Even though the futon was still warm where Haruka had lain only minutes before, Kantarou felt a cold chill race down his spine.  He rolled over into the warmer space and closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to sleep until Haruka returned.

  Outside the rain was falling hard again, but now it was comforting rather than oppressive and Kantarou smiled broadly into his pillow, remembering Haruka’s soft kisses the night before.  When this was all over, he thought, he would take them all to an onsen or something.  That was, of course, if Suzuki-san paid them well.  Still, they hadn’t been in ages and they all needed the rest.  Although he would never admit it, Kantarou felt completely drained from all the misadventures of the past week and at that moment probably didn’t even have the strength to exorcise even the weakest of youkai. 

He imagined the hot water around him, easing his aching limbs, cold rain falling on his head and shoulders, massaging away memories of that room and those eyes.  And Haruka would be next to him, whining about the temperature and how he hated onsen.  Haruka would call him annoying and stupid and lazy but Kantarou wouldn’t mind because he would know that Haruka meant it in a nice way.  Then they would go back to their room and Kantarou would pat his tengu apologetically and maybe find ways to make him feel better…

  Kantarou buried his face deep in the pillow to hide his lascivious thoughts from the world.  It was early still, and Youko might come in any minute to turf him out of bed.  At least she wouldn’t find Haruka in his bed again.  Burying himself deeper into the covers, Kantarou wondered what the tengu was doing now.  The demon was strong; he had felt that easily enough.  In the darkness of his closed eyes Kantarou saw it again; that room, walls red, walls black and eyes everywhere, watching him hungrily.  It was like in his dream, he remembered.  He was lying in bed in the dream too, when the demon with red wings came for him.  The demon had killed him easily in the dream.  Kantarou had been weak and alone.  But it was not like that now, Kantarou thought, trying to push away the uncomfortable feelings of familiarity.  Because Haruka would come back and be beside him again.  Except he wasn’t here now.

  Kantarou looked up and twisted around.  For one terrifying moment he had been certain the demon would be standing there beside his futon, waiting for him.  But there was nothing there.  Still, Kantarou felt uneasy.  He turned over and sat up, looking warily around the room.  He felt something.  It was vague and undefined, but definitely there.  That feeling, deep in his stomach, churned and grew as he sat in silence on the futon.  The world felt wrong, and Kantarou found himself hoping Haruka was all right.  The demon was strong, and added to it was the fury of innumerable aggravated souls.  Kantarou, for the first time, wondered if Haruka would really be strong enough to just simply exorcise them all.  It was strange, but Kantarou couldn’t imagine why he had thought it would be so easy.  Now it was like he was waking up from delirious sleep, unsure of what he had said and done.  But he knew he had sent Haruka to that house.

  Leaping out of bed, Kantarou dressed furiously, cursing his own weakness.  He had been manipulated and he knew it.  Ever since that dream…no, even before that.  Since the first time he entered that room, the demon had been there with him.  But he had not seen it.  He cursed again, the typing of the knot of his hakama taking too long.  The only thing he could think of was getting to Haruka, promise or no.  Kantarou needed to know what the demon wanted, and this was the only way. 

  Pulling a jacket on, Kantarou was half-way to the door of his room when a sudden flash of pain ripped through his head.  He stumbled, gripping his face and crying out in agony.  For what seemed like forever he couldn’t see anything but light burning behind his eyelids.  There were voices, hateful, gleeful, and so loud.  Kantarou tried not to listen to them.  He covered his ears tightly, but they only seemed to get louder.  Then he knew the demon was there with them.  But the girl, the daughter, Kirara was not.  She was there.  Not in his dream.  Not in his room.  But behind his own eyes, clawing at his own mind.  It hurt, and his instincts told him to stop fighting the voices, but Kantarou knew to do that was to give up his very soul.  Kirara, in his mind, raged against him.  Kantarou thought of Haruka.  He could not die.  To do so was to kill the one most precious to him.  He could see now what it was that she wanted; his body, so she could live again. 

  When Kantarou opened his eyes, he knew they were not his own.  The pain was still there in his head, but it was lesser now.  It was not just his mind anymore.  But the voices in his ears still echoed.  They wanted him, the demon wanted him, but Kantarou would not give up his body.  The demon whispered promises and possibilities; “Haruka will be safe,” it said, “You will never feel pain again,” it said.  Lies! Lies! Kantarou thought, falling to his knees that were no longer just his knees.  The demon showed him Haruka; “This is what I’ll do,” it said, and killed him over and over, the image surreally overlaid with the sight of his room.  Haruka is strong, Kantarou thought, Kantarou told the demon, Kantarou tried to convince himself.

  Suddenly, the door was flung open and Youko ran in, crying Kantarou’s name.  He couldn’t so much as hear it as see it.  She knelt down in front of him and took his shoulders, calling his name, asking what was wrong.  Kantarou wanted to tell her to run away, to get away from him, but his mouth was no longer his own and he found he did not have the strength to force speech from his body.  The demon was still there, pulling him away, and it took all his strength just to remain in his own mind. 

  “Kan-chan!  Please talk to me!  What’s wrong?”  Youko looked panicked and terrified.  He felt the muscles in his face form a smile, but was sure he had not done that, then his arms reached out and took Youko by the throat.  His hands tightened and Youko coughed and tried desperately to pry them off.  “I’ll kill her,” the Kirara in his head told him.  “Give up this body or I’ll kill her.”  Kantarou could not.  He could not give up Haruka, and he could not hand the power of the Demon-eating tengu over to anyone.  Even so, he could not allow Youko to die either, so with all the will he could summon he focused on his hands.  Slowly, slowly they loosened their grasp. 

  “Run,” Kantarou ground out.  He drew his hands back and sat, frozen, staring at Youko as Kirara fought to regain control.  Tears fell down her pale face.

  “Kan-chan…” she sobbed, but made no move to leave.  For once, Kantarou was thankful for the name bond.

  “Youko,” he said deliberately.  “Run away from me.  Now.”  Youko started to draw away from him slowly.  She was fighting the order, he could tell, but there was nothing she could do.  When she reached the door, she took one last look back before disappearing out onto the corridor.  Kantarou would have smiled if he could have.  Kirara was furious.  Kantarou could see her thoughts, just as she his.  She was afraid she would not be able to gain control of his body now before it died from the strain.  “I will have what I want,” she told him again.  Before he could stop her, he was on his feet and running down the stairs, heading outside.  On the street, Kirara looked wildly around with his eyes, then tore off up the road.  He could feel now her all-consuming desire for revenge.  If she could not have his body, she would at least have that.  “And maybe if we murder them,” she thought, “you will be less inclined to keep this life.”  With every step they ran, he realized, he lost a little more of himself.