X Therapy
by Taryn, Leareth and Naanima
Chapter Four - "Wet Dreams"
"So," asked Seiichiro, "what's next?"
The Therapist didn't answer him. She was too busy rubbing her temples wondering how many aspirin tablets she could take without suffering overly drastic consequences. It felt as if she had been running this so-called Therapy session for months, or even years. Which she had, but since she was only an original character in a satirical fanfic, she had no way of knowing that.
"Helloo~o, we're waiting," whined Kamui, shifting restlessly in his seat.
"So have all the readers," Satsuki retorted moodily.
Sorata blinked. "Readers?"
Satsuki held up her laptop computer, which was showing a Hotmail Inbox with its capacity indicator dangerously in the red zone. "Update nagging."
"Huh?"
"Get used to it," Seishirou threw in. It should be noted that Subaru was still in his lap who despite a facial expression to the contrary, wasn't making much effort to get away. "I've been waiting months to get a little closer here."
Kusanagi glared. Meantime, the Therapist suddenly found herself wondering if the room was air-tight, and whether it would be possible for her to slip away and inject some Zykklon-B in. "Shut complaining," snapped the burly soldier. "At least you actually get some."
Satsuki surfed a little on her laptop. "Out of all of us here, the ones who actually 'get some' are the Sakurazukamori, the Sumeragi, Kamui, and /Kamui/. In fact, they get so much it's ridiculous! I mean, c'mon … we have the Sakurazukamori slashed with Keiichi for Kami's sake."
"What?!" demanded Subaru hotly.
Seishirou blinked. "Keiichi? Who's that?"
Kamui was making choking sounds. Yuzuriha whacked him on the back. Satsuki nodded at him. "My point exactly." She made a face. "No one even seems to like wire-porn with me."
"Strange, that," commented Yuuto. "I thought tentacle porn was more popular than that. I mean, there's even snake porn in what's that series called, 'Descendants of Darkness' or whatever."
Now it was the Therapist's turn to choke.
"Did you find that interesting, Yuuto-san?" asked Satsuki, eyes bright all of a sudden.
Yuuto sweatdropped. "Er …"
"How come all of those guys get some?" asked Karen. "What ever happened to straight? I mean, look at me. My first appearance was in lacy lingerie that barely covers up my curves, you'd think some people would exploit that."
"Exploit with who, Karen-san?" asked Fuuma sweetly. "I bet you're just dying to be put with–"
Karen fireballed him. The Therapist blinked once, then twice, then pretended to be very busy with her notebook, thinking she must have been seeing things after such a long time in the same room as this bunch of asylum-escapees.
'Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.' wrote the Therapist's pen.
Fuuma climbed back into his chair smoking a little. "Ahem," his Kamui-ness of the Dragons of Earth coughed. "Why, Karen-san, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, all of us are allowed our little fantasies. Want to know mine?" He leered at Kamui.
"I wouldn't touch your fantasies with a ten-foot pole," snapped Karen.
"Believe me, you don't want to," murmured Kakyou. "Then again, there are some people here whose dreams you wouldn't want to touch with a fifty-foot pole."
"Dream?" asked Nataku cluelessly. "Is that a two-page spread with feathers and glass?"
"Uh, no," said Kamui.
"Then what is it?"
Kakyou launched into a very long and convoluted philosophical explanation that left the emotionally immature bioroid lost after two sentences and the Therapist gritting her teeth as all the basics of Psychology 101 were braided around like a CLAMP plot-twist. It probably didn't help that Fuuma kept butting in with overly-graphic colloquial descriptions about dreams of the damp variety.
"… 'Shoot his load'?" asked the bioroid helplessly.
Finally the Therapist lost her temper. "Dreams," she snapped, "are things that relieve us of the stresses of reality. Some of them are more pleasant than real life, some more terrible. Nevertheless, we do things in dreams we wouldn't normally do in reality. We might 'feel things' or 'think things' or 'say things' in our fantasies that we wouldn't dare to do in real life."
"What she said," shrugged Kakyou.
"I dream about Miss!" announced Sorata waving his hand about. Arashi cringed in her seat.
