Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ The First Death ❯ Chapter 2: The Second Death ( Chapter 2 )

The Second Death

|Hisoka|

/I don't want to be tested anymore./

The gun nearly slips out of my grasp when he tells me of our connection. It's only a second of hesitation, but I recover, gripping it tighter. Feeling the weight of the gun in my hands strengthens me. If only it could do the same for my resolve.

/I don't want to be tested./

At my feet, the lines of the two spells glow crimson and violet, swirling around the edge of my perception like dry autumn leaves in the wind. Where they meet, they lock along a thousand different points. Muraki's visible eye is unreadable. It's a bad, bad sign. It's really weird not seeing the brittle amusement that usually hides the darkness that lurks behind the man's eyes. If he's not amused, at least he should be angry, at being caught in this trap. But there's nothing; he's unfathomable.

And I'm not going to reach out with my senses to make sure.

/I don't want to be…/

Why the admissions? Why the candor? Was it just to unbalance me, or was there some deeper purpose? Was it a confession? But why seek absolution…from me…?

/I don't…/

There's no way out of this mess. The unbreakable walls of the conflicting spells that bind us together are making certain that neither of us can escape, so I knew only one of us can leave here alive. Even without the spells, the fact remains that if I spare him, he's bound to kill more people in the future. Or worse. No, don't think about worse. Just…

/I don't want this./

Just aim. Point the muzzle of the gun, search toward his heart. There.

/I just want to go home./

The trigger. Pull it. Do it for yourself. For Tsuzuki. For everyone he's hurt. Just…

/I just want…/

Such a terrible thing, murder.

I told you.

The lines of the curse marked the beginning and the ending of the world.

*******

|Muraki|

Lately, I've been wondering about Oriya. It's a terrible cliché, but the man looks to require a hug.

Not from me, mind you. He would hardly stand for that. Impropriety, you know.

But a hug. It seems that he could really use one.

From a distance, the careless fall of dark hair against pale skin, his expression unguarded - a moment's peace. Yet I can tell there's something a bit off in his stance, the way his hands unconsciously trail through the chill air, as if grasping for some intangible thing, his lips poised on the brink of speech. The movement breaks his usual stillness, as a falling leaf disturbs water.

He sighs, his eyes close. It's a wisp of fog in the winter air, his breath.

This, you know, was never the way anyone planned it to be. No one could have expected it; their first vacation in twenty years, a plane crash, no survivors…his parents gone in the blink of an eye. And the new master of Kokakurou, freshly dragged from university into his new role as the head of the family that now encompassed one solitary member.

I suppose that's what drew us closer, even though we had already been friends.

I had offered; he hadn't refused. He never would have asked, but it seemed right at the time, to accompany him to the funerals, following like a silent white shadow through the Buddhist rites. It's surprisingly suitable, you know. White, after all, is the color of death.

As winter is the season of death.

There were no bodies to be recovered. Nothing but scraps of twisted black metal, burned into the mountainside, total immolation. Nothing remaining but keepsakes to fill the empty coffins. Empty coffins to fill open graves. Open graves like dark wounds against the snow-dusted ground.

And now, snow blossoms through the air, tangling among the fine strands of his long hair that are being pulled and twisted by a wind that picks up steadily, the onset of a storm.

His eyes don't open. It grows colder, but he doesn't move, a blot of darkness against the veil of falling snow. His face is expressionless. No sadness. No grief. Just…nothing.

"Oriya," I say. "Oriya, please. You should come inside."

His eyes open at the sound of my voice, and he stares at the blackness, at the black haori and hakama, the clothes of mourning, the loose sleeves sliding against his pale skin. It's a stark contrast.

"Please." I make my way along the stone path of the garden. The pond is frozen solid, the bamboo fount suspended in a singular moment that lasts until spring. The sky is an iron gray that grows darker by the moment, mid-day turned twilight. "Come inside. It's starting to snow again. You'll catch cold." And I reach out to him, solicitously guiding him inside.

Numbly, he follows me in. There's nothing more to say.

We sit with the sliding door open, watching the snowflakes fill the air. He sits with his back to the doorframe, the black silk of his mourning garments pooling around him like a second shadow. I am across from him, facing the falling snow.

"Do. Do you think. That they suffered." His words come haltingly, voice strained.

"No. I don't think that's the case, Oriya." I pause. He says nothing. "You were always better at physics. It would have been instantaneous."

"Yes." His hand tightly grips the frame, dark wood beneath white-knuckled fingers. "You're right."

"There was nothing anyone could have done."

"I know." His eyes never leave the falling snow. Mine do not leave him.

"Shall I make you some tea?" I offer.

"Thank you." He doesn't refuse.

*******

|Hisoka|

When I woke up, it felt like half the department was in the infirmary. Concern radiated all around me, filling the room with warmth. And of course, Tsuzuki was there. He was still holding my hand. It made me smile.

He handed me a glass of water, which I drank gratefully. Watari checked my vitals, and declared that I was fit for service. At that, Tatsumi looked like he was ready to give me the lecture of a lifetime. Thankfully Watari dragged him off before he could start.

The fact that I could get up and answer in a fairly coherent manner meant that it was a lie. My head felt fuzzy, my entire body ached to the bone, and even after a full glass of water I felt ridiculously dehydrated. But I was as alive as could be and as sane as ever.

Hey, but who's to complain? I should have guessed. Not like Muraki was worth much along the lines of truth. Maybe he was right, maybe it could have made me into some sort of gibbering vegetable, but it didn't and really, who cared? Especially now that he was dead.

Dead. It had such a nice ring to it. Muraki, dead. Dead, Muraki.

I practiced saying it aloud a few times to myself in the infirmary mirror just to make sure.

Then again, I probably shouldn't go too far ahead of myself. The man cheated death as often and as easily as a card counter at the blackjack table.

Oh, but the curse marks. Always the marks. Better check.

I rolled up my sleeves. Long shirts, always, to cover the trailing red lines. Or a jacket. But now…now…

Nothing. They were gone. I blinked.

Heedless of Tsuzuki's presence (fortunately the rest had wandered off to work once they were sure of my recovery), I started pulling my clothes off. I could feel the hotness of his embarrassment against my back, but I ignored it. After all, it wasn't as though I was going to take my pants off too. The marks were mainly on my torso.

There. In the mirror. No more lines. I turned around, to see my back. No more marks. Just skin. A little pale. A little bony here and there (I would always be thin, there was nothing more I could do about it, being dead). But here it was.

Wow.

My knees went wobbly and weird, and I almost hit the ground, had not Tsuzuki caught me. He can move faster than anyone I know. His arms caught me, and turned me toward him, his violet gaze catching mine, as if trying to discern what had happened.

"Are you all right?" He said it, over and over again. The words floated around aimlessly through the air, little feathers of worry. Even though I knew they were directed at me, they just didn't seem to be real.

