Memory is a blessing. Or so a considerable number of people will tell you, given the slightest excuse. Sometimes even during a completely unrelated conversation. Generally, these are people so absent-minded themselves that they can barely remember that morning, let alone last year. I can understand that -- wanting what you don't have. Once in a while, though, it will be someone who does have a good memory, and that puzzles me. They should know better. Memory is a curse. One thing you must understand: I've always possessed a strong memory. I could tell you the day and date I started school, the full name of every student in my class, and describe in detail the clothes I was wearing. It's not what people refer to as 'photographic' -- although it could be; I later discovered how to use my Gift that way -- but it's very good. You might suppose, then, that more of those memories would be pleasant ones. But no. Part of that is because of what we did that day, our little experiment that seemed like such a good idea at the time. Karmic balance, perhaps. But only part of it. Even if we hadn't inadvertantly set so much in motion... There's a lot that I'd be perfectly happy to forget. If only I could. Oh, I have the ability to. My Gift can do that, too, now. But I don't dare. What happened once could happen again, and who other than myself could prevent it? Precious few. And no matter how we explain, we could never hope to convey the experience. I'll tell you this, though: If I were to try to pinpoint the moment when I first began to realize exactly how much trouble I -- we -- were in... It would have to be that conversation with Judou. - = - Wings of Fate Chapter 7: One For Sorrow by Scott Schimmel created by John Evans and Ardweden - = - I suppose it really began with a dream. Yes, I know I said I don't remember my dreams -- which is pretty odd, considering how much of my waking life I can recall -- but I digress. This dream was very lucid. The exception that proved the rule, if you will. In the dream, I stood alone in a clear, grassy space. I could see the Tokyo skyline in the distance, surrounding me, but not the skyline I knew. Most of the buildings were... shattered, sporadically crumbling. Some still burned, tinging what little of the sky I could see. Closer, and slightly to one side of me, the Tokyo Tower stood, partially collapsed, twisted upon itself almost as though a gargantuan child had grasped it in one enormous, clumsy fist. On its shattered skeleton, Akari's body was hung. Crucified, I should say. Her eye sockets gaped open and vacant, thin trails of dried blood streaked her cheeks. There were other bodies piled around the base of the tower, making Akari the centerpiece of a ghoulish diorama. I recognized Shuukou's face among them. And behind them, behind the tower, there was an immense bird, a raven whose outspread wings spanned from horizon to horizon, whose shadow fell over the gruesome scene like an ex-lover's embrace. No, not a crow, a raven. I knew because it had shiny feathers. Crows' are duller. Is it important? Maybe. I'm not the one with the prophetic dreams, but I have to admit, it's a large enough coincidence to seriously strain credibility. There probably is no way to know for sure. I find that rather refreshing, really. Anyway, the dream -- we're nearly finished. The bird shrieked, just once, a loud and echoing wail. Its wings beat, once, twice -- from the corner of my eye, I saw some of the smaller buildings tumbling like so much discarded newspaper in their wake, though I felt nothing -- and it broke apart, splitting itself into a million smaller birds. Which proceeded to fly straight up into the flame-dyed sky, wheel with clockwork grace, and dive en masse straight toward me. That was when I woke up. You know that a group of crows is called a murder. But do you know what a group of ravens is? An unkindness. Don't you think that's funny? - = - Judou was more nervous than I'd ever seen him, and if you know what a habitual worrier he is, you know that's saying a lot. The first indication had been the telephone call itself. Would he have gone that far simply to apologize about a little puzzle? There had to have been something else on his mind. In any case, all doubts I might have had would have been dispelled the moment I answered my door. Judou looked almost as haggard as I felt. Yes, still. I'm not sure just what I did to Soshi, even now, but it took a lot out of me. Even more than my attempts to use my mind-influencing Gift on a mindless object. I knew that that-- Oh? All right, suit yourself. I won't come back to this later, though. I took in Judou's gaunt, haunted appearance briefly before I stepped back and waved him in. "You look like hell." I know, that was rather blunt, but I was tired, and it was Judou, and... well, he did. "That makes two of us." He didn't even crack a smile when he said that, just hurried in and shut the door. "Kenchi, we need to talk." I nodded, ushering him forward. "Have a seat," I suggested, mostly because I didn't want to watch him incessantly pacing the length of my living room. It was only a partial success: He sank down into the closest chair quickly enough, but his hands fluttered restlessly. Finally, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out my Rubik's Cube. "I brought this," he said needlessly. "Fine." I sat, myself. Standing while conversing with a sitting person tends to make that person uneasy, and Judou didn't need any help in that department. "Now, do you want to tell me what's bothering you? Or am I supposed to guess?" He jumped a little, because of my perception, I suppose, although it wasn't terribly difficult. Then he sat back, and began twisting the cube between his hands. "Some more problems have come up." "Are they more serious or less serious than the problem of people we don't know sending shadows to kill us?" Believe it or not, I meant that with perfect seriousness. Priorities, you know. "I think some of it's related." He frowned thoughtfully. "Okay." I drew that word out for a while -- a transparent attempt, I'm afraid, to buy myself some time to think. It worked, though. "Start with the unrelated part," I said. Judou nodded, a little uncertainly, and fished an envelope out of the same pocket that my cube had been in. "There's this, for one thing." I glanced inside at the long, sleek black feather, read the note out loud. "'We saw you, Soshi.' So this would be..." "From my 'family,'" he confirmed. "They must have broadcast that interview." "Interview... that was a bad idea." I shook my head. "Never mind. It's too late now -- somebody's noticed. What are they going