"We're all so happy for you," said the Therapist snippily. Now that she had started talking, everyone was listening, which was good since she needed control over the group again. Not that she was thinking about the fact that these people could very easily wrest that control away from her, oh no. "Actually, that's an idea. Our next exercise shall be to explore your dreams."
The 'what the hell?' eyes she got from around the room was response enough.
"This should be fun," murmured Kakyou.
"Half the story takes place in Dreamscape anyway, so why not?" sighed Kamui morosely.
"Therefore, the next part of our therapy session will be going over your dreams, examining what it is they mean to you and what they could possibly do to help you with our problems." The Therapist looked around the circle and at the guarded faces surrounding. "Dreams are very important, and I feel it's very important for you to share yours with me."
"Blah, blah, blah ..." Fuuma muttered not-nicely.
The Therapist and half the people in the room glared at him. Fuuma was the center of hate at the moment ever since his outburst in the previous chapter. Even the Therapist had considered sending him out, but decided professionally that sending the source of the problem away would not solve much. "Anyway, I want us all to be as open as possible. Let's start with you, Yuzuriha," the Therapist said, figuring it would be best to start with a (relatively) less-weird patient. "Do you remember what you dream about?"
Yuzuriha looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't think I can remember any of them, if I dreamt at all."
The Therapist fake-smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, Yuzuriha. No one will judge or make fun of you."
Yuzuriha took a deep breath as if summoning up the courage to speak. "It was about my dog. I dreamt he was visible and everyone liked me. I got to go to school again, and people actually talked to me. It was nice, because the ones who still made fun of my hair got slaughtered by Inuki."
Silence.
"Er ..." Fuuma said.
"Well, Yuzuriha," the Therapist said, scribbling a few notes in her pad about repressed violent tendencies and laughing nervously, "thank you for sharing with us. Perhaps we should–"
"And then they were screaming and screaming as my giant dog tore them limb from limb." Yuzuriha was starting to get a disturbing gleam in her eyes. "But I wouldn't even go near them. They weren't my friends then and they wouldn't be my friends now. I let them die horrible agonizing deaths at my feet while they begged for mercy. I wouldn't allow it! Inuki just kept on ..."
Everyone was definitely judging her; she noticed by the way all their mouths were open and gaping. Karen looked rather pale as did Kamui, who kept glancing nervously at the spot next to Yuzuriha's chair. Eventually Yuzuriha trailed off and slumped in her seat. The Therapist cleared her throat and lied through her teeth. "There is nothing wrong with Yuzuriha's dream. She was simply relieving everyday stress through her fantasies. I'm sure we're all lucky she chose to do that in her sleep ..."
Everyone silently agreed, and Yuzuriha looked miserable. "I ... I didn't mean to ..."
"It's all right, Yuzuriha. Thank you for sharing," the Therapist said brusquely, moving down her random list. "Karen, you shoot."
"Fire. Burning church. Mom screaming." Karen's face had no emotion. "And me seven years old cooking marshmallows in the fire with my teddy."
More silence.
"Oh-kaa~ay..." Yuuto said, his own eyes a little disturbed.
"Aren't we forgetting something … or someone?" asked Fuuma, one eyebrow raised.
"None of your damned business!" snapped the Soap-girl.
The Therapist scribbled something about natural born killers and looked over to Seiichiro. "You?"
He smiled kindly. "I, actually, had a pleasant dream last night. My wife and daughter were safe after the final fight. I was free to get a divorce and move back to Tokyo."
"A divorce?" the Therapist, suddenly intensely interested in the meanest way possible. "I didn't know you wanted to get a divorce ..."
"I don't." Seiichiro adjusted his glasses on the end of his nose, pushing them up a bit. "It's my dream, right? Not reality."
"True, true," the Therapist said, folding her hands in her lap and leaning towards Seiichiro unconsciously. "But sometimes we go after what we can't have but want terribly in our dreams. Sometimes we don't even notice it until we dream about them first."
"I didn't want Inuki to hurt people," Yuzuriha pointed out.
