---------------
Kyuuketsuki Duo
Episode V
Masks
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	"Are you free today after school, Quatre?  I was wondering if 
you could come over and help me with my math homework."

	Quatre snapped his pencil box shut and looked up at the honey 
blond seated in front of him.  She was turned sideways in her seat, 
looking back at him with soft cornflower eyes.  In the aisle, her legs 
were crossed daintily at the ankles, and she leaned lightly on one 
forearm casually placed along the back of her stiff plastic, 
standard-issue school chair.

	"Since when have you ever needed help, Relena?" he asked without 
malice, leaning on his desk with his elbows.  She had always received 
good marks, for as long as Quatre had known her, and they had been 
friends for a few years now.  "You've always done well in math."

	"That's because I always had my brother to help me out," she 
replied.  "Just because you never saw me getting help doesn't mean I 
never got help."

	"Oh?  Why can't you ask him anymore?" Quatre inquired curiously.

	Relena's pleasant expression faded into one of faint concern.  
"Well, I suppose I could...."  She took a contemplative breath before 
continuing.  "It's just that, lately, he seems so ... withdrawn.  Moody.  
Not at all like he normally is."

	"Nothing is wrong, I hope?"

	Relena shook her head slightly, the two small braids she wore in 
her hair barely moving with the motion.  "I don't know.  I hope not.  He 
just snaps at me whenever I ask him about it.  I don't think he's been 
getting enough sleep at night.  Once, I swear I heard him sneaking out 
of the house in the middle of the night.  I didn't check then, I thought 
it was just my imagination, but the next day, I could tell he hadn't 
slept at all."  She laughed quietly, nervously.  "I hope it's just a 
girl he's seeing or something.  I hope he's not in trouble."  Then she 
smiled, a brief smile that faded almost as soon as it was born, and 
never reached her worried eyes.  "So do you think you can help me?"

	Quatre's answering smile did reach his sympathetic aquamarine 
eyes, and some of the spark rekindled in her own.  "Of course.  But the 
truth is...."  He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered to her.  "I 
usually get help from Duo."

	Her eyes widened just a little as they darted involuntarily to 
the quiet boy sitting in the next row, two seats in front of her.  "Duo?  
But--"  She cut herself off abruptly, embarrassed.

	Quatre's face showed only mild amusement.  "You didn't know he 
was good at math?" he finished for her, knowing that wasn't at all what 
she was thinking.

	"He just seems so ... standoffish."

	"Oh, he is, really," Quatre reassured her, only confusing her a 
little more in the end.  "But once you get to know him, he's really a 
very friendly, open person."  Noting the slightly doubtful look on her 
face, he came up with an idea.  "I know.  Why don't I ask Duo if he can 
help us both?"

                              ************

	Relena's house was in the same general neighborhood as Quatre's, 
meaning that her house was just as upscale.  As she led them to the 
sitting room, Quatre stopped for a moment to study an odd mask hanging 
on the wall.  It fit over the front half of the person's head and would 
cover the top half of the bearer's face.  The smooth metallic design 
wasn't fancy, nor was the off-white crest-like fringe falling from the 
rear edge particularly glamorous, yet it conveyed a certain intimidating 
oppression.

	"Oh.  That."  Relena's voice was less than pleased as she took a 
few steps back towards them.  "You know how Father travels about so 
much?"  She turned to Duo briefly to explain.  "He's a diplomat, you 
see.  Father brought that home on his last trip.  I don't like it."

	"It... feels like it's watching me," Quatre said hesitantly, 
rubbing his chest over his heart idly.

	"You too?"  She shuddered delicately.  "I wish they would move 
it somewhere else.  It gives me the heebie-jeebies every time I walk 
past it.  But Milliard insists that we keep it there, for some reason 
beyond me.  Ugh.  Come on."  She gestured with her head and quickly 
walked past the mask, and Quatre tore his eyes away from the strangely 
captivating sight and followed swiftly.  Behind them, Duo studied it 
carefully with a curiously intense gaze, before following them at his 
own leisure.

                              ************

	The night air was crisp and cool, but it didn't faze the 
solitary character standing straight and alert in the shadow of the 
trees.  Wufei had had no trouble slipping out the house tonight, to 
follow a feeling he had had earlier.  He had been reading the newspaper, 
and an article had caught his eye.  Joggers had found a man unconscious 
in the park three days ago, with no external injuries.  Examination had 
shown no discernable medical condition, just an inexplicable lack of 
energy.  Although the man was slowly recovering from the strange 
ailment, Wufei was perforce reminded of his own mother, lying 
irrevocably comatose in a hospital across town, drained of her 
lifeforce.

	And so here he was, stalking the park at midnight, his family's 
sword hidden beneath his trench coat [1], waiting for something to 
happen for the second night in a row.  So far, this night was as quiet 
as the last, but he just couldn't shake the suspicion that something 
supernatural had been involved in the man's lapse into unconsciousness.