Of course, I was all right, baka. I laughed. At first just a little. Then it became a chuckle that wouldn't stop. And then I cried. It was too much. Tsuzuki pulled me into an embrace, as if he could stem the flow of my emotions with the strength of his arms. The buttons of his shirt scraped against my bare skin.

I buried my face against his shoulder. He smelled a little bit like tea and muffins and whatever made him Tsuzuki. The warmth of his concern washed over me, and after a while, standing there in his arms, I couldn't tell where his feelings began and mine started. But that was fine. Because the curse marks were gone, which meant that Muraki was gone, and I was free.

Hey, what do you do when you're free?

*******

|Muraki|

Your eyes were the first things I noticed about you.

They weren't of any unique coloring, or of any particularly interesting shade. They were just dark, so dark that I could only see the pupils in bright sunlight. But they held such a particular focus and clarity that I had never seen before or since.

You had such poise in that classroom the first time I saw you. Your black hair pooled along your shoulder as you stood to ask your question. I had half-turned to see who spoke, and our eyes met for a brief second before you continued querying the lecturer.

You never showed a moment's hesitation or fluster. That is, until I asked you out to dinner.

Of course, you had a boyfriend.

After that, it seemed that my life's regimented time paused and suddenly began to move too fast. Days became a blur of work, study, classes, and you.

Friends only, of course. He wouldn't have liked being trumped, would he, Ukyo?

Takazano-san was jealous, of course. Not that you didn't do all that you could to dissuade him of my intentions and to assure him of his place in your heart. I rarely saw him, only knew that he was there, somewhere in the background, a childhood friend that you had grown up with and loved with ever fiber of your being. You understood his quirks, his weaknesses, his flaws, and loved him anyway. Because it couldn't have been any way else, could it?

Your capacity for love was always a puzzle to me.

You and he had completely different lives, a situation that caused the two of you to slowly drift apart as time passed. Which is how I got something that he could never have, our times studying together, working together. Late nights before exams, afternoons in the library, a joke over a cadaver. Not to mention our shared interests in medical research.

I suppose by the end of it, it had made him insanely jealous. He didn't like sharing.

Red ribbons in your hair on Fridays. Lavender or a pale peach the rest of the week. Simple trousers in the classroom, long skirts in the real world. You were overly sensitive to some things, absolutely clueless about others, but always understood completely when it mattered. It made you endearing.

Takazano-san was rich too, of that indolent prosperity that knows no need to work or study. It amused him that you were so serious about your studies, when you could easily be a rich man's wife and never worry further than the color of your dress or the curl of your hair. I never liked him.

You constantly wore gloves, and were careful about who you touched when they weren't on. One time, our hands met over a pot of tea. It had been raining, and you had taken them off because they were soaked through. We both froze. Your fingers were chastely cold. At that moment, you looked at me curiously, as though you could see straight through me, before we both realized where our hands were and pulled them away.

And you knew about Saki. You were really the only other person who knew.

Certainly, Oriya enjoyed harassing me about you in his roundabout way. Insinuations that I should elope with you, steal you off to some tropic isle, or at least the Americas, and hide you from your rich boyfriend and his family. We'd practice medicine in the jungles of the New World, cure ailing natives in the depths of the rainforest, climb the Mayan pyramids, and eat mangos plucked straight from the trees. And please, mail him a box of avocados, because he'd always wanted to try one.

Oriya reads too much.

That night, after we had graduated, after finally passing an excruciating series of examinations, we were both exhausted and a little tipsy from the celebrations. You smiled at me and said that I was beautiful in the light of the moon. I laughed, and told you that I had always felt your delicate beauty outshone anything and everyone that I had ever known.

I don't know where everyone else was. I suppose that I didn't care. But somewhere between the laughter and the champagne and the faint glitter of stars just beyond the city lights, I realized that this was the only chance that I could ever have with you before we both went our separate ways, and so unthinkingly I leaned forward. To this day if I stop to think about it, I can still hear the distant murmur of traffic and the rasp of the wind against the summer leaves of the trees.

Our lips met. The wind flicked by, tugging at your red hair ribbons, loosening them, your black hair flowing past your ear. A moment of surprise. You pulled away, startled, and coming to my senses, I was torn between regret and desire.

So I apologized. Stood up to leave. But then, you followed, and kissed me again.

Two kisses, and a promise. I would hold it for a lifetime and more, just to be with you.

Two kisses, a promise. Yet we never thought to look behind us.

*******

|Hisoka|

I leave the infirmary, tousled, with my shirt half-hanging off of me, eyes a little red, and Tsuzuki follows me out with a satisfied grin on his face, happier than he'd been in months.

Really should have buttoned up that shirt properly. Oh well.

Somewhere between the shrieks of disbelief, the twisty embarrassment and crackles of surprise, is Tatsumi. I can feel his annoyance; it's a wonder that work ever gets done around here with these people. Oh wait, that's him, not me. Guess I'm still a little bit off balance.

He asks me to come with him to his office, *without* Tsuzuki, thank you, I need to speak to Kurosaki-kun alone, and gives me that look. You know, the disapproving one where you feel like you're going to melt or shrivel into a little pile of guilty goo on the ground.

"Shouldn't you straighten up your shirt?"

Eek. His disapproval takes the temperature down a few notches. Okay, so a quick rebuttoning, and some tucking in. That seems to satisfy him, for now.

And here we go, into the dragon's lair. I can feel waves of sympathy roll off and bounce around the hall corridor, before hesitating at the door of Tatsumi's office and retreating, as if the office itself was somehow able to deflect emotions. Or maybe the emotions were just too afraid of it.

Well, that's always a good sign.

I take my seat across from him and watch as he settles down amidst his stacks of papers. Bills, reimbursements, ledgers, reconcilements…it was an orderly jungle of bureaucratic madness all tied up with red tape and requiring multiple signatures. I realize that I never quite knew exactly how much work Tatsumi did. No wonder he rarely ever left the Meifu.

"So. Kurosaki-kun. I trust you are feeling better?" Tatsumi asks solicitously.

"Better than I ever," I reply.

"That's good to hear," he says with a sigh of relief. "For a while, we were all worried that you might not make it. You're lucky that Tsuzuki-san tailed you the entire time and was able to bring you back."

"Yeah. I have to thank him later." For a few seconds, there's a silence that threatens toward awkwardness.

I could feel his thoughts shift like the turning of gears, a palpable change in the air. Otherwise, his emotions are still. I itch to reach out and probe into the details (not that he would have noticed, no one usually does) but I squash the impulse. No need to be rude, poking around other people's feelings.

"So." Tatsumi shifts in his chair. "I…well, let's start from here…you know what our roles are as Shinigami, correct?"

"'To investigate unexplained deaths and help souls move on properly.'" I recite.

