Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Yami no Kenzoku ❯ Chapter Twelve ( Chapter 12 )

Notes: The fireworks display actually does happen August 10 of every year in Kamakura on Yuigahama beach. I didn't make that up, at least. I /did/ make up that there's a festival going on too, but the fireworks display is at least fact.

^-^ As far as how close to Yuigahama beach is in relation to where the shinigami are, at the Kurosaki house, I wouldn't know . . . so I do take liberty here by saying that on Shichirigahama beach (not far from where I put the Kurosaki family's home) the fireworks display can still be seen. So uh . . .bad me?

This chapter is also really quite brief . . . but try as I did, I couldn't get it any longer than this, having accomplished everything I needed to /do/ with this one. So yah. o.o That's what you get. Gomen ne.

Yami no Kenzoku

Chapter Eleven

"Eh? Fireworks display?"

Tsuzuki was stretched out on one of the many couches in the sitting room of their apartments in the Kurosaki house, hands laced behind his head and looking up at Tatsumi who was leaned over him. Hisoka was seated at the opposite end of the room, curled up in a chair with a book in his arms. His cheek was leaned casually against his fist as he listened to Tatsumi.

"We have been invited to attend by Nagare," Tatsumi said. "It would be rude for us to not attend."

"Nagare will not be going, will he?" Hisoka spoke up.

Tatsumi frowned. "I do not believe so. Miya-san said that he has some business to attend to, someone to speak to or something, but he would like for us to go and enjoy a night off."

"Well, I'm all for it!" Tsuzuki said cheerfully.

Tatsumi fixated a look on him that told Tsuzuki it was not going to be quite the evening he was expecting it to be. "We are not going to have a day off, Tsuzuki-san. We are going to try and gather as much information regarding the Kurosaki family as possible. Now get dressed and meet me downstairs."

Tsuzuki waited until Tatsumi was out the door to let out the dismal sigh he had been holding in. "That Tatsumi . . . he doesn't know how to have any fun at all. Ne, ne, Hisoka! Have you ever been to this fireworks display?"

"I think my mother took me once. I could be wrong."

Hisoka stood up and disappeared into his room to change. He had not wanted to go into details about it with Tsuzuki, but he could recall having gone to the annual Kamakura fireworks display when he was younger. He might have been six or five; he wasn't sure when exactly it was. But he did remember the sounds of the fireworks going off, the sight of them in the sky, and the feel of his mother's hand holding his own. It was one of his few happier memories of childhood.

Slipping out of his jeans and t-shirt, he thought of how often he had thought when trapped in that cellar that it was his fault that his parents had tossed him away. If he had only had the sense of mind to not say anything, to not tell his mother that he knew what people thought and felt, they would have loved him the way he remembered them loving him. That was all he had ever wanted from them. That was all he had wanted even as the weeks in the cellar turned to months and the months turned to years. Just to be loved and accepted.

Maybe, he thought, pulling his yukata over his head, it was better that life had happened the way it did. After all, if his parents had not locked him in the cellar, only allowing him out at night, he would have never been outside when Muraki saw him. And if Muraki never saw him, he would have never died. And if he had never died, he would have met Tsuzuki. So maybe, somehow, some good had come of the entire thing. He simply thought that the good could not yet balance out the bad.

"Hisoka! Are you ready?!"

Quickly fastening the sash around his waist, Hisoka hurried out to where Tsuzuki was waiting for him. The older shinigami was already dressed in his own yukata and ready to go. Together, they both went downstairs to join Tatsumi in the front hall, where he was waiting for them with Miya.

"You all look wonderful," she complimented with a wide smile. "Well, let's get down to Shichirigahama."

The walk was not a long one, but none of the shinigami would have minded if it had lasted longer. It was pleasant to walk through the mountainous paths as the sunset beyond the ocean. Admiring the view, no one said much until they reached the beach, as each was soaking it all up in their own way.

But once they arrived at the beach, Tsuzuki became animated and full of life. He spent all of two minutes with Tatsumi and Miya before taking Hisoka by the arm and dragging him off to try out a few of the game booths set up along the beach. Tatsumi shook his head mournfully.

