Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Yami no Kenzoku ❯ Chapter Seventeen ( Chapter 17 )

Notes: Boy-o, boy-o, where do I begin . . . My computer died. Went kersplat. Sang its final song. The sad part is that my old computer had Microsoft Office 2000, a program I was quite accustomed to using. This new computer that I got because the other one was just fried to hell is Windows XP and came with Microsoft Works. And Microsoft Works is a pain in the butt, to say the least.

Anyway . . . So I didn't really want to work on anything until I had Microsoft Office 2000, but there seems to be no way for me to get it as of yet. So I am braving my way through Microsoft Works.

Also, I finally figured out how this story is ending. And the next chapter will be the last. However, I hate to end stories on uneven numbers . . . It's one of my weird things. ^_^;; Thus I decided hey . . . I can just change the prologue to chapter one and this will end on eighteen even chapters! So I will be eventually changing all of the chapters to suit said needs . . . sorry, sorry. ^^

So yeah. Once I get this all figured out, the chapters will be changing. This one is actually seventeen. Also, I apologize for the format. Microsoft Works being a dork once again.

Lousy exposition rocks!

Yami no Kenzoku

Chapter Sixteen

Despite his assurance that he would heal quickly, when Konoe and Tatsumi heard of Terazuma's wounds at the claws of the hydra, they summoned both he and Wakaba back to the headquarters. Tatsumi was sent to fill their void.

A week following the battle between shikigami and hydra, they had no clues as to where they were supposed to go, or what they were supposed to do. There was very little to go on. Logically, the best choice would have been to follow Muraki. He was the one person they knew to be able to control a hydra shikigami such as the one they had seen that day in the park. It was the same as the creature they had seen on the beach in Kamakura, and at the hotel in Osaka.

But Muraki was no where to be found. Tatsumi and Watari went again to speak to Oriya, but the man was even more vague with information than he had been before. He did not give them any indication of where they should begin to search for Muraki.

Kaiki spent his days bed-ridden. Whatever had happened to him, it seemed to have taken quite a bit of energy from him. Konoe and Tatsumi had wanted to send him back to JuOhCho, but he had refused to go. He said he wanted to be there when they found Muraki. When asked why, he would not divulge in any further information.

Nor could he tell them anything that had happened to him. He did not seem to remember. Try as they did to take him back to those days, he could not. He only said that whatever had happened, it was nothing he wanted to relive.

Thus, they were back at the beginning once again. Tsuzuki was ready to give up. They had succeeded in finding Kaiki -- wasn't that the point of all that they were doing? There had not been a murder since the last one, when they had found Kai. Muraki, were he the culprit behind them, which was of no doubt in Tsuzuki's mind, did not seem willing to make another move for the time being. Tsuzuki wondered why they stayed behind, driving themselves absolutely insane on the vain hope of finding Muraki.

Tatsumi did not agree with him. He claimed that though they had achieved their original purpose by finding Kaiki, they now had the responsibility of finding who was responsible for the premature deaths of so many people. Tsuzuki could not argue. Tatsumi always had the final say. He needed only to do his job without question.

As immersed and troubled by the events and circumstances surrounding them, Tsuzuki could not bring himself to even enjoy a slice of apple pie. While the others remained at the hotel, discussing their options and what they could possibly do about the dead end they were facing, he had gone out to a small restaurant not far away and indulged his sweet tooth. He had in fact already polished off a slice of pumpkin pie and a banana split sundae, but for some reason the apple pie was not nearly as appealing.

Poking at it with his fork, he pondered what little information they did have. They knew that the victims were female, and as had been done in Kyoto a year before, their hair was cut. That was seemingly for no reason other than to be a mockery of what had happened before.

They also knew that Kaiki had been close enough to Muraki to be able to track him down when the man attempted to kill yet another person. He had failed in saving that woman's life, and Terazuma had failed in being able to catch Muraki when the man escaped from the scene. They had taken Kai back to the hotel without a single clue to go on.

Finally, they knew that the murderer was able to control a hydra, which cemented it in their minds that it had been be Muraki. However... Oriya seemed to know more than he was willing to tell them, and from what little information he had given Tsuzuki and Hisoka the week before, it would seem that Muraki was /not/ the murderer.