"Yes. It's good to know that you know the policy," Tatsumi says, with a touch of sarcasm. His voice grows serious again. "But that means, Kurosaki-kun, that we are not to be the cause of unexplained deaths and souls not moving on properly." The corner of his mouth creases. Tension, I guess. A twinge of anxiety dances through my stomach.

"I…well, you see…the spell…" The words come tumbling out without enough comprehension.

Tatsumi holds up his hand. "I understand the basics of the situation. Tsuzuki debriefed us yesterday evening after he brought you in. I'm not here to scold you. At this stage, it's damage control."

I nod, witless. He continues.

"Here's what we're going to have to do. First things first, I'm going to need a written report detailing everything that happened, from how the whole affair got started to how it ended."

That's not too bad.

"Then, we'll go over it with Tsuzuki's report, and make any necessary adjustments."

That's not too bad either…just a lot of writing. And probably prodding. Tsuzuki's a great investigator, but he's terrible at following up on stuff like this.

"I'll help you draft a letter of exception. I know that you know it's the standard policy on collateral assignment deaths, but this one has to include a few other provisions since it wasn't a matter of you helping along a process that already started. We'll of course need this signed off by the Chief, which should be no problem. But we'll also need to get corresponding letters of approval and all the correlating documents from the keeper of the death registry and the Hakushaku. I can handle that end."

Wow. I never thought he'd be so helpful.

"However, the part that really matters is that we'll need to submit all of this for final approval by Enma."

Okay, that could be a problem.

"How likely is that? The approval, I mean." My voice feels really small for some reason.

"Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi pauses. I can almost hear the thoughts rolling around his head. "You killed a man before his time was up. I can't say that it's never happened before, but in my time we've never really had a case like yours."

"What do you mean?"

"In the past, there have of course been Shinigami that kill before a person's time is up. There've been a few cases in my time…" His voice fades out, as memory sets in.

"What happened to the others?"

"Forced retirement sometimes." He quickly snaps back to attention. "Some are still in the Meifu. Others…it depends…sometimes they're sent on, because they've accomplished what tied them to the world of the living. Then, there's also the possibility of punishment. But that's never happened in my experience."

"Oh."

"But in your case…it's hard to say. It turns out that there are serious factions…parties that for whatever the case may be have a vested interest in that man's life. But there are extenuating circumstances…circumstances that may sway Enma in your favor." Tatsumi pulls off his glasses, and rubs at his closed eyes. He looks tired.

I don't have anything to say.

"I…guess I better get started."

"All right. If you have any questions, feel free to come by my office." Tatsumi says, almost mechanically. His eyes close again, and he breathes out a deep sigh. I take that as my cue to leave.

Who knew that the man would be so much trouble even in death?

*******

|Muraki|

Budding flowers, spring leaves, the new green bursting forth in a riot of color, chasing away the gray. It's spring but it's really just a trick, you see, a fanciful magician's act to splash the world in such intense color that it's hardly bearable. Inside of me, it's still winter.

It always returns to winter.

The summer my parents died had been laced with oppressive heat. We stayed out in a rural area during those long sun-drenched days, where dragonflies danced among the rice paddies and the call of the cicadas droned from the trees. I like to think that it's because Father wanted us to have something akin to an unspoiled childhood, away from the temptations of the city.

I recall clutching their memorial tablets close, their physical weight a parallel of the strange weight on my heart. The red banner fluttered in the breeze, announcing their demise - just as your hair ribbons dance whenever the wind decides to twirl them around on its fingers. But now they're the same, both solitary, without will to guide them through the wind and hold them steady.

I suppose in some ways, it would have been easier to live if you had died. I can deal with that. It's something that I'm accustomed to. The pain never really goes away, but it becomes manageable. But you're not dead, and that's enough hope to keep this madman waiting forever for you.

Please, Ukyo, it was never your fault. Please come out.

Don't leave me here. Not by myself.

Winter in Tokyo is always such a dreary thing. But you, you made it brilliant.

In the snow, your footsteps left little trails of darkness behind them. You loved the cold; it brought a sweet blush to your cheeks and left plumes of your breath lingering in the air. I didn't care one way or the other - I had always preferred the fleeting transitions between seasons where it is not quite one thing or another.

Still, you by my side made me forget that such a thing as seasons and weather made sense or mattered. It all seemed like the internal mechanism of a dream and I was floating aimlessly through the routines of my life as if I was not wholly attached to it, but completely attached to you.

Takazano-san had not taken it well. I suppose he had meant to marry you himself, had he ever mustered up the courage to ask. Beating him to the mark must have snapped something within him. It had unleashed a being from within him that he himself was probably unaware of. There had been raging arguments, threats…idle ones, you said, because you thought you knew his heart. Even so, at that time I made another promise, that I would always protect you.

Funny thing, ne? How you drew more important promises out of me than I have ever made in my life.

I really wish that I could have protected you. But how do you protect someone from themselves?

First, the knife. It came at me from behind and I was unprepared, turning just in time to catch its point along my face as I tripped over the low table in my apartment. Nearly took out my right eye as it came down. Sliced a few millimeters beneath the eye itself, tearing a gouging wound along the lower lid of my right eye, deflecting against bone. I suppose I was lucky; he had been aiming for my heart.

Somehow on my way down I managed to knock the knife away. Of course, that's why he carried the gun too, Takazano-san. The man for all his faults managed never to do things by halves.

Blood ran down my face, a downpour of crimson that was a seeming mockery of tears. It was a window of opportunity, a day in which you didn't normally visit, when he knew that I would be alone. I suppose he had paid dearly for the information, and whoever let him in my home must have been a few thousand yen richer.

I almost laughed at the utter ridiculousness of it. Your Takazano-san, the eternal pacifist, usually such a mousy beast, here with gun and knife, ready to kill, his breath harsh with anger and adrenaline.

I think I might have smiled then. Certainly, it did nothing for my cause.

That's when he shot me. Thank goodness he wasn't very good at it. The bullet managed to miss everything vital; organs, bones, major arteries…still, having a hole that went clear through one's shoulder is never a good thing. I was running out of hands to hold in the blood.

Quickly, I was becoming dizzy, and somewhere underneath the searing pain, my fingers felt like ice against the hot gush of my own blood. Oh, that was not a good thing.

The rest, I don't remember well. He was shouting at me, and to this day, I can't recall exactly what he was saying. I recall it had something to do about you, and how he couldn't live without you, and that he was going to make me pay for stealing you from him. It just wasn't a priority at the time.

Then you walked in. I think that was the moment when he decided he'd kill us both and himself along with.

Odd way of expressing love, but I suppose it works on a certain level.

*******

|Hisoka|

"Hey." I wave weakly. It's now past noon, and I just spent the last few hours getting caught up with my paperwork and mentally agonizing over my report. I think I'll start on a draft after some food.