"He may look like an adult, but he's as reckless as a child," he commented to Miya. "Please excuse his rudeness."

Miya laughed. "Oh, it's quite all right. As long as they enjoy themselves."

Together Tatsumi and Miya walked along the beach, occasionally being stopped by people she knew from the village that wished to have a word with her. Eventually Tsuzuki and Hisoka joined them again, Tsuzuki with various treats he had picked up around the booths occupying his attention. Hisoka was enjoying a modest cone of ice cream.

"Ah, SonChou-sama!" Miya said suddenly. She waved a hand in the air to catch the attention of an elderly man that was not far from she and the shinigami. He turned, caught sight of them, and broke into a smile before striding over to join them.

"Good evening, Miya-chan," the elderly man said. "Are you and your companions enjoying yourselves?"

"Very much," Miya answered. "SonChou-sama, allow me to introduce the mistress's new doctor, Tatsumi Seichirou. This is his son, Tatsumi Hibiki, and his assistant, Tsuzuki Asato."

The man's demeanor changed at once. While at one moment her had been cheerful, he became animated and joyful at once. "Hazama-sensei's successors!" he exclaimed. He reached out and began to shake both of Tsuzuki's hands. "Thank you, thank you for coming to this rural village! Please take good care of the master and mistress!"

Overwhelmed, Tsuzuki could only murmur, "I'm just the assistant . . ."

"Assistant or not, we are all very grateful to you! And you, sensei!" SonChou turned at once and treated Tatsumi with the same treatment as Tsuzuki. "Anyone that benefits the Kurosaki family deserves a grand welcome!"

"Ah . . . sir?" Tatsumi began, but SonChou continued to speak, as though having not heard him at all. Which Hisoka thought could very well be the case; the man seemed to be hard of hearing.

"Because the heir Hisoka-sama died so young, the Kurosaki bloodline could have ceased . . . For the sake of the village, that must be avoided at all costs!"

Tatsumi and Tsuzuki exchanged glances.

"Sir . . ." Tsuzuki started, but once again, SonChou continued without noticing him.

"I have spoken of something trivial I am afraid. Please, please, enjoy the fireworks display and the festival. I will be seeing you, I'm sure!"

SonChou, along with the other villages that had collected around him when he began to exclaim that Tatsumi and Tsuzuki were doctors, continued away toward the beach. Tatsumi and Tsuzuki, if it was at all possible, appeared more confused than before.

Tatsumi turned to Miya. "Ah, Miya-san . . . what did he just say? For the sake of the village . . ."

"The Kurosaki family are the descendants of a hero that saved this village long ago."

"Hero?" Tsuzuki repeated.

Miya nodded. "A long time ago in this area there was a snake monster born from a horn called Yatonokami. Through the power of the horn, it created plagues and famine and caused much suffering to the villagers. A sacrifice was made to it each year, in that lake near the Kurosaki estates, but the god continued to make the villagers suffer.

"But then Kurosaki Ren-sama came. He alone stood up to Yatonokami. Ruling over the village, becoming the leader of a band of warriors, Ren-sama stood before Yatonokami. Their battle waged for seven days and seven nights. On the morning of the eighth day, Ren-sama emerged the victor, having slayed Yatonokami.

"But the god cursed him and his family. Yatonokami's curse was that all members of the Kurosaki family, even today centuries later, is that all of the family name live short lives. Unnatural death, mysterious death, strange illness . . . all plague the Kurosaki family. People say that Hisoka-sama died young because of the curse of Yatonokami."

She paused to take a sharp breath of air. "Tatsumi-sensei, the curse extends to anyone and everyone connected to the Kurosaki family. Certainly, Ren-sama was a hero that saved the village, but he committed the crime of killing a god. The Kurosaki family is a cursed house!"

Both Tatsumi and Tsuzuki remained silent, absorbing in the tale Miya had told them. It all seemed absurd to believe that the myth of a hero and a god could be true . . . but both had seen far stranger things happen as shinigami. It could be the truth. And if it was, then . . .

"Eh? Tatsumi . .."

Tsuzuki caught the sleeve of the older shinigami.