Tsuzuki frowned down at his pie. When he thought about it, none of them had seen Muraki. Not even Wakaba, who was attacked by him (or someone else, apparently) in the park. What they had seen was the vague figure of someone at the feet of the hydra, but it had been impossible to make out who it was in the chaos around them.

"So," Tsuzuki said softly. "We're just at the same dead end as before."

He poked the slice of pie. It had gone cold, not surprisingly. With a sigh, Tsuzuki stood up, took out his wallet, and pulled out the sufficient funds to pay for his meal. He left it on the table and strolled outside into crisp night air, hands thrust into the pockets of his jacket.

He had not wanted to have any more bad memories of Kyoto. Not when he had been in the city a year before, but more importantly not now, after he had gone through one of the most difficult trials of his life here. Fate seemed to have other intentions for him. The bad memories of Kyoto would not leave him. It seemed he could not step foot in the city without bringing some kind of curse. People died when he was in Kyoto. People died /because/ of him. It was no different now than it had been before.

There was nothing he could do to stop it. It seemed that no matter where he went or what he did, a spiral of death followed him. He was terrified that soon, it was not going to be some stranger he saw die before his eyes. Soon, it would be someone he was close to, someone he cared about. And again, like that time before, he would be able to do nothing.

"Tsuzuki!"

Tsuzuki turned slightly, looking over his shoulder. Hisoka was approaching.

"It's late," the younger shinigami said between gasps for breath -- he had been running to catch up with Tsuzuki. "We thought you would've been back by now."

"Sorry, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said, smiling somewhat sheepishly. "Guess I lost track of time."

Hisoka straightened himself, inclining his head slightly as he regarded Tsuzuki curiously. He had something on his mind. Hisoka had always been able to tell when something was troubling Tsuzuki, not because of his empathy, but because his voice changed. It became less animated -- more quiet and serious than usual.

"Is something bothering you?"

The smile turned up more at the corners. "It's cute when you're concerned for me."

Hisoka turned a rather interesting shade of red. "Idiot... I worry about you."

Tsuzuki stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. Amusing to think how they had been at each other throats when they had first becomes partners, and even still could have the occasional spats. But now it was different. Both of them had matured. Hisoka was able to show more openly when he was concerned, and Tsuzuki was able to share what he was feeling.

Sometimes.

"Thanks, but I'm okay," he assured his younger partner. "Just thinking about the case. Anyway . . . let's go back now, na, Hisoka?"

Hisoka watched him a moment longer. He wanted to confront Tsuzuki, make him open up and tell what was bothering him. But he knew not to push Tsuzuki. The older shinigami never reacted well to being pushed -- it always made him pull further away.

"Aa..."

Hands in pockets, Tsuzuki began to stroll away. Hisoka followed.

Silence passed between them, the only sounds coming from their feet treading softly on the ground, and the distant sounds of Kyoto night life. Hisoka stole an occasional discreet glance at Tsuzuki, but the other shinigami never seemed to notice. Something more than their failing case was bothering him, Hisoka could sense. But unless he opened up, he doubted he would know what it was.

"You didn't bring a jacket."

Startled by the abrupt break of the silence, Hisoka turned to look at Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki smiled faintly at his bemused expression.

"You'll catch a cold," Tsuzuki said, doing his best to impersonate Tatsumi. Hisoka was reminded of when they had been investigating the Satsujinsha case, and he had gone to the park alone that night. Tsuzuki had found him and said the same thing in the same way, down even to the impersonation of Tatsumi.

"I'm all--"

But before he could finish, Tsuzuki had reached over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Tsuzuki pulled him against his side and closed Hisoka into the folds of his jacket. For a moment, Hisoka could do nothing but stare wide-eyed, startled by Tsuzuki's open affection. But at length, he relaxed, and settled comfortably into the curve of Tsuzuki's body. He closed his eyes briefly, allowing Tsuzuki to guide his movements.

Even for just a brief moment, he was happy to pretend that nothing was wrong. He was happy to believe, for a faint second, that he and Tsuzuki were just normal people. Not a shinigami, not involved in a hopeless investigation . . . just normal.

"I didn't want any more bad memories of this city."

Hisoka opened his eyes.

"Tatsumi and I came . . . a long time ago."

Tsuzuki had a distant look in his eyes. He was remembering something long since passed -- something he had never shared with Hisoka before. Hisoka was silent, waiting for him to say more.

"A little girl was supposed to die. She was supposed to have been hit by a car, but a man intervened and pushed her out of the way . . . but she was still listed in the Kiseki . . . so Tatsumi and I had to . . ."

