Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Immortality ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: This fanwork borrowed characters and situations from Yami no Matsuei, which is the creation of Matsushita Yoko. No copyright infringement or disrespect are intended, at least not to the lovely Matsushita-sensei. However, outright disrespect is aimed at the people for whom "Marriage Protection Week" is a wonderful idea, with all its accompanying homophobia and conservatism.

Comments: I would dedicate this fic to my girlfriend, but she hasn't watched/read YnM. So I'll dedicate this to Loki's Rose, Tatari 'shipper extraordinaire. This was written during Marriage Protection Week, upon thinking about certain arguments against same-sex marriage and prejudices thereof.

Rating: G

Feedback: Yes, please.

Nobody noticed when Watari started wearing a band of gold around the ring finger of his left hand. Most denizens of Meifu stopped looking for changes after a few decades. Even the occasional apocalyptic chaos and destruction emanating from the Shokan Division became, in the end, just another bad habit.

You live with things the best you can -- it's the unspoken rule in the Land of the Dead, even if "live" was an ironically inappropriate word to use.

Nobody, however, could fail to notice that Tatsumi wore a matching ring. Especially when he insisted on placing his hand on top of Watari's, their fingers twining together, when and where everyone could see.

JuOhCho held its breath.

Eventually Konoe-kacho asked if Tatsumi had a few minutes to spare for a "brief chat" in his office. Once the door closed, Tatsumi waited patiently as Konoe shuffled reports on his desk and coughed and made uncomfortable small talk.

"Tatsumi... you know the rules on this," Konoe finally said, not quite looking at the division secretary in the eye.

"I have memorised the rules of conduct for JuOhCho employees. Nothing about it has ever been written down in the employees' manual or in any of EnmaDaiOh-sama's edicts."

"It's only natural that we understand these things without writing them down. We all know what marriage is." Konoe shifted in his seat and coughed again. "I respect you, Tatsumi. I'm speaking frankly to you, man to man: this won't last your lifespan."

Tatsumi's face remained expressionless. "Nevertheless, it was our decision to make that mistake."

"I'll, ah, overlook it. You've been one of our best employees."

"Thank you."

When Tatsumi strode out of Konoe's office, his shadow crackled like a live wire. Everyone carefully avoided both Tatsumi and shadow for the rest of the day, and nobody said anything within Tatsumi's earshot.

It was different for Watari, though. Tsuzuki offered his best wishes with a cake -- most of which ended up in Tsuzuki's stomach. Hisoka was more reserved, trying not to look as if Tsuzuki had puppy-eyed him into doing something this mushy.

Both of them congratulated Watari on his "relationship" with Tatsumi.

"Not that you needed to get married to show you'll be together forever," Tsuzuki added with a bubbly smile.

Hisoka made his Tsuzuki-you-idiot noise, which would be a grunt had his voice been an octave lower. "Forever is a long time."

Watari nodded and gave them a winsome smile. "Would you like to try my latest potion?"

The two Shinigami fled and Watari returned to his most recent invention, an automated tofu fryer. Two explosions later, he Googled tofu+Italian+recipes and found a tofu vegetarian lasagna recipe for Tatsumi to make for dinner. Watari left the remnants of Tsuzuki's cake for 003.

"Why did you and Tatsumi have to get married, anyway?" Terazuma asked when they met at the water cooler the next day. He looked more irritable than usual, and Watari vaguely recalled that Terazuma had just closed a case on a suicide pact. "So you love each other. Isn't that enough? Why do you need to parade it?"

"Why does it matter to you that we want to?" Watari snapped back. It wasn't the most eloquent of replies, but Terazuma shut up long enough for Watari to make it to the door without spilling his cup of water.

In a perfect world, that would be the end of it -- but Meifu was unchanging, not perfect. Watari was doodling on the margins of his grant application outside the EnmaCho building when he heard Wakaba's distinctive trill, bouncing off Terazuma's growls.

"Marriage is for the living, not the dead," Terazuma said in a tone that was probably meant to be a mutter. "Jeez! Do they really think they can last the whole hog? With the Shinigami lifestyle and all?"

"Shinigami lifestyle? Hajime-chan, have you been reading my magazines again? Anyway, the Chinese have spiritual marriages..."

"Yeah, well, that's not how we do things around here."

Wakaba sighed. "It's too bad Tatsumi and Watari can't have children. Have a real marriage and family."

"Kids? Come on, Watari's a Shinigami. Tatsumi was a Shinigami. Who knows what sort of curses or something they picked up from demons in the past..."

"Like Kuro-chan?"

"That's not what I meant!"

The voices floated away, leaving Watari alone to brush off the ever-present sakura blossoms from his abandoned sketches. More petals settled on his labcoat and his hair, and Watari soon gave up his futile attempt to pick them off.

A light tug on his ponytail made him look up.

Tatsumi loomed over Watari, holding a twig between his fingers. He carefully unwound a strand of Watari's hair caught in it, before tossing the twig aside and sitting down beside Watari. The set of his shoulders was stiffer than usual, and a storm raged silently in his eyes as he placed two folded letters on Watari's lap.

The first one was a formal letter from Tatsumi, requesting that Watari be legally recognised as his spouse. The second was a terse and equally formal letter from EnmaDaiOh's office, refusing Tatsumi's request. It was dated only a day after the official receipt stamped on Tatsumi's letter.

Watari's nails dug into the thick paper. He was still staring at the glaring finality of EnmaDaiOh-sama's seal when Tatsumi's arms curled around him, the letters crumpling as they leaned against each other. Watari's hair slid between Tatsumi's lips and they breathed together, the grip of Tatsumi's hand tight enough to leave bruises had it been holding flesh instead of clothing.

The words "it doesn't matter" hung in the air like a waiting shroud, but they both knew saying it would be a lie of the worst kind. It mattered. They mattered.

When the next bloody crisis inevitably touched the Shinigami, Tatsumi and Watari watched each other with disquieted eyes. They covered vulnerable skin with hands and magic, and tried to remember how to survive dying.

-owari-