"Where did Hisoka go?"

Yatonokami . . .

The story of the snake god and Kurosaki Ren. Hisoka knew it well.

Trekking up the mountain path toward the Kurosaki estates, he recalled the story his mother had told him as a child to memory. She had said it was because of a great warrior, who would have been one of his many great grandfathers, that their family was revered and loved by the villagers. She had told him that it was an image, a privilege that all members of their family had to uphold. And he too, as the future heir of their family, would have to be faced with the responsibility that came with fame and admiration.

Their image . . . their pride . . . that was all any of them had ever cared about. Even their own family, those that they should have loved and accepted despite all of their faults, they tossed away like garbage. Nothing could damage their images. They would not allow it. They would kill their own son to keep their place as the admired, the loved, the revered of the villagers. That was all that mattered.

Why, he wondered, shoving open a rusted gate to enter the Kurosaki family graveyard, had he been such a threat to him? Because he could sense the feelings of others? Because he was able to know people's thoughts? Why had they feared him so much? Was there something so terrible they had to hide, that they feared he would learn by looking into their minds?

He wouldn't have cared. They were his family. They could have been murderers, thieves, rapists, and he would have loved them anyway. Because that was the way it was /supposed/ to be. That was how the world was /supposed/ to function. Family was supposed to be the one thing; the most important thing.

And wasn't it to his? Sure, it was. Family honor and pride. That was what was important. Not /family/. But family /pride/.

His eyes wandered the names of all those ancestors before him as he walked, dating as far back as the beginning of the Kamakura era, from 1185 to 1333. For them as well, pride and honor had been everything. Ren had emerged as a hero and for it, they had all gained. They had all suffered as well. Because of Ren, they were cursed by the Yatonokami. Because of Ren, and the pride of all those that had followed him, Hisoka had never known the love of a family. He had never had a chance.

He stopped at the end of the graveyard. Away from all the over monuments erected to past members of the Kurosaki family, at the far end, away from all the others, there was a simple plaque embedded in the ground. It was nothing impressive. Made of a copper, by the looks of it. It was beginning to tinge green at the corners. Ivy grew over it. And marked on it, in simple characters, none that had been painstakingly made, was his name.

They had honored him with a burial. Some kind of burial, anyway. But this . . . he would have rather they thrown him in the ocean before /this/ . . .

Eyes blinded with tears, he stooped down and picked up the first object his hands found. He threw the rock with all of his strength at the grave marker. It struck and bounced a yard away. He did not stop. He stooped, picked up another, and threw it as well. He continued and continued until he had no idea what he was doing. When Tsuzuki approached, he did not even notice.

"Why did you ever have me?!" Hisoka yelled at the grave marker. "Why?! I never wanted to be born to people like you! I'm glad I'm dead! I'm /glad/!"

He stooped to pick up another rock and found nothing. Losing his balance, he would have crumpled to the ground, but a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind and supported him. Hisoka struggled blindly for a moment, screaming something he could not even identify. But finally he gave up and drooped lifelessly to the ground, Tsuzuki sinking down with him.

Tsuzuki kept his arms locked firmly around his waist. Hisoka shifted slightly, turning his head to bury his face in the fabric of Tsuzuki's yukata, not wanting Tsuzuki to see him cry. But Tsuzuki did not seem to mind. He did not let him go, and as Hisoka sobbed, he rocked him back and forth in a soothing gesture, until at last Hisoka's tears began to subside.

"Don't cry," Tsuzuki whispered. "I never want you to cry."

Hisoka caught the sob that had been threatening to escape in his throat. "Tsuzuki . . ."

"/I'm/ happy that you were born. I'm happy. If you had never been born, you would have never come into my life."

Tsuzuki tightened his grip around him. Hisoka turned slowly in the circle of his arms to face him. He was serious. The hardened gleam in his eyes, the way he looked at him . . . Hisoka knew that what he said was the truth.

"So don't cry anymore."

Hisoka closed his eyes. But the tears came, unbidden, and with a choked sob, he threw himself against Tsuzuki to cry against him. Tsuzuki put his arms around him and continued to speak in soft tones, until the last of the tears were shed and Hisoka was quiet in his arms.