He did not need to say anything more. Hisoka knew what had happened. It was why they were called shinigami -- gods of death. Sometimes, when someone did not die by their appointed time, it was necessary to intervene and do what fate could not. Hisoka had never had such an assignment before. He and Tsuzuki always managed to be able to avoid those.

"It was the first I had been given an assignment like that," Tsuzuki said slowly.

He was still in that time, reliving that moment. Hisoka could not do anything to reach him there. He could not begin to understand how to help him.

"The stairs..."

"What?" Hisoka asked.

Tsuzuki pointed with the hand that was not locked around Hisoka. Hisoka looked in the indicated direction.

Of course, his mind mocked, Tsuzuki would have meant those stairs.

Steep steps lined with decorational lanterns stood before them. Hisoka remembered standing on those steps, staring up at Muraki. They had been slick with blood that night -- he had nearly fallen. Muraki had laughed at him then, telling him that if he were to fall, he would receive bad luck for life.

That night, he had said for Tsuzuki on the steps. He had sat with Tsuzuki when the older shinigami returned. Tsuzuki had been upset that night. Muraki had told him that the deaths were his fault, that he was the one to blame.

"Tsuzuki . . ." Hisoka began softly. "Those deaths . . . now and a year ago, and when you and Tatsumi were here, they -- they weren't your fault."

Tsuzuki looked at him, startled, apparently not having expected Hisoka to see through his shields.

"Even so . . ."

"No, there isn't an 'even so,'" Hisoka interrupted. "You're not to blame. That's all."

Tsuzuki fell silent.

"Admirable of you, to say such things."

It was a voice that chilled both Tsuzuki and Hisoka. They did not need to turn to know its source -- the owner stood at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the blood red moon.

"Muraki," Tsuzuki hissed.

The older man smiled down at him. He lifted a pale hand to brush away a troublesome lock of silver. It was then that Hisoka noticed a cut there, vertically angled beneath his false eye. It was at least a week old; the scab was beginning to fade.

"Good evening, Tsuzuki-san."

Cordial, as he always was. Hisoka felt Tsuzuki's arm tighten, on a protective instinct.

Muraki started down the steps, in painfully slow movements.

"This case has been giving you much trouble, has it not?" he inquired, in as casual of tones as one would use to discuss the most recent news.

Down another three steps. Tsuzuki unfolded Hisoka from the protection of his coat and moved the boy to stand behind him. The void that came from the lack of warmth and comfort left Hisoka feeling cold and alone. It was almost as though Tsuzuki was slipping through his fingers again, to a place that he could not follow him.

"Your friend was wounded by the hydra," Muraki said. "And the boy you call Shinori Kaiki is bed-ridden."

Down he came, until he was standing directly before Tsuzuki. Hisoka realized then that he was not a part of this. Tsuzuki and Muraki saw only each other. He may as well have been only a passing breath of wind.

"It must be very disheartening," Muraki said, but he sounded not at all sympathetic.

Tsuzuki said nothing, refusing to be baited. Hisoka could feel his hate for the man radiating through him. He had never realized it was so intense.

"I could offer you my assistance."

Tsuzuki snorted. "Your assistance? What has your assistance done for me in the past?"

He could hide the contempt in his voice no more than he could veil his emotions. Hisoka felt his anger and frustration and hate all coursing through him at the same time, and was over-powered by an overwhelming sense of nausea. His knees were beginning to feel weak beneath him.

"Tsuzuki . . ."

His pleading tone succeeded in breaking through to Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki turned to face him, and at once the overwhelming hate and anger was replaced with an almost suffocating amount of concern. The abrupt change nearly had Hisoka falling over backwards.

"Hisoka." Tsuzuki reached out a hand to touch him, but before Hisoka knew what he was doing, he had slapped the hand away. Tsuzuki drew back his hand, and Hisoka had to close his eyes to block out the wounded expression on his face.

"You should be more careful with that boy," Muraki suggested, but it was not of concern -- it was his usual mocking way. "You may well break someone as fragile as he is."

"Shut up," Tsuzuki growled.

"I'm okay," Hisoka insisted. Tsuzuki did not believe him.

Muraki, seemingly unconcerned with them, reached within the confines of his jacket and removed a pack of cigarettes. He put one to his lips and waited a moment, regarding them almost curiously, before he lit it up.