"Hisoka! Want to go have lunch?" Tsuzuki's smile brightens the office better than any amount of sunlight could. I bet you could raise a plant on its radiance. "There's this great place I found in Chijou that's got…"

"Sorry Tsuzuki, but I'm not supposed to leave Meifu until they get this cleared up."

"Oh." He looks disappointed.

"I've got a better idea. Why don't I take you out to lunch?" I offer. "Let's go to the ramen place down the street that you like. We can get gyoza."

Immediately, his smile returns. Sometimes, I think that I could bask in its light forever.

"Let's go!" He accepts, quite happily. Together, we walk out of the office. It's a beautiful day outside. It's always spring in Meifu.

He gets the mabo, I get the shoyu. We split the gyoza. Tsuzuki's quite merrily chasing around bits of tofu with his chopsticks, and I'm mowing through noodles like I haven't eaten in three days. Well, now that I think about it that does sound about right. Oopsie.

A bit later, I'm pretty much done. I'm half-heartedly trailing my chopsticks along the bottom of my bowl, chasing for lost bits of noodles and bamboo shoots, when Tsuzuki's voice stirs me from my thoughts.

"Hisoka?"

"Yeah?"

"I was just wondering. Why'd you do that? Kill Muraki." He's tinged with curiosity. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He's so very careful about my feelings. It almost makes me want to smile.

"I." I look down into my bowl. Concentric circles of sliced scallions float aimlessly in the clear broth. Hmm, it's kind of weird how this flusters me to say it. "I…that is…"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Tsuzuki smiles gently, reassuring me.

"No, it's okay. But thank you." I blurt out. "I haven't thanked you yet for saving me. I don't think there's enough ramen and gyoza in the world to thank you with. For everything that you've done. I'm sorry I'm so much trouble." I almost wince at the words, come tumbling out of my mouth without any hint of discretion or rationality. Tsuzuki's ability to unbalance me and toss out my ability to conduct myself in anything resembling a reasonable manner is either some sort of blessing, curse, or maybe both.

"Trouble? You're no trouble." Again with that smile. He reaches out, and touches my hand lightly. I have to remind myself that this is only a friendly gesture, nothing more. "You're my partner, we have to watch out for each other."

I nod, unable to speak. Even the bare trace of his fingers on my hand is heat and light melded together into flesh. Momentarily, I'm overwhelmed.

"Now," Tsuzuki changes the tone to something lighter, with a whimsical grin. It's a relief. "To celebrate your safe return, let's take a long lunch and go get some cookies."

Fortunately, no one in our division minds if you come in late from lunch once in a while. It's sort of a side-benefit, as long as you're not too excessive about it. Most people work through lunch anyway when they're in-office, so an occasional long lunch doesn't hurt. Even Tatsumi doesn't pay much attention to it.

So we're sitting underneath one of the big sakura trees in front of the general administration building, having an impromptu dessert picnic on the grass. Cans of milk tea and cookies. It's so very Tsuzuki in style that for a second, I'm almost, almost tempted to hug him. He's such an amazingly sweet person sometimes. At least, when he's not making me crazy.

It's a pretty still day, not too much of a breeze. On occasion, petals fall dizzyingly from the high branches. I get one on my nose while eating a cookie, and Tsuzuki laughs, plucking it off.

It's heaven. Well, not exactly. It's Meifu, but right now it sure feels like heaven.

Finally, when the cookies have been eaten and the tea drunk, we sit back against the massive trunk of the tree, content to just be quiet.

"Tsuzuki?"

"Mmm?" Out of the corner of my eye, Tsuzuki looks as though he's deep in thought. I turn, facing him. Better get this all out at once, before I lose my nerve.

"I don't know why I killed him. Most of it's because of the way the spells locked. Even he said that. But that's only part of it. And I guess there was also revenge. But I think that I felt like I had to do it because…" There's a long silence, but Tsuzuki waits patiently, his violet eyes catching a glint of sun through the dappled shade.

I struggle to get the words out. "Because I wanted to protect you." There, now you've said it. I wonder what he's going to think.

"Protect me?" He looks a bit surprised.

"Yeah. I don't want him to be able to hurt you again like he did last time." I wince inside, hoping that this doesn't send him into a spiral of guilt. I've been skirting the issue for a while now, walking around him as if on broken glass, afraid to damage what fragile peace he had come to in the last few months.

"Last time…" His voice is toneless. Quickly, he snaps out of it. "Did you go looking for him to kill him for me?"

"No. He was looking for me. He came and told me where to find him. In a dream."

"That's odd." Tsuzuki's lips move into a little frown, the one that he does when he's thinking.

"Yeah. I don't know why he would do something like that. Since I have every reason and then some to kill him. Maybe it was part of a bigger plan."

"Maybe he wanted to die," Tsuzuki says thoughtfully.

"Or maybe he never imagined that I'd kill him," I reply.

"I guess now we'll never know." Tsuzuki pauses. I can feel his emotions shift into a certain odd anticipation. He fiddles with the empty can of his tea, turning it over in his hands.

"Ne, Hisoka?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you going to do now?" Tsuzuki continues to play with the can as if it's the most interesting thing ever in the world.

"I don't know."

"Oh." A weird twisty sense of disappointment. I wonder what that's coming from. He looks to his watch. "Ah, we better get back."

Tsuzuki stands up, dusts himself off, and reaches down, offering me his hand. I clasp it, and he pulls me up into the sunlight.

So what am I going to do now?

*******

|Muraki|

All my life, I had been searching for that one pure moment. Who thought that it would have been soaked with blood?

I had never seen you look so shocked before in your life. Your face drained of color, an unhealthy pallor of fear settling over you, and you clutched at your heart. No, your shoulder. I wondered why. It seemed rather odd at the time.

You begged him to stop, your voice coming in little gasps, but he was too far past that point, slipped into that realm from which no one can return from once they've begun. I've seen it only once since in my life. Both times, I almost died.

Always practical, even then you had the presence of mind to reach for the phone to call emergency services, as I was sprawled in a growing pool of my own blood. That's when he grabbed you, pulling you close to him, a violent jerk of motion.

All this happened in the span of a few seconds, before I could react. My mouth didn't seem like it was working, my voice unreachable. Ukyo, I wanted to cry out. He's going to kill you. Let her go, Takazano. Kill me if you want to, I'm the one you hate. But let her go.

If I could have that moment back, I think I would have rather died myself than live with what happened to you. As it was, I couldn't even make my voice work. Pathetic.

You tried twisting away but you couldn't, he had you trapped against him, and I was stumbling to my feet, trying to get there, to protect you, to fight him off because you were so small and couldn't possibly, couldn't possibly keep him from killing you.

You struggled with him for the gun. I hurled myself at him, trying to knock him down, to take another shot, if I had to. And in that instant…in that instant, you managed to turn the gun just as his finger pulled the trigger.