"It varies for everyone. Obviously, Seiichiro-san here doesn't relieve stress in his dreams like you do, does he? Instead he goes for what he wants and accomplishes his goals."
"But I said I didn't want a divorce," Seiichiro said.
"You're doing all the boring people," Fuuma said, leaning his chair back against the wall. "I want to know what kind of wet dreams Kamui has."
"No," Kakyou said smoothly. "You don't."
Kamui blushed violently.
"ExCUSE me would you PLEASE stop INTERRUPTING us!" The Therapist exploded biting off the end of each word. "OR I WILL have you EXCUSED!"
"Geeeeeeeeez~" Fuuma said, glowering in his chair. "Sorrieeee...But haven't you been avoiding my team?"
"You're right," the Therapist said, glaring. "Let's do Kusanagi."
"He doesn't count," Fuuma shot back. "'Cause he's a good guy."
"Aren't we all good guys?" It seemed as if Karen was having a breakthrough, but no one seemed to notice.
"Kusanagi? Perhaps you'd like to share some of your dreams with ..."
"Kakyou," Fuuma nodded.
"Do I have to?" the dreamseer whined softly, looking down in his lap shyly.
Fuuma got up and walked over to Kakyou, putting a comforting arm around him and looking sweetly into his face to the delight of many fangirls. The Therapist raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to deal with this gentle side of the schizophrenic. "Please?" Fuuma asked.
"But ... but ... they'll all get mad at me."
"OH MY GOD!"
The whole party, quite alarmed, turned towards the door of the room to see a young Caucasian girl with dark brown eyes and long brown hair come bursting in wearing a distressed expression.
"OH MY DEAR, SWEET JESUS!" she wailed, covering her face with her hands. "What AM I going to do?"
The Therapist looked quite alarmed, but most of the other patients noticed the girl and began to look very nervous indeed, Subaru especially. He rubbed his wrists and looked afraid.
"My god! My god!" she screeched, running into the circle of chairs dramatically. "Things were so much more easier before, with the timeline! I mean, we both easily circumnavigated the whole 'Seishirou being dead' and 'Subaru doesn't have an eye' thing, but I'm afraid this is all my fault for taking so long to write this damn chapter because now Subaru has a new eye–" she gestured madly in Seishirou's direction, "–HIS eye, no less, and is evil, but noooooo! THAT'S not the problem, nosireebob, hell, that's not very important at all!"
"It's kind of important to me!" Subaru said, looking a little angry.
"Oh PLEASE!" the girl ranted wildly. "The only thing that could be more fucked up then you getting Seishirou's good eye is if–"
"I came back for some erotic revenge?" Seishirou quipped.
"If THEY," here she pointed in Sorata and Arashi's direction, "were to SLEEP TOGETHER!!"
Silence. Perfect, deathly silence.
Broken, of course, by Sorata swinging into a merry round of 'Who Let the Dogs Out' but stopped luckily by Fuuma, who promptly broke a chair over Sorata's head.
"Oh my god!" the Therapist cried, watching Sorata hit the rug.
"Oh my god!" Fuuma echoed, staring at Arashi with an odd expression. "You didn't!"
"SHE DID!" the writer screeched. The door opened and a Chinese girl ran over with a heavy book labeled 'CRIMINAL LAW' and began to hit the other girl with it.
"BAD!" she yelled, hitting her without mercy. "Self-inserts are BAD!"
And so Crazy-Writer-Girl was dragged out of the room by her counterpart.
Dead silence followed.
"Wow," Karen commented into the deceased silence.
"So did you?" Fuuma pressed Arashi.
"HELL IF I KNOW!" Arashi snapped. "I've been stuck in this room for the last six to seven months, no?"
"Touché." Seishirou grinned.
"Wait, wait." Kamui held up his hands for attention. "So, now that we know these things, are we supposed to acknowledge them or something?"
"Dealing with them is always a plus," the Therapist muttered bitterly because no one was paying attention.
Sorata got up off the floor with a big smile on his face. Everyone winced, knowing another not-so-witty comment was surely immanent.