"What do you say, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki was silent for several moments. Hisoka wanted to seize his arm, take him away from that place, but he could not move his arms. Even if he did, he was afraid of what the backlash might be. Though Tsuzuki was more consciously controlling his emotions now, he could still very well be hurt by the residue of his anger.

"I don't want Hisoka involved in this."

"Wha . . . Tsuzuki?"

Muraki smiled. "Agreed." He extended a hand. "Shall we?"

Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Tsuzuki started forward. He did not even take two steps before a hand was reaching out and stopping him. Fingers gripped firmly in the material of the coat, Hisoka pulled Tsuzuki back. His forehead to rest against the older man's back.

"Hisoka--"

"I waited for you," Hisoka whispered. "That night, when you went with Muraki . . . I don't want to do it again."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. "I didn't mean to make you wait for me."

He reached back and gently pried Hisoka's fingers from his jacket.

"Go back to the hotel. I'll be back soon. I promise."

Hisoka looked up at him. Tsuzuki softened into a smile. Lifting a hand, he dropped it down on top of Hisoka's head and gave his hair an affectionate tousling.

Helpless, Hisoka watched as Tsuzuki walked up the steps and joined Muraki. With a smile, the twisted man put a hand to the small of Tsuzuki's back and began to lead him away. Hisoka let out a shuddering breath.

He would kill Muraki with his own hands if he did anything to hurt Tsuzuki. They had all tried for so long to put the shattered pieces of him back together after what Muraki had done to him the last time -- he was not willing to repeat the experience.

". . . Tsuzuki . . . you idiot . . ."

With Tsuzuki and Hisoka still gone, even an after hour after Tatsumi had suggested that Hisoka go looking for him, and Terazuma at the infirmary at EnmaCho and Wakaba with him, the hotel had become eerily quiet. Watari consoled himself by keeping his laptop with him at all times, and occasionally pestering Tatsumi into doing something more than staring out the window and brooding. Tatsumi seemed to have an attraction to that sort of thing.

Kaiki was asleep in the next room. Even after a thorough examination, Watari could not tell what was wrong with him. From what it appeared, the boy was simply exhausted, but he had done nothing since Tsuzuki and Terazuma had found him. They had treated his wounds, and since then, he had remained in bed.

However, he had changed. Whatever had happened between he and Muraki had changed him. He had always been closed off and withdrawn, but then it had been because he was impossibly timid. It was more than that now. He almost seemed suspicious, as though he was waiting for someone to jump out and attack him at any given time. His sleep, though always long, was fitful and he often woke up and laid in bed for long periods of time staring at the ceiling. In those moments, Watari always found him doused in perspiration, and his breathing came labored.

But without him telling them what had happened, his physical and mental state was not enough to even begin to imagine what was affecting him so terribly.

"Hey, you." He poked 003 in the stomach. "I thought owls were supposed to be nocturnal."

The owl stared at him through half-lidded eyes, hooted half-heartedly, and nestled his head more deeply into his feathered chest to sleep. Watari sighed.

"Lazy bum."

He fisted a hand to his cheek. He was bored. And when he was bored, he came up with ideas for new inventions. Thus it was within a matter of seconds that he had pulled out a sheet of paper and was sketching out the design to something he was not quite sure the purpose of just yet, he just knew that it looked really cool and that was enough for him.

"Watari-san, what . . . are you doing?"

Watari snapped up from his drawing. He held it out proudly to Tatsumi. "I just came up with it."

"What does it do?" Tatsumi asked, looking bemused.

". . . that I'm not so sure about yet." Watari frowned and began to nibble on the end of his pencil.

Tatsumi raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"But I'll figure it out," Watari said determinedly.

"And I have the utmost faith in you," Tatsumi replied, but the blandness of his tone said otherwise.

Watari watched him pad over to the window to do his usual brooding, this time with a cup of coffee he had picked up from the hotel lobby for his company. He had never been able to understand Tatsumi and did not think he would begin to anytime soon. Tatsumi was a walking web of complexities, one he seemed unwilling to have anyone unravel.

"How long has Kurosaki-kun been gone?" he asked at length.

"Hm~m . . . an hour, something like that," Watari answered. "Don't worry about them. They probably just got side-tracked by the sights."

Tatsumi nodded, not seeming to hear him, and took a sip of his coffee.

