Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Monozuki ❯ Tatsumi and Delphinium ( Chapter 19 )

Monozuki - An Idle Curiosity

A Weiss Kreuz/Yami no Matsuei crossover.

 

By Kelly

 

Monozuki 19 - Tatsumi and Delphinium

 

********

 

 

Tatsumi Seiichiro's desk was clean of any detritus, edges aligned perfectly and at right angles, as all inanimate objects serving his craft should be. The dark green blotter had seen faithful service for almost eight years now. He was confident that the velvet could see another two before he would have to, regretfully, replace it.

 

He ruled the budget with an iron fist, but that did not mean he would be content with low quality merchandise, either for himself, or the Shinigami of the Shokan. Defective products only drove the budget higher in the long run with maintenance and replacement costs. Better to have a high, initial investment that would yield constant, dependable performance.

 

Of course, Tsuzuki and Watari liked to point out that staff productivity also depended on a healthy daily assignment allowance, with a minimum ofthree-star accommodations that would ensure peak output.

 

Tatsumi countered those admittedly sound reasonings with the quarterly damage reports as well as the rising, year-on-year laboratory costs.

 

No, not even for his beloved koibito would Tatsumi Seiichiro compromise the Shokan's borderline-red-budget.

 

Today though, the Secretary, rumored-to-be-the-real-power-of-the-Shokan, had a specific dissatisfaction with his colleagues. The object of his ire marred the perfect blankness of his dark green, darker-trimmed blotter with its presence. One long, elegantly tapered finger, nail perfectly buffed, tapped the offending article. It was a piece of yellow paper, your standard B5 measurement. Lined for the user's convenience even, which, this particular user seemed to have disdained as the words tended to follow a weaving pattern all over the page, front and back. If that wasn't bad enough, further offence was committed by the lack of a proper writing utensil. Oh no. Apparently, Tsuzuki Asato was beyond such implements like ballpoints or the elegant fountain pen.

 

Tsuzuki Asato, it seemed, preferred crayons.

 

There was a nervous cough, quickly hushed, followed by a rapid tapping of nail on wood which, thankfully, met a quick end when Tatsumileveled a cool stare at the perpetrator.

 

“Gentlemen,” he began, voice smooth and melodious. Watari, standing by the closed door of his office, turned a rewarding shade of red. The miscreants, well, sans Kurosaki-kun, turned a rewarding deathly pale. “I have here-” he paused for timely effect, “—your mission leader's report on the recent, malicious attack of a paranormal nature involving the four mortals known as Weiss.”

 

His lips curled just the slightest in derisive amusement. Humans playing god and daring to name themselves pure.

 

“It boggles the mind, gentlemen, how an event of such import could warrant a mere, two-sided paper's worth, written down in simple crayon.” Glacier blue eyes gleamed behind the flimsy barrier of wire-rimmed glasses, pinning the squirming wrongdoer under its weighty regard. “Tsuzuki-san? Perhaps you'd like to explain yourself?”

 

There was an eep. And most definitely a squeak. Followed by a meep.

 

“Kurosaki-kun,” he tried instead. “What is your opinion of the new, regulatory kits for field missions?”

 

The young empath inclined his head respectfully. “Initial use has seen favourable results from field active Shinigami,” Kurosaki replied in even tones, without a hint of buttering up. Tatsumi nodded in satisfaction. The young man was proving his initial assessment; Kurosaki Hisoka would make a fine successor. “Wastage has decreased by thirty-seven percent, spill containment increased by a marked twenty-three percent and initial mission report handover by forty-three percent. Case turnover has also increased by a staggering fifty-one percent and the Gushoushin have implemented the kit's standard reporting format for their level one filing.”

 

Pleased, he sent the empath a rare, genuine smile of pleasure, eliciting a becoming flush to the normally pale skin. And earned a hiss of “Traitor!” from the blond's lanky partner.