Fuuma, who was now antsy anyway, swiped the chair from under Kamui, holding it high above his head, but surprisingly, Sorata just sat there with a big, fat smile on his face. Arashi was shuddering convulsively. Karen wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and glared at everyone very protectively.
"But I thought she was a lesb-"
BANG!
But that wasn't Fuuma. That was Arashi stealing Fuuma's chair and bringing it down on Seishirou. She returned to her seat calmly, politely refusing Karen's arm again.
Subaru silently attended to Seishirou on the floor. By the time he found out Seishirou was faking it, it was too late; he found his hand in a place he hadn't intended it to be and squeaked uncertainly.
"See?" Seishirou grinned and wiggled. "I'm not that bad."
There was a short fangirly scream from down the hall, followed by a distant, "LEMMEGOIHAVETOSEETHIS!".
The Therapist found this a very good time to exercise what little control she had left. "If you all don't calm down, I'm going to charge you double whatever you've racked up so far."
"Like we care!" Fuuma laughed. "It's not like we're paying OR want to be here."
"Touché." Seishirou repeated, but he wasn't talking to Fuuma. Subaru backed away quickly and sat in his chair with a blush.
"Fine." The Therapist smiled at Fuuma sweetly. "If you don't calm down I'll write out a request to keep you permanently in this fic."
Fuuma blanched then obediently sat down in a spare chair Nataku brought over from the side. The Therapist sighed and flicked through her notes. "Where were we … oh yes. Kusanagi-san."
The soldier sagged. "Damnit, I thought with all the ruckus you forgot about me."
"Not likely. A session like this has to be fair, which means everyone has to suffer. So. Tell us your most vivid dream."
Kusanagi shifted uncomfortably. "Er …"
'Lemme guess', the Therapist wrote wryly, 'little girls.'
"Don't worry!" chirped Yuzuriha, apparently over her man-eating dog thing. "It's okay to tell!"
Kusanagi squirmed even more and turned red. "Uh, I was trapped in a high school locker room."
"Girls or guys locker room?" asked Karen.
"… Girls."
Fuuma leaned forward. "And?"
Kusanagi found the floor very interesting. "And I was naked and there were all these little girls pointing and laughing at me and Miss Yuzuriha was standing right at front pointing at me and commented that I was Very Small."
Everyone burst out into laughter. Kamui laughed so hard he slapped his knee and winced at the sting. Yuzuriha and Nataku were the only ones who didn't laugh.
"I don't get it," said the bioroid.
"What was Very Small?" asked Yuzuriha.
Everyone laughed even harder. Kusanagi turned beet-red.
"Ahem," coughed the Therapist, wiping away tears. "Ahem! Anyway, Kusanagi-sa ..." She gave up and started laughing again. It was only through sheer force of will and the look on Kusanagi's face that she pulled herself together. "Anyway. Kusanagi-san, I would say that you are expressing some feeling of inadequacy in this dream."
"A big inadequacy I'd say," said Seishirou grinning.
"And so, you're trying to overcompensate for it," finished the Therapist.
There was one stifled guffaw from somewhere.
"Is that all for Not-So-Big Guy?" asked Karen grinning.
"I think that'll be enough. We can come back to it." The Therapist scrolled down her list. "What about you, Satsuki?"
The hacker made a face. "I dreamt once BEAST got hit by a computer virus."
There were disappointed sounds from around the room.
"And this virus," continued Satsuki," kept scrolling one thing on the screen."
"What was that?" asked Yuuto curiously.
Satsuki sniffled. "'LOVE & PEACE'. With three exclamation marks and a smiley after it."
Sorata frowned. "What's so bad about that?"
Satsuki's face scrunched up. "My poor BEAST was corrupted!" she wailed. "I had to wipe his memory and give him a reboot!"
"And that's a bad thing … why?" asked Subaru.
Satsuki threw herself on Yuuto and bawled. "You … just don't understand!"
"…………" went everyone
"Maybe we'll leave Yatouji-san for a minute," said the Therapist delicately. 'Shock therapy' she noted down.
"Can I tell mine?" asked Sorata.