Gods, Ukyo. Why didn't you tell me?

His eyes. They were so surprised in that moment. Dark brown, and opened so very wide when the blood started gushing from his throat. The shot went neatly through his neck, severing arteries, passing through his spine. It was a mortal wound.

The three of us fell in a tangled heap. In an instant, you were drenched with his blood, an outpouring of crimson that seemed to go on and on. But it seemed as if you didn't notice, your mouth opening in a soundless scream, your body twisted with pain. I couldn't understand why, and pulling you away, I looked into your horrified eyes. With my blood-slicked hands I felt you over for wounds, trying to discern if he had somehow injured you. Ukyo, I said. Ukyo, are you all right? Are you all right?

But as he gasped his final breaths, you whimpered, your eyes growing glassy. Your fingers clutched at your own throat just as his breath stopped and you passed out, a dead weight against me. My heart almost stopped when I realized you weren't breathing. Shakily, I felt for your pulse. But then, you took a breath, and continued to breathe, and I almost cried from relief.

Inching myself along the floor, I didn't let you go, but managed to reached over for the phone that had been knocked over in the fight. A dial tone. Oh good, he wasn't as thorough as I thought he would have been. I dialed the emergency services, slammed the receiver against the floor a few times, and happily lost consciousness with you in my arms.

Ukyo. Why didn't you tell me you were an empath?

So now it's spring. Everything's faded to scars even as the world returns to life. I can go outside now. I bury myself in work and research so that I can live without crying or thinking of you. Oriya's stopped making me call him every day to make sure that I'm eating. I can move my shoulder again. There's a jagged scar along my lower eye that won't ever look right. I think it scares children. Oh well. I suppose I'll grow my hair out.

I've given up on color. I used to like them, wearing all sorts of different ones, surrounding myself with them because I am so colorless myself. But now, they seem to mock me. Black in particular seems to insult me ridiculously. So white will have to do. The color of mourning, you know. And of blankness. I'm growing accustomed to a thousand different of shades of white. There are so many of them.

I want to be an empty slate inside. Instead, I'm full of shadows.

Your mother was the one told me about your empathic ability. She came to thank me for trying to protect you; the details had all come out in the police reports. At the time, I didn't believe it. I was lying in a hospital bed, patched up and drugged, on a silly amount of painkillers, and thought I was imagining the conversation. But no, that was the secret. Muraki-san, this is why she wanted to be a doctor, but could only go into cellular research. Because she wanted to help people and ease their suffering, you see? But at the same time she couldn't stand their suffering either, so she had to keep it abstract to protect herself. Because strands of DNA don't cry or hurt when they die.

Now it made sense. All those little odd bits of you tied together when your mother told me. No one other than your mother knew, your father having left when you were very small. Your mother cried then, when she told me that you had to be institutionalized, because she knew you weren't ever going to be all right again. You had killed the man who was closest to your mind, a man you had grown up with, closer than I could have ever hoped to be, and it had shattered something intrinsic to what you were. Your senses had followed him as he slid down into death and like that, your mind snapped with it. You couldn't protect yourself. The pain and guilt was too much to bear, so you disappeared into the darkness of his death.

You never really woke up again after Takazano-san died. It wasn't that you weren't physically awake. It's just that whatever made you Ukyo was gone. I like to think that you're in there somewhere, hiding. But I can't say for certain. It's not as though I can reach you, no matter what I do. It's a comforting thought, though.

It was almost an entire year before you would move on your own without prompting, and I waited five years to hear you speak for the first time. Even then it was just to ask for a glass of water before you lapsed into silence again. But now that you talk more often, it's not quite you exactly. Your mind's healed to a degree, in pieces, but what's expressing itself is like the mind of a child. I suppose there's nothing to be done about that. But I can hope.

No amount of therapists could ever piece you back together again, not to anything resembling what you had been. But a promise is a promise, and I'll still come to visit you at the hospital. I'll take you out once in a while when they allow for it and you feel up to it. It's the least I can do since we can't be married properly. After all, there's still the possibility that you'll wake up one day.

Ne, Ukyo. When you wake up, shall we go dancing?

Please?

*******

|Hisoka|

Time flies when you're having fun. This wasn't very fun though.

So it's been two days since I woke up after I passed out fighting Muraki in Chijou. I spent the last two days bouncing back and forth between real work (re: moving papers around), harassing Tsuzuki to finish his report, and drafting this report. I've put most of it to text. It's weird how hard it is to piece memories back together on paper. You have to work your way backwards through time but at the same time, have to put it together in a linear, logical sense. And then inside of that, there's all these bits and pieces of memory that come up as you write, little leaps of insight that come flying at you when you least expect it.

It's odd how much of the memories of the last few days break down into strange observations such as "my feet hurt because I had been walking around too long" and "Muraki adjusts his glasses a lot when he's agitated."

Thank goodness for word processing programs. And the delete button. I've also become very good friends with cut and paste. Makes me wonder how Juuohcho was run before it was computerized. I suppose the file archives were bigger than they are now. And they used more erasers.

Oh boy. I just did a page count, and this is turning into a mini-saga. I better ask Tatsumi to make sure that there's no page limits or something like that. Maybe I should write an abstract. This makes me wonder if there's some sort of Shinigami inter-departmental writing contest. Best report gets a pat on the back from Enma and free lunch for a week.

I seriously need a break.

But first, I'll make a quick summary of the basic events. It's probably better than an abstract anyway. At least it'll give me a good place to refer to if I have to rewrite anything.

/Friday morning, approx. 3:00 AM - Wake up from dream. Don't remember the details, other than the involvement of one Muraki Kazutaka (appendix 1). Curse marks hurt (appendix 3). Go back to bed an hour later./

/Saturday morning, approx. 3:00 AM - Wake up from dream. Dream consists of usual nightmare of Muraki (appendix 1&2), except he's talking about current information. Curse marks hurt. Stay awake the rest of the night./

/ Sunday morning, approx. 3:00 AM - Wake up from dream. Dream centers around Muraki, this time he gives an address and a time and place. Curse marks hurt. Write down information. Stay awake the rest of the night./

/Sunday, 8:00 AM - Day off./

/Sunday, 11:00 AM - Decide to look for Muraki at address provided. Leave for Chijou (see Tsuzuki Asato's report for collaboration on times and activities). Tell no one. Walk around Tokyo most of the day./

/ Sunday, 6:00 PM - Meet with Muraki at designated location (see page 4). Converse for approximately half an hour to an hour (see page 7-10 for full synopsis of conversation). Topically, it ranges from a variety of topics including his past dealings regarding both Tsuzuki Asato and self. He also speaks about his past at length./