"I'm gonna check on Kai," Watari announced.

Tatsumi said nothing in response, only continued to stare out the window. Something was bothering him. Watari imagined that it was Tsuzuki. The other shinigami had left in such a peculiarly dazed state that Tatsumi he immediately began to worry about him. Tsuzuki always had that affect on him.

Kai's room was adjacent to the room that Tatsumi and Watari were sharing. A door connected the two rooms. Watari slipped in and was engulfed by darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

"Kai?"

He could make out a vague figure seated at the table beside the window. It turned slightly upon hearing his voice.

"What's wrong?" Watari asked, venturing a step closer.

Kai shook his head. "Nothing, I just . . . I woke up and wanted to look outside."

"In the dark?"

Kai laughed softly, but it was a broken, harsh sound from having not used his voice much recently. "I suppose it is kind of creepy . . . sitting alone in the dark."

"Nah, not real creepy."

Watari took a seat across from him. Despite how much sleep he had indulged in the past week, he had dark circles beneath his eyes, and a vacant look about him. Something more was wrong with him than what was within their capabilities to know, Watari was sure of that much. But he knew not to pressure Kaiki into telling them what it was.

"Watari, before I died, I was possessed by that demon . . . it was inside of me. But I was still alive inside of it. I knew what was happening, I just . . . wasn't controlling anything."

Watari did not say anything.

"Do . . . do you think people would forgive me, if it was something else making me do . . . making me not be myself?"

"What are you talking about?"

Kai shook his head. "No, never mind. It's not important."

Watari thought it was, but did not pressure him.

"I'm tired," Kai said quietly. "I'm going to get a bit more sleep . . ."

"All right." Watari reached over and messed up his hair. "Feel better, kiddo."

He pulled the door connecting the rooms to, so that he and Tatsumi would be able to hear him if he needed them for something. Tatsumi glanced up as he reentered the room.

"How is he?"

Watari scratched the back of his head, puzzled. "He said something . . . kind of funny. He wanted to know if he would be forgiven if for some reason, he wasn't being himself."

Tatsumi frowned.

"Could just be the ramblings of a sleep-starved, scared kid, though," Watari added.

"Maybe," Tatsumi agreed. "Well . . . I think I may go look for Tsuzuki-san and Kurosaki-kun."

Watari blinked at him. "You that worried?"

"Something . . . seems wrong."

Tatsumi shrugged helplessly. He did not know where to begin to explain. He simply had a feeling that was nagging at him, some kind of sixth sense, that told him to find Tsuzuki and Hisoka. It was not that he thought they were in danger or anything quite like that; but still, he was worried.

"All right then," Watari said. "Watch out for yourself."

"Aa. I'll be back shortly."

It was within Tatsumi's nature to worry more about Tsuzuki than he did anyone else. Past circumstances had made it somewhat of a second nature to him, to be concerned for his shallow fellow shinigami.

He had only partnered with Tsuzuki for three short months before it had become too unbearable for him. They had both been young and inexperienced shinigami at the time, not quite comprehending of what it was they were to do as gods of death. The reality of it struck Tsuzuki far worse than it had Tatsumi. It had broken Tsuzuki, shattered him far worse than he had been since he had first come to the Shokan Division. Tatsumi, unable to watch him spiral further and further down to a place of no return, called off their partnership.

Shortly after that, he had permanently resigned from field duty.

Yet still, though he had promised himself then that he would not be the one to pick up the pieces when Tsuzuki fell, he was even now that person. Even when he knew it better to not intervene, he did for Tsuzuki's sake. Kyoto the year before, when he had been willing to let Touda destroy Tsuzuki, had been the only time he had restrained and not stepped in. And the guilt he felt for it still remained with him.

Sometimes he wondered if perhaps, in the end, his decision to separate from Tsuzuki had been the wrong one. Instead of attempting to help him, he had given up on him without so much as a backwards glance. He still remembered how he had hurt Tsuzuki .

"I am not going with you on this case."

"Ah . . . okay. Well, it's an easy one anyway. Next time then--"

"Nor next time. Or after that . . ."

Not again.

"Ah . . . I see."

"I'm sorry, Tsuzuki-sa--"

"It's okay! I understand. I'm okay. I've gotten used to this sort of thing."