"NO," snapped Arashi.
"Aw, c'mon, Miss," Sorata pleaded. "You can't deny it anymore, so why are you still being mean to me? Don't tell me you've already forgotten our one, wild night at the hospital when I was all beaten up and you healed me with your smooth silken th–"
Arashi's hand twitched. Sorata darted off his chair still talking loudly. "Well, my favorite dream would have to be the one where I'm dressed in leather all tied up to the wall and Miss is wielding a whip dressed in more leather–"
Arashi called up her sword in a poof of smoke and began to chase Sorata with it. The Therapist blinked at the sudden appearance of an ancient weapon in her interview room and rubbed her eyes while Sorata kept reciting as he ran around the circle chased by a homicidal sword-fighter.
"–it's really tight leather and you can see every cr–"
The Therapist wondered if everyone present could be any more wacky if she had locked them in a movie theatre and forced them to marathon 'Revolutionary Girl Utena', 'Child's Toy' and 'Excel Saga' in one sitting.
"–bikini leather thong – ow! Watch it!"
The Therapist was starting to resemble a H-bomb. "GET BACK TO YOUR SEATS!" she barked.
Sorata and Arashi froze. They stared. Then they meekly obeyed.
"Now," said the Therapist in exasperation. "I think, Sorata-san, that you have nothing to worry about. Your dream is a typical – if overly vivid – fantasy typical to many young men your age."
Sorata beamed. "See, Miss? There's no problem!"
Arashi stood and raised her sword. Sorata meeped.
"Kishuu-san," said Seiichiro gently, "this is really not the time for this."
Arashi looked up, then realised everyone was staring at her as her wonderful Ice-Queen façade was stripped away permanently. Flaming red she retracted her sword and sat back in her chair. Sorata heaved a sigh of relief. "Man, she's energetic. Got to say, she wears me out but it's so worth it–"
"Let's go to someone else," said Kamui quickly, seeing that Arashi was about to go postal again.
"You volunteering, Kamui-kun?" asked Fuuma with a smirk.
"Uh, no."
The Therapist closed her eyes and dropped her pen point-first onto her list of names imagining it was a guillotine heading for a certain golden-blond head. "Yuuto-san."
"What?" asked the public servant warily. Satsuki had regained control of herself again and was wiping her tear-stained glasses with Yuuto's coat.
"You can go next."
Yuuto flashed a dazzling smile. "But you don't want to hear about me."
"Yes, we do." Karen smirked.
Yuuto glared. Karen gave a sweet smile. He sighed. "Fine. It was a nightmare. I was in bed with Kanoe-san. She turned into a guy."
"What's so bad about that?" asked Kamui.
Yuuto glared. "Unlike you, Mr. Uke Who Has Slash Potential With Every Male Character, I'm straight!"
Kamui turned red. Fuuma and Seishirou snickered.
"And that's not the worst of it!" cried Yuuto, waving his arms around. "The guy was him!"
He pointed at Sorata.
Predictably, Sorata's eyes bugged out. So did Arashi's and Satsuki's, for that matter.
"What?!" demanded Arashi, forgetting that not a minute ago she had been trying to whap Sorata's head off.
"Kanoe and him?!" demanded Satsuki.
"Please don't let this mean I have a subconscious desire to be gay," Yuuto pleaded with the Therapist.
The Therapist coughed. "Just because you have one dream about having sex with a member of the same sex doesn't mean you're inclined that way."
"You mean there's hope for them?" asked Kakyou, pointing at Kamui and Subaru.
"Are you sure??" demanded Yuuto wildly. "I'm in an occult-shoujo manga read by yaoi fangirls galore where every guy is a bishounen, are you sure I'm not queer?"
"Even if you are I can change that," said Satsuki darkly. "Hmm, I wonder if BEAST does brainwashing … shouldn't be too hard …"
"Yes, yes, you don't have to worry at all!" snapped the Therapist, exasperated. Thankfully Yuuto took her word for it. He slumped in his chair, which it must be remembered, was next to Sorata. Sorata moved his chair away from him as far as it would go. "Shiro-kun, let's go to you."
