Disclaimer: Eerie Queerie (Ghost!) belongs to Shuri Shiozu, Shinshokan & TOKYOPOP. Rally owns Emma Blair.
Author's Note: AAC stands for Anime Assassin Corps. It's the web personalities on the Anime Hit List, one of my alternate websites. On that site my personality is Kawaii. Here I'm just using the name as a prop, but if you'd like to know more about the AAC and the Anime Hit List click here.
"Yes, you was," replied Mitsuo in possibly the harshest tone Hasunuma had ever heard him use. "You were ranting about something being here and you tried to get me to leave." There was genuine concern in his tone.
Hasunuma looked up to find the same emotion on Mitsuo's face and then he noticed the smaller boy's disheveled appearance, hair mussed from sleeping, one leg of his pajama bottoms hiked up almost to the knee, red welts on each wrist. Hasunuma winced and then very slowly took one of Mitsuo's hands in his own, lightly brushing the ugly marks. "I'm sorry," he breathed, realizing he was the cause of the injury.
Mitsuo reclaimed his hand. "For what? Trying to protect me? Don't be stupid. Just tell me what happened. What's the last thing you remember?"
The last thing Hasunuma remembered was loosing the rock-paper-scissors challenge for the bed and then bunking down on the floor for the night. Then... nothing.
Nothing... "There was darkness spread out all around me and it was so hot I thought I would choke and I remember someone being pissed off, really pissed off, and asking what I had done to someone who was supposed to be there. Then, it got so hot I think I screamed." Hasunuma broke out of his reverie, startled that he'd spoken aloud.
"And then," prompted Mitsuo, without any hint of teasing, green eyes shining with belief.
"And then..." The shadows were breathing, his psyche reminded him and fear trickled down his face like sweat, but he clamped down on a reaction. He'd already caused Mitsuo enough trouble and damage. He frowned at sight of the smaller boy's wrists again. "That's it. I don't remember anything else. Just you."
Hasunuma laughed. It was the most horrible sound Mitsuo had ever heard, shattered glass over a broken will. It was the sound of lost hope. Mitsuo angled his head down to peer past the fringe of the taller boy's bangs, he whimpered at the tears boring channels through Hasunuma's cheeks. Mitsuo's blood ran cold. Hasunuma didn't cry. He couldn't cry. Could he?
The blond took the initiative to slide closer, placing a reassuring hand on Hasunuma's clenched fists. "Hasunuma, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
Watery-blue eyes pleaded, begged. "Don't leave me alone." It was less than a whisper and then Hasunuma collapsed into Mitsuo's arms unconscious.
The weight of the taller boy's body dragged Mitsuo the rest of the way to the plush carpet. It took the boy a full two minutes to crawl out from under the limp form and once he was free he bolted for his only ally.
She belatedly realized that she'd spoken in English and that Mitsuo's Japanese rantings weren't registering on her sleep-addled brain. "Wait! Wait! Wait!" she demanded, still in English, waving her hand in a motion of negation. Mitsuo caught the hint and fell silent. Wake up, Emma Blair! She slapped her cheeks with both hands and shook her head. Okay, she could do this. "Nani?" she inquired sweetly.
"Something's wrong with Hasunuma." Oh, good it worked. See the ol' ticker's a-functioning again. "He passed out and won't wake up."
"What happened?" She snatched her robe on the way out the door. The boy didn't respond, just continued his trek to the other bedroom. When Emma caught up, Mitsuo was staring at Hasunuma's doll-like form, biting his bottom lip and clenching his fists. "What happened?" she repeated. "Why did he pass out?"
"I don't know." Well, that wasn't very useful.
"Did he hit his head or something?" She was already on her knees, checking him over for injuries, but finding none.
"No. He had a nightmare or something and then freaked out."
Okay, she didn't like the sound of that. "Freaked out?" Before the boy had a chance to respond, Emma did a quick scan of the room. All of her physical wards were still in place and a mental check ensured that her magical wards were intact as well.
"He insisted that there was something here."
"Impossible," Emma blurted. "The wards are untouched."
"Believe me, I know," began Mitsuo, slipping next to Hasunuma and then reaching out to grasp one of the slack hands, "I didn't sense anything either."
Like a compass needle is pulled to the north, Emma's focus was drawn to those hands. One small, firm hand gripping the long, graceful fingers of a pianist. Superimposed over the smaller hand was the vision of a larger, stronger hand, a hand that sparked a burning rage. The fire consumed Emma's will, bitch-slapping her personality to a back corner of her mind. Emma watched herself smack those hands apart, breaking the bond that was always meant to stay broken. "For the last time, Michael. Stay away from my Hannah. She's mine!"
"Emma-chan?"