He had been trying to hide how it had hurt him with those words. Tatsumi had watched him walk away helplessly, wanting to apologize, to somehow make it work out better for the both of them, but he had been unable to do anything. He had simply let Tsuzuki walk away, and he had never tried to console or help him after that.

He had become harsh with him. Believing that the only way that Tsuzuki would adjust and accept his responsibility as a shinigami, he had treated him badly. He often blamed him for the debt troubles of the Shokan Division, or for the damage done to EnmaCho whenever Kagankokushungei and Tsuzuki's shikigami went on rampages. He had told Tsuzuki he would not amount to anything, with his carefree way of doing things.

It had not worked. It had only hurt him more to act such a way toward Tsuzuki.

"Ah . . . Kurosaki-kun?"

He had come to a dimly lit area, illuminated only by the decorational lanterns that lined the staircase before him. Hisoka was seated on one of the middle steps, his knees pulled up to his chin, and his arms wrapped around his legs. He glanced up upon hearing Tatsumi's voice.

"Tatsumi-san."

Tatsumi took a step forward. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for Tsuzuki," Hisoka answered. "We found Muraki. Tsuzuki went with him."

"Why?"

Hisoka removed his arms from his legs and stretched them about before him. "He said that he could help with the case. You know Tsuzuki . . ."

"He would not have thought twice about going with him," Tatsumi concluded. "That fool."

"He told me to go back to the hotel, but . . . I didn't want to leave in case he came back here." Hisoka turned his gaze skyward. "Muraki probably took him to the KoKakuRou."

"Then . . . we will follow."

Ori ya was no less than pleased about Muraki bringing Tsuzuki to the KoKakuRou. He complained about what had happened the time before, how Muraki had managed to disturb all of his other guests that were in the private rooms surrounding that which Muraki and Tsuzuki had shared. Muraki had not seemed very apologetic about it, but was a convincing man. Oriya let them in, though it was grudgingly and on the pain of death for Muraki.

Muraki poured sake for the both of them, but Tsuzuki refused to touch his. He simply sat and waited, amethyst eyes gazing through the open screen door into the courtyard, where Oriya sat and indulged in his pipe. His naked sword sat across his knees, as though daring them to do anything. Tsuzuki stared at its glinting face in the moonlight and was reminded of watching Oriya and Hisoka exchanging blows. They had both been impressive, but Hisoka had been better.

"Your anger toward me is hardly misplaced, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki said lightly, "but your attitude is somewhat irritating. Please relax."

Tsuzuki glanced at him, but only briefly. "The last time we were alone together, you tried to kill my shikigami."

Muraki chuckled softly. "Still sore about that, are you?"

Tsuzuki did not respond. He had been more than sore; he had been infuriated. His shikigami were very important to him, and Muraki had nearly killed SohRyu. It was not an offense he could easily forgive, no more than he could forgive Muraki for what he had done to Hisoka, or to Kaiki, or to anyone else's life the man had ruined. All he felt toward the man, all the anger and frustration and misery, he felt was deserving in every possible way.

Muraki took a sip of his sake. "You still wear your watch on your right wrist."

Tsuzuki touched his left hand to the leather wrist band.

"You still believe you have something to hide."

"This is not what we came here for," Tsuzuki said softly.

Muraki smiled. "No. I suppose it is not."

But he was in no rush to get to the reason why they were. He finished what remained of sake and slowly poured himself another helping.

"Tsuzuki-san, have you considered that all of these cases you have had recently are somehow connected?"

"What . . . do you mean?"

Muraki sighed, in the exasperated way a parent did when their child was asking silly questions with quite obvious answers.

"They have been connected, all of them, in one way or another. I should know -- I was the manufacturer of quite a few of those connections."

Tsuzuki's fingers tightened unconsciously around his wrist. "How?"

"All through that boy -- your 'Shinori Kaiki.'"

"What does Kai have to do with this?"

"Everything, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki answered patiently. "The person you know to be Shinori Kaiki does not exist. He is no more than a false persona built upon an existing one."

Tsuzuki stared at him. What Muraki was saying made absolutely no sense. And even if it were true, and Kai was not the person they believed him to be . . . how would Muraki know who he really was?

"It began at the school, with the demon case. His death was no accident. It continued on to the hotel, where you met me, and even into Kamakura. And he is now the only cause for you to be in Kyoto at this moment."

"I don't understand . . ."

"Shinori Kaiki is Shindo Saki. Your Shinori Kaiki is my elder brother."