"Why me?"
"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that question I'd have enough to retire on," retorted the Therapist.
Kamui fidgeted in his chair. "My dream? Uh …"
The Therapist (and the rest of the room) leaned closer. "What?"
Kamui avoided everyone's eyes. "Uh, there was a bird in it. It was flying around."
"It was dead," said Kakyou flatly.
Kamui shot the Dreamseer a fearful look. "Well, yeah. There was a bird–"
"Dead," insisted Kakyou.
"–dead bird," Kamui corrected looking depressed, "and Fuuma was eating it."
"Mm, yummy," said Fuuma.
"Yeah. That's it," said Kamui.
The Therapist raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes–"
"No," said Kakyou again. "You forgot the handcuffs and the silk bedsheets."
Silence. Kamui shrank under everyone's gaze. Kakyou leaned back in his wheelchair and looked bored. "You dreamed that it was the Final Day and that you were cuddling Fuuma's Dismembered Head."
"This had better not be a premonition dream," said Fuuma, eyes dangerous.
"Suddenly," continued Kakyou, obviously in his forte, "Fuuma's Dismembered Head started floating and talking to you. Then it started singing 'Forever Love' by X Japan. You sing really badly, by the way," Kakyou added to Fuuma. "Kamui then ran off to find the Sumeragi who said he was waiting for 'Sei-snookums' because they had a honeymoon suite booked and you ran off crying then you woke up."
Seishirou glared around the room with his good eye. "If anyone calls me by that ridiculous name I'll lock you in the Sakura to rot."
"It's rather cute, Seishirou-san," said Subaru with a smile.
"Subaru-kun being the exception of course."
"Where did the handcuffs and silk bedsheets come in?" demanded Fuuma.
Kakyou blinked. "Oh. That was Kamui's other dream. Shall I tell you about that one?"
Kamui was making strangling noises. Subaru cleared his throat. "Kamui, perhaps we should talk about this–"
"Oh?" said Kakyou, one eyebrow raised. For the first time in the entire session he actually looked awake. "You, Sumeragi, had a sakura tree."
Subaru stared, gulped, and shut up. Seishirou looked at Kakyou a gleam in his good eye. "Go on."
"Don't you dare," threatened Subaru.
"What's wrong?" asked Kakyou. "It's just an erotic fantasy where you get tied up by the Sakura Tree and made hot passionate love to by the Sakurazukamori."
"I think I've read that," commented Karen. Somewhere, a dark-haired law student snickered.
Everyone gave Subaru a sideways glance. Subaru buried his head in his hands, muttering, 'keep calm, keep calm, keep calm …'
"Well," began the Therapist, "expression of repressed sexual desires in dreams isn't uncommon –"
"I believe you should know, Subaru-san," said Arashi not listening," Nokoru-san has access to some of the best psychologists in the world if you wish …"
"Isn't that what we're doing here?" said Yuuto sulkily.
"… Oh yeah."
Seishirou was giving Subaru a long, smouldering look. "You know, Subaru-kun, it is summer, spending a night outdoors won't be that uncomfortable–"
"You have a choice of either the Sakura, the shower, the bedroom, the kitchen, the sofa, oh, I think there was one in the library as well." Kakyou Looked at Subaru. "Do you know that some of those things you think up are anatomically impossible?"
"Pass some tips over here!" Sorata stage-whispered to Subaru.
The Therapist was desperate to regain the reins of the session. "Kakyou-san, just how do you know all about Shiro-kun and Sumeragi-san's dreams?"
Kamui and Subaru, the latter especially, were avoiding eye contact with everyone, especially each other.
"Eh?" Kakyou blinked cat-like eyes. "Oh. I watched."
"You watched?" asked Kusanagi, incredulous.
"All of it?" added Karen, one eyebrow raised.
"Of course. I–" Suddenly Kakyou realised what he had just confessed to.
"You, you …" Kamui was spluttering. "You pervert!"
"Well, now we know what the Dreamgazer dreams about," Fuuma snickered.