 

“Katsumoto-san of the Peace Division have also sent encouraging feedback of the test kits we've provided their Demon Extermination squads,” Kurosaki continued after shushing his partner with a glare that, if Tatsumi was not mistaken, promised a week's worth of sleeping on the couch if the brunet didn't. “They wish to initiate preliminary discussions to adopt the kit for their field units as well.”

 

Leather creaked as he leaned back in his high-backed seat, pressing his hands together lightly. “And there you have it gentlemen,” he said. “Conclusive evidence that the standard field kit has increased efficiency and cut costs by a remarkable fifty-seven percent. And yet. . .I have here, a non-standard format report, on non-regulation paper. Takashi-san.”

 

The former sensei choked on air, and his partner enthusiastically pounded his back, only desisting when Kurosaki pointed out dryly that he was doing more harm than good.

 

“Yes-” Takashi cleared his throat, shooting the wide-eyed Kyo a glare. “Yes, Tatsumi-san?”

 

“I respect you as learned professional in the field of medicine, with a steady disposition. Someone worth listening to.” With every praise, Takashi sank lower and lower in his seat, trying to meet his eyes and failing miserably. Kyo - and there was a time bomb just waiting to explode - seemed utterly amused by his husband's discomfort. Yes, he definitely needed to have that discussion with Enma-Daioh. “Perhaps you can explain to me the substandard recording of the mission's findings.”

 

Takashi tugged nervously at the collar of the black turtleneck he wore, revealing glimpses of lightly tanned skin. “I. . .er. . .” Tatsumi caught the man's hazel green eyes, flecked with gold, and to his reluctant amusement, the former sensei blushed a fire engine red, mumbling something incoherent. Ah, Takashi-san, he sighed silently. How could he properly reprimand someone whose main crime was to get teamed up the Legendary Slacker, Tsuzuki Asato? Not to mention how. . .adorable, yes, adorable, Takashi could get with his rather obvious crush?

 

Tatsumi sighed, out loud this time. “Tsuzuki-san,” he said crisply, and the brunet sat up straighter in attention. “You will re-do this, properly, or face field duty suspension for two weeks-”

 

“Mean!”

 

“—and Takashi-san, Watari-san requests your assistance in analyzing the spell resonance you've collected from Muraki's conjury.”

 

Still blushing, Takashi took the dismissal gratefully, slinking out of his seat. Watari, who was entirely too pleased with the whole situation, slung a companionable arm around his lab-mate, chattering away.

 

“—and you won't believe what Johnny-kun Two can do! Just take a picture of the one you like, and it can do stuff-”

 

“Watari, shut up!”

 

Oh yes, just another day at the Shokan. Tatsumi exchanged looks with Kurosaki, whole messages conveyed without the use of telepathy. What need for it, between two minds that think alike?

 

“I will make sure Tsuzuki hands in the revised report before close of business, Tatsumi-san,” Kurosaki murmured respectfully.

 

“Thank you, Kurosaki-kun,” he nodded in appreciation. “Well, Tsuzuki-san? Why are you still here?” A raised eyebrow to prompt the man and Tsuzuki left with his metaphorical tail between his legs. That left. . .

 

“Kyo-kun,” he sighed. “You'll spoil your teeth with all the chocolate you've been consuming.”

 

“I'm dead,” Kyo pointed out cheerfully, popping another chocolate ball. “I'll regenerate.”

 

“And do you think Takashi-san enjoys his mate's rotting teeth before regeneration?” he asked reasonably.

 

He could see the little wheels turning, gears shifting and reluctantly accepting his logic as flawless. As if it could be otherwise.

 

“Okay,” Kyo said mournfully, sliding out of his seat. “I'll go. . .drink some juice or something.”

 

“Good boy.” He waited until the door clicked shut, and a wisp of shadow flipped the lock, ensuring privacy. “The situation is not improving, is it, Kurosaki-kun?”

 

The blond shook his head slowly, gravity lending age to the youthful face. “No, it has not, Tatsumi-san,” he said softly. “I fear if we leave the status quo as it is. . .”

