, 11; Tokyo Babylon OVA 2; X Vols. 8, 10, 15-18, 18.5 Even the most extensive listing of story codes I've come across so far (AFF.net) doesn't list anything regarding "sex with plants", hence the "lemon tree" warning. Cross-Over with "20 Menso ni onegai!!" (Man of Many Faces) and "Gohou Drug" (Legal Drug) by CLAMP as well as "Combination" by Leeza Sei. Subaru's defense tactic and Seishiro's coffee mug in chapter 11 are courtesy of Solo, who allowed me to play with them after reading a scene from the X-WIP of Doom™. about Notation Pentacle, pentagram. I use both words in the strict sense in which the pentacle is a one-line five-pointed star with one tip up and the pentagram is a one-line five-pointed star with two tips up. The pentacle and the pentagram are inversions of each other. Hence, the symbol of the Sumeragi is the pentacle, the symbol of the Sakurazukamori is the pentagram. contact [email protected] 2/209 00 — Introduction: Winter Rain Tokyo nights. It was raining. Countless drops of a steady downpour fell on asphalt, glistening black in the dark on the street below. The wet surface reflected rainbow colors of traffic lights and neon ads, car lamps and shop windows, while the rain created a continuous pattern of sound, monotonous yet always in tune with the glittering, ever-changing lights. Five weeks ago, it had been freezing cold. There had been ice and snow and fog, encompassing a city that should have ceased to exist. Five weeks ago, the fate of the world should have been decided, and the decision had been thwarted — by Death. Death, who had granted life. Death, who now carried Life's marks on his hands. Subaru leaned against the partly open sliding door to the balcony of his Shinjuku apartment. Raindrops stuck to the pane, breaking the city lights into fragments. The thin thread of smoke from the cigarette in his hand curled and twisted to dissipate in the faint draft. The hand-wide gap let in the freshness and the sound of the falling winter rain together with the multitude of sounds of the restless city beneath it. He had come to find solace in its ever-changing, never-ending song, the constant reminder of its continued existence. The phone on the floor behind him rang, a discordant note in the endless pattern of city and rain. He made no move to answer it. After the third ring the answering machine took the call, playing the plain, uninformative message he'd recorded on returning from CLAMP campus. His grandmother had called a couple of times. He had preferred not to be there, not to answer the inquiries that she left on the tape about the End of the World, the battle and finally even his well-being. Too much had happened, too many questions needed to be answered before he would have any answers for others. And too much of him had changed; changes his grandmother wouldn't — and the previous Head of the Sumeragi couldn't — approve. =Subaru-san, if you are there, if you receive this call, please do call back, do contact us...= His grandmother's voice came hollow from the weak speakers of the AM. Subaru pulled a long, last drag from his dying cigarette and flipped its butt out into the night. ~:~:~:~:~ Rain thrummed loudly on Seishiro's black umbrella, competing with the music that wafted out of the brightly lit entrance into which his target had just disappeared. He knew the club, but not well enough... =Yes?= His call was finally answered by a rather sleepy operator. =Who is—= "I need the key data on the Farfalle down in Roppongi. Now," he snapped into the phone, impatient as another car rushed past, splattering most of the narrow sidewalk with dirty water. He was glad for the leather coat tonight; without it he'd have been thoroughly soaked by now despite the umbrella. The operator seemed to have woken up enough to realize the source of the order. The beeping of a PC, followed by rapid keystrokes came from the squeaky receiver of the small cellphone. A prepaid one, no tracking. Even with the trouble of disposal, the cells were a lot more convenient than having to search for a public booth. This one — as well as the temporarily assigned number — wouldn't last to the end of the night. =I have the information, sir. Club Farfalle, Roppongi, owned by Miyage Tetsuo. One of the most frequented clubs in Tokyo these days and certainly one of the largest. Multiple interconnected floors around a central dome holding the dance floor. Entrance on the first level. Clientele depending on event. Tonight that would be salarymen and their companions, average age about thirty. Expect heavy security and high entrance fees. Shall I try to sneak in a pre-booked invitation?= "Not necessary." Seishiro disconnected the cell and removed the battery. Slipping the cloakroom ticket into his pocket, Seishiro worked his way through the crush. The din of voices and music on three levels was deafening. He crossed over to the bar and exchanged the two drink tickets included in the exorbitant cover charge for a single glass of acceptable liquor served on a small tray with proper aplomb. He leaned his back against the bar and, nursing his drink, inconspicuously scanned the establishment for his target. 3/209 'Heavy surveillance' meant there would be cameras — visible and invisible — with human operators in front of a battery of monitors. He didn't know where in the building the operators sat and at what distance, so he couldn't influence them directly. And there was also the risk of camera records being kept for a day or two. It would have to be death from natural causes. A set of circular stairs went up to the VIP lounges hanging like nests on the second level; another set circled down to the overflowing dance floor. Stroboscopic lights scattered over the dancers, sometimes highlighting a dress in the frantic rhythm of the electronic beat that gave the pulse to the crowd. The target was down there. Seishiro was sure of that. He emptied the glass in a single swig and left it on the tray. The basses were strong enough to be felt rather than heard. Seishiro's pulse and breathing became faster, involuntarily chasing after the rhythm. Annoyed, he countered the effect on his way down. The dance floor was crowded to the point where the press of the swaying bodies developed its own tide, not always in synch with the music. The Farfalle wasn't his type of club. He preferred more exclusive ones; more exclusive regarding the number of guests per square meter at least. Multicolored lights glittered on and around him. Occasionally, the red spotlight made the crimson dress of his random dance partner translucent. Her dilated pupils told him of Ecstasy or something stronger. She danced sensually close with her hands on his shoulders, playing with her dress riding up on the cloth of his pants. A whiff of heavy, extravagant perfume hung about her— —like the shadow hung about the dancer behind her. Seishiro focused with sharp, cold determination. The hiding spell he whispered under the beat of the music was simple; hiding something in plain sight had once been a childhood's game. It made people's attention skirt away from the bespelled object — or person — and anything that might connect them with it.