Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Monozuki ❯ Kyo and Dahlia ( Chapter 10 )

Monozuki - An Idle Curiosity

A Weiss Kreuz/Yami no Matsuei crossover.

 

By Kelly

 

Monozuki 10 - Kyo and Dahlia

 

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Review replies:

 

Fireun: Glad to hear from you and yeah, I know about feeling lazy about reviewing, no matter how good the story. Perfectly understandable. Hopefully though, we get to hear more from you?

 

Shaynie: Heheh, Lisa was put out with me for a bit coz I forgot to tell her you reviewed. . .silly Kelly. How's life going for you then?

 

Penny: Your wish is my command.

 

Amakurikara: Why, thank you for such honest enthusiasm for fics from animes you're new in. Hope you'll keep reading, yes?

 

Aj: Wow, to think our work could incite such reaction! (grin) Hope your knee's feeling better.

 

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And from MM.org…

Thank you, Mika-samu. I'm delighted that you liked Muraki's entrance, and that a display of brains on the part of the younger Weiss worked for you. I hate fics that treat them as idiots. Would they be in this line of work - and still alive - if they were? I'm such a sucker for that sort of thing.

 

And yes, Lisa was mortified over missing Shay's review. Oops. Thank you, Shay!

 

Lisa

 

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Author's Note To everyone: I am aware that some are feeling rather. . hesitant or unsure as to the significance of having Kyo and Takashi in this story, as well as some errors pointed out. See, I love Kyo and Taka. They're my OCs, yes, and I'm loathe to give them up. So bear with me and I assure you, what goes on with them both IS significant to this story.

 

As for errors and whatnot, please keep in mind that Monozuki started out as a drabble. It grew to have a plot, damn the thing, but in essence, it's not as important to me as my other stories are. Therefore, I. . er. . .tend to get a bit lax about bloopers and such. Heh.

 

That said, I hope you guys will stick with us anyway?

 

Kelly

 

 

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The coffee table between them made just an effective barrier as a ten-mile wide chasm would. The dark wood gleamed with polish - Takashi was quite meticulous about dust. Like an aberration though, a scar that marred the smooth finish, was the brown, dog-eared file Tatsumi had left behind even as he bid them goodbye with a wordless nod to Takashi, and the promise of a talk threatening Kyo behind opaque blue eyes.

 

Kyo hated the silence the secretary had left them with.

 

As though a kekkai had fallen into place, no sounds from the world outside their third floor apartment penetrated. And inside, even the ticking of the clock above the tv sounded muffled, distant. He and Takashi were sealed in a transparent bubble that shrank smaller and smaller with every breath they took and he hated it.

 

Silence gave him too much of an opportunity to think, to worry, to gnaw over thoughts alien to him and yet so familiar.

 

. . .san. . .

 

Just the faintest breath, an evanescent touch of a ghostly hand against his cheek. Kyo tried to reach out for the voice that eluded him, the one that danced and twisted in his thoughts like a virus, eating away at his peace till chaos and confusion reigned and shrieked.

 

Insanity for him came in the sound of the dull rasping of chains across a concrete floor, a metallic clink and rattle that pervaded his sleep and made him scream - anything to drown out the sound.

 

“Why did you lie to me Kyo?”

 

The question as was asked so softly; did Takashi fear to break the silence as well? Would popping the bubble be dangerous? For him as well as Takashi? But no, that couldn't be it. Because as he refused to answer, staring down at his clasped hands, Takashi, dear, sweet, beloved Takashi was raising his voice and anger colored each word, beating into his head with the force of a blow.

 

“I told you that I don't want you anywhere near them Kyo! I specifically asked you that and you promised!”

 

“—and you go behind my back, fooling me!”

 

“—lies! Are there more I don't know of?! Why—“

 

“—Kyo!”

 

“Kyo!”

 

“Kyo!”

 

“I'm sorry.” It was just a whisper, but he might as well have shouted it for the effect it had on Takashi. The former sensei, his husband, his love, his grip on reality, subsided, sagged even. The earlier vitriol could have used up his entire vitality - Takashi seemed to shrink into himself, become smaller, more insignificant, and Kyo felt pain, as real as it was insubstantial, rip him apart from the inside out for being the cause.