to do? Are they angry?" "Hard to say." He tugged lightly on his nose and grimaced. "Maybe they won't do anything. Maybe they'll just watch. They could be amused. But can we take the chance?" "No." I'm sure he knew what my answer would be, but I said it anyway. "But by the same token, we can't do anything about them. Can we?" It was Judou's turn to shake his head. "If they've decided to confront us -- or me -- we'll know soon enough. If not, we don't want to do anything to change their minds." "The last thing we need is another enemy," I agreed. I might have unintentionally picked that out of Judou's mind, actually. When I'm tired, I occasionally do that -- just fragments of surface thoughts, enough to finish other people's sentences or the like. Not actual mind reading. That's not the sort of thing I'd do... I do have my moral limits, you know. Despite what Akari seems to think, for instance, I do not use my Gift to convince women to sleep with me. My natural charisma is quite enough for that, thank you. And I'm sure having money doesn't hurt, either. But back to the conversation. "What else?" It took Judou a moment to realize what I was referring to. "Another problem? Well, it involves Shuukou..." "Shuukou? What has she done?" No doubt that seems an insensitive response. It wasn't meant that way. It simply never crossed my mind that Shuukou might be the object of the trouble, rather than its cause. She never had been. She was the strong one, the self-reliant individualist. "It's not that... well, maybe it is, in a way. Soshi said--" "Soshi has something to do with this?" That in itself is enough to make me suspicious. Justifiably so, I should think. After all, look what his arrogance brought about. But that's for later. Right now... I won't bore you with the details, since you've already heard them. Suffice it to say that Judou gave me a capsule summary of what Soshi had said regarding Shuukou's supposed loss of control. "I don't believe it for a minute," I said, when he had finished. Judou leaned forward in his chair. "I had the same reaction at first. But what if he's right?" I folded my hands together. "She's the most controlled of us all," I argued, "including me. She's the last one who would need to worry about that." "Maybe so... I'd like to think so. But..." He hesitated, and I wasn't certain he'd continue. "In college, she wasn't so... extreme." I nodded reluctantly. "Oh, she's changed. We all have. But losing her soul? I don't see it. If anything, Soshi is the one in danger of that. He's controlling himself to such an extent that I might think it's stopped being a means for him and started being an end." In hindsight, my biases were more apparent than I'd thought. That doesn't mean that I was incorrect, though. It may be coincidence, but in the days to come, Soshi fared worse than the rest of us. I'm surprised that what he went through didn't leave him permanently insane. Come to think of it, perhaps it did. Mind you, he deserved every bit of it. I've no sympathy for him, after some of the things he did. But I wonder, nevertheless. The argument lasted a while, and we still hadn't come to a resolution when the other shoe dropped. The topic had drifted to Soshi's recent experiment, and the mention of the business card triggered Judou's memory. "That's the other thing I wanted to talk about. I think I saw one of the people who're sending the shadow monsters after us." It's impossible for me to convey the range of emotions that statement produced in me. Shock was first and foremost. I stared speechlessly -- I think my jaw may have actually dropped open. "It was when I did that interview," he proceeded to explain. "There was a man in a beige suit there. He wanted to talk to that reporter, Yamada. He said he was a representative of a production company, and they were shooting a movie--" "Yes... I think I saw something about that in the paper this morning." In fact, I knew I had -- my memory, again. But people like a bit of ambiguity in such statements. "Right. I saw a segment from Yamada about that, too. It looks like the media bought his story... but you and I both know that there is no movie." "He's definitely up to something," I affirmed. Pointless, I know, but I was just using the words to buy myself time to think. Something was niggling at the edge of my mind, and I didn't quite realize what it was for a moment. "And it definitely involves us, at least indirectly..." That's when it suddenly struck me. "When did you see that news segment?" "The one with Yamada? Um..." He frowned slightly. "Right before I called you." "Live?" "I think so... why?" Something glacial brushed against my heart. "Oh, shit." "Huh?" I think my reaction shocked Judou. I'm not especially prone to using profanity, so that probably added to the effect. But, well... it was an appropriate sentiment. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to breathe evenly. "This Yamada is the reporter who interviewed you." "Right." Obviously, he didn't get it, so I gave it to him. "The same reporter who we saw yesterday in a room with one of those shadow things." Judou nearly swallowed his tongue as things clicked into place. I'd thought he'd looked pale before, but now all the blood had drained from his face. "We've got to get out of here. Now," I urged. I was on the edge of panic at that point, I don't mind admitting it -- after all, whatever was wrong with Yamada, had been for hours, and we were just now noticing. And I was pretty sure that they knew where I lived. This is not exactly a state of affairs conducive to serenity. Judou was on his feet only a fraction of a second behind me. "We've got to let the others know. Get Akari," he said. "We can take her to Soshi's place, and--" "No. They know Soshi's place." My heartbeat was still pounding, my breaths ragged, but my thoughts were relatively clear. "You contact him. Take him to... Akari's. They know Soshi's home, yours, probably mine, but they might not know where she lives." Look, I can be wrong, too, okay? Besides, at the time, neither of us knew about what had happened to Akari at the hospice. Regardless, Judou accepted that. "What about you?" "I'm going to kill two birds with one stone." I met his eyes, just for a moment, and saw the familiar flicker of fascination, out of place as it was, pass across his face. "I'm going to go see Shuukou." - = - Author's apologies: This week, I faced massive overtime at work, and an unexpected family emergency. As such, this chapter is shorter than I would have liked, and less polished. I hope it's not too disappointing. Many thanks to Phoebe and Ravi for twelfth-hour prereading.