/Sunday, approx. 7:00 PM - Muraki begins casting. Begin casting as well. According to eyewitness account (see Tsuzuki Asato's report) the basic mechanics goes as follows: both casters cast similar binding spells at roughly the same time. Thus, instead of properly binding the other party, the spells collided and colluded, forming an interlinking kekkai that bound both involved parties. (According to Tenji's treatise on binding spells, this has a 1/40,000 chance of occurrence if both casters are attuned. See appendix 4 for examples of precedent.) According to Tsuzuki Asato's report, neither caster could dispel their own spell nor the other's unless there was dual consent in untangling the spells, a third party to break the seal, or the death of one of the casters (see also, report page 11-13 and appendix 4). This is collaborated with Muraki's own statements regarding the spells (see page 11). Note that third party interference, according to Tsuzuki Asato's report, would have probably killed both bound parties./

/Sunday, approx. 7:05 PM - Shoot Muraki through the heart with standard caliber handgun (appendix 5), whereupon he dies. Lose consciousness from the pain of the curse marks. Returned to Meifu by Tsuzuki Asato./

/Monday, approx. 10:00 AM - Wake up in Meifu. Curse marks appear to have permanently disappeared, as caused by Muraki's demise (appendix 1&3). See Watari Yutaka's report for full medical breakdown./

There. That seems pretty good. Nice and sterile. It's odd seeing it put down like this, in such a clean and tidy way. Makes me feel better somehow to see it written up so neatly like this. Almost like it's just another case, instead of something that happened to me.

I think I'll print out a copy of this whole thing and go ask Tatsumi for his advice. Maybe he'll know of a better way to word some of this stuff…

Oh yeah. Watari's medical report. I forgot about this. I should probably read it since I'm supposed to be using it as a source for my report. Cite, cite, cite. A Shinigami's work is never done. Well, let's give it a look.

Skim, blah blah, skim. Usual medical junk. Oh wait. This is odd.

/12:00 AM. It's been about five hours since Tsuzuki brought Kurosaki-kun back to our infirmary. He's not conscious, but he's awake. Physically, he's perfectly normal: reflex, blood work, and all the rest seem to be completely okay (charts attached). I think at this point we've run through every possible test we can think of. He's a little dehydrated and looks tired, but he's not responding to any outside stimulus. [ I had to kick Tsuzuki out for a few minutes because he was freaking out too much.] I am now going to hook him up to some more scanning equipment and run some more thorough tests./

/12:44 AM. The results are back. I've been comparing his brain wave activity with the scan that the Gushoushin found from his first comprehensive physical here. Without getting too technical, his brain's not doing too well. The neural pathways have somehow been disrupted, and in a bad way. We'll keep monitoring./

/1:02 AM. No change. Tsuzuki's been filling me in on some details - it looks like Muraki said something about empaths being prone to emotional or mental damage from the shock of murdering someone who's close to them. I think this "closeness" may have something to do with the curse marks that Kurosaki-kun has mentioned. Tsuzuki doesn't seem to have an opinion on that./

/1:31 AM. No change. :(/

/2:05 AM. No change. This makes me really, really worried./

/2:31 AM. Kurosaki-kun seems to be stabilizing, thank goodness./

/3:02 AM. Gradual stability is returning quickly. I assume this has to do with the fact that he's a Shinigami. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if he was just a regular human being. It looks like Shinigami can repair themselves better than humans in this way too. I'll have to make a note of this in the Compendium later./

/ 3:55 AM. Kurosaki-kun's last test results came back normal. He'll be fine in the morning, once he wakes up. Poor Bon, he looks tired. I'm going to leave Tsuzuki here. I told him to page me if he needs me for anything. I'm off to bed now. Watari out!/

Well, damn. I guess Muraki was right. I spend a few moments boggling my way through the file. Wow. I was really messed up for a while there. I set the file down with a thud.

Okay, it's really time for a break now. Report writing sucks.

Hey, there's Tsuzuki. I wonder if he could use a cookie. Heh.

*******

|Muraki|

Hello, brother.

Oh my. It's been a long time, hasn't it? I must apologize that I was remiss in coming to visit you. After all, I didn't know you were here all this time. And I have been so very busy with my life. Much has changed, you know. I should arrange for some tea and we'll have a proper little party, just the two of us, and I'll bring you up to date.

Do you think the professor will mind if I sprinkle some cookie crumbs in your tank? I recall you loved almonds. Mother and Father did too. Cyanide tastes the same. But of course, you knew that.

Dear, dear Saki. To think, that Professor Satomi, my father's closest friend who was even friends with my reclusive mother would have betrayed me so. How old was I then? Too young indeed to be coming up with such intricate ploys as taking the barely cold body of a family friend's son to use in forbidden research.

Ah well, can't blame the man, can we? Two birds with one stone, as they say. You know, it's really an utter shame that you never knew him better. He always managed to bring me something nice for me when I was a child - a book, a pencil case, some chocolates. You would have liked him, I think, Satomi. Nice, nice man. Very dedicated, you know. He'd do anything for his work. I suppose that makes him a bit like me. Or me a bit like him.

Saki, it was terribly awkward. You really inconvenienced us. A murdered boy and no real proof of anything, other than the word of a servant and a youth who still needed the guidance of an adult. Even then I knew that it would look quite bad in a court of law, especially since both my parents were dead. Poor Sakaki. I would never have wanted him to take the blame for anything, much less ending your sorry existence and saving mine. Besides, he's always been loyal to me. He's so very good at what he does. And he makes such delicious tea.

Oh, but now that makes me wonder. What if he had missed and hit the wrong boy? Would you have rushed me to the hospital? Or would you have been like me and watched as my blood ran out until my breath stopped?

I trusted him, you know. Satomi. He was the only one I knew that could help us with it. Getting rid of you, that is. But to think that all these years, he's been hosting you in this fancy glass palace, half-awake, half-dreaming. It's a shame that he harvested most of your body parts for his work. Yet still, you're alive, somewhere in there. Oh, I owe him a great favor for this.

Betrayal, trust…none of these things ultimately matter. It all comes down to this beautiful gift that is you. For you see, my dear, lovely, sweet brother, I think I know where it all went wrong. Everything that is. Everything in my life.

See, I've traced it to its source. All these years, it's been your doing. You're the one who started me on that twisted path, turned me into the man that I've become, and I think I'm going to start doing something about it. Starting right now.

It's beautiful when all the threads tie together, my brother, like the weaving of cloth into tapestry, or perhaps more accurately, the workings of a silkworm upon its cocoon. Magic, you see, the transformation of a leaf into worm into silk, a thread that binds together lives and worlds and existence itself.

I'm really starting to think that it's fate. It gave me Ukyo and took her away. It gave me an illness that allowed me to see beyond mortal boundaries, and now that's gone too. And Saki, it was fate that led you to me, and took you away too.

But fate's given you to me again. This time, however, I'm in charge. And of course, I won't have it any other way.