"Don't cry . . . don't cry . . ."

Having woken up to find Tsuzuki sleeping in Hisoka's bed once again, wrapped protectively around the boy, Tatsumi decided to not wake them and have the moment to themselves. Tsuzuki had not told him what had happened when he had finally come in the night before with Hisoka latched to his side, but whatever it was, Tatsumi doubted that it was any of his business. As long as both of them were up soon and doing their jobs, he was not concerned.

The house was empty, from what it seemed as he paced the halls. He did not know where Nagare was, as the master of the house still remained to be elusive to he and the other shinigami, and all of the servants were attending to their daily chores. Tatsumi, being the workaholic that he was, thought to go back to his room to work on some of the paper work he had transported from EnmaCho with him, when a sound from one of the storage rooms caught his attention.

Slipping into the room, he found it occupied only by one servant. Miya was seated on one of the many storage boxes, apparently sorting through another. Tatsumi stepped fully into the room, accidentally kicking a box in the process and startling her from her work.

"Sensei! You startled me!"

"I'm sorry," Tatsumi said, genuinely meaning the apology. "You are working so early in the morning?"

"Ah . . . well, the master asked us to sort out this room a long time ago, and all the others have gone off to attend to other things . . . so I've been left here to do it all on my own."

"Well, I shall help as well."

Miya looked up at him. "Really? That would be great! Um, could you move those boxes over there for me . . ."

For the next half hour, Tatsumi did as Miya instructed him, not entirely out of kindness. Though it was not in his nature to leave a poor girl to work this hard alone, he had a feeling that he might stumble across something that would be of use to them in their case.

In the end, it turned out he stumbled across nothing. Something simply fell from a tall shelf and smacked him right on the head.

It was a scroll. Frowning slightly to himself, Tatsumi began to unroll it.

"Ah, so that's where the family tree was," Miya said, looking over his shoulder at the complex chart of names and dates.

"May I look at it?" Tatsumi asked.

Miya shrugged. "I think it's all right. If it were anything important, it would be in Danna-sama's room."

Tatsumi sat down on one of the many crates in the room to examine the scroll. It was not difficult to follow. Each name had a date of birth beneath it, some with a death date as well. Lines criss-crossing the page showed the relationship between the members of the family.

"Hmm . . . this is interesting," he murmured. "Everyone's given name consists of only one character. What is the reason for that, Miya-san?"

"Probably taking after the ancestor's Ren-sama," Miya surmised.

Tatsumi nodded. "I see . . . ah, what's this? There were female family heads in this line? That is odd for a bushi lineage."

"What?" Miya sounded surprised. She quickly put down the box in her arms and came over to sit beside Tatsumi. She took the scroll from him to examine it more closely. "This family has a tradition of allowing /only/ the first born male to take over as the head of the family . . ."

"But this is a female name, is it not? No matter how I look at it . . ."

". . . .well, I don't know. But at least anyone whose name has master beside it is male."

"Strange," Tatsumi murmured.

"Oh! The master's guest should be arriving soon!"

"Guest . . .?"

Miya did not answer him. Taking Tatsumi by the arm, she dragged him out of the storage room and through the many winding corridors of the Kurosaki household. They soon arrived outside of Nagare's personal study. Through the screen walls, Tatsumi could make out the forms of two men, one seated, the other standing.

"Danna-sama," Miya called, to announce their presence. "I brought the doctor as you requested." She leaned over to Tatsumi and whispered to him, "He wanted you to meet this man."

"Come in," Nagare's voice responded.

Sliding the screen door open, Miya stepped inside of the room and bowed respectfully to Nagare and his guest. Tatsumi followed her, and as he stepped into the room, the guest turned around to face him. A smile curved onto his face.

"Tatsumi-san. What a pleasure to see you again."

Tatsumi returned the pleasant smile. "And you, sensei. I was not aware that Nagare-sama had needs of a mad doctor."

"Ah, you are familiar with Muraki Kazutaka-san, Tatsumi-san?" Nagare interrupted.