Tsuzuki stared at him wide-eyed, unbelieving. It was impossible. That person -- Muraki's brother, he had been killed a long time ago. His name even appeared in the Kiseki. If he were alive, his candle in the House of Candles would burn anew, and his name would disappear from the book of the dead.

It wasn't possible.

"That . . . can't be. You're wrong."

"Wrong?" Muraki repeated. "No, Tsuzuki-san, I assure you I am telling you the truth. You met Sakano in Tokyo. He was a colleague of mine. He had studied the same courses as Professor Satomi, whom you met a year ago right here in Kyoto. They had worked together on genetic research. He was a master of his field.

"He made what could have been the perfect body, from the bodies of others. It was Saki that we used to complete it. Unfortunately, it worked far well than we had anticipated.

"Saki was able to escape, but like an idiot, was unprepared for the outside world. He was in a small car accident -- it hit him full on. He was rushed to the hospital and awoke to no memory of who he was and where he had come from.

"That was when the persona of Shinori Kaiki was built. He was placed in a foster home service and eventually adopted -- I followed him and tried to bring him back. There was a struggle, and I killed the woman that had taken him in. His memory, from the accident, was prone to come and go. That was why he carved into his arm that I had killed his mother, but after a month, he did not even know what that meant.

"Pieces of Saki began to appear. At times, Saki would be in complete control. In others, it would be Kaiki. They were trading control of one body -- a body that cannot sustain the both of them.

"In his moments of consciousness, Saki knew that I was following him. He realized there was one place that he could go that I could not follow. Thus, he chose to become a shinigami. He was the one that led the demon to the school. He was the one that unleashed it on those people. And eventually, he let it take him, or rather, Shinori Kaiki . . . and he awoke a shinigami in the perfect body, one that could and would last.

"The Descartes Manor? Phillip Descartes was the man that funded Doctor Sakano and Professor Satomi's research. How you all managed to end up there I find odd luck. I happened to be there to discuss the matter of Saki and the lost body, which had been our only evidence of the research being a success. And what should happen, but for all of you to walk right into my hands.

"He had changed. I was not sure if it was him any longer. That was why I took him, to examine him. I was unable to do a thorough examination before I was interrupted, and so I only had assumptions to go on.

"Thus I amused myself with you and the boy for the time being, and then following, I learned that you were in Kamakura. Seeing an opportunity to see your Shinori Kaiki once again, I followed and asked that he be brought to me. The scar around his neck confirmed that it was Saki, but the persona of Kaiki had become much stronger. I saw no trace of Saki in him, and hoped to draw him out by what happened on the beach that night . . .

"I succeeded. Saki was able to take complete control of the body, and has been for quite some time now. He was the one that killed the women here. When you found him in that alleyway, he knew he would be found out. He panicked. He shot that woman, and then turned the knife on himself, to make you believe that I had been there and the one that wounded him.

"When you arrived, it was Kaiki that was in control once again. But Saki has been able to come out. The one you met a week ago, controlling the hydra, that wounded your friend? That was Saki. Had you kept an eye on him, you would have realized that he was gone from the hotel.

"Both are struggling for control. I do not think it will be long before Saki wins."

Tsuzuki said nothing. Silence fell over them. From outside, there came the distant sound of one of the golden fish in the looking pool flipping out of the water and splashing back in. Oriya took a deep drag from his pipe and let it out slowly, methodically.

"We have visitors," he announced, rising and padding quietly away. Muraki followed him with his eyes.

"Why should I believe you?" Tsuzuki whispered.

Muraki focused his silver eyes on him. "Because, Tsuzuki-san, I have nothing to gain from lying to you. My only goal is to kill Saki."

Oriya returned, leading Tatsumi and Hisoka with him.

"Tsuzuki-san, are you all right?" Tatsumi asked immediately.

Tsuzuki slowly turned to look at him. "Tatsumi . . . Hisoka."

A cell phone began to ring before anything more could be said. There was a puzzled moment in which the five men looked for the source. Tsuzuki realized it was his and numbly fumbled it from the confines of his jacket.

"Ah . . . this is Tsuzuki."

The others said nothing. Tsuzuki was silent for a moment, then nodded his head.

"I got it. We'll get on it right away."

He snapped the cell phone shut and looked up at Tatsumi and Hisoka.

"That was Watari. Kaiki . . . is gone."