The Therapist smirked. "Well, 'scopophilia' can be just as gratifying as the real thing for some people. For voyeurs and Peeping Toms it can be their only source of sexual gratification. Meantime," here she gave Kamui and Subaru a Look, "I think you two have Some Issues."
"You think?" muttered Subaru.
Kamui pointed a finger at Subaru. "He's so much more screwed up than me!"
"Wanna bet?" asked Subaru.
Kamui grinned. "I don't need to. If nothing else, you've been angsting for nine years over Sakura-baka there, whereas I've only been angsting for a few months!"
Subaru glared. "Well, at least I was never confused about my sexuality."
Everyone coughed violently. Subaru turned his glare on all of them. "It's true! I've only gone after Seishirou-san. Kamui's the one who's caught in between Kotori and Fuuma!"
Everyone pondered this.
"He has a point," admitted Satsuki.
Suddenly the door opened and the Crazy-Writer-Girl from before stuck her head in. "PLUS Subaru doesn't wilt into a puddle every time his nemesis turns up! HA!"
The door slammed shut. The characters in the room pondered the random author-insert for a minute before deciding that they couldn't do anything about it.
"Uh, what about him? It, whatever," said Yuzuriha, pointing at Nataku.
Nataku blinked at her. "What about me?"
"What do you dream about?" asked the Therapist.
Nataku blinked yet again. "Dream?"
"Yes, what do you see when you close your eyes to go to sleep?" asked Seiichiro, the only one out of all of them with the capabilities of dealing with children.
Nataku thought for a moment. "I … I saw blood."
Most of the people in the circle yawned. "Bo-oring," called out Kamui.
"Quiet," shushed the Therapist.
"I saw blood." Nataku's voice was rising. "I saw fire. And I was dead. Daddy didn't help me."
"Uh, I'd hate to tell you this," said Satsuki, glancing up from her laptop, "but you are dead."
Nataku blinked. "Eh?"
"You died. You're the next Dragon to die in the manga."
"I've got news for you, honey," said Karen. "We're all going to die in it."
"Me being the first, of course," muttered Seishirou.
"Get over it, Seishirou-san."
"Help me?"
Nataku seemed to consider this revelation. "So I'm dead?"
"Yep," said Satsuki. "You went out with a bit of a whimper, though, considering when the Sakurazukamori bit the dust the CLAMP Mailing List was inundated with emails of protestation and grief."
Seishirou smirked. Nataku thought a little more. "So what am I doing here? Is this heaven?"
"I sure hope not," said Satsuki fervently.
"You're in a fanfic, Kazuki," Fuuma explained affectionately. "Anything is possible in fanfiction."
"Which is why I'm still here," said Seishirou.
"I can change that," muttered the Therapist.
"No, you can't." Seishirou smirked. "The writers in charge of this fanfic love me."
"DAMN RIGHT!" two voices yelled from outside the room.
"QUIT WITH THE AUTHOR-INSERTS!!" yelled Kamui.
Without warning Kamui found himself translocated from his chair to Fuuma's lap. He yelped as Dark Kamui smirked down at him and wrapped an arm around his waist. "You're a character!" one voice from outside yelled. "Do not presume to tell us what to do – we control you! OHOHOHO!"
"Someone's been taking Hokuto-laugh lessons," muttered Subaru.
Fuuma started nuzzling down Kamui's neck. "Sadistic fan-authors, thank you."
Kamui's voice-box must have given out because he couldn't do much more than whimper. The Therapist glared for a moment through foggy glasses, then stabbed her much-abused pen into Fuuma's leg. Fuuma yelped and let go of Kamui who scrambled back to his own chair.
"There will be no Funny Business in my session! Now," said the Therapist sweetly. "I do believe that you were next, Fuuma."
"The name's /Kamui/, bitch."
"Whatever. Talk."
"Hmm." Fuuma looked thoughtful. "I don't dream."
Everyone blinked. "You don't?" asked the Therapist in disbelief.