Because I'm ending this little party, Saki. I'm tired of remembering. I'm tired of hurting. And I'm especially tired of you.

Saki. Did I ever tell you that when I grow up, I want to be free? I know I used to say I want to be a doctor and maybe in some less responsible moment, I might have said something about wanting to be a musician. But really all this time, I just wanted to be free. Free of this burden that grows by the day and makes me wonder if I can safely be around any human being that I care for without unintentionally bringing them suffering. For as you may recall, I'm quite gifted at pattern recognition.

But first, I'm going to be a musician. I've had years to build the instruments, Saki, though I never knew why at the time. I'll weave myself a tangled symphony, drowned in tears, written in blood, just for you. We'll play it together, just the two of us, like old times. I imagine the melody then will be particularly sweet when played in counter to your harmony. And after that, I'll be free of all this. And you, who brought with you all the suffering that I have ever tasted in my life, will live again.

Why? Oh, I'm not going to tell you right now, Saki. Maybe later. Yes. Maybe later.

Later, after all, is always a good time. Now, I think I need to set up an appointment. Someone once told me a secret. It was an accident; they didn't realize that this secret was an important one. Who was it? Oh, but it doesn't matter who told me - that's for me to know. I don't like showing my hand all at once. Makes it more exciting when we reveal the cards to each other in the end.

All you need to know, my dear Saki, is that it's really a very good secret. Involves a man who lives but doesn't live, exists but doesn't exist. He's got such beautiful eyes. I think he'll need my business card. Of course, this means I'll need to buy a knife.

*******

|Hisoka|

Yesterday, after some minor revisions, I handed in my report to Enma's messenger. So now, I'm just waiting for a response. After that got sent out, Tsuzuki and I got assigned all sorts of little jobs to fill up the time. Blah blah idle hands blah. Trust Tatsumi to keep everyone on track. I guess it's a good thing. The work keeps me from thinking too much about Enma's decision.

Anyhow, I've been helping the Gushoushin in the library. And He who Summons Twelve Shikigami at his beck and call, who harasses, I mean, harnesses the powers of the gods themselves, seems to have been temporarily assigned to the ever-so glamorous and rewarding job of filing. For Tatsumi, of all people.

I guess he's just lucky that paper cuts on a Shinigami heal real fast.

Poor Tsuzuki. It's only been half a day, and he's already starting to look frazzled around the edges. I guess anyone would look like that after Tatsumi's been through with them.

It's lunchtime and we're out on the lawn again. It's too nice to stay inside. Today, its sandwiches and we're sharing a big bottle of iced barley tea.

"So Tsuzuki. How's the beatings coming?" I grin at Tsuzuki, once we finish eating.

"So-so. I'm up to fiscal year 1952."

"Eh? Doesn't he ever file?"

"Of course he does. Tatsumi files religiously. I'm just reordering the recent files to the new system they put in, because of the computers."

"How far back do they go?"

"Really far. Thousands of years far. I'm just doing this century." Tsuzuki winks. "You know, they used to make them bring in itemized receipts for flint knives they bought in the field. And the Shinigami used to be paid in fish."

"No way. I don't believe you."

"All right. Fish and rice. And daikons," Tsuzuki says with a mischievous smile.

"Riiight. So are you going to tell me that they got bonuses in mochi?"

"Of course. But only during New Year's," Tsuzuki teases.

"Of course." I roll my eyes. "Anyway, since you know so much about how all this Shinigami stuff works, Mister Expert, why don't you tell me how long you think it'll take Enma to respond?"

"Enma?" Tsuzuki pauses, thinking. "Hmm…I guess it depends. Most cases can take years. Or it could be minutes. I've even heard of a handful of special cases that can take thousands of years to resolve. It depends, I guess."

"On what?"

"Lots of different things." He lies back down on the grass, his hands supporting his head. "Like what the priority is right now."

"What is it?" I follow suit. The sky is intensely clear, a brilliant contrast against the pale petals of the sakura. Beyond the boundaries of the trees, it looks like it goes on forever. The grass tickles the back of my neck.

"I don't know. You never know with Enma." Tsuzuki feels wavy - uncertain. I can almost hear the beginnings of a question on the tip of his tongue, but he seems conflicted.

"Something wrong?" I turn my head to look at him, searching him for a response. He does nothing but stare at the blue sky.

"Um…not really. I was just…just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"I…" Tsuzuki looks momentarily flustered, but his attitude suddenly shifts into something more outwardly cheerful, just as his internal mood darkens. It's like the shadow of storm clouds. "Oh, it's nothing. Just some random selfish thought. I don't want to bother you with it." He sits up, and starts dusting himself off. It smells so green, the crushed grass.

"Right." I sit up, scowling. It's really annoying when he's trying to hide something. Like I can't tell something's wrong.

"Oh, don't make that face." Tsuzuki looks crestfallen.

"If it bothers you that much, just tell me."

"It doesn't really bother me that much," Tsuzuki lies. This is so irritating.

"Don't be stupid, baka. You're hiding something from me, I can tell." He winces. "Okay, I didn't really mean it like that. Listen, you can tell me." I try to soften my tone. "After all, we're partners, right?"

"That's right. Partners." Tsuzuki manages a smile. "I guess I was just wondering what you're going to do."

"Do? What do you mean?"

"Most Shinigami are offered a chance to go on," Tsuzuki says, running his hands through the neatly clipped grass, his palms brushing their tips, "once they're done with whatever tied them to the world. You could even go right now, before Enma's decision. The judgment will just go to a different bureau. So I guess I was just…just wondering."

"Go on?" I feel like a moron. "I don't understand. How would I be able to leave?"

"You just…" Tsuzuki's hands gesture randomly, fluttering in the air like leaves in the summer wind. "You know. Put in the paperwork. Get it approved. Wait three to five business days for it to clear. And go."

"That…" I blink. "That's just…so…so weird."

Tsuzuki shrugs. "It's just how things are done around here." It's starting to feel cold. No, that's just Tsuzuki.

"Baka." I pronounce. "I'm not going anywhere." I give him a friendly shove. "I like it here. I'm planning on staying in Meifu a good long time, Enma or not. Besides, you're totally hopeless without me."

"Gee, thanks." Tsuzuki says with more than a touch of sarcasm, but he smiles and I can feel the wash of relief come over him, followed by a warm flush of some other unidentifiable emotion. He reaches out to ruffle my hair, his face plastered with that glowing smile of his.

"Hey!" I brush his fingers aside. "Not the hair!"

Tsuzuki grins, his eyes taking on a particularly playful gleam. "What about a tickle?"

"Tsuzuki!"

The sun's so bright that I think I'm going to melt.

*******

|Muraki|

Oh, it's you

Never thought to see you here. Alive and well. You look exactly like you did the day you died the first time. Brother of mine, why can't you stay dead?