 

He scrambled over the table, never mind that the file got scattered in the process and cold coffee got spilt. Kyo flew into Takashi's arms and a small part of him, a very little part, so tiny and miniscule, was smug at the thought that even in the deepest of rages, Takashi could never turn him away. The day that Takashi did would mean his death. Kyo's. And Takashi's. Because if he could not have Takashi, then no one else will. Not even the world.

 

Kyo inhaled, deeply. The musky scent of vanilla, and underneath it, the clean smell of the soap they use, and deeper still, something that was all Takashi. He burrowed himself into Takashi's embrace, begged for Takashi to forgive him, without words, just the desperation infusing his every touch.

 

“You destroy me, Kyo.”

 

He heard the ragged, broken voice and he whimpered, cuddling deeper. “No no no not true,” he whispered, peppering kisses all over Takashi's face. “Only what I need to, never more, never more.” Was he making sense? Did he need to? Takashi understood him, always will.

 

Except for this.

 

But he'd make his husband understand. Because something told him that he needed Takashi there when he hears the answer. And it was the question that he needed to ask, oh so badly that he would deliberately go against an order made by a man he respected above everyone else save Takashi.

 

He must see them again. The assassins. The ones who killed by night and wore a smile the next day.

 

“I have to know, Taka,” he said in a low whisper to the corner of his husband's mouth. Takashi turned his head slightly, caught his lips with his own and they kissed, tongues touching briefly.

 

Takashi broke it off. “Know what?” he asked as his hands, large, sure and strong, caressed sweet patterns down Kyo's back, tracing delineated muscles.

 

Kyo concentrated on the feel of those hands, reveled in the sweet intoxication that flooded his mind and drowned out the cold clinking of chains. He surged against Takashi, felt the man's sharply indrawn breath, rocking briefly against the arousal pressed against his groin. “I need to know how they do it,” he moaned into Takashi's mouth.

 

They tussled for a moment, his strength and agility against Takashi's. Takashi won, because Takashi knew all of his weaknesses, knew he couldn't fight back when sharp teeth nipped the thin skin above his collarbone, knew he was helpless when confident hands stroked his hip, traced the curve of his buttocks, and pressed the cleft between with the lightest of touches.

 

Limp and obedient in Takashi's arms, the former sensei flipped them over on the couch, ending with Kyo underneath the taller man, back arched as their hips grinded together, fire congealing the blood in his veins.

 

“Know what?” Takashi demanded again and the plain tee shirt Kyo wore was ripped away with a ferocity that sang of more violence to come and he welcomed it. It wasn't just the sex. Oh, he loved the act, that was undeniable. But what he loved even more was the stark reality that grounded him, even as he soared beyond his physical body when Takashi was so deep inside him, pain transcended into bliss. Because when Takashi fucked him into oblivion, Kyo remembered who he was and he remembered who he will be and he remembered that the madness was all in his mind and that he could control it.

 

Takashi loomed over him, staring down with eyes that burned with a fire that threatened to consume him and it held him fast. “Answer me,” his husband commanded and he presaged that command with a kiss that bruised his lips and drew blood.

 

His tongue flicked out and the copper-iron taste filled his mouth.

 

He caught Takashi's face between his hands, held the man still and he answered. “I need to know how it is possible that they can kill, and continue living.”

 

Takashi broke free, catching his wrists and pinning them to his sides. Pupils dilated, it was Takashi who looked crazed, not him. “We are Shinigami,” the older man said harshly. Hard fingers dug into his wrists, bruising them as surely as his lips were but like the man said, they were Shinigami. “We kill, and we go on living. What can they tell you that Tatsumi or Tsuzuki can't? That I can't?”

 

“My poor baby,” was what Kyo murmured instead. A gentle tug, and one of his hand was freed and he traced the back of his hand against the smooth curve of Takashi's jawbone, rubbed his cheek comfortingly. Because Kyo heard the personal loathing in Takashi's voice, knew that the hate and shame was directed at no one but inward - Takashi was a doctor, someone who gave life and now he took it instead. “How can you hate yourself still when everyone else doesn't?

 

Takashi shook his head, dislodging Kyo's hand. “This is not about me,” he grated out. “Why them? What do they have? Why seek the answer from them?”

 

Kyo stared at him with haunted eyes.

 

He told Takashi why.

 

“Because they're human.”