	He willed himself into untensing his muscles and closed his 
eyes, forcing himself to relax enough to go into a light trance, as he 
had been taught.  Remembering his lessons reminded him of the day he had 
learnt them, the day he had lost nearly everything, and his eyes snapped 
open abruptly, dispelling the crimson-bathed images burnt into his 
mind's eye.

	Taking a deep breath, he banished his irritation and calmed 
himself again, closing his eyes once more and focusing only on the sound 
of the light breeze rippling through the drying leaves, and the chirping 
of the cricket from somewhere in the bushes to his left.  Finding a 
center of collected calm, he opened himself to hearing the rest of what 
the earth could tell him, and waited.  An undetermined amount of time 
later, he felt something intrude upon the peace of the night.  Keeping 
it fixed in his mind, he opened his dark eyes and took off in wary 
pursuit.

	The disturbance was not far, and his first encounter with it was 
a shadow flickering in the corner of his vision.  He whirled to face it, 
drawing his sword, but it vanished.  He circled in place cautiously, 
seeking any clue of its whereabouts, but the wind stirred the boughs of 
the trees, distracting and fooling his perceptions with a kaleidoscope 
of shadows.  He spun suddenly, and was rewarded with another fleeting 
glimpse of it behind him before it disappeared.  The only impression he 
had really received was a black and white blur, as if it had had a 
shadow for a body and a pale mane that had shone in the moonlight.

	It was still here.  He could sense it, playing with him.  There 
was a prickling down his spine, and this time he turned slowly, his 
sword held low in a defensive position.  It stood in the middle of the 
path, taunting him with an open stance, about forty paces from him.  It 
wore a surprisingly human body, about half a foot taller than he, but it 
was swathed in loose, ragged-edged folds of reddish brown, the color of 
dried blood, that shifted restlessly in a manner inconsistent with the 
wind.  The top half of the figure's face was a smooth metallic mask, the 
eyes left curiously white and empty, and a long fall of pale, straight 
hair tumbled from its ruffed crown and down its back.

	Wufei's eyes narrowed in brief concentration, and his lips 
uplifted in a grim expression of satisfaction when the sword in his hand 
warmed slightly, reacting to the presence of the otherworldly.  In 
response, the demon raised its arm straight above its head, and in its 
hand a maroon swirl of power gathered, and solidified into a wickedly 
barbed spear.  It lowered the dangerous looking weapon, and crouched 
once more, ready to pounce.

	Wufei steeled himself for attack, but it never came.  A sudden 
gathering of shadows materialized before him, interposing itself between 
himself and his opponent and safely out of his reach.  This new demon 
was about the same height as the other, but it wore a robe of deep 
obsidian, its face unnaturally shadowed by its cowl.  It spoke.

	"Go home, human."  The voice was flat, muffled, and cold, and 
unpleasantly tickled the skin at the back of his neck like a sprayed 
mist of icy water.

	They stared at each other in silence for several moments, before 
the tense standoff was broken by the first demon.  It bounded away, off 
the path and further into the park.  Wufei swore under his breath and 
attempted to follow, but he had taken only two steps before he found 
himself in a completely foreign landscape.  It was a lifeless place.  
The land was black and cracked, the trees dead and skeletal, the sky 
bleeding scarlet.

	He turned angrily to confront the remaining spirit.  It wasn't 
there.

	"You would be well advised not to dabble in things beyond your 
power and understanding," a voice suggested casually, different from 
before.  It seemed to assault him from all sides at once, both warm and 
cold, deep and deeper.

	"Who are you?!" he demanded.  "Show yourself, coward."

	Light masculine laughter filled the air, and his eyes darted 
from corner to corner as he tried in vain to find the source of the 
sound.  "Coward?"

	"You, who will not stand to fight me face to face.  Nor your 
companion, who fled."

	"Companion?"  Another dark chuckle.  "I wasn't working with him.  
I am not here to fight you.  I was protecting you from your own 
foolishness."  The landscape shifted with a blur again, and he was back 
in the park.  "Go home, human," the mysterious voice repeated.  "Stay 
out of these affairs."  With no more farewell than that, the presence 
disappeared from Wufei's senses.

                              ************

	Milliard stumbled in the front door of his rich home as quietly 
as he could, doing his best not to alert his sister to his late night 
excursion, despite his disorientation.  He had no clear idea of what he 
was doing at this time of night, why he had been outside.  He absently 
put the mask he hadn't even known he was carrying carefully back in its 
place, his fingers caressing its surface lightly before he tripped his 
way up the stairs and collapsed into his bed, still, oddly enough, 
wearing the sweat pants he had put on when he had first went to bed.  
But when had he gone out?

	A soothing voice whispered to him that it wasn't important, 
murmured exhaustion and comforting confusion to him before he fell into 
a fitful sleep.