I thought that for certain you had burnt up. Cinders in the black flames that can even destroy a Shinigami. Or at the very least, boiled alive in your stew of nutrients, meat in the pot as it were. A setback, for certain, it left me without a discernable goal, but still, you should really stay dead once you die. It's very impolite to keep coming back like this, Saki, just when I think you're finally dead. You're really going to make me mad.

Now I'll just have to kill you again myself, won't I? Don't laugh at me. I'll do a proper job of it, you'll see. I've gotten very good at this, you know. Getting what I want. Murder. It's all very fine and lovely, especially when it was all practice for you.

Ah, it seems like you've got a few tricks up your sleeve too. That one in particular is very impressive. I'd love to learn it myself. But do you know? Fire won't stop me. Not even Touda's flames. Even if you hide beyond it, I'll go through. I'm not afraid of anything anymore. Just wait, Saki. I'm here for you. You cannot escape me again.

I'm coming, dear brother.

Let's dance.

To be continued…

Disclaimer:
Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko.

Thanks:
Thanks to Cyrus, DWE, and Ruby Dian for their help in prereading. Thanks also to Drakstern for help on the mechanics of the action sequences and to Ruby Dian for answering questions on story details regarding Yami no Matsuei. Special mention to DWE for inspiring the omake, and to Cyrus for the 'small hands' comment. You'll see. :D

Author's Notes:

-To be continued…
-Continuity is a blend of anime and manga tidbits, plus a healthy dose of wild speculation. Timeline is post-Kyoto. It's technically an "alternative universe" following the anime ending.
-Funeral references from: www.sekise.co.jp/sougi/eng/eng3.html#9
-Mabo and shoyu are types of ramen (not instant noodles). Tasty goodness. Gyoza are those little dumpling thingies. They're also sometimes called potstickers.
-This fic was originally an experiment in a different writing style. It's also an attempt at answering the question at the end of "The First Death" which was originally meant to be a one-shot fic. Now, it's become a fic that deals with a bunch of different issues such as: Muraki's past, Hisoka's future, how those two relate, and some of the basic mechanics of the Meifu. If some points are a little obscure, the next chapter should clear things up. It looks like the next will be focused on the transition and training of a new Shinigami. I think you can guess who that is. :o
-Again, ff.net managed to remove some of the formatting. This time, it's a few sentences that should be italicized like the ones around it. It's just a little problem, but I'll try to figure out how to fix it. In the meantime, if you're interested in a correct draft, it can be found on my fic page.

Bonus! OMAKE! (Satire)

That Sensual Night…

Lately, I've been wondering about Oriya. It's a terrible cliché, but the man looks as if he could use a drink. With me, mind you. He would hardly stand for drinking alone. Impropriety, you know.

But a drink. It seems that he could really use one.

The careless fall of dark hair against pale skin, his expression unguarded - a hiccup. Yet I can tell that he's getting quite drunk, the way his hands unconsciously trail through the hot summer air, as if swatting at invisible mosquitoes, his lips quietly singing something incoherent. The movement breaks his usual stillness, as the plop of a fat frog disturbs water.

He sighs, his eyes close. He reeks of alcohol.

This, you know, was never the way anyone planned it to be. No one could have expected it; he started pulling off his kimono, complaining of the heat. I had to restrain him.

I suppose that's what drew us closer. Physically, that is.

I had offered, he hadn't refused. He never would have asked, but it seemed right at the time, to give him a backrub. A friendly gesture, really. He's been so terribly tense. He slid the sleeves of his light kimono off, pushing the top down, revealing his bare skin. It's a perfectly nice thing to do in the summer.

As summer is the season for nudity.

There was no massage oil to be used. No lotions, not even hand creams. Nothing. But I can still give a good massage when I put my mind to it.

And now, his hair falls back over his shoulder, trailing along his back, his head lolling toward me.

His eyes haven't opened. His face is full of lazy contentment.

"Oriya," I say. "Oriya, please. You should think about going to bed."

His eyes open at the sound of my voice, and he stares at my hand, resting against the skin of his bared shoulder. There's not much of a contrast - he's pretty pale underneath his clothes.

"Please." I give his back a friendly pat. "You're terribly drunk. I'll pull off the coverlet if you're too hot." And I reach out to him, solicitously turning him around to stand up.

Numbly, he leans against me as we rise, and his mouth finds mine. There's nothing more to say. Not that I could say anything in any case with his tongue going where it went. We stand before the open sliding door, to catch the breeze. I'm terribly shocked. Fine, I'm not really that shocked. But it's still a little unexpected.

"Do. Do you think. That I'm sexy?" His words come haltingly, voice drawling out the phrases.

"Well...I can't really say…" I pause. He says nothing. "Exactly how much did you have to drink?"

"Obviously more than you." His hand tightly grips my arm. "Now come here. Why don't you continue that sensual night under the sakura with me?"

"How did you know about that?" I blink.

"I know." His eyes look toward the saké jar. Mine do not leave him.

"It's none of your busi-"

"Oh Muraki, who needs a skinny little Shinigami when you've got me?" He launches himself into my arms. "I mean, really. He's got such small hands. You know what that means." I can't pry him off.

"Shall I walk you to bed now?" I offer, trying to change the subject. This has taken a turn for the disturbing.

"Thank you." He doesn't refuse. But he does drag me with him. Uh, Oriya? This might be a bad idea...Oriya? AAH!!

Taken from this conversation, and merrily blown out of proportion.
EvilAsianGenius: There needs to be more Oriya. :)
GenrouDocky: Yes! Preferably with cherry blossoms and nudity.
GenrouDocky: Er...well,
EvilAsianGenius: heheheh
EvilAsianGenius: I'll remember that. You're gonna make me end up writing a scene with cherry blossoms and nudity, aren't you?
GenrouDocky: Yes!
EvilAsianGenius: <Oriya> Hey there, big boy. Why don't you come over and continue that sensual night under the sakura with me? <Muraki> o.O
GenrouDocky: LAUGH!
EvilAsianGenius: <Oriya> Who needs a skinny little Shinigami when you've got me? <Muraki> I'm afraid you don't understand, Oriya, I... <Oriya> What? Don't you think I'm sexy? <Muraki> ...how much did you have to drink? <Oriya> Obviously more than you. Now come here. <Muraki> :o
GenrouDocky: Poor Muraki! <Muraki> *running down a path screaming* RAPE!
EvilAsianGenius: laugh!
EvilAsianGenius: <Muraki> Heeeeeeeeeellllp!
GenrouDocky: Now there's a spam fic.
EvilAsianGenius: I'll tack it on to the bottom of the serious one. ;)
GenrouDocky: Ooh! omake!

C&C can be sent to cori_ohki@hotmail.com
Extras may be found on http://eag.squidkitty.org/
Thank you very much for reading.