 

 

*********

 

Tatsumi permitted them to sit before his desk in two, rather uncomfortable, spindly wooden chairs. Kyo long suspected that the furniture choice was deliberate - the perfect setting to impress upon the recalcitrant Shinigami unlucky enough to be called into Tatsumi's inner sanctum that he had a job and wages purely on the dark-haired secretary's sufferance. The fact that Konoe had that aged, brass plaque bearing the title `chief' was an inconvenience nobody wished to bring up, not even Konoe himself.

 

It was a simple, true adage the Shinigami of the Shokan believed in - what Tatsumi says, goes.

 

And for this, Kyo was willing to beg.

 

Hands folded serenely on top of the dark blotter, desktop free from any backlog paperwork, Tatsumi studied the two of them with a steady regard that, as experience taught Kyo, dismissed nothing. That steady, dark blue gaze could not miss the fact that the partners, left earlier that morning in what promised to be a righteously flaming row, were seated quite close together, spindly chairs aside, and holding hands. Kyo was also entirely aware that he was radiating sated pleasure - lovemaking had that effect on him. Not to mention the added bonus of helping him focus on the present; on the delicious ache of his buttocks, the remembered wet-scraping-fiery kisses that left deep marks all over his body and the slight burn of his throat from ecstasy-driven screaming.

 

The floating feathers - pure white, barred brownish amber, black even - was merely to exercise his fine motor control over Air, an extremely tricky element to master completely. The fact that he had occasionally used the (School of? Swarm of? Flock of?) feathers to commit grievous acts of thievery when the office was supplied with chocolate glazed doughnuts for morning break was too trivial to be mentioned. Or the fact that he once had the feathers morphed into a three-dimensional figure of Konoe Kacho doing a striptease during the New Year's archery competition (he didn't exactly planned it to happen when it was the Hokkaido sisters' turn).

 

A slight smile flickered the corner of Tatsumi's mouth.

 

“Tatsumi-san,” Kyo began, after an encouraging look from his husband. He stopped, blushed, and lowered his head. “I apologize, for going against your orders and bringing trouble upon the Shokan. I realize my error in misleading my partner and in deliberately cooperating in further disregard of your instructions. I promise to try my best, to not repeat such shameful behavior.”

 

Even the feathers looked apologetic.

 

Kyo fisted his free hand in his lap; embarrassment made him unwilling to face the secretary in the eye. That, and the fact that he still had a favor to ask of the man. A favor which he knew would rankle the Kagetsukai, especially now. There was a rustle, the soft click of heels and leather shoes, shined to perfection, entered his field of vision and a strong hand, lightly calloused, tipped his chin up.

 

"There's something else." Tatsumi said it quite softly, without any rancour, yet Kyo flinched, shooting his partner a desperate look. The shadow-wielder had provided an opening, yet he felt strangely reluctant to pursue it. Hanging over him was Takashi's earlier reluctance - the former sensei didn't want anything to do with those humans anymore. Only his insisting that there was something more, something important that will be discovered quietened his partner's protest. But Takashi's displeasure was still evident, judging by his silence. Yet his husband came through for him in the end, and it shot warm pleasure down his spine.

 

"Tatsumi-san," Takashi began slowly. He locked gazes with the secretary, Tatsumi assessing the former sensei with grave regard. "There may be circumstances that we haven't fully considered."

 

"Such as?" Tatsumi released the younger Shinigami, and rested his hip on his desk. The air of polite attentiveness made a warning shrill at the back of Kyo's mind; Tatsumi was most dangerous when at his most courteous.

 

Apparently, Takashi was aware of that fact, as well. He flushed, and coughed. "Er, yes. . . I've read Hisoka-kun's report, and I have to agree with his assessment that the situation is one that would draw Muraki-sensei, even if he is not the perpetrator."

 

Tatsumi smiled benignly. Kyo's hackles were instantly raised. "Takashi-kun," he rebuked in gentle tones. Arms crossed, there was a dangerous glitter in his icy-blue eyes. One that neither of them missed. "You're basing that on the reports of one who has had prior negative experience with the sensei. Who's to say that Hisoka-kun is not being paranoid?"

 

Kyo couldn't help himself. Or, at least that was what he told himself as he opened his mouth and blurted out, "But Tatsumi-san, the death of someone of importance to Muraki-sensei would attract him, right? He's bound to turn up, and since the Shokan hasn't had a lot of luck tracing him the past few years, this might be our chance to find out what he's been up to."