"I can't." Fuuma shrugged. "There are drawbacks to being Kamui's twin-star, you know. I'm not really a person anymore; I'm just an agent of mass destruction with a penchant for ice-cream and S&M with my adversary, a wish-granting genie with a one-dimensional personality, namely, Evil." Fuuma looked at everyone. "Disappointed?"
Everyone thought back to beforehand and the free association game and Fuuma's responses.
"No," said Seiichiro.
"If you want I can tell you what I fantasise about," offered Fuuma.
"Please no," said Kamui quickly.
Fuuma took that as a yes. "Basically I'm having a sword fight with Kamui as the world is crashing down. I disarm him then he starts running. Of course I run after him, grabbing his coat and pulling it off and such. I actually do grab him once and slice his cheek open but he gets away, not that I care cause I just pin him to the ground and kiss him into submission then I strip–"
Everyone groaned, Kamui especially. "Damnit, I hate being uke," he muttered.
"Wait a sec." Arashi's eyes were narrowed. "You stole that off Zetsuai."
"Oh." Fuuma frowned. "Whoops." Suddenly he looked at Arashi. "You read that?"
Arashi turned pink.
"Waaaah~" Sorata wailed. "Miss is a fangirl!"
"Not just that." Kakyou smirked. "A full-blown, stereotypical, teeny-bopper, raving fangirl. Why, last night her dream was full of pink bubbles and fluffy animals and frilly dresses and she was waving a candy-pink wand around being hyperactive and genki."
Arashi was candy-pink right now.
"Oh yeah," added Kakyou. "Can't forget Kamui and /Kamui/ going at it like rabbits doujinshi-style."
"I think–" began the Therapist.
"Hey, show me that one," Fuuma chipped in.
Kamui and Sorata stared at Arashi. "You … you …" stuttered Kamui.
The Therapist tried again. "As I was saying–"
"Wait a sex – er, sec!" Arashi protested. "You can't prove any of this!"
Satsuki pushed her glasses up her nose. "Are you the one who signs off all her emails and mailing list postings with 'Proud Supporter of FuxK, Keeper of Kamui's Chastity Belt' and so on?"
The ignored Therapist was getting Very Ticked Off. "When they start making up weird sign-off signatures, you know the fangirl is beyond redemption," she tried to say to no avail.
"Hmph," Seishirou gave a snobby sniff towards Kamui and Fuuma. "You two have nothing on me and Subaru-kun."
"What do you dream about, Sakurazukamori?" asked Fuuma.
Seishirou scratched his head. "I don't dream very much. One of those side-effects of technically being an emotionless character. But I do remember one with lots of chibi Hokutos waving bread-knives laughing maniacally telling me to make sure I made Subaru-kun an honest bride. Want to hear how I made him one?" He smirked.
"NO," bit out Kamui just as Arashi, Karen, Fuuma and two voices from outside said 'YES'.
"Oh god," groaned Subaru.
"Don't bother trying to salvage your reputation, Sumeragi," said Yuuto. "We all know you're as horny as hell for the assassin. And vice versa of course."
The Therapist buried her head in her hands counting to one hundred slowly as she gritted her teeth and added another two weeks to the dastardly plans she had spent valuable time thinking up for Kaichou. Seishirou leaned back in his chair. "My dream's nothing much, really. Hokuto-chan turned up at my door with a big box tied with a big red ribbon for my birthday and when I opened it there was Subaru-kun inside in a tub of vanilla ice-cream and strawberries on top–"
"Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?" asked Seiichiro.
"–of course it all has to be licked off, by the way, Subaru-kun are you really ticklish there–"
BAM!!
"… Whoa," said Sorata, blinking.
The floored Sakurazukamori stared up at the ceiling with swirly eyes. The Therapist heaved a deep breath and put her chair back where it belonged. Calmly, she sat down and turned her notebook to a new sheet. Immediately Subaru ran over and started attending to Seishirou making soothing noises which quickly turned to irritated ones when Seishirou turned out to be faking it and buried his face in Subaru's lap.
Fearfully, everyone stared at the Therapist. She smiled at them.
"Don't worry about the chair," said the Therapist sweetly. "I'll just add it to Kaichou's bill."
Chapter Three Chapter Five