Lifting a hand to adjust his glasses, Tatsumi turned his attention to Nagare and smiled. "One doctor knows another, as they say." He returned his gaze to Muraki. "May I ask what business you have here, sensei?"

"I had heard that the Kurosaki family was in need of a doctor," Muraki answered. "When I learned that you had been employed, I thought to leave, but Nagare-sama suggested that we work together." The same amused, pleasant smile appeared on Muraki's face. "What do you think, Tatsumi-san? We both might do well working together to benefit this family."

Tatsumi returned the pleasant smile with an equal one of his own. "If that is what Nagare-sama wishes, that is what he shall have."

Ah, pitiful Nagare . . .

The crime of your ancestor continues even through to this body.

Your father, your grandfather, his father before him, all have fallen before me.

You would do well to join them.

Let go. Accept this. Your pain will end if you surrender to me.

Do you not want release from your hell?

Take revenge on those villagers that sacrificed your family.

Those villagers that gave you up to me as my murderer to save themselves.

Your family was a sacrifice! And I was not destroyed!

Hidden in your blood, flowing through the veins of you Kurosaki demons . . .

Soon. Soon I will be resurrected.

Give yourself up to me.

Tsuzuki was shaking him awake again. Hisoka was beginning to hate his subconscious.

Opening his eyes, he found Tsuzuki seated over him, the same way he always was when he woke him from a nightmare. Or at least Hisoka assumed it had been a nightmare. He could not tell. It had been happening in black and white, as his dreams always did, but something, a sense the dream gave him, told him that it was not a dream. It seemed more like a conversation that had gone on not long ago, between two people he knew . . . but only one had been speaking. He didn't understand.

"Are you okay?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Yeah," Hisoka answered. "It wasn't a nightmare, I don't think."

Tsuzuki blinked. "For not being a nightmare, you sure were tossing and turning a lot."

". . . I think that I was in someone else's dream."

Tsuzuki had already stretched out comfortably on the bed they had shared the night before. He cocked his head to the side slightly, giving Hisoka a quizzical look.

"Can you get into other people's dreams?" he asked.

"Not on purpose," Hisoka replied. "But I remember a few times when I was a kid seeing someone else's dream . . . I guess it's a whole part of the empath thing or something."

"Well, what was it about?"

Folding his arms over his knees, still covered up to his waist in blankets, Hisoka learned forward with his chin to his arms and sighed. "Don't know, really. Someone was talking . . . to my father, I think. I think the voice said Nagare at some point . . . I don't know. It was telling him to give in, or something."

". . . creepy."

"Yeah."

Tsuzuki sat up and settled a reassuring hand on Hisoka's shoulder. "Don't dwell on it too much. It can't be too important. Come on. We better get up before Tatsumi comes back and realizes we were in bed till noon."

Hisoka climbed reluctantly from bed. He showered and dressed quickly, in a more comfortable pairs of jeans and a t-shirt rather than one of the yukatas or kimonos that had been provided for them by the maids. While it was proper to dress in such a manner, that did not change the fact that he hated wearing them. There was only so much of them he could tolerate.

Tsuzuki opted to dress more casually as well, in a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. Once they were both dressed and ready for the day ahead, the two shinigami went together downstairs, to see if they could find Tatsumi. As it turned out, it was Miya that they ran into.

"Ah, Miya-san," Tsuzuki said, catching her attention, "do you know where Tatsumi-san is?"

"He and the doctor are with Danna-sama," Miya answered.

Tsuzuki blinked. "Doctor?"

"Another doctor that apparently heard of our problem came this morning. He and Tatsumi-san have agreed to work together for the time being. You should go meet him. He's a very nice man."

"We'll be sure to," Tsuzuki promised with a smile. "See you later, Miya-san."

Nagare's personal chambers were at the far end of the household. Tsuzuki, not knowing his way around the vast estates yet, could not get them there, but Hisoka remembered from his childhood and found the way easily. They heard voices as they approached Nagare's study, one belonging to the master of the house, the other to Tatsumi. Tsuzuki hastened his steps a bit.

He stopped short as he reached the study. Hisoka, startled by the sudden stop, nearly ran into him, but he managed to catch his footing. Over Tsuzuki's shoulder, he could see Nagare seated at his desk, Tatsumi standing off to the side, and then . . .