 

"But why Weiss?" Tatsumi responded sharply. The man was instantly back on his feet, only to place his hands on the armrests of Kyo's chair, effectively trapping the boy. Takashi made to protest, but was silenced by a warning glance from the secretary. "Why," Tatsumi continued quietly, "Would, on all accounts, a broken man, be interested in a team of assassins? We have no proof that they were involved, neither do the human authorities. I have Takashi's own professional assessment that Muraki Kazutaka is clinically insane, unable to function in normal society. A death, and him disappearing, is not conclusive proof."

 

The array of attendant feathers scattered in alarm, just as Kyo's eyes widened. It was unlikely that his argument to Takashi that he just had to know how the young mortals could do what they did, and retain their humanity, would cut any ice with the skeptical Kagetsukai. Tatsumi dealt in numbers, and facts, and hard-to-quantify 'gut feelings' did not make a convincing argument.

 

Agitation made the feathers swirl, a tight whirlpool of white, brown and black which Tatsumi calmly took in with a glance. There was a roaring in his ears, muted, yet there all the same and he grabbed the lapels of Tatsumi's coat. He needed to make the man understand. "We have to!" he gasped. My chest hurts, he thought vaguely. "Because if we don't, there'll be more—“

 

Takashi and Tatsumi waited warily, yet when Kyo merely stared straight ahead, seemingly absorbed with Tatsumi's tie, the secretary gently disengaged Kyo's death-grip on his suit. "Kyo?" Tatsumi murmured. "Are you alright? What do you mean, there'll be more?"

 

Kyo blinked, shaking his head in bewilderment. "Huh?" He looked at Tatsumi and Takashi blankly, noting their uncomfortably intent gaze. "What?"

 

Takashi looked away, anguish tightening his lips into a thin line. The secretary thoughtfully adjusted his glasses, settling them with precise care on the bridge of his nose as he came to a decision. "Hmm. Very well, then. I can see that you are quite adamant concerning the importance of this case. As it happens, there are those who agree with you." He turned away, as if the orderly surface of his desk was of more interest.

 

"What?" The former doctor's discomfort was forgotten as Takashi gaped at the broad back in its neatly tailored suit. "W- wait a minute, Tatsumi-san. What are you talking about?"

 

For a moment, it seemed that Tatsumi hadn't heard him, then the man seated himself deliberately, and picked up a single sheet of paper that had rested unnoticed on his desk's pristine blotter. "I have received a memo from the August Personage whom we all serve," he said formally. "There are certain. . .'irregularities'. . .that cannot be explained that have appeared in the Kiseki. Further investigation is considered to be warranted."

 

Takashi's eyes narrowed dangerously. “So you were planning on allowing us all along?” he demanded. “Then what's with letting us beg? You could have said it from the start!”

 

A sharp crack silenced Kyo's partner, making the younger Shinigami jump in surprise. He had been bowled over by Tatsumi's frank admission that despite his feelings to the contrary, they were, in essence, given permission by Enma-Daioh himself to pursue Weiss further. Tatsumi's rare display of anger, I'll bet his hand must hurt like a bitch, slapping the desk like that, Kyo wondered, only emphasized that conclusion.

 

“We all serve Death, here in Meifu,” Tatsumi said, voice low and dark. Fascination gripped Kyo; were Tatsumi's sapphire blue eyes filling up with shadows? The Kagetsukai locked gazes with his husband, seemingly forgetting his presence and that suited Kyo fine. He had gotten what he wanted. The whys were not important. But seeing two powerful men he respected, both the type to exude a kind of confidence that could not be faked, locked in a stare off was rather thrilling.

 

His feathers agreed whole-heartedly. Bobbing in excitement, the feathers settled around his shoulders, both watching the show with childlike anticipation.

 

Tatsumi continued, “We strive for the same purpose, but that does not mean I agree with the methods employed to achieve it. Are you saying, Takashi-san, that you're comfortable with allowing Kyo further contact with these human assassins? I know you, Takashi.” The more intimate form of address appeared to drain the hostility from the former sensei. Rapt, Kyo watched as Takashi smiled wryly, silently acknowledging the secretary's reasoning. “I know that we both would rather Kyo, Tsuzuki and Hisoka cease their. . .meddling.”

 

Kyo protested wordlessly, feathers looping furiously in agreement. He wouldn't call it meddling! That was just too crass for his taste.