	He dreamed.  He dreamt he was a hunter, proudly holding a spear 
dripping red with the blood of his kills.  He lived the joyous sensation 
of his fierce weapon tearing through the flesh of his enemies.  He heard 
the triumphant song of adrenaline rushing through his veins.  He inhaled 
the rich metallic scent of life.  He dreamt, and through it all, he wore 
the mask, and it was the source of his power, the only source of 
fulfilment of all his hopes and dreams and successes, and when he woke 
unrested in the morning, he knew that that night, he would hunt again, 
and he spent the entire day restlessly, shamefully, craving and waiting 
for that feeling of power once more.

                              ************

	Night fell, once more finding the veil's guardian, that 
guardian's guardian, a broken ward's guardian, and a mask's current 
guardian in the park under the cover of darkness.  Funny how that works.  
Anyway.

	Wufei, not one to heed the sneering threats of cowardly enemies, 
stood quietly in the shade, watching the odd confrontation before him 
with keen eyes.  Perhaps all was not well in hell, for he observed the 
two figures from the previous night facing each other, prepared to do 
battle.  Could the mysterious voice have spoken true, when it claimed to 
be protecting him?  He shook his head to himself.  No, the enemy of his 
enemy was not always his friend.

	He studied the opponents silently as they made a few passes at 
each other.  Who would win?  Was this one of the dominance struggles 
among the demonkind that he had studied in his family's ancient texts?  
Or would there even be a winner?  Were they on the same side?

	The figure in brown fled once more, and the cowled shadow took 
off in swift pursuit, much more quickly than Wufei would have been able 
to follow.  His eyes narrowed in irritation, but he did not attempt 
pursuit.  He would have been happier had they continued to fight here, 
where one would vanquish the other, and leave him only the one weakened 
to deal with, but perhaps the mysterious voice was right in at least one 
respect: these things were as yet beyond his understanding.  But by all 
that he held holy, Wufei swore to himself that he *would* understand, 
and then he would indeed interfere in their affairs.

	Not too far from him, sharp eyes watched him for a moment, the 
associated small, grim smile of satisfaction unseen.  Then, the shadow 
with the long braid detached itself from the other shadows around him, 
and with a blur of motion, he followed the two retreating hunters.

                              ************

~~ two days later ~~

	Relena took her seat at her desk, smoothing the navy blue of her 
skirt as she sat.

	"Hey, Relena," Quatre greeted her from behind.  She settled her 
book bag down and turned in her seat.  "We missed you yesterday."

	"I took the day off, yesterday.  I ..."

	Quatre looked at her with concerned eyes.  "What's wrong, 
Relena?" he asked gently.

	"Nothing."  She shook her head.  "Actually, things are going 
right, now.  Well, maybe."

	"What do you mean?"

	"Two nights ago... it was weird.  There was this great crash in 
the middle of the night, and I ran downstairs, and there was Milliard, 
zoned out in the middle of the floor, with the pieces of that horrid 
mask scattered on the floor in front of him.  So I stayed home yesterday 
and watched over him."

	"Oh my.  I hope he's all right."

	"Yes, he slept for a good part of the day, and when he woke, he 
was a little disoriented, but he seemed much better.  He couldn't tell 
me what on earth had happened to break the mask like that, but that's 
fine.  The good news is that he seems back to his old self again.  
Enough so, at least, for him to complain about having to sleep on the 
sofa.  As if he could expect me to drag him all the way up the stairs to 
his own bed!"

	"That's great!"  Quatre's eyes sparkled mischievously.  "Now I 
don't have to help you on the math homework anymore!"

	She smacked him on his arm and turned back around to unpack her 
work for the class period.



-------
[1] he suffers from highlander syndrome, okay?  it grants him the 
ability to hide a large sword under a trench coat, regardless of the 
physical impossibilities.  it's not like he could just walk around with 
it strapped to his back.

wufei swears a lot, doesn't he?

why does everyone need help with their math homework all the time?  
*shrug*  kids these days.  but it sure is a convenient vehicle for 
getting them over to each other's houses.

i know this one isn't particularly original, since the mask thing 
happened in the miyu tv series, but it was just one of those things that 
immediately struck me when i was drawing up the parallels between miyu 
and duo, and this is technically a fusion series after all...

for the missing details of the fight, one must consult the companion 
flipside tale.  not only is it a cheap way for me to get you to read 
more of my stuff, it's also 'correct' for me to put it there, since 
these 'original' fics are for the outsider's views, and the flipsides 
are for the more duo and heero view, and there weren't nobody outside 
there during the fight.

_________________________________________
This piece of fiction is the intellectual 
property of the little turnip that could.  
The basis for this fic, i.e. Gundam Wing, 
Kyuuketsuki Miyu, et al., is the property 
of someone else.  The author can be con-
tacted at jchew@myrealbox.com.  This has 
been an entirely automated message.
http://www.cs.hmc.edu/~jchew/misc/gw.html

last modified : 9/27/2001 20:28:38 PST