"Ah, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki said pleasantly. "I had hoped that you would be here as well."

"You know Tatsumi-san's assistant as well, Muraki-san?" Nagare asked.

Muraki, the smile never fading, turned to Nagare and nodded. "I know Tsuzuki-san very well. Oh . . . and the boy as well."

He paused, a rather thought expression overcoming him. Hisoka tensed. Would he tell? Would he reveal to Nagare who he was? But if he did . . . would Nagare even /believe/ him?

"I see," Nagare said. "Well, then I trust you will work well together. But for now, if you will excuse me . . ."

He did not give reason for his wishing to be alone, but respecting his wishes, the four stepped out of the study. Miya was waiting for them outside. She led them down to the sitting room, where tea was being served. The four took seats around the room, the three shinigami all rather suspicious of Muraki. But the latter only smiled and looked, in all outward appearances, as though he were enjoying himself immensely.

Tsuzuki waited until Miya left them alone to demand, "What are you doing here, Muraki?"

"Hostility again," Muraki said, sounding as though he was complaining or offended that they thought he was up to something. "I came because it is my job to do so. I am a doctor after all, Tsuzuki-san."

"Did you know we were here?" Hisoka demanded.

Muraki took a sip of his tea, all the while smiling in that infuriating way of his. "I had thought that, considering the tragic circumstances of this family, the shinigami might be summoned. It was on a careless whim that I came at all. And it seemed luck was fortunate to me."

"/Why/ are you here?" Tsuzuki asked, making his previous question more specific.

"Because, Tsuzuki-san, you have something that belongs to me."

Tsuzuki was taken aback by this comment, that seemed to him to be completely out of the blue and absolutely absurd. He opened his mouth, attempting to ask what it was that he had that belonged to Muraki, but found that no words would come. Frowning, he took a sip of his own tea, while Tatsumi asked the question for him.

"What does Tsuzuki-san have that belongs to you, sensei?"

"A boy," Muraki answered. "That beautiful young boy of yours. Golden hair, silver eyes . . . rather difficult to mistake him for anyone else, I believe. I think he is calling himself Shinori Kaiki."

"Kai?!" Tsuzuki exclaimed. "What do you want with Kai?"

"I told you. He belongs to me. I'd like him back."

Muraki set down his cup of tea on the coffee table separating them and continued, "I knew that I recognized the boy from somewhere. One does not easily forget a face like that. But from where, I could not remember. It was not until you shinigami were gone from the manor that I realized who he was and where I had seen him before. So, I'd simply like him back."

"If you think we're just going to hand him over to you, you're crazier than I thought," Tsuzuki bit out.

"I thought that you might need a bit of an incentive. I would be happy to take that boy above your Kaiki." Muraki made a vague gesture of his hand toward Hisoka. "He at least is within my grasp to take. Neither of you would be able to stop me, as you have proved so many times in the past that you are incapable of doing."

Tsuzuki's hands tightened into fists at his sides. He opened his mouth, to make some kind of remark in return, but stopped as Tatsumi settled a hand on his shoulder.

"We will be sure to summon Shinori-kun to join us here," he said.

"What?!" Tsuzuki and Hisoka both exclaimed at once.

"You've got to be kidding, Tatsumi!" Tsuzuki continued.

Muraki smiled. "You are a wise man, Tatsumi-san. When may I expect--"

He stopped. A cry, filled with pain, echoed through the corridors and reached them in the sitting room. The shinigami exchanged brief glances, and without a word, took off in the direction it came from. Muraki followed at a more leisurely, no care pace.

Another cry came as the neared Nagare's personal chambers. Tatsumi was the first to reach his study, and without any regard for the man inside, he flung open the sliding door.

Nagare was knelt down on the floor, clutching his arms around his bare body. Without his usual yukata adorning him, they could see what it was that he kept hidden beneath his clothing and bandages. Scales, like those of a snake, covered his body in various patches. From his wrists to his shoulders, his chest to his back. He looked as though he were becoming a snake.

"Close the door!" he cried. "Close the door! No one must see!"