 

He nodded. “Very well. Thank you for your time, Kurosaki-kun.”

 

The shadows he ruled slithered out of their hiding place with the boy's departure, and they wrapped themselves around his form eagerly, twisting and twining, clamoring for his attention.

 

“Enough,” he whispered. “Our Lord commands.”

 

*********

 

Enma, God of Death, the Immortal Judge, sat silently in his Hall, enjoying the moment of peace for what it was; a fragile, temporary gift. His ageless eyes saw beyond the fathomless dark that towered above, shot through with the birth, life and death of galaxies. He saw the beginning. And he saw the end.

 

“Seiichiro, beloved child.” His smile could make stone weep with joy to be its recipient and Tatsumi nearly did; would have,if not for the deity's mercy and protection bestowed upon all Shinigami to enable them tostand strong in an Immortal's presence. “It has been too long.”

 

“My apologies, Enma-sama,” came the respectful whisper from the shadows clustered thickly behind his dais. There was, detectable to the deity's ears, a throb of longing in the low voice. But the man himself held back, duty his rigid armor.

 

Enma smiled.

 

“Beloved amongst all my beloved,” he sighed, watching the dance of stars. “What troubles you?”

 

“Kyo and Takashi. . .it grows worse. It is a slow disease corrupting their sleep, robbing them of peace.” Tatsumi hesitated, the enveloping cloak of darkness writhing agitatedly. “I fear we have no other choice but to-” The Death Seal imposed over fifteen years ago flared. Fifteen mortal years, barely a blink of an eye to an Immortal. A choked gasp. “F-forgive me, Enma-sama,” Tatsumi said raggedly.

 

“No,” he replied mournfully. “Forgive me, Seiichiro, for having to do such to you and my other children. It still pains me, to know that it was my hand that laid the Seal upon you.”

 

“A necessity, Enma-sama.”

 

A necessity, Father.

 

The deity sighed. Ah, Amaterasu. He reminds me so much of you. I miss you, Child. Do you miss your Father who longs for your light, here in the world of spirits?

 

Always, Father. Always.

 

“One last chance,” he said out loud. “One last chance before necessity. Izanami and Izanagi, my Children, would ask that boon of me.”

 

A long silence, and a thousand galaxies died, and a thousand and one galaxies were birthed.

 

“I am only mortal, my lord,” Tatsumi finally said, his words laced with true pain. “Only a man, and my judgment is flawed. But as a friend, as one of those who knows. . .I fear that one last chance may be too late.”

 

He watched. And stars danced.

 

“And I fear. . .that you are right, beloved.” The sorrow-laden sigh rang softly throughout the endless depths of the Hall of the Dead. “So be it. This is my Judgment.”

 

A figure in white, clad in layered kimono, the face unseen. It/she/he bowed, and a ribbon of light glimmered between its /hers/his hands.

 

“Matsumada Takashi and Shiozaki Kyo. On this day of my Rule, on this hour of Judgment, let the records show that I have decreed thus; their Seals to be woven new, their memories, buried within. So I have decreed.”

 

The figure bowed again and disappeared. Faintly, just at the threshold of mortal hearing, there was the thunder of hooves, shrill neighing, and the clarion call of a horn.

 

“The Hunters, my lord?” Tatsumi asked shakily.

 

“Yes,” he sighed. “To place this burden upon you, or your friends, is unfair, Seiichiro. And dangerous. Demons lie waiting in the dark, their masters anticipating. To do less, and more, would draw their attention, begin events that should not happen. Not now.”

 

“Yes, my lord,” came the swift assent. After a long, expectant silence, the sadness on the deity's face replaced with soft look of love, the Shinigami whispered, “My lord. . .Enma-sama. . .”

 

“Come.” He lifted his hand, the long, full sleeve billowing slightly in an unfelt breeze. With a smile of true joy, he welcomed the head of dark hair that stole into his lap, the mortal body curled around his knees.

 

“Beloved. How I missed you so.”

 

******

 

Delphinium: Heaven