“Nevertheless,” Tatsumi sighed, leaning back in his seat. “What's done is done. Matters are now out of my hands, since Enma-sama and Hakushaku-sama has seen fit to make their intentions clear. Weiss is to be kept under surveillance, and Muraki Kazutaka is again, the Shokan's top priority.”

 

“The Count has made a decree?” Takashi asked in surprise. Automatically, he made space for Kyo who had scrambled over, demanding to sit between his legs. Arms locked around his young partner, more to quiet him down, Takashi frowned. “It's rare for both Enma-sama and the Count to show active interest in humans. . .”

 

“Very,” Tatsumi agreed sourly. He made his distaste clear, holding up a paper bearing the watermark of the Hall of the Dead with only two fingers. “Both our Lord and the Count has allowed for. . .extreme measures, should we encounter Muraki, no matter the occasion. It seems he has tried Enma-sama's patience beyond endurance.”

 

Kyo stilled, ears perking up even as he fussed with Takashi's tie. His husband likewise had a death grip on a fistful of Kyo's hair, so surprised he was.

 

“We're allowed to kill him?”

 

Kyo mewled in protest and Takashi released his painful grip, murmuring absent apologies to the young Shinigami.

 

“Yes.”

 

That one affirmation had the ring of a funeral bell. Shinigami killed, yes, but only mortals who were supposed to die, but didn't. Actually murdering one whose name had yet to enter the Kiseki was against all rules. Only the most extreme circumstances, when self-defense dictated that no other option was available would a Shinigami take a human life, and even then, the repercussions would be felt for weeks, years, decades.

 

The stark assurance Tatsumi had delivered his response with shook Takashi. Kyo could tell. His koi was too still, practically a statue, mind probably whirling and tumbling like a mad Cirque du Soleil acrobat. Hmm, would Taka take him to see the next show?

 

Tatsumi's practical tones broke Kyo's train of thoughts on acrobats, circus tents and elephants. “There's more.”

 

Takashi swore under his breath.

 

“Enma-sama has seen fit to instruct us in seeing to the recruitment of the Weiss members as potential Shinigami.”

 

“WHAT?!”

 

Before Takashi could do more to express his shock (Kyo wiggled a finger in his ear, scowling ferociously; Takashi had shouted straight in his ear, damn the man), the door burst open with much unanticipated fanfare. There was outraged yelling, annoyed hooting and general mayhem as honed instincts had the three Shinigami jumping up in surprise, various weapons of destructions ready at hand.

 

Tatsumi with a shadow knife, Takashi with his hands crackling with energy he drew from the very fabric of Meifu and Kyo with a foot-long, extremely sharp icicle in his hand and feathers in attack formation.

 

Only for the three of them to be somewhat let down that the intruder was none other than Watari and his owl, 003.

 

Said scientist however, looked to be ready and willing to commit murder and mayhem, backed by his trusty miniature owl. Long blond hair frizzy and positively haloing his head in furious disorder, Watari howled a wordless yell of fury and pointed menacingly at a very surprised Kyo.

 

"You!" Watari shouted. "Fowl thief! Heartless criminal and perpetrator of deadly sins! How dare you!"

 

Kyo, rather bewildered and frankly, a little hurt, gaped and gestured vaguely. "What did I do?"

 

"What did you do?! What did you do?! He has the gall, the NERVE to ask what did he do, 003-kun!" Watari wailed, tugging his hair in righteous drama. "He dares to ask that when the proof is right there! Floating without a care in the world!"

 

The three Shinigami exchanged silent looks that conveyed a conversation - one which involved tranquilizers and more vacation time.

 

"Yutaka-kun," Kyo said cautiously. He held out his hands placatingly. "Are you talking about my feathers?"

 

Watari gasped, a hand clutching his chest. "So you admit it!"

 

"Admit what?!"

 

"You stole 003-kun's feathers, right under our very noses! From 003! He's like a brother to you! How ungrateful could you be?! All just for the sake of playing with them! And don't give me any crack about practicing your magic either!"

 

There was, a moment of perfect silence. Then, in a deceptively calm voice, Kyo replied, "Yutaka-kun. . .I took shed feathers only. You know, the ones 003 leaves lying about? Particularly the ones he deliberately throws away?"

 

Again, that perfect silence descended.

 

A sniff, and then, quite sulkily. . ."It's the thought that counts."

 

*******

 

Dahlia: Instability